Little Memories

Draco sat in his room later that night, far too much on his mind for him to find rest. He hadn’t even bothered removing his shoes or jacket, despite the room being slightly stuffy from the fire that the house elves had made in the tall fireplace in his room. He didn’t know if they expected him to come back to his room with Charlotte or if they were afraid the Manor would be too cold at night for him. He merely sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the bundle of letters that sat on his desk, the ones he had written within the weeks that Charlotte had been gone to Azkaban. He contemplated hiding them away so he wouldn’t have to look at them. He thought about placing them in a long forgotten corner of the attic, never to be seen again. He even thought about placing them in her room while she was sleeping with hopes that she would eventually find them.

He let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands over his face. He thought that once Charlotte came back, things would return to as normal as they possibly could. Now, it just seemed things had gotten worse. He knew things couldn’t have been back to what they were with the Dark Lord staying at his house, but he had never expected for his words and actions to become so misconstrued or for Charlotte to become angry with him. He expected her to come back changed or at least a little different than she was before, because he knew the toll Azkaban could take on one’s mind and body. He never expected her to cut her hair, or go mute, or be able to kill a dementor. All of those seemed so unlike the Charlotte he had known a year ago. However, he knew that Charlotte was wiser than she let on, and knew that there must be good reasons for those things. Then it all clicked.

Draco was in the wrong for saying what he did, he knew that much, but he also knew that Charlotte would have forgiven him for it. There must have been a reason for her pushing Draco away. If she truly wanted nothing to do with him, she wouldn’t have gone to the dinner, wearing the bracelet he had given her, no less. She must have been afraid of what would happen to them if they got separated again. It seemed unlikely that the two of them would go to Azkaban, since it was no longer under the control of the Ministry, but if one of them died, what would the other do? She was trying to protect him if that should happen, he just knew it.

He jumped when he heard a faint knocking on his door then someone hissing a curse. It sounded like a girl, but with the sound of the firewood crackling in his room, he could have been mistaken. He walked over to the door and slowly pulled it open, surprised to see Charlotte standing on the other side of the room. She wore a short pair of black sleep shorts that could have passed for underwear, a black blazer that looked like it could have belonged to him at one time with nothing but a baggy, very sheer, white tank top underneath it. Her hair was mussed and slightly frizzy and her eyes couldn’t focus on one thing for an extended period of time. Then he saw the two bottles of firewhiskey in her hands and noticed that one of them was half-empty.

“Are you going to invite me in or just stare at me like a dopey mountain troll?” She asked, her words slurring together and her voice raspier than ever.

“You’re drunk and tired,” Draco spoke, not knowing what would happened if she stepped into his room. “You need rest.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, fucker,” she hiccupped before hissing the last expletive, rounding Draco and walking into his room. Draco let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, knowing that nothing good could come from a highly drunk, highly volatile, and partially naked Charlotte in his room. He closed and locked the door behind him, lest his Auntie Bella poke her head into the room and blab about it to the whole house. Charlotte sat down on his bed, crossing her legs Indian-style, despite how inappropriate it was with her barely-there attire. She placed the full bottle of firewhiskey on the bed, placing the half-empty one on her leg.

Draco watched her as her eyes swung around his darkened room, the only bit of light being a sharp orange glow from the fireplace. She swayed to the sides a bit and looked a bit lethargic and haggard, but, otherwise, he would have never guess she was drunk by the way she appeared. He could still hear her lungs struggling to breath to their full capacity; the air rasping in and out. The sound made Draco a little uncomfortable. She barely had proper time to get well and here she was, forced to put on a strong, stony face merely because she was in his house, the house where the Dark Lord was staying. He sat down in the chair he kept at his desk, turning it around to face her. She held out the full bottle to him suddenly, the contents within it sloshing about with a musical twinkle.

Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed the bottle, knowing he was in no position to get drunk. His parents, no doubt, would find out about it and there was no way that he could possibly let his guard down with the Dark Lord just down the hallway. Draco stared down at the swirling orange, yellow, and reds of the liquid he held, remember just how good it felt to become pleasantly numb for a few hours. The bottle felt warm and tempting against his fingertips, yearning to be opened and consumed. He set it to the side for the moment, staring carefully at Charlotte.

