Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for:  elfflame
From: A Witty Watcher: uniquepov

Title: Of Daydream Draughts and Standing Stones
Characters/Pairings: Draco/George gen * (unrequited! Draco/Severus) * (highlight to view all pairings)
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Kinks: Dirty Talk, Rimming, Slow lovemaking. Themes: Crying, True Love, Living with loss, Healing.
Other Warnings/Content: Angst. EWE.
Word Count: ~4,480
Summary/Description: Draco is lost in grieving the past. George decides to show him the future.
Author's Notes: To my giftee: Your prompt spoke to me from the moment I read it. I hope you enjoy this little fic. Thank you to S, K, and C for the handholding and cheerleading, and to K, K, and C for the beta work. All remaining mistakes are entirely my own. An extra special thanks to the mods for their understanding when real life reared its ugly head and I needed some extra time.


 
**

“That’s it.” Severus’ voice was warm caramel and honey and musk. “That’s my beautiful boy.”

Draco groaned, writhing beneath the other man as Severus drizzled chocolate over his nipples. Obsidian eyes glittering, Severus dipped his head to lave across Draco’s chest, following the dark, sweet trail. When the last drop had been scraped from his flesh by Severus’ eager tongue, the older man pulled back, drizzling more chocolate down Draco’s stomach, lower than Draco had dared to hope.

“Oh, please…” Draco whimpered, pulling at the silk ties around his wrists.

“Stay still,” Severus whispered huskily. “Stay still, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Draco gave another shuddering groan as he felt Severus’ lips inching down his torso. When he felt chocolate drizzling over his cock, he jerked roughly against the ties binding him. “Severus!”

The other man simply smirked up at him, before his tongue darted out to lick a dribble of chocolate from Draco’s shaft. Draco let his head drop back against the bed with a moan, and he felt the wet heat of Severus’ mouth encase him. He was painfully close, and it was the work of a few quick moments before he was spilling into Severus’ mouth, and his world went black.

When Draco regained his senses, lifting his head to blink around his darkened bedroom, he felt his heart sink. There were no ties, no scent of chocolate… no Severus. He rolled over in his empty bed, burrowing under the duvet and fisting his hands in his pillow.

“I miss you,” Draco whispered to the darkness. “So very, very much...”

Familiar tears prickling beneath his eyelids, Draco pulled the duvet over his head and tried to sleep away his grief.

**

George Weasley was looking down at the counter when three phials of Daring Daydream Draught were placed unceremoniously in his line of vision. “Identification, please,” he began in a bored tone. “That product is from our Wicked Wishes collection and you must be at least-” He broke off and stared at the blond haired wizard before him. “Malfoy?”

Draco inclined his head. “I assure you, Weasley, I am well past my age of majority.”

George flushed and gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that. It’s a Hogwarts weekend, yeah? Lots of underage students trying to sneak the naughties.”

Draco smirked. “I teach them every day. I am well acquainted with their misguided attempts at subterfuge.”

George’s grin grew wider. “Kids today, eh?”

Draco gave a short bark of laughter. “Indeed.” He looked around behind the counter. “Where’s Ron?”

“He was going bonkers stuck here in Hogsmeade when Hermione’s so busy with her internship at St. Mungo’s,” George explained easily as he totalled up Draco’s purchase. “So I agreed to let him manage the Diagon shop, and I’ll be out here for a while.”

“Ahh.” Draco nodded in understanding. He handed George a handful of Sickles. “Well. I suppose I shall see you next week, then.”

George nodded as he handed over Draco’s change and a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes bag. “Ta ra, then!” he said cheerily.

Draco hesitated, then gave a stiff nod and turned to stalk out of the shop.

**

Draco slipped quietly out of the castle and through the grounds to the memorial stones, which stood in tribute to those who had lost their lives during that final battle. The stones always disquieted him; standing in silent recrimination that heroes had fallen while cowards – while cowards like him – had survived. They called to him, demanded an accounting of his life which he was not prepared to give.

