What I Want For Christmas
Title: What I Want for Christmas
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language
Word Count: 1499
Summary: All Draco wants for Christmas is to reconcile with Hermione. All Blaise wants is booze and porn. Funny how wishes line up sometimes.
Notes: Holiday Movie Challenge, prompt #49 "Let's get pissed and watch porn" -Love Actually. I had a terrible time keeping this under the word limit and ended up cutting out all my smut. Oh, pairings include Draco/Hermione (duh) and references to Theodore/Pansy and Blaise/porn. :)
Alone in the living room, Draco sat in the spreading dark watching the city skyline through the wide glass door that opened to their tiny balcony. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Technically, it was just Hermione's balcony now. Draco had moved out earlier that day.
His let his head, aching slightly from all the firewhiskey he had drunk that afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron, fall back and hit the armchair. Closing his eyes, he prayed his friends were wrong and that he wasn't fighting a losing battle.
The Leaky had been full of the sounds of Christmas cheer, but the corner table commandeered by Draco, Blaise and Theodore had been quiet except for the clink of glasses. The three friends had been drinking steadily since moving Draco out of the flat, and his miniaturized belongings littered the table between their empties.
“Well,” Blaise had said abruptly, “happy Christmas anyway, mate.”
Draco had lifted his head from his arms and glared across the table. “It seems unlikely my Christmas will be a happy one, Zabini, fuck you very much.”
Zabini had just laughed and took another shot, but Theo patted Draco's hand. “Come home with me for Christmas, Draco. Pansy and the twins would love to have you. Oh,” he'd brightened, “Daphne Greengrass and her sister are coming, too. You remember Astoria, right?”
Draco shuddered. “No, Theo, no way.”
“Or,” Blaise poured a new round for the table from the bottle at his elbow, “you could come to my place for my festivities.”
“Which are?”
“Same thing he does the other 364 days of the year,” Theo had sniggered into his shot glass, “get pissed and watch porn.”
“Ah, but Christmas porn is special,” Blaise'd said sagely.
Draco had snorted. “How so?”
“The outfits mostly.” He'd clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Tomorrow's lineup includes Santa's Lap 2: The North Pole and How the Grinch Stole My Virginity.” He'd grinned as Theo laughed and Draco put his head on the table again. “They're all about peace on earth and goodwill toward men. And, of course, women with massive tits and unreasonably tight clothing.”
“I don't want to spend my Christmas watching you jerk off on your sofa, Blaise.” Draco's voice had been muffled by his arm. “I want to be with Hermione.” He sat up quickly enough to make the pub spin.
Theo had looked sympathetic, but Blaise's voice was cool. “Too bad, Draco, because it looks like you're through.” Draco had just slouched down into his chair. “Look,” Zabini sighed, “it's time to regroup. You had a good run. The two of you lasted longer than everyone thought you would--”
“Bullshit,” Draco interrupted, “not everyone. I, at least, thought we were forever.”
“You and Hermione Granger?” Scornful, Blaise had shaken his head. “The two of you are...”
“Too different,” Theo'd finished quietly.
“We're good together,” Draco knew his volume was attracting attention from the surrounding tables. “Better together than we are apart. When I'm with her, I'm finally happy. And I know she feels the same way.” He'd slammed his fist on the table and wobbled to his feet.
“I'm going back.” Draco had shoved the shrunken boxes and trunks into his pockets. “This was a mistake.”
“Are you sure this is a smart idea, Draco?” Theo asked as Blaise looked silently on.
“It's the only idea.” Draco had donned his cloak and turned toward the door. “Happy Christmas, you two.”
“Draco!” Theo had caught him halfway out. “You know that's Blaise's way of trying to cheer you up, right?”
“I know.” Over Theo's shoulder, Blaise had lifted his glass as if toasting them both. Draco gave him a two-fingered salute and clapped Theo on the shoulder. “I'll floo you if I need you.”
