Chapter Text
Draco strained to see the edge of the pool through his fogged-up goggles.
The churn of the water calmed as his teammates left their lanes one by one. His arms twisted and cut through the ripples in precise rhythmic movements. Push, pull, repeat. If he could just keep moving, keep swimming, maybe he could trick his brain into focusing on something other than the warped fragmented images of Granger’s face from the night before.
She haunted him, and when he didn’t see the image of her scowls, her words replayed in his mind like an endless barrage of cuts. Both threatened to sink him below the surface if he couldn’t get a handle on his own mind.
He’d barely slept, and the exhaustion in his muscles urged him to drift to the edge of the pool and bail. Coach had called him unfocused, something that would no doubt get back to his father. Draco had never been called a term even resembling that in his life. He never had a need to be. Everything was already decided for him; what choice did he have but to commit and obey.
I can’t stay away from you, Draco.
Fuck. He pushed hard off the wall, strong legs reverberating out in a wave-like motion, kicking endlessly until he was forced to surface for air. His lungs stung with the burn of oxygen depletion, and he gasped in a controlled breath before submerging again.
The laps were an atonement for a shitty showing at practice. The blokes didn’t seem to care, but his coach had been relentless. He hadn’t come this far to give up everything now. That was the pitch. The reminder speech. As if Draco didn’t know exactly what he had to lose, and what he’d never possessed at all.
Lately, Draco felt the burden of scrutiny from everyone in his life. The scales were set, and he had been weighed and measured by every single person in his orbit.
I can’t stay away from you, Draco.
But she had. She had done such an incredible job of it. Of course, he’d left first. He’d nearly run out of that meeting last night. Not because he wanted to, but because he was so near a panic attack that his chest felt like it was collapsing into itself.
Pansy had seen of course. She knew the signs. He had absolutely no idea what Granger had made of him, but in that moment he couldn’t wait around to find out.
It was fine to show weakness when he was in the cage. If you were capable of withstanding that kind of scrutiny, you were either a sociopath or a dullard. He was neither, though he’d believed he’d witnessed both in his time in Serpents & Skulls. He could show nerves, he could boldly lie, but he could not step out and fall apart.
Prolonged or repeated exposures didn’t always help his claustrophobia. The tunnels still drove him mad, and he had endured those walks multiple times a week for three years.
The questions made it all the more intense. He disregarded whatever Nott said about the readings. He knew when he needed to lie, and he did it.
Flipping under the surface, he committed to what would be his last lap, but he could not stop seeing an image of Granger biting her lower lip over and over and fucking over.
The water retreated from this vision, and his brain replaced it with a long aisle, a veiled figure standing at the end of it in an elegant white dress. His mother and father beaming up at him as she processed. Oddly enough, this version of her did not induce a nervous feeling. He didn’t even think to question the validity of the daydream until gasps filled the aisles. He lifted the veil to find a warm smile and a never ending jumble of soft, brown curls.
Draco woke up gasping for air on the side of the pool.
“Ah, you’re back with us,” Blaise chuckled, but even lying nearly incoherent on the floor, Draco could hear no real mirth behind his words.
“Had us quite worried,” Theo added, looking slightly more concerned, though both of his friends had a good check on their emotions.
“What the fuck happened?” He strained to speak, coughing up pool water as he shuffled to his side. His lungs proved to reach their pain tolerance; every breath was agonising.
“You hit your head on the wall, man.”
Oh, he had definitely hit his head. He’d blacked out to a vision of Hermione Granger in a wedding dress. Bloody fucking christ.
“You should-”
“I’m not going to the infirmary,” he insisted, taking Blaise’s offered hand and willing his body to sit upright.
“Fine, but if you’re expecting me to keep this from-”
“No telling coach,” he bowed his head, coughing against his hands as he pushed down on his chest. “Or my fucking father, Blaise. Do you hear me?”
“We didn’t see anything, Draco. We’d already left,” Theo offered.
“What are you two still doing here anyway?”
“He means thank you for saving his life,” Blaise huffed, joining Theo to each take a hand and pull him to standing.
“Thank you,” he relented, leaning over to pick up a towel, and drape it around his waist.
“Where’s your head at, man? Because it wasn’t in the pool. It hasn’t been all day.”
“I know,” Draco lamented.
“Lucius riding you too hard?”
“When has that ever changed? No, that's not the problem.”
“Tori okay?” Theo asked, busying himself with moving an assortment of polo balls into a large crate.
Draco shook his head. The persistent image of Hermione in a wedding dress wouldn’t clear.
“Leave it, Nott. I’ll clean all that stuff.”
Theo nodded, closing the lid, and patting him on the back. Draco hesitated on how much to share, but in the end, Theo’s persistent gaze won out. He could detect bullshit like no one else.
