[Fic] SPN/HP Crossover - Subtle Shining Sorceries - Chapter Eight
Title: Subtle Shining Sorceries
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Boys don’t belong to me, I promise I’ll clean them up and put them back where I found them when I’m done playing.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this was really delayed and I’m really sorry but the continuation of the battle scene was not at all sitting well with me so I had to revise it. It wasn’t until this morning that I came up with a realistic solution and yes, it is to remain a mystery. I’m being deliberately obtuse. Also this part comes with sad news. Unfortunately, I think I’m going to have to take a hiatus on this one. I just want to make sure it sticks with the original outline of the story and I find it’s not coming out as smoothly as it once was. Not for lack of ideas, but the writing itself seems a little blocked on my part. This is the last chapter I’ve written thus far that I’m actually pleased with. I’m not sure when it’ll be back, but I don’t want to abandon it, so it will be back.
Please see Master Post for Warnings and Ratings.
Additional Warnings/Notes: Okay… um… there’s a surprise pairing in here that I hadn’t intended setting out for, but it set itself up as I was writing and I just kind of went with it. This will not be the focus of the story in anyway and will probably not be explored to any extent later on. It’s a moment, it happened. Also over indulgence of alcohol in this chapter. There, you have been warned.
********************
Chapter Eight - Wherein Draco recovers consciousness long enough to get thoroughly smashed…
Draco groaned as he opened his eyes, realizing -later in life than most- that being thrown into cars hurts like bloody fuck. Draco pushed himself to his feet dizzy and disoriented and thoroughly pissed off but all that quickly faded as he took in the scene before him. Potter was in trouble.
Draco tried to rush forward but the bastard pinned him against the car he had crawled away from only a moment previously. He felt an odd discomfort, similar to a word just hanging on the tip of your tongue but not for the life of you being able to recall it. Draco knew this man, he knew he did. But just when he got a lock on the memory it seemed to flit away like a Snitch during a Quidditch match. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself, the way he spoke and the way he cast his spells. But no matter what Draco tried, looking at the man was like looking at something through a fog. You could almost wager a guess at what he was but didn’t trust your eyes enough to do so for sure.
As the man raised his wand and opened his lips to say devastating words, Draco wanted to turn his head and shut his eyes, he couldn’t watch Potter die.
“I’d like to see you try, Potter,” the man taunted.
Potter narrowed his eyes at the man, “No, trust me you wouldn’t. I’m giving you one chance to stop this madness or I’ll kill you.”
“Ha! You kill me? You can hardly bring yourself to swat a fly Potter. Killing a human being? That’s a laugh, really.”
“Things change,” Harry said darkly, the words of a curse hovering on his lips.
“Yes, sometimes, but not today,” the man’s confidence seemed shaken for a moment, despite the words, as he peered into the deadly serious green eyes of Potter. Draco had been on the receiving end of that look enough times to know that it was not at all a pleasant place to be. Potter may be short and scrawny, a little bit goofy a hell of a lot clueless sometimes but when it came to defending someone or something he cared about, he was as deadly as Voldemort. Draco shuddered at the thought.
The man’s lips quirked then, slow and cold but his eyes wavered a little, so maybe he wasn’t an idiot after all because there was very real fear in that gaze. The man seemed to change tactics all of the sudden and leap around Harry to land on both feet in front of the Winchesters, leaning menacingly in and raising his wand. Harry spun, a curse just falling free of his lips but he wasn’t fast enough.
Draco’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the seconds. The poor, stupid muggles had got caught up with them and now they were going to die. An uncomfortable feeling of sickening guilt weaseled into Draco’s motionless frame as he watched and waited, the world seemingly slowed down to afford Draco with a better view. He did have to hand it to Dean and Sam though, in the face of that power crackling they didn’t flinch. Dean just glared at the hovering wizard with cold green eyes, unwavering. Pinned and useless but ready to meet whatever he was facing.
The curse dropped free of the dark wizards lips only microseconds before Harry uttered his own but then a remarkable thing happened. The minute the sickly green lanced towards the muggles a flare like white gold sprang to life from Dean and Sam, rebelling against it and sending a shuddering crash into the wizard. In an instant he was gone.
