Fran's Story Archive - Return
I have just been looking through a folder of stories on my computer and I came across this one. I think it was written back in February 2002 and posted on the Guns and Handcuffs thread on FictionAlley Park for Valentine's Day. I'm also pretty sure it's not been posted anywhere else, but I could be wrong.
What follows can be considered a Resolution Futurefic.
Well, here’s my contribution to the Valentine ficlets. Written after trying Smirnoff Ice for the first time -- not a good idea considering I don’t normally drink! Now I’m off to try a Cranberry Bacardi Breezer!
Fran
----------------------
Return
He was tired. He was hungry. And he was sure he reeked.
Of course, it didn’t help that he had been wearing the same clothes for three days now. The swift exodus from the hotel in Brighton meant that all his belongings had been left behind. Including, of course, what little Muggle money he had left. Still, he had found his target, so in the end it had all been worth it.
At least, that was Hermione Granger’s view of things. But she wasn’t the one sitting in a Muggle car driving down the M27 with the rain beating down so hard he could hardly see the road, let along the other cars. He pulled out from behind a very large articulated lorry and accelerated the car past it, narrowly avoiding a fast-approaching van that must have been doing at least 95.
He hated Muggles. Hated Muggle cars. Hated living as one. And, at the moment, hated his job. Job? Was that what it was called? Others called what he did a ‘vocation’. Hunting down the remnants of Voldemort’s defeated army hardly constituted ‘vocation’ in his books. But Voldemort’s followers had chosen to hide amongst the very people they detested and someone had to help round them up before they created any more havoc.
Through the gloom, he saw the sign marking his junction and pulled off the motorway into Port Solent. Immediately the traffic slowed, 30 miles an hour seeming like he was stationary. On either side of the road, pedestrians hurried along, umbrellas shielding them from the rain. He was surprised for a moment by the number of couples and then remembered it was Valentine’s Day.
Valentine’s Day and he was on his own. Harry was off somewhere in the world…Australia, Outer Mongolia, Croydon... He didn’t know where and Hermione had declined to tell him. It wasn’t safe she had said. It would blow both their operations. It would make him worry.
Well, he reminded her, he would worry even more not knowing, but the Chief of Operations was quite adamant. One knowing where the other was would compromise both her key operatives.
The traffic lights ahead turned red, and Draco slowed the car to a halt. Numerous restaurants lined either side of the street and through the rain-splattered windows; he could make out couples leaning across the tables. Holding hands, kissing. Everywhere couples.
Life could be a real bitch sometimes.
The car park was full as usual and it took him ages to find a spot. It happened to be at a point furthest from the block of flats and he climbed from the car into the miserable weather and plodded dejectedly across the deserted tarmac. It felt like he was the only person in the whole universe.
At least, he considered, the rain might wash away some of the smell.
The flat was in cold darkness when he opened the door. Living near a harbour had its plus points, but on a cold wet February day he would much rather be some place else where the salt spray didn’t pound against the windows, destroying all the plants on the balcony window boxes and covering everything with a slick coating that tasted like sweat on the lips.
Lights flickered on and he kicked his shoes off on the way to the kitchen. What he wanted most now was a cup of tea. Hardly the most glamorous of drinks, but then he wasn’t feeling much like an international supersleuth at the moment. He opened the fridge and looked at the pitiful contents. It had been a week since either Harry or himself had been home, and the fridge bore testament to that fact. There were some rather sad-looking salad items in the drawer at the bottom and a lump of what he assumed was cheese, though it had most definitely seen better days. As for the milk... One sniff of it made him realise maybe he didn’t smell so bad after all.
“No tea then, Malfoy.” He muttered and reached, instead for the bottle of Smirnoff Ice. At least that couldn’t have gone off. Clicking off the cap, he didn’t even bother to get a glass, drinking down half the bottle in one go.
He turned on more lights as he made his way around the flat, hoping they might cheer the place up. It didn’t work. In fact, it made it worse because everywhere the light touched were reminders of the person missing that night. Even the carelessly dropped shirt, which he would have berated Harry for leaving on the floor, filled him with sadness.
This wasn’t the life he had expected them to share when he had turned away from his family and all that he had been brought up to believe. He had thought they would be together most of the time, but in the last three months they had been lucky to have as many days to themselves. Ships that passed in the night, someone had once said. Well, this was one ship he wanted to get off. Why the hell couldn’t they be on the same ship instead of always being on different ones?
He put the now empty bottle down and finally stripped off his wet jacket and started on the buttons of his shirt as he crossed to the bathroom. At least he could have a shower and feel clear again.
Opening the door, Draco came to an abrupt halt on the threshold, momentarily stunned, convinced he must be in the middle of some sort of magical illusion.
