Fallen (part 1 of 3, H/D)
Title: Fallen (Part 1 of 23)
Author: sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1300
Summary: Draco acts impulsively, but as the feelings he's managed to suppress for so long begin to surface, he's left wondering why he would do such a foolish thing.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
A Gazillion Challenges: awdt's prompts: We used to be friends; Play some games; Most people I know think that I'm crazy; Did you have to use all the hot water? All publicity is good publicity; If that's not your fantasy, what is? I don't have any bad points; Every day I love you less and less; Wait a minute; why have you got that? The risk of serious injury.
slythindor100's prompts: #110 - Away from home; #108 - Choice of pictures - see below; #106 - Choice of quotes - I selected "Did you ever fall for someone you know you shouldn't? Try hard to fight your feelings, but you just couldn't?" and #104 - Home.
harrylovesdraco's Challenge #5 - Why would you ask me that?
enchanted_jae's July #41 - A strange place; April #38 - Prank or Joke.
Fallen
Draco entered the pub, looking for an excuse to be away from the solitude he called home, to find Potter perched at the bar. A strange place to see him mid-week, Draco thought.
As he approached, Draco could see Potter wavering in his seat, obviously having consumed a few drinks already. Curiosity winning the war over Draco's desire to stay away from Potter - it wasn't easy being around him, ever since Draco had come to the realisation that he had a bit of a crush on the man - he pulled up a stool next to Potter and ordered himself a drink.
"So, what brings you here tonight?" Draco asked.
"Why would you ask me that?" Potter replied, without looking up from his glass.
"Making conversation?" Draco suggested. "I figured you'd be home with the weaselette."
Potter shrugged, then picked up his drink. He swallowed half of it in one go, swayed a bit, then put the glass down heavily. "We split up," he said.
Well. Wasn't this an interesting turn of events? "I know you probably don't want to hear this," Draco offered, "but I'm surprised it took you so long."
Potter glared at him. "We used to be friends," he said. Draco frowned, so Potter elaborated. "Ginny and I."
"That doesn't mean you were meant to be more," Draco explained. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Potter scowled. "She always seemed to me to be caught up in hero worship. Frankly, thick though you may be, I was still surprised you fell for it when she played those games in sixth year." Potter scowled even more. "You know - to make you jealous. Next thing you know, there you were, her lap dog."
"You're crazy," Potter said before finishing his drink and ordering another.
"Most people I know think that I'm crazy," Draco replied. "It doesn't make what I say any less true."
"Did you have to use all the hot water?" Potter mumbled into his drink.
"What?" And Potter thought he was crazy?
"That's how it started. Like she couldn't cast a spell to heat up the water for the shower." Draco shot him a confused look. "We live in a Muggle neighbourhood," Potter explained. "Sometimes we run out of hot water, and the water heater needs time to recover. That's how the argument started. Stupid, yeah?"
"Yes." Obviously.
"Then she complained about the publicity I've been getting lately."
"All publicity is good publicity," Draco interjected.
"Well, not exactly," Potter argued. "But in this case, she was just angry because I got more than she did. As if I want the press reporting on my every move."
Draco snorted. "If that's not your fantasy, then what is?" He nearly choked on his own words, as one of his own fantasies came to mind.
"Very funny, Malfoy." Potter's next drink arrived and he took a gulp before continuing. "I hate all the attention. Always have."
Draco remembered back to the articles immediately following the war, praising the hero, telling everyone how wonderful and perfect Potter was. They'd lessened lately, but his adoring fans were still eager to lap up the latest news. "Sure you do."
Potter rolled his eyes. "I didn't see you celebrating when the Prophet kept reporting on your bad points."
"I don't have any bad points, Potter." The git had the audacity to laugh. "I merely made some questionable decisions." Which I will no doubt pay for, until the day I die.
"I suppose that's true," Potter conceded.
Draco nodded. "Potter, much as I think you could do better - and if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it - I don't think any of this is earth-shattering."
"No, but what she said before I left pretty much sealed the deal." He picked up his fresh drink and took a swig. Draco watched, fascinated that the man hadn't yet fallen off his stool.
"And what might that have been?" he asked, expecting something equally mundane.
Potter placed his drink on the bar and turned to face Draco. Leaning in, their faces so close that Draco could taste the firewhiskey on Potter's breath, Potter grinned. "Every day, Harry, I love you less and less," he said.
Draco blinked and looked into Potter's eyes for something, anything that might hint that his words were a lie, some sort of joke. All he saw was pain. Somewhere deep inside, Draco saw red. He had never liked Ron's sister, and how smug she was after playing Potter and getting his attention. But this was something else entirely. Draco closed his eyes and pictured the weaselette writhing in pain under a Crucio.
He opened his eyes to see Potter reaching for his drink. Draco made it there first.
