FIC: Now or Never

[ivyblossom]

Title: Now or Never
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
A/N: I don't know why I wrote this, really. I was in one of those 45 minute fic writing moods. For some reason I decided to try to write something in the first person too. Probably because I've been thinking about why I never write in the first person, but write so close in the third person that I might as well be, so I wondered how it would feel to actually write in the first person. Very odd, as it turns out.

Thanks to ixchelmala, bonibaru, roseanna and gelishan and eponis for the betas. Well, actually, bonibaru didn't beta it, but I felt her influence over me while I wrote it, so I thank her just the same. :)

Note: This fic has an entirely accidental Easter theme phraseology. I didn't include this phraseology to offend the many lovely and talented Christians on my friends list and I hope I'm being oversensitive by warning about it. I didn't even notice until the end, actually. There is no religious imagery purposely imbedded in this fic. Please note that the author of this fic, namely me, does not particularly believe in an afterlife and thus would be highly unlikely to have written about one. That's as close as I can get to telling you what I actually meant to be happening in this fic. *weeps* I am a dweeb.

Now or Never

So denied, so I lied, are you the now or never kind?
-- Eve 6, Here's to the Night

It starts in a bar. Not even a nice one, it's a seedy bar with sticky floors and only two kinds of beer on tap, cheap and cheaper. I say starts as if this is a long story, and it's not. I wish I had more to tell you, but this is all I can say.

It starts in a bar. I'm sitting by myself, which is unusual. Normally I'm surrounded by people I may or may not even like, but it doesn't bother me. I don't like silence, I don't like to be alone. So I'm not unhappy when someone sits down next to me and starts to talk. I'm relieved, really. Sometimes people say this is a sign that I don't like myself much, but I like to think of it as a social addiction rather than self-hatred. But on any given day I change my mind on that one, so I'll leave it to you to decide.

So it starts in a bar, with me, by myself, and this man sidling up next to me and striking up a conversation.

"Hello, Potter," he says. He's drinking beer out of a glass and doesn't look at me.

"My God," I say.

I'm shocked. It's Draco Malfoy, of all people. Draco Malfoy, in a bar, a seedy bar, at half ten on a Friday night. It might not seem strange if you don't know the story, but I know it very well. First I had to live it. After that I had to see it in a dozen headlines, I had to hear it whispered behind my back for years. I've even had to tell the story a few times aloud to groups of attentive and tearful audiences, and I've thought of it a lot more than that, even. I mean, wouldn't you? If you had killed someone like him, wouldn't you think about it a lot? Maybe it's just me. I can't stop thinking about people I've killed, though really it's just person and it's Draco Malfoy and here he is sitting beside me.

So I'm in a bar, right. I'm in a bar having a beer with a dead man. Unbelievable.

At first I think I'm seeing things. I stare at him hard, and blink a lot. He looks pretty much the same. I mean, given that he's been dead for twelve years or so, he looks pretty damn good. From the side, at least. I can only see the side of his face, and his hands. He's wearing a cloak, he didn't shrug it off at the door like most people do. Like I did. He's wearing a wet cloak, black, beaded with rainwater. He looks clean-shaven and there's a bit of a scar on his chin that I don't remember from before.

And I would remember, you know. If it had been there. I inspected him very thoroughly before I killed him. He was my lover at the time, after all. I knew him like the back of my hand, and that's a cliche for a reason. I could pick his shoulders out of a line up, the way they curve, the way his bones jut forward, his muscles, the line of his neck, the mole on his right shoulder blade. My eyesight is pretty piss poor, but it's not as bad as all that. I'd been too close to him too many times for that.

I knew him intimately, you might say. I knew him better than he knew himself, I'd said that a few dozen times. He just laughed. It was a lie, really, most of the time, and I didn't realize it until much later.

So I'm sitting in the bar, I'm half drunk, to be completely honest with you, and my former lover, the one I killed, pulls up a stool next to me. I mean, how often does something like that happen? Really. Dead people don't just appear out of nowhere, and I'm taking ghosts into account, here. They don't just appear five hundred miles and twelve years from the place they were killed.

It's like he just homed in on me. He walks in out of the rain, orders a drink and sit down next to me to say, "Hello, Potter." What am I supposed to do?

