Scheherazade
ACT ONE
Summary: A tale of abuse, hidden relationships and reconciliation. When you've lost all inspiration, who will be the one to help you tell your story? A Draco/Harry Romance. Slash. Post-War. Includes HBP canon.
Disclaimer (applies to all chapters prior and future): All characters and situations based on the world of Harry Potter are the strict property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to anything that is not of my own invention. No copyright infringement is intended.
AN: I would also like to thank those few who took the time to review the first chapter. I really appreciate the constructive criticism...now, if only the legions of you who tagged yourselves for alerts would be so kind to leave me a smidget of something! It really does make my night.
---------
CHAPTER ONE
Set Some Years Later…
---
SCENE I: In The Name of Indifference
Draco Malfoy had always been in love with the idea of being in love. So, if one was being completely fair, it was only honest to say he'd been in the throws of passion for his entire life.
The idea of love initially seemed simple to Draco. He knew the feeling he wanted to achieve and the sort of ardor he wanted to invoke. The only thing he needed to complete his ideal was a partner, which did not seem all that difficult. Both women and men flocked to his side quite regularly and he was content to entertain both. That, though, was the precise problem. Draco only ever entertained. He was never the one to be wooed.
Every one of Draco's relationships followed the same arc. A physical attraction would pull him to his conquest. An initial meeting would spark wining, dining and bedding respectively. Presents and play would abound for a few weeks and then, then Draco would get bored.
The person he thought could be the one for him, the one that he had spent abundant amounts of time and money on, would switch from being infallible and become a mere human. Hair that used to seem golden would fade to yellow. Eyes that had sparkled would dim. A wit that had seemed unconquerable would be outsmarted.
Two years of the same situation had left Draco disillusioned.
That was, however, until he met Bernice. Bernice who could dance on her toes, speak Italian and recite Shakespeare. A glorious girl who came up to Draco's chin and fit perfectly against his body. Someone who played with Draco, laughed with Draco and inspired Draco. The type of person he had almost given up on finding.
Of course, she had her flaws. She was an animal lover and had insisted that Draco buy a kitten to mark the day she moved into his flat. The kitten was a scruffy thing; a black and white monstrosity with a rapidly swelling stomach. At first Draco had panicked at the bulge, afraid that some brutal beast had knocked up his new companion. That was until he remembered that she was fixed. Now he just suspected that she had some sort of glandular disorder that made her prone to plumpness.
Bernice also liked to drink white wine. Draco despised the stuff, but Bernice, Bernice soaked it up like a sponge. She would come home after dancing at her studio all day and pour a glass, twirl it around, take a few sips and then approach Draco, wanting to kiss and cuddle and screw. For his part, Draco was all up for following along, but he oftentimes wished that his passions did not have to coincide with the taste of white wine on Bernice's tongue.
Despite her quirks, Draco had fallen into what he was almost positive was love with her. It was a feeling that only intensified in moments like the one that had just been presented to him.
Draco smiled at the handsome greeter who removed his overcoat for him and gazed happily across the restaurant to where Bernice was already seated with her back towards the entrance. He slipped the greeter a small fold of paper bills in thanks and walked quietly across the restaurant, stooping to kiss Bernice's neck in lieu of a hello.
"I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to wait all night for you to show," she beamed at Draco as he moved around the table, pulled out his seat and settled himself across from her.
"I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I got caught up reading the script one last time."
"Nervous for tomorrow?"
"A tad," Draco replied.
"You've worked hard. I'm sure you'll be fine. Now, read the menu. The server's waiting to take our order."
Draco looked over Bernice's shoulder and noticed that the server was indeed hovering in the background, obviously anxious to get their orders off.
"No need. I've been here enough times to know what's good," he replied, waving the server over.
As Draco ordered the duck and Bernice the chicken he could not help but analyze the woman sitting across from him. She was by far the most beautiful creature he had ever been with. Her skin was pale, her arms and nose lightly dusted with freckles and hair the color of rust. Draco's favorite part of Bernice was her eyes. They were ordinary hazel, blue and green, with nothing else special that distinguished them, but they were the type of eyes that told a story. Draco could look into Bernice's eyes and see how she had broken her arm in primary school, how her first love had broken her heart at sixteen and how she wished she had had the brains to become a muggle healer. He watched, captivated, as her fingers tucked a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear.
She smiled at him then, cocked her head to the side, and said, "have I gotten something on my face?" She rubbed her nose self-consciously and a faint red tinged her cheeks.
