This is for Sam (MissingMommy) for GGE.
Sam: I wanted to do a different pairing for you, because last year I did CharlieDraco, but this plot bunny was like 'yo, write me' and who am I to fight against the whim of sassy plot bunnies? You can tell I had fun with this and I can only hope you have at least half that fun when reading it. It certainly was a pleasure.
Thanks to Jess (autumn midnights) and TrisanaChandler13 for beta-reading this!
A Cup of Tea
First realization of the morning: He wasn't in his room.
Okay, don't panic. He could hear someone breathing against his ear. While his nose was cold as ice, his whole body was warm - as should be expected, because there was soft skin pressed against him and a pair of arms holding him from behind.
Second realization of the morning: The person sleeping beside him wasn't his fiancée.
He was always the one holding Astoria, for she was a tiny little thing that barely occupied any room in his bed. Upon realizing that, he knew he should've felt remorse. But Draco couldn't feel remorse, because he wasn't used to being held.
And he quite liked being held.
He forced himself to open his eyes, slowly but surely, so as to get adjusted to the light. His gaze fell upon a window that let the grim morning light of London seep through. On the nightstand, he could see a small book and a big… thing that he'd never seen before in his life.
Merlin, am I in a Muggle room? Did I sleep with a Muggle? But it made no sense – the event he'd attended was a Ministry event. It couldn't have possibly been a Muggle woman. Hell, Draco didn't even remember talking to any woman during the event, which struck him as odd. He wasn't used to drinking at all, but he'd only had one or two glasses of wine, for Merlin's sake. He should remember.
Third realization of the morning: He actually did remember everything.
He felt wide awake just then, all the morning disorientation washing away from his system as if he'd been thrown into the Black Lake in the dead of winter. He remembered, but he wished he didn't. He remembered that one man and he felt pain in his lower body, as if someone had…
And the chest against his back was completely flat…
And the arms around him were perfectly strong…
His throat felt dry all of a sudden, so he swallowed hard and slowly – very, very slowly - he turned around.
The sight that welcomed him was of freckles, scars, and red hair. Add to the mix a few muscles and masculine features, and the result was – as he'd dreaded - one Charlie Weasley.
Oh, he remembered. He remembered the ginger man, and the banter, and the kisses, and how undeniably good it had felt to lose control-
Draco shuddered, closing his eyes. It was bad enough that it was a man, but that man was a Weasley. And Draco didn't know what was worse – what they'd done, the fact that he didn't oppose the situation, or the fact that he liked it. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring into twinkling blue eyes and an enormous grin, the key ingredients to that strangely appealing mixture that was all of Charlie Weasley.
Draco froze as Weasley stretched his arms. He didn't freeze as in 'lay there in utter shock', though that was also true to a degree. Draco froze as in 'felt a sudden wave of cold due to the loss of a warm embrace,' which made him realize that he'd made no effort to break apart from Weasley. But that wasn't the point.
It's cold in here, anyway.
"Good morning," Weasley said. "How did you sleep?"
The sleepy strain in his voice carried all the nonchalance Draco himself didn't feel. No. No one should be this casual after sleeping with a stranger. Draco wouldn't allow it.
"Fuck you, Weasley." There.
"It was the other way around, actually."
Draco certainly wouldn't allow such behaviour, but first, he had to do something about the fact that he'd blushed in a few different shades of red.
"You - you took advantage of me."
"Really?" Weasley was now propped up on an elbow, looking at him with what seemed like amusement. "I did?"
Draco wanted to think he had. After all, Weasley had made the first movel. Weasley had made him laugh and had suggested they should get out of that boring Ministry event and have some fun. But Draco hadn't opposed the thought that he barely knew anyone there, no one would even see him leave, and there was this man he'd barely seen before and would probably never see again…
Why now, of all times? He'd been more than happy dating just women – especially one as stunning as Astoria - and ignoring that men were even a thing. He wasn't ready for this. He wanted to tell Weasley that he'd been drunk. But deep down, he knew he hadn't been drinking enough to impair his judgment. He wasn't one to make a fool of himself in a social gathering, after all.
So maybe he'd drunk just so he'd have an excuse to be charmed by this stranger. And he's a blood-traitor. He'd gotten used to working with Muggle-borns and trying to get rid of the stain in his reputation that came from the ideals that broke his family. But sleeping with a blood-traitor was a whole different level.
"You- you-" But words didn't come out. The facts were so obvious that he couldn't even attempt to deny them to himself.
"You remember last night, don't you?"
Draco didn't quite know what to say. If he denied it, Weasley would probably feel compelled to try and refresh his memory. But he would've been more than glad to pretend he didn't, in fact, remember well enough. He would've been more than glad to stick to the version he wanted to believe, which would've been easier to explain.
What would my father say if he knew? And Astoria- …well, good thing they weren't going to find out. He could make up a good lie later.
"No one can know about this," he said.
"A gentleman has no memory."
"Yes. Exactly." A wave of relief washed over Draco, and he allowed himself to smile. "Good."
