Fic: Socks (H/D)
Dec. 8th, 2006 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wook77Title: Socks
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wook77
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 822
Rating: G
Summary: One man's rubbish is another man's treasured memory.
A/N: Day 7 of the fic Advent Calendar. Fordrusillas_rain's prompt of socks with a holiday theme. I fail at titles, sorry.
In hindsight, it was probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done. In his defence, they'd looked like any other pair of socks, if a bit more ragged and worn. Really, he was doing Potter a favour by getting rid of them. The new socks were much higher quality and warmer what with his toes and heels not sticking out to touch the cold wood of the floor.
There was no way he was going to dig through the rubbish just to find those blasted socks. He had his pride; the Malfoy name might not mean much in this post-Voldemort world but it had at one point and it would again. Draco was not going to sully it by digging through rubbish when there were photographers such as Creevey just waiting for him to do something embarrassing.
Instead, he'd sent Dobby out to search for the damnable socks. The House-Elf would do anything if it meant making Harry happy, even listen to a request (not an order as Harry had been very firm on that point) from Draco. Pulling the curtain aside, Draco watched as Dobby looked at a discarded flannel before putting it to the side.
He let the curtain drift closed before he started to pace once more. He wasn't even sure why he was having Dobby look for the bloody things. If Harry had only told him that they were the last gift from Molly Weasley and her infamous knitting needles, this wouldn't have happened. Instead, Harry had kept the knowledge to himself and now Draco was being forced to rely on a House-Elf to appease Harry.
It wasn't that Harry had asked him to retrieve the socks. No, he wouldn’t do that. Instead, he'd looked crestfallen and had mumbled a, "that's fine, Draco," before making his way back to the bedroom and curling up in the bed. He hadn't understood just what was so important about those socks, not until the next morning when Harry wouldn't get out of bed even though Granger and her Weasel had stopped by. The lecture burned at his pride, that Weasley had felt free to condescend to him, knew more than he and refused to share that knowledge.
They'd gone into the bedroom and shut the door, effectively shutting Draco out of the closeness that the group shared. He knew that he was an outsider but they hadn't needed to shut the door the way they had. He deserved to know what was being discussed. It was, after all, his bedroom too. That was his justification to listening to their discussion through magical means, hearing them soothe Harry, comfort him with stories of Molly, her knitting needles and her boisterous familiarity.
Before he could think, he had Dobby out searching the rubbish bin and he was pacing while their words echoed in his head. Saint Molly and her jumpers, those awful ill-fitting jumpers that Harry had bundled up in a box in the back of their closet, it all added to the ire swirling in his gut. The door's creak interrupted his mental tirade as Granger and Weasley walked out. Granger's sad look added to his guilt.
He shook his head, he wasn't feeling guilty. They were a disgustingly ratty pair of socks and it was Potter's fault that he hadn't known any of the significance of them. After all, he'd told Potter about his set of cufflinks, even now stored in the drawer of the bedside table. He couldn't count the number of times he'd pulled them out and held them in his hands, brushed a finger down their gleaming surface and thought of his mum. Harry'd sat next to him, touching his back or holding his arm as he'd done it.
It was with this righteous ire that Draco marched into the bedroom and shut the door firmly. "We're going to have a talk, Potter."
There was no reaction from the lump of blankets that Draco assumed was Harry. The lack of reaction continued even as Draco sat next to the lump and rested his hand on what felt like Harry's hip. "Is there a reason I didn't deserve to know about those socks, Potter?"
Was that a grunt? Draco grabbed a handful of blankets and flipped them back; revealing Harry curled in on himself.
"I'm not going to ask again," Draco said quietly.
"Molly made 'em, last Christmas she was a...alive. Made some for everyone, smell like hot chocolate and butterbeer and Christmas," Harry mumbled and stuttered as his voice cracked.
"That wasn't very hard, now was it?" For all the harshness of his tone and his words, Draco's hands were gentle as they rubbed small circles on Harry's back or pushed his hair from his forehead.
Dobby would find the socks and they'd be back to as normal as they got. Until then, Draco curled up against Harry's back and twined their hands together against Harry's stomach.
As always, I'd love to hear what you think. Concrit welcomed!
Author:
wook77Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 822
Rating: G
Summary: One man's rubbish is another man's treasured memory.
A/N: Day 7 of the fic Advent Calendar. For
drusillas_rain's prompt of socks with a holiday theme. I fail at titles, sorry.In hindsight, it was probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done. In his defence, they'd looked like any other pair of socks, if a bit more ragged and worn. Really, he was doing Potter a favour by getting rid of them. The new socks were much higher quality and warmer what with his toes and heels not sticking out to touch the cold wood of the floor.
