..oo00oo..
Draco
When I woke up everything around me was dark. It took me a minute or two to decide it must be night, and then I realized I was in fact not in my four poster bed. This bed had no posters and it was about twice as large as my own, and the duvet wasn't green. I looked around me, the furniture was looming in the blackness now that my eyes got accustomed to the dark and I took it all in, the wardrobe, the armchair, that sordid music machine… a wide smile spread on my face and I turned my head to the sheets and smelled that deliciously sinful scent that had 'Oliver' written all over it. I smiled again and stretched languidly and then it hit me that something is missing here- after a couple more minutes it dawned on me at last- I was launching in Oliver bed, but there was no Oliver in it… I called out Oliver's name, just in case he was in the loo or something but there was no answer and that made me feel quite self conscious, because it's one thing to stay in your boyfriend's bed with him but another entirely to stay in his bed without him. And why in the name of Merlin it takes me ten minutes each time to actually make sense of things? What the hell happened last night? Ok, Malfoy, don't panic. Let's do it logically. What is the last thing I remember?
Friday, it's Friday and today Oliver and I were suppose to get together, yes. Well, obviously I made it thus far, seeing that I'm in Oliver's bed and all. I exhaled slowly trying to will my brain to work properly. I didn't suffer from a headache so I deduced it wasn't a hangover, which means I didn't drink myself to oblivion last night. But what was I doing? Let's see, we said we'd meet after dinner, wait, dinner? I never made it to dinner last night, because of the fire.
I sat bolt upright in bed- Fuck! The fire! My common room, my friends, my house! Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I doing here in Oliver's bed when my entire common room is burning up? I flung my legs over the edge of the bed and set them on the floor and then I saw the bandages on my right ankle, weird, I don't remember getting injured. I gingerly put my leg down and was very pleased that I didn't feel any pain. Apparently I was healed. I reached and grabbed my trousers, which were covered in soot and looked worse for wear but I didn't have many choices because I didn't bring my bag last night and I couldn't really borrow anything from Oliver, at least not without his consent and without a couple of modifying charms. I was about to look for my shirt when the door opened and there stood my smiling boyfriend, arms laden with dishes.
"Oh, you're up." He said cheerfully and I didn't even bother to feel happy at his sight,
"Oliver, what happened? What about the fire?" He walked over to the big armchair in the corner and dumped everything on it before turning to face me again, he did it all in a really annoyingly slow way that made me want to grab him and shake him,
"The fire is out, everyone is fine." he said confidently and I felt a little relieved,
"So where are they?"
"Two doors down the hall, in your temporary dorms. You really should eat something you must be famished." He said in concern, I smiled a little,
"Yes, I did miss dinner in the end." Oliver grinned,
"And breakfast, and lunch, and dinner." I looked at him puzzled, what the hell is he talking about? "It's Saturday evening, well, night actually, its half past ten."
"What? Saturday evening? What happened to rest of Saturday?" I slumped on the bed and grabbed my head in my hands; things just seem to add up like they should. Oliver sat next to me and put his arm around me and I found myself leaning in to the touch,
"Well, you know that there was a fire, right?" I nodded, stupid first years, "When McGonagall summoned me to help it was already blazing like mad, but all the students were out. You, being the noble and brave prefect that you are stayed last, and when I got there you were just limping out with little Miss… what was her name? Oh, Thompson." As Oliver was talking I began to see snatches of scenes from last night, Laura trapped behind one on the chairs and me valiantly and rather foolishly diving in to save her.
"My ankle?" I asked to make sure I didn't suffer any other injuries I didn't know about; Oliver nodded and continued his story,
"You inhaled quite a lot of smoke, and once you were out of the dorms you promptly fainted it my arms. It would have been very romantic if professor McGonagall wasn't present at the time…" he said wistfully and I chuckled, gods that must have been so embarrassing- me fainting in the middle of the hall and Oliver catching me. Good thing I was out at the time and I can't remember any of this. "She told me to take you to the Great Hall where all the rest of the kids were and then Madame Pomfrey mended your broken ankle and sent you off to a healing sleep for 24 hours." He finished cheerfully and I looked at him suspiciously,
"And how did I end up here?"