I put my hand on his shoulder and he's real, he's really there. He's solid and wet and even the wool of his cloak feels normal. Not a ghost, not a hallucination, unless he's a damn good one.

"My God," I say. I wish I could tell you that I was more articulate than that. I would have liked my first words to be something really witty, like, "Didn't I kill you already?" But that would have hurt me as well as him anyway, and you know I've never been all that great with words.

"My God."

He kind of laughs into his glass, a rueful sort of laugh. "Didn't expect to see me, I guess."

"Not really," I said. "What the hell!" Again, I'm sorry that I don't ask the important questions first. But I'm shocked, you know. Don't think you'd do better in my shoes, I mean, you don't know what it's like, running into someone you killed. Or you thought you killed.

"I haven't got much time," he says.

"I thought..." I start to ask an important question, but he interrupts me.

"I know. I'm sorry. Look, it's not your fault, okay? Can we pretend it didn't happen? Just for tonight?" He's still not looking at me.

"I.." I really am pretty drunk. I'm staring at his fingers now, his flat fingernails. They're very clean and short, just like I remember. I've missed his hands a lot, more than you might think. I mean, I've missed all of him, but I've thought about his hands more than is probably healthy. Sometimes when I wake up and someone else's hands are on me, you know, arms draped over my waist or my chest, or just pressed against my back, I imagine that it's him. I can do that as long as I don't look too hard and don't turn around. There are advantages to having such piss poor eyesight. I want to grab on to his hand now but suddenly I feel shy and out of my mind at the same time.

"I'm not dead, Harry." He's finished off his beer and he claps the glass down on the table. He always was a fast drinker.

"But..." I'm starting to get a little teary-eyed. Don't judge me harshly for that, that's not fair. I am more than half-drunk and am being confronted by my dead lover, it's really to be expected.

"I can't tell you more than that. I can't even tell you that, but I can't bear it much longer. It's just tonight, Harry. That's all I've got." He's looking at me now, and I'm really crying after that speech of his.

Again, you may not understand that unless you know Draco. He's not really one for emotional speeches and that was probably the equivalent of one of your lovers saying, "I love you madly and I always have." And keep in mind that I did kill him. Or at least I think I did.

"I miss you," I say. Because to me he's still dead, and I still miss him, even though he's sitting right in front of me. He's got his hand on my knee. Now that I'm really looking him straight in the face I can see that he's getting a little teary too, so you know it's going to go downhill from here.

"I know," he says. "I've kept an eye on you. Come on, Harry. Let's go somewhere else. I've only got tonight."

And he's not kidding, as it turns out. So I get my coat and put it on, it's still damp from the rain outside, and we tramp out and down the street to my flat. He seems to know exactly where it is, in spite of the fact that I've moved three times since I killed him.

He holds my hand really tight.

When we get inside he pulls off my clothes and attacks me. I'm okay with that, actually, because he was always like that, very enthusiastic. Some people are all talk and some people, like Draco, save it all for their fingers and their lips, for their skin to communicate with yours. And it's like riding a bike, that's another cliche that works. Being with an old lover, no matter how long it's been, it's like riding a bike. You never forget how it feels and you never forget how to do it just the right way.

Well, that's not entirely true. You always suspect that there is a right way, but you never quite get there. Either you're too tired or he is, or you're too excited or he is, or it's too late or the lady upstairs is banging on the floor with her broom handle to get you to shut up or the cat is walking across your legs, or something else. There's always something to get in the way of making everything just perfect, but this time there was nothing in the way. This time everything went exactly the way we had always hoped it would. We aren't eighteen anymore and we can't do all the jumping gymnastics we once enjoyed so much, but that doesn't matter anymore. He's a little thicker than he used to be, stronger, heavier, with a few more scars on his chest and his stomach and his legs, but it's just the same, really. He sounds the same, he feels the same. Hell, he even smells and tastes the same, which I didn't so much expect, not after he's been dead for twelve years.

