Ficlet: Midnight Encounter (Draco/Tracey)
Jun. 10th, 2010 02:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rarepair_shortsTitle: Midnight Encounter
Pairing: Draco/Tracey
Prompt: once upon a midnight dreary
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,028
Summary: Draco stumbles across her atop the Astronomy Tower.
Author's Notes: Part Two.
Link to Prompt Table: The Hollow Man
There’s something peculiar about the girl who exists only in the background.
If that were simply her temperament, a character quirk or flaw, then Draco could understand it. But he has seen Tracey Davis and Nott with their heads bent together in their own little corner of the library, murmuring and laughing, thick as thieves. If they were merely outcasts banding together to stay afloat in the cutthroat atmosphere of politics and power plays, that too he could understand. But he has seen the way she manipulates Pansy – Ribbons are rather obvious, aren’t they? I saw this Hufflepuff first year with horrid lacy ones in her hair, she says before Pansy can declare whatever pink monstrosity she’s about to show off is in this season. And the next time Daphne coos over ribbons, he hears Pansy snort and mock her for not realizing how vulgar and conspicuous they are, an opinion she’s now convinced she herself originated.
He doesn’t know what Davis is after but he guesses it’s popularity, except even that strikes him as unfounded. She takes care to answer only enough questions in class to keep the professors from labeling her a slacker but not enough that they’d have reason to commend her. When they all pile on the lounge chairs in the common room at night, she sits quietly behind the other girls. At meals, her seat is closest to the third years, an unenviable position, while he holds court beside the fifth years. If it weren’t for her unusual coloring—pale skin, black hair and dull blue eyes—he might’ve missed her altogether. As it were, he doesn’t if only because in almost four years, he’s never spoken a word to her.
The night after he invites Nott to the Manor, he finds her perched on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, her forehead pressed against the cool metal of the railing, her legs dangling through the bars. A rush of annoyance tightens his chest. He’s braved patrolling prefects and Filch’s damned cat only for someone else to beat him here.
“What are you doing here?” he asks harshly.
Davis startles when his voice snaps in the humid night air. Pushing back from the bars with tense fingers, she darts a lightning glance over her shoulder, but at the sight of him in the doorway, she relaxes perceptibly. “Oh, you. The same reason as you, I expect,” she answers.
He strolls out of the shadows into the clear moonlight. “And what reason’s that?”
“Well, unless you’re a high-functioning sleepwalker, I’m guessing you can’t sleep, either. I come here sometimes when I can't.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” she says, a rueful smile crooking her lips. “You don’t usually stay this late.”
Draco hesitates for a beat, suddenly feeling as though he is the intruder and this place her sanctum, but he shakes it off with forward motion, stepping beside her. He sits down, mimicking her pose. “Been avoiding me, have you?”
“Not really,” she replies, tone careless. “Maybe I couldn’t be bothered to make small talk.”
“I don’t believe you. And this hardly feels like small talk.”
“No?”
“Tomorrow you’ll scurry back to being Pansy’s otherwise invisible lackey and I’ll act like I don’t know you.”
“So?”
“So, tonight doesn’t matter. Anything we say stays here. The only reason to exchange pleasantries is if you’re interested in keeping in touch, and since you’re going to avoid me and I’m going to pretend I don’t notice you, we might as well dispense with banalities altogether.”
Resting her temple against the railing, she slants him a curious look. “What makes you think I have anything else to say to you?”
“I don’t.” He shrugs as if her response is of no importance. “That part’s up to you.”
“Sorry, but your opinion doesn’t matter enough for me to humor you either way.” she speaks, tone light, not sounding sorry at all.
He snorts. “So you do have claws. A pity you’re wasting them on me instead of sharpening them on Pansy.”
“Take care that she doesn’t hear you,” she warns wryly. “She thinks asking her to the Yule Ball is a rung below a proposal.”
For a second, he casts his mind back to the dance. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”
Davis arches a brow, a mocking glint in her blue eyes. “And why should you?”
“You must’ve gone.”
“And?”
He frowns. “What’s the point of this skulking-in-the-woodwork act of yours? You don’t strike me as shy.”
“No,” she agrees. “But then you don’t strike me as an insomniac, and yet here we are.”
“I’m not an insomniac,” he bites off sharply.
“Not usually, no. Unless there’s a Quidditch match on.”
“Oh, you know me so well, do you?” he retorts.
“Well enough.”
Her nonchalance angers him; he’s never seen her anything but placid, and suddenly he wants to rile her. “I come here because it’s the closest thing to flying without a broom. What’s your excuse?”
“Why do I need one? Maybe I’m an astronomy fanatic,” she counters, cocking her head as if the notion amuses her.
“It’s midnight. You risked detention by sneaking out. Astronomy, my arse,” he says dryly. “Doing it too brown, Tracey.”
“We’re on a first-name basis now, are we?”
“I told you. Tonight doesn’t matter. We’ll both forget all this tomorrow.”
“No,” she says slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”
An acerbic smile turns the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me I’ve made an impression.”
Davis laughs, and the clear, melodic sound jars. In another life, or maybe just away from him, she must sing, he thinks. “Rubbish,” she dismisses. “You know you already have, what with your pompous strutting about all the time.”
She laughs again when he looks down his nose at her, anxiety and anticipation and annoyance long forgotten.
