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Short FIC: The Long Way (Harry/Draco)
Title: The Long Way
Rating: PG-13?
Word Count: around 400
Warnings: Er. Meta?
Summary: Er. More meta? Trying to get Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together is like trying to get toothpaste back into the tube: it doesn’t fit and it’s messy when you try.
A/N: This was another fic I did for ldws. The prompt was "Unctuous Unction." I made some minor edits from the original version.
The Long Way
Trying to get Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together is like trying to get toothpaste back into the tube: it doesn’t fit and it’s messy when you try.
I like to start by making them friends first. There are the usual short-cuts: bonding spells, Unctuous Unction, Veela mating rituals, that sort of thing, but I like to do it the long way. Then I have to ask questions like, why did Harry turn out the way he did? Why couldn’t he and Draco be friends? What makes a friend, anyway?
Some would ask, why bother? Well, life is like that toothpaste tube. It’s messy, and it doesn’t end cleanly with a short, sweet scene after seventeen years. I like to think about what happens when Harry gets to the end of what’s written and finds out, as it happens, life just keeps on going.
Then he has to ask question like, “Why am I like this? Why can’t you and I be friends?” It’s probably too existential for Harry, but I’m not above a little authorial insertion. Harry's going to have to ask, “What makes someone your friend, anyway?”
Draco, of course, will at first have only easy answers: “Money,” he'll drawl, or, “Unctuous Unction.”
There are other easy answers: they get drunk. They become Aurors together. A little Veritaserum here, a close call there, and that one night they mistakenly spend together: Draco arching under him, the sweet hot press of bony hips, the harsh cry of Harry’s name, and Draco’s hand, gentle afterward, weaving unwhispered words of hope in Harry’s hair.
But real answers are too often more difficult. It’s the way Draco says, “I’m sorry,” after that night, and Harry says, “I forgive you,” and he’s forgiving him so much more.
“Thank you,” when Draco says it, means a thousand things.
It’s the way Draco always so easily absorbs the spotlight, less because he wants it, though he does, and more because Harry doesn’t. It’s the way Draco holds Harry’s wrist, lightly, yet like a chain that is never going to break. It’s the way that, over years and years, Draco learns what Harry’s eyes are saying, and Harry learns to love the curve of Draco’s throat when Draco’s throws his head back, laughing.
“I found the answer to your question,” Draco says, seventeen years later.
“What is it?” Harry says.
“It’s timing,” says Draco, and puts out his hand.
Rating: PG-13?
Word Count: around 400
Warnings: Er. Meta?
Summary: Er. More meta? Trying to get Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together is like trying to get toothpaste back into the tube: it doesn’t fit and it’s messy when you try.
A/N: This was another fic I did for ldws. The prompt was "Unctuous Unction." I made some minor edits from the original version.
The Long Way
Trying to get Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy together is like trying to get toothpaste back into the tube: it doesn’t fit and it’s messy when you try.
I like to start by making them friends first. There are the usual short-cuts: bonding spells, Unctuous Unction, Veela mating rituals, that sort of thing, but I like to do it the long way. Then I have to ask questions like, why did Harry turn out the way he did? Why couldn’t he and Draco be friends? What makes a friend, anyway?
Some would ask, why bother? Well, life is like that toothpaste tube. It’s messy, and it doesn’t end cleanly with a short, sweet scene after seventeen years. I like to think about what happens when Harry gets to the end of what’s written and finds out, as it happens, life just keeps on going.
Then he has to ask question like, “Why am I like this? Why can’t you and I be friends?” It’s probably too existential for Harry, but I’m not above a little authorial insertion. Harry's going to have to ask, “What makes someone your friend, anyway?”
Draco, of course, will at first have only easy answers: “Money,” he'll drawl, or, “Unctuous Unction.”
There are other easy answers: they get drunk. They become Aurors together. A little Veritaserum here, a close call there, and that one night they mistakenly spend together: Draco arching under him, the sweet hot press of bony hips, the harsh cry of Harry’s name, and Draco’s hand, gentle afterward, weaving unwhispered words of hope in Harry’s hair.
But real answers are too often more difficult. It’s the way Draco says, “I’m sorry,” after that night, and Harry says, “I forgive you,” and he’s forgiving him so much more.
“Thank you,” when Draco says it, means a thousand things.
It’s the way Draco always so easily absorbs the spotlight, less because he wants it, though he does, and more because Harry doesn’t. It’s the way Draco holds Harry’s wrist, lightly, yet like a chain that is never going to break. It’s the way that, over years and years, Draco learns what Harry’s eyes are saying, and Harry learns to love the curve of Draco’s throat when Draco’s throws his head back, laughing.
“I found the answer to your question,” Draco says, seventeen years later.
“What is it?” Harry says.
“It’s timing,” says Draco, and puts out his hand.