Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17

Aug 13, 2011 01:47

Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,563
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: Thanks , everyone, for the wonderful reviews. :)
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.

Thanks to themaohour for beta-ing. :)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Manorexic
Chapter Seven

Draco wasn’t entirely thrilled to be going into Hogsmeade, but Pansy had begged, and so he’d relented. He hadn’t gone once yet this year. It just hadn’t been something he’d wanted to do. He knew Pansy had gone once or twice, as had Blaise, and he thought a few other Slytherin eighth years had gone as well. Blaise wasn’t accompanying them this time, though. He still wasn’t talking to Draco.

Pansy held Draco’s gloved hand as they strolled down the snow-covered path to the little town, humming quietly to herself, and Draco was surprised to find that he felt rather peaceful. When she wasn’t being nosey or prying into his business, Pansy really was a nice person to be around.

“So,” she said suddenly, swinging their arms back and forth. “Who do you think has changed the most since first year?”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she laughed. “Everything’s been so serious lately. Can’t we talk about trivial things like normal teenagers for a minute?”

Draco smiled at her. Yes, she was definitely refreshing sometimes.

“Er - I don’t know, everyone’s changed a lot, haven’t they? Do you mean physically?”

Pansy scrunched up her face in thought and then said, “Physically first, then emotionally. Well, personality-wise, I suppose. Oh! But for physically tell me who you think has changed the most for the better.”

Of course, Potter immediately came to mind. He’d gone from being a scrawny little kid to a very attractive young man. Draco rolled his eyes at himself. He couldn’t very well mention Potter, could he? Would Pansy figure it out?

Probably not, he reasoned. She wasn’t all that bright. Easy to be around, yes, but not necessarily intelligent.

“Well, Potter’s certainly changed . . .” he offered quietly. He saw Pansy smirk and blushed.

“Knew you’d say that,” she chuckled.

“What? Why!”

“Well, you’re gay, and anyone with at least one eye and a preference for the male species could see that he turned out fit,” she said. Draco couldn’t help laughing. “For me, it would be either him or Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

“A Hufflepuff?!” Draco shouted, scandalized. Pansy giggled.

“Hey, he’s handsome! Personality’s got nothing to do with that!”

“Oh my God,” Draco grumbled. “And I thought you’d hex me for saying Potter.”

“Yes, well . . . If you pick him for emotional growth I may just do that.”

They finally made it to the Three Broomsticks and Pansy led him inside and to an empty table near the back. Draco was still dwelling on what she’d just said about Potter and his personality. He wouldn’t have chosen Potter for that anyway, if only because he’d known without her saying it that she wouldn’t have liked it, but he couldn’t pretend Potter wouldn’t be the honest choice. Not after he’d given Draco his jumper and promised to help him. Not after that sickening hero-complex had been turned on him.

He wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud, but inside Draco knew that he was thriving on being cared for by Harry Potter.

“So what about emotionally?” asked Pansy.

“I don’t know . . . I feel like everyone’s changed a lot.”

“Okay, but who’s changed the most?”

As Draco was thinking, Madam Rosmerta came by and took their orders. Pansy ordered a butterbeer and Draco asked for water. He heard her sigh next to him, but she didn’t comment.

“Well?” she prodded.

“God, Pansy, I don’t know. The Weaslette?”

Pansy looked thoughtful. “Interesting. Why?”

“Well, she didn’t become a little slut until our fifth or sixth year, did she? Before that I hardly noticed her.” That was also the year she’d dated Potter, Draco noted sourly.

“Yes, that’s true,” said Pansy. “I won’t pretend I paid much attention, but I do recall her dating several blokes. And Potter.” She laughed at this last one. “Perhaps it was her horrifying ginger bits that sent him round the bend, if you know what I mean?” She elbowed Draco and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re hysterical,” he drawled. “What about you? Who do you think has changed?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” she said with a little smirk. “You.”

Draco had taken a sip of water and he had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting it out. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” she said. “Draco, when we first came here you were loud and arrogant and obnoxious. I still loved you, mind, but you’ve definitely changed. You’re much more reserved now.”

“Is that . . . a good thing?” he asked quietly.

“In some ways.” She sipped on her butterbeer, thoughtful for a few moments. “You’re much more mature, and that’s good, because so am I, and if you were still plotting ways to get Potter expelled I might have to kill you.” Draco swallowed thickly but didn’t say anything. No, he definitely wasn’t doing that. “But in other ways it’s . . . well, it’s not bad, per se, but a little . . . I don’t know . . . sad. Frustrating.”