"No," Draco assured her, "no, I was just admiring you."
"Oh."
She seemed quite pleased with his response.
"Is that a new dress? It's lovely," Draco complimented.
"No, it was my mothers."
Bernice smiled once more at the compliment and adjusted the laced collar of her black cocktail dress.
"You know how vintage is in vogue at the moment."
"Of course." Was it really? Draco looked down at his brand new suit and frowned. "Tell me about your day," Draco muttered as he fumbled with his cufflink…was it too shiny?
"It was, I don't know, just a normal day. My form was a bit off this morning, but come afternoon I was back to my usual self. I've also been thinking about taking up teaching down at Isabel's dance studio on Wednesday evenings."
Draco's head nodded along with the crescendo of Bernice's voice as he let his eyes roam off his suit and around the restaurant. An elderly couple sat in the far corner, canoodling, most likely celebrating some anniversary or another. Two men in business suits passed papers across the table to each other. Another pair of men leaned in close together, their faces hidden from view, and their ankles linked under the table. A middle-aged woman and a younger looking version of herself chatted easily in quiet tones.
"Of course rehearsal has been more intense than usual, especially for me since I have the lead and all, but I'm sure you know how that feels by now, right Draco?"
"Right. You get used to it. Don't you love the ambiance of this place?" It really was quite a nice establishment. Very mod. Or, at least, that's what the write up in the paper had said. It was not very vintage, though.
"It's all right, but like I was saying, it's so stressful. I mean, I have to tell a story through dance. I don't get to use any words. All I get are leaps and twirls."
"But you're good at leaping and twirling," Draco pointed out what to him seemed quite obvious.
"So? How am I going to know whether or not I'm getting my point across to the audience?" Bernice sounded frustrated with his lack of comprehension.
Draco tried not to smile at her distress. Bernice's nerves had obviously been eating at her for sometime now and his interest in her day had been the nudge she had needed to pour out her insecurities. Poor dear.
"Listen, Bernice, darling, what you're feeling is perfectly normal. No performer ever knows if they're getting their story across. It doesn't matter what your medium is. I never have any idea if anyone in the audience is connecting with my performance during a show and I get to use words."
"But – "
"No. That's all I want to hear of it." Draco interrupted gently and leaned forward to rub a hand down Bernice's cheek. "You have the jitters and you're talking yourself into a tizzy. Just have faith in your abilities. They wouldn't have cast you as Clara if they didn't think you could handle it."
"You're awfully good at this whole comforting business, did you know that?"
"It's been mentioned before, yes," Draco purred, running his hand down Bernice's face once more before pulling away at the sight of the server returning with their supper.
Bernice's eyes turned coy as she cleared her handbag off the table and nodded politely at the server as he set down her plate. The server smiled back at her in a way that Draco felt was thoroughly inappropriate.
The conversation following the arrival of the food was much more pleasant in Draco's humble opinion. Bernice brought up the question of where the pair would spend the Christmas Hols. Draco had a disturbing feeling that his admittance of not yet having thought of plans might mean a weekend spent with Bernice's parents in upstate New York. If she brought up the idea he would have to subtly squash it. Draco did not do parents.
Other points of discussion had detailed the weather, the food, sex and the philosophy of parking meters and fortune cookies.
"Do you want dessert?" Bernice asked as a busboy cleared the table.
Before Draco could answer a crash across the restaurant sent him jumping in his seat. The sound of clattering china sounded next to him as the busboy fumbled with the dishes along with the muffled shrieks of some of the women in the room, Bernice included.
Draco itched to pull his wand out of his jacket pocket, but instead swiveled his head towards the source of the disturbance, not wanting to explain to his girlfriend why he had decided to brandish a piece of wood in the middle of a posh restaurant.
What Draco saw when he turned towards the noise made his supper turn over in his stomach. The source of the disturbance had come from the table that had previously held the two men with the linked ankles. Now, however, the sandy haired of the pair had his forehead resting in the palm of his right hand, while the other man clumsily re-arranged the fallen table centerpiece. Draco knew that messy jet black hair. He remembered those vivid green eyes centered below a jagged red scar. His nightmares from the war oftentimes recalled that husky voice that now was muttering apologies to the restaurant staff that had hurried over to help clear up.
"Oh my," Bernice breathed, putting a hand to her chest. "He must be embarrassed."