"I brought you here, I didn't want to leave you in the temp dorms alone." Ow, that's so sweet… "And I had to convince your friend Pansy to let me take you and she threatened my balls." Yes, that sounds just like my dear, sweet Pansy. I chuckled softly again and pulled Oliver for a kiss.
"So what are we going to do now?" I asked and stood up, sending a longing glance at the dishes, Oliver stood up as well and wrapped his arms around me, murmuring in my ear,
"I don't know what about you, but I plan to have dinner with my boyfriend."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I'm just waiting for him, gods I can't believe I'm actually going to say that, to put on a shirt." I couldn't really help but snigger, I looked up at him,
"I'll just go make sure he's ready then."
"You do that." He said with an affectionate squeeze to my bum. I detangled myself from his arms and bent over to pick up my shirt, well if my trousers were worse for wear, the shirt was positively a lost cause. It used to be white, it isn't anymore…
"Hmm, Oliver, could I borrow a shirt? Mine seem to have mysteriously change colours." Oliver smiled and walked over to the wardrobe, humming softly under his breath. He was happy, and that made me quite happy as well, especially after the way he looked over at lunch today, no wait, yesterday. I should probably ask him about it, but not right now. Oliver turned and handed me a T-shirt and I went to the washroom.
Once I closed the door I stripped down and practically ran to the shower, this was something I wanted to do since I opened my eyes. I knew that Oliver, or someone must have cleaned me magically before turning in but as good as magical cleaning was it was absolutely no match for the deeper, much more satisfying cleansing that the hot water and the soap provided. When I stepped out, fresh and clean I wrapped a towel around me and picked up the clothes. Hmm, transfiguration is defiantly in order here! The T-shirt Oliver gave me was in a dark shade of blue and I figured it would go nicely with a pair of denim, low cut, arse-snuggling pair of blue jeans, while the T-shirt itself could use a little diminishing spell- after all Oliver was a professional Quidditch player, a keeper and that meant- quite a considerable bulk. Once the T-shirt was fitting tight showing off all my lines and curves (such as my scrawny features allowed) and the end of it reached just barely to the waistband of my jeans, meaning that it would travel up to reveal my midriff every time I lifted my arms- I was finally ready. I took one last look at the mirror to make sure my hair was in place I opened the door.
While I was busy in the shower it seemed that Oliver had kept well busy himself, the room looked great. The only source of light came for dozens of candles spread on every flat surface in the room except the bed, and there were others that floated about in strategic places, I suppose a warming charm has been used as well. The armchair was converted to a big table and a couple of chairs and there was soft music playing. The whole place looked like a very romantic restaurant, the kind you'd take your date to just to show off and try to steal a few gropes under the table- just what I need tonight.
Oliver turned to see me and from the way his eyes roamed over my body nearly ripping my clothes off in the process I figured he was approving, even if I stood barefoot on his rug. He extended his hand to me and I took it with a smile as he sat me down in one of the chairs, the picture of a perfect gentleman.
Dinner was delicious; it was in fact the same food the rest of the school got, but somehow being alone with Oliver in a candle lit room having it made it all much more special. We ate in silence for a while, I was trying to figure out how to start asking what I wanted answers for, in a way that would not make Oliver think that I'm questioning his loyalty or love,
"You seem happy tonight." I ventured eventually, feeling rather stupid,
"I'm with you." He answered and I shook my head, flattering as it may be (and it is) it's not getting me anywhere,
"I mean you look happier than you did the last time I saw you." I have to keep reminding myself that the last time I saw him was in fact yesterday and not eight hours ago.
"Yes, well, I didn't have a lot to be happy about when you last saw me," Oliver said in a thoughtful voice, I looked at him puzzled- there was obviously something I was missing here, I should probably get all the information first and panic later. Oliver smiled warmly at me, "Bet you thought I was going to bolt again, didn't you?" I shrugged, yes I was and there wasn't much point in saying it out loud, "Actually, it was the other way around."
"Meaning?"
"Dumbledore caught me yesterday morning for a little chat," Oh, my poor Oliver, I just hope he doesn't get sent off to Paris this time or even further away. "I was so happy when I got up that morning, knowing that I was going to see you and all, and then he came by and punctured my happy little bubble." He weaved his story with a dreamy look in his eyes, as if reliving through it again, "He seemed to think that I was unhappy in the castle, which I was, up until last Tuesday and then he offered I'd move back to London."
