Just One Word.
Authors Note: (7-1-11)This is my first Harry Potter story. I had this scene stuck in my head for awhile, and I needed to get it out. So here you are.
UPDATED AUTHORS NOTE: (10-10-11) I changed the setting from Pre-HBP to Post DH! Sorry if this confuses anyone, I just needed to change it for the sequel to this.
Warnings: Cutting, swearing, slight HP/DM slash.
Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, therefore, I don't own any of the characters. Story idea is mine though.
Snow.
Wind.
More snow.
More wind.
Despite the chilly weather, and the snow that kept seeping into Draco's shoes, making his feet numb, he didn't go inside. Instead, he welcomed the cold. It cleared his head. Cleared his head of thoughts and worries that had been bugging him. For a minute, at least. But the thoughts and worries kept coming back; kept haunting him.
He continuously though about his father. How his father had wanted nothing more than the Dark Lords approval. He'd become so obsessed with getting it, he pushed his son into being a Death Eater; simply because the Dark Lord told him to. He didn't once think about what Draco wanted. He didn't once think how this could affect Draco's life. But Draco went along with it, wanting to make his father proud, and also fearing for his own life.
He continuously thought about the Dark Lords orders. How he was supposed to have killed Dumbledore. He didn't want to, of course. He had tried every route to get around having to actually point his wand at the Headmaster and say those dreaded words.
Draco shivered at the thought that he almost did that.
I didn't do it. I couldn't do it, Draco thought bitterly. Malfoy's weren't supposed to be weak, or show weakness. Malfoy's weren't supposed to be sensitive. Malfoy's weren't supposed to be cowards.
But that's what you are, he accused himself.
Draco sighed, and pulled out his precious knife. The knife had been his getaway. His excuse to think about something else; something other than what his thoughts are usually plagued with.
He placed the blade on his left wrist, and gently pressed down. Pain shot up his arm, but he continued to press down. Blood slowly fell from the cut and down his arm. He winced, but pulled the knife up and then pressed it down on a new patch of skin.
He thought he heard someone come up behind him, but blew it off and kept making marks on his arms with the knife. A hand was placed on his shoulder, and Draco nearly fell off the bench from the sudden contact. He looked up to see, who else, but Harry Bloody Potter.
Oh hell.
"What do you want, Potter? Come to laugh at me? Come to rub it in my face at how cowardly im being?" Draco spat. He glared up at Harry, expecting an answer or a witty reply.
Harry simply shook his head, his eyes still focused on the sharp, bloody knife in Draco's hand.
Draco looked at the knife and scoffed. "Yes, it's a fucking knife, Potter. Im cutting myself with it. See?" Draco held up his bleeding arm for Harry to see.
Harry ignored the bleeding arm that was being shoved in his face and sat down on the bench next to Draco. He looked at Draco's arm, and then back to his face. Harry had a confused look on his face, and Draco knew he wanted an explanation.
"Why should I tell you about this? Why should I tell you, of all people? You'll probably just laugh at me." Draco said, not nearly as angry as he had been earlier.
Harry shook his head, and then twirled his hands, motioning for Draco to continue.
Draco sighed. "Im sick of being Voldemort's little play toy. Im sick of being forced to do things I don't want to. Im sick of my father forcing me to be a Death Eater, when I definitely don't want to be one. Im sick of feeling useless. Im sick of being so confused, and so fearful all the damn time. Im sick of being reminded of my mission." He finished, running a hand through his blond hair.
The whole time, Harry had just sat there, listening intently.
"Well aren't you going to fucking say something?" Draco fumed. "Aren't you going to tell me how stupid im being? Aren't you going to tell me that cutting myself is wrong? Aren't you going to tell me im just like my father? Well im not Potter. Im not like him at all." Tears had found their way to Draco's eyes, and he tried to keep them from falling.
Harry looked at him, his expression unreadable.
"Will you just stop fucking looking at me like that? Im done talking. Go away and leave me alone now. Go off and tell your stupid Gryffindor friends. Go have a great laugh at how miserable my life is. I know you want to." Then, the tears that Draco had been trying so hard to keep back, fell down his face. Draco turned his head so Harry couldn't see him crying.
Then the unexpected happened: Harry pulled Draco into a hug.
"Let go of me, you prat!" Draco squirmed against Harry's embrace.
"No." The first word Harry had said while he'd been out here, and it made Draco stop struggling against Harry.
Harry's grip tightened and Draco just put his head against Harry's chest and cried. Harry laid his head on top of Draco's while rubbing his back.
It felt weird to Draco, you know, being comforted. Comfort was definitely not something Draco was used to. But it felt nice. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, and lifted his head to look at Harry. Harry's emerald eyes told him that Harry was there for him, and that soon, everything would be alright.
Draco leaned up and softly kissed Harry, kind of as a thank you. Suddenly, realizing what he'd done, Draco pulled away, embarrassed and blushing. Harry smiled, and simply kissed him back.
Draco then knew everything would be okay. Because he had Harry.
Lame ending, yes, I know. But what do you think?
Reviews are most definitely appreciated.
~katie(: