There were things in life that were simple. Not easy, per say, but things that just came naturally, without much thought. For Harry, there was Quidditch. There was gardening, a small reminder of his childhood, yet something he refused to let be tainted by negative memories. There was making tea, Harry was very good at that. Then there was not feeling.
Harry excelled at that. After all the stress, all the fighting, the battles, the funerals, the trials. He didn't even have to try, it just happened. It's like his brain was on, forcing his body to move, his mouth to speak, his heart to beat, but he couldn't feel anything any longer. And it was so simple.
But Harry was not doing any of those things. He was looking at the sister of his best friend and his girlfriend of a year and a half, and telling her he didn't think he could be with her anymore. This was definitely much harder.
"YOU DON'T JUST STOP LOVING SOMEONE HARRY! I HAVE BEEN WITH YOU THROUGH HELL, AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO ACT LIKE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT WAS LIKE?! I FOUGHT IN THE BATTLE, I WAS THE ONE IN SCHOOL WHILE YOU HERMIONE AND RON WERE FROLICKING IN THE FORESTS LOOKING FOR PIECES OF A DERANGED MADMANS SOUL! ME! I KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE." Ginny bellowed, her face nearly the color of her hair. She looked at the empty expression on Harry's face, and seemed to calm down a bit. "We both lost people. I lost my brother Harry, you couldn't possibly say that I don't know what it's like."
Harry looked at her, in all of her wild beauty, but it just no longer touched him like it used to do. Nothing did anymore. He was nothing more than a husk of a person, trying to find his way in the world.
"The fact that you are even trying to say that you know what I am going through does nothing more than prove to me that you really have no idea. I would dare you to find someone that hasn't lost someone during Voldemort's reign of terror," he received a wince at the blatant use of His name. "So using that argument is pretty counterproductive. Besides, do you really think my hunt for Horacrux's was simply frolicking in the woods with my two best mates?"
"No, it entailed much more filthy details, like your torrid love affair with your 'supposed' best friend! Don't look so shocked. You think anyone is stupid enough to believe that you and Hermione just talked and ate biscuits after Ron left. The way you look at each other is enough proof, so no use in denying it, Potter." She spit his name out like it was toxic, and for the first time in quiet awhile, Harry felt anger brew within him.
"You don't know anything. You don't know what it was like in those forests, hungry, scared, and clueless. You don't know how hard it was to hold onto sanity when you felt constant fear of being caught and tormented in ways that could make you cry just by hearing. You don't know what it was like living with pure evil around your neck. Hermione was all I had, and we never were anything more than friends, but I would do anything for her. You have no clue, so I would recommend shutting the hell up. We are over. We have been done since after the war. Too much has changed and we are two different people who both need to find identities for themselves before they even consider getting into a relationship. We both need to heal, Gin, and not even you can argue me on that one. The way you see me, it's not real. You have this picture of how I am, of who I am, and it's just that; a picture. All you are seeing is that story told to you as a little girl about how I defeated Voldemort as a small child, only to resurface from nowhere 10 years later, humble, but ready to defeat the Dark Lord all over again. And even though you know me more as a person, that still taints your view of me. Look at me." Harry insisted, lifting her chin to see the blotchy face, streaked with tears, and trembling lips. "Any man will be lucky to have you. That person just isn't me. I'll always love you, Gin, but not like that. I hope one day you can forgive me for that."
Her hand across his face wasn't a shock.
"Fuck you, Harry Potter. Get off your high FUCKING HORSE. You say everyone has lost someone, but I think out of everyone, you lost the least! You didn't even fucking KNOW your parents! Ever since Cedric died, you have just been throwing this 'I have experienced more than you' attitude around, and I'm sick of it. Everyone else is dealing with things, and everyone else is moving on but you are just stuck here, lost in your own pity party. I hope to god you finally see the only reason you aren't healing; you are just trying to get as much pity as possible. You make me sick, Harry, and I never want to see you again." She screamed at him.
He was glad in this moment that that emptiness had settled in his chest again, and those words, cruel words they were, didn't make his heart clench like they should have. Glad because this was much easier than the truth, and no one would argue that with him.