He stumbled to a halt in front of one of the stones, his fingertips tracing the familiar name. It was a penance he’d performed so often that the edges of the engraving – sharp and crisp on the other memorial stones – was worn and rounded.

Severus Snape

There amongst the standing stones, alone in the darkness, Draco bowed his head and wept for all that had been lost, and for what might have been.

**

George frowned to himself as he spotted a familiar blond wizard threading his way through the crowds of shoppers. He kept his head down, avoiding the garish Christmas displays of Ten-Ton-Tongue Toffee and Hiccoughing Humbugs and heading directly for the Wicked Wishes section and the shelf of Daydream Draughts.

Draco placed more than a dozen phials carefully in a basket and made his way towards the counter, ignoring the throng of cheerfully harried holiday shoppers.

“Happy Christmas, Malfoy,” George exclaimed cheerfully. “Can I interest you in some Amistlemour? Spelled to help you discover your true love!”

Draco scowled. “What makes you think I need your help to find true love, Weasley?”

George indicated Draco’s purchases with a wave of his hand. “Your shopping habits. That, and the fact that you’re in Hogsmeade every weekend alone.” He smiled, to take the sting from his words, but Draco still looked thunderous.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Draco snarled, smacking a handful of Galleons onto the counter. “Don’t presume to tell me about my habits. Shopping or otherwise.” Without waiting for his change, Draco spun on his heel and stalked out of the shop.

**

On Christmas Eve, George shut up the shop carefully, setting the wards, and turning up the collar of his robes. He was expected at the Burrow, where the family celebrations would already be underway, but first, he had one final stop to make.

George made his way to Hogwarts, skirting the castle perimeter as he stepped carefully through the snow and ice. He paused for a long moment outside one wing of the castle, gazing up at the parapet where he and Fred had waited for the battle to begin. He looked down at the ground where Fred had breathed his last, blinking hard. Taking a deep breath, he made his way past the castle and down the rolling grounds towards the Black Lake, and The Memorial.

George always thought of it in capital letters; The Memorial. A series of large standing stones, polished to a mirror finish, engraved with the names of the fallen. He stood for a moment before the final stone, staring at his reflection, imagining it was Fred looking back at him.

“Miss you, Fred,” he whispered.

It wasn’t Fred, though. It was only his name; a faint echo of his brief presence. The image blurred, and George turned away from the broken illusion with a sob.

He moved through the rest of the stones, paying a solemn tribute to all of the lives lost, until another solitary figure, standing before one the stones, brought him up short. As he studied the figure, it shifted, and he could suddenly see Draco Malfoy’s distinctive white-blond hair gleaming in the starlight.

Draco had his bared palm flat against one of the stones, seemingly heedless of the bitter cold and biting wind. His head was bowed, and there was a faint shimmer to the snow at his feet, as though falling tears had turned to ice.

“I miss you.” Draco’s words froze George in his tracks. “Severus… how could you leave me alone like this?”

The sounds of deep, heart-wrenching sobs reached his ear, and George retreated the way he’d approached, leaving the other man to grieve in peace.

**

Draco rolled his hips lazily, revelling in the feel of Severus filling him… of Severus’ body pressed tightly to his own… Severus’ fingers digging possessively into his hips… tangling in his hair… stroking him… claiming his lips… claiming him.

He melted into Severus, nuzzling his neck, trailing kisses along Severus’ jaw as he rocked himself on Severus’ cock.

“Feel what you do to me,” Severus growled, thrusting upwards slowly, pulling at Draco’s hips, changing his angle so that he could slide against Draco’s prostate with every thrust. “Feel how hard you make me, beautiful boy…”

Severus’ grasp was firm on his cock, sliding and stroking and twisting, and Draco pushed back onto Severus with a hoarse cry as he came, spilling between them. Severus thrust up into him erratically for a moment before following him over, clutching Draco to him, murmuring his name softly into his hair.

