serpentqueen13: Take My Pain Away (Draco/Morag, PG-13)
Title: Take My Pain Away
Author: serpentqueen13
Rating: PG-13 for cursing
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: #29~Weakness
Word Count: 3,161
Summary: Morag is in a coma and even in the midst of the war, and even though he's not sure why, Draco still visits.
Warnings: Flangst, cursing, het
Notes: Also for hp_100songs Prompt #75~Jimmy Eat World~Pain. Also, many thanks to sappholococcus for her help with Draco.
I don't feel the way I've ever felt.
I know.
I'm gonna smile and not get worried.
I try but it shows.
Draco hadn't expected things to happen quite like this. He wasn't someone who got worried for people. He never cared. he was a Slytherin after all, and a Malfoy. Caring, emotion in general was weakness. That had been pounded into his head since he was a child. But, here he was, worried nonetheless, his shoes making odd squeaking noises against the tile of St. Mungo's fourth floor. He smiled at the nurse as he reached the room he wanted, even though it was patently false and didn't reach his eyes.
Anyone can make what I have built.
And better now
Anyone can find the same white pills.
It takes my pain away.
Draco was always cautious when he opened the door and entered the room, almost as if afraid the witch in the bed woould jump up and throw a hex or curse at him, and oddly enough, sometimes--half-hoping she would. Sometimes, rarely, there would be other people in the room, and he would carefully make some excuse and leave again. On days like this, however, when he could fit them into his busy and dangerous schedule and there was no one around, he would visit.
Well, not visit...that suggested that he actually cared, and he didn't, not really.
He came to see a...friend. Morag was his friend. And here she was, lying in some ridiculously narrow hospital bed, tubes and diagnostic patches all over her body as she lay in a coma, and he hoped...
Not hoped. Malfoys don't hope. He'd like it if whatever dreams she was having--if there were any dreams when one was in a catatonic state--were more pleasant than the war-torn reality outside the hospital walls.
He didn't know how long he sat there, silent, just watching the steady rise and fall of the woman's chest, before the nurse came in, pushing the medicine trolley. She smiled knowingly at him, which irritated Draco. The nurse knew nothing, how dare she think she even came close to understanding why he was there?
Hell, he didn't even understand it.
He watched through narrow eyes as the nurse parted Morag's lips and fed her three small white pills, and as always, shook back bitter laughter. As if a general curative could fix this, take the pain away, maybe, but not fix it.
It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)
Never mind these are hurried times.
Oh oh oh
I can't let it bother me.
Draco sat there for awhile, until the silence got to be too much, and then slowly began to tell the redhead who was so far beyond him he doubted his words even penetrated her mind about things that were happening--battles fought, stupid comments made by the goodie-goodies--things she would have laughed and snarked over with him before. Somehow, even though she never answered, it was better than the silence, because unlike the silence that had used to fall between them this was artificial and seemed so much more permanent.
Soon, though, even the words began to ring hollow, alone in the air without another voice to accompany them. He started hating how thin his voice sounded, and finally stopped talking at all. He stared at her mouth, as if willing her to speak simply by the weight of his eyes, and when that wasn't enough, he got up and moved closer.
"Damn it, Blood," he whispered, more frustrated with himself than with her. "Wake up."
A few seconds passed, and she didn't make a sound. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her hard, as if begging wordlessly for her mouth to open, but it didn't work. Draco stared at her for a second, then wiped his mouth and turned away, trying not to feel rejected.
I never thought I'd walk away from you.
I did.
But it's a false sense of accomplishment.
Every time I quit
He left. He always did, and for a few moments after disappearing from the hospital and returning to whatever safe house the beloved Order had given him at the moment, the relief of being able to pull away, the accomplishment that said yes, he was above it, he didn't care faded into a sense of withdrawl.
Maybe that was it. Morag was a drug, and he was addicted. All he had to do then, was stay away. Simple, right? He tried--he always tried, and he always failed. He would find himself reading some outdated tome in some moth eaten library and instead of the words memories would play across his mind. How they had met after Hogwarts, in a small Muggle cafe, codenames neither needed to identify each other that turned into--something more; him giving her a hit for the Death Eaters, and she talking about the uselessness of sides, then a quick interlude in the dirty, grimy bathroom.
