chemical_haven: To Desire and Expect Nothing (Draco, Hermione - R)
Title: To Desire and Expect Nothing
Author: Rynalin Onyx
Rating: R
Prompt Set: 100.2
Prompt: #2 - Desire
Word Count: 1,735
Summary: Draco can’t pretend anymore…
Warnings: Character death
Notes: All nouns belong to J.K., thanks to Nao, Dev and Jess for betaing, for 100quills - part 2/3, Title taken from Ivan Turgenev quote
Couple: Draco, Hermione
She hadn’t changed much in the last couple months since he’d seen her. Yes, she was a little thinner, but the light green v-neck shirt and black slacks still hugged her soft curves and hourglass shaped body she had developed over their years at Hogwarts; her hair was still untamable, but the curls still caught the dim light from the over head lights. The smile she had had seconds before faded as realization of who she had bumped into caught up to her.
“Malfoy?” her voice was low, almost conspiratorial and she almost dropped her drink.
“Granger,” he said coldly, he had to stay calm. Had to pretend nothing had changed - they were still school-time enemies, and a few months and a war where he had proved his loyalty the Order still wasn’t going to change that - or her opinion of him. He tried to keep breathing as he looked into her honeyed eyes, tried to keep his voice flat and composed instead of cracked and nervous. Nothing else could destroy his smooth demeanor like she could - except perhaps Potter, but that was different. That was anger, jealousy, not irrational desire.
“What are you doing here?” she almost snapped it at him - like he had meant to stumble across her.
“Probably exactly what you’re doing here Granger. Getting a drink,” he motioned to the glass in her hand and she scowled at him.
“Get on with it then!” she growled and stormed off to the other side of the bar. A flare of jealousy flared up in him when he wondered who she was here with. Ron? Harry? Both? He snarled under his breath and walked over to the bar.
The whiskey was strong and stung his throat as it went down. She was here. Behind him, somewhere in the smoke and loud chatter, sitting with her drink and her beautiful smile and her genius mind racing, probably wondering what he was doing here. He closed his eyes and willed for her to disappear - but even there she was, lurking on the back of his eyelids. He had come here to drown her out and yet it had only reestablished the insane, wildness she brought out in him. He tried, as discreetly as he could to hide the evidence of his desire under the bar.
Another soothing breath that did exactly the opposite and a few more shots of whiskey that instead of calming him and allowing him to forget about her, just increased his yearning to go over there - to talk to her, to tell her how he had felt about her for 7 long years. But then he would look over where she sat half-hidden in the shadows and watch her finger her glass and smile and laugh with people he luckily didn’t know, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.
He cursed himself, hated how much he had changed in the course of the war. Before, he would have loved to ruin her good time - to spite her for his own want and insecurities. But he wasn’t that person anymore. He was alone and a coward and he couldn’t face her. He took another shot and slid off his stool. “Buddy, you’re not okay to drive. Let me call you a cab,” the bartender said, seeing Draco stumble and grab hold of the bar.
“It’s okay, I’m not driving anyway,” Draco slurred and made his way to the door. He’d just Apparate home, pass out in his lovely waiting bed and hopefully the memory of the whole incident would be gone in the morning.
The night air was cool against his skin and stung his throat, much as the whiskey had. He didn’t even realize he was bracing himself on the brick wall until he felt the prick of skin being torn open and the sting as a small trickle of blood slid down his palm.
“You’re in no condition to get home.” Her voice was soft, but sharp and condescending.
He smirked and pivoted to look at her, still bracing himself against the wall of the bar. “Oh? And are you gonna stop me?”
She was glaring at him, and oh god how he had missed it. The flame in her eyes, the slight pout she got when she was frustrated. He longed to kiss those sweet lips, or just disappear before he said or did something to embarrass himself.
“Fine, Malfoy! Go ahead and splinch yourself! I was just trying to…” she cut herself off, apparently saying that she was going to be nice to a Malfoy, let alone him was just too unbearable.
“What Granger? Trying to be nice?” he smirked.
“I said go on Malfoy. If you don’t want my help, so be it!” she turned to go back inside, and took a few steps but he couldn’t help himself.