**

The first weekend back after New Year’s, George was watching for one customer in particular. When he spotted his quarry, he moved to corner him at the back of the shop.

“Draco,” he greeted quietly.

Draco spun around, snatching his hand away from the phials of Daydream Draughts almost guiltily.

“Weasley,” he replied, recovering his composure.

George rolled his eyes at Draco’s refusal to use his given name. “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”

“Talk to me? About what?”

“About you.”

Draco’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe. “What could you possibly have to tell me about myself?”

George gestured to the stockroom door. “Let’s just step off the floor, yeah? Get a little privacy.”

Draco looked at him for a long moment before nodding, following the redhead into the back room of the shop. Once there, he leaned against the shelving and folded his arms over his chest.

“Alright, then. Talk.”

“I just wanted to say that if you ever needed someone to talk to,” George began hesitantly. “I mean, if you ever need anything…”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “Bit late in the season for a burst of charitable outreach, isn’t it?”

George huffed in exasperation. “Draco, I saw you Christmas Eve. At Hogwarts. Out at The Memorial.”

Draco stilled, his expression smoothing into a blank mask. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not the only one who lost someone. There are other people who understand.”

“You don’t understand anything,” Draco snapped, drawing himself up.

“I know you’ve been using far too much of our Daydream Draughts,” George countered.

“I’ve read the warnings, and the ingredients list. There’s nothing harmful or addictive in them.”

“No, but it’s still not healthy to hide in dreams. You need to focus on living, and healing, Draco,” George said quietly.

“Don’t,” Draco whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

“Draco-” George tried again, but Draco pushed past him and all but ran from the shop.

**

Draco did not appear in the shop the following weekend, nor the two weekends after that, and George allowed himself to feel a small measure of victory. Though his words hadn’t been welcomed, perhaps they had had the intended effect, after all.

Late that evening, reviewing the day’s receipts and the orders that had been fulfilled through the Floo, his heart sank.

Six phials, Daydream Draught.

deliver to

Professor D. Malfoy
Hogwarts School

**

George made another pilgrimage to The Memorial on Candlemas, placing a small jar with a charmed flame flickering merrily in front of the stone with Fred’s name on it.

He cast a Warming Charm on himself and sat in front of the stone.

“Hiya, Fred,” George began quietly. “There’s a lot been happening lately…” George recited the family news, tales of their parents and siblings and the next generation. “Wish you could see little Victoire. She’s bloody perfect, a miniature Fleur; she’s got Dad wrapped right ‘round…”

George fell silent. Growing up, he had never imagined a world without Fred. With a habit born of long practice, George stilled his swirling, tumultuous thoughts and got to his feet with a sigh, brushing the tears from his eyes. As he did, he caught sight of Draco, standing with his head bowed before one of the other stones, some distance away.

George hesitated for the span of several heartbeats, and made his decision. Moving quietly, he came to stand beside Draco in front of the stone that bore the name Severus Snape.

“Not quite right, is it?” he murmured.

Draco, startled out of his reverie, looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Pardon?”

“All of them,” George indicated the stones with a wave of his hand. “And us still here, going on like nothing’s changed. Except everything’s changed, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Draco replied as he turned back to the stones. “Everything’s changed.”

George Conjured another small jar with a dancing flame and set it before the stone with Snape’s name on it.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered, and George inclined his head in answer.

The silence stretched between them as they stood, side by side, amidst the stones. Finally, Draco straightened his shoulders.

“I must get back.” Draco’s tone was brusque as he turned back towards the castle.

“What were you to each other?” George asked, not unkindly.

The silence lasted so long that George would have thought Draco hadn’t heard the question, except that the other man had halted in his tracks.

“Nothing.” Draco said, without turning around. His voice was full of pain and longing; George’s heart ached for him.

