I Need A Drink
Oct. 20th, 2016 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ustorycollectorTitle: Chapter 12: In Which Draco Decides Some Things Are Worth Fighting For
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling and associates are the legal owners of these characters and settings. I am writing for pleasure not profit
Warnings: None for this chapter
Rating: PG - again for this chapter (there is swearing all the way through... maybe PG-13?)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 937
Summary: Harry and Draco are colleagues, who become friends who become... A simple love story about two not so simple boys.
Author's Notes: This is my first Drarry fic, and also my first Drarry series... obviously! I hope I'm doing it right. This fic is also available on tumblr and AO3 where you can find more of the story that I will be posting here. Enjoy!
Chapter One
Chapter Eleven
Draco looks at himself in his mirror. Smart black robes, hair slicked back, not a single muggle shirt in sight. His parents will be so pleased. He frowns to himself before taking a deep breath and smoothing out the lines of his forehead. Frowning creates wrinkles and lets people know that you’re feeling something. A good Malfoy doesn’t feel anything other than contempt.
Draco’s fingers itch to run through his hair, to mess it up so the bit in the front falls into his eye. He’s caught people looking at that lock of hair, clearly wanting to run their fingers through it. Ok, he says people. Harry. He quickly dismisses that thought.
Although whilst he’s on the thought of gay men, maybe he should talk to his parents tonight. Astoria is becoming… unbearable, and his father keeps mentioning heirs and rightful places. Maybe if his family are talking about Draco’s… preferences, then they won’t talk about his job tonight. He really doesn’t want to have to explain to them again why he wants to be an Auror.
His throat scratches and he instinctively reaches up to undo a top button, before freezing. His father will not like it if he goes to the Manor with one button undone. One button undone, his hair a complete mess and in muggle clothes. That would go down well. Draco sighs. It’s more hassle than it’s worth. Almost everything to do with his parents is more hassle than it’s worth.
But maybe… maybe some things are worth fighting for. He glances over at his Auror robes, draped haphazardly across a chair, a large tear on the shoulder from the warehouse fight. He hadn’t had time to fix it, what with Harry being in the hospital and then going to the Weasley’s for Sunday lunch, and considering he has five sets of Auror robes these ones just hadn’t been worn since. They’d just sort of… lain there. His stomach lurches again at the thought of Harry lying in the hospital. Bill had been amazing. Efficient and clearly the best at his job. Draco reminds himself to send an expensive bottle of whiskey to him. Theo can choose it.
He’d get used to it. That’s what Hermione and Weasley had said. He’d get used to staying in a cold waiting room, pacing the floor because he wasn’t family, so wasn’t allowed in the room straight away. That bit seemed to upset Hermione the most. That he was always in there alone until they’d figured out what was wrong. Unless he was awake. Weasley had said that whilst laughing. If Harry is awake then he shouts until Hermione and Weasley are allowed in.
Draco coughs to himself and closes his mind, putting those thoughts away. He doesn’t need to think about Harry. He needs to prepare himself for an evening with his parents. Like going into battle. Fighting. Because some things are worth fighting for. Maybe it is time…
What’s the worst his parents could do? Draco shudders at the thought. Maybe he shouldn’t think of the worst that they could do. They could disown him. Then he would… well. He’d be on his own, not having to live up to any expectations or to have any duties. To just be him. And maybe someone else. But the important thing is that it would be someone he chose. Not someone his mother chose. Not someone his father chose. Not Astoria.
Maybe… Draco walks towards the floo, picking up a bottle of wine on his way. His mother won’t smile as he gives it to them and his father will sneer at the vintage. But he’ll take it because it’s his duty to take a bottle of wine with him when he goes for dinner at his parents. They’ve made it very clear that if he isn’t going to continue living at the Manor then he will at least continue to act like a proper Malfoy.
He takes a pinch of powder and throws it into the fire, watching as the flames turn green. He steps in, speaking clearly, his stomach twisting as he travels through the floo. He sees the parlour of the Manor and steps out, his feet landing on the hard ground as he bends his head to make sure he doesn’t bang his head. Pippi, his mother’s newest house elf, comes up and bows low as he dusts the soot off his shoulders.
“Master and Mistress are waiting in the dining room,” she squeaks and Draco smiles at her. She blushes and walks out of the room as Draco follows her, the portraits of his ancestors watching him as he walks past. Maybe… he could. He could stand up to his parents. He could do what he wants, not what they want.
Draco pauses, not really aware of where he’s stopped. He glances at the hallway to his right, Hermione’s screams echoing in his head. They were easier to deal with before. Before he knew her. Before she laughed with him, and talked with him, and stroked his arm when he worried about… before. Some things are worth fighting for.
“Master Draco?” Pippi’s voice is scared and Draco forces himself not to jump. Malfoy’s don’t jump. He takes a deep breath and follows her down the hall. Yes. Some things are worth fighting for. Having control of his own life. That is worth fighting for. Harry would fight for that. He arrives at the door to the dining room. He steels himself, takes a deep breath and gets ready to fight.
