The Break
Yay! First post.
Title: The Break
Author: blackestfaery
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,201
Notes/Warning: Written for the Road Not Taken prompt. Set some time in Sixth Year and has implied "substance" abuse. Not beta-ed, so any mistakes are my own.
He probably should have been more concerned with keeping his grades up, because judging from the paranoid waves rolling off Potter, Draco Malfoy wasn’t doing a very good job at pretending that it was just another year at Hogwarts.
But it’s not just another year, he thought, wincing slightly. It’s different. Everything is different.
He hated to admit any sort of likeness to the orphan hero, but in a way, he was chosen as well. Chosen to carry out an impossible task for the parents that he loved. For pride.
And for a life he knew had been given the short straw.
The cries and stomps of students in the far away Quidditch stands were mercifully shut out in the Room of Requirement, but he didn't need to hear the low buzz of a frantically flapping Snitch to know exactly what he was missing. No, not at all. In fact, he caught the Snitch and heard layers of voices calling his name nearly every day.
I suppose you’ll want me to congratulate you?
… Among other things.
Draco rubbed tiredly at his eyes and shrugged to lessen the knot that stretched across his shoulders like an albatross. In the quiet of the room and in his own head, he allowed himself to briefly consider an option that, if discovered by the Dark Lord, would put an immediate end to all his efforts.
What would Dumbledore do?
The guilt and disgust at the thought was quick in coming, and he turned away from the cabinet. Draco wandered in the vast confines of his workspace, looking at everything but touching nothing. Muted and sometimes cobwebbed stacks of forgotten treasures left by his predecessors were ignored in favour of one special spot. Deep into the room and a final turn around a bookshelf that housed dolls with missing parts found Draco in a small, sunlit alcove. The glass was entirely frosted so he had no idea of the view beyond, but it was secluded and sported a wide cushion on which he sunk to, back braced against the wall.
He allowed himself a moment to stare sullenly ahead. Duty and fear tugged at him to return to the task at hand, but he was so tired. Sick and tired, in a very literal sense of the phrase.
A break, he bartered silently with the inhuman thing that held his family’s lives in his hand. Just a small break.
Draco waited a minute more for an answer that he nervously expected would come. When it didn’t, he sighed and fished out a small packet from his trouser pocket. He turned the folded paper over in his hands, tracing the plain DC imprinted on the corner carefully. It was his last one until he could get more from his contact, so he wanted to make it as good as possible. He thought of a sunny day at the Quidditch field, his silver and green uniform warm on his back, the Snitch wriggling in his hand, and … and …
He tapped the paper with his wand and mumbled a name along with the short spell that would activate the charm. He closed his eyes as the room melted from view.
When next he opened them, he was where he wanted to be: on a broom with the wind in his hair, the Snitch in his gloved hand, and Granger staring up at him from many feet below.
It had been hard to reconcile the idea that Hermione Granger would fit into this particular fantasy but there she was. And it being his sixth time seeing her here, he figured she wasn’t going to go away. He dropped closer to her and opened his palm as he neared.
“See? I got it.”
“You did. I suppose you’ll want me to congratulate you?” Granger let out a laugh that he somehow knew was dead-on before she shook her head. “I still don’t get the fascination with it, though.”
“What? Quidditch?”
“Yes, that too. But what I meant was flying.” She turned from where she stood at the front of the Quidditch stands and took several stairs up. A few shuffled steps inward and she stood in the middle of the row, his only witness to the spectacular catch he just made. Granger tapped a small foot, the dull knocking reaching to where Draco still floated. “It’s amazing that we can defy gravity so easily here, but I’d rather keep both my feet on the ground, thanks.”
She was further away from him; that was quickly remedied. Draco was almost level with her now, and she only had to tilt her chin up a few inches to keep eye contact. He looked back and forth between her eyes for a few silent moments before pressing his tongue behind his teeth.
“Oh, come on, Granger. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”
“You’re mental,” she declared, but the slow burn up from her collar was answer enough. “I just like being in control of things. You cannot control weather or a vindictive Hippogriff when you’re up there, all not strapped in and dangling.” Granger looked green at the thought; it made for an interesting combination with her blush.
“I’m touched by your concern, but that’s part of why flying is fun-you do know what fun is, right?” He moved his broom back, laughing, when she took a swipe at him; her lips were fighting back a grin. When he returned, he kept going forward until his feet touched the stands and Granger began stepping back. She didn’t get far with his arm wrapped around her.
“It’s all about giving in to a little of the unknown.” He whispered to the top of her head. Granger had suddenly become quite interested in his collarbone. With some encouragement from him, she tipped her head back.
“And that’s it?” she asked, eyes falling to half-mast.
Draco’s nose nudged hers. “That’s it.”
The nice thing about the Daydream Charm was that it was designed to be virtually undetectable, so coming out of the daydream was as simple as when he slipped into it. Draco had a brief impression of soft lips parting beneath his before he found himself opening his eyes to the walls of the Room of Requirement. Somewhere else in the room a chorus of out-of-tune chimes sounded the hour.
It was time to go back.
It was hard to let go of the sense of happiness the charm had left him with, and Draco fought to keep the feeling for as long as he could. When he couldn’t deny the urgency creeping back into his bones, he took one more look around before crumpling the used charm in his hand and standing.
He reminded himself that silly daydreams and even sillier ideas of speaking to The Other Side were simply not of any real help. The only purpose they served was to keep him from completely losing it under the pressure. Nothing more, nothing less. They changed nothing in his plans.
And yet, despite himself, Draco couldn’t let go of the wadded up charm. He looked around one more time before pocketing the paper and moving back through the room.
