Tomorrow belongs To Me
Dec. 16th, 2005 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlite_trystOn to the fic.
Title: Tomorrow belongs To Me.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luciology
Rating: PG-13,
Pairing: DM/PP, implied H/D
Word Count: 2305
Genre: Angst, Romance
Summary: Obligation and duty are heavy crosses to bear, but what seemed impossible 20 years ago can finally become reality if you have Faith.
Disclaimer: No ownership, no money.
Beta:saladbats, the fastest beta in the West. *Kisses under the mistletoe*
Prompt: a slight reworking of "I think he'll appreciate that."
A/N: Although I managed to fit in this weeks AWDT prompt this fic was written for someone who has become very special to me as a friend this year -earth_magic. The inspiration for this fic comes from mizbean's Prelude Series, and the title is from a song on the Cabaret soundtrack.
Written forearth_magic and jamie2109 and nocturnali’s AWDT.
Feeling decidedly morose after consuming one too many Firewhiskeys, Draco leaned back in his leather chair and glanced around his study, empty glass in hand. The grain of the oak wood panelling caught his attention for a moment, seeming to dance before his eyes in the flickering firelight. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly trailed the fingers of one hand along the smooth surface of his much loved antique burr walnut desk, before tracing the familiar outlines of numerous framed photographs in front of him, as if committing them to memory. He wasn’t even aware that someone else had entered the study until he felt the gentle touch of another hand on his, stilling the restless movement of his fingers. A softly spoken voice broke through his reflections.
“A Knut for your thoughts, Father.”
Turning towards the voice, Draco’s grim expression softened at the sight of his daughter, Faith, standing by his side; so like her grandmother Narcissa in stature and appearance, still radiant in her ivory and gold haute couture wedding gown despite the day long celebrations. Draco leant across his desk to place his empty glass on a coaster, buying a few precious seconds in which to compose himself, before he stood and faced her. In an effort to lighten the mood of the moment he quipped, “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
Faith smiled up at him, taking both his hands in hers. Returning her smile, Draco raised her hands to his lips, softly kissing the back of each one. He looked into Faith’s eyes that he knew were the mirror image of his own and said, “You are a beautiful, intelligent and gifted young woman. Your Grandmother would have been so proud of you if she had lived to see this day. I am proud of you as well, never forget that.”
“I won’t, Father. I’m proud of you too.”
Faith lowered her gaze for a moment then took a deep breath before continuing, “I know these years have not been easy for you, to say the least. I’m surprised that you’ve stayed until now. Sometimes...” She glanced up briefly at him again. “Sometimes I think that if it hadn’t been for me you could...”
“Shush,” Draco said softly. He let go of Faith’s hands, before taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her head so she would see the sincerity in his face. “I don’t regret being your father, Faith. Not for one moment. You do know that, don’t you,” he said earnestly.
Looking at his solemn expression, Faith stood on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek before replying, “Yes. I do know that.”
Draco gestured toward the desk. “I’ve reset the locking charm so the drawers will only open for you. You know the spell. Everything has been legally transferred to you: the house, the land, and my majority shares in the company. The deeds of transfer are safely locked away in the Gringotts vault I’ve opened for your use alone. You will need to set up a joint vault for you and your husband. The Board of Directors have been briefed to expect you to take charge once you return from your honeymoon." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, then tenderly brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face. "The Malfoy empire is all in your very capable hands now - that’s my wedding gift to you.”
Faith tilted her head slightly to the side and regarded her Father thoughtfully while he returned to perusing the photographs on the desk, the movement causing the jewels that pinned up her long blonde hair to glisten in the firelight. “I don’t know what to say to truly convey how I feel at this moment. Thank you is woefully inadequate. You can rest assured, Father that I won’t let you down.” Faith paused, distracted for a moment by the sight of Draco running a finger gently over a photograph of herself as a child, caressing her hair repeatedly. Her six year old self sat still, looking up at him adoringly. Faith touched Draco’s arm gently. “I will see you again…” she hesitated, as if afraid of the answer, “won’t I? “
Draco looked up sharply. “Of course you will!” he said, aghast. “But it won’t be for some time I’m afraid. I need to sort things out like finding somewhere to live, getting in touch with some… people. And I think it’s in your best interest if I maintain a low profile while you establish yourself, in no uncertain terms, as the new head of the Malfoy Estate and holdings.”