“Draco-” George tried, reaching out a hand to the other man. But Draco had fled.

**

As George went about his daily routine, he would suddenly remember the heartbreak in Draco’s voice, his red-rimmed eyes, the droop of his shoulders as he trudged back towards the castle. When Draco’s next order for Daydream Draughts appeared, George made a decision. Perhaps it wasn’t the right decision; perhaps it wasn’t even the right thing to do. But George had seen enough loss, and decided that it was up to him to ensure that Draco Malfoy rejoined the ranks of the living, rather than waste away, pining for the past.

George had been giving it some thought; Draco had had the same look in his eyes that George had seen himself, in the mirror, following Fred’s death, when he’d felt as though he’d lost everything, and couldn’t imaging continuing on alone. It had taken months for the look to fade from his eyes; even longer for the feeling to ease its iron grip on his heart.

George decided that what Draco needed was to find something to look forward to, something to keep him drawn to the future. Something to awaken forgotten dreams, perhaps, or hidden desires; something to call love into Draco’s life and show him that there was still something in this world worth waking up for.

Inspiration gleamed in his eyes, and he headed for his lab with a grin.

**

“Oh, Merlin,” Draco panted. “Just like that.”

His arse was in the air, shoulders pressed to the mattress with his hands grasping his ankles. Severus knelt behind him, parting the cheeks for his arse, teasing his tongue along the crease and dipping into his clenching opening.

Draco felt the tongue teasing along the edge of his anus, and he pushed backwards with a whimper.

Severus chuckled. “Eager little thing.”

“Gods, Severus, please… don’t tease,” Draco pleaded breathlessly.

“Why not? You’re delectable like this.” Severus leaned in and pressed a kiss to the base of Draco’s spine. “Needy and squirming… exquisite.”

Draco pushed backwards, wriggling his arse in invitation. “Please… Severus, please…”

A slicked finger pushed inside him, quickly followed by another.

Draco groaned, rocking his hips. “Yes… oh, fuck yes…” He closed his eyes as he brought his arms forward to push himself up onto his elbows, hands fisting in the duvet. A pair of lips claimed his own, which parted in invitation.

“That’s it…” Severus voice sounded from behind him, and Draco’s eyes flew open as he jerked backwards from the kiss to stare into the guileless blue eyes of George Weasley.

Draco awoke in a cold sweat. He scrambled up against the headboard, staring around him wildly. No one was there.

No Severus.

No blue-eyed Weasley.

Draco rolled himself in the duvet and fell into a fitful slumber.

**

On Ostara, Draco brought a wreath of woven vines and budding branches to lay before Severus’ stone. He sat for a long time, staring thoughtfully at his reflection in the polished stone, until a faint voice reached his ears from the other side of the memorial.

“…don’t quite know what to do without you...”

Draco craned his neck to peer around the stones surrounding him and caught sight of George Weasley’s ginger hair. He ducked back behind the cover of the granite stones and cocked a listening ear.

“…there are still days that I miss you so much it hurts, Fred. I’ll go running to find you to tell you something, only to remember that … that you’re not there. That you’re never going to be there again, looking up with a grin as I come barrelling in the door…”

Draco closed his eyes against the well of tears that the other man’s words invoked.

“Nothing’s any good without you, Fred,” George sobbed.

Draco felt George’s words pierce the protective bubble of solitude he’d built around himself. Stifling a quiet sob, Draco crept away, leaving George to his own remembrance.

**

Draco settled onto his knees and smirked up at the man standing before him. His fingers made quick work of the fastenings of Severus’ trousers, and he slipped his hands inside to pull Severus’ straining cock free. Draco locked eyes with Severus and without breaking that contact, he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Severus’ cock. He felt Severus’ hands tangle in his hair and he hummed softly as he swallowed Severus’ cock down, burying his nose in the nest of ebony curls at the base and inhaling Severus’ scent. Draco rested his palms on Severus’ thighs, hollowing his cheeks as he moved his head over Severus’ cock.

