Hello!

So this is a brand new story. I wrote it a few months ago. It was originally supposed to be just a one-shot, but after it was finished I realized it seemed very unfinished. So I wrote a second part, which Ièll post as another chapter!

Anyway, have a nice summer read with a side of some iced tea :)

Oh and leave a review or two, pretty please?

Cold Feet Confessions

The voice in the back of his head is telling him that this is the last place he should be. But he has to know. "I need you, Granger. I need you to tell me what to do. Do I marry her?" "I can't tell you what to do, Draco." "Then...tell me what you want me to do."

X

He doesn't remember how he got here. Nor does he remember how he found himself lying on the crimson carpet in the middle of a living room that doesn't belong him, staring up at the ceiling in utter silence and wishing – for once – that someone would fill it. He reckons he walked though, because surely he couldn't have apparated; he was far too drunk for that.

He looks sideways, his sobered gaze landing on locks of curly brown hair, creamy white skin and pink plump lips. It's a little thing they do, him and Granger, something they've done since becoming friends years ago; they lay side-by-side on the floor, their heads placed directly beside one another with their bodies sprawled in the opposite direction. He doesn't remember how it started, but it belongs to them and so he's never done it with anyone else. His fiancé doesn't understand and he doesn't bother to explain it.

He turns his head, looking back up at the white-washed ceiling with his hands folded across his chest.
He shouldn't be here. Not tonight. Not after everything that's happened. And most certainly not when he's half in the bag. In fact the little voice in the back of his head is telling him that this is the exact last place on Earth he should be. [But then, he's never really cared much for the little voice. For the little voice often took on the thoughts and personality of his father and, well...] He knowshe shouldn't be here. He should be at his bachelor party, enjoying the last few hours of "freedom" before he ties himself to his future wife for the rest of his life. He should be taking shots of fire whiskey and tequila and getting lap dances paid for him by his best man. Hell, he should even be sneaking into his fiancé's bedroom and persuading her to have one more un-wed romp with him for old time's sake.

Mostly, he should be anywhere in the world but here, especially on the eve of his wedding.

He wonders what's going through her mind right now. What she's thinking, how she's feeling. She does, after all, have opinions about everything. And he knows, more than anyone, how she feels about his fiancé.

He looks sideways at her again to find her looking back. They stare at one another, silently, for a moment before he smiles weakly. She smiles back, but it stops at the corners of her lips; it doesn't sparkle in her eyes like it's supposed to.

"You didn't go to Astoria's bachelorette party," he acknowledges casually. He's glad, nevertheless, that she didn't go because otherwise she wouldn't be here for him right now.

"You didn't go to your own bachelor party," she retorts.

He smirks, looking up at the ceiling. "I went, I just didn't stay."

"What, the lap dances weren't good enough?" she teases playfully.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. The truth is he hadn't been into the whole getting sloshed and getting lap dances thing; which he's sure he'll probably regret later in life. The entire time he'd been out, he'd been wondering when it would all end. He wanted nothing more than to just come here, and lie with his best girl friend and pretend he didn't want to run away and throw up at the same time. Blaise had joked about him having cold feet. Now he's beginning to wonder if his best man was right.

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asks her suddenly, his voice so low he hardly even hears it.

"What do you mean?" she asks softly, looking up at the ceiling.

He looks at her once more, propping himself up on his elbow and turning on his side to look at her properly. She's making a point of avoiding his gaze. "Marrying her..."

She hesitates, the stiffness in her body showing her discomfort. "I think that if it feels right, then yes."

"What if I don't know what feels right?"

"What doesn't feel right?"

He sighs heavily, flopping back with a soft thud against the carpet. "I dunno."

He thought he'd known. Hence asking the younger Greengrass sister, a Ravenclaw witch with a brilliant mind and beautiful personality – and his girlfriend of two years, to marry him two months ago. And up until approximately five hours ago, he thought he'd been doing the right thing. He'd been getting ready for his bachelor party, trying to tie the tie around his neck by hand rather than using magic because Granger has chastised him so many times about being lazy when it felt like he'd hit a wall. A giant, glass wall that allowed him to look into the life he would have in less than 24 hours from the outside. And somehow everything had looked wrong. Instead of Astoria walking down the aisle he'd pictured someone else. Instead of Astoria bearing him children with straight brown hair and blue eyes he'd imagined curly haired children with brown eyes like their mother's. Instead of a perfect, happy marriage without any issues he saw one full of heated debates and friendly insults and passionate lectures.

