Title: Tiny People With Tiny Lives
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Rose, past Draco/Astoria
Warnings: Mild Violence (slapping)
Word Count: 1,805
Prompt: 49. "Love is for tiny people with tiny lives." - The House of Yes (submitted by drcjsnider)
Notes: A thousand and one thanks to my wonderful beta.
"What was that?" Rose practically screamed when the effect of Side-Along Apparition had worn off. Her voice was so shrill and loud Draco was so very tempted to silence her.
"I'm quite sure you already know the answer to that one," Draco remarked. He loosened his tie and took it off, throwing it on the bed. In an attempt to distract himself from what was probably about to become a major fight, he sauntered over to the window and gazed out. The late night sky was bright tonight. There were many stars out and it was almost a full moon.
"That's not quite the answer I was looking for," mumbled Rose. He could hear her pacing up and down, something she tended to do when she was most agitated. "I wanted to introduce you to my family. Why did you Apparate us away?"
"I didn't want to be introduced. There's no point. They already know me." Looking at the street down below, Draco saw people hurrying home from work, wrapped up in their warm winter clothes. Then there were the other types of people, the party people, who were wearing clothes that just weren't appropriate for this time of year. Muggles really did confuse him.
"They don't know you're my boyfriend," Rose countered, and Draco couldn't help but snort. It was an involuntary reaction to her ridiculous claim. "What now?" she added, sounding far too like her mother for his taste.
Draco didn't bother to turn around to answer her; if she saw his face, she'd probably try to make a connection with him, and that was something he didn't want. "Boyfriend? I don't ever recall us being boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Well," Rose started, her voice faltering a bit. It appeared she had the wrong end of the stick, and he couldn't help but wonder how some women got so confused. "We're going out, aren't we?"
"No," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "We're shagging. There's a difference."
"What difference?" There was the same shrill tone again.
"If we were going out, I'd want to do things like meet your family, spend time with you outside of the bedroom." He looked over his shoulder briefly, saw her confused expression, and then turned his attentions back to the window. In the distant sky he could see an aeroplane, one of those rather large objects that Muggles used to get about in. He didn't understand why anyone would get in some sort of flying machine if they wanted to keep their life. "As it happens, I just want to shag you."
There was a long, awkward silence. Or, it would have been awkward if Draco had given a damn. Then, at last, Rose spoke. She seemed affronted, and he supposed he couldn't really blame her. "I... I can't believe what I'm hearing. You're lying. You're just saying this because you got scared, worried about what my family would think. Or say."
Draco laughed; he couldn't help it. The notion really was that laughable. He'd never given a damn what Weasley and Granger thought of him, and now he was shagging their daughter; he was certainly the one with the cards in his hand. There was nothing to be scared of or worried about. "Right. Because it couldn't possibly be that you're only good for a fuck. Or that I'm using you to get back at your parents."
"N-no," Rose stammered. "We've been going out for months, nearly a year even. We were going to spend Christmas together."
At this, Draco turned around. He had to see her face now, to see if she was genuine with the utter rubbish she was spouting. By her expression, it would appear she was, and he couldn't help but smirk. "Were we? I don't ever recall agreeing to that. And to correct you, we've been shagging for months. I have never asked you out, never called you my girlfriend and certainly never done anything with you that didn't involve sex. You can't seriously not have noticed that and realised exactly what this relationship is."
"See!" Rose's expression had turned from one of confusion and sadness to one of hope, and he wondered what he could have possibly said now that had given her that idea. "You said 'relationship'! You just admitted we're going out."
Draco sighed loudly, annoyed that she hadn't listened properly and had simply latched onto a word she thought she could use to turn this whole sorry situation around. Because it was a sorry situation, Draco certainly didn't want an emotional wreck on his hands. Sometimes, shagging girls that were half his age could be rather problematic. "Everyone has a relationship, Weasley. I have a relationship with my house-elf, my boss, the woman in Twilfit and Tattings who fits me for robes. None of them seem to believe they're going out with me. Except, perhaps, the woman in Twilfit and Tattings, if she's got the wrong end of the stick like you. The definition of a 'relationship' is simply a connection between two people."
"You're shagging someone else?" She was scowling at him now, screwing up the pretty little face that he'd been attracted to.
