Ficlet: 'Torn' DM/HW, PG13
Title: Torn
Author: softly_sweetly
Beta: nolagal
Pairing: Draco/Hugo, Ron
Length: ~560
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this piece of fanfiction.
Warnings: Slash, a little angsty
Summary: Hugo tries to fathom out his choices
Author Notes: Counts to prompt #33 Torn from my 100quills Next Generation Table, and Day 20 over at mmom.
This follows on from Caught Out, Building Bridges and Say To Me That It's Over.
"Can you pass the peas?"
Hugo took the bowl and passed it to Rose, smiling tightly at her. The three of them could try to pretend that everything was normal, but they weren't fooling anyone. Hugo was even more miserable than he had been before-at - at least when he was at Draco's, there had been moments where he could forget, where he could pretend that everything was okay with the world. Here, the truth of the matter was displayed in every tense silence, every stilted conversation with his father, or disapproving look from his sister.
Rose didn’t understand. She was happily married to a boy her father approved of, and couldn’t comprehend what Hugo was going through. No one would ever disapprove of Lorcan Scamander. Similarly, no one would ever accuse him of being rash, or being passionate and unpredictable and devious and incredible.
Pushing his food around his plate, Hugo wondered if his mother would be so disapproving, were she still alive. He doubted it; even in her final days, she had retained her headstrong streak.
"Have you started looking for a new job?"
Hugo knew his father was just trying to make conversation, but he didn’t want to speak. Shrugging his shoulders, Hugo set his cutlery down and stood up, taking his plate into the kitchen silently.
"Hugo… come on, mate, cheer up."
Bristling, Hugo turned around and gave his father a withering stare. The man had never known when to shut up. "Just let me get over this myself."
"Get over what? Surely you can't be…"
"Say one bad word about Draco, and I swear to Merlin…" Hugo trailed off, the threat ineffective in light of his return home. "Just, don't, Dad. I love him, and I really don't care that you can't understand that. He sent me home, and you won."
Hugo couldn’t see what was so shocking about his words, so he didn't know why his father's mouth was hanging open, or why he was flushed.
"He sent you home?"
They'd never really talked about it; Hugo had just slunk home and said it was over. Picking up the dishcloth and a glass from the draining board, more for something to do than a burning desire to complete chores, Hugo nodded. "Yes, he did. So here I am, and you win. Just give me a bit of time to get over it before you start with the victory parties."
Hugo knew his words were unnecessarily sharp, but he didn't apologise or put them right, just put the glass away and tossed down the dishcloth as he headed out of the kitchen. He didn't have to go back to normal, didn't have to be okay with this. He'd loved Draco, even if he'd never found the time to say it when they were together. And if sometimes he wondered why he'd laid back, let Draco order him home like an errant schoolboy, then that was his right. He was allowed to question, to regret, and to wish he'd been happier about the choice he made.
Hugo ignored Rose when she shouted up the stairs that she was leaving, and ignored the Floo going twice. His dad was probably off round to Uncle Harry's to gloat, and Hugo wished him well. Reaching into his trousers, to see if maybe wanking furiously would clear his head, and if he could pretend for long enough that it was Draco's hand and not his own, Hugo decided that clearly, it didn't matter that he was torn in two. Just that Weasley had prevailed over Malfoy once again.
The Truth is A Bitter Pill to Take
Author: softly_sweetly
Beta: nolagal
Pairing: Draco/Hugo, Ron
Length: ~560
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this piece of fanfiction.
Warnings: Slash, a little angsty
Summary: Hugo tries to fathom out his choices
Author Notes: Counts to prompt #33 Torn from my 100quills Next Generation Table, and Day 20 over at mmom.
This follows on from Caught Out, Building Bridges and Say To Me That It's Over.
"Can you pass the peas?"
Hugo took the bowl and passed it to Rose, smiling tightly at her. The three of them could try to pretend that everything was normal, but they weren't fooling anyone. Hugo was even more miserable than he had been before-at - at least when he was at Draco's, there had been moments where he could forget, where he could pretend that everything was okay with the world. Here, the truth of the matter was displayed in every tense silence, every stilted conversation with his father, or disapproving look from his sister.
Rose didn’t understand. She was happily married to a boy her father approved of, and couldn’t comprehend what Hugo was going through. No one would ever disapprove of Lorcan Scamander. Similarly, no one would ever accuse him of being rash, or being passionate and unpredictable and devious and incredible.
Pushing his food around his plate, Hugo wondered if his mother would be so disapproving, were she still alive. He doubted it; even in her final days, she had retained her headstrong streak.
"Have you started looking for a new job?"
Hugo knew his father was just trying to make conversation, but he didn’t want to speak. Shrugging his shoulders, Hugo set his cutlery down and stood up, taking his plate into the kitchen silently.
"Hugo… come on, mate, cheer up."
Bristling, Hugo turned around and gave his father a withering stare. The man had never known when to shut up. "Just let me get over this myself."
"Get over what? Surely you can't be…"
"Say one bad word about Draco, and I swear to Merlin…" Hugo trailed off, the threat ineffective in light of his return home. "Just, don't, Dad. I love him, and I really don't care that you can't understand that. He sent me home, and you won."
Hugo couldn’t see what was so shocking about his words, so he didn't know why his father's mouth was hanging open, or why he was flushed.
"He sent you home?"
They'd never really talked about it; Hugo had just slunk home and said it was over. Picking up the dishcloth and a glass from the draining board, more for something to do than a burning desire to complete chores, Hugo nodded. "Yes, he did. So here I am, and you win. Just give me a bit of time to get over it before you start with the victory parties."
Hugo knew his words were unnecessarily sharp, but he didn't apologise or put them right, just put the glass away and tossed down the dishcloth as he headed out of the kitchen. He didn't have to go back to normal, didn't have to be okay with this. He'd loved Draco, even if he'd never found the time to say it when they were together. And if sometimes he wondered why he'd laid back, let Draco order him home like an errant schoolboy, then that was his right. He was allowed to question, to regret, and to wish he'd been happier about the choice he made.
Hugo ignored Rose when she shouted up the stairs that she was leaving, and ignored the Floo going twice. His dad was probably off round to Uncle Harry's to gloat, and Hugo wished him well. Reaching into his trousers, to see if maybe wanking furiously would clear his head, and if he could pretend for long enough that it was Draco's hand and not his own, Hugo decided that clearly, it didn't matter that he was torn in two. Just that Weasley had prevailed over Malfoy once again.
The Truth is A Bitter Pill to Take