I gasped out loud, "He fired you?"
"No, no he didn't, he just offered me to move back to my own flat and pop back here for classes." I looked at him, this is terrible! The only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge of meeting him every weekend and being able to see him during meals. Plus, his going back to London would no end of grieving jealousy for me, at least when he's here I know that there are far less temptations. "Anyway, I've spent the entire day brooding and sulking and trying to come up with an excuse to stay here. Funny, if he had come up with that a month ago, I'd be back in London in a heartbeat. But now…" I couldn't help the wide grin the spread across my face, "I couldn't figure out anything plausible," my face dropped again, "So I guess I should be thankful to your little house mates, I should do something really nice for them next lesson, maybe we'd play mock-Quidditch or something…" his voice was trailing and he was lost in his thoughts, I snapped my fingers under his nose, and he blinked at me,
"Oliver, focus please. What do the first years have to do with anything?"
"Well, since the magical fire pretty much ruined your common room it'll have to be restored. I'll wager none of you is too keen on staying in the unused classes for long, even if that makes you and me neighbours…" he gave me a little wink and it took me a moment to recompose myself and remember what we were discussing,
"So what are you saying?"
"I went to see Dumbledore today and offered my generous help in the restorations works. I do have quite a lot of free time- a little too much to be honest, and thus Dumbledore appointed me to be the head of the restoration team." He finished happily and I slid from my chair and flung my arms around him. Oliver pulled me to his lap and kissed me,
"So that means you're staying here with me?" I asked even though I already knew the answer and Oliver nodded happily. We sealed his new role in a scorching kiss that left us both breathless and panting.
"I take it we're done with dinner, ready for dessert?" he asked suggestively and I felt the warmth swelling in me,
"Mm, what did you have in mind for dessert?" I purred in a low sexy voice,
"Custard and whipped cream." He answered promptly and flashed a smile at me but I couldn't stop the pout that was shaping on my mouth, that was not the type of dessert I had in mind,
"I could eat it off you if you like," Oliver suggested with a sultry smile and I nearly chocked on my laughter,
"This you most certainly would, but not right now. I need to let dinner sink a bit, I feel bloated."
"Oh, my little dragon was eating too much?" Somehow he managed to say that cheesy line without a trace of cheesiness, which was a good thing; otherwise I might have developed lactose intolerance.
"Little dragon?" I asked and he smiled,
"Yes, you're my little dragon, well, not little little, just you know- little." Right, little.
"So that makes you my big… lion?" He thought about it for a moment,
"Lion, yeah, I like it."
"Well, it was better than to think I was fucking an olive tree." I said and he tossed his back laughing, I love to hear his laughter, it's bubbling and sparkling like soda water, but the good kind, the one that leaves you all nice and tingly inside like Perrier. "The lion is because you're a Gryffindor." I said for clarification,
"Yes, I got that." He said and leaned forward for another kiss. This is defiantly something I could get used to quite easily, just lounging around snogging with my boyfriend, without a care in the world. After a while Oliver started shifting uncomfortably under me and I pulled back and gazed at him,
"Perhaps we should move to more convenient location, because your bony arse is digging into my hip." He said cheerfully and I swatted him playfully. With a little flourish of his wand Oliver converted the table and other chair into a comfy looking sofa. Soon I found myself curled up lying against Oliver in front of the fireplace, feeling drowsy and quite sated even if we didn't really do anything yet.
"Oliver, do you have any secret fetishes?" I drawled while my fingers were tracing his pectorals slowly and lovingly,
"Fetishes, as in sexual ones?" I nodded in response, I do have point here, I'm not merely asking, "Hmm, I don't know, I guess I have a little thing for licking stuff off someone's body." I looked up at him in surprise, I thought the custard and whipped cream was a crack. "I mean food, you know like honey or cream, or jam- but not strawberries."
"Why not?" I just couldn't help myself,
"Because I'm bloody allergic to them."
"Right, what about hmm, say, cross dressing?" I asked carefully, Oliver pushed me back to arm length and looked suspiciously at me; I bit the side of my bottom lip,
"Draco, what are you on?"