Draco found himself able to move again and watched as the Winchesters slid down to the concrete, panting heavily.
Draco frowned, well that was riddled with clichés and utterly unexpected. What the hell just happened? One minute the man was standing in front of Potter and the next he was gone? Draco had a strange itching sensation like he was missing something. Forgetting something and it made him twitchy and anxious.
Harry lowered his wand and frowned, “Ohhh-kaaay… That bloke watches far too many films.” Draco would ask Potter what that meant later…
“Dude, what just happened?” Dean asked limping over to Potter his brother close at his back. “Shouldn’t we be vaporized by now?”
Sam looked between the men, “Was he ah… scared?”
Draco joined the group, “Perhaps unprepared? But really, we were caught completely unawares and he just runs off at the first notion of an actual fight with Potter? That seems too… tidy.” What was it Draco was forgetting? He felt as if he had just lost moments of his life!
Just as they were all prepared to shrug it off and jot it down in the diary as a fluke, a scream split the night. Without sparing a glance at one another the four men took off running. When they rounded the corner they saw the reason for their apparent good fortune.
There, lying on the concrete was a middle aged man, perhaps 35 to 40, blank unseeing eyes open to the night, pool of blood growing gradually around his prone form. Apparently the victim had already been chosen this night. And apparently the manner of death was far more brutal than previous instances.
“He’s saving you,” Draco said with grim understanding. “Probably for the third and final phase. The more powerful the wizard near the end, the more likely the spell will have desired results.” After all, if positions were reversed that’s how Draco would do it. You work your way up.
Draco watched Potter move over and crouch next to the body, closing the victim’s eyes as he did so, “Be that as it may, why is he even wanting me? I mean, I’ve got no brothers, unless you count the Weasley’s but even then there’s only si- ” Potter shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment, “Five, five boys.”
Draco glanced briefly over to the Winchesters before sighing and approaching Potter. “That’s the thing about ritual Po-Harry,” Draco said more gently than he would have liked to given current company, “it can be interpreted in many ways. Your ancestor could have been the ninth son of his parents and if you are nine generations past him, then you technically qualify as the ninth son of a ninth son. That also isn’t the only alternate possibility of course, but I suggest we move this to somewhere more private before the muggle authorities turn up.”
Draco offered Potter a hand up which Harry surprised him in taking. Draco put too much force behind the assistance though which found Harry doing an odd little hop and overbalancing into Draco’s chest. Both men paused for a moment, stunned before they were pulled out of it by the gruff muggle clearing his throat.
“Let’s go, Sammy and I just got off of the Feds’ most wanted list, we have no desire to get back on it,” Dean said quickly as his keen eyes tracked around the surroundings.
“Yeah,” Potter nodded distractedly. Draco groaned inwardly as Potter began slipping into brood mode. The occasions for it were nowhere near as common as they had been in previous years but still when Potter fell into a state it was difficult to deal with him for several days. Draco never had much patience for people who dwell on the “why mes” and utter unfairness of the world. And Harry J. Potter also just happened to be a Champion at it.
“I swear Potter, you start that self-loathing shite around me and I’ll hex you back to England,” Draco threatened.
“Let’s go, come on,” Dean said getting impatient now.
The ride back to the house was in silence. None of the men felt much like talking.
-*-
Draco downed what was probably his fourth or fifth shot of Firewhiskey as he sat alone in the darkened kitchen. The house was silent… or as silent as a house its age could be. The Winchesters had excused themselves quickly because they had to make one of those ‘phone’ calls and Potter had disappeared into his room as soon as they crossed the threshold. So Draco was left to his own devices, a state he was no longer accustomed to as he once had been. The boredom and loneliness got to him quickly and he made a call to his son, but you could only hold the attention of an energetic six year old so long.
So here Draco sat, quiet, alone and admittedly slightly drunk… Perhaps a shave more than slightly if the somewhat float-y quality of the room was anything to go by and of course the overwhelming urge to giggle. No one could say Draco Malfoy was anything but a pleasant (albeit slightly annoying) drunk. But also, no one was here to appreciate it. Draco found that thought utterly amusing and giggled a little as he had so desired.
He took another shot.
