you might not know how to quit him (but boy, do we wish you did) - HP - R
Title: you might not know how to quit him (but boy, do we wish you did)
Author: anamuan
Fandom, Pairing: Harry Potter, Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1,766 words
Rating: R, for sexual content.
Summary: We've all been the friend who gets to play witness to the car-crash relationship. Having magic doesn't get you out of it.
Warnings: Possible domestic violence triggers but er. it's mutual? I wouldn't say anyone is being abused, but if this is touchy for you, you may want to stay clear anyway.
Note: This is coffeeandice's fault in every way imaginable. Prompt was: Calling it quits is always an option. Diverges from canon at some point, god only knows where.
Calling it quits is always an option, except that doesn't work either. They're still miserable all the time, only more lonely, and have even less excuse to be less than vicious to each other. The best part about loving someone is how well you know them, and the worst part about knowing someone is all the perfect, tiny, cruel ways you know to get in under their guard. They've always been particularly good at that part.
Their friends get disgusted with both of them and start walking out on any conversations where the other's name comes up in silent protest. Listening only encourages them, and being present seems to lead them to believe that their friends are listening. There's a bad break-up and there's driving everyone around you crazy, and Harry and Draco are well, well, well beyond the crazy dividing line. Arguably, this isn't new either.
Later they'll either kill each other, or get back together because not being together is actually worse. They're just as unhappy and cruel to each other, but they don't get to have make-up sex.
Their relationship consists primarily of screaming fights. And sex. which is very good, mind. It's all the passion, or something. Ron, pointedly, does not want to hear about it, thank you very much. Harry usually sulks a little at this point, feeling as though no one ever wants to listen to what he has to say.
All of their friends continue having alcoholism problems impromptu, unofficial group therapy sessions at the pub where they bitch about Harry and Draco and try to drink themselves into better friends (that is to say, they try to drink enough that they feel they still want to put up with the two of them.) Considering how little their friends like each other, this is impressive. The more reasonable members point out that at least Draco and Harry can't have accidental children to bring into their dysfunction.
Hermione blames herself, for not doing a better job making sure Harry wasn't absolutely batshit crazy. Draco would agree, if he could hear her. It's good that he can't, though, because her next thought is, inevitably, that Draco was clearly a lost cause anyway. (She says this as a dig at his friends who are at the pub with them. Once this started a brawl that got them all thrown out. On the street outside, everyone made plans for 'same time next week?' but decided they'd probably better find a different location for a couple of weeks, until the owner forgave them for the poorly aimed hexes.)
Their lives are hard, being caught on the fringes of an epic tragic relationship. Harry might not want all the attention, and he might not like all the drama, but he sure as fuck attracts it. Draco makes a very good drama queen. It's inevitable that their relationship would go up like a massive fucking pile of TNT periodically. The only thing that would be worse is if they tried dating anyone else. (That happened, several times. Nothing good ever resulted. If you buy the shots, one of their friends will tell you about some of them sometime)
*
Harry and Draco get into screaming fights in the street sometimes, or throw each other's things out the 3rd story window, and keep all the neighbours up at night. Crabbe, Goyle, Ron and Hermione all shake their heads and try not to catch anyone's eye because for fuck's sake shouldn't they have outgrown this in secondary school?
Do you know how frustrating it is to throw your former significant other's things out the window only to have all the items levitate themselves before they hit the ground? It takes all the joy out of it if nothing shatters spectacularly.
Half the neighbourhood had to be obliviated, and the other half wish they had been.
*
Next time Draco uses incendio, with much better results. Harry loses the ugliest couch on the face of the planet, which he--Draco is convinced (rightly) that Harry bought just to spite him. Draco loses most of one eyebrow, but it was a noble sacrifice laid down for the much greater good.
After the fire trucks have left (funny, how Muggles panic when couches are burning on the front steps of a town house and nothing can put the flames out. Really they're far too excitable, Muggles are.) and Harry's come home to survey the damage, they get into yet another screaming fight in the street (forth in two weeks. Sadly, not a record), and the neighbours get a lot more information than they ever wanted to know about that time Draco and Harry were taking a break, and Harry hooked up with a Ravenclaw tramp--
--is not a tramp, and she was a hell of a lot better in bed than you ever were--
--Oh, what, did she tell she actually orgasmed? She was lying; she just wanted it to end, and that seemed the fastest way--
--Go fuck yourself, Draco Malfoy--
At which point, they start throwing hexes along with obscenities and get arrested for disturbing the peace. By Muggle police, no less. They have to be kept in separate gaol cells, because the three drug dealers and the prostitute in the cell with them made up a petition.
