I think I'm drowning

A chill was resting in the castle in early-December. It felt like uninvited icy smoke suspended in the grounds. Students wore thick shirts and robes, clinging to their skins which were covered in prickling goosebumps. Everyone felt uncomfortably tight and rigid in their numb bodies and shifted through the mist in the corridors between lessons as quickly as possible, seeking refuge in dimly lit and warm classrooms.

No-one ever seemed to speak much to each other anymore, at least not out of the groups they were comfortable with. The post-war rumours created a tense invisible string constricting everyone's opinions of eachother. Nobody dared to defy it.

Potter and Malfoy's constant badgering had ended. In their extended eighth year at Hogwarts, a bizarre and silent mutual understanding had formed between them, accepting that it was best if they distanced themselves and stuck to their own world.

It unsettled Draco at first, though he could not give a solid explanation why.

***

Malfoy had been given a detention for turning a third year's robes inside out and watching him bob in midair. The boy had been shivering madly and shrieked repeated apologies at Malfoy. All for calling Draco a stupid ponce.

Malfoy walked through the darkness swallowing the castle on a bitter Tuesday night, strolling near windows so the dimness was obscurely royal blue. Malfoy could feel the light pouring generously onto his pale face from the night sky shimmering with scattered stars. The castle was still but extremely cold. Malfoy was shaking slightly as he glided across passages and down stairways. He saw the doorway to the room where he would have his detention. An inviting orange glow rested in the middle of the shaded entrance, hinting to a generous fireplace. Malfoy, staggered hastily forward, ready to embrace the warmth.

When Malfoy entered roaming darkness of the small spare classroom, he was unsure what to do or say when he saw Potter sitting on the other side of the room in the middle of a hazy glow, with his usual tousled hair and pouty expression.

Draco strolled over to Harry, watching him carefully to pick out any of his reactions so they could give some kind of indication to how Draco should act. The room was obviously silent, aside from the gentle echoing of the blonde's footsteps, as he passed through the shadows, and Harry's quill writing roughly. The closer he got to the many floating candles lit around Harry, the hotter Draco's face felt. He frowned slightly when a brand new purring voice inside him expressed that it might not have anything to do with the candles…

"Copying out old report cards for Filch." Potter said flatly, looking up briefly from the card his quill was scratching across, not meeting Draco's grey eyes.

Draco nodded stiffly and then felt dense since Potter was not looking up anymore. He scraped his dark chair backwards noisily and sat down opposite Potter, still watching his blank expression as Potter worked, pretending to be oblivious to Malfoy watching him. Draco reached out for a dark quill that had appeared next to the stack of old and new report cards and began working silently.

They sat for an hour, not saying a word to eachother. Draco kept glancing at Harry, hating the hush between them. It wasn't how they grew up together; they would have been squabbling aimlessly and retorting with ridiculous jeers a few years ago. Malfoy almost chuckled, picturing perfectly a pointy faced, platinum-blonde headed boy running in and out of the light. The young Draco was sneering menacingly at a small thin raven-haired boy who ran after him, glaring and shooting feeble green sparks from the end of his wand. They both ran on and were swallowed by the cloudy darkness.

Malfoy noted Harry looked at peace in the glow of the candle light, contrasting to how anxious and far-away he seemed during the day. His eyes remained on his work, so the shadows around his eyelashes made them vivid and denser against his skin. The pearly gold flush outlined his jaw and the dips in his face, making a gentle gloom over his features, enhancing them.

Draco kept fidgeting noisily, shifting in his seat, messing with his hair and rubbing the table for no reason.

He hated the silence and was trying to figure out why.

The unexplained heat that had draped over Draco at first had disappeared and the intense chill began to claw back. Draco's right arm felt stiff from the cold and writing so he stretched it outwards, sighing with relief when a comfortable twinge emerged in the centre of his arm. That's when Malfoy's and Harry's hands brushed.

Draco's fingers were frozen from the sour winter. Harry's were smooth and warm.

Something electrifying flickered. A spark shot up from Draco's fingertips and up his arm. The blast sent flutters to his stomach and jolts up his spine. Heat spread around his face again. Draco looked up at Harry due to the surprise of the sudden strikes running through him, especially since they were triggered by something so tiny and seemingly insignificant. It all happened in the space of a few seconds.

Malfoy pulled his arm back suddenly and gazed into Harry's bright green eyes, resting behind plain round glasses that reflected the hanging candlelight. Harry looked back, eyes wide and full of fast thoughts.