Draco turned blurry eyes over to the sound of footsteps and watched several Dean Winchesters enter the room. He took a moment to admire the set of his shoulders, the way his jeans fit is slender well-muscled (if slightly bowed) legs and of course those damn green eyes. Draco always did have a weakness for green eyes.
“You know,” Draco drawled in his best impression of himself because if he were being honest with himself (which unsurprisingly he didn’t make a habit of), he did have to admit he could only manage an impression of his usual airs at this stage. “You are a very attractive man.”
Dean snorted, “Thanks man, you too. Take another shot there.” Draco’s eyes lit up because suddenly that was the best suggestion in the world and he more than willingly complied with the order.
Dean slid into the chair across from Draco and reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table, he squinted at the label in the dark and then looked contemplatively over at the inebriated wizard.
“So Dray, can us lowly muggles handle this shit?” Dean asked.
Draco frowned, “I’m sorry what did you call me?” The blond shook his head, “I dunno… I’ve never had the occasion to find out.”
Dean shrugged one shoulder and lifted the bottle in a toast, “Well, one way to find out, bottoms up.” He took a swing and immediately found himself hacking and coughing. Draco noticed those pretty green eyes were welling up with tears as the muggle pounded his chest.
“Jesus…” Dean wheezed out after a moment and pushed the bottle away. Draco watched in fuzzy fascination as Dean pushed away from the table and retrieved his bottle of muggle drink from the cupboard where he had stashed it after they had returned from a trip to the market the other day.
The muggle didn’t bother with a glass and Draco saluted him for it, “Well at least being pathetic and together is better than being pathetic and alone.”
“Here, here!” Dean proclaimed and raised his bottle to his lips. Pretty lips. Draco titled his head slightly as he watched Dean’s throat work to swallow the contents.
Draco shook his head, “Fuck I need to get laid.”
Dean choked and spurted a small fountain of liquid across the table, which Draco didn’t find nearly as revolting as he would have sober.
Dean sputtered for a moment then his gaze turned contemplative, “Is that a proposition?”
Draco blinked, Really? He said that out loud? Wait a tick… This muggle? He didn’t seem the type... But who was Draco to judge, he mentally shrugged. To each his own.
“Do you want it to be?” Draco asked a little of the muzziness clearing from his mind at the jarring and rather abrupt turn of events. But then again, Dean’s eyes were already a bit glossy probably from the Firewhiskey and he did seem to be seriously considering it.
“Let me get a few more in me and then we’ll talk,” Dean said after a beat.
Draco laughed outright, not really sure why he found that so amusing but of course there was the whole drunk thing and maybe his naughty bits were stirring just a bit and drawing his already thin blood south of the border making his head feel a little light.
Draco raised his bottle and Dean clinked his own against it. “I’ll hold you to that,” the blond said. They drank.
They continued to drink in silence for a moment their thoughts in completely different places other than in each other’s pants if Dean’s expression was anything to go by. And Draco being in his own head knew it wasn’t the muggle he was thinking of but another green eyed man who was currently aiming for the marathon pity party of the century. Damn Potter. He hated the little bastard sometimes. Draco didn’t really know anyone else who could be so bloody arrogant and self-righteous while somehow managing to have such a poor self-esteem and self-worth that he could give a house elf a run for his gold… If house elves had gold, which they didn’t, because that was just ridiculous… Draco took another swig of Firewhiskey because he was beginning to make sense again… if not in a linear fashion.
Draco looked over at Dean once more, thought of Potter than thought screw it. It put his bottle down with rather more force than strictly necessary and walked around the table, leaned down and gave Dean a thorough kiss on that pretty mouth of his. Dean kissed back for a moment, before his surprise won over and he pulled away. He didn’t look angry or violated in anyway, just startled. Draco watched him closely for a second, but only a second because suddenly Dean’s large hands were bunched in his lapels and he was pulled forward for a crushing kiss. Now Draco didn’t mind rough and didn’t mind this at all and Dean seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment which was always a plus when snogging someone. But before it could go much farther like they both ultimately wanted it to, Dean stood with such violence that his chair tumbled over and he knocked their foreheads together as he rose.
Draco reached up and rubbed at his forehead, pouting in confusion. Dean brushed his own injury briefly before bending and righting the chair, gripping it like it was a lifeline.
