Painting Pictures
Disclaimer: As always, these characters do not belong to me but to the lovely Ms JK Rowling, and I'll also acknowledge the influence of "Jessie" from Joshua Kadison because it's only my absolute favourite song.. ever.
"Harry."
He refuses to respond.
"Harry"
"Harry, this has to stop."
He moans, head throbbing as the sheets are pulled from his face and the sun assaults his eyes.
"Oh, Harry."
Cool hands brush his forehead as the voice softens.
"Come on, come here"
She holds him until the nausea hits and he shuffles into the bathroom.
She cleans him up as leans against the bench and tries to settle his shaking hands.
And as he gazes into the mirror and sees the ruin in his eyes, she is behind him. Her arms encircle him waist as the tremors travel to the rest of his body.
He feels her sigh against his neck.
"Harry, you should stop this."
He meets her warm eyes, so different from his, with her curls cascading down her back. They look so good together.
"Harry", her voice sharpens, "this isn't good for you."
If only he, if only they, were that way. But it's an impossible reality.
His lovely Mione stand there draped in her short kimono that hides lustrous pale skin and scars. His darling sister, orphaned and alone but standing by him despite it all.
He turns to embrace her fully. She smiles slowly at him, tracing a hand over his bare abdomen where his own marks make intricate white patterns on his body.
With his face buried in her hair he attempts to hide from the reality of what she says.
"Harry, he isn't good for you."
He sighs into her neck, "I love him."
"I know. I know, dear."
They fall silent, until she shifts and looks up at him.
"What happened this time?"
He frowns lightly and begins to speak.
The door bell rings as he sets down his mug.
Before he opens the door he knows, somehow, that it's him.
"Hello, Harry."
"Draco."
He stands there with his grey eyes glinting in the hall lighting as he begins to take off his gloves.
"Long time, no see."
"Indeed."
He wants to run. He wants to hide in the closet until Draco disappears.
And...
He wants to be held by him. Wants to take in his unique scent. Savour it. Until it surrounds him entirely.
Draco strides forward and runs his fingers along his cheek.
"You look like a startled deer, Potter. I'll fix that."
He touches Harry.
Strokes down his neck, along his collarbones.
A flick of his wand causes his shirt to fall from him. Allowing his hands access along his spare frame and they fall to his exposed hipbones.
Draco urges him to his bedroom, the familiarity simultaneously thrilling and chilling Harry, as he bares his own body.
All night he murmurs to Harry.
He tells him of their future together. A home full of light and happiness and an existence of lovers who have nothing to fear but the passage of time.
He moves with him, strokes against him and takes him.
And then in the morning, Draco is gone.
Their future together is nothing. A thin tale, a falsehood. A waste of the air he expels.
"... So as always," he finishes, "we have nothing. So long as he's married that's all we have."
"Oh, love," Hermione sighs, "I'm sorry."
"I know, I know."
Slowly he detaches himself from Mione, downs a Dreamless potion and moves back to his bed.
She follows him and wipes a cool cloth against Harry's face before stretching out beside him.
They curl together and she strokes his neck as Harry he escapes into slumber.
Jessie paint your pictures bout how it's going to be
By now I should know better
Your dreams are never free
But tell me all about our little trailer by the sea
Jessie you can always sell any dream to me
Oh, Jessie, you can always sell any dream to me
"Jessie", Joshua Kadison