Or he would be sitting eating dinner and recall how Voldemort wanted her to take the Mark and it was his job to turn her--and he did, but more than once, because he had taken her with him when he had joined the Order of the Phoenix in order to protect his own hide; and she had followed without question.
In Order meetings he'd recall how she'd sit beside him, whispering snarky comments about their lack of strategy in his ear while she could, or even the way she'd just sit there with her hand on his leg as if it belonged there before they disappeared to whatever Death Eater assignment they had.
Some addictions were more than physical, and he was angry for letting himself get so close, angry at her for getting cursed in battle, angry at her for leaving him alone in the limbo between the angels and demons who didn't see the shades of grey, but...he went back. He always did.
Anyone can see my every flaw.
It isn't hard.
Anyone can say they're above this all.
It takes my pain away.
The next time he visited, Granger was leaving the room and it set him on edge. She was here because she felt she should be, because it was the right thing to do. Everyone knew that Morag had about as much affection for Hermione Granger as he did for hippogriffs, if not less, and the two had gotten on precisely that well.
He came because...because he needed her, weakness as it might be, and he realised now that everyone could see that, and it soured his mood. People like his father could say that needing anyone was a weakness, that he should turn away now and not look back, but damn what they might say, it hurt without her, and while it hurt to be here, to see her like this, it took some of the pain away.
It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)
Never mind these are hurried times.
Oh oh oh
I can't let it bother me.
Draco sat there, in the hard, uncomfortable, chair with the rubber stoppers on it that made creaking noises when he shifted, and traced the Dark Mark on her skin, remembering how she had refused to cry out, and somehow managed to find him in the sea of black cloaks and white masks, hard like false skulls worn on the outside, her brown eyes boring into his silver ones.
Even now, sitting here with his hand on her skin, comforted by the warmth of life that somehow managed to pale to the usual heat of her body, the thoughts came unbidden. He had been nervous about asking her to join him in playing against the Death Eaters--afraid he might have to kill her, but she hadn't even missed a beat, and he had never quite understood how she could possibly follow without even asking a single question.
If only she could follow him into wakefulness, out of this horrid hospital, then none of that would even matter. He stood up as if to go, but found himself clinging to her arm as if it was she that was going to pull away, and moved closer to the bed instead of towards the door. If she was never going to wake up, he might as well know what it would feel like to actually hold her. Carefully, he wrapped both arms behind her shoulders and neck, and rested his head against her shoulder for a long moment before beginning to feel very, very stupid. He kissed her quickly and pulled away, touching his mouth as if he could enforce the feeling of her lips against his.
I can't let it bother me.
It takes my pain away
The final battle was like none of those old myths people talk about, or glorious victories of good triumphing over evil. It was rainy, wet, blood-soaked, long and violent. Some died not from wounds or curses but from sheer exhaustion, and at one point Draco just wanted to hit Harry and point out the three or four shots that he had passed up, shots the wonder boy didn't even see. Vaguely, Draco wondered how it was that he had lasted so long when he had such obvious holes in his guard, and then the thought of Morag popped into his mind again, pale and wan on a hospital bed, and he fought harder, if only to banish the image.
It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)
Never mind these are hurried times.
Oh oh oh
I can't let it bother me.
When he had all of his wounds treated and various salves and balms applied like the rest of the lucky saps who had survived what had been the final battle, he stood up and walked further down into the ward for hopeless cases. One nurse, someone new, moved to stop him but one of her co-workers stilled her and he didn't even notice.
He fell almost exhausted onto the chair, and felt tears prick at his eyelids when he saw that nothing had changed--Morag's brown eyes were still fixed unseeingly at the ceiling and the various spells were still keeping track of her vital signs, unchanged from the status quo. he hadn't expected her to be better just because the war was over, but...
But...he had wanted it so badly.
"Fuck you," he muttered, suddenly angry. "You skipped out on the whole fucking war."