“Interesting,” Draco mused, seeing something in the muggle that he had caught glimpses of but was now coming to realize more fully.
“Dray, look I…” Dean drifted awkwardly and Draco knew he didn’t imagine the nickname this time. He scrunched up his nose in distaste.
He shook his head, the vileness of curtailed naming was an issue for another time, there was something more important right now, “Dean, really its fine. That was just… weird anyway… Hot and good but…”
Dean shrugged a shoulder picking at the wood of the chair with a finger nail, “Yeah…”
Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but knew it wasn’t quite the time yet, he didn’t have all the information he needed yet and though he suspected Dean’s world had been a little more than shaken by his rebellious angel companion, Draco wasn’t sure to what extent.
“You know, stress of the day and what-not, it isn’t any wonder really…” Draco waved it off, they were both adults and drunk and it was a stupid thing to have done in the first place.
Dean quirked a grin, flashing white teeth and damn the muggle was attractive but it just wasn’t right.
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “That Firewhiskey or whatever’s a bitch. Went straight to my head.”
Draco nodded, “Agreed. I think it’s about time we sleep.”
“Probably a good idea… But hey, I can add something new to my list. Never kissed a wizard before,” Dean said as they walked towards the stairs.
“You have a list?” Draco quirked a brow.
Dean laughed, chagrined, scratching his head a little, “Yeah…”
Draco nodded, “Huh… I see. Well I’ve never kissed a muggle before so there you have it, I can start my own list.” Dean chuckled, nodded again. The walked in silence and paused a little awkwardly at the juncture leading to their separate rooms.
“Hey… ah… Dean…” Draco started hating the hesitance in his tone.
“Yeah?” Dean asked turning to the wizard.
“Do you have the feeling you’re forgetting something? I’ve not been able to shake it since earlier this evening.”
Dean paused, frowned and thought for a moment before saying, “Well, now that you mention it… Kinda. Weird huh?”
“Yes quite,” Draco responded and they went their separate ways, both of them wondering, not of the joint memory loss, but where the hell the earlier encounter had come from. It seemed supernaturally random but also neither really minded too terribly.
Draco had interesting dreams that night… Dean wasn’t quite so lucky.
TBC…
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Boys don’t belong to me, I promise I’ll clean them up and put them back where I found them when I’m done playing.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this was really delayed and I’m really sorry but the continuation of the battle scene was not at all sitting well with me so I had to revise it. It wasn’t until this morning that I came up with a realistic solution and yes, it is to remain a mystery. I’m being deliberately obtuse. Also this part comes with sad news. Unfortunately, I think I’m going to have to take a hiatus on this one. I just want to make sure it sticks with the original outline of the story and I find it’s not coming out as smoothly as it once was. Not for lack of ideas, but the writing itself seems a little blocked on my part. This is the last chapter I’ve written thus far that I’m actually pleased with. I’m not sure when it’ll be back, but I don’t want to abandon it, so it will be back.
Please see Master Post for Warnings and Ratings.
Additional Warnings/Notes: Okay… um… there’s a surprise pairing in here that I hadn’t intended setting out for, but it set itself up as I was writing and I just kind of went with it. This will not be the focus of the story in anyway and will probably not be explored to any extent later on. It’s a moment, it happened. Also over indulgence of alcohol in this chapter. There, you have been warned.
********************
Chapter Eight - Wherein Draco recovers consciousness long enough to get thoroughly smashed…
Draco groaned as he opened his eyes, realizing -later in life than most- that being thrown into cars hurts like bloody fuck. Draco pushed himself to his feet dizzy and disoriented and thoroughly pissed off but all that quickly faded as he took in the scene before him. Potter was in trouble.
Draco tried to rush forward but the bastard pinned him against the car he had crawled away from only a moment previously. He felt an odd discomfort, similar to a word just hanging on the tip of your tongue but not for the life of you being able to recall it. Draco knew this man, he knew he did. But just when he got a lock on the memory it seemed to flit away like a Snitch during a Quidditch match. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself, the way he spoke and the way he cast his spells. But no matter what Draco tried, looking at the man was like looking at something through a fog. You could almost wager a guess at what he was but didn’t trust your eyes enough to do so for sure.