“I understand.” Faith leaned back against the desk, folded her arms and looked across the study to the portrait hanging above the carved fireplace in an ornate gilt frame. “What about Mother?”
Draco followed her gaze to the portrait, a family pose painted after several years of marriage, before he fully understood the toll 'doing one’s duty' would take on his heart.
“Don’t worry. I’ve provided for her too, in my absence. She will have a generous monthly allowance besides continuing to live here or in the Knightsbridge house. However, there is a condition attached; that our family business stays just that. Family business will not become fuel for malicious gossip around the dinner tables of hoi polloi.”
Faith threw her arms around him and crushed herself to his chest. “I love you so much, Father.”
Draco wrapped his arms around her slim form and let his cheek rest gently against her hair. “I know you do and I consider myself blessed every day to have your love and unwavering support.” Like a frozen tableau they stood in silence for several moments, each drawing some comfort from the other. Draco placed a chaste kiss on the top of Faith’s head. “Be happy,” he whispered into her hair.
“I am happy, Father,” she said, drawing back to look at him with a smile on her lips. “I’m very happy for you too, even though you’re going to leave us so soon.”
“So soon? Well, I wasn’t planning on leaving tonight,” he said, frowning slightly as he detected a slight but discernable Malfoy smirk on Faith’s face. “I know that expression of old. Should I be worried?”.
Laughing, Faith shook her head. “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Taking his hand, she pulled him away from the desk. “I have something for you,” she said, leading him toward the door, “downstairs.”
Draco paused briefly and quirked an eyebrow, “Now I am worried. It’s not traditional for the bride to buy her father a present you know.”
“Tradition be dammed,” she said smacking him playfully on the arm after linking it with hers, “I’m a thoroughly modern Malfoy.”
“Now there’s a contradiction in terms, Faith,” said Draco in an amused tone, “your Grandfather would be turning in his grave – if he had one.”
“And don’t be so presumptuous. Who said I’d bought you anything,” she shot back with a grin, as they walked side by side toward the grand staircase.
~ * ~
Resplendent in her gold Mikado silk beaded gown, perfectly coiffed hair and the Black family emeralds around her neck, Pansy mingled effortlessly with the guests - the perfect hostess consummate in the knowledge that the society pages of both The Daily Prophet and Wiltshire Wizarding Life would be full of her daughter’s wedding and glittering reception.
Turning to speak to another celebrity guest, perfect smile in place, she suddenly caught a glimpse through the open ballroom doors of someone standing in the shadows of the marble pillars to the right of the front door.
Putting down her champagne flute on a side table, she made her way as quickly as she could, without attracting unwanted attention from her guests, to the hall to satisfy her curiosity.
The colour drained from Pansy’s face and a knot of unease settled in her stomach when she reached the double doors that separated the ballroom from the entrance hall. She clutched the door jamb for support as she took in the oh-so-familiar profile of the man standing before her, looking intently at the grand staircase. No, it can’t be, she thought. He wouldn’t dare. Not here. Not now.
Pansy marched over to him and demanded in hushed tones, “How did you get in? Entrance is by charmed invitation only to get through the wards and I specifically remember not inviting you. You have no business being here.”
Harry turned slowly to face her. “Actually, I was sent an invitation. I was rather surprised myself to receive it,” he said, retrieving the gold scalloped-edged invitation from the inside pocket of his jacket and showing it to her. “See?”
Pansy snatched it off him, her eyes widening in surprise when she recognised the elegant script that flowed across the centre. Betrayal and hurt coalesced in Pansy and she seethed with barely concealed anger. She crumpled up the invitation with one hand and dropped it on the floor. “What do you want, Potter?”
“Now Pansy, let’s not skirt around the issue. We both know what I want,” he answered calmly. Looking into her eyes, Harry knew that if they could speak, Pansy’s would be screaming Avada Kedavra at him right now.