She stormed out of his house, leaving it dreary and grey as it had been before. Harry watched the door, knowing that he should be feeling something, but finding nothing. He eventually turned, his movements slow, and he let the glamor's slip away, revealing what he had become. Revealing who he had become.
"This is for the best." He said to himself as he took in his reflection. "No one will love you like this."
And so the raven haired boy turned, and without another sound, disappeared further into the house.
/
Harry had known that this wouldn't be pretty. He knew that the second he showed up at the train station, he would deal with the wrath of the Weasleys. You couldn't break their only daughter's heart without some form of wrath.
Harry just learned that Ginny must have learned where to hit from Ron.
His best friend's fist flew towards his face, and he knew he would have no problems using magic to avoid impact, but somewhere inside him, he knew that Ron needed to get this out of his way before they could go on being friends.
That is if he even wanted to be his friend anymore.
"YOU FUCKING DICK! WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Ron seethed, before his father grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Most of the Weasleys were giving him 'the look.' The 'how could you' look. He had seen it from his dead classmate's parents, so one could say that he knew it pretty well. Ginny was clinging to her mother, her eyes rimmed red with sorrow and fury lining her face. Harry turned away.
Hermione reached out towards him, her eyes darting between Harry and her boyfriend, before Harry subtly shook his head. She looked dejected, but dropped her arms, and turned her focus on getting Ron to stop hurling insults Harry's way. He couldn't even hear them, he just picked himself up off the ground, wiping away the blood from his lips, and regathering his things, his mind a buzz.
That was when he felt it. Right when he had started towards the train, the Weasleys and Hermione just out of sight, he felt that tingling rush down his spine, halting any movement. He slowly, painstaking slowly turned his head.
That was when he saw him. Merlin, how beautiful he looked, his very presence demanding an audience that everyone was so willing to give him. His hair hung in loose waves around his face, bringing out the sharpness in his cheeks, making you want to brush it back from those endless grey eyes. His lips were formed in the trademark scowl, and Harry would throw himself in front of the train right in front of them just to see him smile for a single second.
His mother was fussing around him, more life in her frame then when he had last seen her at her husband's trial. She had wrote him a few days after and thanked him for testifying in favor of Lucius, earning him a shorter sentence then the rest of Voldemort's followers had gotten, and she felt as though she owed him. She didn't owe him anything. She had given birth to the most beautiful creature that Harry had ever seen. He had to stop himself from thanking her.
But the younger Malfoy didn't even spare him a glance. His mother politely smiled at him, and Harry hoped that the expression on his face wasn't displaying just how horrible he felt inside from being unacknowledged.
Harry closed his eyes, reining in those god awful emotions, and thinking of menial things until he felt the familiar sense of emptiness. It was only then that he picked up his things and found a place to sit on the train.
/
Hermione's shoulder was a comfortable weight against his. It was familiar, something he had felt thousands of times, and yet it always made him feel a little less empty.
"Something happened and you won't tell me, will you?" she whispered, her frizzy hair surprisingly soft against his cheek.
Harry just barely shook his head.
"You do a good job for the most part. Of hiding it, I mean. If I didn't know you as well as I do I would think that you were just recovering, but this is something new entirely.
He nodded.
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"Ten doesn't even begin to describe it," he whispered back, closing his eyes.
She just grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his in an attempt to comfort him.
"No matter what, you know I love you right? Doesn't matter if the Weasley's won't talk to you since you broke up with Ginny. I'll be here no matter what. We promised. Plus, I think that the relationship was doomed from the start. She had those starry eyes. Not like the cute ones, like the 'I'm dating someone more important than you.' I think everyone knew it was just a matter of time." Hermione said, matter-of-factly.
Harry snorted, "I think that was one of the reasons I was invited into the family. I think that was what they had hoped all along. I mean, everyone seemed to try to push us together as much as possible. Not that she isn't great, and funny, and beautiful and that she won't make someone so happy one day, that person just isn't me. It never was and it's better to figure that out now than be married and realize that you don't love each other like married couples are supposed to. Plus, she made this jab about how I haven't lost as much as others have, and that we were fucking behind Ron's back while we were in the forest." He gives her a playful smirk, one that doesn't meet his eyes but he knows it makes her happier. She nudges against him, giggling lightly.
