Little Memories

Draco buried his face in the crook of Charlotte’s neck as the both tried catching their breath. Their sweat-slick, heavily intoxicated bodies were pressed against each other, Draco’s partially laying on top of Charlotte’s. Her fingertips were still gripping his back and his hands were resting on her waist. If they didn’t feel weary from the booze before, they certainly were tired now and it would only be a few moments before they both succumbed to sleep.

Draco cursed the house elves that had built the fire in the fireplace, because he felt unreasonably hot. He then realized that it must have been because of the firewhiskey, coupled with what he had just done with Charlotte. She merely had her head rested back on the fluffy, goose down pillow and her eyes closed as her chest rose and fell quickly with the effort of trying to catch her breath. The room remained completely still, spare the two teenagers tangled with each other and the flames in the fireplace.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Charlotte whispered, causing Draco to lift his head lazily to get a look at her face. She still had her eyes closed, but her brow was wrinkled with concern.

“The prettiest I’ve ever seen,” he replied, his eye lids suddenly feeling very heavy. He knew that sleep would soon be upon him and he hoped that Charlotte would sleep as well.

“So…I don’t look like a boy?” She asked in the same, tired, yet slightly frantic and breathless voice.

“Of course not,” Draco murmured as he rested his head back in the crook of her neck, tendering kissing the damp skin there. “You’re a really bad liar, did you know that?” He asked her, brushing his lips against her skin as he did.

“Why would you say that?” Charlotte breathed, her eyes now open and looking down at Draco carefully.

“Because you love me and you know that I would die for you,” he paused, nearly drifting off to sleep, but keeping himself from it, if only for a few moments. “So…that makes you a terrible liar.” Charlotte frowned dramatically as Draco drifted off to sleep and she was thankful, because that meant he wouldn’t see the teardrops that dripped down her face before she eventually succumbed to sleep as well.

The next morning, as the sun began to peek through the two, large windows in Draco’s room, the two, youngest Death Eaters still slept, naked and tangled together. The fire had died to mere smoldering embers and the room had cooled off substantially. Clothes had been precariously tossed about the room; Draco’s tie was draped over a lamp, Charlotte’s shorts were bunched up on the mantle. An empty, open bottle lay on its side just below the foot of the bed. The other lay on Draco’s desk, the cap placed back on, yet not screwed on tight.

Draco suddenly breathed in deeply, frowning dramatically, yet groggily at the pounding headache he had. He kept his eyes closed for the moment, fearing the full force of the headache when he opened his eyes. Eventually, he pulled them open, wincing against the pain that thumped against his forehead and temples. He was then suddenly aware of warmth beside him and someone’s soft skin pressed against his arm. Slowly and fearfully, he glanced down to see Charlotte, sleeping soundly beside him with her hands folded beneath her head.

His heart plummeted straight to his stomach and his veins turned to pure ice. Draco certainly remembered the girl stumbling into his room and offering him firewhiskey as a “peace offering”. He remembered getting probably halfway into the bottle, then his memories began to get hazy. He thought he remembered Charlotte’s lips against his and her fingers in his hair. He didn’t quiet remember if she initiated it, or if he did.

Charlotte suddenly drew in a deep breath of air and slowly turned over on her other side, letting Draco get a nice view of the scar down the middle of her chest as she did. He merely lay there, frozen to the spot for fear of what would happen once she woke up. His eyes then noticed just how frail and thin she was. With every breath of air she took in, he could see the ridges of her ribs pushing out from inside her pale, thin skin, almost as if they were about to burst out from the skin. He could count every vertebrae down her back and he could see purple bruises forming on her sides. As much as he hoped he hadn’t been the cause of them, he knew that he was. She was weak and so was her body, so bruises formed faster and easier than they normally would.

A raspy, yet quiet groan escaped Charlotte and Draco knew that she had woken up. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath and preparing himself for whatever would happen. She stayed still for a few moments and Draco thought that perhaps she had gone back to sleep.

“Why the fuck am I in your room, Draco?” Asked Charlotte in a growl of a voice. Draco didn’t reply, he merely stared, wide-eyed at her back. Quickly, she turned over and looked at him, clutching the sheets up around her neck. Her eyes, as fatigued and bloodshot as they were, were set harshly on his and for a moment, Draco feared what she would do.

“Better yet…why am I naked? Care to explain that to me?” She asked in a voice that made Draco want to vanish into thin air and never return. Charlotte merely stared at him for a moment before letting out a sharp, agitated sigh.

“You came into my room. You…were drunk,” Draco muttered and Charlotte raised a brow, her expression hardening even more.

“So, that makes it okay to have sex with me?” She asked, keeping back the overwhelming feeling of nausea.

“I was drunk too,” Draco defended quietly. Charlotte mere sighed heavily again before shaking her head and sitting up.

“Because that makes it so much better…” she said softly before she got up, neglecting to pull the sheet up with her and walking around the room, picking up her articles of clothing and putting them back on. Draco sat up and looked down at the sheets as she did this, feeling incredibly guilty and incredibly hung over. Charlotte began to walk over to the door before turning and looking back at Draco.

“I think you may have just dug yourself a deeper grave, Malfoy,” she spat before pushing open the door and beginning to leave the room.

“Wait,” Draco said, brokenly, half-thinking she was going to leave anyway, but she paused in the doorway, facing away from him. Draco closed his eyes as she stood in the doorway, his whole body feeling like it had been plunged into a pool filled with electric eels. So, they were back on a last name basis, he supposed.

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave you alone, Charlotte,” he said softly, staring hard at her back. He watched as her head fell forward and she gave another great sigh. There was a long silence between the two of them the only sound cutting the silence was the popping, dying embers in the fireplace. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at Draco, her tired eyes meeting his and staring into his for a few moments. She saw and felt how genuinely sorry he was for what had happened in his room.

“I’m so stupid…remember,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear before stepping out of the doorway and closing the door quietly behind her. Draco wasn’t sure what she had meant by any means, but she hadn’t flat out said she didn’t love him. His sighed heavily and ran his fingertips through his hair before pulling himself from the bed, intent on rummaging his bathroom for some pain tablets to quell his killer headache.

Charlotte walked back to her room, pain shooting through every inch of her body as she stepped quickly across expanse of hallway to the guest room. It wasn’t the fact that her and Draco had slept together, but her body was still trying to recoup from her stay in Azkaban. However, the previous night’s actions didn’t quite help either. For now, she would stay in her room until Gregory finally arrived.