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wook77Title: Accident of Fate
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wook77
Pairing: Fred/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 681
Summary: They meet for coffee every Friday. It's an accident of Fate, it has to be.
A/N: First day of my Fic Advent Calendar. Unbeta'd as all of the Advent fics will be. Also - I've decided that this fitsanasuede's prompt of "you're crazy".
They met for coffee every Friday. They had since the War, the war where he'd lost a brother and the other'd lost his identity. The meetings weren't planned; Fred didn't like to think that he would willingly meet up with Draco Malfoy for coffee every Friday. It was purely an accident of Fate when they would find themselves at the out of the way Muggle coffee shop together. It was only polite to sit together and if one was sitting with another person, manners insisted that they converse.
That first week, Fred had baited Malfoy, had cast slurs on the whole family, insane blighters that they were. Had to be what with that crazy bitch, Bellatrix and Lucius of the now-I-serve-now-I-don't-and-hey-I'm-serving-again-don't-I-look-great-in-Azkaban. Fred'd always thought there was something wrong with Narcissa as well, no one was ever that quiet and rigid.
Malfoy was definitely one of them. After all, why the bloody hell would Malfoy be sitting in a Muggle coffee shop, let alone with one of the blokes that had enjoyed battering his face? Fred had to admit that he still enjoyed the memory of ramming his fist into Malfoy's smirking face. It'd been worth all those hours with Umbridge and Filch. Even more, the stupid sodding little ferret had deserved it.
"Bunch of nutters, aren't you, Malfoy?" It was a non-sequitur into their conversation about Sartre and his philosophy of society and consciousness. Fred's light conversational tone didn't take the bite from the meaning, not as far as Fred was concerned.
"Why's that?" Malfoy toyed with the spoon sitting so close to his coffee, straightening it on the napkin and lining it up just so.
"Why you here every sodding week?" They hadn't been confrontational since the fourth week. Considering that Fred'd lost count of how many weeks they'd been meeting (sixty seven), it felt odd.
"It's not for the current conversation." Malfoy's condescending tone grated as he picked up the spoon. As he stirred his coffee, the metal barely tapped against the ceramic. Finally, as the silence dragged on, Fred laughed and sipped his own coffee.
A quick grin, so fast that Fred wasn't sure that he'd seen it or not, flashed on Malfoy's face before Fred caught Malfoy's hands setting the spoon down carefully, lining it up just so on the napkin. He wondered about those hands, what they did when they weren't here holding a coffee cup, how they dealt with the idea that they were dead to the world they'd grown up in.
Fred and Draco didn't talk of life or families, certainly didn't discuss their shared and unshared pasts. They spoke of inconsequential things, philosophers and artists, the meaning of life and the meaning of the face inscribed on a coin.
After they'd shared a coffee, they'd wander outside, to the alley behind the shop and they'd Apparate to Malfoy's place where hands would grasp, sometimes frantic and sometimes languid. Skin would slide against skin and Fred would bite his tongue and clench his jaw to hold back the wrong name. Malfoy'd do the same though there were times, as fingers traced lips and hands cupped jaws, that neither could avoid breathing out the wrong name in a sort of prayer.
Afterwards, Fred'd dress and Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron where he'd call a greeting to Tom, still barman after all the turmoil and fighting, before making his way to his empty flat and the cheerful store underneath.
It was always an accident of Fate that they'd meet. Fred couldn't predict that he'd end up at a Muggle coffee shop on the other side of London every Friday at two thirty. He certainly had no way of predicting that Malfoy would be there as well.
As he went to take another sip, Fred was shocked to discover that the coffee was gone. When he saw Malfoy smirking over the rim of his cup, Fred sat the mug down and touched Malfoy's spoon, upsetting its placement. They exchanged glares before standing and walking out of the shop.
Their shoulders brushed as they walked into the alley.
As always, I'd love to hear what you think.
Author:
wook77Pairing: Fred/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 681
Summary: They meet for coffee every Friday. It's an accident of Fate, it has to be.
A/N: First day of my Fic Advent Calendar. Unbeta'd as all of the Advent fics will be. Also - I've decided that this fits
anasuede's prompt of "you're crazy".They met for coffee every Friday. They had since the War, the war where he'd lost a brother and the other'd lost his identity. The meetings weren't planned; Fred didn't like to think that he would willingly meet up with Draco Malfoy for coffee every Friday. It was purely an accident of Fate when they would find themselves at the out of the way Muggle coffee shop together. It was only polite to sit together and if one was sitting with another person, manners insisted that they converse.
That first week, Fred had baited Malfoy, had cast slurs on the whole family, insane blighters that they were. Had to be what with that crazy bitch, Bellatrix and Lucius of the now-I-serve-now-I-don't-and-hey-I'm-serving-again-don't-I-look-great-in-Azkaban. Fred'd always thought there was something wrong with Narcissa as well, no one was ever that quiet and rigid.
Malfoy was definitely one of them. After all, why the bloody hell would Malfoy be sitting in a Muggle coffee shop, let alone with one of the blokes that had enjoyed battering his face? Fred had to admit that he still enjoyed the memory of ramming his fist into Malfoy's smirking face. It'd been worth all those hours with Umbridge and Filch. Even more, the stupid sodding little ferret had deserved it.
"Bunch of nutters, aren't you, Malfoy?" It was a non-sequitur into their conversation about Sartre and his philosophy of society and consciousness. Fred's light conversational tone didn't take the bite from the meaning, not as far as Fred was concerned.
"Why's that?" Malfoy toyed with the spoon sitting so close to his coffee, straightening it on the napkin and lining it up just so.
"Why you here every sodding week?" They hadn't been confrontational since the fourth week. Considering that Fred'd lost count of how many weeks they'd been meeting (sixty seven), it felt odd.
"It's not for the current conversation." Malfoy's condescending tone grated as he picked up the spoon. As he stirred his coffee, the metal barely tapped against the ceramic. Finally, as the silence dragged on, Fred laughed and sipped his own coffee.
A quick grin, so fast that Fred wasn't sure that he'd seen it or not, flashed on Malfoy's face before Fred caught Malfoy's hands setting the spoon down carefully, lining it up just so on the napkin. He wondered about those hands, what they did when they weren't here holding a coffee cup, how they dealt with the idea that they were dead to the world they'd grown up in.
Fred and Draco didn't talk of life or families, certainly didn't discuss their shared and unshared pasts. They spoke of inconsequential things, philosophers and artists, the meaning of life and the meaning of the face inscribed on a coin.
After they'd shared a coffee, they'd wander outside, to the alley behind the shop and they'd Apparate to Malfoy's place where hands would grasp, sometimes frantic and sometimes languid. Skin would slide against skin and Fred would bite his tongue and clench his jaw to hold back the wrong name. Malfoy'd do the same though there were times, as fingers traced lips and hands cupped jaws, that neither could avoid breathing out the wrong name in a sort of prayer.
Afterwards, Fred'd dress and Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron where he'd call a greeting to Tom, still barman after all the turmoil and fighting, before making his way to his empty flat and the cheerful store underneath.
It was always an accident of Fate that they'd meet. Fred couldn't predict that he'd end up at a Muggle coffee shop on the other side of London every Friday at two thirty. He certainly had no way of predicting that Malfoy would be there as well.
As he went to take another sip, Fred was shocked to discover that the coffee was gone. When he saw Malfoy smirking over the rim of his cup, Fred sat the mug down and touched Malfoy's spoon, upsetting its placement. They exchanged glares before standing and walking out of the shop.
Their shoulders brushed as they walked into the alley.