Malfoy felt like he was drowning. Malfoy saw it all, marks from the war that was plastered onto the whole magical world. Potter's tense, confused expression poured out everything for Malfoy without any hesitation, perhaps because they had affected the other in the war so much and this unspoken agreement between them layered so much more than a simple 'stay out of each other's way.' They had been through so much, too much, and Harry was a distinct reminder for Malfoy…therefore Malfoy must be a reminder for Harry.

The emerald pools were filled with sorrow, regret and reminiscing, stretching out from memories of long ago. Draco's stormy eyes echoed them back to him.

With a strange amount of difficulty, Harry unattached himself from the held gaze they had both just shared. He stared down at the blank square of parchment in front of him, dipped his quill into the ink pot and began copying out the text slowly.

Malfoy saw that there was definitely less flow in the way Potter was moving now. He knew the scanning look in Harry's eyes and why he was so tense; he was back to his old ways of over-thinking things. He was mirroring the way that Draco had been fidgeting. Harry's hair became somehow messier as he hastily moved his head between the blank parchment, old report card, inkpot and quill. He was biting his full lips furiously and kept squeezing his eyes shut as if he was having trouble seeing the clear writing in front of him. His left hand was balled into a fist and pressing firmly into the table. The candle light reflected an odd scar between Potter's knuckles and wrist which looked like words. Draco had heard about the detentions with Umbridge but didn't know it scarred Harry to this extent. The snug glow continued to engulf Harry, resting around his soft face and signature pout.

Malfoy's lips went dry when the new voice that had interrupted him when he entered the chamber mused about how good looking Potter was.

The candles shimmered slightly, drawing darkness closer briefly before pushing it away again.

Harry felt that Malfoy was still watching him. When Harry glanced up, he could not help but stop writing again when the smooth grey eyes latched back onto Harry's.

The way Malfoy looked aghast by what must have been his own thoughts amused Harry slightly. Harry had no choice but to smile at him. Malfoy gulped when the stars and flips in his stomach returned violently.

Malfoy cleared his throat to prevent himself sounding coarse when he said "How have you been, Potter?"

Harry's expression turned tense again and he looked away into the darkness surrounding the candlelight to his left. He replied "Distant."

Malfoy followed Potter's line of site, trying to make out the dark outline of desks in the shadows, and murmured "I know what you mean."

Harry looked fixatedly back at the blonde, who used every muscle in his body to not stare back. He did not want to loose his composure and begin helplessly drowning in Potter's striking green eyes again.

"But now I'm thinking, what's left for me?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows as he spoke.

Draco turned his head and fixed his eyes back at Harry's. It returned; the beautiful drowning and tingling sensation he got. Once again, the painful churning erupted in Draco's stomach, electric jerks shot up his back and caused Draco's cheeks to blaze furiously.

Malfoy frowned and leant forward as he said "There has to something though." It wasn't a question.

Harry hunched his shoulders, robes moving liquidly around them. The icy surroundings made the rub of cloth hurt slightly. Draco saw that his robes were an odd dusty blackened gold colour in the light. Harry also leaned forward, sending more uncomfortable eruptions and blasts through Draco's stomach.

Harry could feel Draco's soft breathing on his face and was taken aback when something tight and painful grabbed his stomach inside and turned it menacingly. Heat and sparks felt like the were erupting around Harry's cheeks and something strange wanted to push Harry's face more forward, perhaps to take in more of the gorgeous lustrous grey eyes,

But Harry had became good at one thing; wearing a mask. He did not gasp for air and widen his eyes like his instincts told him to, to portray his growing fiery emotions and state of supreme shock. Instead, he smiled, allowing it to crinkle his eyes and felt his stomach flip when Malfoy intensely watched his mouth move.

Both Harry's and Draco's pale skins were glowing with a light bronze tint of enchanted candlelight.

Potter said nothing as he scraped his chair back and left the room, entering freezing darkness with deep sapphire spilling from under the windows revealing the smooth winter night sky. Harry's eyes were wide, as he halted in front of a large arched window and gaped at the lake, reflecting the stunning star struck sky, feeling like his gaze was drowning in it. It rippled in the sharp breeze.

Trembling viciously, Harry thought to himself. A soft chime of birds in the distance blended with the landscape perfectly. Running his now shaking, icy fingers over the bottom of the window frame and shuddering from the piercing cold touch, Harry knew he was in serious trouble. It was pretty clear that the odd and powerful mutual understanding between Draco and himself may have gone a step too far.

***

cody by mogwai

for the chimes and lyrics