Three days later, they have mind-melting make up sex, and they're back together. Harry helps Draco draw on his eyebrow at a properly supercilious angle every morning. Their friends all despair. They know how it's going to end.
*
One year for Christmas everyone goes in together and gets them couples' counselling. By April, she's had a nervous breakdown and moves to Spain. "The air's so much better for her there," her daughter tells them frostily. What she really means is Draco and Harry aren't there.
*
Crabbe actually hates the good patches the most, because then they have to put up with near-constant PDA. The only piece of furniture Draco seems to recognize is Harry's lap. Harry actually coos at Draco, which is massively disturbing, you have to admit that. It's all pet names and baby-talk in the third person. It isn't right.
So you can't take them anywhere like that, sure, but you absolutely cannot invite them over either. Something like this always happens: Harry excuses himself to go to the restroom, and then Draco volunteers to get some more from the kitchen when you run out of jam at table, and then seven minutes later you walk in on them having incredibly unsanitary sex on the kitchen counter. Seriously? The kitchen counter? Crabbe makes food there. He makes his grandmother tea on that counter when she comes over to visit; if they really must have illicit sex in one of their friends' houses during a social function, can they seriously not have used the floor? A wall? His fucking bed? At least the sheets can be changed.
They don't even have the decency to look embarrassed about it, and if Crabbe had wanted to think about Draco's sweaty balls, he'd have agreed that one time Draco had come over three sheets to the wind and tried to talk him into having sex with him to get back at Harry for wanting to go to the Weasleys' for Christmas. Draco was still kind of jealous of Ginny, for having gotten to Harry first, even if Harry had spent that entire year being obsessed with Draco anyway.
But no, instead of behaving properly shamefaced about it when Crabbe walks into his own kitchen and finds them in flagrante delicto, Harry growls, "Don't look at him; you look at me. You're mine and you'll come because I want you to," and Draco's eyes snap back to Harry's face, and then his face screws up, and Crabbe stumbles backwards out of his kitchen in horror, with one hand clasped tight over his eyes because he's had enough trauma in his life, he doesn't need this one.
Back in the parlour, Goyle is properly sympathetic, and Crabbe can't help but feel grateful when Pansy storms quickly into the kitchen. She can be absolutely terrifying when she's like that. It's one of his favourite things about her.
She comes back in almost immediately. "They were done already. Pants on and everything," she frowns. Crabbe nearly chokes on his tongue in betrayal, and Goyle has to pound him on the back. "What? They're fit; you have to admit it."
Crabbe makes more choking noises. He really might be swallowing his tongue. He hopes he dies quickly; it would be a relief. His suffering would end.
"Oh, like you wouldn't enjoy a free show. Don't start with me. I know about those magazines you had under your bed in 5th year."
*
Once the Muggle police get called to Draco and Harry's then-shared flat for a domestic disturbance, but when they arrive, they can't decide who's meant to be abusing whom, and there's a hurried discussion on their front doorstep.
"They're clearly both abusing each other," one says.
"These calls are always so sad. Makes you really appreciate the Missus or Mister at home," the partner nods along, and in the meantime, Harry and Draco get back to their interrupted fight. Draco maybe throws a vase, and Harry maybe magics it back together for the express purpose of throwing it back, and at that point the police step in and arrest them both.
They get their pictures in the Daily Prophet, and Draco frames the one of Harry with the headline Boy Who Lived Lives to Become Batterer. Three weeks later, they've made up again, and Draco moves back in. Harry ends up taking Draco to St. Mungo's after he falls off a broom while mucking about trying to keep the squirrels from coming in through their chimney, and one of the nurses slips Draco a pamphlet about domestic violence and tells him, voice low and furtive, that he doesn't have to live this way, and that there are people who can help. Draco laughs in her face.
He also keeps the framed newspaper clipping. In fact, he nails it to the mantle, so Harry can never keep it from its proper, prominent place of display.
He cackles about this precisely until he overhears Ginny tell Harry, "I told you Malfoy would be no good for you, but you never listen to me," when it suddenly ceases to be at all amusing and Draco drags Harry home from the party early in a jealous fit. Nobody ever claimed that Draco shared well.