"I guess most people don't understand our relationship. People don't really know what it was like going through the things we did. I think they put us on this pedestal, and they forget that we were just kids. I feel like I'm not nineteen, I feel like I'm at least a thousand." Hermione whispers.
Harry nods, and they stay like that for a majority of the train ride, both lost in completely different trains of thought. One, wondering about school and how they will survive being in a place that is riddled with memories of suffering and violence and death.
The other going through all the things he had done to never deserve the tall blonde that he wanted so badly that he physically ached.
/
Harry didn't plan on ever telling his friends about the things.
He always felt like talking about the things made them much more real, and even in his state, thinking about them made him feel queasy. It was much easier to just hate himself and let them kill him, rather than letting everyone know that he was weak.
He would die young. Oh well, Hermione would make sure that whatever story they put out wasn't the truth. She wouldn't let the world know that that piece of Voldemort's soul had become a part of him. She wouldn't let them know that when Harry died, that piece of Voldemort soul was ripped out of him, causing cracks in his magical core. She wouldn't let them know that the core had already been tainted, and now harry had taken to magically draining that would kill him.
What she would never know is that when that had happened, a cure had been made.
She would never know that his 'death' (though he did actually die, he just came back) woke up something inside him.
Harry would learn that the night after Voldemort's defeat when he came into a late creature inheritance.
That's the beautiful things about nature. For every reaction, there is an opposite reaction. It is rare for there to be no solution to a problem. To Harry's body, activating this dormant creature blood would mean Harry could find his mate.
If Harry found his mate, that meant that their magical cores would fuse, fixing the 'leak' and meaning Harry would be able to live. But after everything, Harry knew that nothing could ever be that simple in his life. And when he showed up to Draco's trial, and everything inside him was screaming to not only be with him, but submit to him, he knew he was fucked to a painful death while he watched the person who was supposed to be perfect for him marry some pureblood princess and never spare him another thought.
And god, it was one of those few things that actually hurt. That was the beauty of Draco, well, besides his physique. When he was around Draco, he was allowed to feel. Even if those feelings hurt. Even if he knew that Draco was straight and would never want him. Even if he knew the reason why he looked the way he did without his glamour's was because of him. Even if the whole situation was so fucked up it made Harry's head spin and a gut-wrenching nausea to overtake his stomach.
Harry would adore everything about him until his final breath and there was nothing he could do or say to taint that.
/
Ron's loud footsteps and his flinging of the door open are what broke Hermione and Harry out of the bubble of comfort they had made. Ron didn't even spare Harry a glance as he looked at his girlfriend with apologetic eyes.
"'Mione will you come sit with me for the rest of the trip. Everyone is asking for you." He pleaded. Harry didn't even need to glance over to see Hermione rolling her eyes.
"You punched Harry in the face, Ron, I would rather not look at you for the time being."
"He hurt Ginny! You can't honestly be taking his side this time!" Ron seethed, still trying to pretend that Harry wasn't sitting there.
"You don't think it was hard for him! He was going with what his heart wanted, you can't shame someone for that! If he wasn't happy, then that was the right decision." Hermione defended.
He didn't mention that his heart wanted to desperately lick every inch of skin on Draco Malfoy's body, he figured that would be a tad bit inappropriate, not to mention he did just break up with his best mate's sister, so he probably shouldn't go about the business of rubbing salt in fresh wounds.
"Why are you always on his side? Why Hermione? You defend him like he is innocent when he is obviously in love with you! Did you lie to me when you said there was nothing between you two after I left? Because it is really starting to seem like there was more going on."
It got silent after those words were spoken. That deadly, angry kind, and Harry was able to grab onto Hermione's elbow before she flew forward.
"You fucking left US, and you have the audacity to say that I am lying about what happened when you weren't there! You should have never left! You should have stayed, but you were too much of a fucking coward! And I'm defending Harry because he has been through more than you could ever imagine! You have lived a great life with a family who loves you, and everyone lost someone in the war, and you just pretend like your losses are worse than everyone else's! Same as Ginny! You said the same thing to Harry! He deserves to be happy! He deserves to be loved, and if she isn't the one then that is just the end of that. There is nothing more to be said. So go back and sit with your friends, I'm going to stay here until you learn to GROW THE FUCK UP Ronald Weasley. Don't bother coming back if you haven't.