Theo had grinned. “If we're in the neighborhood later, we may stop by, just to make sure Granger hasn't hexed you into a burnt outline on the wall...and my offer of Christmas dinner still stands.”
As the last of the sun's rays slipped below the horizon, Draco heard Hermione lowering the wards outside, and he fervently hoped he wouldn't see his friends again until New Year's.
She was crying as she shuffled slowly into the dark room, dropping her bag on the table by the door and letting her cloak fall to the floor. Frozen, he watched her silhouette, his heart clenching at how she wrapped her arms around herself and stood there, as if she didn't want to come in.
“Hermione.” His voice crackled like old parchment.
She jumped and cast a silent Lumos, bringing every light in the room to life. For a moment, all they could do was look at each other. Draco could tell by her red eyes and pale skin that Hermione had been crying all day.
“You--,” she swallowed hard. “You're still here.”
Draco had to clear his throat before he could speak. “I left. I came back.” At his words, she covered her face with her hands. “I'm hoping we can talk,” he whispered.
She lowered her arms and shook her head, but when Draco held out his hand, she took it and sat on the ottoman in front of him. “We've been talking, for all the good it's done.” Hermione looked down at their clasped hands and sighed.
“I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right, Draco: Ron and Harry are more than friends to me.” He closed his eyes in denial but opened them again when she nudged his leg with her knee. “They're my brothers,” she continued. “They're part of me, and they're always going to be a part of my life. And...our friends hate each other and don't understand us. Sometimes I think they hate me for the way we feel about each other-it's lonely and it hurts.”
A lone tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. “I thought everyone would get over this animosity, that the two of us would be like a bridge bringing everyone together.” Her voice broke. “But that isn't what happened at all.”
“Fuck our friends and fuck bridges, too!” Draco put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Let's be an island instead. We don't need anyone else.”
Hermione touched his jaw. “But we do.” She cupped the back of his neck as he lowered his head to hers. Forehead-to-forehead she whispered, “No matter how much we love each other. I'm sorry. I just want a little peace at this point.”
“Even if it means giving up everything that's us? That's not like you, Hermione.” All the old frustration over the bond she shared with her oldest friends, that part of her he would never really touch, welled up inside Draco again, but he quashed it. They had to get past this, they just had to.
“I'm sorry,” she said again, sitting up. “I don't know what to do.”
“Be brave.” Draco held her head in his hands, feeling her curls twine around his fingers even as her hands gripped his wrists. “Pluck up all that Gryffindor courage and tell me the truth: do you really want me to leave? Will that give you peace?”
Hermione met his gaze steadily, thoughtfully. Her silence tore at him; if she said nothing, if she said yes, Draco believed he would turn to stone right there in the chair and stay there until--in a repeat of that morning when Blaise and Theo had found him wandering aimlessly from room to room, too upset to pack, too unwilling to leave--someone forced him bodily out of the flat.
“No.” Hermione's voice firm and her hands tightened on his arms. “I don't want you to leave.”
She dragged his mouth down even as he hauled her off the ottoman and onto his lap.
**
Sweaty, still panting, Hermione was pressing a kiss over his heart while Draco traced their initials on her naked back with his fingertip when they both heard a scraping sound from the balcony.
“Is Crookshanks out there?” Hermione twisted around enough to reach her wand, giggling as Draco groaned and clutched her hips. Hermione casually waved her wand at the lights, dimming them so they could see out onto the dark balcony. “How did he get out--” She looked through the glass and squealed in horror.
In chairs facing the living room, Blaise and Theo whistled and clapped.
Scrambling off Draco, Hermione dashed out of sight, hiding her breasts with one hand and trying to pull down the skirt bunched up to her waist with the other. “I hate your friends!” she screamed from the bathroom.
Murderous, Draco struggled to pull up his pants and find his wand while his drunken friends fell over themselves with laughter. Theo leaned weakly on Blaise's shoulder as Blaise transfigured a flowerpot into a banner that read :
It wasn't Santa's Lap 2, but I'm satisfied. Looks like we both got what we wanted for Christmas!