Granger's voice pulls him out of his thoughts: "Do you have cold feet?"

He would laugh if he wasn't so bloody terrified. He might as well be standing on a sheet of ice; which he'd rather not have to do ever again because despite her encouragements, it is definitely not "perfectly safe."

"If that's what this is, then yeah," he mutters.

She doesn't reply.

He wants to tell her why. He wants to tell her why he's having second thoughts about his impending future and yet at the same time he wants to bury it. He pushes himself into a sitting position, bending his legs and resting his elbows on his knees, glancing sideways at her as he does so. "I need you, Granger. I need you to tell me what to do. Do I marry her?" he asks, his voice soft and desperate.

"I can't tell you what to do, Draco."

"Then tell me what you want me to do," he pleads.

"I think you should figure out why you're having cold feet in the first place," she replies.

"I think we both know why I'm having cold feet," he retorts.

She gasps softly, so much so that he barely hears it.

He watches her intently, willing her to look at him. He stares at her back as she pushes herself into a sitting position as well, pulling her legs up to her chest. She wraps her right arm around her knees and runs her left hand through her messy hair, resting her elbow on the top of her knee. "It was a mistake," she whispers.

"It wasn't a mistake," he protests softly, but firmly.

She shakes her head, pushing herself to her feet before wrapping her arms around her torso protectively. "Draco..."

He sighs, looking down at the carpet beneath him. She's in denial; she's been in denial for over two years. He remembers, as he's sure she does as well, waking up that morning like it was yesterday. They'd been drunk – but not that drunk – the night before, she'd been upset because her boyfriend had broken up with her that morning and he'd been angry (and his knuckles had been sore) for the very same reason. He doesn't remember anything between kissing her in the middle of the dance floor and waking up the following morning with his face buried in her hair and his naked body curled around hers. She'd woken up in a panic, and out of habit (more than anything) he'd agreed with her never to speak of it again. But he'd thought about it – a lot. And he continued to think about it for weeks before meeting and courting Astoria Greengrass.

She's avoiding him, he realizes. Just as he she's always done, her back to him and her gaze shifting and landing on everything in the room except for him.

And for the first time in years, he's angry with her. He jumps to his feet suddenly, stalking towards her. "You can't keep ignoring it, Granger."

"And why not?" she asks him seriously, lifting her gaze to his. Her eyes are wet with tears of anger, sadness and fear. "It's worked so far, hasn't it? I mean, you're getting married tomorrow. Remember," she points out bitterly.

He narrows his glare into slits. "Don't you dare blame it on me," he snaps. "You're the one who never wanted to speak of it again-"

"-you agreed-"

"-because I can't win with you!" he shouts defensively. "I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to talk to you so badly."

She blinks, sniffing back tears as she steps away from him. "Yeah, well, there's no point now."

"I'm not married yet, Granger. It's not too late."

"It was too late two years ago, Draco," she whispers. "Besides, you're happy. And I know you love her – you can't throw it away just because-"

"-I'm in love with you?" he finishes.

"Don't say that. What's done is done."

"It never even began! You never gave us a chance!" he shouts. He reaches for her, curling his right arm around her waist and pulling her forward until she's flush against him. She looks at him, eyes wide with curiosity and fear. "Tell me what you want," he begs.

"I can't-"

"Why not?"

"Because, Draco! I don't want you to throw away your relationship with her just because you're scared," she tells him level-headed.

"What, the way you did?"

"Yes," she whispers sadly, looking down at the non-existent space between them.

He uses his free hand, placing his index finger under her chin, to tilt her face up to look at him. "Tell me what you want me to do, Granger," he whispers again. "I'll leave her. I'll run away with you, right now if you want me to. I just need you to tell me you want me to."

She doesn't say it, but he can see it in her eyes. He can see it written all over her face. It's like a weight's been lifted off of his shoulders, allowing him to breath evenly once more. And suddenly he knowsexactly where he is and where he's going and who he's going there with. He isn't afraid. He isn't uncertain or confused. He's quite the opposite, in fact. [His feet are warm now.]

"Can I sleep here?" he asks softly.

She nods, allowing him to guide her down the hall to her own bedroom.

He'll deal with everything else tomorrow.