Pairing: Draco/Tracey
Prompt: once upon a midnight dreary
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,028
Summary: Draco stumbles across her atop the Astronomy Tower.
Author's Notes: Part Two.
Link to Prompt Table: The Hollow Man
There’s something peculiar about the girl who exists only in the background.
If that were simply her temperament, a character quirk or flaw, then Draco could understand it. But he has seen Tracey Davis and Nott with their heads bent together in their own little corner of the library, murmuring and laughing, thick as thieves. If they were merely outcasts banding together to stay afloat in the cutthroat atmosphere of politics and power plays, that too he could understand. But he has seen the way she manipulates Pansy – Ribbons are rather obvious, aren’t they? I saw this Hufflepuff first year with horrid lacy ones in her hair, she says before Pansy can declare whatever pink monstrosity she’s about to show off is in this season. And the next time Daphne coos over ribbons, he hears Pansy snort and mock her for not realizing how vulgar and conspicuous they are, an opinion she’s now convinced she herself originated.
He doesn’t know what Davis is after but he guesses it’s popularity, except even that strikes him as unfounded. She takes care to answer only enough questions in class to keep the professors from labeling her a slacker but not enough that they’d have reason to commend her. When they all pile on the lounge chairs in the common room at night, she sits quietly behind the other girls. At meals, her seat is closest to the third years, an unenviable position, while he holds court beside the fifth years. If it weren’t for her unusual coloring—pale skin, black hair and dull blue eyes—he might’ve missed her altogether. As it were, he doesn’t if only because in almost four years, he’s never spoken a word to her.
The night after he invites Nott to the Manor, he finds her perched on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, her forehead pressed against the cool metal of the railing, her legs dangling through the bars. A rush of annoyance tightens his chest. He’s braved patrolling prefects and Filch’s damned cat only for someone else to beat him here.
“What are you doing here?” he asks harshly.
Davis startles when his voice snaps in the humid night air. Pushing back from the bars with tense fingers, she darts a lightning glance over her shoulder, but at the sight of him in the doorway, she relaxes perceptibly. “Oh, you. The same reason as you, I expect,” she answers.
He strolls out of the shadows into the clear moonlight. “And what reason’s that?”
“Well, unless you’re a high-functioning sleepwalker, I’m guessing you can’t sleep, either. I come here sometimes when I can't.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” she says, a rueful smile crooking her lips. “You don’t usually stay this late.”
Draco hesitates for a beat, suddenly feeling as though he is the intruder and this place her sanctum, but he shakes it off with forward motion, stepping beside her. He sits down, mimicking her pose. “Been avoiding me, have you?”
“Not really,” she replies, tone careless. “Maybe I couldn’t be bothered to make small talk.”
“I don’t believe you. And this hardly feels like small talk.”
“No?”
“Tomorrow you’ll scurry back to being Pansy’s otherwise invisible lackey and I’ll act like I don’t know you.”
“So?”
“So, tonight doesn’t matter. Anything we say stays here. The only reason to exchange pleasantries is if you’re interested in keeping in touch, and since you’re going to avoid me and I’m going to pretend I don’t notice you, we might as well dispense with banalities altogether.”
Resting her temple against the railing, she slants him a curious look. “What makes you think I have anything else to say to you?”
“I don’t.” He shrugs as if her response is of no importance. “That part’s up to you.”
“Sorry, but your opinion doesn’t matter enough for me to humor you either way.” she speaks, tone light, not sounding sorry at all.
He snorts. “So you do have claws. A pity you’re wasting them on me instead of sharpening them on Pansy.”
“Take care that she doesn’t hear you,” she warns wryly. “She thinks asking her to the Yule Ball is a rung below a proposal.”
For a second, he casts his mind back to the dance. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”
Davis arches a brow, a mocking glint in her blue eyes. “And why should you?”
“You must’ve gone.”
“And?”
He frowns. “What’s the point of this skulking-in-the-woodwork act of yours? You don’t strike me as shy.”
“No,” she agrees. “But then you don’t strike me as an insomniac, and yet here we are.”
“I’m not an insomniac,” he bites off sharply.
“Not usually, no. Unless there’s a Quidditch match on.”
“Oh, you know me so well, do you?” he retorts.
“Well enough.”
Her nonchalance angers him; he’s never seen her anything but placid, and suddenly he wants to rile her. “I come here because it’s the closest thing to flying without a broom. What’s your excuse?”
“Why do I need one? Maybe I’m an astronomy fanatic,” she counters, cocking her head as if the notion amuses her.
“It’s midnight. You risked detention by sneaking out. Astronomy, my arse,” he says dryly. “Doing it too brown, Tracey.”
“We’re on a first-name basis now, are we?”
“I told you. Tonight doesn’t matter. We’ll both forget all this tomorrow.”
“No,” she says slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”
An acerbic smile turns the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me I’ve made an impression.”
Davis laughs, and the clear, melodic sound jars. In another life, or maybe just away from him, she must sing, he thinks. “Rubbish,” she dismisses. “You know you already have, what with your pompous strutting about all the time.”
She laughs again when he looks down his nose at her, anxiety and anticipation and annoyance long forgotten.
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Date: 2010-06-10 10:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-14 12:38 am (UTC)Great job!