Things Don't Always Turn Out That Way
by astrogirl23
A/n: My first fic here. I hope you'll like it. I do not own anything except the plot by the way. JKR owns it all.
Anyway, the title of this little songfic is from the song of The Calling in their album Camino Palmero. So please don't sue me, I am literally penniless.
x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o
Well he can't sleep at night
And he can't do what's right
It was all because she came into his life
It's a deep obsession, taking up his timeDamn. Draco Malfoy angrily threw aside his blanket as he jumped from his bed, finally admitting defeat from trying to sleep. How the bloody hell could he achieve sleep in this cramped room anyway?
He had been in the Order's new headquarters with the assistance of Remus Lupin, who had been patrolling near Surrey then, where he had been hiding since he had escaped Snape.
The horror of what had happened almost a year before still lingered like iron brand in his mind, refusing to be expunged, to be forgotten.
And the terrible news that came to him two months after he had fled Snape's sanctuary, which was his mother's torturous death, had sent him at the brink of losing his sanity.
It was a good thing the Order had found him then, and instead of the heavy punishment he had been expecting them to bestow on him, they had taken care of him and brought him back to good health.
Until that moment he still failed to understand why they were being so bloody kind when he had been the cause of their leader's—Dumbledore's death. And he was nothing more useful than filth—how could he help them eliminate Voldemort when he was being tracked down by the Dark Lord himself? And so all he could do to help was stay inside the headquarters like some bloody invalid.
"I want to be of some bloody use," he had said as he intruded one of the Order's important meetings. He ignored Potter's spiteful glance, but his gray eyes had narrowed when Weasley said in his arrogant voice, "There's always the kitchen for you, Malfoy. Just don't go poisoning us,"
The ever-meddling Granger had stood up and shielded her idiotic redheaded friend as he started forward, his hands balled into fists. "Don't, Malfoy," she had said in her annoyingly sensible voice. "Ron, do keep your stupid opinions to yourself,"
Weasley pounded a fist on the table. "Are you defending the git, Hermione? The bastard doesn't deserve anything from us, much less the sympathy you seem to be inclined in offering!"
Granger stared at him coolly. "You didn't have to bait him, you know," she told Weasley, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of a bowl. "You wouldn't know how it would feel being useless to people you owe your hide to,"
"But what could he do? He'll just be trouble," one the twin Weasleys spat out, and the other members of the Order nodded.
"Well, there must be some way my cousin can be of assistance," Tonks suddenly piped up, giving Malfoy an encouraging smile. He fought to smile back, not daring to do it in front of the idiots who still condemned his presence despite his change of heart.
Nymphadora Tonks knew though, that her cousin can now be trusted. Especially now that he has nowhere to go to.
"Actually," Minerva McGonagall started, gaining everyone's rapt attention. "I think we could use Mr. Malfoy's intellect with the planning of the missions we are to embark onto to defeat the Dark Lord,"
"B—but—" Weasley started to object but McGonagall held her hand up to silence him. "It is final, no more objections are welcome,"
And so he worked to help plan their plots. And to Weasley's dismay, each one had been successful, and they were nearly at the verge of defeating Voldemort.
He had now begun to earn the trust of most of the members of the Order, if not all. And he won't fail them, his heart set on avenging his mother's death.
Now, as he went down the narrow, rickety stairs, he could already see the fire crackling from the hearth of the living room, indicating that someone was still there. He stopped then, and debated whether he should go on down or just go back to his room.
He didn't want to see her after all. Her mere presence sickened him, and he could not stand the way his stomach would coil every time she glanced at him, or the way his heart would come hammering up his chest when she walked over to talk to him. She's all that he wants, she's all that he needs Deep inside though, he knew that if ever he did just return to his chamber, he would again spend the rest of the evening staring stupidly at the ceiling until morning came.
She's everything he just won't believe
Take away his doubt, turn him inside out
Then she can see what he's been dying to say
But things don't' always turn out that way
Giving a low growl, he then proceeded downstairs, where he promptly glimpsed her bushy brown head bent over a thick textbook. She was scribbling something on the parchment placed over the book, and when she felt his presence, she looked up from her work.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, her voice low and soft as always. Really, he would have appreciated it more if she snapped at him. He could feel his heart beginning to race again as her questioning amber eyes bored into his confused gray ones, and he hastily tore his gaze away.
"None of your business, mudblood," he ground out, silently congratulating himself for sounding authoritative and bastardly. He felt her tense up, but no retort followed.
