My Worst Fear
A songfic by Risu

Author's Note: I've been writing a lot of songfics lately, haven't I? I've had Writer's Block since about January (…of 2003), and the only things that I've been able to produce are songfics. sigh

Disclaimer: I own nothing. (Believe me, if I owned the Harry Potter fandom, Book 5 would have been 870 pages of Harry/Draco songfest.) I don't own the song (My Worst Fear by Rascal Flatts – download it!); Rascal Flatts and Lyric Street Records have that honor. Yep.

He had been pondering it for ages, but never went through with it. He wasn't sure why he hadn't… Maybe he was just used to what was there; change would upset the balance that he had set.
But he had begun to realize that there was no balance. It had all just fallen apart for Draco. There was no meaning left. When he looked at Harry, all he saw was a man with glasses. It was like they were complete strangers being forced to live together.
Draco had been hesitating to leave, because he hoped that these feelings (or, rather, lack thereof) wouldn't last long, that they would pass and it would just be an odd memory. After about two months, that hope disappeared. He knew something had to be done.
Draco looked up from his mug of coffee, which was all he ever consumed these days. Harry was sitting on the other side of the circular table, eating a slice of leftover pizza and reading the Daily Prophet. Draco watched him for a few minutes in silence, until Harry sensed his gaze.
Blushing as he looked up, Harry asked, "Can I help you?"
Draco didn't answer; he simply looked back down at his half-empty coffee mug. Harry sighed and set his pizza down on his newspaper. Grease leaked onto the paper and stained Cornelius Fudge's robes. He instantly gasped and hid in the edge of the picture, glaring up at the culprit from around the corner.
"Draco," Harry sighed, "we need to talk."
Draco looked up.
"I don't want to talk," he muttered quietly. He stood up, his coffee forgotten. "I'm going to bed."
"Draco…"
"Good night, Harry."
Draco tossed his robes and shirt in the corner and flopped onto his side of the bed, but didn't bother to get under the covers. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
This can't go on…

Last night you gave me a kiss
You didn't know it, but I was awake when you did
You were quiet, you were gonna let me sleep
So I just laid there, pretending to be

He heard footsteps down the hall, and he immediately shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Harry entered the room, but paused and leaned against the doorframe, unmoving. Draco heard Harry murmur affectionately, "Asleep already…" The dark-haired man removed his robes and shirt, just as Draco had, and lay down on the bed. Draco's eyes remained shut as Harry leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his pale lips. Harry leaned back onto his pillow, but turned onto his side to face the blonde and propped himself up on his elbow.
"Draco…" he whispered. "I love you so much…" Harry toyed gently with a loose strand of Draco's hair, which he styled exactly the same way as he had in school. "I don't know what I would do without you. I love you," he repeated.
Harry sidled up to Draco and wrapped one arm around the Slytherin's waist. When Draco was positive that Harry was asleep, he opened his eyes again. He looked down at the arm draped across his bare midriff. Harry's skin, from wrist to shoulder, was covered in scars from various near-fatal incidents… was Draco about to provide him with another?

You said some things that you
Didn't know I could hear
And the words "I love you"
Never sounded so sincere

Draco remained awake nearly the whole night, staring at the ceiling. He lay there in Harry's arms, listening to his breathing. So peaceful… and unassuming…
How could he do something like this to the one person in the world who loved him? Harry had poured everything into their relationship. All Draco had managed to do was draw further and further away, ever since Day One.
But he had his own happiness to think about, he justified silently. Harry's touch no longer sent electricity up his spine; Harry's kisses no longer left his lips tingling. It all just felt like a robotic obligation.
Draco looked at the sleeping brunette beside him.
Tomorrow, he promised silently. Tomorrow holds such better days…

It's gonna make it hard
To tell you that I'm leaving
Now that I know just how much you care
You finally gave me one good reason not to go
Staying here is my worst fear

Draco fell asleep then, but only slept for an hour. When he finally awoke, Harry was not next to him. His clothes were no longer on the floor, either. Draco slid out of bed and went into the hallway.
"Harry?" he called. "Harry?"
No response.
"…Harry?" he shouted. His pace quickened as he started for the kitchen. It was empty, except for their coffee and pizza from the night before, still sitting on the kitchen table. "Harry?!"
He searched the living room, the spare bedroom, the bathroom…

This morning, I rolled out of bed
Recalling all the sweet things you said
This was the day I was gonna hurt you bad
I called out your name, but you didn't answer back

"Harry, where are you?" he wondered aloud, genuinely worried. Draco wandered back into the kitchen and took his usual seat. He took a sip of last night's latte, not caring if it was stone cold. That was when he noticed something he hadn't before.
A note, slipping underneath Draco's mug to keep from blowing away. He instantly recognized Harry's untidy scrawl, in his trademark scarlet ink. The note contained six words and a signature, but nothing more.

