Your Shoulder to Cry on
A/N: Characters and places do not belong to me. They are from the beautiful mind of J.K. Rowling. Just a short something I thought of. Enjoy this while I continue writing Necessity. My apologies for taking so long on that. I hope to have the next chapter up soon. I just haven't had the time to write recently. But now it's school holidays. Stay tunes, Lovely's. Reviews would be wonderful.
Harry was heading back to Gryffindor tower after a walk around the castle to clear his head. He knew no one would be out at this time of night, not even Filch. He hadn't even bothered to take his invisibility cloak.
His mind was interrupted by a soft whimper. Harry stopped in his tracks, listening to the cries. He slowly, cautiously followed the sound to an alcove covered by a large tapestry. His hand gripped the side of the fabric and pulled it aside in one swift motion. A lump formed in his throat at the sight before him.
The blond didn't seem to have noticed he had company. He kept his head buried in his folded arms, he knees tight against his chest. Sobs wracked his body, each a bit louder than the one before.
Harry sat crossed legged on the cold stone floor. He didn't know what to do. Should he leave? Or maybe try to comfort the boy? He chose the latter. Harry tentatively allowed his hand to touch the boys shoulder.
The boy froze and slowly lifted his head from his arms. His deep grey eyes were rimmed with tears threatening to fall. He didn't even try to glare at Harry or shrug his hand off of his shoulder; just rested his head in his arms once again.
"What do you want?" His voice was horse, barely audible, but Harry heard him perfectly.
He didn't answer. Harry looked deep into those eyes. He saw a familiar emotion, one he had seen in himself many times. He gently pulled the boy to him.
He didn't struggle. He didn't have the strength. Had he not been so distraught, he may have tried to fight it. He dropped him head onto Harry's welcoming shoulder, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.
"Don't fight it, Malfoy." Harry said softly. The two sat like that for a while, Malfoy continuing to crying and Harry rubbing his back.
Gut wrenching sobs died down to silent tears and Malfoy turned to Harry, who hadn't stopped his slow caress.
"I guess we're more alike than I thought." Malfoy mumbled. Harry gave a questioning look. "We've both had to watch the people we love die."
Harry sat quietly, not wanting to break this peacefulness that had taken over. It was true, though. Harry was with Malfoy when Vincent Crabbe had died in the fiendfyre. Crabbe and Goyle had been Malfoy's friends. He knew it would hit him hard. He just didn't expect to be the one to console him when it did.
"How the hell did you manage to come back here, Potter?"
"I should be asking you the same question." Harry said.
Malfoy slumped against the wall, letting Harry's hand drop to his knee. "My mother forced me. But I can't handle this." Malfoy pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes. "Every day people come up to me and tell me that it's my fault that someone in their family is dead. And it is. But I was scared, Potter. Do you know what it's like to have to jeopardize your own life to protect the people you love? Of course you know, you're Harry fucking Potter! You've been doing this since you were a bloody child! Why haven't you snapped? Why aren't you the one crying on some persons shoulder? Fucking hell, answer me, Potter!"
"Are you done?" Harry asked. Malfoy nodded once and glanced at Harry. "Well, first of all, I came back because I wanted to. I had to see everyone again. And I have snapped. Multiple times. I've just been around the right people so I can usually calm down fairly quickly." Malfoy hung his head. "Can I ask you something?"
Malfoy nodded.
"Why are you out here? I mean, aren't there people in Slytherin who understand what you've had to go through the past few years?"
Malfoy wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robes. He shook his head.
"Well surely you have friends there."
Another shake of the head.
"Why?"
Malfoy thought for a moment. "Standing alone is better than standing with people who hurt you. You of all people should realize that, Potter."
Harry did realize it. Hell, for most of his childhood he had to stand alone. After years of starvation and neglect, when he had been sent to Hogwarts, that was when he made his first friends, where people first respected him, the first place he was wanted.
"You're not standing alone anymore." Harry said suddenly.
Draco stared at him, a few tears still sitting at the corner of his eyes. "The hell are you talking about, Potter?"
Harry stood up, swaying a bit as the blood rushed to his head, and held his hand out to Malfoy. The blond's eyes flickered between Harry and the hand held toward him.
"Are you going to take it or not?" Harry asked. He smiled when he felt the soft, thin hand fit comfortably in his. He pulled Malfoy to his feet. "We're standing together from now on."
Harry let his fingers linger on Malfoy's before slowly pulling his hand away and heading toward the staircase between the dungeons and Gryffindor tower. Malfoy stared after Harry as he made his way up the stairs. He smiled to himself.
He whispered to himself. "Together."