Why the hell won't she bicker with him?? Feeling disappointment well up within his gut, he sat as far away as he could from her on the couch and grabbed a book from the coffee table.
He glared angrily at the first page, wondering why the hell the letters written in it won't let themselves be absorbed in his brain. Then again, he had always wondered why his mind always became intolerably addled every time she was in the same room with him.
And he had always blamed it on her blood, which may have been what's causing the rollercoaster emotions within him for the past weeks.
Or maybe it was because of the sudden changes he been noticing since he had lived under the same roof with her—since when had she grown so comely anyway?
It sickened him to voice those thoughts even to himself, that he was actually thinking a mudblood, especially the one who had always made herself earn his rarely given respect by withstanding all his insults and taunts, could actually attract him.
And ever since he had taken sanctuary in the hellhole they called the Order's headquarters, she had been one of the few who had tried to understand him and not treat him with the contempt other people in the threshold seemed to reserve only for him.
She had even defended him several times from her so-called friends, but Malfoy, the idiot he was, had never spared a moment to thank her.
And why should he, he had asked himself a thousand times. It was not as if he asked her to do it for him, after all. She did without being asked, so he should also give his gratitude without having anyone to force him, even the miniscule scrap of conscience at the back of his head.
"Malfoy?"
Her voice abruptly jolted him from his train of thoughts.
"You are disturbing me, Granger," he muttered, turning the page without actually reading the text.
"Not your reading, I am sure, but your reverie," she said, looking at him with defiance in her caramel-colored eyes.
"It really is none of your bloody business what I prefer to do,"
She gave a small shrug. "You seem to be drowning in your thoughts that I felt the need to pull you out," she told him with a concerned look in her face as she set down her quill. "Are you thinking about the war? From the look on your face, I can tell you're contemplating something… undecipherable, I suppose,"
Biting back his tongue to prevent saying what he didn't want her to hear, he threw back the book on the coffee table, closing his eyes as he leaned back on the couch.
"I'm sorry about your mother." Her whispered statement rang like thunder in his ears.
"Are you?" he bit out. "Wouldn't you usually refer to my misfortune as 'karma'?"
He missed the outraged expression that had made its way on her face, as his eyes remind shut. "I would never ever wish for something as terrible as that even to my worst enemy," she said vehemently, fire in her toffee colored eyes.
And he must confess
All the impure thoughts of his beautiful temptress
Although he keeps it all bottled up inside
Although he keeps it all safe within his mind
"Then what a nice little saint you are," he scoffed with a sneer.
"I really am sorry about your mum," she repeated with a huge sigh. "I wish there was something I could do to… help you, or something,"
He couldn't help mimicking her sigh. "You can start by leaving me alone," he offered.
"Is that what you really want?" she asked softly, unmoved by his barb. "Grieving alone? I wish you would give us a chance, Malfoy,"
"Like your virtuous friends have given me a chance?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"They just need time to adjust, they weren't given enough—"
"Go back to your work, mudblood," he cut in without opening his eyes, not interested in hearing her defend her poor excuses of friends. He could feel her watching him, and her gaze made him want to squirm in discomfort.
"Actually, I just finished what I needed to do," she answered, and he heard the quiet rustling of papers as she gathered her work.
"Then why don't you go up to your room and leave me in peace?" he asked brusquely.
"I was here first, if I must remind you, Malfoy," she responded, and he gave an inward wince when he felt her lean back on the couch beside him.
"Fine," he grumbled. "Then we shall just have to tolerate each other's company,"
He could feel her looking at him again, but still he refused to open his eyes.
"Would that be so bad?" she asked quietly.
Malfoy didn't know how to respond to that, so he did not speak.
"Malfoy?"
"What is it now, Granger?" he snapped, opening his eyes and turning to give her a glare.
He wished he hadn't turned to look at her; damn, but Granger looked too pretty with the soft light emitted from the crackling hearth illuminating her delicate features, making her brown eyes look golden, while the stray strands of chocolate brown hair which had escaped the confines of her ponytail framed her face rather enticingly.
"Are you truly alright now?" she asked, and his gaze couldn't help but be fastened on those equally enticing lips.
"I would be," he said rather forcefully, his breathing suddenly uneven. "if you'll move your face away from mine, Granger,"
"Oh, of course, sorry—" she hastily moved away, a light blush staining her smooth cheeks.