“You know I adore Tori. I’ve always adored Tori,” Draco sighed.
“But,” Theo pressed.
“She deserves more than me. Always has.”
Theo froze, and Blaise turned abruptly.
“Lucius thinks you’re going to propose at the end of term,” he countered.
“My father’s delusions aside. She doesn’t want me. I know she doesn’t.”
He held onto this assumption like a lifeline.
Draco scooped up the remaining towels and deposited them into the bin near the locker rooms. He held the door for his friends as they followed him in.
“She told Pansy she was-”
“Do you both remember last summer? Zabini Vineyards? Astoria checked in with me twice a day. Once to phone our families, and once to coordinate outfits before tastings.”
“Wait,” Theo asked, but Blaise pulled Draco’s attention.
Their ruse had clearly been good enough to fool their closest friends. He could hear the next line without even trying. Some chorus of, you’re so good together or Draco, she’d make the perfect future Lady Malfoy, which was true.
“So she’s cold?” Blaise questioned.
“No, I’m not saying that. I don’t want a marriage that is nothing beyond a betrothal contract between our fathers’ companies.”
“You think she’ll just let you go?” Theo asked, slamming open his locker and grabbing his shampoo from the top shelf.
Theo couldn’t have known about Tori. At least, Draco was almost positive he didn’t, but if he could give Astoria a chance to be happy. He wanted to seize that for both of them.
He shucked his kit, stepping over the bench to make his way to the showers.
“We heard her, you know,” Theo said, pulling Draco’s arm until he stilled. “We heard what Granger said last night. Deny it all you want.”
“Nothing’s happened.” Draco shuddered to think of a kiss as nothing. He’d kissed Astoria hundreds of times. More than kissed.
“So it’s Granger, then?” Blaise echoed, tucking a towel around his waist.
“I-”
“Inevitable, Draco,” Blaise laughed. “You don’t see it yet, do you?”
Before last night, Draco didn’t believe that to be true. He would never have hoped for it. He felt weak around her, and most times he could do little to control his body from repeating that kiss. That fucking kiss that kept him up at night.
He never let Tori see or feel a difference, but he felt stung when Granger invoked her presence in that cage last night. Bringing her forth like a spectre they were forced to confront. He supposed Granger felt guilty. He was possibly built differently. He felt something akin to guilt, but he also felt every cell in his body willing him to touch Granger, be near her. It wasn’t normal and it certainly wasn’t sustainable.
His relationship with Tori would never survive Hermione Granger.
They’d never admitted it, they were bred not to say such revelatory things out loud, but he knew Astoria did not love him either, not in the way people assumed. Their affection was a scene, even when they were alone. Yes, they had grown to rely on one another. They felt that they had to in order to survive the arrangement, but Draco was more certain than ever that he had to end it.
“I can feel you both judging me,” he sighed, tightening his own towel.
“We just like fucking with you,” Blaise laughed.
“He’s right,” Theo shuffled around the bench, now leading them toward the showers. “You have to give us a little leeway to enjoy it.”
“It’s my life.” Draco was well aware he sounded like a spoilt child.
“Finally you say it out loud,” Blaise dropped his head. “I know we’re all marionettes, but I was beginning to think you didn’t care anymore. You were acting like you didn’t even want to change it.”
“I do,” Draco nodded.
“Then go change it,” Blaise insisted.
Draco positioned himself in a stall, turning the knob, and letting the hot water cascade over his face and neck.
“You wanker,” Blaise shouted, his voice echoing off the stalls between them. “This means Granger is really off the table, yeah?”
Draco didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He had made that fairly obvious weeks ago before he even knew if it was an actual possibility.
I can’t stay away from you, Draco.
God, he wished that were true. He needed it to be true.
Granger may hate him at that moment. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. That didn’t mean he’d sweep away the new images of her that had fully infiltrated his brain.
***
His knuckles wrapped on the door, hesitant in case she was already asleep. It was Monday night, and she usually turned in early. Knowing the ins and outs of her schedule had been imperative.
The lock clicked, and Tori pulled it open just enough to let him in.
“Draco, is something wrong?”
She wasn’t expecting him. They had lunch plans at the end of the week, but for the most part, they went about their studies and extracurriculars independent of each other.
“Your mother alright?” She asked, a look of concern flashing over her face.
“My mother is fine, Tori. Can we sit?”
Her brows furrowed as she took him in. His hair was still wet from the showers. He’d nearly sprinted over there, determined to take care of this as fast as possible before he lost all nerve to accomplish it.
“Of course.” She scuffed a pair of fuzzy slippers across the floor, and pulled a shin-length silk robe around her body.