She didn't respond, of course, and he yelled it again-- "Fuck you!"-- until it rang from the walls. He imagined her hearing it, wherever she was, and immediately felt bad about it. He got to his feet to apologise, reaching out to cover her ears.
"I didn't mean it," he whispered, wondering if he was going insane. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Come back."
And then he was crying, because he had just apologised, an event which had happened so few times in his life that he could count them on one hand, and why the hell couldn't he go and make it worse with tears?
"I'm sorry," he repeated, just for good measure, and leaned over to kiss her. "I'm sorry." Two hands, now, he thought wryly, and turned away.
Morag made a soft kitten-like mewl, more of a rush of escaped air than anything else as her hands tightened in the blanket and her eyes closed and then opened again, very slowly.
Draco froze halfway to the door. He wanted to look around, to believe that she'd really made the sound, but the way his luck had been going... no. It would hurt too much, it must be a noise he'd made without realising-- he was crying, after all-- but he couldn't make himself take another step, either.
"Blood?" he said finally, not even bothering to be embarrassed at the hoarse squeak his voice had turned into as he waited, trembling so hard he thought he might actually fall apart at the seams and barely even daring to breathe.
Morag's brain was hazy and her muscles seemed stiff and tired, even as she tried to move, managing to do little more than lick her lips with her dry tongue that felt like sandpaper and tasted worse. She tried to speak, but she couldn't quite manage it, making something that sounded more like a cough or a wheeze than anything else as she turned her head.
Draco inhaled sharply, more from surprise than from holding his breath, even though his lungs were burning. Finally, he clenched his fists and gathered up the courage to turn around, and nearly fainted with relief when he saw that she was awake. He found himself back at the side of her bed without really knowing how he'd gotten there, taking her face in both shaking hands and staring down at her in awe. "Oh my god," he was saying, over and over, because he seemed to have lost control over his faculties. "Oh my god, you're..."
Morag blinked and stared up at him, trying to understand the expression on his face. "Jus' me, Fire..." She managed, though her voice was hoarse and rusty from disuse. Really, not that she minded the way he was looking at her--she rather liked it, in fact, but it was confusing her.
"Missed you," Draco said fervently, and leaned in to kiss her, parting her lips with his tongue as if he could soothe away the roughness in her throat.
Okay..., Morag thought, still confused, but then he was kissing her, and that was so much more important, and she fought to move her arms as she pulled herself up enough to press against him slightly, kissing him back as much as she could, running her tongue lightly along his.
Draco realised vaguely that she was struggling to stay upright, and leaned into her so that she could use the bed for support. He could barely believe that she was awake, that she was kissing him back, and after he'd convinced himself of it he pulled back, breathing hard.
"Missed you," he repeated breathlessly, and wiped absently at his cheeks with the backs of his hands to hide his tears.
"Okay..." Morag managed after a minute when she had gotten her breath back. "'m no' dea', Fire...wha' are ye on about?" She sighed and tried to sit up to kiss him again. "No' tha' I'm complaining about the kisses."
"Thought you weren't coming back," Draco said hoarsely, and his eyes grew bright. He kissed her gently, lingeringly, as if she might go right back to her coma if he stopped touching her. "You were gone for so long... you missed the entire war, almost."
Morag blinked at that, and focused on the familiar kiss, because that was less confusing."Where'd I go?" She asked finally, biting down gently on his lip before pulling away. "What happened?"
"You got cursed," Draco told her, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of her teeth. "Cursed and... put in the hospital..."
"Hate hospitals." Morag muttered, falling back against the bed with a sigh, unable to hold herself up anymore. "Bloody weak, I am."
"But you're awake," Draco said, almost hesitantly. He leaned over the bed, grabbing hold of her hand to make sure she wasn't going to faint again. "That means you can get out of here. Finally."
"Yes, get out." Morag agreed, pulling herself up again and swinging her legs around the bed, even though her muscles protested. "Hate hospitals. Love you." She had been asleep so long that apparently her mind to mouth control wasn't what it used to be and her free hand flew to her mouth in shock, covering it as if it could shove the traitorous words back.
