Fic: Going Nowhere Fast (1/16)
Title: Going Nowhere Fast
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG so far
Pairing(s): Theodore/Draco overall. This chapter, Theo/Tracey, Draco/Pansy, and Blaise/Daphne.
Warning(s): None
Summary: Growing up changes you. War changes everything.
A/N: I so do not have time for a multichap right now, but who am I to resist my muse?
Chapter 1: Year 4
“-and I asked Pansy, of course, so that’s all settled,” Draco says, and casts a faintly calculating glance in the direction of the corner bed- more specifically, at the silent figure curled up at the head of it. “What about you, Theo?”
“What about me?” he responds distractedly, not looking up from the book he’s bent over. Draco rolls his eyes, secure in the knowledge that even if Theo were to see, he wouldn’t care. “Yule Ball. Got a date yet?”
At that, Theo finally does look up, not that it makes a great deal of difference; his eyes are always carefully, perfectly guarded. “I’m not going.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Blaise drawls, but both ignore him.
“What do you mean, you’re not going?”
Theo returns his attention to his book. “Which word was too large for you, Draco?”
Sometimes, Draco really sort of hates that boy.
“It was practically a rhetorical question,” Draco says, pointedly ignoring the jibe. “Davis will be heartbroken if you don’t ask her. She’ll pine. She will throw herself off the Astronomy Tower in despair for want of your affections and your manly charms-“ Draco pauses, eyeing Theo. “Well, all right, not so much the manly charms.” He turns to Blaise. “Do you suppose Davis is secretly a lesbian, Blaise?”
Blaise gives Draco a look of tolerant amusement and stretches, settling back on his bed. “She does spend quite a lot of time with Daphne.”
“Aren’t you going with Daphne?”
Blaise smiles sharply. “Yes.”
“Tracey,” Theo interrupts, “is hardly about to make a Shakespearean tragedy out of a Yule Ball.”
“No, Shakespearean tragedies are your modus operandi,” Blaise puts in, and Theo shoots him a mild look that suggests he would probably hex him if he actually considered it worth the effort.
“Wasting romantic heroine,” Draco says. “However. My point holds. And all the time you spend around her, it’s a wonder you haven’t yet announced your engagement. She wants you to ask her. Blaise, doesn’t she?”
Blaise gives an elegant shrug; he is looking at Theo contemplatively. “Likely. But Theo doesn’t want to go with her.”
Theo arches a brow. “Whatever tipped you off?” he asks dryly. “Surely not my saying that I had no intention of going?”
Blaise’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
Draco gives a louder-than-necessary exasperated sigh to draw the attention back to him. It makes him sound rather like he has some sort of terrible lung condition, but Theo decides against voicing that opinion. “For a Slytherin, you have no proper sense of appearances, Theo.”
“I know.”
“So he finally asked you, huh? Told you he would.”
Tracey glances over her shoulder in the mirror at Daphne, who is sitting cross-legged in the centre of the bed behind her, bouncing slightly. “It isn’t like that,” Tracey answers, still carefully unraveling her braid. “Theo’s like a brother to me.”
“You hate your brother.”
“A brother I actually like.”
“I hate to break it to you, Trace, but most people don’t snog their brothers.”
Tracey’s eyes narrow slightly. “I’m not snogging him,” she says, a bit frostily.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
There is a lengthy pause. “...Seriously?”
“Yes, Daphne. I am not, nor have I ever been, snogging Theodore Nott.”
“Huh.” It seems to take Daphne a moment to process this information. “Why not?”
“Because I... he’s never given me any reason to think that he wants to.”
Daphne looks at Tracey as if she is speaking Chinese, and takes a deep breath. “Tracey,” she says, in the too-patient tones of one explaining something to a small child, “Theo is probably the most antisocial person in existence, but he spends half his time with you. He hates being touched, but he cuddles you and lets you pet his hair and kisses your cheek and, I don’t know how much more obvious I can make this, he sleeps in your bed.”
“Only sometimes,” Tracey protests, “it’s all the pillows, it’s comfortable.”
Daphne’s eyebrows seem ready to disappear into her hairline, they’re raised so high. “Is that what he told you?”
“He never told me anything.”