Severus’ head dropped backwards, breaking the connection, and Draco allowed his eyes to fall closed as he concentrated on the feel of Severus’ cock. He moved in a quick, steady rhythm, enjoying the soft sounds of pleasure and endearments falling from Severus’ lips, the way Severus’ hips were thrusting ever so slightly, the way his hands tightened in Draco’s hair.

Those hands were tugging now, urging his head back, and with a strangled “Draco!” falling from his lips, Severus came.

Severus sagged backwards against the bed, and Draco released his quiescent cock with a last soft kiss, turning to trail kisses along his inner thigh. He felt hands in his hair again and he hummed contentedly, his eyes falling closed again as the hands urged him up, pressing him against the side of the bed and trailing along his sides.

When he felt an eager mouth on his aching cock, he opened his eyes to look down into those fathomless obsidian depths and gasped in shock at the bright blue gazing up at him. Draco pushed at George’s shoulders, but the redhead only hummed and took him deeper. Draco felt George swallowing around him, felt himself brush against the back of George’s throat, and lost himself to the sensations with a hoarse cry.

**

Draco stormed into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, snapping his head around. Spotting George’s distinctive red hair, Draco stalked towards him with barely contained fury veritably crackling around him.

“Weasley,” he growled. “Back room. Now.”

George’s eyes widened and he gestured towards the stockroom. Draco slammed into the back room, folding his arms over his chest as he spun around to glare at George.

George held up his hands in a gestured of surrender. “Easy, Draco,” he began, but the other man cut him off sharply.

“Don’t,” Draco snapped. “Just tell me what the bloody hell you thought you were about?”

“I was stocking the shelves? Hogwarts weekend, you-” George’s easy grin faded as Draco drew his wand and pointed it squarely at his chest.

“I’m sorry, are you under the impression that this is somehow amusing? One of your legendary practical jokes?”

George’s shoulders slumped. “Of course not,” he murmured. “I was trying to help.”

“Help? How, precisely, were you meant to be helping? By indulging your sick, voyeuristic fantasies?” Draco’s wand was shaking in his anger.

George’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I will not be made a fool of!” Draco bellowed. Sparks shot from his wand, and George dove for cover, going for his own wand as he rolled.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” George shouted.

“Did you think you could humiliate me and get away with it?” Draco shouted, slinging hexes wildly in George’s direction. “I may have nothing left, but I still have some measure of dignity!”

“Malfoy!” George shouted. He cast a Shield Charm and stepped out from behind the shelves, his wand pointed at the ground. “Have you gone completely mental?”

“Tell me why you did it!” Draco kept his wand pointed at George, but the hexes, at least, stopped.

“Why I did what, exactly?”

“Tampered with the Daydream Draughts I ordered.” Draco’s shoulders slumped and he sank down onto a nearby box. “How could you make fun of my grief that way?”

George took a tentative step forward. “Draco, I would never… I was trying to help you. Trying to show you that there are still good things in the world. To show you that love is still possible.”

“By inserting yourself into my thoughts?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were there. In my daydreams. Why?”

“Draco,” George began, lowering himself to kneel beside his seated form. “The altered Draughts were supposed to show you glimpses of your future… things that would help you realise that there are good things still to look forward to. That’s all.”

Draco lifted his head. “What?”

“What did you see?”

Draco stared into George’s blue eyes – so like his daydreams – in disbelief. “You really didn’t know what would happen?”

George shook his head, keeping his eyes locked with Draco’s. “Really didn’t.” After a long moment, he grinned sheepishly. “Still don’t, actually… Did you really daydream about me?”

Draco’s cheeks flushed red as he jumped to his feet. “I have to go.”

George clambered to his feet as well. “Draco – you don’t have to keep running away. Let’s talk about it.”