As the man raised his wand and opened his lips to say devastating words, Draco wanted to turn his head and shut his eyes, he couldn’t watch Potter die.
“I’d like to see you try, Potter,” the man taunted.
Potter narrowed his eyes at the man, “No, trust me you wouldn’t. I’m giving you one chance to stop this madness or I’ll kill you.”
“Ha! You kill me? You can hardly bring yourself to swat a fly Potter. Killing a human being? That’s a laugh, really.”
“Things change,” Harry said darkly, the words of a curse hovering on his lips.
“Yes, sometimes, but not today,” the man’s confidence seemed shaken for a moment, despite the words, as he peered into the deadly serious green eyes of Potter. Draco had been on the receiving end of that look enough times to know that it was not at all a pleasant place to be. Potter may be short and scrawny, a little bit goofy a hell of a lot clueless sometimes but when it came to defending someone or something he cared about, he was as deadly as Voldemort. Draco shuddered at the thought.
The man’s lips quirked then, slow and cold but his eyes wavered a little, so maybe he wasn’t an idiot after all because there was very real fear in that gaze. The man seemed to change tactics all of the sudden and leap around Harry to land on both feet in front of the Winchesters, leaning menacingly in and raising his wand. Harry spun, a curse just falling free of his lips but he wasn’t fast enough.
Draco’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the seconds. The poor, stupid muggles had got caught up with them and now they were going to die. An uncomfortable feeling of sickening guilt weaseled into Draco’s motionless frame as he watched and waited, the world seemingly slowed down to afford Draco with a better view. He did have to hand it to Dean and Sam though, in the face of that power crackling they didn’t flinch. Dean just glared at the hovering wizard with cold green eyes, unwavering. Pinned and useless but ready to meet whatever he was facing.
The curse dropped free of the dark wizards lips only microseconds before Harry uttered his own but then a remarkable thing happened. The minute the sickly green lanced towards the muggles a flare like white gold sprang to life from Dean and Sam, rebelling against it and sending a shuddering crash into the wizard. In an instant he was gone.
Draco found himself able to move again and watched as the Winchesters slid down to the concrete, panting heavily.
Draco frowned, well that was riddled with clichés and utterly unexpected. What the hell just happened? One minute the man was standing in front of Potter and the next he was gone? Draco had a strange itching sensation like he was missing something. Forgetting something and it made him twitchy and anxious.
Harry lowered his wand and frowned, “Ohhh-kaaay… That bloke watches far too many films.” Draco would ask Potter what that meant later…
“Dude, what just happened?” Dean asked limping over to Potter his brother close at his back. “Shouldn’t we be vaporized by now?”
Sam looked between the men, “Was he ah… scared?”
Draco joined the group, “Perhaps unprepared? But really, we were caught completely unawares and he just runs off at the first notion of an actual fight with Potter? That seems too… tidy.” What was it Draco was forgetting? He felt as if he had just lost moments of his life!
Just as they were all prepared to shrug it off and jot it down in the diary as a fluke, a scream split the night. Without sparing a glance at one another the four men took off running. When they rounded the corner they saw the reason for their apparent good fortune.
There, lying on the concrete was a middle aged man, perhaps 35 to 40, blank unseeing eyes open to the night, pool of blood growing gradually around his prone form. Apparently the victim had already been chosen this night. And apparently the manner of death was far more brutal than previous instances.
“He’s saving you,” Draco said with grim understanding. “Probably for the third and final phase. The more powerful the wizard near the end, the more likely the spell will have desired results.” After all, if positions were reversed that’s how Draco would do it. You work your way up.
Draco watched Potter move over and crouch next to the body, closing the victim’s eyes as he did so, “Be that as it may, why is he even wanting me? I mean, I’ve got no brothers, unless you count the Weasley’s but even then there’s only si- ” Potter shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment, “Five, five boys.”
Draco glanced briefly over to the Winchesters before sighing and approaching Potter. “That’s the thing about ritual Po-Harry,” Draco said more gently than he would have liked to given current company, “it can be interpreted in many ways. Your ancestor could have been the ninth son of his parents and if you are nine generations past him, then you technically qualify as the ninth son of a ninth son. That also isn’t the only alternate possibility of course, but I suggest we move this to somewhere more private before the muggle authorities turn up.”