Daphne makes a strangled sound somewhere between disbelief and a cry of despair. “You’re unbelievable,” she says, “and if you don’t kiss him when he takes you to the Yule Ball, I am going to have to... disown you as a friend, or something. Merlin’s lacy knickers, Trace, you two are ridiculous. This is ridiculous. Your bizarre platonic dating thing is ridiculous.”
“So’s your face, Daphne.”
Daphne sticks out her tongue.
Tracey catches Theo’s hand in hers as they walk out toward the lake, the music fading behind them, and he looks over at her. “I wanted to tell you,” he murmurs, “you look particularly beautiful tonight.”
Tracey can feel her cheeks heat at the quiet compliment, and hopes he doesn’t notice in the pale starlight, or dismisses it as the cold. She knows neither is likely. “Thank you. I... you look good too.” She drops her gaze. “Blue suits you.”
Theo smiles, very slightly, and laces his fingers with hers. They walk in silence for a few minutes more until they come to the edge of the lake; Tracey spares a glance for the ice-glazed water, then looks up at him. In the darkness, his skin is eerily pale, almost luminescent, and his hair and eyes look inky black. Unearthly.
“Theo,” she says hesitantly, voice quavering slightly, “Theo, I...”
“Shh,” he whispers, and they both lean toward one another in the same instant. Their lips are cold from the winter wind, and Tracey’s are slick with lipgloss.
It tastes of cherries, and the kiss is soft and easy and pleasant and absolutely, completely wrong.
In that moment he knows he’s going to have to hurt her, and he never, ever wanted that.
“You got back late last night,” Draco drawls. “I would have expected Blaise to, but you and...”
“I wasn’t with Tracey,” Theo answers, a bit sharply.
“Scandalous,” Draco says gleefully. “Then who-” He falls silent at the look Theo gives him. Draco may like pushing people, but he isn’t stupid.
“No one,” Theo says, in a frayed sort of tone that sounds like he is either very close to breaking someone’s neck or very close to collapsing in tears. “I was alone.”
Draco doesn’t ask any more questions, and Theo leaves the dorm without another word.
Next
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG so far
Pairing(s): Theodore/Draco overall. This chapter, Theo/Tracey, Draco/Pansy, and Blaise/Daphne.
Warning(s): None
Summary: Growing up changes you. War changes everything.
A/N: I so do not have time for a multichap right now, but who am I to resist my muse?
Chapter 1: Year 4
“-and I asked Pansy, of course, so that’s all settled,” Draco says, and casts a faintly calculating glance in the direction of the corner bed- more specifically, at the silent figure curled up at the head of it. “What about you, Theo?”
“What about me?” he responds distractedly, not looking up from the book he’s bent over. Draco rolls his eyes, secure in the knowledge that even if Theo were to see, he wouldn’t care. “Yule Ball. Got a date yet?”
At that, Theo finally does look up, not that it makes a great deal of difference; his eyes are always carefully, perfectly guarded. “I’m not going.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Blaise drawls, but both ignore him.
“What do you mean, you’re not going?”
Theo returns his attention to his book. “Which word was too large for you, Draco?”
Sometimes, Draco really sort of hates that boy.
“It was practically a rhetorical question,” Draco says, pointedly ignoring the jibe. “Davis will be heartbroken if you don’t ask her. She’ll pine. She will throw herself off the Astronomy Tower in despair for want of your affections and your manly charms-“ Draco pauses, eyeing Theo. “Well, all right, not so much the manly charms.” He turns to Blaise. “Do you suppose Davis is secretly a lesbian, Blaise?”
Blaise gives Draco a look of tolerant amusement and stretches, settling back on his bed. “She does spend quite a lot of time with Daphne.”
“Aren’t you going with Daphne?”
Blaise smiles sharply. “Yes.”
“Tracey,” Theo interrupts, “is hardly about to make a Shakespearean tragedy out of a Yule Ball.”
“No, Shakespearean tragedies are your modus operandi,” Blaise puts in, and Theo shoots him a mild look that suggests he would probably hex him if he actually considered it worth the effort.