"Wait a minute," Potter said. "That's my drink. Why have you got that?"
"C'mon, Potter, I'm taking you home." He tossed some Galleons onto the bar to cover their drinks.
Potter shook his head and nearly fell off the stool. Draco steadied him. "Don't have a home to go to," Potter grumbled.
"You're coming home with me," Draco said. Why on earth he was doing this, Draco didn't know, but he certainly wasn't leaving Potter to his own devices - not in this condition. Not without leaving him at risk of serious injury. He wouldn't be accused of letting the great Harry Potter get hurt. That was the only logical reason for his actions. It had nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to get Potter in his own bed.
Draco Apparated them back to his flat, and deposited Potter on the sofa.
"Bed?" Potter asked.
"I'm afraid this will have to do," Draco explained. "This is a one bedroom flat."
Potter tried to stand up, swayed, then fell back down. Frowning, he looked up at Draco, his eyes straining to focus. "Loo?"
"Come on," Draco said, pulling Potter upright, and leading him to the bathroom. "Here you go." He sat Potter on the toilet while he retrieved some sobering potion. "I never take a full dose of this, because the headache is worse than a hangover, but a small swig should stop the ground from moving so much. At least enough to let you do your business. Besides, you wouldn't want all that perfectly good alcohol to go to waste." Potter nodded. "Open up."
Potter leaned back, opened his mouth, and Draco poured in a bit of the potion. "All right, then?" Draco asked after a minute.
"I think so," Potter replied. He wavered a bit as he stood up, but managed not to fall.
"Right. I'll leave you to it."
Draco poured himself a drink, hoping to calm his nerves. As he sat in his front room, he tried breathing slowly to calm his nerves, but it was no use. He took a sip and relished the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. Holding the glass in one hand and resting his head in the other, he let out a rueful chuckle at his predicament.
A distant conversation with Pansy came to mind. At the time, he'd been trying to console her over the latest loser she'd fallen for. A few too many drinks and she'd poured out her soul.
"Did you ever fall for someone you know you shouldn't? Try hard to fight your feelings, but you just couldn't?"
Watching her choke back tears, Draco had thought her mad at the time, sure that it was simply a matter of getting over your feelings, shoving them aside, or pushing them deep down. I mean, what kind of Slytherin was she anyway?
Now, as he listened to the water running in the other room, and tried to ignore the lurching in his stomach, he didn't think she was so mad after all.
Part 2.
Author: sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1300
Summary: Draco acts impulsively, but as the feelings he's managed to suppress for so long begin to surface, he's left wondering why he would do such a foolish thing.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
A Gazillion Challenges: awdt's prompts: We used to be friends; Play some games; Most people I know think that I'm crazy; Did you have to use all the hot water? All publicity is good publicity; If that's not your fantasy, what is? I don't have any bad points; Every day I love you less and less; Wait a minute; why have you got that? The risk of serious injury.
slythindor100's prompts: #110 - Away from home; #108 - Choice of pictures - see below; #106 - Choice of quotes - I selected "Did you ever fall for someone you know you shouldn't? Try hard to fight your feelings, but you just couldn't?" and #104 - Home.
harrylovesdraco's Challenge #5 - Why would you ask me that?
enchanted_jae's July #41 - A strange place; April #38 - Prank or Joke.
Fallen
Draco entered the pub, looking for an excuse to be away from the solitude he called home, to find Potter perched at the bar. A strange place to see him mid-week, Draco thought.
As he approached, Draco could see Potter wavering in his seat, obviously having consumed a few drinks already. Curiosity winning the war over Draco's desire to stay away from Potter - it wasn't easy being around him, ever since Draco had come to the realisation that he had a bit of a crush on the man - he pulled up a stool next to Potter and ordered himself a drink.
"So, what brings you here tonight?" Draco asked.
"Why would you ask me that?" Potter replied, without looking up from his glass.
"Making conversation?" Draco suggested. "I figured you'd be home with the weaselette."
Potter shrugged, then picked up his drink. He swallowed half of it in one go, swayed a bit, then put the glass down heavily. "We split up," he said.
Well. Wasn't this an interesting turn of events? "I know you probably don't want to hear this," Draco offered, "but I'm surprised it took you so long."
Potter glared at him. "We used to be friends," he said. Draco frowned, so Potter elaborated. "Ginny and I."
"That doesn't mean you were meant to be more," Draco explained. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Potter scowled. "She always seemed to me to be caught up in hero worship. Frankly, thick though you may be, I was still surprised you fell for it when she played those games in sixth year." Potter scowled even more. "You know - to make you jealous. Next thing you know, there you were, her lap dog."
"You're crazy," Potter said before finishing his drink and ordering another.
"Most people I know think that I'm crazy," Draco replied. "It doesn't make what I say any less true."
