This work is complete at 31 chapters and ~127,000 words. I'll be submitting a chapter a day through March until it's all up.
Chapter 18: Distance
If Dagmar thought she felt bad before, it was nothing compared to now. She didn't expect Draco to be happy with her train of thought, so if she was honest with herself, she didn't know why she expected any other outcome to their conversation.
Draco deserved better than this, which Dagmar was trying to give him by taking this time away. Dagmar wished she'd just gone to Nice without making a big stink, but she'd wanted to be open with him. She just didn't know her own mind well enough to convey it coherently. Hopefully after three weeks Dagmar would have her head back on right. She should have a solid idea of what she wanted going forward and be comfortable leaving the past behind.
She missed him, though. The rest of Dagmar's day felt empty without the anticipation of Draco's next letter arriving. She still kept an eye on the window as she packed her bags for Nice. She doubted Draco would send her anything. He didn't write in his messenger copy either. He'd gone silent, which—he was right. That's what Dagmar had asked for. It's also what she'd driven him to want.
Dagmar was at least learning so far that she could tentatively trust Draco on follow-through for his promises. He promised to deal with Pansy as soon as they came home from Bergen. He did, the same day. Draco promised not to push Dagmar's boundaries as to what she was physically comfortable with. He hadn't, even though Dagmar could tell he'd wanted to kiss her terribly leading up to when she'd finally taken the initiative. Now he promised to give her space, and regardless of his own interest in that, Dagmar believed Draco would've abided anyway.
Honourable wasn't a word Dagmar thought she would ever use to describe Draco Malfoy. Maybe he wasn't happy with her right now, but it was some consolation that Dagmar held his respect. She only hoped that still held on the other side of this crushing uncertainty.
Dagmar was definitely more concerned now about how things would go with Draco than how things had gone with Blaise. Why did Blaise care all of a sudden that they would no longer be married? Surely Dagmar was onto something with it being a knock at Blaise's pride, as if the caliber of their relationship simply didn't suit a marriage.
Did it, though? It had, when Dagmar hadn't known anything else would be possible. Given how vibrant and alive Dagmar felt with Draco, she wasn't sure she could've settled into the type of marriage Blaise was apparently comfortable with. She wanted to be loved passionately not comfortably, and Draco seemed more capable of that. He also proved more willing to receive it.
Still, Dagmar felt bad because she'd never made that known to Blaise. Had she, maybe things would've gone differently. Dagmar didn't know back then what she wanted, was the thing. Her experience was too limited. Rather than Dagmar and Blaise sticking to the comfortable parts of their relationship, they should've tried harder to find out what they wanted in other regards. For all Dagmar knew now, Blaise was not only willing but wanting to give her that.
Five years was a solid chunk of time to get to know somebody. Dagmar hadn't managed with Blaise. The two of them just weren't that close, and to try for more felt like they were forcing it. Dagmar had experienced something of a whirlwind with Draco for the last three weeks, and they hadn't needed to force it at all. It just happened like that. So why didn't it ever happen with Blaise? Shouldn't this kind of passion have showed up by then?
It would've if they had that kind of chemistry. It hadn't mattered at the time until the betrothal was over, because Dagmar didn't even realize what she actually wanted until her scope of experience broadened. Surely they would've eventually figured that out. What if Dagmar realized it after they were married, but Blaise couldn't give it to her? How did something like that get negotiated between a husband and wife? If Blaise hated to hear at this point that Dagmar only saw him as a friend, how would he handle it when they were legally bound?
It was just for the best. On a rational level, Dagmar was glad they were able to go their separate ways now rather than later if their differences turned out irreconcilable. Even worse, maybe they would stick it out in fear of change. They might decide it was better to be unsatisfied with each other, the only partner they'd ever been with, than to tempt the unknown.
When it came down to it, Dagmar wasn't sure these bad feelings about Blaise came from an actual want for him, or even the question of what might have been. She just felt bad that she left him with nothing. She cared enough about him that she didn't want to hurt him. If they could manage it, Dagmar certainly hoped he stayed in her life to some degree. Blaise was friends with Draco, so maybe that would be possible. Or maybe it would be salt in the wound to see them together.
Dagmar's mind ran in circles while she packed. When her bags sat by her door, the sun had set, and Dagmar had crawled into bed, her thoughts kept on going. In a way the day alone had been helpful, but for all Dagmar felt about her situation with Blaise, she felt all the worse for Draco. She doubted it was much stretch of the imagination that he laid awake too.
What little keenness Dagmar retained to go to Nice evaporated by morning. She went through the motions of packing her things downstairs and waited in the great room for her parents. Just like with Draco, the three of them headed through London and Marseille to get to Nice. Where Dagmar and Draco had taken a lift to Place Masséna, she and her parents took one instead to the district of Fabron.
The lift came up into a back room somewhere. They were in an inn. Dagmar slowed as she looked around the foyer she followed her parents into, stalling when her bags were pulled away from her. They floated ahead up beside her father.
"Come along," her mother told her. "We aren't staying here."
Wherever they were in Nice, it didn't seem too different from Place Masséna. The cobblestone walkway was familiar, as were the off-white buildings and clay roof tiles. Wherever they were, they'd found a small wizarding village. Through gaps in the buildings, Dagmar saw a ten-foot fence that surrounded it. Everybody here seemed to be visiting from upper-class society.
"Are we close at all to Place Masséna?" Dagmar asked her mother.
