ozma_katiebell (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ozma_katiebell) wrote,@ 2008-08-09 15:37:00 |
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| Current mood: |  dirty |
| Entry tags: | draco, harry |
Ficlet: Under a rock
Title: Under a Rock
Author: ozma_katiebell
Fandom: HP
Word Count: 1151
Characters: Draco, Harry, Possible Draco/Harry. Mentions of Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione possible Harry/Ron and Draco/OFC
Rating: PG13 for language
Summary: Harry gets locked in a cellar with the person he hates the most. Or does he?
Note:Written for the
The Least Favourite Character/Pairing
Drabble/Drawble & Ficlet Challenge!
snegurochka_lee suggested that we write our least favorite canon pairings. I'm afraid I don't find Draco the smallest bit appealing (his father, on the other hand...) and I don't think I've even read a Draco/Harry before. Actually I think I write a perfectly dreadful Harry. That said, here was my attempt. *bleaches brain*
"By all means, go on kicking the door, Potter. Won’t get anyone to come and help, but it’s vastly amusing. I hope you break your heroic foot.”
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry said, forgetting his promise to completely ignore the sod. He couldn’t believe it had come to this, after everything. Everyone had assumed that Thicknesse hadn’t been a real Death Eater, just one under the influence of Imperius, but here they were, about to pay for their individual parts in the war long after it was over.
There was a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing that Malfoy was looking far worse for the wear than he was, he had to admit, though his face was set in its usual arrogant smirk. What had they done to him? What was going to happen to Harry? Would it be too late for him before anyone discovered he went missing? What had they done with his wand?
He shook his head, trying to focus. He was thinking the way that he had at school, not as an Auror, letting an old grudge get in the way of any sort of strategy. At any rate, shouting at the door wasn’t doing any good, so he moved away from the door; looking to find any place to sit down other than the filthy mattress Draco was sprawled across.
He chose the floor, in spite of the fact that it seemed to be moving in the dim light. Vermin were preferable to Malfoy, right?
“How long have you been here?” he asked, and Malfoy actually looked startled by the change in his approach.
“Three days, I think,” Draco said, and he looked at his fingernails rather than at Harry. Probably upset that his manicure was ruined, Harry thought with disgust. Reluctantly, he tamed down his irritability. “I was just leaving lunch with my wife.”
“Is she here?” Harry asked, still finding it hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily choose to link his or her life with the man, especially given his lack of status these days. Must have been the money. And then he got a mental image of Draco in bed with some faceless woman, which wouldn’t do at all.
“No, that would be missing the point, wouldn’t it?” Draco said.
Harry turned toward him, meeting his eyes for the first time. “What is the point?”
“Thicknesse is my father-in-law,” Draco said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. "This is revenge, you see.”
“Well, that much I gathered.” Harry said. “But if he’s your father in law…”
"Yes?” Draco asked.
“I mean, wouldn’t he have forgiven you for your part in the war long before he let you marry his daughter?”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with the war,” Draco said. “I’m here because my wife caught me in bed with…someone. She obviously went crying to Daddy, and this is what I get.”
Harry was silent for a few moments, trying to digest it all. “But…”
“Yes?”
“Well then why am I here?” Harry asked.
“No idea,” Draco said, looking away. “Perhaps he hoped you would kill me.”
Harry scowled. “If I didn’t actually kill Voldemort…” He felt a small degree of satisfaction that Malfoy still winced at the name. “Why would anyone assume that I would kill you? I mean, you’re…”
Irrelevant? Less than nothing? Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The man still knew how to goad him into an overreaction, but…that was all so very long ago, wasn’t it?
Draco seemed to be still waiting for him to finish. When he didn’t, he offered, “Nothing to you?”
It was strange how guilty that statement made him feel. It wasn’t exactly true, but he’d like to have thought that he matured past the point where schoolboy grudges had anything to do with his present life, which was really quite nice, thank you very much. If not for being locked in a cellar with an arrogant git, that was.
“Well,” he said. I’m just…I thought we’d got past all that. Grown up a bit.”
Draco sighed, and the sound was so incongruous coming out of him that Harry did a double take. “Apparently my wife is more observant than I gave her credit for. You see, I do speak of you from time to time—never in a complimentary way, mind you, but…” He stood up abruptly.
“The…person she caught me in bed with…Dark hair, green eyes. A pale substitute, of course, but if I closed my eyes just a bit…Anyway, I was clearly showing more enthusiasm for the activity than I ever showed with her. And I’m afraid that since the war I have an unfortunate habit of talking in my sleep.”
Harry stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“Clever girl, my wife. Far cleverer than I gave her credit for. Too much to hope that she thought she was doing me a favor by forcing my hand, so I can only assume this was meant as torture. Why not lock me in a room with the object of my desires? Watch him struggle to get back to his happy little family. His perfect little wife. A baby, too, isn’t there? Probably covered in those hideous freckles you seem so fond of. You know, I used to wonder if it was a difficult decision for you. The brother or the sister? I liked to think you were half in love with both.”
Harry was speechless. So many things to think about at once, and he didn’t even have the desire that usually came so naturally to him--to hurt Draco, to lash out at him, to vehemently deny everything he was insinuating.
There was more truth to his words than he liked to admit. What if there had been no Hermione? Would Ron have ever been an option? The man standing in front of him, (oddly appearing more vulnerable from his words than the bruises on his face had ever made him) was proof that he was capable of obsessive focus on another man. It took years to come to terms with that. Fortunately for him, Ginny never knew the difference, never suspected that she was second choice, or possibly third. Or if she did, it didn’t seem to bother her. She’d got what she wanted, hadn’t she? They were happy, far happier than he’d ever dreamed he could be.
