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Friction in the Space Between by gothicpixie101

Format: Novella
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 1,760
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Romance, Angst, AU
Characters: Harry, Hermione, Lucius, Narcissa, Draco, Pansy, Ginny
Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Harry/Ginny

First Published: 02/16/2008
Last Chapter: 02/17/2008
Last Updated: 02/26/2008

Summary:
Beautiful banner by hedwidgeon


FRICTIONcopy.png picture by gothicpixie101



Love and hate me too,
So, these extremes shall neither's office do.
Love me, that I may die the gentler way.
Hate me, so thy love, not me, decay.

At Draco Malfoy's seventh year at Hogwarts, he contends with hatred for his Death Eater father, and love for his Mudblood girlfriend.


Chapter 1: Chapter One - An Ice Cold Gaze
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Friction in the Space Between

Author’s Note: Okay, so this is my first real Dramione, and although I’m an out and out Ron/Hermione shipper, this is the only real fic that came easily enough for me to write.

I’ve been out of writing for a while, so I hope this doesn’t disappoint *smiles*

So, a little background on the story: this takes place in the seventh year, though it is in a very different universe. In this world, Narcissa and Lucius are dead, with Narcissa having being killed by Lucius for betraying the DE’s. Lucius was killed by the Order, making Draco the master of Malfoy Manor (giggles).
On the death list is also Ron (because I couldn’t write a Dramione fic with him being alive) and Dumbledore (which, I think, is the only thing that fits in with canon)

I think that’s all the background you need to know, except for the fact that everyone is still, safely, at Hogwarts.

Please review and tell me what you think!

*** 

icecold.png picture by gothicpixie101

Beautiful chapter image by my very lovely friend Hilary (Wizardora). Loves!

“Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.” - John Webster 

***


Chapter One – An Ice Cold Gaze
 

A figure sat in a low, deep, armchair, absently picking the stuffing from one of the arm rests as he stared at the wall in front of him. He was lost within his own winding trail of thought, images of the war and Voldemort and all of the horrors in between pressing themselves onto the inside of his eyelids each time he blinked.

The death of his mother at the hands of his father.

The magically powered lamp fizzled as it burned at full intensity beside him, the sound almost overwhelming in the near silence of the room. He hated the silence; it made him think about the things he’d rather forget.

The Death Eaters and their tirade against Muggles.

“Draco? Draco, is that you in there?”

Forcing his eyes to focus, Draco Malfoy turned around in his seat to see Pansy Parkinson standing in the doorway, a nervous twitch set to her pointed, pug face as her gaze drifted around the room. A ghost of a smirk played on Draco’s lips as he watched her, relishing the power he had to make her so nervous with his mere presence.

“Of course it is. Who did you think it would be?”

Draco’s inert hostility forced Pansy to talk a step back, her eyes flying wide as she searched his face for some sign of warmth. But she knew she’d be deluding herself if she hoped for any comfort there.

“Oh. I just… erm… thought it may have been Sicily doing some extra house-work.”

Sicily, the newest house-elf to be accepted into the Malfoy family, had been passed down to Draco once his parents had been killed and, as Draco had no brothers or sisters, served to cater to his demands only. And she didn’t seem to care for Pansy’s affections towards her master in the slightest.

“Well, do I look like a House-Elf, woman?”

Draco, at this time, was in a particularly short mood, and wasn’t at all prepared for the overly enthusiastic ministrations of his current paramour. She tended to grate on his nerves, as if the sound of nails across a chalkboard was constantly being projected into his living room.

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

Pansy padded over to where Draco was sitting, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she knelt down in front of him. His gaze felt like ice, white and unyielding, as it bored into her, seeing straight through her and into the wall behind. It was how he always looked at her - not like she didn’t exist, but like she was part of the furniture.

“But I’m sure I know how to do things that House Elves certainly don’t…” Pansy whispered, licking her lips as she let her head fall back slightly on top of her neck. In the low light of the living room, the scars across her left cheek were thrown into sharp relief, a constant and brutal reminder of the battles that they’d already had to face.

“…things that have proved to be very effective in the past.”

Her tone becoming slightly hoarse, Pansy let her hand push up from where it rested on Draco’s knee, her fingers caressing the inside of his thigh through the denim of his jeans. Not seeming to immediately notice what she was doing, it was a few moments before he batted her hand away, mild annoyance registering on his features as he pushed her away and stood up.

“You never used to push me away like this, Draco!” Pansy pouted, taking his silence and rejection as a dismissal of her abilities.

