Fallen (part 2 of 3, H/D)
Title: Fallen (Part 2 of 23)
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 1250
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: My ice cream is melting; The quality leaves something to be desired.
slythindor100's prompts: #101 - Choice of pictures - I chose this one; #103 - Choice of pictures - I chose this one; #105 - Choice of pictures - I chose this one; #107 - Draco's reaction to turning 29.
harrylovesdraco's Challenge #6 - Draco's birthday and green; challenge #8 - The dog days of summer.
enchanted_jae's May #39 - Dream.
Click here to start at the beginning.
Fallen - Part 2
Draco awoke, covered with sweat. It was still dark in his room. He reached for his wand and listened for any noise. Nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he flung the covers off and climbed out of bed.
He stood by the window, taking in the view of the lights reflecting off the Thames. He loved the city, especially at night, and he had a spectacular view - one of the main reasons he'd taken this place. He was glad he'd moved here from Wiltshire after the war. Too many memories. He glanced over at the clock on the night table. Three fifteen. He frowned, knowing he had to go to work in five hours. What had he been dreaming about?
He shivered as the vague image of a man came to mind, gradually becoming clearer. Potter, dressed in a white tuxedo, green eyes reflecting the light as he leaned against the wall, looking better than he had any right to. Draco remembered that night like it was yesterday.
***
Pansy coerced him into attending a Ministry fundraiser. "Draco, I've had quite enough of your brooding."
"I am not brooding," he retorted. "I am reflecting."
"Draco, darling, you are turning twenty-nine, not ninety-nine."
"Still, it never hurts to take stock of one's life every now and again."
"You're a wizard," she insisted. "You'll live to, what? A hundred and fifty maybe? Enough brooding; we're going out."
She was right. He had needed a distraction. He hadn't told her that he'd been feeling out of sorts; he'd simply let her believe it was his vanity troubling him. In reality, he'd been wondering if he'd ever find someone special. Most people still carried the war around with them, and the name Malfoy didn't win him any favours.
The wizarding gay community was small, and the few men he'd dated more than a couple of times, it had become clear quickly, were only after his money. The Malfoy name might not mean much, but his money was as good as anyone else's. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was attractive, and he could pick up blokes easily. But sometime in the past couple of years, he'd realised that wasn't enough for him.
The night out was good for both of them. They danced and mingled, and for the first time in a long time, Draco didn't feel the tremendous burden of being a Malfoy weighing heavily on his shoulders. He suspected it had something to do with Pansy's charm, and her ability to steer him away from anyone that might have been rude. Of course, there was also the fact that, being a charity event, people were more inclined to be … well, charitable.
Then, near the end of the night, Pansy excused herself to use the ladies' room, leaving Draco at the bar. Draco turned round to see none other than Potter, leaning up against the wall, a hint of a smile on his face, looking at Draco.
"You're not so bad," Potter had said.
"Are you drunk?" Draco asked.
Potter had chuckled at that remark. "A little, perhaps."
"Ah, that explains it."
Potter straightened up and walked over to where Draco was standing. "Not really. I've been watching you all night."
Draco's stomach did a strange flip at those words. "Checking to make sure I'm not up to something nefarious?"
Potter chuckled again. "Hardly. I haven't thought of you that way for a long time."
"Yeah, right," Draco replied, turning back to his drink. Potter was taking the piss, and Draco didn't want to ruin what had, up until then, been a good evening.
Potter's hand on Draco's arm caused his back to stiffen. "I mean it, Malfoy. You're not so bad."
Draco looked at Potter, and decided he wasn't joking. "Took you long enough to figure out," he grumbled.
"I told you I haven't thought of you that way in a long time."
In a moment of recklessness, Draco smirked and asked, "Oh, really? Then how exactly have you thought of me?"
He saw a hint of something in Potter's eyes. Playfulness, maybe? But then the moment was gone.
"Oh, there you are, Harry." The weaselette's voice grated on Draco's nerves, as she wrapped her arm possessively around Potter's. "I've been looking all over for you." Honestly, what Potter saw in the simpering bint, Draco would never know.
"I've been talking to Malfoy, here."
She gave Draco a derisive look, then plastered her smile back on for Potter. "Well, I've found you now, and I'd like to dance."
Potter shrugged and gave Draco a defeated sort of look. Draco lifted his drink. "Potter."