“Wasting romantic heroine,” Draco says. “However. My point holds. And all the time you spend around her, it’s a wonder you haven’t yet announced your engagement. She wants you to ask her. Blaise, doesn’t she?”
Blaise gives an elegant shrug; he is looking at Theo contemplatively. “Likely. But Theo doesn’t want to go with her.”
Theo arches a brow. “Whatever tipped you off?” he asks dryly. “Surely not my saying that I had no intention of going?”
Blaise’s expression doesn’t change. “No.”
Draco gives a louder-than-necessary exasperated sigh to draw the attention back to him. It makes him sound rather like he has some sort of terrible lung condition, but Theo decides against voicing that opinion. “For a Slytherin, you have no proper sense of appearances, Theo.”
“I know.”
“So he finally asked you, huh? Told you he would.”
Tracey glances over her shoulder in the mirror at Daphne, who is sitting cross-legged in the centre of the bed behind her, bouncing slightly. “It isn’t like that,” Tracey answers, still carefully unraveling her braid. “Theo’s like a brother to me.”
“You hate your brother.”
“A brother I actually like.”
“I hate to break it to you, Trace, but most people don’t snog their brothers.”
Tracey’s eyes narrow slightly. “I’m not snogging him,” she says, a bit frostily.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
There is a lengthy pause. “...Seriously?”
“Yes, Daphne. I am not, nor have I ever been, snogging Theodore Nott.”
“Huh.” It seems to take Daphne a moment to process this information. “Why not?”
“Because I... he’s never given me any reason to think that he wants to.”
Daphne looks at Tracey as if she is speaking Chinese, and takes a deep breath. “Tracey,” she says, in the too-patient tones of one explaining something to a small child, “Theo is probably the most antisocial person in existence, but he spends half his time with you. He hates being touched, but he cuddles you and lets you pet his hair and kisses your cheek and, I don’t know how much more obvious I can make this, he sleeps in your bed.”
“Only sometimes,” Tracey protests, “it’s all the pillows, it’s comfortable.”
Daphne’s eyebrows seem ready to disappear into her hairline, they’re raised so high. “Is that what he told you?”
“He never told me anything.”
Daphne makes a strangled sound somewhere between disbelief and a cry of despair. “You’re unbelievable,” she says, “and if you don’t kiss him when he takes you to the Yule Ball, I am going to have to... disown you as a friend, or something. Merlin’s lacy knickers, Trace, you two are ridiculous. This is ridiculous. Your bizarre platonic dating thing is ridiculous.”
“So’s your face, Daphne.”
Daphne sticks out her tongue.
Tracey catches Theo’s hand in hers as they walk out toward the lake, the music fading behind them, and he looks over at her. “I wanted to tell you,” he murmurs, “you look particularly beautiful tonight.”
Tracey can feel her cheeks heat at the quiet compliment, and hopes he doesn’t notice in the pale starlight, or dismisses it as the cold. She knows neither is likely. “Thank you. I... you look good too.” She drops her gaze. “Blue suits you.”
Theo smiles, very slightly, and laces his fingers with hers. They walk in silence for a few minutes more until they come to the edge of the lake; Tracey spares a glance for the ice-glazed water, then looks up at him. In the darkness, his skin is eerily pale, almost luminescent, and his hair and eyes look inky black. Unearthly.
“Theo,” she says hesitantly, voice quavering slightly, “Theo, I...”
“Shh,” he whispers, and they both lean toward one another in the same instant. Their lips are cold from the winter wind, and Tracey’s are slick with lipgloss.
It tastes of cherries, and the kiss is soft and easy and pleasant and absolutely, completely wrong.
In that moment he knows he’s going to have to hurt her, and he never, ever wanted that.
“You got back late last night,” Draco drawls. “I would have expected Blaise to, but you and...”
“I wasn’t with Tracey,” Theo answers, a bit sharply.
“Scandalous,” Draco says gleefully. “Then who-” He falls silent at the look Theo gives him. Draco may like pushing people, but he isn’t stupid.
“No one,” Theo says, in a frayed sort of tone that sounds like he is either very close to breaking someone’s neck or very close to collapsing in tears. “I was alone.”
Draco doesn’t ask any more questions, and Theo leaves the dorm without another word.
Next