Draco’s heart clenched and he looked down at his hands, cupping the bottom of the glass. He felt Pansy put a hand on his shoulder.

“With everything that’s happened you’ve lost a little bit of that passion that made you you, Draco. I don’t think it’s gone forever, but I do think you need some help. Maybe not from me or Blaise, but someone. I love you. I always will.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. “But I dearly miss that old Draco who didn’t always look so . . . down.”

Draco sighed. He wished her words didn’t hurt so much. His only comfort was that he had, indeed, asked someone to help. Sort of. Even though it was rather difficult for him to believe there was a problem in the first place. A very small part of him knew he’d done it just to be around Potter more, but he adamantly ignored that.

This thought process was broken by a particularly loud grumble from his stomach. Pansy looked over, eyed him, and looked away again without speaking, choosing instead to take another gulp of her drink.

Draco had grown to like the feeling of hunger pains. It hurt, of course, but it was a good pain. He imagined he could actually feel his stomach shrinking every time it growled loudly. His stomach had become the enemy-that’s what he imagined it as, anyway. It was a monster, and of course he wouldn’t feed something that wanted to hurt him. Something that wanted to make him even more hideous than he already was.

“Is there anywhere else you wanted to go while we’re here?” he asked in an attempt to break the tension.

“No, that’s all right. We can go back if you want. I just wanted to get out and take a walk.”

Draco merely nodded and stood up, throwing a Galleon on the table to pay.

“Draco, you didn’t even get anything,” Pansy protested. He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Consider it thanks for getting me out of the castle.”

She smiled at him grudgingly and they left together, Draco unsure whether he should feel happy for a friend like Pansy or miserable that he still couldn’t get Potter out of his head.

* * *

“Merlin, that slag still hasn’t figured out that he’s a complete ponce?” Ron laughed, gesturing ahead of them to where Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were walking hand-in-hand toward Hogsmeade. Harry’s heart had climbed steadily toward his throat until it lodged itself there and refused to move. He felt like it was constricting his breathing.

He chose not to comment on Ron’s statement. For one, he didn’t know for sure that Malfoy was gay, although he strongly suspected it. Secondly, he wasn’t quite ready to deal with the fact that half of him hoped he was.

“Ron, will you please stop making such negative comments about homosexuality?” Hermione intoned. “In case you’ve forgotten, your best friend is gay!”

“It’s all right, Hermione,” Harry chuckled. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Exactly,” said Ron, folding his arms across his chest. “And I defended him to Ginny, didn’t I?”

Hermione smiled grudgingly and let the subject drop.

“How are the plans for your birthday going?” she asked. Ron brightened visibly.

“Brilliant. George owled over loads of sweets and Mum’s said she’s going to send cakes! Seamus reckons he can get some firewhiskey, too.”

“Oh, lovely,” said Hermione sarcastically. “A House full of drunken Gryffindors.”

“Hey, hey,” said Ron, holding out a hand and looking much too proud of himself. Harry bit back a laugh while Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I helped defeat You-Know-Who. Let me have my fun.”

“Says the boy who still can’t say Voldemort’s name.”

This time Harry did laugh. Ron merely scowled and followed after Hermione, who had a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

* * *

It was one o’clock in the morning. The Marauder’s Map was laid out in front of Harry on his bed. He’d been watching it by the light of his wand for the past hour, deliberating whether or not to go to the Prefects’ bathroom where Malfoy had been for half an hour now. He’d gone into a stall for around ten minutes and Harry’s stomach had twisted and turned horribly. He’d almost gotten up and gone at that point, but he’d stopped himself, deciding that their first time meeting on good (well, almost-good) terms should not start with him barging in on a purging session.

But now Malfoy appeared to be staying in one place. His dot was near the edge of the tub. Harry was still in his day clothes, never having changed out of them. He stared at the dot for a moment longer before folding the Map, grabbing his Cloak, and leaving the dorm. Malfoy had asked for help, and what other opportunity would they have to talk? Harry had the advantage of the Map, why not use it?

He checked the Map again before going in to find that Malfoy was still in exactly the same place. He tucked the Map neatly in his back pocket and walked quietly inside, dropping the Cloak softly on the floor. Malfoy heard him and turned, cheeks turning pink when he saw who it was, and looked down before turning back around.

