Fic: DM Series: Somebody
Title: Somebody
Pairing: HP/DM, with a dash of HP/OOC
Ratings: PG-13
Word count: ~ 4,000
Beta:
aquila_star, with some backup help from
fidelius28
Warnings: Stoner!Draco, foul mouths, and minor abuse of capital letters
A/N at the end. Written by request for
13_moons. Did a wee bit of cross-posting. : )
Draco Malfoy climbed onto the roof of his flat after dinner and settled into his favorite corner overlooking the city. The late Spring sun had been strong and the heat still radiated off the tiles, giving him goose bumps as it mingled with the night cooled air above. He took a long drag off of a fat joint before tilting his chin up and exhaling slowly, reveling in the calm that settled into his bones. He was still a bit disconcerted at the fact that his supply of weed came from Neville Longbottom, but Draco had to give him credit, the man sure had a way with plants. Apparently a crappy teacher’s salary was a crappy teacher’s salary, be you Muggle or Wizard, and Neville had found a nice way to make some extra income. Draco had taken up smoking as a nightly habit almost two months ago, hoping it would help him forget. Instead, he noted with irony, it managed to bring all his problems into focus. Still, it was a good kind of clarity, the kind that allowed him to sit back and study his little problem with an almost detached point of view.
He'd breakfasted with Remus again that morning, as he had done nearly every Saturday since the war ended. Draco had been surprised to find that he had an easy rapport with the werewolf, and he looked forward to their weekly meetings. Their conversations ranged from politics to magical theory, Quidditch to cooking. And Harry. Remus always made him talk about Harry.
Draco saw Harry around Diagon Alley every once in a while, but other than gracing Harry with a tight smile the blonde did not make an effort to talk to him. He did, however, grasp onto these chance meetings like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out that Harry had a bit of a routine. While Draco was determined to stalk him, he didn’t want it to look like he was stalking him. So he mixed things up a bit, bumping into Harry at the grocery every other Tuesday, watching Harry from the shadows as he grabbed a Chai in the morning, ‘accidentally’ running into Harry as he popped into the Weasley’s joke shop every Friday afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Subtlety, thy name is Draco,” Remus chided him fondly.
“Cluelessness, thy name is Harry,” Draco pointed out with a mock-serious nod. “Besides, I need groceries too. Not my fault he chose the same night as me to shop.”
Draco took a bite of his egg and poked his fork in Remus’ direction.
“Maybe Harry is following me.”
Remus laughed, and added a bit more cream to his tea. “Yes, because you don’t have all the time in the world to get your groceries,” Remus said sarcastically. “Poor Draco, how do you manage to find any time for yourself?”
Draco flipped him two fingers and continued to dig into his eggs. “Not my fault I’m independently wealthy. It is a burden, you know.”
Remus rolled his eyes as Draco gave a long suffering sigh. They continued their meal in silence, and Draco hoped that Remus would let the subject of Harry drop, for once.
“You really should just talk to him, Draco. He’ll understand, trust me.”
No such luck then. “He thinks I hate him.”
“Because you act like you hate him! Just … be normal, for Merlin’s sake, would you? Strike up a conversation over the melons …”
Draco raised an eyebrow and gave him a dubious smirk. Remus corrected himself with an exasperated snort. “Fine, wanker, over the bananas then …”
Draco’s laugh fell into a sigh. “You know that I can’t.”
“No, you just say you can’t,” Remus countered sternly. “You’re just too content to fritter your life away pining over what might have been had you not been such an arse, and now you’re too much of a coward to try and fix it.”
Draco glowered at Remus but didn’t refute him. The blonde leaned back in his chair and gazed broodingly out the window. His eyes flicked immediately to a head of thick dark hair, where he saw Harry peering in the window at the pastries. His elation left him like a punch to the gut when he saw Harry turn to a sandy haired bloke and smile. The other man smiled back, and Draco recognized him as Thomas Clarke, a Ravenclaw five years their senior and an Unspeakable at the Ministry. He watched Thomas place a hand possessively on the small of Harry’s back and steer him into the shop. Remus followed Draco’s gaze, and they both watched as the two men picked out their pastries, sharing glances that ended in shy smiles, hands brushing against each other, until they left, huddled close together, oblivious to the world around them.
“Easy, my friend,” Remus said gently as Draco roughly shoved his plate away and leaned on the table, worrying the silver heirloom ring he wore on his left thumb. His mother had given it to him shortly before she vanished, and he had a tendency to play with it when he was anxious, or deep in thought. He spun it around quickly with the thumb of his other finger, and the ring slid easily in the smooth groove it had created over time.