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling and associates are the legal owners of these characters and settings. I am writing for pleasure not profit
Warnings: None for this chapter
Rating: PG - again for this chapter (there is swearing all the way through... maybe PG-13?)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 937
Summary: Harry and Draco are colleagues, who become friends who become... A simple love story about two not so simple boys.
Author's Notes: This is my first Drarry fic, and also my first Drarry series... obviously! I hope I'm doing it right. This fic is also available on tumblr and AO3 where you can find more of the story that I will be posting here. Enjoy!
Chapter One
Chapter Eleven
Draco looks at himself in his mirror. Smart black robes, hair slicked back, not a single muggle shirt in sight. His parents will be so pleased. He frowns to himself before taking a deep breath and smoothing out the lines of his forehead. Frowning creates wrinkles and lets people know that you’re feeling something. A good Malfoy doesn’t feel anything other than contempt.
Draco’s fingers itch to run through his hair, to mess it up so the bit in the front falls into his eye. He’s caught people looking at that lock of hair, clearly wanting to run their fingers through it. Ok, he says people. Harry. He quickly dismisses that thought.
Although whilst he’s on the thought of gay men, maybe he should talk to his parents tonight. Astoria is becoming… unbearable, and his father keeps mentioning heirs and rightful places. Maybe if his family are talking about Draco’s… preferences, then they won’t talk about his job tonight. He really doesn’t want to have to explain to them again why he wants to be an Auror.
His throat scratches and he instinctively reaches up to undo a top button, before freezing. His father will not like it if he goes to the Manor with one button undone. One button undone, his hair a complete mess and in muggle clothes. That would go down well. Draco sighs. It’s more hassle than it’s worth. Almost everything to do with his parents is more hassle than it’s worth.
But maybe… maybe some things are worth fighting for. He glances over at his Auror robes, draped haphazardly across a chair, a large tear on the shoulder from the warehouse fight. He hadn’t had time to fix it, what with Harry being in the hospital and then going to the Weasley’s for Sunday lunch, and considering he has five sets of Auror robes these ones just hadn’t been worn since. They’d just sort of… lain there. His stomach lurches again at the thought of Harry lying in the hospital. Bill had been amazing. Efficient and clearly the best at his job. Draco reminds himself to send an expensive bottle of whiskey to him. Theo can choose it.
He’d get used to it. That’s what Hermione and Weasley had said. He’d get used to staying in a cold waiting room, pacing the floor because he wasn’t family, so wasn’t allowed in the room straight away. That bit seemed to upset Hermione the most. That he was always in there alone until they’d figured out what was wrong. Unless he was awake. Weasley had said that whilst laughing. If Harry is awake then he shouts until Hermione and Weasley are allowed in.
Draco coughs to himself and closes his mind, putting those thoughts away. He doesn’t need to think about Harry. He needs to prepare himself for an evening with his parents. Like going into battle. Fighting. Because some things are worth fighting for. Maybe it is time…
What’s the worst his parents could do? Draco shudders at the thought. Maybe he shouldn’t think of the worst that they could do. They could disown him. Then he would… well. He’d be on his own, not having to live up to any expectations or to have any duties. To just be him. And maybe someone else. But the important thing is that it would be someone he chose. Not someone his mother chose. Not someone his father chose. Not Astoria.
Maybe… Draco walks towards the floo, picking up a bottle of wine on his way. His mother won’t smile as he gives it to them and his father will sneer at the vintage. But he’ll take it because it’s his duty to take a bottle of wine with him when he goes for dinner at his parents. They’ve made it very clear that if he isn’t going to continue living at the Manor then he will at least continue to act like a proper Malfoy.
He takes a pinch of powder and throws it into the fire, watching as the flames turn green. He steps in, speaking clearly, his stomach twisting as he travels through the floo. He sees the parlour of the Manor and steps out, his feet landing on the hard ground as he bends his head to make sure he doesn’t bang his head. Pippi, his mother’s newest house elf, comes up and bows low as he dusts the soot off his shoulders.
“Master and Mistress are waiting in the dining room,” she squeaks and Draco smiles at her. She blushes and walks out of the room as Draco follows her, the portraits of his ancestors watching him as he walks past. Maybe… he could. He could stand up to his parents. He could do what he wants, not what they want.
Draco pauses, not really aware of where he’s stopped. He glances at the hallway to his right, Hermione’s screams echoing in his head. They were easier to deal with before. Before he knew her. Before she laughed with him, and talked with him, and stroked his arm when he worried about… before. Some things are worth fighting for.
“Master Draco?” Pippi’s voice is scared and Draco forces himself not to jump. Malfoy’s don’t jump. He takes a deep breath and follows her down the hall. Yes. Some things are worth fighting for. Having control of his own life. That is worth fighting for. Harry would fight for that. He arrives at the door to the dining room. He steels himself, takes a deep breath and gets ready to fight.