Draco offered Potter a hand up which Harry surprised him in taking. Draco put too much force behind the assistance though which found Harry doing an odd little hop and overbalancing into Draco’s chest. Both men paused for a moment, stunned before they were pulled out of it by the gruff muggle clearing his throat.
“Let’s go, Sammy and I just got off of the Feds’ most wanted list, we have no desire to get back on it,” Dean said quickly as his keen eyes tracked around the surroundings.
“Yeah,” Potter nodded distractedly. Draco groaned inwardly as Potter began slipping into brood mode. The occasions for it were nowhere near as common as they had been in previous years but still when Potter fell into a state it was difficult to deal with him for several days. Draco never had much patience for people who dwell on the “why mes” and utter unfairness of the world. And Harry J. Potter also just happened to be a Champion at it.
“I swear Potter, you start that self-loathing shite around me and I’ll hex you back to England,” Draco threatened.
“Let’s go, come on,” Dean said getting impatient now.
The ride back to the house was in silence. None of the men felt much like talking.
-*-
Draco downed what was probably his fourth or fifth shot of Firewhiskey as he sat alone in the darkened kitchen. The house was silent… or as silent as a house its age could be. The Winchesters had excused themselves quickly because they had to make one of those ‘phone’ calls and Potter had disappeared into his room as soon as they crossed the threshold. So Draco was left to his own devices, a state he was no longer accustomed to as he once had been. The boredom and loneliness got to him quickly and he made a call to his son, but you could only hold the attention of an energetic six year old so long.
So here Draco sat, quiet, alone and admittedly slightly drunk… Perhaps a shave more than slightly if the somewhat float-y quality of the room was anything to go by and of course the overwhelming urge to giggle. No one could say Draco Malfoy was anything but a pleasant (albeit slightly annoying) drunk. But also, no one was here to appreciate it. Draco found that thought utterly amusing and giggled a little as he had so desired.
He took another shot.
Draco turned blurry eyes over to the sound of footsteps and watched several Dean Winchesters enter the room. He took a moment to admire the set of his shoulders, the way his jeans fit is slender well-muscled (if slightly bowed) legs and of course those damn green eyes. Draco always did have a weakness for green eyes.
“You know,” Draco drawled in his best impression of himself because if he were being honest with himself (which unsurprisingly he didn’t make a habit of), he did have to admit he could only manage an impression of his usual airs at this stage. “You are a very attractive man.”
Dean snorted, “Thanks man, you too. Take another shot there.” Draco’s eyes lit up because suddenly that was the best suggestion in the world and he more than willingly complied with the order.
Dean slid into the chair across from Draco and reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table, he squinted at the label in the dark and then looked contemplatively over at the inebriated wizard.
“So Dray, can us lowly muggles handle this shit?” Dean asked.
Draco frowned, “I’m sorry what did you call me?” The blond shook his head, “I dunno… I’ve never had the occasion to find out.”
Dean shrugged one shoulder and lifted the bottle in a toast, “Well, one way to find out, bottoms up.” He took a swing and immediately found himself hacking and coughing. Draco noticed those pretty green eyes were welling up with tears as the muggle pounded his chest.
“Jesus…” Dean wheezed out after a moment and pushed the bottle away. Draco watched in fuzzy fascination as Dean pushed away from the table and retrieved his bottle of muggle drink from the cupboard where he had stashed it after they had returned from a trip to the market the other day.
The muggle didn’t bother with a glass and Draco saluted him for it, “Well at least being pathetic and together is better than being pathetic and alone.”
“Here, here!” Dean proclaimed and raised his bottle to his lips. Pretty lips. Draco titled his head slightly as he watched Dean’s throat work to swallow the contents.
Draco shook his head, “Fuck I need to get laid.”
Dean choked and spurted a small fountain of liquid across the table, which Draco didn’t find nearly as revolting as he would have sober.
Dean sputtered for a moment then his gaze turned contemplative, “Is that a proposition?”
Draco blinked, Really? He said that out loud? Wait a tick… This muggle? He didn’t seem the type... But who was Draco to judge, he mentally shrugged. To each his own.