Harry's never wanted him to, anyway.
Author: anamuan
Fandom, Pairing: Harry Potter, Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1,766 words
Rating: R, for sexual content.
Summary: We've all been the friend who gets to play witness to the car-crash relationship. Having magic doesn't get you out of it.
Warnings: Possible domestic violence triggers but er. it's mutual? I wouldn't say anyone is being abused, but if this is touchy for you, you may want to stay clear anyway.
Note: This is coffeeandice's fault in every way imaginable. Prompt was: Calling it quits is always an option. Diverges from canon at some point, god only knows where.
Calling it quits is always an option, except that doesn't work either. They're still miserable all the time, only more lonely, and have even less excuse to be less than vicious to each other. The best part about loving someone is how well you know them, and the worst part about knowing someone is all the perfect, tiny, cruel ways you know to get in under their guard. They've always been particularly good at that part.
Their friends get disgusted with both of them and start walking out on any conversations where the other's name comes up in silent protest. Listening only encourages them, and being present seems to lead them to believe that their friends are listening. There's a bad break-up and there's driving everyone around you crazy, and Harry and Draco are well, well, well beyond the crazy dividing line. Arguably, this isn't new either.
Later they'll either kill each other, or get back together because not being together is actually worse. They're just as unhappy and cruel to each other, but they don't get to have make-up sex.
Their relationship consists primarily of screaming fights. And sex. which is very good, mind. It's all the passion, or something. Ron, pointedly, does not want to hear about it, thank you very much. Harry usually sulks a little at this point, feeling as though no one ever wants to listen to what he has to say.
All of their friends continue having alcoholism problems impromptu, unofficial group therapy sessions at the pub where they bitch about Harry and Draco and try to drink themselves into better friends (that is to say, they try to drink enough that they feel they still want to put up with the two of them.) Considering how little their friends like each other, this is impressive. The more reasonable members point out that at least Draco and Harry can't have accidental children to bring into their dysfunction.
Hermione blames herself, for not doing a better job making sure Harry wasn't absolutely batshit crazy. Draco would agree, if he could hear her. It's good that he can't, though, because her next thought is, inevitably, that Draco was clearly a lost cause anyway. (She says this as a dig at his friends who are at the pub with them. Once this started a brawl that got them all thrown out. On the street outside, everyone made plans for 'same time next week?' but decided they'd probably better find a different location for a couple of weeks, until the owner forgave them for the poorly aimed hexes.)
Their lives are hard, being caught on the fringes of an epic tragic relationship. Harry might not want all the attention, and he might not like all the drama, but he sure as fuck attracts it. Draco makes a very good drama queen. It's inevitable that their relationship would go up like a massive fucking pile of TNT periodically. The only thing that would be worse is if they tried dating anyone else. (That happened, several times. Nothing good ever resulted. If you buy the shots, one of their friends will tell you about some of them sometime)
*
Harry and Draco get into screaming fights in the street sometimes, or throw each other's things out the 3rd story window, and keep all the neighbours up at night. Crabbe, Goyle, Ron and Hermione all shake their heads and try not to catch anyone's eye because for fuck's sake shouldn't they have outgrown this in secondary school?
Do you know how frustrating it is to throw your former significant other's things out the window only to have all the items levitate themselves before they hit the ground? It takes all the joy out of it if nothing shatters spectacularly.
Half the neighbourhood had to be obliviated, and the other half wish they had been.
*
Next time Draco uses incendio, with much better results. Harry loses the ugliest couch on the face of the planet, which he--Draco is convinced (rightly) that Harry bought just to spite him. Draco loses most of one eyebrow, but it was a noble sacrifice laid down for the much greater good.
After the fire trucks have left (funny, how Muggles panic when couches are burning on the front steps of a town house and nothing can put the flames out. Really they're far too excitable, Muggles are.) and Harry's come home to survey the damage, they get into yet another screaming fight in the street (forth in two weeks. Sadly, not a record), and the neighbours get a lot more information than they ever wanted to know about that time Draco and Harry were taking a break, and Harry hooked up with a Ravenclaw tramp--
--is not a tramp, and she was a hell of a lot better in bed than you ever were--
--Oh, what, did she tell she actually orgasmed? She was lying; she just wanted it to end, and that seemed the fastest way--
--Go fuck yourself, Draco Malfoy--
At which point, they start throwing hexes along with obscenities and get arrested for disturbing the peace. By Muggle police, no less. They have to be kept in separate gaol cells, because the three drug dealers and the prostitute in the cell with them made up a petition.