“It’s Mrs Malfoy to you,” she sneered. “Today is my… no, our daughter’s wedding day and this is a private function. So, if you don’t get out of this house now, make no mistake about it, guests or no guests I will hex you.”
“Don’t worry Mrs Malfoy, I ‘m not here to cause a scene,” Harry said, the title ‘Mrs’ sounding like something distasteful to be spat out of his mouth. “I don’t think your daughter, or Draco for that matter, would appreciate that. I’ve come to collect what’s rightfully mine and leave without any fuss.”
“There’s nothing that belongs to you in this house,” Pansy retorted, fists clenched.
“I beg to differ," Harry replied cooly, “and I’m not leaving without him. Not this time.”
Pansy glared at him. “Go to hell, Potter!”
“Where do you think I’ve been these last 20 years,” he said some with bitterness, “having to share him with you?”
Pansy snorted, “If you’re expecting pity, you’re looking at the wrong person.”
“No, I’m not expecting pity. I’m expecting you to remember that while you got what you wanted: the money, the power that came with his name, the fancy house and wealth, I only ever wanted him - just him.”
~ * ~
Approaching the top of the sweeping staircase with Faith, Draco could discern the distant sounds of the string quartet still playing and the chattering of guests, along with unexpected sounds of anger coming from the hallway below.
He exchanged glances with his daughter then leaned over the banister to see what the disturbance was, instantly recognising his wife arguing with an exceedingly well-dressed man in a perfectly tailored subtle grey and black pin-striped suit and messy… Oh, God!
The world, as Draco Abraxas Malfoy knew it, ceased to exist at that moment as every fibre of his being focused on the man below him. His chest hurt, it felt like he was going to burst until he realised he’d forgotten to breathe out and exhaled slowly, breathing out one word.
“Harry.”
Harry whirled around, his eyes locking with Draco’s. A broad grin instantly lit up his face.
“Draco,” he murmured.
“Harry.” Draco repeated softly, too stunned to move any further.
Harry kept his eyes fixed on Draco as he started to move across the cavernous entrance hall. Pansy grabbed at the shoulder of his jacket in an effort to hold him back from his goal, but he shook her off.
Something welled up inside Draco, fierce and proud, at the thought of this man. This man whom he’d loved, but frequently left alone, all these years coming here for him, Draco, on this special night. Draco turned back to Faith.
“This is your doing, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Faith smiled at him. “Consider it my wedding gift to you." She detached herself from Draco's side and moved to the top stair. "Come," she said, holding out her hand to him. “It’s time.”
Draco looked down at Harry who stood, transfixed, in the centre of the hall looking up at him. Harry's expression was a mixture of uncertainty and joy. He looked back at Faith, his brain flatly refusing to process the simple words he knew he should understand.
“Time?”
“Time to go,” she inclined her head toward Harry, “with him.”
Harry resisted the urge to pelt up the stairs and kiss Draco soundly, to stake his claim, because he didn't want to attract the attention of the guests in the ballroom. He glanced at Pansy, who stood white with fury watching father and daughter descend quickly, hand in hand.
“I think the House of Malfoy is under new management,” he observed, “which undermines your status wouldn’t you say?”
Draco let go of Faith’s hand and reached for Harry, pulling him into a fierce embrace. His usually cool façade melted instantly, and he was unable to stop himself from planting small kisses all over Harry’s face. Harry returned the embrace, surrendering completely to their first public display of affection.
Draco finally pulled back but held Harry’s hand tightly just in case, by the simple act of letting go, he woke up and found it had all been a dream.
He looked across at Pansy, who stood there, too shell-shocked to speak, let alone hex Harry.
“I kept my word these long years,” his voice cracked with emotion, “but now I’m done with tradition, obligation and duty. I’m finally free to choose the person I love because from now on, tomorrow and every other day after belongs to me.”
~ * ~
Faith's wedding dress by St. Pucchi
For those who may have wondered what Tomorrow Belongs To Me Harry looked like in his pin-striped suit...
Just imagine him nearer 40 than 30.
