Broken Noses
“Draco, are you okay?” Pansy questioned from behind me, her voice full of despair. He and I were both watching Harry retreat, the blond boy’s body still strung tight with white-hot anger. My hands shook with the remnants of adrenaline that was still working its way out of my system and it was all I could do to keep my eyes averted from Draco’s bruising skin.
“Fuck off, Pansy.” His voice was hard, earning a small sound of indignation from the girl. She still tried to clasp onto his arm, but he roughly tore it from her grip, not even sparing her a moment’s glance.
“Fine. You’re a fucking bore anyways. All you ever do is brood and whine,” Pansy stated, her steps clicking loudly against the stone as she finally made her exit. Her sickly sweet perfume met my nose as she left, making my headache instantly worse with the overwhelming scent.
That left only Draco and I. The castle was still rather empty, surrounding us with a crushing silence as each second ticked by, almost like someone had altered the state of time. Though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his presence, as if I had developed some odd sixth sense only for him. I didn’t know what to say. If there was anything to say at all.
I was angry; that much I did know. I was angry at the way he had talked about me to Pansy. To Harry. I was angry that he could dismiss me so harshly, yet still attack Harry seemingly in--
Well, not in defense of me. But that was how it had looked. It was surely how Harry had taken it, even if he had been the one to antagonize Draco in the first place.
Lately it felt like I was always angry at someone. It was exhausting.
My forearm where Harry had struck still stung. I was tempted to check for bruises, but it felt almost childish to do so when Draco was standing so near, surely still bleeding from a few of Harry’s many hits. It crossed my mind that I had seen Draco bruised and bloodied more times this year alone than I had seen him in the previous years combined.
That had to be a very, very bad omen.
Deafening silence still persisted, and I figured I might as well just leave. I had nothing to say to Draco after what had happened, so I turned to follow Harry’s earlier path down the stairs only to feel an icy hand grip my wrist. I suppressed a groan even as my heart leaped at the contact.
“Don’t tell anyone what happened,” Draco commanded as I was still turned away, his nails pressing into the tender flesh of my wrist.
His words sent a wave of irritation through me and I spun to face him. Thankfully I didn’t freeze at the sight of his face, stained as it was with fresh and drying blood, matched by the violently red and purple marks. “Really? You really think you have to tell me that after everything that’s happened this year? Jesus, how stupid do you think I am?” I replied angrily.
Draco’s face was calm, contrasting strangely with the gore painting his face. “I don’t think you want the answer to that question.”
I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp, but his grip was so tight around my frail wrist that I only succeeded in making it pop sickeningly. “You’re right, I don’t, because you’d take any chance you got to insult me. Let me go. I’m sick of being around you.”
“Not a very courteous thing to say to someone who just got in a fight because of you,” Draco growled, jerking me closer to him, my feet dragging against the stone floor. “I shouldn’t expect manners from a Muggle, though.”
I felt my face twist as confusion and bitterness hit me. “Excuse me? I didn’t make you fight Harry like the immature child you are. You both think you have ownership over me, or a say on how I spend my time, but you don’t .”
I scanned his face, waiting for any indication of the effects my words may have had. A trickle of bright crimson caught my attention, the liquid creating a red trail down from his nose to his slightly swollen split lips. They were slightly chapped, like he had been chewing on them. He either didn’t notice the blood or was choosing to ignore it because he didn’t wipe it away.
Draco scoffed, the scent of metal hitting me as I felt his breath tickle my face. “Like you didn’t enjoy us fighting over you. You practically beg for attention from both of us, and now you’re acting all high and mighty because you finally got it. You’re ridiculous.” His tone was soaked with haughty smugness. I suddenly felt his nose needed rebreaking.
“I’m ridiculous? That’s rich coming from you. You’re the one who--” I said, but stopped myself before finishing my sentence, because it was going in a direction that I was not keen on following.
You’re the one who cared enough to stop me last night only to turn around and treat me like I’m nothing today.
“I’m the one that what?” he challenged, his granite eyes bright with the beginning spark of his signature temper.
I didn’t answer, because I honestly didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t show how his actions were affecting me. Draco wasn’t a patient person though, and he squeezed my wrist harder, making me wince in pain.
“I’m the one that what ?” A demand this time, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.