Three days later, they have mind-melting make up sex, and they're back together. Harry helps Draco draw on his eyebrow at a properly supercilious angle every morning. Their friends all despair. They know how it's going to end.
*
One year for Christmas everyone goes in together and gets them couples' counselling. By April, she's had a nervous breakdown and moves to Spain. "The air's so much better for her there," her daughter tells them frostily. What she really means is Draco and Harry aren't there.
*
Crabbe actually hates the good patches the most, because then they have to put up with near-constant PDA. The only piece of furniture Draco seems to recognize is Harry's lap. Harry actually coos at Draco, which is massively disturbing, you have to admit that. It's all pet names and baby-talk in the third person. It isn't right.
So you can't take them anywhere like that, sure, but you absolutely cannot invite them over either. Something like this always happens: Harry excuses himself to go to the restroom, and then Draco volunteers to get some more from the kitchen when you run out of jam at table, and then seven minutes later you walk in on them having incredibly unsanitary sex on the kitchen counter. Seriously? The kitchen counter? Crabbe makes food there. He makes his grandmother tea on that counter when she comes over to visit; if they really must have illicit sex in one of their friends' houses during a social function, can they seriously not have used the floor? A wall? His fucking bed? At least the sheets can be changed.
They don't even have the decency to look embarrassed about it, and if Crabbe had wanted to think about Draco's sweaty balls, he'd have agreed that one time Draco had come over three sheets to the wind and tried to talk him into having sex with him to get back at Harry for wanting to go to the Weasleys' for Christmas. Draco was still kind of jealous of Ginny, for having gotten to Harry first, even if Harry had spent that entire year being obsessed with Draco anyway.
But no, instead of behaving properly shamefaced about it when Crabbe walks into his own kitchen and finds them in flagrante delicto, Harry growls, "Don't look at him; you look at me. You're mine and you'll come because I want you to," and Draco's eyes snap back to Harry's face, and then his face screws up, and Crabbe stumbles backwards out of his kitchen in horror, with one hand clasped tight over his eyes because he's had enough trauma in his life, he doesn't need this one.
Back in the parlour, Goyle is properly sympathetic, and Crabbe can't help but feel grateful when Pansy storms quickly into the kitchen. She can be absolutely terrifying when she's like that. It's one of his favourite things about her.
She comes back in almost immediately. "They were done already. Pants on and everything," she frowns. Crabbe nearly chokes on his tongue in betrayal, and Goyle has to pound him on the back. "What? They're fit; you have to admit it."
Crabbe makes more choking noises. He really might be swallowing his tongue. He hopes he dies quickly; it would be a relief. His suffering would end.
"Oh, like you wouldn't enjoy a free show. Don't start with me. I know about those magazines you had under your bed in 5th year."
*
Once the Muggle police get called to Draco and Harry's then-shared flat for a domestic disturbance, but when they arrive, they can't decide who's meant to be abusing whom, and there's a hurried discussion on their front doorstep.
"They're clearly both abusing each other," one says.
"These calls are always so sad. Makes you really appreciate the Missus or Mister at home," the partner nods along, and in the meantime, Harry and Draco get back to their interrupted fight. Draco maybe throws a vase, and Harry maybe magics it back together for the express purpose of throwing it back, and at that point the police step in and arrest them both.
They get their pictures in the Daily Prophet, and Draco frames the one of Harry with the headline Boy Who Lived Lives to Become Batterer. Three weeks later, they've made up again, and Draco moves back in. Harry ends up taking Draco to St. Mungo's after he falls off a broom while mucking about trying to keep the squirrels from coming in through their chimney, and one of the nurses slips Draco a pamphlet about domestic violence and tells him, voice low and furtive, that he doesn't have to live this way, and that there are people who can help. Draco laughs in her face.
He also keeps the framed newspaper clipping. In fact, he nails it to the mantle, so Harry can never keep it from its proper, prominent place of display.
He cackles about this precisely until he overhears Ginny tell Harry, "I told you Malfoy would be no good for you, but you never listen to me," when it suddenly ceases to be at all amusing and Draco drags Harry home from the party early in a jealous fit. Nobody ever claimed that Draco shared well.
Harry's never wanted him to, anyway.