It was hard thing to strike a Weasley speechless, but Hermione had managed too. His face went from bright red, to deathly white.
"'Mione please don't do this..." Ron begged, once he seemed to get a hold of himself.
"Don't. Just leave. Come back when you have some common sense." She stated firmly. He stared at her for a second, eyes wide, and his eyes darted to Harry's for the first time and he looked like he expected him to say something. He just motioned with his eyes to leave, and Ron stared at him for another second before he finally left. The second the door clicked Hermione was in tears.
"He just doesn't get it. And I want to hate him for not getting it." Hermione sobbed.
"No one ever does. No matter how close you are to them, they just can't ever seem to understand that things will never go back to the way things used to be. We have to find our new normal, not keep pretending that things are okay. Because they aren't. They never will be." Harry said, his voice hollow in a way that started Hermione out of her sadness.
"Harry…. Your secret is a bad one, isn't it?" she whispers, fear evident in her voice. He gave her a sad smile.
"They always are. Enough about that though, we need to get changed into our school robes." Harry looked at Hermione, with her watery eyes, trembling lips, and streaked cheeks. He saw how her hands were almost violently shaking. He knew that she was in no shape to do anything. He dug in her purse for her robes, taking them out and shrugging her out of her jacket.
"Come one, arms out," he said in a chirpy voice that he knew she needed to hear. He places her robes on her, adjusting her tie to be neat like she liked. He missed the red and gold that used to display his colors proudly, but there were so few back to finish their last year that they decided that they got their own dorms, solely for their grade. Harry knew it was because his grade had been some of the key players in the War. They were hesitant to place them with the rest of the school because they didn't quite think they were…functioning. That meant no more Houses for the group.
Harry agreed.
Every one of his friends had 'attacks.' I guess it wasn't so much that they had attacks, more like they relived them. And it was one of those things that just happened, no one could control it.
So yes, it might suck they were separated, but at least they weren't dead.
He bent down to the floor, taking her shoes off and putting her new ones on, just as he heard the door to the compartment open. He didn't have to turn to know who it was. Draco walked into the compartment, his eyes sweeping along Harry and what he was doing, before a sneer placed itself on his face.
"Thought you were dating the Weaslette, Granger, didn't think you had it in you to get two at once." Draco drawled, and as much as Harry wanted to tell him to bugger off, every word out of his mouth sounded like music. Harry wanted to listen to him talk for the rest of his life.
"Shut it, Malfoy. I'm in no mood to deal with your shit today." Hermione all but growled. Draco opened his beautiful mouth to say something most definitely insulting, but he seemed to remember that Hermione did have a mean right hook (as did all the people around Harry, he was staring to realize), and thankfully kept his mouth shut. But instead of proceeding through the train cars, he plopped himself down, staring down at Harry and Hermione. Harry was practically preening at his mate's attention, but it just made it all that more difficult to keep his glamour's intact when the creature blood inside him was bursting with the need to show its mate how beautiful and submissive it was.
Merlin, why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't Harry just finish school and lock himself in his house until he died?
"So, do tell how long the affair has been going on? I did see the little Weaslette surrounded by her friends and cooing her like a small animal. And the Weasel stormed past me and bumped into me rather violently. It was very rude." Draco drawled. The sound of someone being a sarcastic git shouldn't be attractive and Harry definitely shouldn't be getting hard over it, but here he was.
"We aren't together! Why can't you just leave me alone? Leave Harry alone? We have more important issues to deal with rather than you, you know." Hermione snapped.
"Voldemort is dead, what could be soooo important? Are you and Potter already getting yourself in trouble….wait…don't tell me you broke up with the Weaslette?" Draco concluded, sounding positively gleeful.
Harry just averted his eyes, slowly standing up to his short height and letting out a long breathe.
"Harry had every right to do it." Hermione defended him, her face starting to show puzzlement at Harry's lack of response to Malfoys teasing.
"Why did you do it, huh, Potter? Finally realize she was a bit too poor and too….redheaded? Was it someone else? Or did you finally realize how bent you are?" Malfoy questioned, the beginnings of a smirk creeping onto his cupid bow lips.
Harry's entire body stiffened and the whole car got eerily quiet.