I didn’t want to repeat this cycle again. I didn’t want to admit to him, once again, that what he had done had affected me. I wasn’t going to fold under the pressure. Not this time. For once I wanted to be the one in control.
“You’re the one who’s a massive fucking hypocrite,” I answered simply. “Let go.”
Draco snorted roughly. “Good one, Adler. Really hurt my feelings with that one.”
“See?” I shot back. “You are a huge, insufferably annoying dick who can’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.”
“Last I checked, you were the one that wanted me in your…” Draco paused, looking me up and down slowly, “ Business .”
My face flushed with embarrassment. “Let go . I’m serious,” I repeated, ignoring the flush of heat that his words sent through me.
Something in my voice seemed to capture his attention because he let go of my wrist. I brought it close to my body, softly rubbing the pulsing skin. I didn’t retreat though, as frigid as Draco’s gaze was, the cool wall of indifference once again concealing his would-be expressions.
“Go clean yourself up,” I mumbled. "You're dripping blood on the floor”
Draco shrugged. “So?”
“ So, ” I mimicked, “Don’t you think it’s going to be just a bit strange if people see you walking around with blood plastered all over you?”
“If you care so damn much about it, you do it.”
I almost refused, almost told him to go to hell, but…
It would be suspicious if people saw him so bloody, I rationalized.
“Come on, then,” I said.
Draco’s brows furrowed. “What?”
I looked at him as if to say, Seriously? “You told me if it bothers me that I should do it, so come on. Let’s get this over with so you can get on to whatever stupid plans you have for the rest of the day.”
Draco didn’t respond, but trailed behind me as I walked, always just a few steps away. The amount of surprise that went through me as he actually followed me was barely measurable; I had assumed he would’ve been stubborn. It would’ve surprised me far less if he acted repulsed at the idea of me cleaning him up, like he had so many times before.
I was headed towards a relatively unused bathroom on that floor, one tucked at the end of winding corridors that students rarely ever went down. Not because I wanted to be alone with Draco, but because I didn’t want anyone seeing us together. I pushed open the door to the girl’s toilet, but Draco hung back with an incredulous look on his face.
“Jesus,” I sighed. “No one uses this, like ever. Stop being a priss and get in before I leave all that dried blood on you.”
Draco shot me a heated glare, but stalked past me, letting the door slam roughly behind him. He leaned against the edge of the long line of connected porcelain sinks, his skin blending in almost effortlessly with the tile. Grabbing a handful of towels, I ran them under water in a sink adjacent to Draco, twisting the handle slightly to make sure it wasn’t too cold on his skin.
Because that would make it harder to get the blood off.
His eyes followed me as I wetted the towels and moved in front of him. The urge to shy away from his intense stare was difficult to ignore, but I gulped softly and examined his face. Draco’s cologne was making it incredibly hard to focus, but I forced myself to decide which bit of his face to start with.
I avoided touching any part of him aside from the hand that held the towel, meaning that I had to lean awkwardly over his long legs that were stretched out in front of him. His mouth and nose had much more blood than his eyebrow and the small cut on his cheekbone, but I didn’t think I could handle being so near his mouth with my mind being slightly foggy from my persistent headache. Lifting the towel, I pressed it gently to the cut lining his blond brow, making Draco hiss quietly through clenched teeth. I rubbed away at the crusted blood with short, stiff movements, willing my hands not to shake. My awkward position made it difficult to work effectively, but there was no way in hell I was going to ask Draco to open his legs for me.
“I’m just meeting my father later, so don’t worry about making me late,” Draco said, his voice echoing in the empty restroom. I ignored the way the sound made my heart speed up.
“Oh,” I responded. “Good to know.”
I wasn’t really sure why he had offered up that bit of information, honestly. I hadn’t asked about his plans, only acknowledged that he had some. Curiosity was a bastard though, and I began wondering why his father was coming to the school to meet with him. Lucius Malfoy was at the school quite often, but usually only for board meetings and the like.
“I…” Draco began, but stopped as I pressed too roughly against one of his cuts. “Fuck, Adler, be careful.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” I shot back, but I did soften my movements as I finished with his brow and moved to his cheekbone.
“It’s probably best my father doesn’t see me like this,” Draco said.
That was about as close as I would probably ever get to hearing him say I was right, which made me smile a bit before I wiped it off my face quickly.
