Into the Ashes
Written for QLFC, Round One
Stats: Falmouth Falcons - Chaser Three
Main Prompt : Write a theme you've never written before. PTSD
Optional Prompts:
4 - (word) divorce
7 - (song) Me Too - Meghan Trainor
13 - (word) corporation
Herbology - Task 1: Write about someone struggling with a change in their life
Thank you to Amber and Sophie for the beta help. And to Lucy for helping along the way. Caw, caw
~o0o~
Four years of marriage were reduced to a piece of parchment no longer than a First Year Charms essay. The unbinding ceremony had taken place that afternoon, the wards had been reset, and the last piece of parchment was signed and filed with the Ministry. It was official; Marcus James Flint and Draco Lucius Malfoy were divorced.
Walking into his study, Draco let out the scream he had been holding in since the Ministry Official told him to have a great day. Had the incompetent witch even looked at the document he was filing? "Have a great day? Have. A. Great. Day?!" Draco growled at no one in particular; each word was punctuated by tearing at a closure on his emerald robes, cursing the last fastener off when it would not cooperate. His hands were shaking—he couldn't get the cufflinks off fast enough, nearly tearing the cuffs off his shirt entirely.
He paced the room like a caged tiger. The anger was morphing into panic—he couldn't breathe. The tie, that took him forty-five minutes to pick out this morning, felt as though it had transfigured into a boa constrictor that was steadily choking him. Tearing at it, Draco's wild eyes combed the room looking for something, anything to distract himself.
Glancing over at the large mahogany desk, his gaze froze on a photo cut out from Witch Weekly a lifetime ago. He stalked over to the desk to pick up the silver framed picture from the night he saw Marcus for the first time since Hogwarts. Sorrow flooded in, drowning the panic, as he looked longingly at the moment captured by some voyeur all those years ago. The pair were standing in the middle of the dance floor. Both were looking only at each other amid a sea of people, lights flashing to the beat of a song that didn't matter. That indescribable instant before a first kiss. The one that was supposed to be his last first kiss.
~o0o~
Draco scanned the club for a familiar face in the crowd at Pendulum; anxiety ratcheting up with each strangers face. He'd much rather be sitting home alone in his study with a good book and a glass of Firewhiskey. Unfortunately, a group of colleagues from Malfoy Corporation decided to meet up here after work. They'd been working inhumane hours to finish a proposal for MACUSA and had been in desperate need to blow off some steam.
Weaving through the crowd, searching for respite in the sea of bodies pressed in on him, Draco reached a twenty-foot long wooden sanctuary. Catching the eye of a leggy brunette slinging drinks, he wasted no time ordering his old standby. "Black Label Ogden's Old, neat. Two." He tipped the first back, draining it in two large gulps. Sipping the second as the comforting burn of tension slowly left his body. This elixir of life had been his salvation since sixth year; the feeling of a warm hug from an old friend allowing him to take his first easy breath of the night.
Leaning back on the bar, his eyes were drawn to the door and everything else faded away. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a roguish smile. He wasn't the only person looking; every eye in the club was on the hulking man. Recognizing him instantly Draco couldn't help the small smile crossing his face as he remembered the happiest days he spent at Hogwarts. Marcus Flint headed directly up to the VIP balcony, walking with a swagger born from confidence that radiated off him in waves. The warm brown skin from spending summer days on the quidditch pitch glowed under the pulsing lights of the club. Drawn to the perfect male specimen like a magnet, Draco followed him up the stairs, coworkers completely forgotten.
Before he second-guessed his intentions Draco called out to the wizard he hadn't seen since third year at Hogwarts. "Marcus?"
A dark gaze searching out the voice he recognized, and his eyes brightened at the lanky blonde from his past.
"Oi, Malfoy? What's up, man?"
The conversation flowed effortlessly right from the beginning, and it was more like catching up with an old friend, than it was truly meeting someone for the first time. The two didn't run in the same circles now, but the tapestry of their childhood had been woven with the same dark threads which gave them plenty of fodder for conversation.
"So, you started playing for the Polish team right out of Hogwarts?" Sitting at a small table overlooking the dance floor, they leaned into each other to be heard over the din. The older wizard's eyes lit up when the conversation turns to quidditch, and to him.
"Yeah, the Grodzisk Goblins. I started as a reserve, but their Chaser caught a Bludger to the cranium, and I was called up to take over a more permanent role. I was traded to the Falcons just last year when their Chaser decided to hang up her robes and stay home with her new baby. I'm not gonna lie, it's a little weird to be back, you know, after all the Dark Lord stuff went down."