"Careful," Draco began, moving to help her, and froze with his arms outstretched. He literally could not move-- his arms had welded themselves in place, his feet were glued to the floor, even his eyes refused to blink. "You..." he managed, but his tongue was heavy. "What?"
"Unholy fuck..." Morag whined, turning scarlet and looking away. "I hate hospitals." She gritted out from behind clenched teeth. "Kill me, please."
That snapped Draco out of his trance. He took hold of her arms the way he'd been intending to in the first place, and took a deep breath. "No, you only just came back," he protested softly, ears still ringing with those two words. "I can't... that'd be even worse. Don't..." He wasn't making any sense at all. Did he love her? He couldn't tell, his emotions were all whirling beneath a suffocating relief and need, but he thought he very well might. "Iloveyoutoo?"
Morag's breath caught in her throat and she shook slightly for a moment, before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away, the only thing keeping her upright the arms wrapped around hers as her body went limp.
Takes my pain
Takes my pain
Takes my pain
Takes my pain away
Draco cried out, moving closer to support her with his body as she fainted. "No, no, no," he chanted desperately, "God, no, come back, you have to wake up, I can't do this anymore..."
Morag made a small sound in the depth of her unconsciousness, something similar to what he had heard many times before in a very different situation, but aside from that and a small flutter of her eyelashes she didn't stir. Too long had she wanted to hear him say that he loved her that the shock in her weakened state combined with the emotional weight of it, knocked her back into a faint, despite her desire and protests that 'MacDougals do not faint.'
"No," Draco repeated, anguished, cupping her face in both hands. He tilted her head up to look at him, but he could barely see her through the recurring tears clouding his eyes. He rested his forehead against hers, shaking with fear and a whole bundle of emotions he didn't bother to name, and placed small kisses all over her face. "No--" kiss-- "no, come back--" kiss-- "please come back..."
Morag groaned softly and opened her eyes again, but before Draco could say anything, she closed them again and kissed him deeply, something that was full of something that was so long considered a weakness by the both of them, but in the end, it took away the pain.
Author: serpentqueen13
Rating: PG-13 for cursing
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: #29~Weakness
Word Count: 3,161
Summary: Morag is in a coma and even in the midst of the war, and even though he's not sure why, Draco still visits.
Warnings: Flangst, cursing, het
Notes: Also for hp_100songs Prompt #75~Jimmy Eat World~Pain. Also, many thanks to sappholococcus for her help with Draco.
I don't feel the way I've ever felt.
I know.
I'm gonna smile and not get worried.
I try but it shows.
Draco hadn't expected things to happen quite like this. He wasn't someone who got worried for people. He never cared. he was a Slytherin after all, and a Malfoy. Caring, emotion in general was weakness. That had been pounded into his head since he was a child. But, here he was, worried nonetheless, his shoes making odd squeaking noises against the tile of St. Mungo's fourth floor. He smiled at the nurse as he reached the room he wanted, even though it was patently false and didn't reach his eyes.
Anyone can make what I have built.
And better now
Anyone can find the same white pills.
It takes my pain away.
Draco was always cautious when he opened the door and entered the room, almost as if afraid the witch in the bed woould jump up and throw a hex or curse at him, and oddly enough, sometimes--half-hoping she would. Sometimes, rarely, there would be other people in the room, and he would carefully make some excuse and leave again. On days like this, however, when he could fit them into his busy and dangerous schedule and there was no one around, he would visit.
Well, not visit...that suggested that he actually cared, and he didn't, not really.
He came to see a...friend. Morag was his friend. And here she was, lying in some ridiculously narrow hospital bed, tubes and diagnostic patches all over her body as she lay in a coma, and he hoped...
Not hoped. Malfoys don't hope. He'd like it if whatever dreams she was having--if there were any dreams when one was in a catatonic state--were more pleasant than the war-torn reality outside the hospital walls.
He didn't know how long he sat there, silent, just watching the steady rise and fall of the woman's chest, before the nurse came in, pushing the medicine trolley. She smiled knowingly at him, which irritated Draco. The nurse knew nothing, how dare she think she even came close to understanding why he was there?