If you liked this fic, you must readcoffeejunkii's wonderful remix, from Harry's POV: Twenty Years (the forever and beyond remix).
Title: Tomorrow belongs To Me.
Author:
luciologyRating: PG-13,
Pairing: DM/PP, implied H/D
Word Count: 2305
Genre: Angst, Romance
Summary: Obligation and duty are heavy crosses to bear, but what seemed impossible 20 years ago can finally become reality if you have Faith.
Disclaimer: No ownership, no money.
Beta:
saladbats, the fastest beta in the West. *Kisses under the mistletoe*Prompt: a slight reworking of "I think he'll appreciate that."
A/N: Although I managed to fit in this weeks AWDT prompt this fic was written for someone who has become very special to me as a friend this year -
earth_magic. The inspiration for this fic comes from mizbean's Prelude Series, and the title is from a song on the Cabaret soundtrack. Written for
earth_magic and jamie2109 and nocturnali’s AWDT. Feeling decidedly morose after consuming one too many Firewhiskeys, Draco leaned back in his leather chair and glanced around his study, empty glass in hand. The grain of the oak wood panelling caught his attention for a moment, seeming to dance before his eyes in the flickering firelight. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly trailed the fingers of one hand along the smooth surface of his much loved antique burr walnut desk, before tracing the familiar outlines of numerous framed photographs in front of him, as if committing them to memory. He wasn’t even aware that someone else had entered the study until he felt the gentle touch of another hand on his, stilling the restless movement of his fingers. A softly spoken voice broke through his reflections.
“A Knut for your thoughts, Father.”
Turning towards the voice, Draco’s grim expression softened at the sight of his daughter, Faith, standing by his side; so like her grandmother Narcissa in stature and appearance, still radiant in her ivory and gold haute couture wedding gown despite the day long celebrations. Draco leant across his desk to place his empty glass on a coaster, buying a few precious seconds in which to compose himself, before he stood and faced her. In an effort to lighten the mood of the moment he quipped, “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
Faith smiled up at him, taking both his hands in hers. Returning her smile, Draco raised her hands to his lips, softly kissing the back of each one. He looked into Faith’s eyes that he knew were the mirror image of his own and said, “You are a beautiful, intelligent and gifted young woman. Your Grandmother would have been so proud of you if she had lived to see this day. I am proud of you as well, never forget that.”
“I won’t, Father. I’m proud of you too.”
Faith lowered her gaze for a moment then took a deep breath before continuing, “I know these years have not been easy for you, to say the least. I’m surprised that you’ve stayed until now. Sometimes...” She glanced up briefly at him again. “Sometimes I think that if it hadn’t been for me you could...”
“Shush,” Draco said softly. He let go of Faith’s hands, before taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her head so she would see the sincerity in his face. “I don’t regret being your father, Faith. Not for one moment. You do know that, don’t you,” he said earnestly.
Looking at his solemn expression, Faith stood on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek before replying, “Yes. I do know that.”
Draco gestured toward the desk. “I’ve reset the locking charm so the drawers will only open for you. You know the spell. Everything has been legally transferred to you: the house, the land, and my majority shares in the company. The deeds of transfer are safely locked away in the Gringotts vault I’ve opened for your use alone. You will need to set up a joint vault for you and your husband. The Board of Directors have been briefed to expect you to take charge once you return from your honeymoon." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, then tenderly brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face. "The Malfoy empire is all in your very capable hands now - that’s my wedding gift to you.”
Faith tilted her head slightly to the side and regarded her Father thoughtfully while he returned to perusing the photographs on the desk, the movement causing the jewels that pinned up her long blonde hair to glisten in the firelight. “I don’t know what to say to truly convey how I feel at this moment. Thank you is woefully inadequate. You can rest assured, Father that I won’t let you down.” Faith paused, distracted for a moment by the sight of Draco running a finger gently over a photograph of herself as a child, caressing her hair repeatedly. Her six year old self sat still, looking up at him adoringly. Faith touched Draco’s arm gently. “I will see you again…” she hesitated, as if afraid of the answer, “won’t I? “
Draco looked up sharply. “Of course you will!” he said, aghast. “But it won’t be for some time I’m afraid. I need to sort things out like finding somewhere to live, getting in touch with some… people. And I think it’s in your best interest if I maintain a low profile while you establish yourself, in no uncertain terms, as the new head of the Malfoy Estate and holdings.”