"Harry….you aren't, are you?" Hermione questioned, her voice hesitant and fragile, like she was talking to a small child.
Harry turned his head towards the window and away from their judgmental glares. How could he tell them that he wasn't really gay, just gay for the man next to him? How could he tell them that he was dying because the other man wanted a woman, and had tried to make Harry into one? How could he tell them that Harry couldn't look at himself naked without knowing just how much of Draco's he was, the long tattoo winding from his shoulders all the way down to just past his pelvic bone proof of that? He could feel the dragon moving, knowing just how close its mate was, yet it was still out of reach.
"Oh my god, that is rich!" Draco exclaimed, before holding his stomach in laughter. "It makes so much sense. When you gave back my wand…you were going to do it, weren't you? Kiss me, I mean? You're a fucking queer for me, and you know that there is no way I would ever return your feelings. I have a mate, fag, and you will never be it." Draco hissed, and Harry's whole body curled away from the hurtful words as Draco left the compartment with a whirl.
Harry's heart died a little, and he wondered if it would actually be worth it to let himself die naturally…
/
Ever since the end of the war, things had been weird for Draco Malfoy. He was alive, and his family was alive, and that in itself was a miracle, but things were…off.
It all started off that night.
Draco had come into his inheritance on his 17th birthday. Yes, he was supposed to be a pureblood and technically that had tainted him, but in pureblood society, the more beautiful you were the farther you could get. People were naturally drawn to Veela's, and no one truly could tell, so in the scheme of things, it wasn't a huge deal.
As long as Draco wore the ring on his finger, his instincts were suppressed enough that he would be unable to find his mate. Which meant Draco could do what he like to do best: fuck.
But ever since the war, ever since the night it ended, there was a dream that kept floating around his head.
He had finally received the dream of what his mate would look like.
It had started off as a normal dream, he was sitting by the lake by the school, the day perfect and clear, when he felt a presence behind him. And it was intoxicating. He felt arms wrap around his neck, a nose gliding up the curve of his neck and he let himself release a low growl in the back of his throat at his submissive and he felt a delicious shudder run down their spine. Those hands unbuttoned his shirt buttons, leaving small kisses on the side of his neck, so soft it was like they weren't even there.
Once the buttons were done the shirt was quickly shrugged off and those hands began to explore all the exposed skin available.
Draco reached around, bringing the figure around and holding them so close, breathing in the scent that set his every cell on fire. His hands began an exploration of their own.
But something was…wrong. Submissives were supposed to display all the characteristics the Dominants liked best. He wanted more curves, more of a butt, longer hair.
He wanted them to be feminine, to look soft and yielding, while he looked sharp and commanding.
With another low growl, he lunged towards that tan neck, gripping the inky black strands that got longer and longer by the moment. He violently marked that perfect neck, so everyone knew whose property this body was. His lips got higher and higher until they reached an angular jaw and two pink lips, the bottom on trapped between straight, white teeth to keep those pathetic mewls inside.
"That certainly won't do now, will it, love? Let me hear you," Draco commanded and he saw those eyes peek up at him through long lashes. Green. Vibrant, vivid green stared up at him innocently. God they were beautiful. A breathless moan was released as his mate got the full effects of his dominance, and Draco reveled in it. In knowing that this beautiful creature in front of him knew who he belonged to. Knowing this was his no matter what.
No one could take them away.
They couldn't leave him.
He kissed them hard, until he tasted the metallic tang of blood enter his mouth. He could feel their hands digging into his skin, a faint twinge of pain there, but certainly not in the forefront of his mind.
He released their lips with a messy pop and yanked that hair back hard, earning a faint cry.
"Suck bitch," Draco demanded, and they listened, like the good little girl they were, carefully unbuttoning Draco's pants to get access. Draco gripped that long hair tighter, impatience getting the best of him. "I don't think I told you to take your dear sweet time, I believe I told you to suck my cock. So I would recommend getting to that or fucking leave."
The once cautious movements got more frantic, and if Draco had been paying any attention maybe he would have seen the tremor in those hands, or the scarring on the top of those beautiful hands, or the lack of breasts, but at the moment Draco was simply concerned about cumming. The rest seemed trivial.