Hell, he didn't even understand it.
He watched through narrow eyes as the nurse parted Morag's lips and fed her three small white pills, and as always, shook back bitter laughter. As if a general curative could fix this, take the pain away, maybe, but not fix it.
It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)
Never mind these are hurried times.
Oh oh oh
I can't let it bother me.
Draco sat there for awhile, until the silence got to be too much, and then slowly began to tell the redhead who was so far beyond him he doubted his words even penetrated her mind about things that were happening--battles fought, stupid comments made by the goodie-goodies--things she would have laughed and snarked over with him before. Somehow, even though she never answered, it was better than the silence, because unlike the silence that had used to fall between them this was artificial and seemed so much more permanent.
Soon, though, even the words began to ring hollow, alone in the air without another voice to accompany them. He started hating how thin his voice sounded, and finally stopped talking at all. He stared at her mouth, as if willing her to speak simply by the weight of his eyes, and when that wasn't enough, he got up and moved closer.
"Damn it, Blood," he whispered, more frustrated with himself than with her. "Wake up."
A few seconds passed, and she didn't make a sound. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her hard, as if begging wordlessly for her mouth to open, but it didn't work. Draco stared at her for a second, then wiped his mouth and turned away, trying not to feel rejected.
I never thought I'd walk away from you.
I did.
But it's a false sense of accomplishment.
Every time I quit
He left. He always did, and for a few moments after disappearing from the hospital and returning to whatever safe house the beloved Order had given him at the moment, the relief of being able to pull away, the accomplishment that said yes, he was above it, he didn't care faded into a sense of withdrawl.
Maybe that was it. Morag was a drug, and he was addicted. All he had to do then, was stay away. Simple, right? He tried--he always tried, and he always failed. He would find himself reading some outdated tome in some moth eaten library and instead of the words memories would play across his mind. How they had met after Hogwarts, in a small Muggle cafe, codenames neither needed to identify each other that turned into--something more; him giving her a hit for the Death Eaters, and she talking about the uselessness of sides, then a quick interlude in the dirty, grimy bathroom.
Or he would be sitting eating dinner and recall how Voldemort wanted her to take the Mark and it was his job to turn her--and he did, but more than once, because he had taken her with him when he had joined the Order of the Phoenix in order to protect his own hide; and she had followed without question.
In Order meetings he'd recall how she'd sit beside him, whispering snarky comments about their lack of strategy in his ear while she could, or even the way she'd just sit there with her hand on his leg as if it belonged there before they disappeared to whatever Death Eater assignment they had.
Some addictions were more than physical, and he was angry for letting himself get so close, angry at her for getting cursed in battle, angry at her for leaving him alone in the limbo between the angels and demons who didn't see the shades of grey, but...he went back. He always did.
Anyone can see my every flaw.
It isn't hard.
Anyone can say they're above this all.
It takes my pain away.
The next time he visited, Granger was leaving the room and it set him on edge. She was here because she felt she should be, because it was the right thing to do. Everyone knew that Morag had about as much affection for Hermione Granger as he did for hippogriffs, if not less, and the two had gotten on precisely that well.
He came because...because he needed her, weakness as it might be, and he realised now that everyone could see that, and it soured his mood. People like his father could say that needing anyone was a weakness, that he should turn away now and not look back, but damn what they might say, it hurt without her, and while it hurt to be here, to see her like this, it took some of the pain away.
It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)
Never mind these are hurried times.
Oh oh oh
I can't let it bother me.
Draco sat there, in the hard, uncomfortable, chair with the rubber stoppers on it that made creaking noises when he shifted, and traced the Dark Mark on her skin, remembering how she had refused to cry out, and somehow managed to find him in the sea of black cloaks and white masks, hard like false skulls worn on the outside, her brown eyes boring into his silver ones.
Even now, sitting here with his hand on her skin, comforted by the warmth of life that somehow managed to pale to the usual heat of her body, the thoughts came unbidden. He had been nervous about asking her to join him in playing against the Death Eaters--afraid he might have to kill her, but she hadn't even missed a beat, and he had never quite understood how she could possibly follow without even asking a single question.