"Bernice, grab your bag, we need to leave." Draco demanded, raising a hand to call over their server.
"Draco? What's wrong?" She looked nervous, but pulled her bronze clutch off the table and onto her lap all the same.
"Not now Bernice," Draco snapped. "Check. Now," He barked as soon as the server made it to the table.
"Draco, what's gotten into you?" Bernice spoke quietly, but Draco noticed the undercurrent of tension in her tone.
He ignored it as the server returned.
"I'll explain it to you later." Draco did not look up as he signed the check off with a flourish.
"Draco – "
Draco leaned close to Bernice and talked quietly, "I need you to get up from the table and walk as unobtrusively as you can to the door. I know this doesn't make sense to you right now, but please wait until we get outside to be upset with me. Can you do that?"
She nodded and pushed her seat back.
"That's my girl."
The small comment seemed to settle her and she reached her arm out to Draco who linked it with his own. He steered them around the far walls of the room, behind potted plants and their fellow patrons. Once they reached the front door Draco shrugged his coat on hastily and turned to help Bernice into her own jacket.
The pair practically jogged out of the building once they were dressed for the elements. It still was not fast enough for Draco.
The October night was crisp and cool. As Draco hailed a cab he watched Bernice's hair whip in her face. Her eyes had taken on the lost puppy look she seemed to adopt whenever she felt uncomfortable. For some reason, seeing Bernice upset made Draco angry at her.
She made it quite clear that she in turn was viciously upset with the way Draco had acted back in the restaurant. When Draco opened the cab door for her she brushed past him, bumping her shoulder roughly against his as she lowered herself into the vehicle.
The ride home was tense. The elevator trip to their penthouse was even tenser.
"Are you ever going to talk to me?" Draco asked roughly the second they had entered their flat and shut the door.
"I'm taking a shower." Bernice's voice was distant and guarded as she set her clutch on the counter, her back to Draco the entire time.
Draco knew what that meant. It was the line she used whenever she did not want to be around him. She would lock herself in the customized marble bathroom, pour herself a steaming, bubbling bath and play crooning love ballads on the radio to drown him out while he tried to talk to her through the door.
Draco supposed it could be considered another one of her flaws.
"That won't solve anything. We're obviously both agitated right now and we just need – "
"Draco," she cut him off, "Sophie's out of food."
"What?"
"I said, Sophie's out of food."
"How is that in any way relevant to our current situation?"
"Draco, the way I see it, at least someone in this house should be able to finish a meal without getting pulled out of the nicest restaurant in the entire city." Her eyes, those common hazel eyes, smoldered as she advanced further down the hall towards the bathroom. "And right now I love that cat more than I love you. So, if you ever want me to speak to you ever again for God's sake go out and buy some food for her. She doesn't deserve to starve just because you're being a prick."
It occurred to Draco during Bernice's tirade that he was more the victim than she in the whole situation. First, he had been made to listen to her complain. Second, he had seen Potter. And third, he was in trouble for reacting to seeing Potter. Where was the justice in all that?
"You are being so – so bloody irrational."
Bernice stopped in her progression down the hall, "Draco, do you even know what the word irrational means?"
"Of course I know what it means!"
"I'm seriously doubting that right now. Why don't you go look it up and then come back to me."
"Bernice, stop acting like this. Don't you want an explanation?" He really wanted her to jump on the explanation idea, because the fight had barely even started and he was already getting tired with it. She did not say anything. Instead she stood stock still staring him down. In an attempt to lighten the mood he quipped, "Can't we give the cat chicken tonight?"
"Of course, you probably know what rational means much better than I ever could," she continued on as if she had not even heard him "After all – out of the pair of us you're the one with the fancy English education. The one you won't ever even tell me anything about."
"Why are you – "
Her eyes were tearing now, "What is it Draco? Are you embarrassed by me or something? You do realize that this isn't the first time this has happened, don't you?"
"Bernice – "
"No, Draco, no. Do you know how it feels to be out with the man you love and all the sudden he spots something, or someone, that upsets him and he manhandles you out the door like a piece of meat? Are you cheating on me, is that it? Do you see her – or him – when we're out? Is that why we always have to leave?"
"Bernice, you don't understand."
"You're right! But tell me how I'm supposed to understand when you won't tell me anything about your past or where you slip off to every month or why the hell you always drag us out of public places?"
"Please – "
"No, I'm starting to really believe you're having an affair. You're having an affair, aren't you? Oh God, you are, aren't you? I can't believe I ever trusted you. How could you do this to me?"