There was no way he was going to dig through the rubbish just to find those blasted socks. He had his pride; the Malfoy name might not mean much in this post-Voldemort world but it had at one point and it would again. Draco was not going to sully it by digging through rubbish when there were photographers such as Creevey just waiting for him to do something embarrassing.
Instead, he'd sent Dobby out to search for the damnable socks. The House-Elf would do anything if it meant making Harry happy, even listen to a request (not an order as Harry had been very firm on that point) from Draco. Pulling the curtain aside, Draco watched as Dobby looked at a discarded flannel before putting it to the side.
He let the curtain drift closed before he started to pace once more. He wasn't even sure why he was having Dobby look for the bloody things. If Harry had only told him that they were the last gift from Molly Weasley and her infamous knitting needles, this wouldn't have happened. Instead, Harry had kept the knowledge to himself and now Draco was being forced to rely on a House-Elf to appease Harry.
It wasn't that Harry had asked him to retrieve the socks. No, he wouldn’t do that. Instead, he'd looked crestfallen and had mumbled a, "that's fine, Draco," before making his way back to the bedroom and curling up in the bed. He hadn't understood just what was so important about those socks, not until the next morning when Harry wouldn't get out of bed even though Granger and her Weasel had stopped by. The lecture burned at his pride, that Weasley had felt free to condescend to him, knew more than he and refused to share that knowledge.
They'd gone into the bedroom and shut the door, effectively shutting Draco out of the closeness that the group shared. He knew that he was an outsider but they hadn't needed to shut the door the way they had. He deserved to know what was being discussed. It was, after all, his bedroom too. That was his justification to listening to their discussion through magical means, hearing them soothe Harry, comfort him with stories of Molly, her knitting needles and her boisterous familiarity.
Before he could think, he had Dobby out searching the rubbish bin and he was pacing while their words echoed in his head. Saint Molly and her jumpers, those awful ill-fitting jumpers that Harry had bundled up in a box in the back of their closet, it all added to the ire swirling in his gut. The door's creak interrupted his mental tirade as Granger and Weasley walked out. Granger's sad look added to his guilt.
He shook his head, he wasn't feeling guilty. They were a disgustingly ratty pair of socks and it was Potter's fault that he hadn't known any of the significance of them. After all, he'd told Potter about his set of cufflinks, even now stored in the drawer of the bedside table. He couldn't count the number of times he'd pulled them out and held them in his hands, brushed a finger down their gleaming surface and thought of his mum. Harry'd sat next to him, touching his back or holding his arm as he'd done it.
It was with this righteous ire that Draco marched into the bedroom and shut the door firmly. "We're going to have a talk, Potter."
There was no reaction from the lump of blankets that Draco assumed was Harry. The lack of reaction continued even as Draco sat next to the lump and rested his hand on what felt like Harry's hip. "Is there a reason I didn't deserve to know about those socks, Potter?"
Was that a grunt? Draco grabbed a handful of blankets and flipped them back; revealing Harry curled in on himself.
"I'm not going to ask again," Draco said quietly.
"Molly made 'em, last Christmas she was a...alive. Made some for everyone, smell like hot chocolate and butterbeer and Christmas," Harry mumbled and stuttered as his voice cracked.
"That wasn't very hard, now was it?" For all the harshness of his tone and his words, Draco's hands were gentle as they rubbed small circles on Harry's back or pushed his hair from his forehead.
Dobby would find the socks and they'd be back to as normal as they got. Until then, Draco curled up against Harry's back and twined their hands together against Harry's stomach.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:40 pm (UTC)I'm glad!!!! I've not been very Christmassy lately so it's nice to slide into that mood.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:18 pm (UTC)My brain is messed up
^^;but I liked this! Love you!no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:41 pm (UTC)I saw that
no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:49 pm (UTC)Saw what? I didn't do anything!
no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:18 pm (UTC)Draco's hurt at being left out is so palpable here. I hope to heaven Dobby finds those socks.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 07:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 03:44 am (UTC)I just wish I could've done something with actual holiday socks instead of socks in a holiday theme...
no subject
Date: 2006-12-08 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 12:17 am (UTC)All the emotions are really well written.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 03:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 03:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-09 09:59 pm (UTC)*sniffles*
no subject
Date: 2006-12-10 08:03 am (UTC)