“Draco, Harry had to …” Remus trailed off as the blonde stood up abruptly, fishing a few knuts out of his pocket before tossing them on the table.
“It was only a matter of time,” Draco ground out before turning to leave.
“It’s never too late though, Draco …” Remus called after him as he stormed out, slamming the shop door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The heat wave that hit London the last week of August almost kept Draco from his rooftop perch - he learned his lesson the hard way after scalding his hand on the hot black tiles. With a thick blanket and some well placed cooling charms, he was back in business. The blonde didn’t know what he would do once the rain set in, and he wondered absently if the landlord would mind if he built a little shelter up there.
His life had taken an abrupt turn after The Incident, as Remus called it. Draco called it The Day His Still Beating Heart Was Ripped From His Chest and Crushed To A Bloody Pulp Before Being Handed Back To Him, but that was too long for civil conversations. He’d spent the better part of an evening on the roof trying to come up with a suitable acronym, but gave up after he ran out of parchment. He did find great pleasure in tossing the crumpled pages in the air and trying to hit them with an Incendio before they hit the roof. Good thing he knew a couple dousing spells.
Draco now shopped in the morning, bought his espresso and newspaper at noon, hit the Leaky for a pint with Blaise on Friday afternoons, and refused to dine at the pastry shop ever again. Short of leaving London, he couldn’t avoid Harry forever, and Draco’s activities and errands around Diagon Alley were mired in a cloud of anxiety. As fate would have it, he was having one of his better days when he walked out of Gringotts and straight into Harry. Literally.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sorr - oh,” Harry faltered, recognition lighting his features as he tried to regain his balance on the steps.
Sorrow indeed, Draco thought as he watched Thomas walk up behind Harry. Draco attempted a sneer and opened his mouth to berate Harry for his clumsiness, but the words failed him when Harry placed a hand on Draco’s arm to steady himself.
“Fuck it all to bloody fucking hell,” Draco spat before pushing his way past the startled pair.
He hit the roof well before sunset that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco concentrated on his next roll-up and contemplated his favorite age old problem: pinpointing when and how he had managed to fall head over heels for Harry Potter. He couldn't settle on an exact time or specific incident, but could only map out a series of events over the course of the war. The strength of his denial over the matter amazed him... how could he have been so stupid? He took a hit and leaned back on his elbows, eyes closed, allowing the enormous weight of his feelings to rise to the surface and shimmer around him like a second skin.
For some inexplicable reason, Harry had been nothing but nice to him. The first two months that Draco had participated in the Order, Harry and Remus had been the only ones that spoke to him outside of when it was strictly necessary. Remus he could handle, but Harry? Old habits die hard, they say, and Draco had been a git of the highest order from day one. Harry wasn't one to give up though; fucking Gryffindor courage, full speed ahead.
A thousand memories sped through Draco's mind: Harry staying by his side until Molly had patched up his bruised and bloody arm, passionate arguments about Pureblood rights while kicking Harry's arse at chess, Harry defending him when Ron wanted to kick him out of the order. Harry, Harry, Harry.
And Draco's response to this attention? Sneer at Harry. Mock him. Rebuff him.
Every. Single. Time.
Draco sighed, wallowing deliciously in self pity. Ah, self flagellation … so much easier than hate, than denial.
Than hope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"How are the wedding plans going?" Draco inquired, spreading a bit of marmalade on his toast.
Remus winced and shook his head. "I got Tonks drunk last night and nearly convinced her to elope, but alas, she passed out while I was getting our coats." Draco snorted, nearly sending tea up his nose.
"We did settle on a date, however. March 15th of next year. Mark your calendar."
"Um...the Ide's of March? Wouldn't that be..." Draco waved his toast in the air dramatically.
"Bad luck or something? Not really. ‘Ides’ just means middle. I'm not Julius Caesar, so I think I'm safe. Anyway, we had to find a weekend that was good for both of us that also fell on the new moon."
Remus took a sip of tea and looked thoughtfully at Draco.
"Besides, Harry will be gone for at least three to four months, and we definitely want him to be there."
This time Draco did choke on his tea, and ended up doubled over, coughing, with Remus thumping him on the back.
"Where is Harry going?" Draco asked once he'd recovered, ignoring the grin quirking at the corner of Remus' mouth.
"Harry has already gone, actually. He left for Paris on Tuesday. He's decided to travel the globe and attend all the Quidditch World Cup qualifying matches. I believe after Paris he is headed for Rio de Janeiro, then Los Angeles, then I think Brisbane or Auckland...” Remus trailed off when he caught the glare on Draco's face. He placed his hand on the blonde's arm and squeezed lightly.