The bathroom, with its huge sunken bath (the one real sign of luxury he had been determined to build into the otherwise tiny Muggle flat), was full of candles. They stood on the shelves, around the edge of the bath, floated above his head. And drifting lazily amongst them were bubbles. Large glistening red bubbles that didn’t burst when they touched the floor, but would bounce upwards towards the ceiling. They collided with each other, sometimes merging to form larger bubbles, or even splitting into smaller, pink spheres.
Draco stepped further into the room, his tired mind almost unable to take in what was happening. It was, he decided, almost like a fairytale. He reached out a hand and let a bubble settle onto his palm. It sat there for a moment and then burst softly, the touch almost like a kiss.
So like a kiss that he thought he felt the same sensation on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, knowing the touch, but not believing he could really be feeling it. A hand, not his own, slipped across his chest, and he could feel the warmth of another body pressed against his back.
“Hello, Draco.” He felt the words vibrate against his spine.
He didn’t want to turn around in case it was all a dream, but finally he did, straight into the arms of his lover. “Harry.” The hitch in his voice was audible and he grabbed at the person, pulling the slim naked body into his arm. “What are you doing here? I thought...” Oh, god, he thought, I’m going to cry, stupid arse.
Harry’s mouth gently touched the others lips. “I told you I would get home if I could.” The kiss deepened, “I didn’t want to say anything just in case...” His fingers tangled in the blond hair, turning Draco’s head slightly. “I have so missed you.”
Draco tried to think of a suitable response, but there was none. The Master of the Quick Retort was lost for words. Instead he allowed Harry to take charge, let him take the lead and take some of the pain from his tired body.
After what seemed a lifetime, Harry finally pulled back and looked at the tear-stained face before him. He took the beloved face in his hands and looked deep into the grey eyes. “Do you know something?”
“What?”
“You whiff something chronic.”
“So would you if you had to sleep in a field.”
“True,” Harry shrugged against the other’s chest as he snaked his arms around the to the slim back. “Then I guess there is only one things for it.” Pulling Draco off balance, Harry swung them both round. They toppled backwards straight into the huge sunken bath. Water shot around them, cascading onto the floor and dosing several candle in the process.
Finally coming up for air, Draco floundered under Harry’s body, gasping for air. “I hope,” he finally managed to talk, “you don’t expect me to clean that up.”
Harry reached out a hand and began to remove Draco’s wet clothes. “It’s Valentine. Let’s worry about the wet floor in the morning...”
-----------------------------
14th February 2002
What follows can be considered a Resolution Futurefic.
Well, here’s my contribution to the Valentine ficlets. Written after trying Smirnoff Ice for the first time -- not a good idea considering I don’t normally drink! Now I’m off to try a Cranberry Bacardi Breezer!
Fran
----------------------
Return
He was tired. He was hungry. And he was sure he reeked.
Of course, it didn’t help that he had been wearing the same clothes for three days now. The swift exodus from the hotel in Brighton meant that all his belongings had been left behind. Including, of course, what little Muggle money he had left. Still, he had found his target, so in the end it had all been worth it.
At least, that was Hermione Granger’s view of things. But she wasn’t the one sitting in a Muggle car driving down the M27 with the rain beating down so hard he could hardly see the road, let along the other cars. He pulled out from behind a very large articulated lorry and accelerated the car past it, narrowly avoiding a fast-approaching van that must have been doing at least 95.
He hated Muggles. Hated Muggle cars. Hated living as one. And, at the moment, hated his job. Job? Was that what it was called? Others called what he did a ‘vocation’. Hunting down the remnants of Voldemort’s defeated army hardly constituted ‘vocation’ in his books. But Voldemort’s followers had chosen to hide amongst the very people they detested and someone had to help round them up before they created any more havoc.
Through the gloom, he saw the sign marking his junction and pulled off the motorway into Port Solent. Immediately the traffic slowed, 30 miles an hour seeming like he was stationary. On either side of the road, pedestrians hurried along, umbrellas shielding them from the rain. He was surprised for a moment by the number of couples and then remembered it was Valentine’s Day.
Valentine’s Day and he was on his own. Harry was off somewhere in the world…Australia, Outer Mongolia, Croydon... He didn’t know where and Hermione had declined to tell him. It wasn’t safe she had said. It would blow both their operations. It would make him worry.
Well, he reminded her, he would worry even more not knowing, but the Chief of Operations was quite adamant. One knowing where the other was would compromise both her key operatives.
The traffic lights ahead turned red, and Draco slowed the car to a halt. Numerous restaurants lined either side of the street and through the rain-splattered windows; he could make out couples leaning across the tables. Holding hands, kissing. Everywhere couples.
Life could be a real bitch sometimes.