Once the first few hesitant licks were taken to Draco's cock, he lost any semblance of control, shoving that head down until the person beneath him was choking and gagging. But Draco didn't care. The person sucking (gagging, whatever) on his cock was his property. He didn't give a single shit if they were having a hard time, if anything, they should be getting used to it. The second Draco found them, this was going to be how he expected to wake up every day.
The closer he got, the harder and faster he shoved that pretty raven haired head down, until finally he gave an especially deep thrust and came down that silky throat, moaning as he did so. They stayed like that for a moment, before his mate lifted herself up, shoulders shaking and tears coming down in thick rivers.
Draco was at a loss for words. He reached a hand out almost involuntary to comfort the form in front of him and they flinched. They flinched. Rage bubbled up in Draco's stomach. His mate was ruining this moment. It was supposed to be romantic and she is fucking crying.
"Stop crying already. Merlin, are you going to be one of those?" Draco hissed out angrily, and those green eyes opened to look at him for the last time, before everything started to blur around the edges.
"Wait!" Draco cried, something bubbling in his chest at the thought of his mate leaving him, especially while they were fucking crying.
But before he could do anything, he woke up.
His was covered in his own semen, like some teenage boy. He was bothered by the fact that his mate had been crying. Had he made her cry? What the hell had he managed to do to make her cry before she ever said a word to him? Whatever. She would be learning her place when he finally got a hold of her.
But Draco couldn't get the picture of that crying face out of his mind as he went through everything. He thought of them when he fucked one of the many girls he had managed to get into his bed. He thought of them when the ministry raided his house, taking things that had been in the family for generations. He thought of them when he and his family had been thrown in the dungeons of the Ministry as all of them awaited trial, being told that there was no way they could escape Azkaban. That there was no way his father wouldn't be Kissed.
And as he sat in at his trial, and watched Harry Potter defend him, defend his family, defend his actions, that was the only time he didn't think of his mate. Maybe his mate was a Potter, because the color of Potter's hair was almost identical. It wouldn't be a bad thing. They were a bit of a dying family line, but their blood was pure. It would be a match that his father would surely approve of even if it meant that whoever he was to spend the rest of his life with was, even distantly, technically related to Potter.
And then there was the incident.
It had been after his father's trial. Because of Potters testimony, his mother was just put on house arrest, he was able to attend his last year of Hogwarts, and as long as he behaved he would be done with any sort of restrictions after he graduated.
And his father, who was a known Death Eater, a known advocator, had endangered students, supported the wrong side of the war, and all around had done horrible things, had avoided the Kiss. He was sentenced to five years in Azkaban, all because of Harry fucking Potter.
And then Potter did the last unspeakable thing.
Draco had been leaning against a wall outside the courtroom, long after his father's trail was over. He had made his goodbye quick, because he knew that his mother needed more time with his father than he did. So he was waiting, when he heard footsteps. Potter moved toward him slowly, almost hesitantly, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
"What do you want Potter?" Draco asked, exhausted from his thoughts over the past few weeks and the many sleepless nights he had faced. Potter stopped, looking up at him for the first time and knocking the breathe out of his lungs when he say the color of his eyes. It was that perfect green, so vibrant it almost looked like they glowed. Draco growled at the thought. Potter was not his mate he just had characteristics that reminded him of her. He needed to get his instincts in control.
"I-I…" he started, but seemed to stop, biting his lip so harshly Draco was sure it drew blood. He watched as he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and met Draco's eyes again. "This is yours."
He held out his hand, and what was in it made Draco's heart stop. His wand. The wand he felt like he hadn't seen in years. He had been using his mothers, and with everything going on, he hadn't even had time to miss the Hawthorn wand. He reached out hand, and took the wand, his fingers brushing against Potter's in a way that made a gasp escape his lips. It had to just be his magic readjusting to his wand that was the only reasonable explanation. Potters stupid, jade eyes looked at him expectantly, and he took a step forward, as if wanting something from Draco. There was something in those eyes, something Draco didn't know about, but he certainly didn't want to think about any longer.
He took a few steps back, a grimace forming on his face.