Draco had never heard the Second Wizarding War referred to as "stuff". It was so far beyond that. The things they were all forced to do in order to stay alive—Draco still had nightmares about those years. Flint didn't seem to understand just how bleak it was during his reprieve in Poland. Draco changed the subject to something a little lighter and ordered another round of Firewhiskey. Raising his glass in the air, they toasted to the night.
Liquid courage coursing through his body, Draco grabbed Marcus's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. The song was not anything that he recognized, but the beat was one he could move to, and he intended to move to it along with Marcus.
~o0o~
Fighting back tears that burned the back of his eyelids, Draco curled his fingers around the picture frame with a grip so tight the glass shattered. Startled back to the present, he tossed the frame back on his desk and noticed his clothing for the first time. The shredded robe hanging from slumped shoulders, the tie Marcus gave him on their second anniversary hanging from his neck, the ruined shirt, were unceremoniously stripped off and thrown into the fireplace. Standing in just his trousers and undershirt, Draco pointed his wand, muttered a low "Incendio" and watched as the flames licked greedily at the offending clothing until nothing but ashes remained.
His hands were trembling, and heart was pounding. He felt a cold wave rush through his body, the metallic taste of panic was in his mouth. Sitting down on the worn leather sofa he hung his head in his hands, hoping to slow down the latest attack from sinking him completely. He took his time and felt each finger as it pressed on his scalp. Then he focused on breathing. Inhale- one, two, three -hold- one, two, three -exhale- one, two, three. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
~o0o~
The entire Quidditch team was at the manor after their final match that season. Athletes of all shapes and sizes spread throughout the house, which made the vast manor feel more like a cozy home. Some were on the balcony looking over the snow covered gardens drinking the good Firewhiskey, while others were sitting around the kitchen table debating the skills of the Puddlemere Keeper. The rest were boasting of recent conquests in Draco's study; everyone was having a raucously good time. Draco found himself on his favorite chair tucked into a corner of the room waiting in the wings on the off chance Marcus needed him for anything.
There was a lull in the conversation, and a few of his teammates started asking Marcus some rather pointed questions about his new relationship. Feeling like he was intruding on a private conversation, Draco shrunk further into the dark corner.
Marcus looked his teammates in the eye, head shaking in disbelief. "Really? Why, are you afraid of the big, bad Death Eater? They all had to sit through trials. The Wizengamot didn't find him guilty of anything. Who are you or I to say they were wrong?"
"Yeah, but come on Marcus, I've heard some of the stuff he did. He tried to kill Dumbledore."
"Yeah, and he didn't do it. Do you know why he was up there that night? You weren't there; don't presume you know what happened because you read some Skeeter article. I choose to spend my days and nights with Draco because I know the man he became, not the boy he was. I love him for the amazing wizard he is."
Draco could have kissed that handsome man senseless right then. But, he waited until the team had all Floo'd home for the night before pouncing on his wizard.
~o0o~
An impatient tapping on the window interrupted his reverie. Reluctantly allowing the familiar brown bundle of energy in, Draco snatched the proffered roll of parchment and tossed an owl treat out the window. Watching as the tiny beast followed his payment, and slamming the window shut once his tail feathers cleared the sill.
Theodore and Millicent Nott were owling him daily, trying to get him out of the house. Thinking it was another attempt to rescue him from himself, he was reluctant to open the note. The need for distraction won out and he tore the scroll open reading the note scribbled in Theo's familiar scrawl. "Drake, We are here if you need us. Marcus is a fool who could never hope to find anyone better than you. ~Nott". Draco crumpled the scrap of lies in his fist and threw it into the ashes left in the bottom of the fireplace.
~o0o~
It was well past 2 AM when Draco felt the bed dip next to him. He hadn't spoken to Marcus since breakfast, and had no idea where he'd been the last 4 hours. Feigning sleep, both wizards laid with their backs to each other on the huge bed. How long had it been since Draco fell asleep with Marcus curled around him? Sleep was elusive, as it always was when they were so far apart, and the next morning both wizards woke up in poor moods. Itching for a fight the breakfast table once again became a battlefield. "Where were you last night?" A dejected Draco asked his husband.
"I went to Thorfinn and Patty's after the match. I figured you would've already been in bed, so I didn't want to bother you. Plus, it's not as if you'd have come anyway." It stung, but Draco knew it was true. Marcus had stopped asking him to meet up after his matches almost a year ago. It had only been in the last few months that he stopped letting him know where he went.
Hurt by the callousness, Draco lashed out at Marcus, "Sorry I don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of clueless meatheads. Gods, I wish I could be like you! I wish I hadn't watched my family be tortured at the hands of a mad man. I wish I had been flying broomsticks around empty fields, instead of throwing curses at people I'd had Potions class with for seven years!"
