Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to JK Rowlings.
Eeek, I actually did a song fic. Ducks and hides. Don't hate me! But I really like the song. Anyway enjoy the angst. This is a one time shot, and has no baring what so ever on What Comfort We May Find.
~@~
Three Days In Rome – One Shot Story
Draco sat in front of the fireplace, swirling the amber drink in the bottom of his glass as he numbly turned the page to keep reading a book he wanted nothing more to burn out of existence. He should have stopped after the first page when he realized what it was, but some perverse curiosity on what it contained got the better of him, so here he sat, tired, drunk, and betrayed.
The irony of the entire thing was it was his fault, and he knew it.
She was his pet project, his inside girl that no one suspected.
Yes, he was the reformed bad boy that they splashed around as proof that anything was possible, but everyone knew deep down inside he wasn't to be trusted, but her…she was perfect.
"Draco?"
His grip tightened on his glass at the sound of her voice. "What are you doing here?"
She came and stood in front of him, the light of the fire framing her silhouette, "I see you got your copy."
He threw his glass past her at the wall, but she didn't flinch. "How could you do this to me! What kind of person are you?"
"The kind of person you made me."
He glared hard at her, but made no reply, just picked up the wretched manuscript and opened up to a random page and began to read aloud. "Sometimes I think the only thing that truly scares him is coming to the realization that despite everything he's done and all the people he's had to betray to do it, he'll be alone in the end. And it is this fear, more then anything, that drives him so hard to be the man that he is, and do the things that he does, including the apparent good. This includes me, sadly. He doesn't truly love me, and I've accepted that, but for my own sins, I let him bury his in my flesh each night."
She just watched him in the fire light, making no comments as he read that passage, then met his gaze when he was done. "Well?"
"Damn it Ginny! You can't write this!"
"Why?" she asked calmly.
He rose, kicking the book across the room as stood in front of Ginny and grabbed her shoulders. "That's me in there! You can't do that! You can't steal my life and lay it out for every one for their entertainment!"
"It's me in there too."
He pushed her away in disgust. "You chose what to include of you, and stole from me."
Her gaze finally went hard. "I only did what you taught me to do."
He closed his eyes at this truth for a moment. "Was anything we had real?"
She shrugged. "Some of it. Rome was real."
His laugh was hollow at her answer. Three days out of three years. "Is this going to be published?"
Again she shrugged. "Depends. Did you like it?"
He grinned wearily. "Actually, yeah. It was pretty good. I didn't know you had it in you."
She was silent for a moment. "I still have to edit it."
"Change the names."
"I will."
"And there are a few sections that I want out of there."
"No."
"I'm not arguing about this."
She just raised a brow at him. "Remember who has the original."
Changing tactics, he began, "Are you going home tonight?"
She blinked. "Yes. I actually should be going now."
Draco watched her cross the room, and as she reached the door, he suddenly felt like if he didn't speak now, he wouldn't get another chance, or maybe it was the whiskey he had. Whatever it was, he suddenly found himself calling out to her. "You were wrong, you know."
She paused, but did not turn. "About what?"
He sighed and sat back down in his chair facing the fire. "It was real to me. You were always real to me." Silence reigned in the room for what seemed liked hours until he couldn't stand it anymore and finally turn and saw she was gone. "And I do love you."
The manuscript was still on the floor, so he rose, retrieved it, and settled back down to finish reading.
~@~
The Book
Sheryl Crow
I
read your book
And I find it strange
That I know that girl and I know her world
A little too well
And I didn't know
By giving my hand
That I would be written down, sliced around,
Passed down
Among strangers hands
Three days in Rome
Where do we go
I'll always remember
Three days in Rome
Never again
Would I see your face
You carry a pen and a paper
and no time and words you waste
You're a voyeur
The worst kind of thief
To take what happened
To write down everything that went on
Between you and me
Three days in Rome
And I stand alone
I'll always remember
Three days in Rome