Disclaimer: Harry Potter and co do not belong to me (unfortunately)! They belong to the marvellous JK Rowling. The song 'Outside' belongs to the band, Staind.
A/N: I know I have a gazillion number of fics to finish off. But I really want to write some H/D slash! It has to be written right now, because otherwise, it'll be held off for ages (you can decide whether that's a good of bad thing)! I think this is my first serious attempt at a songfic, so I hope it will turn out ok! This is the first of four chapters!
This is for you, Cully!
***
Outside
By Mithua.
And you,
Bring me to my knees, again.
All the times,
That I could beg you please
In vain
All the times,
That I felt insecure.
For you,
And I leave
My burdens at the door.
The skies were dark. The morbid thunder rumbled overhead. And the rain fell. Heavily. Everything seemed bleak, even the blonde mass of hair which had once shone vigorously, strongly. The blonde tightened his grip around his cloak, his breath haggard from the running, his leg bleeding from the injuries from the night before. He had barely escaped their clutches, he was sure that he'd be a dead man if they ever found him again. He had betrayed them. He had made them seem vulnerable for the first time. He had exposed them. He was to be punished, and no one escaped the Dark Lord, no one at all…except him.
Draco flinched as another blinding pain shot through his left leg. He tied the make-shift bandage tighter around his leg, trying to stop the blood from coming. He'd hate to see his wound. But still, he continued on his painful journey, searching for that log cabin on the hill. He cursed him for having a home at such an obscure place. Made travelling there a lot difficult. Had he been able to apparate, he would gladly do it. But with his current injury, he was sure that his leg would be splinched from his body. He winced at the thought.
He at last saw the cabin from afar. A hazy smoke rising from it, blending in with the grey of the clouds above. The rain could be seen, hitting off the roof of the cabin. Draco made his way up the precarious hill, to the home of the only man that could possibly trust him.
The hill was slippery. The wet stones of the path were covered in a thick moss, and walking was extremely difficult. Especially with an injured leg. How Draco had wished he had learned some healing spells. He never thought he'd ever actually need them. He scolded himself again for overestimating himself. If he had received such an injury in battle and returned to the Dark Lord, he would be considered a retard and would have been better off dead. So he had made sure never to become badly injured in battle. He wouldn't need those healing spells. But now he did.
After what seemed like hours, Draco had reached the log cabin home. The wind was colder and harsher up here. The rain fell down heavier and the there lay a thin mist around the home. But the home emanated warmth, the only warm thing on the whole bloody hill.
Draco was exhausted. His breathing was rigid, his leg swollen and painful, his feet cramped from the climb, and a stitch forming at his side. He limped to the door and raised his hand to knock, but just before his hand came in contact with the cedar wood, he stopped, and dropped it.
What if he didn't trust him anymore?
What if hated him now?
Would he care if he was practically crippled at his doorstep?
Would he forgive?
Could he forgive?
Draco's feet trembled, before they finally gave way to his weight. He flinched at the sudden movement, the throbbing had turned excruciating again. He had almost yelled out. But Draco sat there, on the doorstep, still soaking from the rain. He leaned his forehead against the cedar wood quietly. It gave him a little warmth amongst the cold.
He wouldn't want him around. Not after what had happened these past few years.
He should have died when the Death Eaters turned on him under Voldemort's command.
He shouldn't be here.
The support of the door suddenly disappeared, and it took all of Draco's effort not to fall forward to the ground. He looked up to see a wand pointed at his head, that wondrous holly wand. Draco lifted his face to meet the startled green eyes.
"Bloody hell…" Harry whispered.
Quickly placing his wand in his pocket, Draco felt two warm hands pull him to his feet. A warm hand slithered around his waist and another placed it around Harry's neck. Draco was half-helped, half-dragged to the couch at the opposite side of the room.
He was safe, for now.
***
A/N: Yay!! That was fun! Maybe not that much of an entertaining read, but it will hopefully get better! Please review, I'd be really grateful!