This was the way it was supposed to end, living happily ever after, finding his place in a family, creating his own. But what if he’d chosen differently? What if he’d allowed himself to even consider other choices? He met Draco’s eyes reluctantly. For the first time ever, they weren’t hooded with disdain or blazing with resentment. The change in his face was remarkable. “We have to get out of here,” Harry said, swallowing thickly. “That’s the first thing. If we work together…”
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry said, forgetting his promise to completely ignore the sod. He couldn’t believe it had come to this, after everything. Everyone had assumed that Thicknesse hadn’t been a real Death Eater, just one under the influence of Imperius, but here they were, about to pay for their individual parts in the war long after it was over.
There was a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing that Malfoy was looking far worse for the wear than he was, he had to admit, though his face was set in its usual arrogant smirk. What had they done to him? What was going to happen to Harry? Would it be too late for him before anyone discovered he went missing? What had they done with his wand?
He shook his head, trying to focus. He was thinking the way that he had at school, not as an Auror, letting an old grudge get in the way of any sort of strategy. At any rate, shouting at the door wasn’t doing any good, so he moved away from the door; looking to find any place to sit down other than the filthy mattress Draco was sprawled across.
He chose the floor, in spite of the fact that it seemed to be moving in the dim light. Vermin were preferable to Malfoy, right?
“How long have you been here?” he asked, and Malfoy actually looked startled by the change in his approach.
“Three days, I think,” Draco said, and he looked at his fingernails rather than at Harry. Probably upset that his manicure was ruined, Harry thought with disgust. Reluctantly, he tamed down his irritability. “I was just leaving lunch with my wife.”
“Is she here?” Harry asked, still finding it hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily choose to link his or her life with the man, especially given his lack of status these days. Must have been the money. And then he got a mental image of Draco in bed with some faceless woman, which wouldn’t do at all.
“No, that would be missing the point, wouldn’t it?” Draco said.
Harry turned toward him, meeting his eyes for the first time. “What is the point?”
“Thicknesse is my father-in-law,” Draco said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. "This is revenge, you see.”
“Well, that much I gathered.” Harry said. “But if he’s your father in law…”
"Yes?” Draco asked.
“I mean, wouldn’t he have forgiven you for your part in the war long before he let you marry his daughter?”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with the war,” Draco said. “I’m here because my wife caught me in bed with…someone. She obviously went crying to Daddy, and this is what I get.”
Harry was silent for a few moments, trying to digest it all. “But…”
“Yes?”
“Well then why am I here?” Harry asked.
“No idea,” Draco said, looking away. “Perhaps he hoped you would kill me.”
Harry scowled. “If I didn’t actually kill Voldemort…” He felt a small degree of satisfaction that Malfoy still winced at the name. “Why would anyone assume that I would kill you? I mean, you’re…”
Irrelevant? Less than nothing? Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The man still knew how to goad him into an overreaction, but…that was all so very long ago, wasn’t it?
Draco seemed to be still waiting for him to finish. When he didn’t, he offered, “Nothing to you?”
It was strange how guilty that statement made him feel. It wasn’t exactly true, but he’d like to have thought that he matured past the point where schoolboy grudges had anything to do with his present life, which was really quite nice, thank you very much. If not for being locked in a cellar with an arrogant git, that was.
“Well,” he said. I’m just…I thought we’d got past all that. Grown up a bit.”
Draco sighed, and the sound was so incongruous coming out of him that Harry did a double take. “Apparently my wife is more observant than I gave her credit for. You see, I do speak of you from time to time—never in a complimentary way, mind you, but…” He stood up abruptly.
“The…person she caught me in bed with…Dark hair, green eyes. A pale substitute, of course, but if I closed my eyes just a bit…Anyway, I was clearly showing more enthusiasm for the activity than I ever showed with her. And I’m afraid that since the war I have an unfortunate habit of talking in my sleep.”
Harry stared at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“Clever girl, my wife. Far cleverer than I gave her credit for. Too much to hope that she thought she was doing me a favor by forcing my hand, so I can only assume this was meant as torture. Why not lock me in a room with the object of my desires? Watch him struggle to get back to his happy little family. His perfect little wife. A baby, too, isn’t there? Probably covered in those hideous freckles you seem so fond of. You know, I used to wonder if it was a difficult decision for you. The brother or the sister? I liked to think you were half in love with both.”
Harry was speechless. So many things to think about at once, and he didn’t even have the desire that usually came so naturally to him--to hurt Draco, to lash out at him, to vehemently deny everything he was insinuating.
There was more truth to his words than he liked to admit. What if there had been no Hermione? Would Ron have ever been an option? The man standing in front of him, (oddly appearing more vulnerable from his words than the bruises on his face had ever made him) was proof that he was capable of obsessive focus on another man. It took years to come to terms with that. Fortunately for him, Ginny never knew the difference, never suspected that she was second choice, or possibly third. Or if she did, it didn’t seem to bother her. She’d got what she wanted, hadn’t she? They were happy, far happier than he’d ever dreamed he could be.
This was the way it was supposed to end, living happily ever after, finding his place in a family, creating his own. But what if he’d chosen differently? What if he’d allowed himself to even consider other choices? He met Draco’s eyes reluctantly. For the first time ever, they weren’t hooded with disdain or blazing with resentment. The change in his face was remarkable. “We have to get out of here,” Harry said, swallowing thickly. “That’s the first thing. If we work together…”