"Why do you have a skirt in your closet?" There, it was out. If I expected Oliver to be self conscious and embarrassed by that I was sourly mistaken, he was looking at me and I could just see the laughter gathering within him,
"It's not a skirt, silly. It's a kilt." I cocked an eyebrow at him, because to me the garment looked rather skirt-like no matter what Oliver chose to name it. "It's a traditional male Scottish wear." He explained and I nodded my head, sure whatever you say. Oliver shoved me lightly in the shoulder, "It is!" he exclaimed, "I has the colours of my clan, and I happen to be very proud of it!"
"You have a clan?"
"Yes. The Woods are decedents of the MacLeod clan; it's a very big and very important clan on the Highlands of Scotland."
"Are they wizards?" I ran over the names of all the old wizarding families I know but I couldn't really come up with any Woods or MacLeods.
"Not really. Wood is Eva's name." I was half way into nodding when I paused and looked confused, "Eva is my mother." Oliver elaborated and I nodded,
"Wait, that doesn't make sense, wasn't your father a wizard? How come he took his wife's name?"
"My father comes from a very rich and noble wizarding blood, but when he married Eva his family disowned him and thus he took her name."
"Which family does your father come from?"
"Spungen." I rose up again to look at him,
"Hey, I know that name, my grandfather Abraxas was in business with a Spungen. His name was… Aldor, I think." Oliver nodded,
"Yep, that would be my grandfather." I tried to think of all I know about the Spungen family; they were a very rich and respectable wizarding family, not as rich as the Malfoys but not too far behind, and they were extremely good at hiding out their dirty laundry as they say inside the confines of their Manor, which is probably the reason I've never heard about Oliver being from that lineage.
"How come you're calling your father "father" but your mother "Eva"?"
"Because father was dead set on having boundaries and good old fashion education, something like yours, and Eva on the other hand is a very free spirit and would probably laugh at me if I call her "mother", you see Eva was born into the post-war poverty of the 50's, and grew up through the roaring turmoil of the 60's only to prepare her well to the glamorous 70's which was when she met father, in some club or other. For a young girl freshly escaped from Glasgow, coming to London in the 70's was quite a shock." Oliver seemed mostly amused talking about his mother, I could see he's much more attached to her than to his father and from putting together bits and pieces of information I could gather he shared far many more characteristics with her than with him.
"So what happened?" I asked, curious like a little kid hearing a bed time story,
"They fell in love and then had me."
"So you grew up in London?" I asked,
"Of course not, after Eva found out she was pregnant she decided to go back to Glasgow to raise me among our kin, as she said and my father felt rather responsible for getting her knock up in the first place so he married her. It didn't last too long." Oliver said dryly,
"Why?"
"Because they were completely wrong for each other, and to be honest I'm really surprised their marriage lasted the sixteen years they did. They were always bickering and fighting- he couldn't stand her cheerfulness and freedom and she couldn't stand his confined and stuck up ways. But I guess the last straw was finding out his son was a queer." I winced at the way he pronounced "queer" like it really was an insult. "He left when I was sixteen, Eva sent me to spend the summer with the Weasleys and when I got home for Christmas of my final year he was gone. Which I assure you was all for the best because he became quite an insufferable git." Oliver added when he saw my pitying face. I lowered my head to hide my face because he clearly didn't want my pity but I couldn't really stop them from showing. I don't what I'd do if my parents decided to divorce, it would be awkward- to say the least.
"So what happened to your father?" I asked instead,
"Well, he went back to plead with his family and they took him in only after he promised never to see Eva or me again, which he gladly did and last I've heard he got re-married to a pure-blood witch from a good breed and he lives somewhere in the north."
"You haven't seen him since you were sixteen?"
"Nope." I bit my lip and tried to think of something to say, but I couldn't really think of anything, and clearly it wasn't one of Oliver's favourite topics for conversation. "Your turn." I lifted my head to look at him in puzzlement,
"Tell me about your family."
"Well, there isn't much to tell, you probably know most of it, Malfoys tend to live their lives above the pages of the Prophet." It was true, and lately it really started to irk me. Especially since I realized that I'd never be able to live up to father's expectations of me.