“Hey,” said Harry, walking over to Malfoy and sitting a few feet away.

“How do you always find me?”

Harry laughed lightly. “Last time was an accident, I swear.” Malfoy looked at him and raised a brow.

“So this time wasn’t?”

Oh. Damn. Harry smiled guiltily and Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked away again.

“Well, at least you know I really do want to help,” he said softly. Malfoy made no response to this other than shifting his legs a bit. Harry took a breath. “I thought that-er-you could talk to me about, you know . . . how it all started. That would be a good first step, right?” Malfoy glared at him and Harry recoiled a bit but didn’t look away.

“No,” Malfoy said sharply. “That wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it didn’t start anywhere. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry scoffed. “Well, that’s a load of bullshit if I ever heard one.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Potter!” Malfoy stood up and glared at him. “You’re not the only one who can be perfect! Maybe everyone’s just overreacting, ever think of that? Maybe there’s nothing wrong with me! Maybe I like the way I am!”

Harry stood up now and pierced Malfoy with a stare so fierce that his mask slipped for a second. But only a second.

“Or maybe you don’t like yourself,” he said. He wasn’t sure where that had come from, but it sounded right. Malfoy thought he was fat, so obviously he thought very little of himself. Now all Harry had to do was get Malfoy to accept that and then he could actually start helping him.

Well, that should be easy, he thought sardonically.

“Maybe you think so little of yourself that your self-image is completely twisted and this is how you deal with it.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” said Malfoy through clenched teeth.

“You know what, Malfoy? I think I’ve hit the nail on the head.” Harry was getting angry and he didn’t know why. Accompanying that anger, however, was a sense of passion that he hadn’t felt since his determination to kill Voldemort. He wanted so badly to show Malfoy how wrong he was. That he did have issues because anyone in their right mind could see that he was . . . well, he was beautiful, okay? It wasn’t cheating to think someone was beautiful, was it? Of course not. Especially if this person really was beautiful. How was Harry supposed to help that? And, okay, so it made it worse if Malfoy had a crush on him-which Harry wasn’t sure about-but it wasn’t like Harry liked him back!

“I think you should leave, Potter.”

Harry sighed heavily. “What happened to what you said yesterday? About wanting my help?”

“I . . . changed my mind . . .” said Malfoy, finally looking away from Harry. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Right. Well I’ll be here the same time tomorrow night. You should come.” Malfoy didn’t respond so Harry, with another sigh, turned to grab his Cloak and left the bathroom. He wished the empty feeling in his gut would go away. There was no way he’d be sleeping much tonight.

* * *

Draco sank against a wall and let his head fall back against it. He hated the way he always lost his goddamn mind around Potter. He’d wanted to talk to him. In fact, he’d been secretly thrilled when the boy had walked into the bathroom. Unfortunately, it was also habit to yell at Potter. Specifically when he brought up sensitive topics.

Draco didn’t think he had a problem, but he knew he cared more than most-boys, at least-about his body. And he knew that this was because of his parents. But the last thing he wanted to talk to Potter about was his parents. Whichever way you looked at it that would end badly. And Potter would surely start bad-mouthing and blaming his parents. It wasn’t their fault. Draco was adamant about this. It was his fault for not living up to the Malfoy standard.

Still, as glad as he was to have avoided that topic, he desperately wished Potter was still there with him. And he hated himself for that, because he hated feeling dependent in any way on another person. If only Potter wasn’t so alluring. Something about him drew Draco in.

It may have been his eyes. They were soulful and haunted and caring and they gave Draco butterflies.

And he wanted them to himself. Just for a little bit. He wanted to know how it felt to have Potter look at him like he’d looked at Goldstein in the corridor.

In all honesty, Draco wasn’t sure that was possible. But he could at least monopolize some of Potter’s attention. And the only way to do that, he supposed, would be to come back to the bathroom tomorrow and talk to Potter. To try and open up-just a bit.

Chapter Six      |      Page of Contents      |       Chapter Eight
 

pairing:harry/draco, story:manorexic, genre:flangst, content:disorder, author:kc404duh, content:hurt/comfort, content:infidelity, content:angst, content:femme!draco, rating:nc-17, content:delicate!draco, content:first time, genre:angst, setting:hogwarts-years, setting:post-war, genre:romance, content:flirting

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