By the time Pansy returned, Draco was ready to go. His mind was reeling, he clearly hadn't had a good shag in a long time, and he needed to get out of there.
***
The next time Draco saw Potter was a couple of months later. He and Blaise had gone to Diagon Alley for lunch.
"My ice cream is melting, Uncle Harry," a redheaded child whined as Draco and Blaise passed the ice cream parlour. Potter was tending to the urchin with a grin, as though having the time of his life.
"Well, you'll just have to talk less and eat more, won't you?" Potter said as he wiped the boy's hands. "Ice cream melts quickly in the dog days of summer."
"Honestly," Blaise mocked. "He's a wizard for Merlin's sake. The quality of his Cooling Charm - if he even bothered with one - leaves something to be desired."
As irritation at his friend's jibe hit him, Draco knew he was in trouble. He was about to defend Potter, of all things. Catching himself before he said something stupid, he shrugged noncommittally at Blaise.
When Potter looked up, he caught Draco's eye and smiled at him. Draco nodded and carried on.
***
Now that Draco had Potter in his flat, those memories came flooding back. No wonder he couldn't sleep.
He thought back to the previous night, when Potter had leaned in to tell him what the weaselette had said. Draco had very nearly closed the distance between them and kissed Potter. But the pain in Potter's eyes had stopped Draco. He was hurting, and the last thing Draco wanted was to make things worse.
What was happening to him? Draco would never have let a moment like that pass him by before. In fact, he most certainly would have capitalised on such an opportunity. Fuck, he was losing it.
Suddenly he was feeling rather parched. He headed for the kitchen to get a bottle of Perrier from his fridge, and stopped dead in his tracks. Fucking hell.
There Potter lay, curled up on his bed - sofa, Draco corrected himself, recalling how he had transfigured it into a bed for Potter a few hours ago - arm out to the side, as though reaching for a body beside him. Draco's mouth watered, and he swallowed roughly. He stood there watching Potter for what seemed like hours. Merlin, he was hard just watching the man sleep. This was a bad idea. Very bad. What had possessed him to invite Potter here?
More importantly, a voice in the back of his mind asked, why haven't you climbed in next to him?
~TBC
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 1250
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: My ice cream is melting; The quality leaves something to be desired.
slythindor100's prompts: #101 - Choice of pictures - I chose this one; #103 - Choice of pictures - I chose this one; #105 - Choice of pictures - I chose this one; #107 - Draco's reaction to turning 29.
harrylovesdraco's Challenge #6 - Draco's birthday and green; challenge #8 - The dog days of summer.
enchanted_jae's May #39 - Dream.
Click here to start at the beginning.
Fallen - Part 2
Draco awoke, covered with sweat. It was still dark in his room. He reached for his wand and listened for any noise. Nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, he flung the covers off and climbed out of bed.
He stood by the window, taking in the view of the lights reflecting off the Thames. He loved the city, especially at night, and he had a spectacular view - one of the main reasons he'd taken this place. He was glad he'd moved here from Wiltshire after the war. Too many memories. He glanced over at the clock on the night table. Three fifteen. He frowned, knowing he had to go to work in five hours. What had he been dreaming about?
He shivered as the vague image of a man came to mind, gradually becoming clearer. Potter, dressed in a white tuxedo, green eyes reflecting the light as he leaned against the wall, looking better than he had any right to. Draco remembered that night like it was yesterday.
***
Pansy coerced him into attending a Ministry fundraiser. "Draco, I've had quite enough of your brooding."
"I am not brooding," he retorted. "I am reflecting."
"Draco, darling, you are turning twenty-nine, not ninety-nine."
"Still, it never hurts to take stock of one's life every now and again."
"You're a wizard," she insisted. "You'll live to, what? A hundred and fifty maybe? Enough brooding; we're going out."
She was right. He had needed a distraction. He hadn't told her that he'd been feeling out of sorts; he'd simply let her believe it was his vanity troubling him. In reality, he'd been wondering if he'd ever find someone special. Most people still carried the war around with them, and the name Malfoy didn't win him any favours.
The wizarding gay community was small, and the few men he'd dated more than a couple of times, it had become clear quickly, were only after his money. The Malfoy name might not mean much, but his money was as good as anyone else's. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was attractive, and he could pick up blokes easily. But sometime in the past couple of years, he'd realised that wasn't enough for him.