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language
Word Count: 1499
Summary: All Draco wants for Christmas is to reconcile with Hermione. All Blaise wants is booze and porn. Funny how wishes line up sometimes.
Notes: Holiday Movie Challenge, prompt #49 "Let's get pissed and watch porn" -Love Actually. I had a terrible time keeping this under the word limit and ended up cutting out all my smut. Oh, pairings include Draco/Hermione (duh) and references to Theodore/Pansy and Blaise/porn. :)
Alone in the living room, Draco sat in the spreading dark watching the city skyline through the wide glass door that opened to their tiny balcony. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Technically, it was just Hermione's balcony now. Draco had moved out earlier that day.
His let his head, aching slightly from all the firewhiskey he had drunk that afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron, fall back and hit the armchair. Closing his eyes, he prayed his friends were wrong and that he wasn't fighting a losing battle.
The Leaky had been full of the sounds of Christmas cheer, but the corner table commandeered by Draco, Blaise and Theodore had been quiet except for the clink of glasses. The three friends had been drinking steadily since moving Draco out of the flat, and his miniaturized belongings littered the table between their empties.
“Well,” Blaise had said abruptly, “happy Christmas anyway, mate.”
Draco had lifted his head from his arms and glared across the table. “It seems unlikely my Christmas will be a happy one, Zabini, fuck you very much.”
Zabini had just laughed and took another shot, but Theo patted Draco's hand. “Come home with me for Christmas, Draco. Pansy and the twins would love to have you. Oh,” he'd brightened, “Daphne Greengrass and her sister are coming, too. You remember Astoria, right?”
Draco shuddered. “No, Theo, no way.”
“Or,” Blaise poured a new round for the table from the bottle at his elbow, “you could come to my place for my festivities.”
“Which are?”
“Same thing he does the other 364 days of the year,” Theo had sniggered into his shot glass, “get pissed and watch porn.”
“Ah, but Christmas porn is special,” Blaise'd said sagely.
Draco had snorted. “How so?”
“The outfits mostly.” He'd clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Tomorrow's lineup includes Santa's Lap 2: The North Pole and How the Grinch Stole My Virginity.” He'd grinned as Theo laughed and Draco put his head on the table again. “They're all about peace on earth and goodwill toward men. And, of course, women with massive tits and unreasonably tight clothing.”
“I don't want to spend my Christmas watching you jerk off on your sofa, Blaise.” Draco's voice had been muffled by his arm. “I want to be with Hermione.” He sat up quickly enough to make the pub spin.
Theo had looked sympathetic, but Blaise's voice was cool. “Too bad, Draco, because it looks like you're through.” Draco had just slouched down into his chair. “Look,” Zabini sighed, “it's time to regroup. You had a good run. The two of you lasted longer than everyone thought you would--”
“Bullshit,” Draco interrupted, “not everyone. I, at least, thought we were forever.”
“You and Hermione Granger?” Scornful, Blaise had shaken his head. “The two of you are...”
“Too different,” Theo'd finished quietly.
“We're good together,” Draco knew his volume was attracting attention from the surrounding tables. “Better together than we are apart. When I'm with her, I'm finally happy. And I know she feels the same way.” He'd slammed his fist on the table and wobbled to his feet.
“I'm going back.” Draco had shoved the shrunken boxes and trunks into his pockets. “This was a mistake.”
“Are you sure this is a smart idea, Draco?” Theo asked as Blaise looked silently on.
“It's the only idea.” Draco had donned his cloak and turned toward the door. “Happy Christmas, you two.”
“Draco!” Theo had caught him halfway out. “You know that's Blaise's way of trying to cheer you up, right?”
“I know.” Over Theo's shoulder, Blaise had lifted his glass as if toasting them both. Draco gave him a two-fingered salute and clapped Theo on the shoulder. “I'll floo you if I need you.”
Theo had grinned. “If we're in the neighborhood later, we may stop by, just to make sure Granger hasn't hexed you into a burnt outline on the wall...and my offer of Christmas dinner still stands.”