Pushing back from the table Marcus reacted. "Don't blame me for finding a way out! I can't keep paying for not taking part in something you wish you hadn't had to!" Stalking down the hallway and out the front door, Marcus left Draco standing at the kitchen table. Sitting back down at his barely touched meal Draco wondered where Marcus was going, and how long he would stay away this time.
~o0o~
Something inside Draco had been broken a long time ago. In the beginning with Marcus it was as if all the pieces had fallen back into place. They'd always worked so well together, but then life happened. Draco knew he was drinking too much, and after one particularly embarrassing night he spent yelling at every ref in the sky and fan in the crowd, Marcus asked him to stop going to the matches. Then they attended group sessions at St. Mungo's, but stopped after a few months when nothing had changed at home.
Glancing at the clock Draco couldn't believe it was already well past eight; he only needed to make it a few more hours. He just needed to make it to 12:01 to survive the worst day of his life.
~o0o~
Draco came home from work that evening and knew immediately something wasn't right. Suddenly, the report he had been working on did not feel that important. Standing in front of the study, he's hit with the smell of barely tethered core magic and a hint of Firewhiskey. Based on what little was left in the bottle of the good stuff, Marcus had been at it a while. He was pacing back and forth in front of the sofa, wavy hair disheveled, and eyes rimmed in red. Draco didn't know if the last was from anger, sadness, or the Firewhiskey; not once during their recent all out rows had he seen Marcus look this bad. His first instinct was to run over and hold the wizard, but restrained himself. Determined to get this over with, he took a deep breath and looked Marcus in the eye as he walked in to the study.
"I can't keep going around with this. What happened to the little shit that stood up to me on the pitch during Third Year when I told him he wasn't cut out to be a Seeker? What happened to the man who strolled up to me at Pendulum to tell me in no uncertain terms that I would be going home with him? Or the man who told both our parents to shove their concerns right up their arses when we told them we were getting married?" Draco knew what was coming, as though he had scripted this before Marcus even opened his mouth. Still, he stood there frozen, fear choking him. He didn't know what to say even if he would have been able to. Reliving the same fight they'd been having for the last six months. But this time it felt different. This time it felt final.
"It's been ten years since Hogwarts for Salazar's sake. I'm not telling you to get over it Draco, but I can't keep holding you up. You need to do it for yourself. Where is the strong, confident man I fell in love with?" Marcus pulled his hands through his hair. His magic crackled, seeking an outlet. "I've run out of excuses to use when people ask where you are. Frankly, I don't even know myself. Where are you, Draco? You aren't here. In this marriage. In our bed. Damn it, I don't even feel like you are part of this conversation!"
He had to say something, anything, hoping to keep him there. Once he left, Draco was sure Marcus was not coming back. "I… I just. I do love you. There is just, this part of me that was ripped open, and I don't know if it ever really healed. I'm not the only one who's changed. You want to know where I am? I want to know where you go. You go to practice, and your matches, and disappear for hours. Slinking back into bed without explanation. I'm not enough for you, I'm not sure I'll ever be enough for anyone" Frustrated with himself Draco looked down at his hands, twisting the simple platinum band on the fourth finger of his left hand.
Taking a deep breath, Marcus pushed through. "I can't stay here while you bleed out. I just can't anymore, Draco. I love you, but I can't be what you need me to be. I am going to stay at Finn's for a while. I can't be here. It hurts too much, to see you giving up." Marcus turned and walked out the door, calmly putting the final nail in the coffin of their marriage. Draco watched him walk out of the house. They had both begged the other to change, but neither could find a way to save what could have been a beautiful life.
~o0o~
Draco didn't know how he was going to live one more day in the house he used to share with him. How he was going to do anything again. He'd already gone through old spell books from Malfoy Manor looking for a way to forget Marcus; until he realized he didn't want to forget Marcus. He wanted to forget the War. He wanted to forget the smell of blood, and what someone's last breath sounded like. To not know the sight of his mother being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse almost to the point of insanity would be welcome. He wanted to forget the acrid taste left in his mouth after casting a particularly potent unforgivable, and how it felt to be hit by a curse, not knowing if it was the one he wouldn't get up from.
This was worse than all of them, though: having had everything in one man, and not being able to hold onto him. The final divorce decree stared up at him from the desktop- yet another reminder of his failure. All Draco wanted to do then was to forget the hole left in his soul. There was only one foolproof way he knew how. He pulled the emergency bottle of Firewhiskey from the bottom drawer, poured two fingers into a tumbler and knocked it back. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.