I didn't stop loving him. I never understood what people said to me, about putting your love in the past tense as soon as someone dies. "I know you loved him," people said to me, afterward. After I killed him, after I pulled out my wand and killed him before he could do much worse and kill innocent people. My feelings for him are not in the past tense, even though he did go bad, even though he was rotten to the core, as they said. They said that in the papers afterward, you probably read that. "Rotten to the core," as if he were an old tree that had to be chopped down. I didn't stop loving him the moment he died. Or even the moment he turned around and threatened to kill all those people, when we were standing off. Like an old western, fingers twitching over our holsters, I drew first and I fired the first shot. Doesn't mean I stopped loving him. Doesn't mean I don't still love him, even though he's dead.

Or, even though he's not.

I don't know why he did what he did, and I don’t know why he's come back from the dead. We're not into conversation at this point, his skin is doing all the talking and I can't help but listen to him. And honestly I don't even wonder. It just feels good to have him back. Better than I can possibly explain. He reaches into me in ways no one else ever could. He was the first, you know. First lover, first love. They say those are always the ones you can't forget, and being with him again is like going back in time, it's like crawling onto a comfortable old couch and flicking on the tv to find your favourite movie on.

Eventually we exhaust ourselves and fall asleep; him first, and then me. I'm not going to tell you what I said to him once he was asleep, because that's between him and me.

In the morning he's gone. Like I said, it's not a long story. I don't know where he came from, or where he went. I'm not even sure he was really here.

Comments

[lilyhs_backup]

The formatting is all screwy.

Just so you know.

*goes to read it*

[lilyhs_backup]

ohhh.

Pretty. Pretty story. Love it.

That was so good!

[(Anonymous)]

*sigh* That was beautiful. The first-person was a bit weird in the beginning, but then I suppose you got the hang of it because it became much better.
Actually my favorite style of yours is in Left-handed and Simple.
Just so you know, I was rereading the very end scene of Origins (that was so beautiful!*sob*) and the "Morning Lemon" and "Metaphysical" chapters of Belong. The part in "Metaphysical" when Draco finally realizes Harry loves him and loses control is just so..so...I love it! =D

[shuntbumps.livejournal.com]

I would weep for poor Harry, but I've had far too many peanut butter eggs. Am confused about the easter theme though, unless you mean the coming back to life part. Heh. Jesus!Draco.

Lovely, as always.

[melieltathariel.livejournal.com]

This is very cool. *wonders if will have to live without explanation of what the hell is actually going on*

[aome.livejournal.com]

*cries for Harry* Lovely ficlet - especially the description of how they fit together, and Draco's current appearance.

I'm wondering how Draco got all those scars if he's supposed to be dead?

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Well, supposed to be is the key phrase. :)

[maraceles.livejournal.com]

Oooh. Interesting!

Surely this isn't it, though? *gives Ivy woobie eyes* This sounds like a prologue to a story with a massively awesome plot behind it! What's happened? What's Draco been doing? I'm assuming he'd be the bad guy, kind of like an Unspeakable, but evil, what with "rotten to the core" and everything. Oooh. I'm just imagining the angst potential...

Please, please write more of this?

And, hey, I thought the first person worked out great!

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

I like your perspective on this. :) Quite a lot. *rubs noses* Thanks for your comment. I'm so tempted by all these "write more" comments, oh my god. I so want to.

*facepalms*

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

iiiiiivyyyyyyyyyy..........*cries*
*makes pitiful emotional noises and tries to say something*
guh.
*is puddle*
*hugs them really really tight*
*yells at them that they're ALIVE, like an idiot*

*decides to watch her harry & draco action figures get it on some more* >.<

wahhhhh. i am too sad and weepy to be coheeeereeeennnttttt....

but i'll tryyyyyyy.
*goes to get ice-cream* (and i need it, too!!)
*cradles her ben-n-jerry's*
THIS WAS SO SAAAAAAAD. i always turn into a five-year old with things like this. waaaaah. i mean, some things are angst and depressing and definitely hankie!fics but not this, this was just saaaaad. all sadness but not -depressing- (which is lingering, disturbing, painful) more -pure-, just, the destruction of purity, the inevitability of loss. living with it. i know what it's like. maybe that's it. because after years pass, it -doesn't- go away, and love doesn't tarnish like that-- you can do all sorts of horrible and awful things-- and after a while, the angst dissipates and it all doesn't matter and you just miss them, all the little things and just -them-. and it's not even related to the history or what they did to you or to anyone, it's just a need for them. like you (they) fit together, and it's wrong to be apart, just wrongwrongwrong and it's, just right somehow, in memory, and it falls together in your mind after it's too late, somehow.