“Probably,” I agreed as I continued my work.
The towel I was using was dry, so I tossed the stained object into the trash and went to get another one, wetting it like I had the last in a sink next to Draco. When I moved back however, Draco had relaxed his legs, creating a space just wide enough for me to slot into. He looked as if he hadn’t even known he had moved, which he probably didn’t. Why would he move just for me?
I paused as I looked at him, noticeably enough that Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, get on with it.”
There wasn’t much space at all between his legs still. There was enough that I could practically stand with my front pressing into his, but every bit of him would still be so close. My chest felt tight as I worked up the courage to move.
The idea of standing between his suit-clad thighs, pressing into his hips...I forced myself to nod, swallowing nervously. I slid between his legs, now close enough that I could actually work properly. My hip bones grazed his thighs as I moved closer and I winced, sure that he was going to get upset at me touching him like that, even on accident. Draco didn’t even flinch, didn’t even look at me as I lifted the new towel to his face.
Really, all the blood was gone aside from the rust-colored stains on his mouth and nose, but my mind was already racing from being between his legs. I needed just a few moments to right myself, to find that common sense I knew I had somewhere, so I aimlessly rubbed at his already-clean cheek. He wasn’t bothering to keep his head still, so I mindlessly brought up my free hand to press to his jaw. I realized what I was doing, but I had already touched him. I figured it would be far weirder if I moved away, so I kept my hand against his face. His jaw was sharp, his skin hot as I held him still.
“Is my nose broken?” Draco asked suddenly, and I paused my work, leaning back to examine it.
It was red and swelling a bit, the bridge of his strong nose crooked to the side minutely. “Maybe a bit.”
Draco sighed. “Something can’t be broken a bit . Is it or isn’t it?”
“It...is,” I told him uncertainly. “Do you want me to--”
“Yes, fine,” He said, pulling his face away from my touch for the first time since I started.
Setting down the blood-stained towel, I fished my wand out of my waistband and aimed it at his injured nose. I knew the spell; I had even used it on myself a time or two, but using it on Draco was making me nervous.
I didn’t want to hurt him.
I spoke the spell forcefully, earning a crack and a rough groan from Draco as he brought his hand up to feel his nose.
His words were muffled because of his hand, but--
“Not bad,” Draco mumbled, and I could’ve sworn there was a hint of admiration in his words.
I shrugged, willing my face not to flush too badly. “I’ve had some practice with that particular spell.”
Tucking my wand away, I picked up the towel and told myself it was time to stop stalling. I finally brought it up to his newly-healed nose, beginning to wipe away the blood smeared across the top of his lips.
“On yourself?” He asked, interrupting my work.
“Yes,” I said simply.
“What happened?”
I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut with annoyance. “I can’t work if you keep talking,” I pointed out, making him shut his mouth once more. Though. . . perhaps I could tell him, just to make time pass faster.
“I was thirteen. Some older Hufflepuff boy was being stupid and swinging his bookbag around in the hallway and ended up smacking me in the face.”
Draco snorted, but stayed still.
“I didn’t want to bother Madam Pomfrey for something so small, so I asked Hermione how and just fixed it myself,” I told him, wiping away the last bits of gore surrounding his nose.
I left out the part that I had been too scared to go to Madam Pomfrey because I was worried she would notice the myriad of examples my body carried of how my father treated me.
Now the hard part .
I slid my hand down his jaw towards me so that I would have more stability and forced myself not to think about how warm Draco’s lips had been against mine the night before. Heat coiled in my core as I touched his mouth gently, feeling his eyes on me.
“Then last year, I had to use it again because...well, I’m sure you remember that delightful little trick you pulled with Zabini in Herbology with the pot you enchanted to hit me,” I continued, hoping that recalling the stinging sensation of the clay pot shattering against my face would offer some distraction. A distraction from how close I was to those lips that I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind for weeks.
Draco nodded slightly, humming in affirmation. Of course he remembered; he had laughed about it so hard he’d been in tears.
It was becoming ever harder to clean up the dried crimson caking Draco’s mouth without thinking about how delicious his mouth had tasted the night before. Or about how firmly we had been pressed together before he had put a stop to everything. I hadn’t given myself the chance to look up at Draco and see his reaction to all of this. Most of that hesitation sprung from the fact that I was sure he would be either entirely repulsed, or just wholly indifferent to me being so close. I didn’t really know which would’ve made me feel worse.