"Of course, if you want to go get some breakfast-"
Draco's smile faded. "Don't."
"Pity. I'm hungry. Care for some tea, then?"
Draco was too taken aback to answer. It didn't look like it bothered Weasley at all, who was quick to jump out of bed. But he wasn't as quick in searching the floor for his discarded underwear – or at least, that's what Draco assumed he was doing.
When he bothered to look, he realized that a still-naked Weasley had filled a strange container with water –a Muggle sort of kettle, surely - and set it to boil. They were, after all, in a Muggle hotel room: a place in which kettles were tied to the wall by a cord and the thing to have in the wall facing the bed was a weird black box. He forced himself to look away from those eccentricities and his gaze fell onto Weasley, who was getting dressed in an absent-minded fashion.
I'm not staring. I'm not staring. Not. Staring. Except that he totally was. Well, if he'd slept with that man, he should at least make sure he was attractive. Sure, part of him wanted to deny the man's good looks because he was a Weasley, because he was a man, and just because. Another part of him wanted the validation that came with sleeping with a good-looking person.
But the most prominent part of him was too busy staring.
"So, tea?" Draco shrugged, quickly gazing away. Might as well. "How many sugars?"
I actually have to say something now. "Er- none."
Weasley seemed to be the one with all the composure – yes, all of it, because none was left for Draco. And Draco had many reasons to feel that way - mainly that Weasley was out-and-about fully dressed while he was still naked in bed. He hoped that the way in which he rolled out of bed and hastily threw his dress robes on was, at least, a little bit dignified. But the smirk he received in return gave him the nagging feeling that, well, maybe not so much.
He wanted to look at himself in a mirror and make himself presentable. He glanced at Weasley, and then made his way to the only two doors in that room.
"The loo is to your right," Weasley said.
Wordlessly, Draco walked in. The place was clean and empty, with only a few products of personal hygiene lying around.
Would it be too rude to take a shower? But he decided against it; he would get home and get cleaned up properly. It meant nothing if he had to wear yesterday's crumpled dress robes. He still washed his face and fixed his robes as best as he could.
When he walked out, he noticed Weasley pouring hot water in two small mugs.
"There you go." Weasley handed him one of them. Draco brought the cup to his lips, but quickly realized it was too hot to drink, so he returned to the side of the bed he'd slept in and placed it on the nightstand. Weasley imitated him, but kept his mug between his hands, seemingly unbothered by the heat.
And silence set in.
What can I say? He was at odds with such a quiet atmosphere, for it was letting him hear his own thoughts. In contrast, Weasley seemed to be comfortable with the lack of sound. He acted as if the situation was entirely normal, as if he did that exact same thing often.
Yes, he definitely does this often. None of the women Draco had gone out with had touched him so expertly. No one before had been able to discover what he wanted and how. No one had managed to make him lose his head. Merlin, he hadn't even tried to prevent Weasley from topping.
Not for the first time, a reddish tone prickled his cheeks. He was certainly embarrassed, but he wasn't sure if showing modesty would help his situation more than keeping his cool.
Just say something.
"So you're gay." Anything but that, idiot.
"Yeah, and what exactly does this make you?"
"I'm not gay." Weasley's only response was to roll his eyes. "I have a girlfriend," Draco insisted.
Well, that only makes it worse. Great job, Draco. Keep your mouth shut next time.
"Gay and unfaithful." Weasley seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Pity I didn't know - could've suggested a threesome."
"For Merlin's sake, Weasley-"
"Better a threesome than infidelity, isn't it?"
Once again, he found himself trying to think of a rebuttal to Weasley's words, but he found none. He had a point.
Why did I cheat anyway? He didn't feel dissatisfied with his life or his relationship, after all. He hadn't been driven to the point of desperation, nor had he ever fought with Astoria badly enough to make him want revenge.
Draco wanted to think he loved her.
And yet, he could've refused Weasley's advances; he didn't know if the result of this compliance was caused by apathy or curiosity. There had been certainly a thrill that came with doing something - someone - forbidden, but he'd never been one to seek such thrills. Perhaps it was apathy, then, and he just couldn't care less about his own deeds as long as no one found out about them.
That sounded right. It was Malfoy enough of him.
"What about you?" He only wanted to stop talking, thinking about himself.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't you have anyone to come home to?"
"I have Joia." Weasley sipped from his tea before clarifying. "She's the most beautiful dragon you'll ever see – a glorious Hebridean Black." He chuckled. "She's my lady."
"Of all things, I never thought a Weasley would admit to bestiality. That's weird, even for you."
Weasley laughed. "She wants to be just friends, though."
There. That was it. It was the same feeling of amusement he'd dealt with the previous night; the one that had made him think going home with Charlie Weasley was a sound idea.
"So, no girlfriend?" And just why did he find that so hard to believe?
"I think it was clear I'm into men." Yeah, well. That one was kind of obvious. "No boyfriend, anyway. No infidelity for me."
"Come on, Weasley." Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you didn't have fun just because I cheated on my girlfriend."
