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FIC: Infatuation (H/D; R; 800)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: Infatuation
Characters: Astoria, Draco, Harry
Rating: R
Word Count: ~800
Status: Complete
Summary: Astoria thinks that there is more to Harry Potter than meets the eye.
Warning: Angst. Epilogue compliant. Infidelity. Violence. Non-explicit het. Outsider's perspective on Harry and Draco. (This is not my view of things, I'm just exploring possibilities. And I'm depressed.)
Note: Written for
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awdt's
prompt — Awwww, Mum! Do I have to?
She was one of them.
Not that Draco knew anything about it. Astoria imagined that he would mind. A lot.
In her defence, it was difficult not to be one of them — she had no idea how Draco managed. Especially since she knew what happened during the war. Draco had told her that Harry Potter saved his life.
It wasn't just a question of gratitude, perhaps even Draco felt it, but refused to acknowledge it. No, there was more to it. It was the way Harry, for he was Harry in her mind, commanded attention wherever he went, seemingly unaware that he had such an effect on people. Yes, that was it — his inherent modesty, that had nothing to do with shyness, was the thing that captured her. This was something Astoria wasn't accustomed to. Her fellow Slytherins were never modest — that was considered a weakness. However, Harry Potter never seemed weak to her, so she thought maybe her friends got it wrong.
So yes, she was definitely one of them. One of Harry Potter worshippers. A fangirl even. One of those that sent him gifts for his birthday and gossiped viciously about his wife whenever the opportunity presented itself. It wasn't something Astoria was proud of, and she knew she should have definitely stopped after she married Draco. But she couldn't.
She sent him gloves once, they were made of leather and were fur-lined and elegant, and she saw him wear them on one of his wife's Quidditch matches. It gave her tingles and filled her with warmth and desire, and when Draco and she arrived home, she had begged him to press her over the back of the sofa and fuck her until she screamed. He complied, reluctantly. Draco liked to have sex on the bed, in the dark, and he wanted it to be short and efficient. And dull.
She had thought about Harry then. Thought about how a quiet man like him would want to let go and show his other, dangerous side. Because of course he had one. You couldn't possibly defeat the Dark Lord if you're as harmless as Harry pretended. No, there had to be a darker side to Harry. A side he showed to no one.
Oddly enough, the fact that Draco seemed like the only person who wasn't as entranced by Harry as everyone else, was the thing that had attracted her to him. It seemed ... healthy, to have someone to keep you grounded, to remind you that Harry Potter was human like everyone else.
In the long run, it turned out to be a mistake. They weren't doing well, Draco and her, and it probably wasn't just about her infatuation with Harry Potter, but it was a part of it no doubt. Draco's hatred for Harry had lost none of it's potency through the years. His eyes burned each time Harry's name was mentioned. A part of her was angry at this irrational hatred her husband displayed, and a part of her was terrified of what would happen if he found out how she felt.
But it was so difficult to control herself.
This one time, she was in the park with her son when the Potter family appeared. They hadn't even recognized her and she didn't introduce herself. Instead, she just watched as Harry entertained a dark-haired child, tossing him up in the air and then catching him, prompting much laughter and squealing. He seemed so happy and carefree and ... untouchable. She watched him for too long and the redhead beside him had begun to throw her odd looks.
"Scorpius, come on, finish up. We have to go," she said briskly.
Scorpius looked up from the unrecognizable toy he was meticulously destroying, and whined, "Awwww, Mum! Do I have to?"
Harry had looked over when he heard Scorpius' name and his eyes met Astoria's. She could see recognition flare in them. He smiled brilliantly and nodded, and Astoria's knees went weak. Flustered, she grabbed her child and dragged him home. Later, she locked herself in the bathroom and busied her hand between her thighs. She came shuddering with Harry's name on her lips.
And then she cried. For being unfair to her husband. For not loving him as much as he deserved, but instead wanting his least favourite person in the world.
She resolved to be a better wife.
A week after that, she came home too early and found them in the master bedroom. Draco was tied to the bed, spread-eagled and glistening from sweat, his pale skin covered with bites and bruises, and yet, his expression was euphoric. Harry Potter lay between her husband's thighs, thrusting savagely, his expression neither kind, nor modest, nor harmless.
She closed the door quietly, calm on the outside but fuming on the inside, not sure who she hated more. Her husband, Harry or herself.
It was a small consolation that apparently, she was right about Harry. He did have a dangerous side.
But unfortunately for him, Astoria thought, making her way towards the floo and planning to visit the Potters' household, so did she.
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