Title: The Break
Author: blackestfaery
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,201
Notes/Warning: Written for the Road Not Taken prompt. Set some time in Sixth Year and has implied "substance" abuse. Not beta-ed, so any mistakes are my own.
He probably should have been more concerned with keeping his grades up, because judging from the paranoid waves rolling off Potter, Draco Malfoy wasn’t doing a very good job at pretending that it was just another year at Hogwarts.
But it’s not just another year, he thought, wincing slightly. It’s different. Everything is different.
He hated to admit any sort of likeness to the orphan hero, but in a way, he was chosen as well. Chosen to carry out an impossible task for the parents that he loved. For pride.
And for a life he knew had been given the short straw.
The cries and stomps of students in the far away Quidditch stands were mercifully shut out in the Room of Requirement, but he didn't need to hear the low buzz of a frantically flapping Snitch to know exactly what he was missing. No, not at all. In fact, he caught the Snitch and heard layers of voices calling his name nearly every day.
I suppose you’ll want me to congratulate you?
… Among other things.
Draco rubbed tiredly at his eyes and shrugged to lessen the knot that stretched across his shoulders like an albatross. In the quiet of the room and in his own head, he allowed himself to briefly consider an option that, if discovered by the Dark Lord, would put an immediate end to all his efforts.
What would Dumbledore do?
The guilt and disgust at the thought was quick in coming, and he turned away from the cabinet. Draco wandered in the vast confines of his workspace, looking at everything but touching nothing. Muted and sometimes cobwebbed stacks of forgotten treasures left by his predecessors were ignored in favour of one special spot. Deep into the room and a final turn around a bookshelf that housed dolls with missing parts found Draco in a small, sunlit alcove. The glass was entirely frosted so he had no idea of the view beyond, but it was secluded and sported a wide cushion on which he sunk to, back braced against the wall.
He allowed himself a moment to stare sullenly ahead. Duty and fear tugged at him to return to the task at hand, but he was so tired. Sick and tired, in a very literal sense of the phrase.
A break, he bartered silently with the inhuman thing that held his family’s lives in his hand. Just a small break.
Draco waited a minute more for an answer that he nervously expected would come. When it didn’t, he sighed and fished out a small packet from his trouser pocket. He turned the folded paper over in his hands, tracing the plain DC imprinted on the corner carefully. It was his last one until he could get more from his contact, so he wanted to make it as good as possible. He thought of a sunny day at the Quidditch field, his silver and green uniform warm on his back, the Snitch wriggling in his hand, and … and …
He tapped the paper with his wand and mumbled a name along with the short spell that would activate the charm. He closed his eyes as the room melted from view.
When next he opened them, he was where he wanted to be: on a broom with the wind in his hair, the Snitch in his gloved hand, and Granger staring up at him from many feet below.
It had been hard to reconcile the idea that Hermione Granger would fit into this particular fantasy but there she was. And it being his sixth time seeing her here, he figured she wasn’t going to go away. He dropped closer to her and opened his palm as he neared.
“See? I got it.”
“You did. I suppose you’ll want me to congratulate you?” Granger let out a laugh that he somehow knew was dead-on before she shook her head. “I still don’t get the fascination with it, though.”
“What? Quidditch?”
“Yes, that too. But what I meant was flying.” She turned from where she stood at the front of the Quidditch stands and took several stairs up. A few shuffled steps inward and she stood in the middle of the row, his only witness to the spectacular catch he just made. Granger tapped a small foot, the dull knocking reaching to where Draco still floated. “It’s amazing that we can defy gravity so easily here, but I’d rather keep both my feet on the ground, thanks.”
She was further away from him; that was quickly remedied. Draco was almost level with her now, and she only had to tilt her chin up a few inches to keep eye contact. He looked back and forth between her eyes for a few silent moments before pressing his tongue behind his teeth.
“Oh, come on, Granger. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”
“You’re mental,” she declared, but the slow burn up from her collar was answer enough. “I just like being in control of things. You cannot control weather or a vindictive Hippogriff when you’re up there, all not strapped in and dangling.” Granger looked green at the thought; it made for an interesting combination with her blush.
“I’m touched by your concern, but that’s part of why flying is fun-you do know what fun is, right?” He moved his broom back, laughing, when she took a swipe at him; her lips were fighting back a grin. When he returned, he kept going forward until his feet touched the stands and Granger began stepping back. She didn’t get far with his arm wrapped around her.
“It’s all about giving in to a little of the unknown.” He whispered to the top of her head. Granger had suddenly become quite interested in his collarbone. With some encouragement from him, she tipped her head back.
“And that’s it?” she asked, eyes falling to half-mast.
Draco’s nose nudged hers. “That’s it.”
The nice thing about the Daydream Charm was that it was designed to be virtually undetectable, so coming out of the daydream was as simple as when he slipped into it. Draco had a brief impression of soft lips parting beneath his before he found himself opening his eyes to the walls of the Room of Requirement. Somewhere else in the room a chorus of out-of-tune chimes sounded the hour.
It was time to go back.
It was hard to let go of the sense of happiness the charm had left him with, and Draco fought to keep the feeling for as long as he could. When he couldn’t deny the urgency creeping back into his bones, he took one more look around before crumpling the used charm in his hand and standing.
He reminded himself that silly daydreams and even sillier ideas of speaking to The Other Side were simply not of any real help. The only purpose they served was to keep him from completely losing it under the pressure. Nothing more, nothing less. They changed nothing in his plans.
And yet, despite himself, Draco couldn’t let go of the wadded up charm. He looked around one more time before pocketing the paper and moving back through the room.