"It was a last minute decision on his part. I would have told you if I had known beforehand."
Draco frowned and gave his teacup a thorough inspection, tracing a crack from the handle to the rim with his index finger.
"Did he take ... did he go with ..." Draco faltered, unable to complete his train of thought.
"He went alone, Draco."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What kind of nutter travels the world just to watch Quidditch anyway? he mused as he inhaled and lay back on the tiles. The moon hung low and heavy in the night sky. He had listened to the first Quidditch match on Thursday on the WWN; France had lost to India in a spectacular fashion. He planned on hooking up with Blaise to listen to Brazil play Jamaica tomorrow, and he bet Remus their next breakfast bill that the U.S. would beat Japan on Saturday.
“Los Angeles,” he whispered as he exhaled; the smoke dancing lazily above his head. “Loose angle-ease. L.A. The city of angels …wonder how long it takes to get there, anyway …” A sly, calculating grin slid onto Draco’s face and he closed his eyes.
“Ah Draco, don’t be crazy,” he said aloud, propping himself up on an elbow and shaking his head. His brain, however, had other ideas, and had already flown past the “why” of the plan, and was working out the “when” and the “how”. Remus was right, his brain told him sagely. Just stop being a coward and fix it already. Defeated, he fell back onto the tiles and began to work out the details, caressing his ring absently.
“It’s never too late…” Remus whispered in his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco squinted as the bright sunlight reflected off of steel and concrete. Obnoxious city. How do people live in this environment? he thought crossly, cursing himself for the fifteenth time on following through with a plan concocted while stoned out of his gourd. He walked quickly from the Interstate Apparation Zone to the Local Zone behind the cheery "Welcome to Los Angeles!" sign and with a crack found himself standing in the shadow of a giant stadium. Draco’s irritability grew as he pushed his way through the dense crowds, narrowly avoiding a vendor cart overflowing with fiery red sun balls and exploding stars. He tried to shrug off the tension building in his neck and shoulders, and with a deep breath and a long calming exhale he approached the witch at the Lost and Found window and gave her his most beguiling Malfoy smile.
"Hello, I was supposed to meet my friend at the front gate at noon, but seeing as there ended up being two front gates, we seem to have missed each other. He has my ticket, so I was wondering if you could page him over the loudspeakers and ask him to meet me over at the Will Call Tent? His name is Harry Potter."
Draco watched her intently for any recognition at Harry’s name, but she only gave him a flirtatious smile and said “sure, no problem!” Stupid Americans really do live in a myopic bubble of self importance, he mused.
He settled into the shadows of the tent and waited, willing time to go faster. Maybe Harry isn’t here yet, he reflected. Or perhaps he changed his mind and isn’t coming to the match at all, his inner cynic pointed out. The blonde took off his ring and twisted it within a shaft of sunlight that had filtered into the tent.
"Can I help you sir?" came the voice of the Wizard on staff.
"Um, yeah, I think so," replied a very red faced and sweaty Harry Potter. "I was paged, I think, I mean someone with my name was told to meet their party here, but I came alone so I don't think it was me, but --"
"You're babbling, Potter."
"Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously as he squinted into the dark tent. "What the fuck are you doing here?" The wizard on staff grumbled at the language, and Harry threw him an apologetic smile. Draco crossed the distance between them and grabbed Harry's elbow, steering him out of the tent.
"How about I buy you some lunch over at the Pavilion?"
"Why? I mean, sure, I guess, but... what are you doing here? How did you know I was here? Is everything all right? Why did you page me?"
Why indeed, thought Draco as he rolled his eyes.
"Everything is fine, Potter. Harry. Look, can we sit down somewhere quiet first?" Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco and nodded, and they found a small table still sticky with ketchup and juice. Draco wrinkled his nose and cast a hefty Scourgify before instructing Harry to sit down and wait. He headed off to find some food and returned with a pizza and two beers, muttering under his breath about "kids" and "manners" and "slobs".
Losing a bit of his nerve now that they were finally face to face, Draco busied himself by cutting his pizza into bite sized pieces with a knife and fork.
"So?" Harry prompted. Draco set down his utensils and took a generous drink from his beer; eyes darting from his fork to Harry’s face and back again.
"Did you break up with Thomas?" he blurted. Smooth, Malfoy. Draco felt his cheeks redden and took another hefty swig of beer.
"Um, yeah, I did. Did you Apparate across the Atlantic Ocean and the entire continent of North America just to ask me that?" Harry was studying him with a guarded expression; part bemused, part wary.