The car park was full as usual and it took him ages to find a spot. It happened to be at a point furthest from the block of flats and he climbed from the car into the miserable weather and plodded dejectedly across the deserted tarmac. It felt like he was the only person in the whole universe.
At least, he considered, the rain might wash away some of the smell.
The flat was in cold darkness when he opened the door. Living near a harbour had its plus points, but on a cold wet February day he would much rather be some place else where the salt spray didn’t pound against the windows, destroying all the plants on the balcony window boxes and covering everything with a slick coating that tasted like sweat on the lips.
Lights flickered on and he kicked his shoes off on the way to the kitchen. What he wanted most now was a cup of tea. Hardly the most glamorous of drinks, but then he wasn’t feeling much like an international supersleuth at the moment. He opened the fridge and looked at the pitiful contents. It had been a week since either Harry or himself had been home, and the fridge bore testament to that fact. There were some rather sad-looking salad items in the drawer at the bottom and a lump of what he assumed was cheese, though it had most definitely seen better days. As for the milk... One sniff of it made him realise maybe he didn’t smell so bad after all.
“No tea then, Malfoy.” He muttered and reached, instead for the bottle of Smirnoff Ice. At least that couldn’t have gone off. Clicking off the cap, he didn’t even bother to get a glass, drinking down half the bottle in one go.
He turned on more lights as he made his way around the flat, hoping they might cheer the place up. It didn’t work. In fact, it made it worse because everywhere the light touched were reminders of the person missing that night. Even the carelessly dropped shirt, which he would have berated Harry for leaving on the floor, filled him with sadness.
This wasn’t the life he had expected them to share when he had turned away from his family and all that he had been brought up to believe. He had thought they would be together most of the time, but in the last three months they had been lucky to have as many days to themselves. Ships that passed in the night, someone had once said. Well, this was one ship he wanted to get off. Why the hell couldn’t they be on the same ship instead of always being on different ones?
He put the now empty bottle down and finally stripped off his wet jacket and started on the buttons of his shirt as he crossed to the bathroom. At least he could have a shower and feel clear again.
Opening the door, Draco came to an abrupt halt on the threshold, momentarily stunned, convinced he must be in the middle of some sort of magical illusion.
The bathroom, with its huge sunken bath (the one real sign of luxury he had been determined to build into the otherwise tiny Muggle flat), was full of candles. They stood on the shelves, around the edge of the bath, floated above his head. And drifting lazily amongst them were bubbles. Large glistening red bubbles that didn’t burst when they touched the floor, but would bounce upwards towards the ceiling. They collided with each other, sometimes merging to form larger bubbles, or even splitting into smaller, pink spheres.
Draco stepped further into the room, his tired mind almost unable to take in what was happening. It was, he decided, almost like a fairytale. He reached out a hand and let a bubble settle onto his palm. It sat there for a moment and then burst softly, the touch almost like a kiss.
So like a kiss that he thought he felt the same sensation on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, knowing the touch, but not believing he could really be feeling it. A hand, not his own, slipped across his chest, and he could feel the warmth of another body pressed against his back.
“Hello, Draco.” He felt the words vibrate against his spine.
He didn’t want to turn around in case it was all a dream, but finally he did, straight into the arms of his lover. “Harry.” The hitch in his voice was audible and he grabbed at the person, pulling the slim naked body into his arm. “What are you doing here? I thought...” Oh, god, he thought, I’m going to cry, stupid arse.
Harry’s mouth gently touched the others lips. “I told you I would get home if I could.” The kiss deepened, “I didn’t want to say anything just in case...” His fingers tangled in the blond hair, turning Draco’s head slightly. “I have so missed you.”
Draco tried to think of a suitable response, but there was none. The Master of the Quick Retort was lost for words. Instead he allowed Harry to take charge, let him take the lead and take some of the pain from his tired body.
After what seemed a lifetime, Harry finally pulled back and looked at the tear-stained face before him. He took the beloved face in his hands and looked deep into the grey eyes. “Do you know something?”
“What?”
“You whiff something chronic.”
“So would you if you had to sleep in a field.”
“True,” Harry shrugged against the other’s chest as he snaked his arms around the to the slim back. “Then I guess there is only one things for it.” Pulling Draco off balance, Harry swung them both round. They toppled backwards straight into the huge sunken bath. Water shot around them, cascading onto the floor and dosing several candle in the process.
Finally coming up for air, Draco floundered under Harry’s body, gasping for air. “I hope,” he finally managed to talk, “you don’t expect me to clean that up.”
Harry reached out a hand and began to remove Draco’s wet clothes. “It’s Valentine. Let’s worry about the wet floor in the morning...”
-----------------------------
14th February 2002