Endlessly
By Siriusly Amused
•
"Come on, Draco; let me see it!"
His grey eyes left the flames of the fire in the common room fireplace and locked onto her brown eyes, scrutinizing her. She held his gaze easily. Silently, Draco pulled back the left sleeve of his robe and unbuttoned the cuff of his school uniform's shirt, pulling that sleeve back as well and revealing the inked stain upon his forearm.
"Merlin, Draco," she swore. Her eyes lingered on his arm for a moment longer before returning to his face.
She seemed scared – maybe a bit disappointed – but not surprised; she knew him too well.
•
He hadn't eaten in days. That was the first thought that crossed her mind when she saw him standing in her bedroom. He had undoubtedly climbed in through the window, just as he had done during previous summers. Sometimes he came to gloat. Sometimes he came to shag. This time he came because he needed her; he had no where else to go.
She crossed her room and took him into her arms, not caring that he was getting dirt and grime on her silk robes, on her face, in her hair. She was painfully aware that she could easily feel his ribs through their layers of clothing.
She led him over to her bed and sat him down, then kneeled before him and began unbuttoning his shirt – she was only partly surprised to find that he was still wearing his school uniform. He had been wearing it when he fled Hogwarts after all. She pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and pointedly avoided looking at his left arm as she did so. With the shirt gone, she instructed him to lie down and once he did, she began work on unbuckling his belt.
His lips formed their familiar smirk at this.
"You know, Pansy, under normal circumstances, this would seriously be turning me on."
Her fingers froze and she felt an odd combination of annoyance and relief: annoyance at his comment, yet relief that he was alive enough to make it.
She straightened and gazed sternly at him. He was dirty, malnourished and had cuts all over him; yet his left arm was behind his head as a sort of makeshift pillow as his right lazily scratched his stomach, and he was offering her a slight smile, clearly showing that he was comforted by her mere presence.
"You can undress yourself," she stated. "I'll go draw you a bath."
•
She was doing manual labor for him; he knew it. She brought him his food and conjured new clothes for him. When he wanted something, she fetched it herself. He was almost tempted to ask if her family had stupidly given their house elf clothes, but knew that she was keeping him a secret even from the house elf. Her parents, who at one time had loved Draco almost like a son, would now turn him over to the Dark Lord in a heartbeat; therefore, she served him silently, not once complaining. She even allowed him to have the bed to himself and slept in a nearby armchair.
Draco watched her sleep and knew that when she woke up, she would have a crick in her neck. He debated briefly about calling her over to the bed, but quickly dismissed the idea and rolled over.
•
She knew that his health had fully returned when she found him doing push-ups on her bedroom floor. He was shirtless and she could see that her weeks of nursing had replenished him. She cleared her throat to alert him to her presence and he looked up immediately and smirked. He brought his left arm behind his back and continued to do push-ups with one hand. She rolled her eyes and strolled over to him, lifted a foot and brought it down upon his back, causing his upper body to fall to the floor.
A satisfied laugh had just barely escaped her lips when he rolled over onto his back. Their eyes met briefly before his arms shot out and grabbed her legs, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the floor beside him, where he was quick to roll on top of her.
He was going to shag her. It always happened this way, him just taking her whenever he wanted. She sighed and resigned herself, immediately spreading her legs; but there was something different in his eyes, something softer about them.
His blonde hair, which was longer than what it had been at school, fell over their faces like a curtain, obscuring them from the rest of the world as he brought his forehead to rest upon hers, his eyes closed. A moment later, he pulled back slightly, his eyes gazing into hers, telling her something that he could not articulate with words. Then he brought his nose to rub gently back and forth against hers in an Eskimo kiss: a gesture he had never done before.
And then he stood, offered her a hand and helped her up, asking her what was for dinner.
•
She was still sleeping in the arm chair, and he knew that she awoke stiff and sore every morning. Sighing to himself, he threw back the covers and got out of bed, quietly padding to where she slept. He gazed at her for a minute, tucking a silky lock of her jet black hair behind her ear as he did so. He gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bed, setting her down upon the satin sheets and covering her up before turning back to the arm chair.
"Draco."
He turned and found her staring at him, her hand outstretched, beckoning him back.
He returned to the bed and laid next to her on his back, intent not to look at her, but she raised herself on her arms and gazed down upon him. Her fingers traced his jaw line, trailed down across his collarbone and descended teasingly toward his stomach.
He smirked.
"I knew you couldn't resist me for too long," he stated.
She rolled her eyes before leaning down to kiss him. It was the first kiss they had shared in months.
•
She was late. She didn't say anything, yet she knew that he knew it. He grew increasingly pensive and would stare into the fire for hours at a time. He also took to placing a hand over her still flat stomach, as if he were guarding something.
She wasn't surprised the morning she awoke and found him gone.
•
He was torn between two worlds: the prideful world of his youth and the promising world he wished for his future child. Returning to the Dark Lord and dying nobly would satiate the pride of his former self. Turning to Potter would anger his parents, yet assure his child a safe future. Draco decided to do neither; instead he turned toward someone else entirely.
•
Draco Malfoy was the last person in the world that Snape expected to find on his doorstep. Though he was still only seventeen, he was no longer a boy, but a man and he gazed at Snape as such.
"I don't know which side you're on, but I'm with you."
Snape smirked and stepped aside, allowing Draco to enter his home.
•
She was nine months pregnant when she saw him again; he was behind bars. His eyes lightened when he saw her, and for a moment, he looked like the little boy who used to share his chocolate frogs with her. His eyes traveled down to her stomach and he reached out a hand through the bars to place it on her protruding belly.
"When?" he asked.
"Soon," she replied.
He glanced downward, his hair falling into his eyes, and nodded.
"They don't know what to do with you," she continued. "You played a significant role in Dumbledore's death and brought Death Eaters into a school. But you were also a minor at the time; you've since helped defeat the Dark Lord and," she paused, "you'll be a father soon."
She smiled when she noticed his familiar smirk play across his lips; even behind bars, he was a cocky bastard.
"They'll let me off."
•
The steam from the Hogwarts Express billowed about them as they led their eleven-year-old son to the train.
"So tell me, son," Draco began as he and Pansy helped their son store his trunk on the train. "What's the one rule you must follow while at school?"
Their son smirked; it was identical to his father's infamous one. "Make Sirius Potter's life hell," he replied.
Draco smiled. Not his usual smirk, but a genuine smile.
"That's my boy."
End Author's Note: I was trying a new style of writing for this one. Kind of short and to the point. For some reason I've been really interested in writing about the Malfoys lately. Especially curious as to post 6th year Draco. I'm not very talkative tonight. Your responses to this ficlet will be greatly appreciated.