"Bernice, you're being – "
"Don't you dare say irrational, Draco Malfoy. Do you understand me?"
"That wasn't what I was going to say," Draco said, holding up a hand and walking a few steps down the hall. "I promise that wasn't what I was going to say. I promise."
She sniffed, "then what were you going to say?"
"I was going to say that you're absolutely right." He hoped his voice sounded as honest as he thought it did.
"Draco?"
"Yes?"
"Just go get Sophie some food."
Draco watched as Bernice turned slowly and finished her walk down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.
He felt bloody miserable. She did have a point, of course. There had been a few other old faces he had seen in the city that had prompted Draco to remove himself and Bernice from the premises, but most of the times that Draco had made them vacate surrounded feelings. Every once in a while the pair would be somewhere and something about the entire situation would unsettle Draco and after all of his youth he knew those feelings should rarely ever be left to sit and that evacuation was the safest route. This time, however, she deserved to know the truth and he had made a right hash of things.
An affair, though, she really thought he was having an affair. The thought bugged him. Draco was a lot of unpleasant things, sure, but a cheater was not among them. Was that really the way she saw him? If that was the way she saw him then he supposed he could partially forfeit control for a bit and fetch the cat some food.
Draco shivered once he re-entered the cold autumn air. He pulled his wool overcoat tighter around his body. He should just be letting the cat starve itself; it would serve her right. No, that would be cruel. He had given up being cruel, or at least he was trying to give up being cruel. He was only human. If sometimes he succumbed to teensy urges detailing the squashing of a spider or yelling obscenities at his aging neighbors, well then, so be it.
He did not know where to buy cat food. That was normally Bernice's department. Besides, even if he did know where to go he was willing to bet a few golden galleons that the shops were not open this late in the evening.
Pausing, Draco shuffled into a darkened crevice between two sets of apartment buildings. Once he was sure no muggles were around, he apparated.
Draco wasted no time, upon arriving at his destination, with repeatedly ringing the bell to Pansy's apartment.
"What do you want?" Pansy muttered, answering the door a few moments later as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.
"Cat food?"
"Draco," Pansy sighed, "You are the saddest man I know."
"You'll never guess who I just saw." Draco blurted out, pushing his way into Pansy's apartment. He ignored her grumblings as she latched the door shut. When she had turned back around Draco looked at her expectantly.
"Who?" Pansy asked.
"Guess."
"No."
"Oh, you're no fun." Draco pouted, moving into the kitchen. "Do you have any Darjeeling?"
"No." Pansy yawned, following Draco who had already begun rifling through the kitchen. "Now who did you see?"
"Hmm?" Draco hummed, removing his head from the refrigerator that he was rifling through.
"Focus." Pansy snapped.
"Oh, yes," Draco said, removing a bottle of juice from the fridge. "I saw Potter."
"Potter?" Pansy laughed. "You saw Potter?"
Draco nodded.
"Who hexed who first?" Pansy asked with a look of glee in her eyes.
"No one hexed anyone, actually." Draco said as he poured out two glasses of juice. "He was at the same restaurant I took Bernice to. With another man. Did you know Potter was a fairy?"
"Draco, everybody knows Potter bats for the other team."
"What?"
"Everyone knows Potter's gay."
"I heard you the first time." Draco huffed. "How does everyone know?"
"He's rather a big deal around the world. When he shacks up with a man, or anyone for that matter, people pay attention." Pansy said lazily, smirking at Draco
"How do I not know this?"
"Well, if I recall correctly, you didn't even wait for the dust to settle after the war before you turned your back on Britain and pranced across the Channel. How could you have?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe from my so called friends," Draco said lightheartedly, his eyes betraying his true anger at being kept in the dark.
"Draco," Pansy said patiently, "when you left for the States you told us two things. First, under no circumstances were we to tell anyone where you were without prior permission. Second, you didn't want to hear about anything that had to do with your past without requesting to hear about it. Potter fancying blokes falls somewhere into that second category."
"Pansy, you know me well enough to tell when I'm being dramatic," Draco said slowly, as if talking to a small child. "When your best friend's former arch enemy starts buggering boys – you tell him."
"I don't even see why you care so much. I thought you'd made your peace with Potter." Pansy stated the knowledge calmly, leaning slowly against the counter top.
"I have," Draco said, "but you never know. I may change my mind one day. Blackmail is a powerful tool."