Once again, he'd managed to make Weasley laugh. It was confusing, but Draco felt a slight dash of pride nonetheless.
"I can't say I didn't," Weasley said, a grin still clinging onto his face. "So this was your first time with a man?" Draco couldn't possibly answer that. Saying yes denoted promiscuity and saying no denoted innocence. He wanted to be viewed as neither. "Oh, I shouldn't even ask. I could tell. But you were fantastic."
All he wanted was for Weasley to shut up. Except that the sense of pride was getting even bigger.
"Shut up," he said anyway.
"You could tell me I was amazing too… but don't worry, I could tell that as well."
Shut. Up.
He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to remember the feeling of rough hands caressing his skin and those ever-smiling lips kissing just the right places to send shivers up and down his body. No, he didn't want to remember. Remembering was making him want to repeat it all over again, against all odds, against his principles, against his will.
It's not against my will if I want it. No, he didn't want it. Not at all.
Partly because he was still in pain. If he knew it was my first time, he shouldn't have been this rough.
"Everything okay?"
"Weasley…" He wanted to say something menacing, but he reckoned it wouldn't work.
"You can call me Charlie."
"I can also call you Weasley."
Weasley didn't have a quip this time and instead was sporting a sudden frown.
"You know," he said, "you never did tell me your name."
Wait, what?
"Don't you know?"
"No clue."
Saying that Draco was utterly shocked would be an understatement. He had just slept with a blood-traitor and enjoyed it thoroughly, yet nothing had made him question his position more than the fact that bloody Charlie Weasley didn't even know who he was.
But he was even more stunned to discover that he didn't feel slighted. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe that whole situation was a sign that he was headed in the right direction. There was this man that was asking him to introduce himself, offering him that opportunity of a new beginning, a blank page, a needle and thread to start patching the tears that remained.
For the first time of his life, he thought it advantageous that someone didn't know who he was. Advantageous and confusing. All of it was confusing, really.
He cleared his throat, aware that he'd been quiet for too long.
"Malfoy," he said. "Draco Malfoy."
"Oh." For a second there, Draco was terrified and he didn't know why. Then Charlie sighed with a half-smirk and that fear vanished just as quickly. "A Malfoy sleeping with a Weasley… Times have really changed, now haven't they?"
"Consider yourself lucky."
"I consider myself successful. I obviously succeeded on my endeavours. Lucky would've been that threesome."
Only a Weasley could allude to the inherent wickedness of a one-night stand without a hint of shame. He could mention Draco's infidelity without making him feel judged. All of it with that grin that rarely left his face and a good nature that contrasted slightly with the circumstances.
He took his forgotten mug and took a gulp. He wished it was Firewhisky and it would burn his throat; he wished things were clear and he wasn't so unnervingly cosy in the situation he was in.
I shouldn't be okay with any of this. But he was.
He drank the rest of the tea in silence, not thinking for a second to fill the air with senseless chit-chat. He felt that everything had been said. And it was all fine and dandy until both mugs were empty.
What now?
The sensible thing to do was to leave. Weasley seemed to have enough manners not to kick him out, but there was nothing else for him to do there. He was afraid he was overstaying his welcome.
"I should get going."
Weasley said nothing as Draco put on his shoes. He simply got up and fixed his robes, walking toward the door with a blank expression on his face. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, Draco followed him. He wished he could just Disapparate, but that would've been rude. It would also been sudden, which would've been better. Such a slow goodbye was filling him with an unwelcome sense of finality. Then again, finality was the only thing that made sense.
"This can't happen again," he said, more to himself than to the other man.
"Draco, you've got a partner and I've got a job a few thousand miles away. What makes you think I'm under the delusion this could possibly happen again?"
Something in the wording and tone of Weasley's words struck Draco as odd. "So you would want it to?" And why did that make him feel so smug?
Weasley didn't offer an answer. It came across as neither a confirmation nor a denial - he just held the door open as he smiled.
"If I could, Draco, I'd kiss you goodbye… if only to give you something to remember me by."
What's stopping you, then? It was probably the knowledge that he had a girlfriend. Damn Gryffindors and their sense of honor – the deed was done, one kiss wouldn't certainly make it worse…
But he didn't voice his thoughts. He couldn't admit just how badly he wanted it.
"I'll remember," Draco whispered. Only after he spoke did he realize how much his words betrayed. But he couldn't help it, for there was this man that had managed to see the very worst of him within twelve hours – and he still wanted him.
"Goodbye, Draco," Weasley said. "It was a pleasure."
Draco didn't want to smile, but that was exactly what he did. It had been a pleasure indeed. He treaded toward the door, but just as he was about to cross the doorway, he stopped and turned around, letting his gaze find its way to those blue eyes he couldn't get enough of.
"Forgot something?" Weasley asked. The concerned look on this face made the situation even more difficult to handle.
Yes, there were many things Draco seemed to have forgotten, but there was one thing he couldn't get out of his mind: he would be sorry if he let Charlie Weasley walk out of his life just as suddenly as he'd walked in.
"Breakfast, you said?"