there's such a simple purity to this. and the thing i noticed, btw, was that this was much more a pov-piece than the usual run of first-person narratives. you've pinpointed the difference between third-person limited and first person, mostly because instead of merely describing things tinged only by this one character's perception, you're also telling a story-- the "i" implies self-awareness, so you're limited in what you say. in a way, it's like role-playing, and instead of merely a player, or also implying an audience.

this was a wonderful use of first-person, i thought, with the restraint, and the self-awareness and the telling-without-telling. it created such an atmosphere-- not just through dialogue and description (and there wasn't a lot of description, naturally), but through -voice-, the narrative voice itself, and the precise things it revealed (sometimes by leaving out). when i saw,

I can't stop thinking about people I've killed,
-wah-, that killed me ><
and the way he keeps saying "my god", and just-- there's such a realism to the way he reacts, i think. i wonder about the scars (i wonder if that was something you randomly put in or if you meant something by it, plot-wise).
usually, you have to be careful not to make your first-person character be too perceptive. and i think this dealt interestingly with that. by making it conversational, you feel as if he's -divulging- instead of judging his self-awareness, you feel as if you're being told secrets, the reflections the passage of time has given him. it's a trick, in a way-- since you could say the same things in a different way and maybe they'd seem overly self-aware-- but since it's in such a tone, it seems natural.

wah. this just killed me. *hugs her plush harry* love, of course. love your writing.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh Ivy that was beautiful. I quite liked the way you left so much unsaid, unexplained. It makes this fic all the more beautiful and bittersweet and angsty...and oh just so original.

Thank you for writing it, thank you for sharing it.


Lia

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much!

*rubs noses*

[kearie.livejournal.com]

Incredible, as usual. Written in a really believable voice. I'm not sure which idea I would like better: If Draco's not really dead and came back for one more night with Harry or if Harry really misses Draco *that* much that he hallucinates the entire evening... Do you have in mind exactly what happened or is as much of a mystery to you as it is to us? At any rate, it was wonderful! :D

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Heheheh for once I know exactly what happened. :)

[ashkitty.livejournal.com]

*adores*

Actually I really like the Easter theme, but every year at this time I get the same idea for a vampire story that I never end up writing. ;)

Beautiful, really. Very tragic, that things didn't work out but he loved him anyway but did what he had to do and..yeah.

*loves*

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

*weeps*

[carmody.livejournal.com]

If you had killed someone like him, wouldn't you think about it a lot? Maybe it's just me. I can't stop thinking about people I've killed, though really it's just person and it's Draco Malfoy and here he is sitting beside me.
Man, from right there I knew I'd like this. Well, from earlier, but that cemented it. You make Harry so interesting and portray him so differently that I've seen before in this. Social addiction, sitting in a seedy bar, incoherent and remembering little silly details from twelve years prior... I love it. I'll probably tell you this every time I comment, but I love your characters.

I never understood what people said to me, about putting your love in the past tense as soon as someone dies.
I like this.

Okay, I like this whole thing. Am very glad I stumbled upon your LJ while you were writing 'Cure for the Flu.' Your humor drew me in, your wit and wonderful prose made me stay. :)

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Oh silly old Cure for the Flu. Hehehhehehee. I'm glad you stuck around too. :) Thanks for your comments, I really appreciate them.

[coloredvision.livejournal.com]

Haha, ah, erm, that carmody person is secretly me. In a disguise. Mmmhmm.

*runs away*

[darthtunaqueen.livejournal.com]

muffin, you are ubermazing! *GLOMPS HAPPILY*

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

I wonder if I'm a muffin bottom or a muffin top. *rubs noses*

[here-in-spain.livejournal.com]

I'm not even sure he was really here.

*sniffs*

It's beautiful. And I love Harry's POV. And... awww. *huggles Harry*

I'd love to read more of this, it sounds like an awesome beginning to a fic! ;)

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

DON'T FEED THE ANIMALS. Hehehheehehehe I have no self-restraint.