Draco paused with his hand on the door to the stockroom. “You… I can’t.” He pushed through the door and disappeared.

**

George laid his hand on the stone with Fred’s name on it. “What have I done, Fred? I was trying to make things better for him, but I think I made it worse.”

Draco stood silently off to the side, listening to George speak to the memory of his brother.

“Merlin, I miss you. You’d know what to do.”

Draco stepped forward then. “You could start by apologising.”

George spun around at the sound of his voice. “I – I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was just trying to help.”

Draco considered him for a long moment. “You really weren’t trying to insert yourself into them, were you?”

George shook his head. Draco turned to look back at the stone bearing Severus’ name, then tilted his head towards the lake. “Would you like to sit down for a moment?” he asked hesitantly.

At George’s nod, Draco led the way to a stone bench, placed at the edge of a copse of trees near the shore of the lake. “Tell me again what the altered potions were supposed to do?”

George took a deep breath. “I recognised the despair in your eyes. The draughts were supposed to show you that your life still held good things for the future. That you could find love, and happiness.”

“Love and happiness,” Draco repeated slowly, staring out over the lake.

George nodded. “From the time we were born, I don’t think I spent more than a few hours apart from Fred our entire lives. Then I had to face the prospect of a world without him.”

“How did you?”

“One day at a time,” George admitted. “One minute at a time, sometimes. Everything reminded me of Fred. Of what I’d lost. Just looking in the mirror, even; and I knew every time someone looked at me, they were reminded of Fred. It was months before Mum could look at me without crying…”

Draco was silent, but he slid his hand closer to George’s on the bench, brushing their fingertips together.

George glanced down at their hands, barely touching, and gave Draco a small, sad smile.

“It’s still hard, sometimes,” George admitted. “But it’s getting better.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I saw you here, at Ostara.”

George flushed. “This time of year is the hardest. Our birthday is April first, and we always did something special together, just the two of us, to celebrate. He was my best friend,” George’s voice cracked, and he fell silent for a long moment. “I don’t know what Snape and you were,” George finally whispered. “But he wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.”

Draco tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. After a moment, he managed, “We weren’t anything.”

George moved his hand atop Draco’s and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

Draco dropped his gaze, and George could see the shimmer of tears on his cheeks. “He watched over me. Protected me, even when… when the Dark Lord came to live at the Manor.” He took a slow, deep breath. “I fell in love with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it whilst I was still a student. Even though the Dark Lord would most certainly have allowed it, even been amused by it. He said it was wrong when he held such a position of power of me, but that if I was still interested once I had left Hogwarts, that he’d be willing to discuss it then.” Draco raised his eyes back up to stare into the middle distance. “Only – the battle – and he died. He died, alone, while I hid in the castle.” Draco’s tears were flowing freely now, and George scooted closer to wrap his arms around the other wizard.

“Shhh,” George soothed, running a hand over Draco’s back. “If you’d been with him, Voldemort certainly would have killed you, as well, Draco.”

“I know,” Draco sobbed. “I don’t care. I’d rather that, than this. Everyone who died… any one of them deserved to live more than I do. I was a coward.”

“You were a scared, seventeen-year-old kid,” George corrected softly. “None of them deserved to die. But life… well, it doesn’t always make sense. And it certainly isn’t always fair. It just… it is what it is, and you have to make the best of it.”

“I never thought I would lose him,” Draco sobbed. “Not before we even had a chance.”

“I know,” George whispered. “None of us really did.”

Draco swiped at his eyes impatiently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” George murmured. “It’s alright.”

Draco clung to George for a moment longer, then pulled back and straightened up, smoothing his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“There is still one thing I’d like to know,” George began, with a small smile. At Draco’s enquiring look, he continued, “Just what was I doing in these daydreams of yours?”

Draco blushed deeply. “Why don’t we just… leave that for the future to decide?”

George reached out and took Draco’s hand, twining their fingers together. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

**