Fuck

The next day he didn’t go to work. He wrote Dumbledore a note and an excuse, wallowed in his pity at home by himself.

Pushed every thought of Lena from his mind.

Decided it was time to go out. To get some bloody air. A break from that small village and school.

He took his black flying Mercedes instead of his broom, figuring he needed to get far fast.

Away to the seaside, to the beach, to the open air.

Everything that could’ve happened perfectly, did happen. but it wasn’t about the soul-crashing sex or the way she looked completely naked laid out in front of him, it was the fact that she’d used him and he’d let her because he liked it, too.

He sat with his feet in the sand, his arms tied tightly around his knees, staring out into the waves trying to reevaluate his life.

It all began with astoria, he never wanted her, he never even found her sexually attractive. The idea of his parents forcing him into something like that with someone like her was revolting. He didn’t even know how she felt, and that’s what bothered him the most. And it was the same with Lena, too, in a fucked up sense.

Lena waltzed into his life like something out of a fucking fairytale. It wasn’t arranged, it was entirely unexpected, it was a fever dream if anything. He got to know her though, which is what fucked him up more. And the fact that she didn’t even tell him about the whole truth involving her own marriage… felt like salt getting rubbed into the wound. Harsh. rough. Painful.

He went back and forth between, she’s using me to get to him and she’s using me for her own pleasure. And quite frankly, he couldn’t decide which idea drove him crazier. And most importantly, why.

Part of him liked the idea of her using him to get off, liked the idea of him driving her crazy for once, even if it was just between the sheets.

But then the other part of him, that anxious, nagging, knuckle-cracking, nail-biting, cigarette-chain-smoking part of him, didn’t like it. Not because he didn’t want to be used by her, but because he didn’t want to be used against Thomas. That piece of shit, bastard didn’t deserve her. Not her love, not her hate, not her time, not her beauty or her thoughts. Not one bit of her.

He was selfish in thinking that way, and he truly didn’t care. He didn’t care what it made him. He just wanted her. Wanted every bit of her. Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally.

It wouldn’t be easy, either. But nothing ever really was.

—

The rest of the week he’d safely made it without seeing her once. There’d been a few moments where he’d thought he’d seen a glimpse of her hair, or a peek of her eclectic outfits, or a brief sound of her heels tapping on the stones, but it always was a miss.

He’d been called to Dumbledore’s office for a meeting over his department, an annual end of the year sort of thing he did with new teachers. Nothing scared him about it. Until he stood in his doorway, his heart nearly beating right out of his chest for some bloody reason.

Palms sweaty, knees weak, stomach tying in knots.

Something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

Dumbledore was waiting for him in his office, staring out at the spring blossoms from his window. The weather was perfect, the man was in a good mood, but the air… the fucking air was thick.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore sighing happily. “How was your weekend?”

He paused for a moment, startled by the personal question from the man who wasn’t so personal with him. “Good, it was fine—“

“—and your mother?”

“—my mother is good, she’s good. And you?”

“She and I write back and forth, did you know that?” He looked at him. “I have many penpals, young Draco.”

“Sir, I—“ Draco began, stumped. “I don’t know what you mean. I thought this was the annual—“

“—the annual meetings are not only for scholarly efforts, but for personal efforts, too. I like checking in on my professors. It’s a tough job, as you know, living away from anything other than this place. It's magical, yes, but it’s also purgatory in a sense.”

“Like a time warp.” Draco mumbled. Sort of understanding where he was coming from now. But still concerned about the ‘him and his mother part’.

“I still feel like I’m twenty-seven, teaching transfiguration, my whole life ahead of me.”

“Well you’re very lively for a man of your age, I’ll give you that.”

“You know who else is very lively for a man his age?” Dumbledore asked him, a twinkle in his eyes. “Your mother worries about you, she writes constantly, asking me how you are. And you know what I tell her? He’s happier than I’ve ever known him to be. Not because you’ve left her, not because you left outdated family traditions behind, not because you’re working for me, but because you’ve finally began to follow your heart, Draco.”

“And what does she say to that?”

“That it makes her happy, too.” He said with a smile. “So, dear Draco, keep following your heart. she won’t be around forever.”

Draco's eyes widened with anxiety, his stomach erupted with butterflies, heart fluttering like a rabid snitch. Eyebrows scrunched together. How did the old bat know everything?

“Go, go now.” Dumbledore said, egging him on. “I may be old, but I’m not blind!”
Draco didn’t even bother running to his room, he summoned his broomstick as soon as he left Dumbledore’s office. Racing up to the astronomy tower to jet off to the woman in his dreams.

He pounded on the door, shouting for her, begging her to just listen to him, and when she didn’t, he continued on his plight.

“Lena Periwinkle I fucked up! I’m sorry! I was afraid of you, afraid of myself, afraid of everything—“ he shouted up at her window. Hoping and praying that she was up there listening. “I’m not afraid anymore!”

Seconds later the door opened and a frail old man appeared angered, “she’s not here! Would you please take your follies elsewhere, young man!”

He took a step back, startled, and gathered himself. Apologizing as the man slammed the door in his face. The sound of a crack! ripping through the street and his body.

Dumbledore had been right, but Lena was always two steps ahead. He couldn’t out-wit a runner. He couldn’t possibly win the chase.

She was gone.

—