Malfoy turned his face away from her and closed his eyes once more as he calmed his racing heart—if he had not told her to move away, he might not have been able to help himself and would have kissed her senseless as he totally forget the fact that she nothing more than a mudblood.
That realization sent an ugly, icy sensation at the pit of his stomach.
"You don't seem alright to me, you know," Granger said, seeming to get over her embarrassment. "You still haven't opened yourself enough to us—"
Malfoy's snort cut her off. "And what do you expect, for me to become chums with Potty and Weasel? It's too early for pigs to soar up the sky, don't you think?"
"But you do trust us," she said that statement as fact; again he had this feeling she was looking at him as though waiting for his reaction.
"Yes," he answered with a resigned note in his voice. "I know you lot lack the craftiness the Death Eaters have so I'm feeling quite safe with you,"
He nearly jumped off his seat when he felt her small hands grasp his forearm where his Dark Mark had been embedded.
"Granger, what the bloody hell do you think you're—"
"Does it still burn?" she asked, lifting her eyes to his bewildered gray ones.
"I'm used to ignoring it," he answered in what he thought was a strangled tone, quite aware that her hands were still skimming unconsciously on his forearm.
He was quite appalled to realize that her touch made him feel a surge of lust that he never imagined he would feel for someone of her kind.
He quickly grabbed her hands and gently pried them away from his arm. "Don't, Granger," his voice had come out hoarse, and he silently cursed as he tried to control the raging emotions within him.
She gave him a confused look, as though she had no idea what she was doing to him.
"Are you alright, Malfoy?" she asked worriedly.
"You're being repetitive, mudblood," he growled. "Leave now before I… just leave me alone,"
"What if I don't want to?" she asked challengingly.
"Then you're going to suffer the consequences," were his last words before he grabbed her by the upper arms and brought down his lips to her with crushing force, showing no hint of gentleness, just plain male lust tinged with frustration.
It took her a moment to react; when she was able to adjust her mouth against his, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands burrowing themselves in his soft white-blond hair as he softened the kiss.
He nibbled at her lower lip and she gave a small gasp of pleasure, granting his tongue entrance as it swept inside her mouth to taste her sweetness.
Hell, if he had known that Granger had tasted this good, he wouldn't have waited so long to kiss her the way he did that moment. He couldn't seem to get enough of her, the kiss going on and on until he could no longer breathe, unable to sate the desire he felt for her.
Granger gave a moan of protest when he tore his lips from hers, his breathing ragged and uneven. When he managed to find the strength to speak, he said, "Fuck. Fuck, I can't believe I just did that,"
She was staring at him with a dazed look in her eyes, looking so damn beautiful that he wanted to kiss her again. And again.
"This… this is madness," he mumbled, almost to himself. "Bloody madness…" he buried his face into his hands in shame. How could he have done such a horrible thing? He just kissed a mudblood. Enjoyed it. And worst, he craved for more.
"Malfoy…" Granger finally spoke after a few minutes of tense silence. "I—"
"Stop," he ground out, his voice weak, his breathing uneven. "Don't—just—just shut up and leave me,"
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what—"
"Just leave me alone." His words seemed final, yet she remained adamant.
"Look at me and say that again if you really want me to," she challenged, and he lifted his head to meet her unyielding gaze, shock visible in those silvery eyes.
"I am not supposed to be kissing a mudblood like you. If my father hears about this madness, he—"
"He's not here, Malfoy."
"—he'd surely beat the hell out me. Ever since I got into close quarters with you, I've been having this nasty disease—"
"What kind?" she asked, surprised.
"I can't eat, I haven't had proper sleep, my stomach hurts like hell when you're around, my heart won't stop twisting—" he couldn't seem to stop his mouth now; he needed her to understand that she had to get away from him so he could be well again.
The surprise in her eyes changed to something unfamiliar to him, and the knots in his stomach tugged harder when she moved close back to him.
"Malfoy…" she started, and he was confused when he saw a ghost of a smile creep up her lips. "You aren't sick,"
"I am, damn it!" He shook his head, totally weirded out by her reaction. "It's a disease caused by staying too close to mudbloods like you," he answered determinedly. "If you'd leave me alone, maybe I'll get better,"
"You won't get better if I leave," she confirmed, shocking him when she pulled him closer, her face an inch from his. "I think I know the cure,"
"What?" he breathed out, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage.
"This." Was her last statement before her lips caught his. So wipe that smile off your face x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o-x-o
Before it gets too late
There's only so much time
For you to make up your mind