She looked peaceful, ethereal even. Astoria had the ability to manufacture calm for everyone around her. He wondered the toll it took on her. He’d never asked. He never asked if his presence brought comfort, or if it drained her once he’d left.
He pulled a wool throw from the nearby sofa and wrapped it over her thighs.
“Thank you,” she sighed. “Tea?”
He felt determined, even if this was the first time, to leave her better than he had found her.
“No, Tori,” he refused, resting his hand on his knee.
“I want you to know that the choice is yours. I leave this decision entirely up to you.”
“Draco, you’re not making any sense.”
“Right,” he agreed. “I haven’t been making sense for weeks actually. If you knew what I’ve done, what I keep doing.”
He was rambling but it couldn’t be helped.
“Hey, you muppet,” she laughed, placing her hand over his, stalling his misinformed soliloquy. “You can tell me.”
He looked into her blue eyes. So warm and inviting. It would be easy to lose himself in them. He had been prepared to.
“I’m your friend first, so be my friend, and tell me.”
“I can’t do this,” he sighed, feeling his shoulders slump mid-declaration.
She stayed preternaturally still, and the lack of reaction prompted his brain to go completely off the rails.
“Lucius is putting too much pressure on you,” she offered.
He felt it building. He couldn’t say it, but he couldn’t possibly hold it in any longer.
“It’s not just that, Tor. I don’t — I can’t marry you. I don't think you want to be married to me.”
“Draco, we haven't even completed courses.”
“You know where this is headed. Don’t. Not with me.”
“Fine,” she huffed lightly. “I ought not to think I can pretend with you.”
“Do you remember the summer before freshers? A bunch of us went out to Provence and we stayed a week.”
“Sure, our parents had just introduced us formally.”
“I fucked Tracy Davis that night. I kept doing it. I was reckless. I wanted my father to find out. I wanted to break his ideas about us. I wanted him to call it off with your father.”
She opened her mouth, her lips forming an o shape, before closing again. He knew her wheels were spinning. It was not exactly cheating, that’s what she would reason, what most women her status would be told to endure in this situation.
“When that didn't work, I told him about your diagnosis.”
“Draco, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I've been trying to sabotage this from the start, and I didn’t even let myself think about why.”
She huffed slightly, shaking her head, back and forth. He knew this would be hard, but watching her face contort into a myriad of emotions made his stomach turn.
“We could be good at this,” she said quietly, furrowing her brows as her emotions settled on incredulity.
“We could be,” he sighed, “I think I would have gone along with it if it wasn’t for — if I didn’t.”
He noticed she’d drained a glass of Cabernet Franc, and he reached out and refilled it, taking a long sip before passing it back to her.
“Is there someone else now?”
He swallowed, feeling terrible for having to share this with her. He wouldn’t hurt her any further.
“There could be,” he breathed, the words catching in his throat. “There is the dream of someone else.”
“For me too,” she whispered.
The relief that hit his chest was immeasurable. It didn’t excuse him, by any means, but that meant she too had been fostering a tiny gleam of hope.
They sat in a companionable silence for a moment. Draco could hear the Hogwarts night bus pull to the nearby corner and let passengers disembark.
“I don’t want to lose you from my life,” he whispered. Feeling how true that sentiment was as it left his lips.
“You won’t,” she promised. Her eyes had a sincerity that he held onto even when his gut was screaming at him.
“Greengrass Inc?” He ran his fingers through his hair, further disheveling the loose strands.
“Isn’t going anywhere, Draco. My dad will still want you.”
“You don’t know that,” he argued, pulling her glass back to his lips.
“I do, actually. He’s valued you more than me the moment you became a viable option. He’ll fight Lucius for you.”
“You’re being wildly optimistic.”
“It’s my favorite drug, Draco. It’s the only one that works every time, and I’ve been pumped with so many of them. Let me have this.”
He nodded, taking the glass, and finishing it down to the dregs.
“This is good,” he hummed, letting the remnants settle and absorb into relief on his tongue.
“Zabini’s vineyards,” she smiled. “I asked them to ship me a case.”
“Draco, can we keep this between us?” she shuffled on the sofa. “I mean, until we’ve squared everything away with our parents?”
“Of course.”
There was a slight hitch in her voice, and she looked up at him.
“What if they fight us on it?”
He anticipated they would, but he would take the brunt of that fight. Astoria had her own battle coming up, and he wouldn’t be as present for that one.
“I find something Lucius wants more.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“You don’t need to stay away, Draco. Please don’t stay away.”
For a moment her facade cracked, and she looked so young to him.
“Tori, you have me in your life until you don’t want me anymore,” he promised.
“I would've married you,” she responded, squeezing back.
It hit harder than he thought it would. He was under no delusion that she was in love with him, but he was convinced his heart had broken and refastened itself in such a way that hearing that left the cracks open to attacks.
