September 8, 2000
"You're not funny." Iris frowned. "And I'm not a damsel in distress for you to save." She pressed her palms against Draco's chest and shoved hard, but he was all muscle underneath her touch and didn't move an inch at her effort.
"Fine, I'll let you fall to your death next time." Draco sneered before releasing her arms and drifting to her side. He leaned against the railing on one elbow, his body turned towards her and a smirk plastered on his face.
"There won't be a next time." She fumed. "Go back inside, I came out here to be alone."
"What a coincidence – I came out here to be alone as well." He jeered before shifting his gaze upwards, the strong line of his jaw on display as his eyes scanned the night sky.
Iris was left tongue-tied as memories of tracing her lips along that jaw rushed at her. Her eyes were driven towards his cheekbone as strands of hair delicately brushed the surface and an irrational part of her wondered if he would notice if she reached out and—
"I hate London, the smog covers every single star in the sky." His lips curled into a frown, the disdain in his voice drawing her out of her trance. "That's what used to be so special about the Manor—the fresh air, the quiet rustle of the forest, the light of the constellations after sunset."
His bloodshot eyes left the sky and found hers once more—the weight of his gaze knocking the air from her lungs.
"Not even that lasted. My father destroyed my childhood home just as he destroys every beautiful thing he touches. First my mother, then the Manor." He chuckled dryly—the lack of emotion familiar to Iris' ears. "I wonder what else he'll ruin when he's released from Azkaban."
Her heart panged at his words, but she'd been a victim to his revolving door tactic before. She couldn't allow herself to be the same schoolgirl that craved the rarity of such a raw moment only to be given the cold shoulder for days, weeks, or months afterwards.
"Draco, go inside." Iris pleaded.
"I'd rather not." He pushed off the railing and took a step towards her. "Too much Weasley back there."
"For the love of Merlin—"
"You know, your argument with Potter reminded me of our Prefect patrols together Fifth Year – the nights I would poke and poke at your temper until it cracked." He arched a brow mockingly. "It was all so I could watch the way your eyes lit up when you felt challenged."
"Stop it." She warned.
"No." He replied sharply as he took another step forward. "The color of your blouse, it's the same shade of red as that dress you wore to Slughorn's Christmas Party. Do you know that?"
He was close enough now that his fingers brushed the cuff of her sleeve absentmindedly and the simple gesture sent her heart racing. "I remember thinking about how I would've let Filch catch me that night a thousand times over if it meant I could relive the moment I laid eyes on you again."
"I said stop it." She hissed through her teeth. "You've never told me any of this before and there isn't any point in sharing now."
"Yes, there is. I should've told you then, but I was a coward. I should've, but I didn't and that's why I'm telling you now."
"You're right, you were a coward." She backed away from him. "But you were also cruel—cruel and unfair, just as you are being at this very moment, so if you're not going to leave, then I will."
Iris hurried from her spot by the railing, hurried away from Draco, and rushed to the balcony doors—her fight or flight instinct pleading with her to run as she pushed downward on one of the handles.
The door refused to budge the slightest inch, and when she tried the handle of the other door, the result was the same. She put all her strength behind shaking each of the handles once more, and while the doors shook vigorously, they remained closed.
"What the—" Iris lost her train of thought as she met the eyes of Pansy Parkinson through the glass doors. The witch was standing only a few feet away with two wands dangling loosely from her left hand, an apologetic grin plastered on her face.
She frantically checked the pockets of her trousers and when she came up empty, a memory from earlier flashed across her mind. Her wand had been poking her in the stomach and, instead of securing it within her purse, her scotch-addled brain had laid it on the coffee table right next to Pansy's martini glass.
It all came together as she glared at Pansy through the glass.
Pansy must have witnessed Draco following Iris outside and had seen that as an opportunity to shut the pair out on the balcony, knowing she wouldn't be able to use Alohomora on the locks.
"Pansy, unlock these doors!" She hit the glass out of frustration.
She had also hoped the sound of her palm hitting the glass would've alerted her friends sitting nearby, but not a head turned in her direction.
Pansy's mouth formed an 'o' at the outburst and, with the use of a non-verbal spell, glossy, silver curtains untied from either end of the glass wall. The curtains met in the middle to frame the balcony doors, essentially hiding the interior of the flat from the outside and vice versa.
Once Pansy scurried away from her view, Iris spun around on her heel and glared furiously at Draco who'd been observing the scene as it unfolded.
"Are you behind this?!" She shouted. "When has backing me into corner ever worked well for you?"
"Never. That's why you should know I have nothing to do with this." He drawled. "This is all Pansy's doing. Did you fail to notice that she had my wand between her claws as well?"
All Iris wanted to do was scream.
Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose tightly and closed her eyes as she thought over her next to path to escape. It wasn't until she remembered that she was, in fact, a witch, that the most obvious answer occurred to her.
"I can Apparate. I'm a witch and I can Apparate." She laughed manically as she opened her eyes. "I'll pop home and, once I'm there, I'll send Hermione a Patronus and ask her to bring over my things tomorrow morning."
"Iris, you can't—"
"Shush, I'm concentrating on not getting Splinched." Iris closed her eyes once more and pictured the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place. The familiar feeling of all corners of the Earth closing in on her at once began to wash over her and it then it just—stopped.
"What?" She stared at her palms incredulously. "Damn it, it's probably the scotch. I'll just have to—"
"It's not the scotch." Draco interrupted her. "Pansy cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx around the flat when she moved in so stop trying to leave or you're going to get sliced in half by your own magic. The only way in or out is through the front door."
Iris' jaw went slack, and a stretch of silence occurred as she processed the reality of the situation. She groaned audibly and began pacing up and down the balcony—Draco's eyes following her every step.
"Brilliant. Bloody fucking brilliant." She glared at Draco. "So, what do we do now? You want to continue dredging up our past at my expense? Go ahead, you've got years to cover—that's bound to kill some time."
An expression of pure annoyance crossed his face, but he remained silent.
"Oh, so now you have nothing to say. Well, I guess it's my turn then." She took a step towards him. "Why don't we talk about this?" She lashed out and forced his left forearm into a position that put the Dark Mark on display.
"Remember when you branded yourself summer before Sixth Year? Remember how well you hid it from me until the morning before you let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts?" He wrenched his arm out of her grasp and her eyes lit up with fury. "You disgust me."
"I disgust you?" He laughed loudly. "Is that what you tell yourself? Is that your reasoning, as Potter put it so elegantly, for running from me all these years? From trying to run from me now?" He closed the miniscule gap that had separated them. "That's a lie. Tell the truth."
They were chest to chest, and she had to tilt her head up to see him properly this close.
"It's not a lie." She hissed. "The sight of you makes me physically ill."
"I don't believe you." He muttered.
His breath tickled her eyelashes and she instinctively took a step backwards.
"What do you want, Draco? Are you so fucked in the head that you want to hear the ghastly details of the hell I went through after you left me, not once, not twice, but three fucking times?" She poked a finger harshly into his chest. "Is that what you want to hear? That after stealing my parents' memories, after cheating death on numerous occasions, and after passing the still bodies of friends and mentors within the Great Hall, that the worst of my nightmares were filled solely of you leaving me behind."
Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain her breath.
"You weren't the only one with nightmares, Iris."
"Excuse me?" She cried out.
"I'm not the villain of your story. I was a kid. We were kids." He crossed his arms defiantly. "I tried to protect you the only way I knew how, the only way I'd been taught my entire life—I fought you until you were too exhausted to continue on, until you were forced to run in the opposite direction." He locked her eyes with his. "I won't apologize for doing what I thought I was right."
"I could take care of myself then and I can take care of myself now!" She shouted. "I didn't need you to act as my savior, I needed you to stay! I only ever needed you to stay but I learned my lesson and I will never make that mistake again."
Overwhelming, suffocating silence returned as Draco's brow furrowed with frustration at her words.
Her eyes roamed his face, searching for what she knew she would never find—guilt, regret, sorrow. She searched for an indication that his scars still ached as hers did, that his wound cut as deep as hers, but was only greeted with unwavering defiance.
Their eyes were torn from one another at the sound of loud yelp coming from behind Iris.
"Ron! Stop leaning on me!" Ginny yelped. "You keep shoving my face into the glass."
"Shut up, they're going to—" Blaise's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he locked eyes with Iris. "—hear us."
Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Blaise, and Pansy were pressed up against one another, peering through the balcony doors at Iris and Draco. Blaise's gaze shifted from Iris to Draco and after catching his best friend's attention, he promptly awarded Draco with a thumbs up.
"Fuck off the lot of you!" Draco shouted at the group.
Blaise feigned offense and fell over backwards with his hand over his heart.
The others, ashamed they'd been caught spying, scurried away out of sight.
Iris turned back towards Draco and announced the first casual thought that sprung to mind, "The doors are probably unlocked."
"Run then." He spat. "It's what you do best."
He turned his back on her and headed towards the railing, as if he was dismissing her from his presence. Her eyes were glued to his retreating figure as he leaned over the ironwork, his gaze seemingly focused on a boat cruising down the Thames.
"You taught me how." She replied.
And without sparing Draco another glance, she turned around and tried one of the door handles.
Mercifully, the door opened, and Iris let it slam shut behind her.