"It's not blackmail if it's already been published," Pansy reminded Draco fondly, moving to put her now empty glass into the sink. "Now, you have to leave."
"Excuse me?" Draco snapped superciliously. "I still need consoling. I got in a fight with Bernice, she's mad at me and I don't know what to do. I can't leave."
"Draco, it's late and I have to go to bed. I can't always solve your problems with Bernice for you."
"Pansy, I think she might leave me."
"Draco, if I know Bernice even the tiniest then she'll be sitting alone, waiting for you to come home. She'll feel bad about all that's happened and she'll want to talk it out. She's just that sort of person. Now take your cat food and go."
She pushed him out the door gently, promising that if in the morning he still could not fend for himself that he could come back and she would help. Feeling too lazy to Apparate Draco wandered down to the street corner and caught a taxi.
"Sam." Draco nodded at the doorman of his apartment building as he entered, receiving a grunt in return.
Draco barely paid any attention at all as he waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. Once the ding of the bell and the bright yellow light on the top of the entrance lit up signaling the elevator's arrival Draco wasted no time sidling into the metal contraption.
The trip to the top floor seemed to take longer than normal, but on that long trip Draco decided that Bernice deserved to know the truth. She really did. He would tell her all about it. Tonight. He would tell her tonight.
When Draco exited the elevator he wasted no time pushing his way into the sprawling entry way of the flat.
"Hello, Sophie," Draco murmured to the cat who was already rubbing against his leg, looking up at the canister he held in his hand longingly.
He let Sophie lead him through the sitting room and into the kitchen where, to Draco's mild surprise, Bernice stood, teary eyed, wringing her hands. Draco opened the canister wordlessly, set it on the floor and waited for Sophie to start before he met Bernice's eyes.
"Are you all right?" He asked quietly.
"I thought you wouldn't come back.
"I'm not cheating on you."
"I know," Bernice said, her voice small.
Draco sighed and walked forward, scooping Bernice into a bear hug, trying to communicate to her that it was all right to sound big.
"Bernice, love, I don't want you to ever think that I'm embarrassed by you. My past is just very confusing and I don't know if I can properly explain. I'll try to explain it to you, though, if you want to listen."
"I do."
"Come sit on the couch with me."
Bernice followed Draco to the couch in the sitting room. It was lavishly decorated like every other room in their flat was. Draco adored it. Bernice thought it looked tawdry.
Draco watched silently as Bernice curled under a throw blanket and rested her head on the side of the couch. Her eyes were completely fixated on Draco's.
"This is very, very confusing," Draco finally started.
Bernice nodded.
"I don't expect you to understand."
Bernice looked affronted.
"I'm not saying that you can't understand," Draco corrected himself, his voice growing softer to accompany the mood, "but I'm saying it might take a bit more faith than normal to understand."
"Okay," Bernice whispered.
"It might be best if you let me talk until the end and then ask questions later."
Bernice nodded and Draco took a steadying breath.
"Have you ever heard stories of people doing things that couldn't be explained by normal means?" Draco waited for a nod, which Bernice granted, before he continued. "I thought you would have. There's an explanation for those stories and there's really only one word that explains it. Magic, Bernice. It's magic."
"But – "
"I know you've been told your entire life that magic doesn't exist, but it does. It really does. And my family back in England was one of the purest lines of the magical community." He wasn't paying attention to her reactions. He was too busy trying to get his explanation out in a coherent manner.
"Draco – "
"No, Bernice. I'm not lying. I could even show you some magic. Would you like to see some?"
"No." Bernice's voice sounded small again.
"Bernice – "
"Draco, this is really weird. I don't like it."
"But you have to believe me," Draco pleaded, scooting forward and grasping Bernice's clammy hand in his warm one.
"Even if I did," she said carefully, slowly, "I don't want to be involved – it's wrong, Draco. It's wrong that you think that you can do magic."
"But I can – "
"Even if you can, it's not right. People don't do magic."
"But they do – "
"Draco, I'm going to go to bed now, all right? I want you to sleep out here tonight while I think." She was talking so quietly now that Draco could barely discern her words, but her body language said everything he needed to know.
"All right," Draco whispered, ashamed.
"I'm sorry, baby," Bernice said against his lips as she granted him a sliver of a kiss.
Draco watched as Bernice rose from the couch and walked quickly out of the room.
"I'm sorry too," he replied to the empty room.