“Why are you in here?” He asked her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I got bored,” she said simply, turning her bright blue eyes to his for a moment before she tilted the bottle back and took a swig of it.

“And drunk,” he added with a nod. Charlotte winced as she swallowed her drink before smacking her lips together and looked over at Draco again. She cut her eyes at him, much like she had all dinner, but the expression had lost its potency in her drunken stupor.

“Yep,” she said bluntly, popping the ‘p’, “and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it.” Draco remained silent, watching as she stared back at him with a faraway expression. She hiccupped, her frail looking body jumping with the strength of it, before she nodded toward the bottle of firewhiskey on the table. “I have brought you a peace offering, dear sir,” she slurred before mock-saluting him with a wink.

“I’m not going to get drunk, Charlotte,” he replied in a cool voice. Her mouth curled to the side as she looked at him, swaying slightly without her even knowing it.

“Well…” She said simply, blinking a few times as she paused, “if you won’t drink it, I’ll be more than happy to go back to my room and partake in it.” Draco merely stared at her, knowing that in her condition, it wouldn’t be healthy for her to drink too much. She merely continued to smirk, as if she knew that he was already feeling the pressure to drink since she had offered him the temptation. It only took a split second to decide to buckle in to the pressure. He drew in a deep breath and lifted his hand to the bottle, yet didn’t move it from his desk. “Go on then,” Charlotte cooed, tilting her head to the side as she watched him, “I’m not going to judge you for it.”

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he lifted the bottle from the table and unscrewed the lid. He bit his bottom lip as he glanced down to the bottle before looking back up at Charlotte, who was watching him with an amused, yet groggy expression. He then drew in a breath of air and took a large gulp of the warm, burning beverage. As he swallowed, he sputtered and coughed against the scalding sensation that trickled down his throat and into his stomach. His eyes watered as he barely heard Charlotte’s hoarse giggle from the other side of the room.

Once he had finished coughing, he wiped the corners of his eyes to clear the tears that had formed. He still heard Charlotte giggling softly from his bed and looked over at her with a slight glare. She bit her bottom lip once she realized he was glaring at her, but she still gave him a shit-eating grin. He took another sip, not a gulp this time, to try and soothe the burning sensation that came from drinking firewhiskey. It didn’t help.

About a half hour passed by silently between the two of them as they drank their firewhiskey. Charlotte, naturally, finished her bottle before Draco, so she merely stared at him as he drank his; barely taking his eyes off of the girl that sat, half-clothed, on his bed. It came as no surprise to him that when he placed the empty bottle to the side, Charlotte stood from the bed and, as graceful as a drunk person could be, walked over to him. She kept her eyes glued to his as she straddled his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck. He merely stared back numbly, keep his eyes locked on hers as his fingertips dared to venture underneath her see-through white tank top. Her skin was warm against his fingertips, yet he could feel the ridges of her ribs as his fingertips skirted over her sides.

“There now,” she whispered with a smirk as she ran her bony fingers through his white-blonde hair distractedly, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Draco merely shook his head, words escaping him temporarily. She merely stared down at him through half-lidded eyes, swaying slightly as she scooted forward so that their hips pressed together. Draco let out a low hum as he looked up at her, continuing to let his fingertips wander across her remarkably soft skin. She was looking down into his eyes as she threaded her fingers through his hair, swaying a bit. Draco raked his mind for something to say, since he felt that he should, but couldn’t think of anything.

“I can see your nipples,” was all he managed to get out. Charlotte smirked as she looked down at him before resting her forehead against his tiredly.

“You’ve seen them before,” she replied in a whisper, her warm breath splashing temptingly across Draco’s face. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he pulled them back open to look into her eyes again.

“Yes, but never through a t-shirt,” he said, his eyes darting down to look over her body as his wrists inevitably pushed her tank top up as his fingertips climbed higher to what they were talking about. Charlotte let out an appreciative hum as she gently tugged at his hair. She then leaned down and gently bit down on Draco’s earlobe, causing him to let out a breathy moan.

“Maybe you should just take it off…if it’s offending you,” she whispered in his ear before pulling back to look into his eyes. He looked back up at her before a wide smirk slowly curled his lips.