“I understand.” Faith leaned back against the desk, folded her arms and looked across the study to the portrait hanging above the carved fireplace in an ornate gilt frame. “What about Mother?”
Draco followed her gaze to the portrait, a family pose painted after several years of marriage, before he fully understood the toll 'doing one’s duty' would take on his heart.
“Don’t worry. I’ve provided for her too, in my absence. She will have a generous monthly allowance besides continuing to live here or in the Knightsbridge house. However, there is a condition attached; that our family business stays just that. Family business will not become fuel for malicious gossip around the dinner tables of hoi polloi.”
Faith threw her arms around him and crushed herself to his chest. “I love you so much, Father.”
Draco wrapped his arms around her slim form and let his cheek rest gently against her hair. “I know you do and I consider myself blessed every day to have your love and unwavering support.” Like a frozen tableau they stood in silence for several moments, each drawing some comfort from the other. Draco placed a chaste kiss on the top of Faith’s head. “Be happy,” he whispered into her hair.
“I am happy, Father,” she said, drawing back to look at him with a smile on her lips. “I’m very happy for you too, even though you’re going to leave us so soon.”
“So soon? Well, I wasn’t planning on leaving tonight,” he said, frowning slightly as he detected a slight but discernable Malfoy smirk on Faith’s face. “I know that expression of old. Should I be worried?”.
Laughing, Faith shook her head. “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Taking his hand, she pulled him away from the desk. “I have something for you,” she said, leading him toward the door, “downstairs.”
Draco paused briefly and quirked an eyebrow, “Now I am worried. It’s not traditional for the bride to buy her father a present you know.”
“Tradition be dammed,” she said smacking him playfully on the arm after linking it with hers, “I’m a thoroughly modern Malfoy.”
“Now there’s a contradiction in terms, Faith,” said Draco in an amused tone, “your Grandfather would be turning in his grave – if he had one.”
“And don’t be so presumptuous. Who said I’d bought you anything,” she shot back with a grin, as they walked side by side toward the grand staircase.
Resplendent in her gold Mikado silk beaded gown, perfectly coiffed hair and the Black family emeralds around her neck, Pansy mingled effortlessly with the guests - the perfect hostess consummate in the knowledge that the society pages of both The Daily Prophet and Wiltshire Wizarding Life would be full of her daughter’s wedding and glittering reception.
Turning to speak to another celebrity guest, perfect smile in place, she suddenly caught a glimpse through the open ballroom doors of someone standing in the shadows of the marble pillars to the right of the front door.
Putting down her champagne flute on a side table, she made her way as quickly as she could, without attracting unwanted attention from her guests, to the hall to satisfy her curiosity.
The colour drained from Pansy’s face and a knot of unease settled in her stomach when she reached the double doors that separated the ballroom from the entrance hall. She clutched the door jamb for support as she took in the oh-so-familiar profile of the man standing before her, looking intently at the grand staircase. No, it can’t be, she thought. He wouldn’t dare. Not here. Not now.
Pansy marched over to him and demanded in hushed tones, “How did you get in? Entrance is by charmed invitation only to get through the wards and I specifically remember not inviting you. You have no business being here.”
Harry turned slowly to face her. “Actually, I was sent an invitation. I was rather surprised myself to receive it,” he said, retrieving the gold scalloped-edged invitation from the inside pocket of his jacket and showing it to her. “See?”
Pansy snatched it off him, her eyes widening in surprise when she recognised the elegant script that flowed across the centre. Betrayal and hurt coalesced in Pansy and she seethed with barely concealed anger. She crumpled up the invitation with one hand and dropped it on the floor. “What do you want, Potter?”
“Now Pansy, let’s not skirt around the issue. We both know what I want,” he answered calmly. Looking into her eyes, Harry knew that if they could speak, Pansy’s would be screaming Avada Kedavra at him right now.