"Place Masséna?" Her mother wrinkled her nose. "You mean that Muggle centre? It's about five kilometres east."
"Oh."
That disappointed Dagmar. She'd liked that part of the city. How the Muggle and Wizarding parts were so closely crammed together reminded her a little bit of Bergen. Because the only other time Dagmar came to Nice she came with Draco, it reminded her a bit of him too.
They carried on down the street until they came to a condo complex. Dagmar stayed out in the shade, sitting next to her father on the steps. He rubbed her back.
"Why the long face?" he asked.
Dagmar shrugged. "Tired, I guess. I didn't sleep the greatest last night."
"Well, rest is what a vacation is for, isn't it?"
Dagmar managed a strained smile. She missed interactions like this with her parents. She hadn't known before the Dark Lord returned that her parents would seek to join him. She hadn't even explicitly known before that that her family had anything to do with the Death Eaters. It wasn't discussed in front of her, although in hindsight she felt stupid for not realizing. Their close friendship with the Malfoys, as well as their subscription to the belief of pureblood supremacy, was telling.
Her relationship with them hadn't quite been the same since. Dagmar kept as much distance as she could manage without being suspicious, and while a relief her parents didn't really notice, that also saddened her. She was old enough to fend for herself, they seemed to think, and so they were free to focus entirely on the Dark Lord.
"We definitely need it." Dagmar stretched her back, sitting up straighter. "It's hard to really rest in someone else's home, and Draco and I didn't really lay around either when we were in Bergen."
"He's been all right then, has he?" Dagmar's father studied her, chin clasped. "Lucius said that he can have an attitude problem. He figures he's corrected him of it for the most part."
Dagmar suppressed a wince. "He hasn't been disrespectful at all."
Eyes crinkled, her father rubbed her back again. "You always were more than capable of standing up for yourself."
The condo office door opened behind them. Dagmar's mother rejoined Dagmar and her father, handing them each a key.
"Don't lose it, now," she told Dagmar. "I figured you'd want your own copy. You'd probably rather not tag along with your father and I, huh?"
Dagmar indulged her humour with a smile to avoid agreeing too readily.
Her mother placed a hand briefly on Dagmar's shoulder. "Let's go upstairs, then. 220 is ours."
Dagmar yawned as her father unlocked the door to their condo. She was quite content to pass straight through the dining area and into the bedroom she'd spotted.
She laid on the bed with her eyes closed and fingers folded over her stomach. This hardly felt like the vacation she wanted at all. Dagmar thought that once she got here she'd be happy to have arrived. Her sense of still wanting to be at home had only strengthened.
Dagmar's parents' voices carried in muffled fashion from their bedroom on the other side of the kitchen and dining room. Dagmar closed her door quietly and opened her main bag. She'd placed her messenger on top along with her ink and quill. Carefully, since her room didn't have a desk, Dagmar unstopped the ink and set it on her bedside table. She made sure none dripped from the quill as she brought it over to the messenger in her lap.
Even though she'd promised to reach out to Draco when she got here, Dagmar wasn't sure where his head was at on everything. Draco might have even forgotten that they were going to make sure these messengers worked over distance. What Dagmar didn't like was that if she received no response from Draco, she couldn't entirely discern if that was because he hadn't received her initial message or he just ignored her.
Did you get this? Dagmar wrote. She underlined it and watched the words fade into the page.
Her heart pounded slightly as she waited for a response, but none came in the few minutes she watched. That was all right. It could just mean that Draco wasn't staring directly into his like Dagmar was at the moment. She set her quill in the inkwell and put her messenger aside. With the immediacy of reaching out off her mind, Dagmar decided to check out the condo more closely.
She wandered back out into the main living space. A small toilet was beside her bedroom. The living room had a nice fireplace, although Dagmar suspected it wasn't meant for travelling. Dagmar went into the kitchen. The ice box was empty—big surprise.
Dagmar headed toward the closed master bedroom to inform her parents she was going to go check out the market they'd walked past. Their voices had gone lower though, and Dagmar knew better than to interrupt. She pulled a face and elected instead to leave a note on the dining table for whenever they emerged.
She grabbed a few staples like fresh bread, butter, fruits, and vegetables. The fruits had looked particular good, so when Dagmar returned she plated a small helping each of the grapes, mango, peaches, and went into her room to check on her messenger again. Her heart skipped when she saw a single word had appeared in Draco's small, cramped writing: Yes.
Grape in mouth, Dagmar set her plate aside. She took up her quill, then paused before responding.
After how yesterday had gone, what would be a good thing to say? She'd already apologized. It wasn't much of a stretch of the imagination on how Draco was doing, and he'd hardly had time to do anything in the meantime she could ask after.
She settled with: Okay, that's good. Thanks for letting me know.
It surprised her that another word appeared a moment later: Yup.
Dagmar wanted to talk to him, but she just wasn't sure about what that wouldn't lead them right back into the discussion they'd left off with yesterday. If Draco wanted space, she also wanted to respect that.
While Dagmar debated it, Draco had written her again: Maybe after yesterday we ought to take a couple days to ourselves so that things can settle. I'd like to talk about what happened but I'm still not very happy and I don't think we'll get anywhere like that.
Remorse tugged at Dagmar. She really had irritated him for nothing. She missed him already. By the sounds of it, Draco didn't miss her.
She wrote the only thing she really could: Okay.