"Thanks. Could have just owled it to me days ago but I guess you never have been the smartest. For being the fucking Boy-Who-Lived you sure are dim. Good thing you have that little Weaslette enamored with you, because no one else will ever want you. Without her, you will die alone, because there is no one else would could ever possibly deal with you. I know I would never be able to. " Draco drawled cruelly, knowing that it was harsh for someone who had just given something so precious to him back, but just so fucking angry at those eyes looking up at him with that expression.
He whirled around angrily just as the door opened, revealing his nearly-ready-to-have-an-emotional-breakdown-but-hoping-to-make-it-home-because-that-was-the-Pureblood-way mother. He put a hand around her shoulder, and she nearly collapsed against him. He turned his head subtly, just barely catching the expression on Potters face out of the corner of his eyes, and upon seeing it, gripping his wand in a white-knuckled grip until he made it to the apparition point of the Ministry and sent them back home.
That interaction stayed in his mind until the day he boarded the train to take him to Hogwarts again.
Then he found out Potter was gay. Oh god, he had wanted to kiss Draco that day outside the courtroom. He wanted Draco in that way. He couldn't believe that. Potter had most like done everything to try and get in his pants! As if he would ever stoop to that level.
But in the back of his mind, something nagged him. That hopelessness in those green eyes had seemed so familiar. The way Potter looked at him was so strange. It was a way he had never seen anyone look at him before except for his… he wasn't even going to compare them. They were on completely different levels. He was the fucking Savoir of the Wizarding World. He could get over his stupid crush. It wasn't Draco's fault he was gorgeous.
So why did his heart feel weird when he looked around the Great Hall, tables full and first years getting sorted, and he didn't see Potter?
/
If Harry had been weaker than he was, maybe he wouldn't have been able to open the portrait to the entrance of the Last Year dorms. He might be sick and dying from his rejection and his magic being drained, but all that had managed to do is make wandless magic that much easier to him. He was a powerful wizard, he knew that, otherwise he would already be dead.
But Harry couldn't fucking go into the Great Hall. He couldn't watch those fucking first years get sorted. He couldn't fucking deal with Ron and Ginny and Hermione and all the things he couldn't tell them and that they certainly didn't understand. And lastly, he couldn't deal with Draco fucking Malfoy and his horrible words and his rejection.
But I guess, that would only mean the process would be quicker.
He walked through the commons room, up the stairs until he reached the very top, and walked towards the very last room at the end of the hall and opened it.
Harry had come back to Hogwarts to help rebuild. McGonagall had found him here on many occasions, and had hinted to the fact that Harry could get placed in this room. It was so far up, and the window showed a view of the Forbidden Forest and the Lake where he had first met Draco in a dream…
He didn't want to think about that right now. He stripped from his robes, falling on the bed and closing the curtains around him. He knew he should take some of the potions his Healer said he would need in order to keep himself alive as long as possible. He knew he should be down in the Great Hall, because he knew there would be questions asked. He knew he should be doing everything but moping in a room that possibly wasn't his, but here he was, and he wasn't going to be leaving until the sun rose again.
He let those glamour's fall away, his hair falling in disheveled strands all around him and falling softly down his back. And with a choked groan, wings sprouted from his back, showing just how sick he really was. What should have been beautiful white wings, had horrible black creeping through them, starting where they connected to Harry's back, and inching its way out. He let them cover him, wishing if he wasn't going to be a normal Veela (if there even was such a thing) that he could at least not be dying (he wasn't sure he was actually wanted that, but he would like the option). But things were never easy for him.
Hermione knew of his 'attraction' (that felt like such a weak word compared to how he felt. Plus, he was 99% sure that if Draco wasn't his mate he wouldn't give a shit about the git). Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasley family seemed to have disowned him. He was dying now. Draco had rejected him again and all he wanted to do is cry but that hollowness inside of him just ached too much for him to take the energy to do so. He flicked his wrist a few times, casting a silencing spell and a spell to make sure the curtains stayed close no matter what, and closed his eyes.
And all sorts of thought floated around his head before he fell asleep, tucked under his black and white wings. Like, if this was how his first day back was, would it get worse? Would Hermione figure everything out? Would he even get to live to see the end of the school year?
But before he could even start to look for answers he fell asleep, away from the life that seemed to give him nothing but problems.
/
Hello! This is my first attempt at mxm for one of my favorite couples. This story will be mature, so that's just a warning. I would love to hear what you guys have to say.