“Do you want it to be?” Draco asked a little of the muzziness clearing from his mind at the jarring and rather abrupt turn of events. But then again, Dean’s eyes were already a bit glossy probably from the Firewhiskey and he did seem to be seriously considering it.
“Let me get a few more in me and then we’ll talk,” Dean said after a beat.
Draco laughed outright, not really sure why he found that so amusing but of course there was the whole drunk thing and maybe his naughty bits were stirring just a bit and drawing his already thin blood south of the border making his head feel a little light.
Draco raised his bottle and Dean clinked his own against it. “I’ll hold you to that,” the blond said. They drank.
They continued to drink in silence for a moment their thoughts in completely different places other than in each other’s pants if Dean’s expression was anything to go by. And Draco being in his own head knew it wasn’t the muggle he was thinking of but another green eyed man who was currently aiming for the marathon pity party of the century. Damn Potter. He hated the little bastard sometimes. Draco didn’t really know anyone else who could be so bloody arrogant and self-righteous while somehow managing to have such a poor self-esteem and self-worth that he could give a house elf a run for his gold… If house elves had gold, which they didn’t, because that was just ridiculous… Draco took another swig of Firewhiskey because he was beginning to make sense again… if not in a linear fashion.
Draco looked over at Dean once more, thought of Potter than thought screw it. It put his bottle down with rather more force than strictly necessary and walked around the table, leaned down and gave Dean a thorough kiss on that pretty mouth of his. Dean kissed back for a moment, before his surprise won over and he pulled away. He didn’t look angry or violated in anyway, just startled. Draco watched him closely for a second, but only a second because suddenly Dean’s large hands were bunched in his lapels and he was pulled forward for a crushing kiss. Now Draco didn’t mind rough and didn’t mind this at all and Dean seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment which was always a plus when snogging someone. But before it could go much farther like they both ultimately wanted it to, Dean stood with such violence that his chair tumbled over and he knocked their foreheads together as he rose.
Draco reached up and rubbed at his forehead, pouting in confusion. Dean brushed his own injury briefly before bending and righting the chair, gripping it like it was a lifeline.
“Interesting,” Draco mused, seeing something in the muggle that he had caught glimpses of but was now coming to realize more fully.
“Dray, look I…” Dean drifted awkwardly and Draco knew he didn’t imagine the nickname this time. He scrunched up his nose in distaste.
He shook his head, the vileness of curtailed naming was an issue for another time, there was something more important right now, “Dean, really its fine. That was just… weird anyway… Hot and good but…”
Dean shrugged a shoulder picking at the wood of the chair with a finger nail, “Yeah…”
Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but knew it wasn’t quite the time yet, he didn’t have all the information he needed yet and though he suspected Dean’s world had been a little more than shaken by his rebellious angel companion, Draco wasn’t sure to what extent.
“You know, stress of the day and what-not, it isn’t any wonder really…” Draco waved it off, they were both adults and drunk and it was a stupid thing to have done in the first place.
Dean quirked a grin, flashing white teeth and damn the muggle was attractive but it just wasn’t right.
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “That Firewhiskey or whatever’s a bitch. Went straight to my head.”
Draco nodded, “Agreed. I think it’s about time we sleep.”
“Probably a good idea… But hey, I can add something new to my list. Never kissed a wizard before,” Dean said as they walked towards the stairs.
“You have a list?” Draco quirked a brow.
Dean laughed, chagrined, scratching his head a little, “Yeah…”
Draco nodded, “Huh… I see. Well I’ve never kissed a muggle before so there you have it, I can start my own list.” Dean chuckled, nodded again. The walked in silence and paused a little awkwardly at the juncture leading to their separate rooms.
“Hey… ah… Dean…” Draco started hating the hesitance in his tone.
“Yeah?” Dean asked turning to the wizard.
“Do you have the feeling you’re forgetting something? I’ve not been able to shake it since earlier this evening.”
Dean paused, frowned and thought for a moment before saying, “Well, now that you mention it… Kinda. Weird huh?”
“Yes quite,” Draco responded and they went their separate ways, both of them wondering, not of the joint memory loss, but where the hell the earlier encounter had come from. It seemed supernaturally random but also neither really minded too terribly.
Draco had interesting dreams that night… Dean wasn’t quite so lucky.
TBC…