“As I recall, you were always very eager to participate in a little extra physical activity.”

“Well…” Draco started, trying to keep the grimace from his voice. “I guess I’m not in the mood for any physical activity tonight.”

Her pout became even more pronounced, though this time she seemed truly hurt.

“Well, I’m sure if your Mudblood were here…” her face contorted at the mention of the word Mudblood, and the associations that came with it, though she seemed a little hesitant to continue, seeing the rigid set to Draco’s shoulders as he leaned away from her.

“… You’d have no problem with engaging in physical activity.”

Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other, barely acknowledging that he’d heard Pansy speak in the silence of the room. The only reaction, she saw, was how his knuckles were flexed as he held onto the mantle piece, gripping it tighter than he had before. She took another step backwards in fear of his reaction.

“Let me reiterate, Parkinson.” He placed extra emphasis on her surname, turning round slowly on the spot as he let his hands drop from their position.

“I would quite happily shag anyone, anywhere, from now until the end of eternity, as long as I never have to suffer through your… touching… ever again.”

For less than a second, the words hung between them, like fire burning though a block of impenetrable ice, until Pansy took a full step back into the room, her arms shaking as they hung by her sides, although her eyes indicated that she’d gained a little of her strength.

“You know, you’re going to end up pushing everyone away, Malfoy. Even me, who comes running every time you call just so I can delude myself that you ever loved me…”

Her voice matched the steel in his, though she didn’t seem to be able to meet his eyes. Draco was staring right at her, his face a mask of unwavering stoicism as, for once, he listened to what she had to say.

“… And, you know I just hope that she does the same to you as you’re doing to me now. Then maybe you’ll learn to appreciate people while you’ve got them.”

With a dramatic intake of breath, Pansy then turned back around and into the hallway, slamming the door loudly, and obviously, as she went.

Then Draco was alone again, although the sound of silence echoing around the manor was something he had become accustomed to in the past few months.

Narcissa Malfoy had been murdered by Draco’s father, the night Dumbledore had been killed by Voldemort. She had tried to protect her son being inducted into the plan to infiltrate the school and kill its headmaster, and had paid for this simple act of motherly love with her own life.

The sight of his mother crumpling, lifeless, to the floor at his own feet was the one image that would not remove itself from behind his eyelids.

Lucius Malfoy, at the time, had no idea that his son was working closely with the Order. Driven by determination and a need to avenge the death of his mother, Draco had been compelled to provide the Order of the Phoenix with all he information that he had come by regarding his Dad, telling the little he knew about his whereabouts and his meetings with the Dark Lord.

He had sacrificed that ounce of loyalty he had retained for his family to bring Lucius Malfoy to justice. He just didn’t think that they would kill him.

A light tugging on the leg of his jeans tore him out from his reverie. At his feet, Sicily, his parents’ newest House-Elf, was staring up at him with unnaturally bug-black eyes, the large folds of her ears quaking as she lightly bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Master Draco, sir!” she was a little out of breath, and had to stop talking to grab her side. “Master Draco, Sicily has found what you’ve been looking for!”

For the first time that day, even through his encounter with Pansy, Draco Malfoy’s face cracked, the mask of white changing to truly showing a natural burst of emotion. He looked happy, or as close to it as he would allow himself to be.

“You’ve found a cure for her?”

Draco knelt down, forcing to make eye contact with the tiny creature who looked at him, now, so earnestly. She had taught him, at least, to treat such Elves with respect.

“Yes Master. We’ve finally found a cure for Mistress Hermione!”

This time, without speaking, Draco stood up and gently shifted Sicily to the side, grabbing a hand of Floo powder from the vase by the mantle piece and throwing it into the burnt-out fire. There, emerald flames shot high into the air, casting an eerie, green glow over the moulded, antique furniture.

“Does Master have to leave so soon?”

Draco smiled, wearily, as he pulled a travelling cloak from where it rested atop a nearby counter. He had to remind himself that House-Elves became lonely too, and Sicily, unlike her obvious disdain for Pansy, held a soft spot for Hermione too.

“I’m sorry.” He said, curtly, before stepping into the flames. “But if we’re to cure her then she needs to receive it as soon as possible. I presume you’ve already given it to Harry?”

Sicily nodded, wringing the skirt of her dress in her hands as she did so.

“Then it’s settled”

As he stood in the flames, Draco took a breath before speaking, loudly and clearly, into the room before him.

“Hogwarts.”

***

A/N: Okay. That’s it. Yay! The end of my first official chapter of my first official Dramione fan fic. I hope you liked it.

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