Draco hesitated. "No. I mean … maybe? Um… " Shit. Pull it together.
"Sounds like someone is taking a crash course in the patented Harry Potter School of Idiot Speak."
Draco scowled at him, and Harry broke into a grin and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.
"Look Draco, what’s going on? I thought you barely tolerated me."
"Yes, well… I guess I've had a few months to clarify that position."
Harry gave a small nod as he reflected on what Draco had said. "I see."
The blonde shot him a small apologetic smile and they held each others gaze until the bell signaling the start of team warm-ups startled them.
"Look," Draco said. "I don't have a ticket to the match, so if you want to meet up tomorrow or something..." He faltered, not sure where to take this line of thought. Harry was gazing at the stadium, chewing thoughtfully on his thumbnail.
"You know, I don't care so much about this particular match. This morning I found a great little jetty, if you want to check it out, we could go talk some more, catch up."
Draco couldn’t stop the relieved smile that spread across his face. "Yeah, Harry, that would be great."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sat side by side on a wide flat rock and shared a six pack of beer, watching the waves swell and crash in a rhythmic if not hypnotic fashion.
"So you really have breakfast with Remus once a week?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "I thought he was just winding me up."
Draco laughed. "It's nice. He's a good sounding board for the woeful problems that befall one Draco Malfoy, Esquire."
“Esquire?!”
“Ok, well, maybe not, but it sounded better than ‘Draco Malfoy, Lazy Rich Kid and Burnout Extraordinaire.”
Harry snorted, and handed him a fresh beer. They sat in companionable silence, watching the sun inch its way towards the horizon. A seagull cried out, hovering above the surf.
"So tell me, what exactly are the woes of one Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked, turning to look at the other man.
Draco didn’t reply, and began fiddling with his ring again, twisting it round and round his thumb with an ease that only comes out of habit.
"Oh, you know," Draco began softly. "Things like being an utter prat to someone, rather than own up to how I really feel about him." Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, and Draco leaned forward to continue.
"Or…” Draco took a deep, steadying breath. “Or not appreciating how rare it is to talk and debate with someone who may not agree with you, but still respects your opinions."
Draco was warming up now, the beer had loosened his tongue, and he started ticking things off on his fingers.
"Let’s see, not being as supportive of someone - fuck it - not being as supportive of you as I wanted to when you came out because I wasn’t ready to admit my own sexual preferences to myself.
Wondering how to thank you for backing me up, supporting me, against Ron… everyone…despite the fact that it nearly cost you your best mate.”
“Draco…” Harry said, faltering.
“No! Let me go on, please. How about the fact that I feel guilty for luxuriating in the feeling - that fucking amazing feeling - you get when someone cares for you when you are injured, worries about you when your life is on the line, but being too chickenshit to reciprocate.”
Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Questioning why I dream about y - about waking up with strong arms around me… and never, ever do a damn thing about it."
Draco stood up suddenly, draining the rest of his beer before tossing the bottle end over end into the waves. He struggled to get his emotions in check. Minutes ticked by and Harry did not move or speak. Draco dropped back down onto the rock, burying his face in his hands.
“God Remus, I’m going to kill you,” Draco murmured. He heard Harry laugh softly, and felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. They sat like that for a while, until Harry gave him a squeeze and let go.
"Did I figure it all out too late, Harry?" Draco whispered, his voice ragged with emotion. He turned the ring around his thumb with violent jerks.
Harry slid closer and place one arm tentatively around Draco’s waist, and set his free hand over Draco’s, stilling his frantic movements.
"No, Draco. Someone once told me ‘it’s never too late’."
Draco turned, surprise and hope dancing across his features. Harry smiled before leaning in to rest his head on Draco’s shoulder.
“You aren’t the only one Remus gives advice to, you know.”
~end~
=====================================
A/N: This was written as a request from
13_moons, as part of the DM series. Anyway, the song Somebody by Depeche Mode is beautiful and sweet and a great love song, and well, this is sort of based on that, although I just couldn’t do sappy sweet. I didn’t kill Draco though, which is a plus. I almost gave up on it, but then I was watching the Family Guy episode called Jungle Love, and Brian said: “but 600 miles and all the dope I could smoke couldn’t separate me from my problems.” I took it as a sign to continue.
“She will listen to me when I want to speak
About the world we live in and life in general
Though my views may be wrong
They may even be perverted
She’ll hear me out and won’t easily be converted
To my way of thinking in fact she’ll often disagree
But at the end of it all she will understand me …”