“Wait…” the word seemed choked out of him and he wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say it. He decided to blame the alcohol. He was relieved to see her stop walking but she didn’t turn back to face him or say anything. “Wait…” it was a whisper this time, a plea. He wished he could have said more - something that could have changed her mind about him. Something that would make her feel for him as he had felt for her, but nothing came to him and he was left gawking at her back, praying for her to turn around.
“You’re really in no condition to get home, Malfoy,” she said again, gentler this time and she turned around to look at him. He was glad he was already against the brick of the building because he was certain his knees would have given out under that gaze. She was breathtaking to him and he wanted nothing more than her at that moment. Physically, mentally, emotionally - he wanted it all. He wanted her.
“I can Apparate you somewhere if you want…” she said and he nodded. She took a step closer to him and it took everything he had not to back away. Then, almost before he had had time to register it she was next to him and grabbing his arm.
Her long, graceful fingers were warm around his forearm and sent shivers down his spine. He really hoped she hadn’t notice it - or that she would chalk it up to the slight breeze blowing through the alley. He had stopped breathing - and was just waiting, just staring - watching her as she readied herself to Apparate. Then, making sure she had a tight grip on his arm, she turned on the spot and the jerking, awkward feeling hit him for a few moments before he felt his feet hit solid pavement.
He felt like throwing up. Apparently, he decided as he tried desperately to stop the world from spinning so by clinging desperately to her arm - possibly the only time in his life he’d be allowed to - one should not Apparate when they are extremely drunk. And he was grateful that Hermione was there with him.
When he finally had his bearings and was able to look around he was surprised to find them just a few buildings away from the stone structure where his loft waited. It was a nice place, in an upscale muggle neighborhood. He had found it shortly after he had left the wizarding world and the drama that followed his family name. Luckily, he had still been entitled to his inheritance, enough to allow him a lavish lifestyle, but he had decided when he left he didn’t want that anymore - it turned good people into monsters. Power wasn’t good for him and he knew it.
He turned to Hermione and looked into her chocolate eyes and almost dared himself to ask her to come up. She probably would have laughed in his face!
“Well,” she said, quite awkwardly, “it looks like you got home okay.” He nodded and she slowly removed her fingers from his arm. He couldn’t make out the look in her eyes. He brought up his hand to run it through his hair - a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere, and she gasped. “Malfoy, you’re bleeding!” he almost thought there was concern in her voice, but instantly chastised himself and looked down at the hand that had been cut against the brick of the pub. It wasn’t deep or particularly bad but it was starting to sting a bit.
“I better go up and put something on it…” he muttered and, to his astonishment, a quirky sort-of smile spread over her cherry-blossom lips.
“Malfoy, you’re a wizard…” she giggled and a half-smile made its way wantonly to his lips as well.
“Oh, yeah, I guess I am…” he was about to pull out his wand with his good hand but she was already there, her wand pointed at his hand, her free hand holding onto him again. His blood started rushing. Her fingers were just the lightest touch keeping him still but he went rigid and stopped breathing in the few seconds it took her to cast the healing charm. He was dizzy when she pulled her hand away and restored her wand in her jacket pocket. Again, he tried to blame the feeling on the alcohol.
“Good night, Malfoy,” she whispered, and he noticed that she had clenched the hand she had just had on his - why?
“Good night Herm…” he winced and finished hastily, “Granger.” If she had noticed his slip she didn’t say anything and waited at the bottom of the steps until he had gotten into the building before she Apparated.
The curses he bit out were violent and chocked out between his sobs. He just couldn’t hold them in anymore. He had to let it out! He leaned against the door, banging the back of his head against the wood and dug his keys into the newly repaired flesh of his hand. Damn her!! Damn everything!! He sank down to the hardwood floor, unable to control the tears that came unbidden.
There, on the floor, against the door to the muggle loft building he wept. When they finally subsided he pulled himself to his feet and climbed the single flight of stairs to his door and entered.
That night he allowed himself one more thought of her - one more glance at the secret picture he kept of her. He allowed himself one last fleeting fantasy of happiness before filling his apartment with green light and the thump of a body on carpet.