"I'm shagging lots of women," Draco replied matter-of-factly. "Only on rare occasions does this seem to occur. Most of them know the score, and it makes me wonder where I went wrong with you."
"Quite," spat Rose. No longer was she upset or stammering. She seemed to be fronting the temper that her Aunt was well known for. "I can't believe this."
"No," mused Draco. "Neither can I."
Ignoring him, apparently on a roll, Rose was pacing the room even faster now, scanning the floor methodically as if it had all the answers. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to go out with the likes of you. I should have listened when my family warned me about you, about your son. Told me to stay away from your family. Scorpius seems all right; perhaps Astoria is a better mother than you are father. After all, I don't recall hearing about her in History of Magic when Death Eaters were mentioned."
It was Draco's turn to scowl now, and he advanced on her quickly, interrupting her path, stopping her pacing. "Excuse me?" His tone was dark and daring her to continue, daring her to insult him again. Nobody ever dared do that anymore, and it infuriated him that it was a Weasley who had the guts to do it now.
"You heard me," Rose hissed. "You're nothing but Death Eater scum."
As she finished the last syllable, Draco pushed her against the bedroom wall, glaring into her face. They were only mere inches apart; he could to do anything to her and she wouldn't be able to stop him. "And you're nothing but the daughter of a Mudblood and a Blood Traitor. What does that make you? When those two collide, the results can never be good."
"Then your standards must be slipping," Rose continued, not at all being frightened by him. It confused him; usually this sort of act had people running a mile. Everyone was well aware of his past, knew what he was capable of. "Because they were apparently good enough to shag me."
Draco slapped her, backhanded her. He couldn't help it. Her words made him angry, pushed him over the edge. He was ashamed, as much as he'd never admit it, and took a step back, giving her breathing space. Her cheek was bright red, but so were her eyes. She wasn't scared at all, and he wasn't even prepared when she slapped him back. She'd actually slapped him with such a force that his cheek was left stinging, and he was completely taken aback, not sure what to do. Nobody else had ever treated him like this, except for her mother. Why wasn't he surprised?
"There's your connection," Rose spat, turning towards the door. She began muttering to herself as she left, and he managed to catch the words, "... can't believe I thought such a prat loved me..."
"Love is for tiny people with tiny lives," Draco called after her, though not very loudly. If she heard him at all, she didn't acknowledge him. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but her outburst had actually made him see her in a different light. In the sort of light he hadn't seen in anyone in a long time. Not since Astoria had he actually wanted to go out with anyone; nobody had created a spark in him like his ex-wife had. Until now. Until Rose. Why she hadn't shown this sort of passion earlier on in their relationship was a mystery to him.
Angry, embarrassed and ashamed of himself for thinking of someone like her in the same way he'd thought of his ex-wife, he kicked the bed, scuffing his shoes, the shoes that Astoria had bought him. Ever since they'd split, he hadn't been able to stop fucking around with women half his age. After the first time he'd got Rose into bed, he'd congratulated himself on shagging his old school enemies' daughter. He knew exactly what Astoria would say if she found out; Rose was right. Astoria was a better mother than he was a father. She was a much better person.
Needing a Firewhiskey, Draco headed downstairs and to the kitchen. "Tiny people with tiny lives," he repeated as he poured himself a glass. It would be the first of many tonight, he knew, for it had been the same every night since Astoria had gone. Rose's words echoed in his head and he glared through his robes at the Dark Mark hidden beneath. The red and sore Dark Mark that he'd been attempting to scratch off ever since the War had ended. It only happened when he got really drunk, but he got really drunk very often these days.
Strangely enough, it hadn't been his Death Eater past that had killed his marriage. According to his ex-wife, it had been his 'coldness', his 'distance' and his 'unwillingness to cooperate'. In other words, she'd thought he didn't love her, when that couldn't be further from the truth. With a sip of his drink, he looked out of his kitchen window onto the street. It was nearly empty; those leaving work were already home, and the party people were all at their destinations. The only people on the street now were stragglers, and one of those included Rose.
She was stood against the lamppost across from his house, one of those Muggle devices in her hands that she'd said Granger had made her get in order to 'keep in touch more effectively'. "Tiny people with tiny lives," he said once more, almost whispering it.
Perhaps if he said it enough times he could even convince himself.