Finally, the last spots of blood were wiped away, returning Draco’s face to his usual pristine state. It felt nearly impossible to pull my hand away, but I managed it. Not a single speck of scarlet remained; only two pink cuts marring his skin indicated he had been hurt at all that day. I pulled the rag away, but kept it in my hands, needing something to distract me from the tempting boy in front of me.
I still refused to meet his gaze, even as Draco spoke, his voice quiet: “I broke my nose once. Or, my father did. I was ten.”
It was awful that that didn’t surprise me in the least, but I stilled, hoping he would continue. Draco offering up any sort of personal detail, even just in response to me offering some first...
“That cane of his really packs quite a punch,” Draco said casually, as if he were mentioning the state of the weather.
I could hear a small quiver in his voice, though. I wouldn’t have been able to pick it out unless I was as close to him as I was now, his thighs still a warm whisper of a presence against my hips. He had never mentioned any of his father’s abuse outside of the time I had found him nearly beaten half to death, but it wasn’t a secret. Everyone at Hogwarts suspected his father was a vindictive bastard who liked to take his anger out on his only child.
Bruises were much harder to hide than most people thought.
Lucius Malfoy probably thought that treating Draco like he was worthless would turn him into his ideal child: devoted, mindless, and unquestioning. It seemed, though, that maybe...maybe his treatment was turning Draco into the opposite.
Was it foolish to think that? Surely.
Did it stop me? Not in the slightest.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing that sentiment was practically useless. I had always hated when people had apologized for my own father’s actions. It wasn’t their fault, but I understood a bit more now why they felt compelled to apologize.
Draco’s hand suddenly grazed my chin, making me flinch in surprise. I didn’t pull back, though. Two of his slender fingers slid under my chin, tilting my head up so that I was finally looking at him. Warmth spiraled from where his skin touched mine like it did every time he was so near. The storm-gray streaks in his irises that I normally didn’t get to see made me look on in dazed wonder as he spoke again.
“I think you understand more than anyone that that doesn’t mean anything,” He told me, but there was nothing vicious in his words.
I nodded in agreement. As much as we used to loathe having anything to do with each other, we did have that shared connection of fathers that treated us like little more than the dirt they walked on.
Sometimes, they even treated us less than that.
“You’re lucky, though,” Draco whispered, as if he were afraid someone would hear him. “You’re out.”
The words, the way he said them almost longingly, hurt . It was as if he were...jealous, or something similar. I realized he was right, though. I was out. I had no further obligation to my father, especially not in the way that Draco did. Something about talking about his father had caused a strange air to surround Draco, as if, for a few seconds, we could speak freely without hatred and pride hounding us at every step. It was the first time either of us had mentioned anything about what had happened to me over break since the day we returned. I didn't know that he still remembered; why would he? My father kicking me out should've been of no concern to him.
I guess I hadn’t let myself realize just how much our fathers connected us. Draco and I would always have that horrible secret in common, and I...I think that it made us far more similar than I had thought. No one else in our lives would ever understand that part of us more than each other.
That thought made me feel something about Draco that would’ve shocked myself even three weeks ago.
A sense of… sameness . The gravity of understanding that made my chest tighten. Possibly the two of us had despised each other so much because of how alike we were. Perhaps I had seen the worst of myself in Draco, the parts that I never wanted to face, and he had seen the same in me.
And now, Draco confessing that perhaps we had another thing in common, that we both wanted to escape...
That was the first time I ever let myself think that maybe Draco didn’t want everything that he claimed he did.
“You could be, too,” I breathed, not thinking about my words, about what they implied.
Draco shook his head, even as he leaned in, making my heart thud almost painfully with anticipation. “No, Elaine, I can’t. I'm not like you. I can't just do whatever I want whenever I want. I-I have obligations. You wouldn't understand. You could never understand.”
The emotion flickering in his eyes sent an uneasy feeling shooting through me, and I wondered what sort of obligations could have a seventeen year-old boy so incredibly distraught and terrified.
