True Gryffindor Bravery
(By Crazy4Moony)
Don't Own A Thing. Except for the story, of course ;)
Meeting like this was not wise. This was like handing Hitler a gun and stuffing him in a room full of Jews. It was asking for trouble. No good. A catastrophe. I meet your eyes and the realisation, of just how bad this is, hits me. This is immensely bad.
The meeting, unexpected as it is, draws attention immediately. Trust the nice shoppers from Diagon alley to notice that we're in the same street. What can I say? Everyone knows you, everyone knows me, they all know us, and they all believed us when we said we hated each other. Yes. That had been our first mistake, hadn't it?
"I hate you Malfoy!" Your shout still echoes in my ears.
Leave it to you to be emotional unstable. You've always been a PMSing bitch when it came down to it. Not one ounce control over your own feelings and outbursts. Typically you.
"I'm sure you do." I didn't return the favour of rational emotions flowing around. I'm not like you. My emotions are not on line here. Yours are. Always have been. I'm perfectly cold. It's a Malfoy thing, I suppose. Only you know me. When the lights are off, I let you see me. Only you need to be all of me. And that's good enough. No 'I hate you!'s will lustlessly flow from my lips, thank you. This would have to do. This would have to do. Your stare of utter confusion was so worth it.
Your mudblood wife is clinging to your arm, and for a second she doesn't get why the people surrounding you have gone quiet. They're all wondering if we're gonna fight, here, now, in public. The fools. I want you to be all mine but it's too late for that. Your gaze holds mine and she finally realises who caught your undivided attention. Me. I'm pleased to see that she's not happy.
When the door opens briskly we spring apart as if the heat radiating between us is suddenly scalding, too much to bear. In a flowing motion a fist connects with my jaw and I realise, for the umpth-time, how wrong it all is. Her cheeks are as red as her hair, anger or just having run a mile, I couldn't tell. My face was on fire, and it wasn't because we'd just been caught. It was because I knew that it would never matter how many times you gave me blissful 'I love you's, because, in the end, we'd always be a secret. You'd always be doing her.
Your earlier look of lust turned into one of fake-hate. One she'd surely buy. I said nothing and left the broom closet. Why I kept on coming back, was unknown, even to me. We couldn't be. Never.
In that one moment where time is completely still and no one even breathes, I remember how soft your skin under mine used to feel. How right the world was when our lips touched. How I used to make you sweat and pant and moan. How good it felt to make you writhe and scream for more and… yes.
And then the moment is gone, and we're moving, but people are still staring. I have my nine-months-old son in my arms, and you're pushing the pram holding yours. You lightly shake of your wife's arm, and I know in that moment that my life is ending as I know it. Whatever happens next, I will always have the image of you, leaving her, to be closer to me, in my head. I was able to breathe without you there. But what I had without you, wasn't really a life. It was the conception of one. Just a lie.
"I don't really belong in Gryffindor," you stated once, your head on my chest. The sheets were damp and we both reeked of boyish love. No matter how much we did this, I would never get enough of simply being one with you. "If I would, I'd be brave enough to really be with you."
With heartache, I realise just how right you are. I don't tell you though. I shush you, and fuck you until we both can barely move. At least this way your words won't shatter me anymore. Because they do. Over and over and over again.
When we cross each other in the hallway the next day, you fake-limp, for a second. I laugh aloud, but no one gets the privet joke.
Once, when I'd really given you a limp, (by accident, of course) and Sirius told you to bloody suck it up already, you yelled: "you're not the one getting buttfucked by Lucius Malfoy, so shut up!" and when he looked surprised, you continued: "right… didn't tell you yet… I'm sort of in love with a guy."
Mind you, it's not because your best friend knew, that everyone else did. No. The secret was kept between the six of us. (You, me, Sirius, Severus, Remus and Regulus.) It never spread. You couldn't have that. You were seeing the redhead. It would ruin the future your father had so carefully mapped out for you.
You keep on pushing that darn baby, coming closer with every step you take. You're not thinking rational, I can tell. She's questioning your actions, and I say nothing. The world is quiet once more, but it doesn't stop moving. Time is not still. We just are.
Your baby's named Harry. Mine's Draco. No one needs to know that my favourite uncle's name was Harry. There aren't that much people alive that know your grandfather was called Draco.
When I leave your house for the last time, I keep on my mask and say: "it's not what you think." After I revealed my son's name. You tell me you called yours Harry, and it's exactly what I think. Honesty. But no. That's just you.
Now you are way to close and I can barely breathe. I shift Draco to my other hip. I prefer having him in my arms. Closer. Safer. My eyes beg for you to resist me. But you glance down at Harry once, before you abandon the buggy, keeping it in place with one hand, and stalk even closer. I can inhale your scent, and it's what I've always needed to get through the day.
"I have something to tell you," you say. You don't whisper, and everyone listens carefully. Your wife shuts up as soon as you open your mouth. Thank Merlin the woman is sensible enough not to call out for you again. I expect an other one of your wasted 'I hate you's. None come. There's a whole, everlasting second of silence. "I'm a real Gryffindor now."
It's a statement that makes me want to laugh. I want to mock you. Shout at you for fucking it over. I had been able to breathe without you. But now you were too bloody close, and you were me again. So real. And I realise it's not a privet joke, but no one gets it anyway.
"You are way too tall," you state, and stand on tiptoes to kiss me. "I always have to reach up."
But now I reach down, and it's just as blissful as it's always been. In the second that your lips are upon mine, we're one and whole galaxies are ending. Shit. I've missed this more then I'll ever admit.
When we part, I can distinguish your wife, looking shell-shocked and a bit grossed out. Angry, rumoury whispers spread immediately.
"Good," I say. "Because I won't let go of you go again."
You stand on tiptoes, like you always used to. And our whole bodies kiss, my son almost being squished between us. Ah well. From the giggle he releases I can tell he doesn't mind your presence that much. So it's all okay with me. Even if we're mismatched and don't fit at all, and people are already whispering we wont last. I don't give a fuck about what they say. As long as you kiss me for ever. I'll be just fine.
(Needless to say: we lasted. Just not how everyone wanted us to.)
AN: Please review! It's a oneshot... but, who knows... might turn into more if I get enough reviews! See, I was sick of the sombre fics about them, because we know they don't end up together, so I just decided to disagree! Review Please!!!