I love you. Never forget that. – Harry

Draco's mug slipped out of his hand. It clattered to the ground and instantly shattered upon contact, sending bits of ceramic skating across the tile floor. Ice cold coffee sprayed everywhere, but he didn't seem to notice.
"…he's gone…" he whispered.

I searched the house
To find out what was wrong
Like a ton of bricks
It hit me, you were gone

Why did he care? Wasn't he thinking, last night, of doing the same exact thing? So why did he have a strange crushed feeling in his chest?
Leaving the broken cup on the floor, Draco disappeared into his room and slipped on the shirt he had been wearing the day before. Throwing on a pair of clean robes and dropping a bag of Sickles into his pocket, he left the house. He didn't know where he was going; he only knew he had to get away from that house, at least for today.
"Stupid irony," Draco muttered, kicking at an empty butterbeer bottle.
He could still recall their first kiss, but not much else. Everything after that was just a monotonous blur.
He slumped down against a brick wall, underneath a Zonko's sign. A passing warlock tossed two or three Knuts at his feet. Draco rolled his eyes as he gathered up the money and tossed it back at the warlock. "I don't need your charity," he snapped. The man blinked, genuinely confused, as he rubbed the spot on his head where one of the Knuts had hit him. "I don't need anyone…"

It's gonna make it hard
To tell you that I'm leaving
Now that I know just how much you care
You finally gave me one good reason not to go
Staying here is my worst fear

"You are such a pansy, Malfoy."
"No, my girlfriend is Pansy." Draco smirked.
Harry rolled his eyes. Oh, how Draco enjoyed this.
It was mid-day, and they were both on their way back inside after a Care of Magical Creatures lesson. It was bright and sunny, and the sixteen-year-old wizards were having yet another insult war. Ron and Hermione had already gone inside to the common room, and Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found.
After several rounds of cheap shots, particularly on Malfoy's part, they both fell silent. As if on cue, it began to rain, just a light drizzle, but enough to have them soaked within minutes. Water dripped off the ends of Harry's untidy black hair.
One moment they were staring at each other; the next, Draco felt pressure and warmth on his lips. He blinked and realized that Harry was kissing him. Kissing him.
After a few seconds, Harry pulled away. Draco stared at him in a mixture of shock and some other feeling he wouldn't quite identify.
"W-what the hell…" he began. Harry didn't answer; the Gryffindor just turned and headed back towards the castle. "…did I do to deserve that…" Draco finished.
Twenty-three-year-old Draco shook himself out of his daydream, finding himself still sitting in that Hogsmeade alley. He touched his lips, which had begun to tingle from the memory of the first time they had met Harry's.

All along I knew that there was something missing
And only one thing left to do
I had to leave the life that we'd be living
But the only thing that left was you

Draco stood up before any more people threw money at him and shuffled back home.
Home to an empty house, he sighed to himself.
When he arrived, he went straight to bed and stared at the ceiling for hours, just as he had done the night before.
"This isn't like me," he said aloud. "What happened to the Draco Malfoy that would use things like this to his advantage?"
That Draco Malfoy died the first time he allowed Harry Potter to make him melt, the little voice in the back of his head reminded him.
"Shut up, voice," he muttered.
Shutting up.
 Sighing, Draco rolled out of bed again and shuffled into the kitchen. The shattered cup of coffee was still there, waiting patiently to be cleaned up. He stared at it for a moment before sending the debris into the trash can with a swift flick of his wand. Now that the kitchen floor was clear of broken ceramic and puddles of cold coffee, Draco ambled over to the counter and brewed himself a fresh cup. He sat down at his usual spot at the kitchen table, cupping the hot mug of coffee between his hands, but suddenly he didn't want it anymore. He stared down into his drink. His reflection, with tired eyes and a pale complexion stared back at him.
He pushed the mug away slowly, careful not to let any of the hot coffee slosh over the sides, and stared straight ahead. Harry usually sat there, in the empty chair right across the table. He would munch on leftover food from last night's makeshift meal or sip at a glass of milk while reading the Daily Prophet. Every now and then he would look up to see Draco staring at him, only to blush and look back down at his newspaper again.
The blonde-haired young man brought his legs up and hugged his knees to his chest, and finally allowed himself to do something he hadn't done in years…

Draco cried.

Staying here is my worst fear...