“It’s Mrs Malfoy to you,” she sneered. “Today is my… no, our daughter’s wedding day and this is a private function. So, if you don’t get out of this house now, make no mistake about it, guests or no guests I will hex you.”
“Don’t worry Mrs Malfoy, I ‘m not here to cause a scene,” Harry said, the title ‘Mrs’ sounding like something distasteful to be spat out of his mouth. “I don’t think your daughter, or Draco for that matter, would appreciate that. I’ve come to collect what’s rightfully mine and leave without any fuss.”
“There’s nothing that belongs to you in this house,” Pansy retorted, fists clenched.
“I beg to differ," Harry replied cooly, “and I’m not leaving without him. Not this time.”
Pansy glared at him. “Go to hell, Potter!”
“Where do you think I’ve been these last 20 years,” he said some with bitterness, “having to share him with you?”
Pansy snorted, “If you’re expecting pity, you’re looking at the wrong person.”
“No, I’m not expecting pity. I’m expecting you to remember that while you got what you wanted: the money, the power that came with his name, the fancy house and wealth, I only ever wanted him - just him.”
Approaching the top of the sweeping staircase with Faith, Draco could discern the distant sounds of the string quartet still playing and the chattering of guests, along with unexpected sounds of anger coming from the hallway below.
He exchanged glances with his daughter then leaned over the banister to see what the disturbance was, instantly recognising his wife arguing with an exceedingly well-dressed man in a perfectly tailored subtle grey and black pin-striped suit and messy… Oh, God!
The world, as Draco Abraxas Malfoy knew it, ceased to exist at that moment as every fibre of his being focused on the man below him. His chest hurt, it felt like he was going to burst until he realised he’d forgotten to breathe out and exhaled slowly, breathing out one word.
“Harry.”
Harry whirled around, his eyes locking with Draco’s. A broad grin instantly lit up his face.
“Draco,” he murmured.
“Harry.” Draco repeated softly, too stunned to move any further.
Harry kept his eyes fixed on Draco as he started to move across the cavernous entrance hall. Pansy grabbed at the shoulder of his jacket in an effort to hold him back from his goal, but he shook her off.
Something welled up inside Draco, fierce and proud, at the thought of this man. This man whom he’d loved, but frequently left alone, all these years coming here for him, Draco, on this special night. Draco turned back to Faith.
“This is your doing, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Faith smiled at him. “Consider it my wedding gift to you." She detached herself from Draco's side and moved to the top stair. "Come," she said, holding out her hand to him. “It’s time.”
Draco looked down at Harry who stood, transfixed, in the centre of the hall looking up at him. Harry's expression was a mixture of uncertainty and joy. He looked back at Faith, his brain flatly refusing to process the simple words he knew he should understand.
“Time?”
“Time to go,” she inclined her head toward Harry, “with him.”
Harry resisted the urge to pelt up the stairs and kiss Draco soundly, to stake his claim, because he didn't want to attract the attention of the guests in the ballroom. He glanced at Pansy, who stood white with fury watching father and daughter descend quickly, hand in hand.
“I think the House of Malfoy is under new management,” he observed, “which undermines your status wouldn’t you say?”
Draco let go of Faith’s hand and reached for Harry, pulling him into a fierce embrace. His usually cool façade melted instantly, and he was unable to stop himself from planting small kisses all over Harry’s face. Harry returned the embrace, surrendering completely to their first public display of affection.
Draco finally pulled back but held Harry’s hand tightly just in case, by the simple act of letting go, he woke up and found it had all been a dream.
He looked across at Pansy, who stood there, too shell-shocked to speak, let alone hex Harry.
“I kept my word these long years,” his voice cracked with emotion, “but now I’m done with tradition, obligation and duty. I’m finally free to choose the person I love because from now on, tomorrow and every other day after belongs to me.”
Faith's wedding dress by St. Pucchi
For those who may have wondered what Tomorrow Belongs To Me Harry looked like in his pin-striped suit...
Just imagine him nearer 40 than 30.
If you liked this fic, you must read
coffeejunkii's wonderful remix, from Harry's POV: Twenty Years (the forever and beyond remix).