The night out was good for both of them. They danced and mingled, and for the first time in a long time, Draco didn't feel the tremendous burden of being a Malfoy weighing heavily on his shoulders. He suspected it had something to do with Pansy's charm, and her ability to steer him away from anyone that might have been rude. Of course, there was also the fact that, being a charity event, people were more inclined to be … well, charitable.
Then, near the end of the night, Pansy excused herself to use the ladies' room, leaving Draco at the bar. Draco turned round to see none other than Potter, leaning up against the wall, a hint of a smile on his face, looking at Draco.
"You're not so bad," Potter had said.
"Are you drunk?" Draco asked.
Potter had chuckled at that remark. "A little, perhaps."
"Ah, that explains it."
Potter straightened up and walked over to where Draco was standing. "Not really. I've been watching you all night."
Draco's stomach did a strange flip at those words. "Checking to make sure I'm not up to something nefarious?"
Potter chuckled again. "Hardly. I haven't thought of you that way for a long time."
"Yeah, right," Draco replied, turning back to his drink. Potter was taking the piss, and Draco didn't want to ruin what had, up until then, been a good evening.
Potter's hand on Draco's arm caused his back to stiffen. "I mean it, Malfoy. You're not so bad."
Draco looked at Potter, and decided he wasn't joking. "Took you long enough to figure out," he grumbled.
"I told you I haven't thought of you that way in a long time."
In a moment of recklessness, Draco smirked and asked, "Oh, really? Then how exactly have you thought of me?"
He saw a hint of something in Potter's eyes. Playfulness, maybe? But then the moment was gone.
"Oh, there you are, Harry." The weaselette's voice grated on Draco's nerves, as she wrapped her arm possessively around Potter's. "I've been looking all over for you." Honestly, what Potter saw in the simpering bint, Draco would never know.
"I've been talking to Malfoy, here."
She gave Draco a derisive look, then plastered her smile back on for Potter. "Well, I've found you now, and I'd like to dance."
Potter shrugged and gave Draco a defeated sort of look. Draco lifted his drink. "Potter."
By the time Pansy returned, Draco was ready to go. His mind was reeling, he clearly hadn't had a good shag in a long time, and he needed to get out of there.
***
The next time Draco saw Potter was a couple of months later. He and Blaise had gone to Diagon Alley for lunch.
"My ice cream is melting, Uncle Harry," a redheaded child whined as Draco and Blaise passed the ice cream parlour. Potter was tending to the urchin with a grin, as though having the time of his life.
"Well, you'll just have to talk less and eat more, won't you?" Potter said as he wiped the boy's hands. "Ice cream melts quickly in the dog days of summer."
"Honestly," Blaise mocked. "He's a wizard for Merlin's sake. The quality of his Cooling Charm - if he even bothered with one - leaves something to be desired."
As irritation at his friend's jibe hit him, Draco knew he was in trouble. He was about to defend Potter, of all things. Catching himself before he said something stupid, he shrugged noncommittally at Blaise.
When Potter looked up, he caught Draco's eye and smiled at him. Draco nodded and carried on.
***
Now that Draco had Potter in his flat, those memories came flooding back. No wonder he couldn't sleep.
He thought back to the previous night, when Potter had leaned in to tell him what the weaselette had said. Draco had very nearly closed the distance between them and kissed Potter. But the pain in Potter's eyes had stopped Draco. He was hurting, and the last thing Draco wanted was to make things worse.
What was happening to him? Draco would never have let a moment like that pass him by before. In fact, he most certainly would have capitalised on such an opportunity. Fuck, he was losing it.
Suddenly he was feeling rather parched. He headed for the kitchen to get a bottle of Perrier from his fridge, and stopped dead in his tracks. Fucking hell.
There Potter lay, curled up on his bed - sofa, Draco corrected himself, recalling how he had transfigured it into a bed for Potter a few hours ago - arm out to the side, as though reaching for a body beside him. Draco's mouth watered, and he swallowed roughly. He stood there watching Potter for what seemed like hours. Merlin, he was hard just watching the man sleep. This was a bad idea. Very bad. What had possessed him to invite Potter here?
More importantly, a voice in the back of his mind asked, why haven't you climbed in next to him?
~TBC