Author: Rynalin Onyx
Rating: R
Prompt Set: 100.2
Prompt: #2 - Desire
Word Count: 1,735
Summary: Draco can’t pretend anymore…
Warnings: Character death
Notes: All nouns belong to J.K., thanks to Nao, Dev and Jess for betaing, for 100quills - part 2/3, Title taken from Ivan Turgenev quote
Couple: Draco, Hermione
She hadn’t changed much in the last couple months since he’d seen her. Yes, she was a little thinner, but the light green v-neck shirt and black slacks still hugged her soft curves and hourglass shaped body she had developed over their years at Hogwarts; her hair was still untamable, but the curls still caught the dim light from the over head lights. The smile she had had seconds before faded as realization of who she had bumped into caught up to her.
“Malfoy?” her voice was low, almost conspiratorial and she almost dropped her drink.
“Granger,” he said coldly, he had to stay calm. Had to pretend nothing had changed - they were still school-time enemies, and a few months and a war where he had proved his loyalty the Order still wasn’t going to change that - or her opinion of him. He tried to keep breathing as he looked into her honeyed eyes, tried to keep his voice flat and composed instead of cracked and nervous. Nothing else could destroy his smooth demeanor like she could - except perhaps Potter, but that was different. That was anger, jealousy, not irrational desire.
“What are you doing here?” she almost snapped it at him - like he had meant to stumble across her.
“Probably exactly what you’re doing here Granger. Getting a drink,” he motioned to the glass in her hand and she scowled at him.
“Get on with it then!” she growled and stormed off to the other side of the bar. A flare of jealousy flared up in him when he wondered who she was here with. Ron? Harry? Both? He snarled under his breath and walked over to the bar.
The whiskey was strong and stung his throat as it went down. She was here. Behind him, somewhere in the smoke and loud chatter, sitting with her drink and her beautiful smile and her genius mind racing, probably wondering what he was doing here. He closed his eyes and willed for her to disappear - but even there she was, lurking on the back of his eyelids. He had come here to drown her out and yet it had only reestablished the insane, wildness she brought out in him. He tried, as discreetly as he could to hide the evidence of his desire under the bar.
Another soothing breath that did exactly the opposite and a few more shots of whiskey that instead of calming him and allowing him to forget about her, just increased his yearning to go over there - to talk to her, to tell her how he had felt about her for 7 long years. But then he would look over where she sat half-hidden in the shadows and watch her finger her glass and smile and laugh with people he luckily didn’t know, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.
He cursed himself, hated how much he had changed in the course of the war. Before, he would have loved to ruin her good time - to spite her for his own want and insecurities. But he wasn’t that person anymore. He was alone and a coward and he couldn’t face her. He took another shot and slid off his stool. “Buddy, you’re not okay to drive. Let me call you a cab,” the bartender said, seeing Draco stumble and grab hold of the bar.
“It’s okay, I’m not driving anyway,” Draco slurred and made his way to the door. He’d just Apparate home, pass out in his lovely waiting bed and hopefully the memory of the whole incident would be gone in the morning.
The night air was cool against his skin and stung his throat, much as the whiskey had. He didn’t even realize he was bracing himself on the brick wall until he felt the prick of skin being torn open and the sting as a small trickle of blood slid down his palm.
“You’re in no condition to get home.” Her voice was soft, but sharp and condescending.
He smirked and pivoted to look at her, still bracing himself against the wall of the bar. “Oh? And are you gonna stop me?”
She was glaring at him, and oh god how he had missed it. The flame in her eyes, the slight pout she got when she was frustrated. He longed to kiss those sweet lips, or just disappear before he said or did something to embarrass himself.
“Fine, Malfoy! Go ahead and splinch yourself! I was just trying to…” she cut herself off, apparently saying that she was going to be nice to a Malfoy, let alone him was just too unbearable.
“What Granger? Trying to be nice?” he smirked.
“I said go on Malfoy. If you don’t want my help, so be it!” she turned to go back inside, and took a few steps but he couldn’t help himself.