If only she could follow him into wakefulness, out of this horrid hospital, then none of that would even matter. He stood up as if to go, but found himself clinging to her arm as if it was she that was going to pull away, and moved closer to the bed instead of towards the door. If she was never going to wake up, he might as well know what it would feel like to actually hold her. Carefully, he wrapped both arms behind her shoulders and neck, and rested his head against her shoulder for a long moment before beginning to feel very, very stupid. He kissed her quickly and pulled away, touching his mouth as if he could enforce the feeling of her lips against his.
I can't let it bother me.
It takes my pain away
The final battle was like none of those old myths people talk about, or glorious victories of good triumphing over evil. It was rainy, wet, blood-soaked, long and violent. Some died not from wounds or curses but from sheer exhaustion, and at one point Draco just wanted to hit Harry and point out the three or four shots that he had passed up, shots the wonder boy didn't even see. Vaguely, Draco wondered how it was that he had lasted so long when he had such obvious holes in his guard, and then the thought of Morag popped into his mind again, pale and wan on a hospital bed, and he fought harder, if only to banish the image.
It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)
Never mind these are hurried times.
Oh oh oh
I can't let it bother me.
When he had all of his wounds treated and various salves and balms applied like the rest of the lucky saps who had survived what had been the final battle, he stood up and walked further down into the ward for hopeless cases. One nurse, someone new, moved to stop him but one of her co-workers stilled her and he didn't even notice.
He fell almost exhausted onto the chair, and felt tears prick at his eyelids when he saw that nothing had changed--Morag's brown eyes were still fixed unseeingly at the ceiling and the various spells were still keeping track of her vital signs, unchanged from the status quo. he hadn't expected her to be better just because the war was over, but...
But...he had wanted it so badly.
"Fuck you," he muttered, suddenly angry. "You skipped out on the whole fucking war."
She didn't respond, of course, and he yelled it again-- "Fuck you!"-- until it rang from the walls. He imagined her hearing it, wherever she was, and immediately felt bad about it. He got to his feet to apologise, reaching out to cover her ears.
"I didn't mean it," he whispered, wondering if he was going insane. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Come back."
And then he was crying, because he had just apologised, an event which had happened so few times in his life that he could count them on one hand, and why the hell couldn't he go and make it worse with tears?
"I'm sorry," he repeated, just for good measure, and leaned over to kiss her. "I'm sorry." Two hands, now, he thought wryly, and turned away.
Morag made a soft kitten-like mewl, more of a rush of escaped air than anything else as her hands tightened in the blanket and her eyes closed and then opened again, very slowly.
Draco froze halfway to the door. He wanted to look around, to believe that she'd really made the sound, but the way his luck had been going... no. It would hurt too much, it must be a noise he'd made without realising-- he was crying, after all-- but he couldn't make himself take another step, either.
"Blood?" he said finally, not even bothering to be embarrassed at the hoarse squeak his voice had turned into as he waited, trembling so hard he thought he might actually fall apart at the seams and barely even daring to breathe.
Morag's brain was hazy and her muscles seemed stiff and tired, even as she tried to move, managing to do little more than lick her lips with her dry tongue that felt like sandpaper and tasted worse. She tried to speak, but she couldn't quite manage it, making something that sounded more like a cough or a wheeze than anything else as she turned her head.
Draco inhaled sharply, more from surprise than from holding his breath, even though his lungs were burning. Finally, he clenched his fists and gathered up the courage to turn around, and nearly fainted with relief when he saw that she was awake. He found himself back at the side of her bed without really knowing how he'd gotten there, taking her face in both shaking hands and staring down at her in awe. "Oh my god," he was saying, over and over, because he seemed to have lost control over his faculties. "Oh my god, you're..."
Morag blinked and stared up at him, trying to understand the expression on his face. "Jus' me, Fire..." She managed, though her voice was hoarse and rusty from disuse. Really, not that she minded the way he was looking at her--she rather liked it, in fact, but it was confusing her.