I was about to protest, to say that I certainly could understand, but I didn't get the chance. His mouth pressed to mine before I could even reply, his lips cautious, as if it were the first time we had ever kissed. Gently, so gently , his lips caressed mine with more uncertainty that I had ever seen from the usually-cocky boy. My nervous system felt electrified as he kissed me, like his touch sent shocks rippling through me.
All our kisses before this had been hasty, angry, full of want, but this one? It was tender, hesitant, as if we were entering into a new territory that we had never let ourselves think of venturing into. Draco’s hand stayed gently cupping my chin, and my hands stayed wrapped around the stained towel I still held. As much as fiery want was building in me, I wanted to focus on the feeling of his plush mouth against mine, and only on that feeling.
I wanted to savor his softness, because I had never seen it before, and I doubted I would ever see it again. I had to remember every curve of his mouth, every way that he moved his lips against mine in a sort of slow waltz. This was the only time, I told myself.
This was the only time I would let myself receive such tender, tentative affection, especially from Draco.
The kiss was chaste, incredibly at odds with all our other intimate encounters, but my knees were weaker than ever before as he swiped his tongue against my bottom lip once. It was a brushing touch, no more than a moment, but it made my head spin nonetheless. Draco’s hand slid to cup the side of my face, his hand moving slowly, as if he were memorizing the feel of my skin.
I set the towel I had been twisting in my hands aside, hesitantly bringing them up to lightly rest on either side of his elegant face. Draco didn’t even flinch at my touch, which seemed a pathetic thing to be encouraged by, but I was. It might’ve been due to the fact that in the back of my mind, some part of me realized how much Draco had to at least want to trust me to let me touch him so carefully. His skin was cold beneath my hands, his cheeks smooth without even the hint of stubble poking through.
Our mouths were tangled in a steady, sweet kiss that seemed to be all my mind could think about. His lips fit so perfectly between mine, as if they had been sculpted from matching molds, and I never wanted the vulnerable, rare moment to end.
Especially not as he traveled his hand to the back of my head, pulling me into him as he carded his fingers through my hair that was most likely still a mess from sleep the night before. With his action, my hips were now flush with his, though I didn’t feel the same urgency from the previous encounter. I only felt the beginning of a bittersweet longing as I realized that this was going to end eventually. This kiss wasn’t...it wasn’t going to happen again.
As he pressed the deepest, most heart wrenching kiss to my mouth yet, I realized just how terribly I wanted this fragile, precious connection to happen again. I was returning his kiss with emotions that I hoped conveyed exactly how I was feeling, because I knew getting the words out to express that to Draco …
I doubted he would even let me speak them.
Draco, pulled back with a slowness that made my heart wrench terribly as our lips finally parted. He didn’t speak. Draco merely looked at me and I met his gaze, hoping that I would find some indication there of how he was feeling.
“I have to go,” Draco breathed softly, his hand still wound through my hair. His words made a pining ache course through me, and I hoped it wasn’t clear on my face how gutted I was that he was going to leave.
I knew him leaving meant leaving this moment behind, and I wanted anything but that.
Words seemed impossible to form, so I only responded with a slight dip of my chin to indicate that I understood. I stepped out of his reach as he slipped his hand from my hair, the absence of warmth far too noticeable as he gave me one last look before moving around me.
"If you tell anyone about my father, or-"
Gone was the soft, humane boy; Draco's usual fiery countenance returned with fervor as, even in such a short sentence, his words held such a promising threat.
"I know," I responded, before Draco could once again tell me not to mention this to a single living soul.
"And don't leave right after I do. I don't want people to think that-"
That we were doing exactly what we had just done?
It didn't surprise me that he still was so scared of anyone finding out he'd even given me the time of day, but that didn't mean it didn't still sting. I wished it didn't.
I simply nodded in response, wanting him to just leave so that I could process whatever the hell had just happened. I could feel that familiar sense of panic welling up in me, and I couldn't stand the thought of him witnessing the semi-breakdown that was clawing its way up my throat quicker by the second. Guilt, shame, dread, you name it, it was threatening to drown me any moment.
I didn’t turn around, but I could see his retreating form in the mirror in front of me. He wiped his palm on his pants as he left, as if he couldn't bear to feel the traces of my skin on his any longer.
I could’ve sworn he hesitated before he opened the door and walked through it. The sound of it shutting felt far too loud, far too real for what had just happened between us.