“Wait…” the word seemed choked out of him and he wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say it. He decided to blame the alcohol. He was relieved to see her stop walking but she didn’t turn back to face him or say anything. “Wait…” it was a whisper this time, a plea. He wished he could have said more - something that could have changed her mind about him. Something that would make her feel for him as he had felt for her, but nothing came to him and he was left gawking at her back, praying for her to turn around.
“You’re really in no condition to get home, Malfoy,” she said again, gentler this time and she turned around to look at him. He was glad he was already against the brick of the building because he was certain his knees would have given out under that gaze. She was breathtaking to him and he wanted nothing more than her at that moment. Physically, mentally, emotionally - he wanted it all. He wanted her.
“I can Apparate you somewhere if you want…” she said and he nodded. She took a step closer to him and it took everything he had not to back away. Then, almost before he had had time to register it she was next to him and grabbing his arm.
Her long, graceful fingers were warm around his forearm and sent shivers down his spine. He really hoped she hadn’t notice it - or that she would chalk it up to the slight breeze blowing through the alley. He had stopped breathing - and was just waiting, just staring - watching her as she readied herself to Apparate. Then, making sure she had a tight grip on his arm, she turned on the spot and the jerking, awkward feeling hit him for a few moments before he felt his feet hit solid pavement.
He felt like throwing up. Apparently, he decided as he tried desperately to stop the world from spinning so by clinging desperately to her arm - possibly the only time in his life he’d be allowed to - one should not Apparate when they are extremely drunk. And he was grateful that Hermione was there with him.
When he finally had his bearings and was able to look around he was surprised to find them just a few buildings away from the stone structure where his loft waited. It was a nice place, in an upscale muggle neighborhood. He had found it shortly after he had left the wizarding world and the drama that followed his family name. Luckily, he had still been entitled to his inheritance, enough to allow him a lavish lifestyle, but he had decided when he left he didn’t want that anymore - it turned good people into monsters. Power wasn’t good for him and he knew it.
He turned to Hermione and looked into her chocolate eyes and almost dared himself to ask her to come up. She probably would have laughed in his face!
“Well,” she said, quite awkwardly, “it looks like you got home okay.” He nodded and she slowly removed her fingers from his arm. He couldn’t make out the look in her eyes. He brought up his hand to run it through his hair - a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere, and she gasped. “Malfoy, you’re bleeding!” he almost thought there was concern in her voice, but instantly chastised himself and looked down at the hand that had been cut against the brick of the pub. It wasn’t deep or particularly bad but it was starting to sting a bit.
“I better go up and put something on it…” he muttered and, to his astonishment, a quirky sort-of smile spread over her cherry-blossom lips.
“Malfoy, you’re a wizard…” she giggled and a half-smile made its way wantonly to his lips as well.
“Oh, yeah, I guess I am…” he was about to pull out his wand with his good hand but she was already there, her wand pointed at his hand, her free hand holding onto him again. His blood started rushing. Her fingers were just the lightest touch keeping him still but he went rigid and stopped breathing in the few seconds it took her to cast the healing charm. He was dizzy when she pulled her hand away and restored her wand in her jacket pocket. Again, he tried to blame the feeling on the alcohol.
“Good night, Malfoy,” she whispered, and he noticed that she had clenched the hand she had just had on his - why?
“Good night Herm…” he winced and finished hastily, “Granger.” If she had noticed his slip she didn’t say anything and waited at the bottom of the steps until he had gotten into the building before she Apparated.
The curses he bit out were violent and chocked out between his sobs. He just couldn’t hold them in anymore. He had to let it out! He leaned against the door, banging the back of his head against the wood and dug his keys into the newly repaired flesh of his hand. Damn her!! Damn everything!! He sank down to the hardwood floor, unable to control the tears that came unbidden.
There, on the floor, against the door to the muggle loft building he wept. When they finally subsided he pulled himself to his feet and climbed the single flight of stairs to his door and entered.
That night he allowed himself one more thought of her - one more glance at the secret picture he kept of her. He allowed himself one last fleeting fantasy of happiness before filling his apartment with green light and the thump of a body on carpet.