Draco Lucius Malfoy (d_l_malfoy) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2017-01-01 08:49:00 |
|
|||
Off in a faraway alternate dimension in a mythical city, and Pansy still couldn't get away from lions. It was a right laugh, really, that the piece that has gotten her the attention for her first private commission would be the lions she painted on the mural. And now she was expected to paint another one. Merlin, how she hated lions. Loud, aggressive, self-righteous, Gryffindoric lions. She was almost tempted to make put the lion in her commission in a tutu and have it prance along the beach, but she'd sensed how important the lion was to the man who'd commissioned it. He'd talked about it so reverently, and Pansy wasn't so stupid as to destroy what could be a useful relationship over her own personal bias. She might be a snake, but she was a practical one. She just needed some alcohol to get her through this. She'd just entered the bar when she saw a very unwelcome sight: Draco Malfoy, in a booth right by the door. There was no way she'd be able to get to the bar without passing him, and she certainly wasn't about to let his presence scare her away. So she did the opposite, and slid into the booth across from him. “And here I thought I was rid of you.” *** Despite the fact that Draco had actively chosen to return to this project at Atlantis, he had not done so because of Pansy. Intellectually, he knew she was here, but at the same time, he knew she was still the same person who’d he had to be rid of in order to please his Father. Of course, he’d only done that because he knew that if he hadn’t, he’d have lost everything - money, name, the Manor, contact with his Mother - everything. Additionally, he was certain that this Pansy was still the one who would only want to be with him with those things. Not that he ever asked her, but why else would people want to be with him? The only thing he had here was his brain and a chance to do something other than live in his Father’s shadow. Which is precisely why he was in a bar, drinking. It was better than interacting with people or attempting to work on that ‘chance’ thing he knew he had. Besides, drinking solved everything. “And if you hadn’t sat down, you’d have continued to be ‘rid of me’,” Draco retorted, not surprised that he had run into Pansy so quickly here. He’d rather been hoping to just avoid her. Could he have worse luck?! “So perhaps you could just be on your way and we’ll call it good.” He’d never even looked at her, just continued to focus on the glass of whiskey in front of him - wondering how many he could down to be as numb as possible for the next twenty years or so. *** “Please, my luck isn’t that good,” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. “Obviously, as evidenced you showing up here not once, but twice. Why did you come back?” She’d been glad when she’d found out that he was gone, glad that she wouldn’t have to deal with complicated emotions she’d long packed away. And if she’d felt a little bit of disappointment, or even loss...well. She’d been in love with Draco for a long time. There had to be a certain amount of emotional leakage. And now he was back. Pansy didn’t appreciate having to go through that roller coaster of emotions again, and she was going to make sure he knew it. *** “To fuck with you, of course,” Draco immediately answered, raising the glass of whiskey to her. “Everything is about you Pansy. Everything.” He took and drank down a large portion of the whiskey. It didn’t help his mood to be dealing with the one person he didn’t want to see ever again. Really, he just wanted to sit here and get drunk and not think. His glass was nearly empty. This was the biggest disappointment ever. Time to get another. “Now, could you just fuck off?” Sure, he could work and seduce her, but Draco knew that wouldn’t work since he’d never really have her. She wouldn’t truly love him - she loved his money. And here he had nothing. Except access to alcohol. That he had. And it would make everything better. *** He looked horrible and sounded worse. And...Pansy leaned forward slightly. Was the smell of whiskey masking something else? How awful. Oh, but it did her good to see him in such a wretched state. Draco Malfoy: in an entirely unkempt state and possibly having forgone a shower for the past few days. His clothes certainly looked like he'd slept in them, very unlike his usual particular care to his appearance. Mood brightened by his misery, Pansy smiled brightly. “Poor Draco. Did you lose whatever you had left of your poise and charm on the trip back? Not to worry, maybe one of the Gryffindors will take pity on you and hex you out of your misery.” *** She wasn’t going away. And the glass was empty. The day just keeps on giving. Raising his grey eyes he looked her over carefully. He knew, intellectually, that he looked less than his best. That didn’t seem to stop him from continuing down the path of wanton self-destruction. Draco Malfoy did nothing by halves. “I sold it for the last shot of whiskey,” Draco retorted, frowning at her smile. She was enjoying this. That thought registered in his sloshed brain, but he couldn’t think through things enough to figure out a way to deal with her. Which meant that she could sit here and poke fun of him for the rest of the evening without him so much as garnering the intelligence to fight back. “Besides, the last time I was here, if I remember correctly, you didn’t enjoy me as my charming, seductive self either. You clearly want both, but I’m happy to give you neither.” He made a shooing motion at her. “Especially since I don’t have what you really want anyway.” He hadn’t meant to add the last, but it had slipped out in the looseness caused by alcohol. *** “You don't have anything I want.” The words were snapped out, with much more venom than Pansy had wanted. She was trying to stay aloof and enjoy his misery, but even drink and unkempt, he still made her feel defensive. “Not even that charm you're so proud of.” “And right now? You don't have anything wants. If you're so miserable here, why don't you ask them to send you home again? After all, walking away is what you do best.” *** Ah yes, the shrew. This was the Pansy that Draco hated the most. It always came out when he had done the wrong thing. Or said the wrong thing. Or thought the wrong thing. While he loved her anger turned on other people, esp. Gryffindors, he intensely disliked it turned on him. But then, he’d just gotten proof that he didn’t have anything she wanted. Already depressed, this seemed to make it worse. Could he not just have a break? Probably not. The empty glass in front of him taunted him - making him wish it was full again and would take away all the emotions he couldn’t be bothered to deal with. Thinking of going home made him shudder. Well, he knew he didn’t want that. “I’m not going home,” he said, for the first time in the conversation he sounded sure and sober. “There’s nothing there for me. Nothing.” Yes, he was running from his problems which the intellectual part of him acknowledged, the rest of him was just happy to keep running. “At least I’m good at something, unlike you,” Draco said, sliding out from the booth. He really needed a drink now. “So I’ll walk away, because I’m good at that. And drinking.” He raised the empty glass in toast to her and headed to the bar. *** |