…
…
…
“Mmf. Mrbmble. I—Potter! How long have you been here for?”
*softly* “A while.”
*crossly* “Why didn’t you wake me? I’m sure watching me sleep is not a terribly exciting activity.”
“You looked peaceful.”
“I was bored enough to fall asleep in the middle of the day. I was peaceful as a coma victim. Which speaking of—congratulations.”
*soft, happy* “Thanks. She’s—she’s doing well. Once she was out, we could help her. She’s walking again, and with her parents. I thought—I thought my heart was going to burst when I first saw her.”
“Happy ever after, hm?”
“I—oh no, not that way. But—I am happy, at least. I’m grateful for this. Oh. And I have something for you.”
“I get to join in the general festivities? How marvellous.”
“Well. They wouldn’t let me bring in anything but paper. But it’s the lyrics of all the Weird Sisters’ new songs. I thought you might like it.”
”… I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
“What?”
“Come in here, with fragile hope in your eyes and—looking better, and make me hate you. Make me think of what I’d do, if I had one of them given back to me, and make me want to kill you… and then make me not hate you. Maybe. As well.”
“I didn’t—mean to make you think of—anyone. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Thank you for the music.” *quietly* “It was kind of you.”
“I’m not kind. I wanted to.”
*pleasantly* “Why are you here, Potter?”
“I… I want to be here.”
“And why is that? I understood before. You wanted a link to your old life, a link that was strong enough and wouldn’t break. I understand that—I was your best bet. But now you have Granger back, almost from the dead. She loves you and you love her and it’s a miracle, and all you should be doing is thanking God on your knees by her bedside and feeling—happy and saved and oh, so free. So what are you doing here?”
“I don’t know! Did you expect me to just forget about you?”
“Why not?”
“Well, I didn’t! Yeah, it is a miracle, and yeah, I’m happy, and I wanted—to share it with you. I wanted to bring the music. I wanted to come!”
“But why? Damn you, it’s a simple question. Can’t you answer it?”
“What do you want from me?”
*pause, low laughter* “Ohhh, and that’s rather amusingly not the answer.”
“Don’t talk in fucking riddles, Malfoy. God, you are so infuriating.”
“Oh, you love it. Riddle me this, Potter… Come closer.”
”… Why?”
“To hand me the music, of course. I’d love to have a look.”
*steps*
*smoothly* “Thanks so much.” *knock of a wrist against bars*
“Malfoy, let go.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Malfoy, what the hell are you thinking?”
*silkily* “I’m thinking I’m oh, so tired of this. Hmmm. Potter, how many men have you killed?”
“Wh—I don’t know.”
*purring* “Hundreds. Thousands, maybe? You ripped Millicent to shreds. Oh, there’s so much blood on these hands. And you liked shedding it, you know you did, oh, you always liked exacting savage revenge with your own hands. And God knows what all that blood has done to the darkest, most rotten recesses of your soul. You’re even afraid of what you might be, aren’t you? You ruthless, murdering bastard.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I didn’t glory in it like you did. I don’t wake up wanting it now. And I really am a much more well-rounded personality.”
“You’re well-rounded like a spike, Malfoy. Let go of me!”
“On one hand oh, so full of black rage, capable of anything. And then…” *sing-song voice* “There was a war on for five years. I didn’t have time to think about romance. That charmingly befuddled boy, oh so sweet, oh so awkward. At home in the torture chamber, but not in the bedroom. Doesn’t even know what he wants.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Maybe so. I know why you’re here. Want me to tell you?”
“Fuck off, Malfoy.”
“Shhh. Language, Potter. If your mother’s brain wasn’t dust, what would she think? No, shhhh, shhh. You’re going to listen now, Potter. You’re not as stupid as I thought you were.
You didn’t come here for consolation or conversation. Oh, no. What did you think you were telling me, coming here week after week?”
“I don’t know—”
*calmly* “Shut the fuck up, Potter, please. Draco’s talking here. You think that’s normal, Potter? Oh, I’d like to read your diary, oh, I want to tell you all my troubles, oh don’t send me away again, oh your eyes, oh your hair… I know why you remember that camp, back when we were younger, I know why you remember the bloody moths! So… tell me, Potter… why I shouldn’t point out the painfully obvious, and stop all this… tiresome… shit.”
*swallow* “Back off, Malfoy.”
*deliberately* “Hmmm. No.” *step in*
*faltering* “Malfoy, what are—”
“Shhhh.” *soft, wet sound*
*feebly* “Malfoy, you just—you just—”
*throaty, amused* “I just licked your upper lip, Potter. Pay attention. I would have kissed you, but it’s a bit tricky manoeuvring with these bars. I think I got my point across—with just the lightest touch of kink. Now I’m going to do the lower lip… slower.”
*soft, wet, prolonged sound*
*heavy breathing* “Malfoy… I… you…”
“Potter, you look like a virgin who’s just been touched in naughty places. Try for a bit more coherence, there’s a good chap.”
*soft sound of fingers trailing down cotton*
*rasp of breath, forehead against bars* “Malfoy, what are—what are you doing?”
“I would have thought that was obvious. But if you want some kind of details… if you want some sort of game plan… I’m taking a detour in the general vicinity of your nipples. Do you like it?”
“I… I…”
“Be assured, I’m not planning to stop there.”
“God, Malfoy!”
“I doubt he was one. I’ve heard they’re all rotten to the core. And now you know that’s true, don’t you, Potter, so I think now I’ll let go of your wrist and you can run out of here with a scream and your outraged innocence.”
*pause*
“Potter, that was your cue to leave.”
*pause*
*low voice* “Potter, get away from the bars, or I’m going to do it again.”
*strained* “Don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to think.”
“What does that mean?”
*snapped* “I can’t think when you look at me like that!”
“Oh, no? How about when I touch you?”
*pause*
“Potter, are you going to move away from the bars or not!”
”… no.”
*pause*
*knock on the door*
“Go away! We’re busy in here!”
“What?! Shut up, Potter, no we’re not! That knock on the door means get lost, and I trust when you’ve recovered your senses you’ll see the wisdom of that—”
“Oh, God. All right, I’m going. I’m going. I’ll be back next week. Draco—”
“That’s not my name!”
”… yes it is.”
“Well, yes it is, I mean, obviously, it’s my name, I hadn’t forgotten, it’s what I was christened and all that, but in the sense of ‘that’s what you call me,’ Potter, that definitely is not my name!”
“Anyway, what I’m saying is we need to talk. So I’ll be back—”
“Don’t be. It is not the path of wisdom. Potter, will you listen to me! Potter, I’m telling you not to—”
*sound of a door closing*
“Potter! Potter! Oh… God.”