"Is your father a Death Eater?" I blinked a few times, as far as direct questioning went, this was like a blow to the gut, I looked at Oliver, his gaze was piercing and challenging,
"I can't tell you that." I said quietly and he shrugged,
"Fair enough. Are you?"
"What, a Death Eater? Of course not! The Dark Lord doesn't take anyone officially before they finish school."
"Is that so, How considerate of him to wait." Oliver's voice was dry and unimpressed, and I felt a little smile tug at the corners of my mouth,
"I think it's because he's scared of Dumbledore. He's quite a coward, you know." Now it was Oliver's turn to look like he'd been punched in the gut and I fully smiled, "I'm not my father."
"So you're not planning to become a Death Eater?"
"No." Before Oliver could question this I continued hurriedly, "Don't get me wrong, I still believe in a lot of what he says, but there is a long way between that and following blindly after a delusional power-starved maniac."
"Isn't that a bit of blasphemy on your part?" I shrugged,
"I wouldn't go and repeat it where my father can hear, but I mean it. I was never one to go to extremes."
"But your father is the lead Death Eater."
"No, he's not, there's no such thing as "lead Death Eater"," I said in a mocking voice, I know what most people think and they're wrong. "He's just smarter than most of them."
"So what do you intend to do after school ends?" He asked and I sighed, isn't that the Big Question?
"I don't know." I really, really don't. Father obviously has a long term plan for me who include getting into business with him, marrying an appropriately pure-blooded witch and pledge me allegiances to the Dark Lord. Well, I've already decided that the whole Dark Lord thing- is not for me! I see what father turned into since the Dark Lord had risen again, and frankly, I don't want to end up this way. But getting out of arranged marriage and working with him is a little trickier because whatever I'll say, he would never pass it for standing my own ground bravely.
"What do you want to do?" my musing was cut by Oliver's unexpected question, and before I could stop to fully think about it my mouth ran on me,
"Study potions." And when I finally said it out loud I knew it was for certain. Up until now it was a little "fantasy" I harboured, that one day I'd have my own lab and I'd become a potions master like Snape (though I doubt I'll ever come to teach), I want to make a name for my own, I want to be known as "Draco Malfoy, the best potion maker on this side of the Atlantic." Not as "Draco Malfoy, son of the alleged Death Eater Lucious Malfoy." It's a heavy shadow my father is casting- on everything he does. I don't want to end up living his life for him, just like he did to his father but I don't know how to tell him that. It's all so… complicated. Not to mention the fact that when he finds out I'm gay he's going to flip altogether and not even mother's powers could hold him at bay this time.
"Draco?" a soft voice was filtering through the cloud buzzing in my head, I looked up to see Oliver's concerned eyes on me, how am I going to explain him to father? "Are you alright? What is it?"
"Nothing." I said and tried to smile, Oliver looked at me with concern in his eyes and I knew he was going to pursue the subject if I don't stop him. "It's nothing; I don't want to talk about it." I said firmly and after a couple of hesitant moments he slowly nodded, I'd probably tell him all of it someday, probably closer to graduation if things will still be relevant but right now it doesn't matter. "What do want to do now?"
"Mm, don't know. Though we might go to bed and get some sleep, you must be exhausted."
"Oliver, I just slept for 24 hours…"
"No, you magically slept for 24 hours- that hardly counts. Madame Pomfrey would be very angry if she finds out you're not sleeping right." I could see the shine in Oliver's eyes and knew that I'd get my wish eventually, since both of us want it, so I didn't really mind playing along for a bit. I crawled on top of him and traced my fingers down his neck,
"She's also going to be rather pissed when she finds out I've been skipping meals, or rather, desserts." I said in a purring voice and gave Oliver a pointed look, he tossed his head back on the arm bend of the sofa like he was actually contemplating whether to humour me or not, though I could feel his arousal growing against my heap,
"Oh, alright, but I'm going to hold you sole responsible if something bad happens to you." He warned with a finger pointed at me for emphasis, I shrugged and nodded and he smiled deviously, "You're going to be the death of me yet." Oh, I sure hope so…
A/N: MacLeod as in Duncan MacLeod (or Connor, depends if you're into the movies or TV series…), as in the "Highlander", as in shitty movie, great Queen Soundtrack.