I Can't Take It!
“I can’t bloody take it anymore!” Were the words screamed in Draco’s face as he opened the door. He blinked rapidly at the fuming redhead in front of him. Weasley. That was someone he hadn’t seen in years, not since the final battle.
“Excuse you?” Draco reprimanded with an arched brow. He honestly had no idea what was happening here. He must have mixed up his ingredients when making his potion this morning, causing a severe hallucination. Because that was the only explanation his mind could come up with at the moment.
“At first, I thought I was just delusional, seeing things where there was nothing but I know I’m not.”
Draco blinked rapidly as he too concluded the man was delusional. Something he had always known to be true.
“You keep writing books about Harry!”
Every rational thought left the blonde as dread filled his stomach. There was no way that Weasley had figured it out. His mother was blissfully unaware of who his muse was, his friends were just as clueless, all wondering who could possibly be the one he was desperately pining after. The whole world was blind but yet Weasley had discovered his secret?
“Don’t give me that look!” Weasley spat hotly. “It’s just so obvious. I don’t understand why no one but me thinks so! I see your stupid books everywhere. Witches giggle in their offices at work, completely engrossed in your horribly sappy novels.” A pause as a freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.
“I can’t go into Diagon Alley without seeing your ugly face plastered from every window, advertising this travesty.”
Ugly? Draco huffed angrily as he listened somewhat impatiently to the hogwash spewing out of Weasley’s mouth.
“My own wife reads them and badgers me incessantly about reading them too!”
That had Draco wincing, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger reading his works. It was a little uncomfortable, if he was being honest.
“I can’t even go to my parents without seeing your entire collection stacked against the wall. My mother reads them!” A pitiful moan escaped. “My own mum!”
A trickle of amusement was making its way inside of Draco. Oh, he was still annoyed and ticked off but seeing Weasley in so much distress because of him, was lifting his spirits.
“I have put up with this for years and I can’t take it anymore!” Weasley took a step forward, which Draco was loath to admit made him want to take a step back. The man was clearly mental.
“You have to tell Harry how you feel.” Begged the disturbed wanker. “I can’t take another novel. I can’t take the pining! I can’t take the whining! I can’t take another fucking thing! If I have to listen to one more person tell me how ‘wonderfully heartbreaking’ your stories are, I will either murder you, Harry or myself.” A pause. “And I can’t honestly tell you which one of us is at the forefront of that. Perhaps I will kill us all and be done with it.”
Threats weren’t something new to Draco but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end of one done so vehemently.
“I’m an Auror.” Weasley unnecessarily reminded him, as if he hadn’t been aware of this. “I know how to murder someone and make it appear as an accident. They’ll never find your body.” The sheer conviction in the promise was almost staggering.
Draco rolled his eyes as he looked to the sky, debating about hexing the crazy redhead.
“Are you finished?” He drawled with an exaggerated yawn, hoping to get rid of Weasley.
Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what is the worst part of all of this?”
The question was obviously rhetorical but Draco shook his head anyways, hoping this would be the last thing said on the topic.
“Harry loves your books.”
Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he swallowed heavily and looked away from Weasley for the first time.
“He talks about them constantly, mentions his favorite parts, grins goofily as he reads your novels in public. Every single book is handled with care and patience. He adores them and you by extension.”
Words had long ago left Draco, he didn’t know what to say at all. Couldn’t think of anything. For someone who made a living off of words and formulating beautiful lines, this was almost embarrassing.
“I don’t like you.” Weasley continued on. “Never have and might not ever will.”
Again, Draco rolled his eyes. The feeling was entirely mutual.
“But.” The man whispered softly. “It’s painfully obvious that you love Harry.” Blue eyes searched his and Draco felt as if his blackened soul was being judged.
“The things you write deserve to be said not just written. Harry deserves this, deserves this kind of attention and deserves the love you put into those stupid pages.” There was a slight reddening of Weasley’s cheeks. It was obvious he despised complimenting Draco on his books.
“Just do something. Please. While I can’t take another one of your books, I really can’t take Harry’s self-deprecating responses as to why it just isn’t possible that he is the target of your obsession.”
He would have liked to rudely point out that it wasn’t an obsession but he was distracted with the rest of the statement.
Weasley took a deep sigh. “Just think about it.” As violently as the conversation began, it ended with a soft whisper and pleading eyes.
Draco watched Weasley walk slowly away from his front door, so slowly that it was obvious he was hoping to be called back.
This was life changing. He could slam the door and pretend that this whole disaster had been a hallucination and never think about it again… or he could take a Gryffindor plunge into bravery and do what the characters in his books do, which was get their man.
“Weasley!” Draco called out, making his decision. “Get your horrid arse back here.”
The way red brows arched, silently asking for more, had Draco huffing. Who knew the man was a sadist too?
“Help me ensnare a Gryffindor.“
A frighteningly wicked grin appeared on the redhead’s face, causing Draco to question if he had just sold away his soul to a starving Dementor. Merlin, help him.
If you are interested in the rest of the story, part two and three are finished. Or if you would like to just skip ahead to the completed story, here you go.