Ficlet: Say Something
Mar. 31st, 2014 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakstone730In the past week or so I've been rather possessed by the Christina Aguilera/Great Big World's Say Something song. Couldn't get it out of my head that it would make for an angsty H/D fic... so I wrote this (and I never write song!fics, so there you go, never say never). Doesn't capture quite what I wanted but I gave it a shot.
“Draco, come on, you know how it is.” Harry took a step towards him, his arm reaching for him.
Draco threw the mug against the wall, it shattered, the brown liquid running down the white wall. “I’m sick of how it is. I’m good enough for you when you want me to fuck you, but you won’t be seen with me outside these walls. Do you any idea what it feels like for me to have to watch you with your dates, their arms around you? Knowing that you will never let me touch you like that in public. Knowing that if I had walked up to you and asked for a dance that you would turn me down? I’ve been telling myself that what we had within these walls was enough, but it isn’t, not anymore. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”
Draco couldn’t look at Harry, instead he looked at the coffee stain marring the wall. He had never been more painfully aware of all the noises in a room. The drip of the kitchen tap. The scrape of the oak tree branch against the house. The thump of his own heartbeat.
It had been, a year ago: he had loved the filthy things Harry would say to him, as he pulled Draco into the bathroom stall at the Leaky when no one was looking. Draco had been smugly satisfied watching from afar, sitting at the back of the room, knowing that no one could guess that each squirm Harry made whilst sitting at the speaker’s table was because he’d just been fucked by Draco in the back room of the Ministry banquet hall.
A year ago, Draco hadn’t thought it would ever anything be more than a few one-night stands, but those one-offs turned into nights sleeping over, and then borrowed toothbrushes turned into his own toothbrush next to Harry’s, and then borrowed shirts turned into a drawer being emptied so that Draco would have a place for his own clothes.
But now his stomach twisted in knots as he was forced to watch Harry as he walked into the room with his arm around the ‘flavor of the week’ as the Prophet described the men Harry took out. He insisted he just used them for cover, that he never went to bed with them, and Draco believed him, but he knew that some night Harry wouldn’t come home. That he’d find someone that he wanted to fuck and wasn’t ashamed to be seen in public with.
“Say something,” Draco hated the pleading in his voice. He’d long ago given up his pride, just to have Harry in his life, but it wasn’t enough, not anymore.
“Draco, you know what they would do, if the press were to find out about us.”
“The problem is, there is no us. There’s just you and me, your little fuck-buddy.” Draco stood up. “And I can’t do it anymore.” He picked up the satchel that he had packed and brushed past Harry on the way to the floo. He willed for his hand not to shake as he reached for floo powder.
As he went to throw the powder into the floo, Harry stopped him, his hand gripping Draco’s arm tightly. Some of the powder slipped through his fingers in a silvery pool on the stone floor.
“Don’t do this, Draco.” Draco turned back to look at him. Harry leaned forward as if to kiss him and Draco pulled sharply away. “Don’t...wait. Have breakfast with me.” Draco snorted and turned and threw the floo powder into the fire. The flames roared green and he tried to move forward but Harry hadn’t let go.
“Have breakfast with me on Diagon Alley. Anywhere you want to go.” Harry’s fingers digging into his arm.
Draco turned towards the fireplace, angry at Harry and himself. “And then what?”
“Then we see what happens next. It will blow-up, you know it will. We’ll just have to deal with it.” Harry pressed in close, Draco could feel the silver buttons of Harry’s robe against his back. “Don’t go.”
Title: Say Something
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Late at night, Draco confronts Harry.
Rating: R for language, angst? Nothing more, I'm afraid.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 740
Warnings: Unbeta'd
“I won’t be your dirty little secret anymore.” Draco’s hands gripped the cold mug of coffee tightly. He looked over at Harry who was standing next to the floo that he’d come through. His black hair mussed, the collar loosened on the formal robes he’d worn to the Ministry function. “I’m done with this...whatever it was.”Warnings: Unbeta'd
“Draco, come on, you know how it is.” Harry took a step towards him, his arm reaching for him.
Draco threw the mug against the wall, it shattered, the brown liquid running down the white wall. “I’m sick of how it is. I’m good enough for you when you want me to fuck you, but you won’t be seen with me outside these walls. Do you any idea what it feels like for me to have to watch you with your dates, their arms around you? Knowing that you will never let me touch you like that in public. Knowing that if I had walked up to you and asked for a dance that you would turn me down? I’ve been telling myself that what we had within these walls was enough, but it isn’t, not anymore. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”
Draco couldn’t look at Harry, instead he looked at the coffee stain marring the wall. He had never been more painfully aware of all the noises in a room. The drip of the kitchen tap. The scrape of the oak tree branch against the house. The thump of his own heartbeat.
It had been, a year ago: he had loved the filthy things Harry would say to him, as he pulled Draco into the bathroom stall at the Leaky when no one was looking. Draco had been smugly satisfied watching from afar, sitting at the back of the room, knowing that no one could guess that each squirm Harry made whilst sitting at the speaker’s table was because he’d just been fucked by Draco in the back room of the Ministry banquet hall.
A year ago, Draco hadn’t thought it would ever anything be more than a few one-night stands, but those one-offs turned into nights sleeping over, and then borrowed toothbrushes turned into his own toothbrush next to Harry’s, and then borrowed shirts turned into a drawer being emptied so that Draco would have a place for his own clothes.
But now his stomach twisted in knots as he was forced to watch Harry as he walked into the room with his arm around the ‘flavor of the week’ as the Prophet described the men Harry took out. He insisted he just used them for cover, that he never went to bed with them, and Draco believed him, but he knew that some night Harry wouldn’t come home. That he’d find someone that he wanted to fuck and wasn’t ashamed to be seen in public with.
“Say something,” Draco hated the pleading in his voice. He’d long ago given up his pride, just to have Harry in his life, but it wasn’t enough, not anymore.
“Draco, you know what they would do, if the press were to find out about us.”
“The problem is, there is no us. There’s just you and me, your little fuck-buddy.” Draco stood up. “And I can’t do it anymore.” He picked up the satchel that he had packed and brushed past Harry on the way to the floo. He willed for his hand not to shake as he reached for floo powder.
As he went to throw the powder into the floo, Harry stopped him, his hand gripping Draco’s arm tightly. Some of the powder slipped through his fingers in a silvery pool on the stone floor.
“Don’t do this, Draco.” Draco turned back to look at him. Harry leaned forward as if to kiss him and Draco pulled sharply away. “Don’t...wait. Have breakfast with me.” Draco snorted and turned and threw the floo powder into the fire. The flames roared green and he tried to move forward but Harry hadn’t let go.
“Have breakfast with me on Diagon Alley. Anywhere you want to go.” Harry’s fingers digging into his arm.
Draco turned towards the fireplace, angry at Harry and himself. “And then what?”
“Then we see what happens next. It will blow-up, you know it will. We’ll just have to deal with it.” Harry pressed in close, Draco could feel the silver buttons of Harry’s robe against his back. “Don’t go.”