"Missed you," Draco said fervently, and leaned in to kiss her, parting her lips with his tongue as if he could soothe away the roughness in her throat.
Okay..., Morag thought, still confused, but then he was kissing her, and that was so much more important, and she fought to move her arms as she pulled herself up enough to press against him slightly, kissing him back as much as she could, running her tongue lightly along his.
Draco realised vaguely that she was struggling to stay upright, and leaned into her so that she could use the bed for support. He could barely believe that she was awake, that she was kissing him back, and after he'd convinced himself of it he pulled back, breathing hard.
"Missed you," he repeated breathlessly, and wiped absently at his cheeks with the backs of his hands to hide his tears.
"Okay..." Morag managed after a minute when she had gotten her breath back. "'m no' dea', Fire...wha' are ye on about?" She sighed and tried to sit up to kiss him again. "No' tha' I'm complaining about the kisses."
"Thought you weren't coming back," Draco said hoarsely, and his eyes grew bright. He kissed her gently, lingeringly, as if she might go right back to her coma if he stopped touching her. "You were gone for so long... you missed the entire war, almost."
Morag blinked at that, and focused on the familiar kiss, because that was less confusing."Where'd I go?" She asked finally, biting down gently on his lip before pulling away. "What happened?"
"You got cursed," Draco told her, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of her teeth. "Cursed and... put in the hospital..."
"Hate hospitals." Morag muttered, falling back against the bed with a sigh, unable to hold herself up anymore. "Bloody weak, I am."
"But you're awake," Draco said, almost hesitantly. He leaned over the bed, grabbing hold of her hand to make sure she wasn't going to faint again. "That means you can get out of here. Finally."
"Yes, get out." Morag agreed, pulling herself up again and swinging her legs around the bed, even though her muscles protested. "Hate hospitals. Love you." She had been asleep so long that apparently her mind to mouth control wasn't what it used to be and her free hand flew to her mouth in shock, covering it as if it could shove the traitorous words back.
"Careful," Draco began, moving to help her, and froze with his arms outstretched. He literally could not move-- his arms had welded themselves in place, his feet were glued to the floor, even his eyes refused to blink. "You..." he managed, but his tongue was heavy. "What?"
"Unholy fuck..." Morag whined, turning scarlet and looking away. "I hate hospitals." She gritted out from behind clenched teeth. "Kill me, please."
That snapped Draco out of his trance. He took hold of her arms the way he'd been intending to in the first place, and took a deep breath. "No, you only just came back," he protested softly, ears still ringing with those two words. "I can't... that'd be even worse. Don't..." He wasn't making any sense at all. Did he love her? He couldn't tell, his emotions were all whirling beneath a suffocating relief and need, but he thought he very well might. "Iloveyoutoo?"
Morag's breath caught in her throat and she shook slightly for a moment, before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away, the only thing keeping her upright the arms wrapped around hers as her body went limp.
Takes my pain
Takes my pain
Takes my pain
Takes my pain away
Draco cried out, moving closer to support her with his body as she fainted. "No, no, no," he chanted desperately, "God, no, come back, you have to wake up, I can't do this anymore..."
Morag made a small sound in the depth of her unconsciousness, something similar to what he had heard many times before in a very different situation, but aside from that and a small flutter of her eyelashes she didn't stir. Too long had she wanted to hear him say that he loved her that the shock in her weakened state combined with the emotional weight of it, knocked her back into a faint, despite her desire and protests that 'MacDougals do not faint.'
"No," Draco repeated, anguished, cupping her face in both hands. He tilted her head up to look at him, but he could barely see her through the recurring tears clouding his eyes. He rested his forehead against hers, shaking with fear and a whole bundle of emotions he didn't bother to name, and placed small kisses all over her face. "No--" kiss-- "no, come back--" kiss-- "please come back..."
Morag groaned softly and opened her eyes again, but before Draco could say anything, she closed them again and kissed him deeply, something that was full of something that was so long considered a weakness by the both of them, but in the end, it took away the pain.