"Did you have to use all the hot water?" Potter mumbled into his drink.
"What?" And Potter thought he was crazy?
"That's how it started. Like she couldn't cast a spell to heat up the water for the shower." Draco shot him a confused look. "We live in a Muggle neighbourhood," Potter explained. "Sometimes we run out of hot water, and the water heater needs time to recover. That's how the argument started. Stupid, yeah?"
"Yes." Obviously.
"Then she complained about the publicity I've been getting lately."
"All publicity is good publicity," Draco interjected.
"Well, not exactly," Potter argued. "But in this case, she was just angry because I got more than she did. As if I want the press reporting on my every move."
Draco snorted. "If that's not your fantasy, then what is?" He nearly choked on his own words, as one of his own fantasies came to mind.
"Very funny, Malfoy." Potter's next drink arrived and he took a gulp before continuing. "I hate all the attention. Always have."
Draco remembered back to the articles immediately following the war, praising the hero, telling everyone how wonderful and perfect Potter was. They'd lessened lately, but his adoring fans were still eager to lap up the latest news. "Sure you do."
Potter rolled his eyes. "I didn't see you celebrating when the Prophet kept reporting on your bad points."
"I don't have any bad points, Potter." The git had the audacity to laugh. "I merely made some questionable decisions." Which I will no doubt pay for, until the day I die.
"I suppose that's true," Potter conceded.
Draco nodded. "Potter, much as I think you could do better - and if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it - I don't think any of this is earth-shattering."
"No, but what she said before I left pretty much sealed the deal." He picked up his fresh drink and took a swig. Draco watched, fascinated that the man hadn't yet fallen off his stool.
"And what might that have been?" he asked, expecting something equally mundane.
Potter placed his drink on the bar and turned to face Draco. Leaning in, their faces so close that Draco could taste the firewhiskey on Potter's breath, Potter grinned. "Every day, Harry, I love you less and less," he said.
Draco blinked and looked into Potter's eyes for something, anything that might hint that his words were a lie, some sort of joke. All he saw was pain. Somewhere deep inside, Draco saw red. He had never liked Ron's sister, and how smug she was after playing Potter and getting his attention. But this was something else entirely. Draco closed his eyes and pictured the weaselette writhing in pain under a Crucio.
He opened his eyes to see Potter reaching for his drink. Draco made it there first.
"Wait a minute," Potter said. "That's my drink. Why have you got that?"
"C'mon, Potter, I'm taking you home." He tossed some Galleons onto the bar to cover their drinks.
Potter shook his head and nearly fell off the stool. Draco steadied him. "Don't have a home to go to," Potter grumbled.
"You're coming home with me," Draco said. Why on earth he was doing this, Draco didn't know, but he certainly wasn't leaving Potter to his own devices - not in this condition. Not without leaving him at risk of serious injury. He wouldn't be accused of letting the great Harry Potter get hurt. That was the only logical reason for his actions. It had nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to get Potter in his own bed.
Draco Apparated them back to his flat, and deposited Potter on the sofa.
"Bed?" Potter asked.
"I'm afraid this will have to do," Draco explained. "This is a one bedroom flat."
Potter tried to stand up, swayed, then fell back down. Frowning, he looked up at Draco, his eyes straining to focus. "Loo?"
"Come on," Draco said, pulling Potter upright, and leading him to the bathroom. "Here you go." He sat Potter on the toilet while he retrieved some sobering potion. "I never take a full dose of this, because the headache is worse than a hangover, but a small swig should stop the ground from moving so much. At least enough to let you do your business. Besides, you wouldn't want all that perfectly good alcohol to go to waste." Potter nodded. "Open up."
Potter leaned back, opened his mouth, and Draco poured in a bit of the potion. "All right, then?" Draco asked after a minute.
"I think so," Potter replied. He wavered a bit as he stood up, but managed not to fall.
"Right. I'll leave you to it."
Draco poured himself a drink, hoping to calm his nerves. As he sat in his front room, he tried breathing slowly to calm his nerves, but it was no use. He took a sip and relished the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. Holding the glass in one hand and resting his head in the other, he let out a rueful chuckle at his predicament.
A distant conversation with Pansy came to mind. At the time, he'd been trying to console her over the latest loser she'd fallen for. A few too many drinks and she'd poured out her soul.
"Did you ever fall for someone you know you shouldn't? Try hard to fight your feelings, but you just couldn't?"
Watching her choke back tears, Draco had thought her mad at the time, sure that it was simply a matter of getting over your feelings, shoving them aside, or pushing them deep down. I mean, what kind of Slytherin was she anyway?
Now, as he listened to the water running in the other room, and tried to ignore the lurching in his stomach, he didn't think she was so mad after all.
Part 2.