“I know,” he sighed. “I would've too. But we shouldn't have to. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“I’m treading, Draco. I’m not drowning.” A perfect media-ready smile took over her face and he sat in awe of her resilience.
She didn’t need his sympathy, and she already had his empathy. Something she would have had anyway, but she earned it ceaselessly over the last three years.
He truly wanted nothing more than to see her happy. It was with that in mind that he decided to push his advantage. He walked over to her dining area and retrieved a cordless phone.
“Who are you phoning?” she asked quietly.
“Dr. Parkinson.” He handed her the ringing phone. “It’s her house line. You’re going to tell her to move treatment to a facility, and then you should ask Pansy to come over in case you need her.”
She would need everyone she could pull, and he’d be drawing their attention somewhere else very soon.
“Okay.” She wiped back a small tear and smiled up at him. Covered in the white throw she looked very small, but not helpless. She was surely stronger than he was at that moment.
He used the loo, taking a moment to fill up a large glass of water, and placing it next to her. She had a small pad on her lap and she was scribbling notes from the doctor. Pansy would be there soon. He wasn’t ready to deal with her yet. He knew he needed to have his own conversation with her at a later time.
He tucked Tori’s blanket a little more securely into the sofa and indulged himself, quite selfishly, with one more kiss. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he could feel the shift in her face as he held on an extra beat.
She apologised for missing something from the other end of the line, pushing him away with a heartfelt smile.
A life with her would not necessarily have been the easy road, but it would have certainly been the road he hadn’t chosen for himself.
He looked back, waving good-bye before heading out. Draco popped the collar of his wool peacoat against the biting winds of mid-autumn.
His lungs were a touch sore from earlier. How easy, on any other night, it may have been to curl up next to Astoria and let her familiarity lull him to stay in a space of inaction.
He had become numb. Before, he could ignore it, ignore her, but something had lit a fire in him now and it burned brighter than his will to ignore it.
Draco hustled to the garage below his building. It took a moment or two for the engine of his DB5 to warm up.
Within ten minutes he was pulling into the long drive of Malfoy Manor.
His mother would be in bed at this later hour, but he took the mindless turns of the large estate to his father’s study.
“Father,” he cleared his throat. The small amount of wine had given his cheeks a dusting of flush and he located a decanter of single malt Lagavulin, pouring three fingers for each of them.
“I wasn’t expecting you until Thursday,” Lucius shared, pushing some files into an open drawer.
“I know, Father,” Draco sighed, handing him the tumbler.
Draco sipped deeply on the amber liquid.
“The gala-“
“Will run itself at this point.”
Lucius placed his hand on the opening of his top drawer, hesitating only momentarily, before pulling out an envelope and tossing it to Draco.
“What’s this?” Draco rifled through the various photos. He nearly dropped the glass onto the parquet floor. In a flash, he saw moments of everyone he cared for. He and Hermione walking and smiling in the Hogwarts quad, Narcissa hosting a lunch last week, Astoria leaving a blood transfusion session, discreetly covering the bandage across her arm.
“What the fuck is of all this, Father?”
Lucius chugged what was left of his glass, slamming it down on the desk. He turned, and a shadow passed over his face, sending a small shock through Draco’s body.
“A warning, son.”
“From whom?” Draco’s voice wavered.
“The gala doesn’t just mark another bicentennial of Serpents & Skulls,” he sighed. “The charter stipulates that a regime can be challenged. New bi-laws can be put forth. I will push for a status quo, but Riddle is going to oppose me. He’s been putting the pieces in place for some time, I expect.”
“What kind of change?” Draco asked, pushing the photos aside to fiddle with the invitations. Each had the shine of freshly printed calligraphy. He located Hermione’s, lifting it carefully, and ghosting his finger over her name without smudging the ink.
The fire crackling in the corner disclosed more than Lucius. Draco laughed, shaking his head.
“You’re not going to tell me,” he assumed, “but you need something from me?”
“Your job will come later. You’re to lobby for me as best you can once the time comes. I’ll expect you to do what you can to sway the vote.”
“Have you talked to Snape about it?” Draco asked, stacking the invitations.
His father could play his cards close to the vest, but so could Draco. He’d learned from a master.
“Not yet,” he paused, the silence punctuated with exhales. “Son, I’ll need your help with that as well.”
I can’t stay away from you, Draco.
How unfair every vision of her was. How relentlessly taunting. It was like she never left his side, making true on the words she’d uttered in a desperate plea. A truth and a consequence.
He didn’t want her anywhere but by his side, but the time needed to be right.
“Good,” Draco replied, walking over and taking each of the doors of Lucius’ office in his hands before bringing them together at the close. “I’ll do it, and I have a very specific recompense in mind as well.”