As the last of the sun's rays slipped below the horizon, Draco heard Hermione lowering the wards outside, and he fervently hoped he wouldn't see his friends again until New Year's.
She was crying as she shuffled slowly into the dark room, dropping her bag on the table by the door and letting her cloak fall to the floor. Frozen, he watched her silhouette, his heart clenching at how she wrapped her arms around herself and stood there, as if she didn't want to come in.
“Hermione.” His voice crackled like old parchment.
She jumped and cast a silent Lumos, bringing every light in the room to life. For a moment, all they could do was look at each other. Draco could tell by her red eyes and pale skin that Hermione had been crying all day.
“You--,” she swallowed hard. “You're still here.”
Draco had to clear his throat before he could speak. “I left. I came back.” At his words, she covered her face with her hands. “I'm hoping we can talk,” he whispered.
She lowered her arms and shook her head, but when Draco held out his hand, she took it and sat on the ottoman in front of him. “We've been talking, for all the good it's done.” Hermione looked down at their clasped hands and sighed.
“I've been thinking about what you said, and you're right, Draco: Ron and Harry are more than friends to me.” He closed his eyes in denial but opened them again when she nudged his leg with her knee. “They're my brothers,” she continued. “They're part of me, and they're always going to be a part of my life. And...our friends hate each other and don't understand us. Sometimes I think they hate me for the way we feel about each other-it's lonely and it hurts.”
A lone tear slipped down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. “I thought everyone would get over this animosity, that the two of us would be like a bridge bringing everyone together.” Her voice broke. “But that isn't what happened at all.”
“Fuck our friends and fuck bridges, too!” Draco put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Let's be an island instead. We don't need anyone else.”
Hermione touched his jaw. “But we do.” She cupped the back of his neck as he lowered his head to hers. Forehead-to-forehead she whispered, “No matter how much we love each other. I'm sorry. I just want a little peace at this point.”
“Even if it means giving up everything that's us? That's not like you, Hermione.” All the old frustration over the bond she shared with her oldest friends, that part of her he would never really touch, welled up inside Draco again, but he quashed it. They had to get past this, they just had to.
“I'm sorry,” she said again, sitting up. “I don't know what to do.”
“Be brave.” Draco held her head in his hands, feeling her curls twine around his fingers even as her hands gripped his wrists. “Pluck up all that Gryffindor courage and tell me the truth: do you really want me to leave? Will that give you peace?”
Hermione met his gaze steadily, thoughtfully. Her silence tore at him; if she said nothing, if she said yes, Draco believed he would turn to stone right there in the chair and stay there until--in a repeat of that morning when Blaise and Theo had found him wandering aimlessly from room to room, too upset to pack, too unwilling to leave--someone forced him bodily out of the flat.
“No.” Hermione's voice firm and her hands tightened on his arms. “I don't want you to leave.”
She dragged his mouth down even as he hauled her off the ottoman and onto his lap.
**
Sweaty, still panting, Hermione was pressing a kiss over his heart while Draco traced their initials on her naked back with his fingertip when they both heard a scraping sound from the balcony.
“Is Crookshanks out there?” Hermione twisted around enough to reach her wand, giggling as Draco groaned and clutched her hips. Hermione casually waved her wand at the lights, dimming them so they could see out onto the dark balcony. “How did he get out--” She looked through the glass and squealed in horror.
In chairs facing the living room, Blaise and Theo whistled and clapped.
Scrambling off Draco, Hermione dashed out of sight, hiding her breasts with one hand and trying to pull down the skirt bunched up to her waist with the other. “I hate your friends!” she screamed from the bathroom.
Murderous, Draco struggled to pull up his pants and find his wand while his drunken friends fell over themselves with laughter. Theo leaned weakly on Blaise's shoulder as Blaise transfigured a flowerpot into a banner that read :
It wasn't Santa's Lap 2, but I'm satisfied. Looks like we both got what we wanted for Christmas!