*rubs noses*

Thanks. :)

[(Anonymous)]

*gets a little teary herself*

My 1st thought on "what really happened":
Draco is not dead as he has scars all over and is more muscled; he has just been underground. Because of some things he says and because this is a fic by Ivy I'm thinking spying or some other secret work for Harry's/world's good.

wah. Poor everybody. The 1st person made it extra sad and confused and hopeless.

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Well, I like your reading of it. :) I like it a lot.

*rubs noses*

[luxuryrevenge.livejournal.com]

That really was lovely. Harry's voice in this is a little different than I'd expect, but upon reflection, it's more like I consider his personality. There's a brashness that's missing from most characterizations.
Since you know what happened, does that mean there will be more to this story? *hopes*
Also--if I may fangirl a little--I love your stories! Origins/Belong etc is SO GOOD, and I just read Your Darkest Voice which was so perfect and haunting.

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Awww, thanks, hon. heheheheheee...I don't know, there may be more, or I may restrain myself. I'm not sure yet. :) My drive to make sequels to everything isn't always a good idea...

*rubs noses*

Thanks for reading, and thanks so much for your comments.

[addictedkitten.livejournal.com]

Oooh, interesting style. And dude, you made me like, really sad. Why you gotta hurt me like that, Ivy. *shakes head* Wonderful, as usual.

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

I was listening to a lot of Billie Holiday all weekend. What can I say?

[moia.livejournal.com]

Lovely written.
I want to know what happened! Back then when Harry 'killed' Draco. And what happens after this encounter. I mean, if Draco came to Harry once, he could do it again? I know he said 'only tonight' but, but, he wasn't even supposed to do it once ad he did and he could again, right? Or Harry could go on a desperate (but succesful) search party... I do hope you'll continue writing this story.

Moya (I've read & enjoyed muchly tons of your writing, but I really seldom review because am shy and lazy. *kicks self*)

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

Thank you thank you. :) Heheheh I love my fellow H/D shippers, constantly looking for ways to put them back together again. I started to write a sequel but was threatened with a lot of pain if I tried. (bonibaru does not like my drive to make sequels for everything. Teehehehee.) But I might do it anyway, who knows.

*rubs noses*

Thanks so much for reading.

[novembersnow.livejournal.com]

LOL...I just noticed your revised author note this morning. You crack me up, you dweeb. *loves*

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

I was fussing too much. LOL

[boniblithe.livejournal.com]

Dude - how is it that you know my kinks without me telling you, and nail them so perfectly? The fic has a very noir-ish feel over it: rain, nighttime, seedy bar, a "dead" lover, first person narrative, a mystery ... I'm picturing Harry taking Draco back to his little flat on the bad side of town where a neon sign from the bodega across the street makes Draco's skin glow pale red and flawless, hiding the scars ... I'm seeing blue wispy cigarette smoke and shadowy ceiling fans and cold, hard rain ... and pain, sadness, angstwoewoobieheartbreak! Where has Draco been! How did he manage to somehow fake his death and then manage to stay away from Harry for twelve years? And more importantly - why did he come back? Why now?

I love the way it starts out feeling like a 50's detective novel and turns into something modern and angsty. It's beautiful ... I'm so honored to have been thought of :)

[ivyblossom.livejournal.com]

[debellatrix.livejournal.com]

I love the rhythm of the first three paragraphs. It really feels like the story is being told to me, but also makes seems like I’m eavesdropping somehow.

The story manages to be very funny and extremely sad at the same time.

Basically a story full of competing feelings; I love it.

[biztheinsane.livejournal.com]

Mysterious and wonderful fics make me want to cry. In a good way. <3

[ordencodex.livejournal.com]

Aww! I loved that thoroughly and 'to the core'.
Although, now it's bugging me because I want to know where he went.
Anyhow, great job Ivy!

-_- so beautiful

[(Anonymous)]

now I have tears in my eyes. I really hope you'll write more. I want to know so much more and I think this is too good (really!) not to write more. I love the style, I love Draco and Harry, I love you as one of my favorite writers.

Thank you Ivy!

[lestrange.livejournal.com]

So denied, so I lied, are [you] the now or never kind?
-- Eve 6, Here's to the Night

just thought you might you to have that fixed.

fabulous story, by the way. or should i say, 'as usual'? *g*

*loves*