A/N: This song is called 'Cold as You', it's by Taylor Swift. This was written as a challenge, though I didn't find it very challenging because this is my favorite pairing… I'm mildly in love with this fic and I can say that because I wrote this around a year ago. I just wanted to post something to prove I'm not dead, though I feel guilty enough to be for not posting on anything else. I've been really busy! (Or I feel like I have, if I haven't…). And no, I don't know why it's spaced all funny, it just decided to do that, I tried to fix it, but no dice.
And I did leave out the chorus after the first time. Because I didn't want to put up with it anymore. And the part between the first part of 'DMxHP' and the next is sort of like a prologue, the rest is the actual thing. I don't know why. It just is. And the lyrics are italicized. So here you go, read and review.
Cold as You
DMxHP DMxHP DMxHP
Lips hovered before his, pale pink. Flushed flesh seemed to burn with rushing blood as fingertips trailed over needy skin, sending the mind reeling with each nerve brushed. Gasps and shivers accompanied this hazy picture, as did a longing he had never experienced before, so deeply driven that Harry was forced to press every inch of himself to the other boy, though he was sure nothing would be enough to satisfy him.
The image was not defined, not clearly there, but more something created by hasty brushstrokes meant only to convey emotion and feeling. This was art in its purest form, tangible even the sentiments that went unspoken.
Then the scene froze, or at least Draco Malfoy did. It was not a pause, but a literal cease-motion full-on stop. Every muscle was tensed. Harry was suddenly a bed-length away from Draco, then he was at the room's entrance, just looking down at Draco who was asleep under the covers of his Slytherin-colored bed, hair thrown into his face and eyes fluttering as he dreamed. Harry stretched out a hand, sure he could reach Draco if he just willed it so . . . Then the room got longer and longer, until Harry could just barely see the other boy.
Panic filled him when Draco tossed in his sleep, obviously needing someone to wake him, and Harry couldn't reach him! He flung himself forward, needing to get back to that warm bed . . . And woke with a start, gasping, unconsciously searching for the person who wasn't there.
You have a way of coming easily to me
And when you take, you take the very best of me
A slow tear formed from the glistening wetness that made Harry's emerald eyes shine brighter, deeper. He curled into a ball on his side, pulling his knees to his chest and finding himself unable to stop a sob from escaping. He tried so hard, he told himself. Every day, he tried to keep away from Draco, because he knew he wasn't going to last with him, he knew that Draco could and would rip his heart out if he was given the chance.
HPxDM HPxDM HPxDM
So I start a fight cause I need to feel something
And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted
Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day
Just walk away, ain't no use defending words that you will never say
And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through
I've never been anywhere cold as you
Draco sat next to him, throwing him a smirk, either ignoring or not even realizing that Harry sat stiffly away from him. "Get away from me." Harry said, his jaw muscles tensed and holding his teeth pressed together so hard it hurt.
"Shut the hell up, Potter." He ordered, casually adjusting his posture and picking up a book that had been left by the couch earlier, presumably by him.
There. The pain came; at least that was a feeling. It wasn't just the ongoing knowledge that he would die any moment, that Voldemort could break down the walls and kill him, that he was sure to fail. It wasn't disappointment in having let down himself and everyone around him. It was hurt, something so deep that it could not be mistaken as anything else, though he was unsure how such uncaring for his wants and the way his last name was spoken could bring such a feeling to him.
"Leave." Harry demanded, though it sounded more like a plea.
The other boy raised an elegant brow, not even looking up from his book, but turning the page. "Hmm, no, I like it just here."
Harry turned toward him, the tenseness draining to be replaced by pain again. "Please, please. Just leave me alone."
With a sigh that made it clear how much the conversation didn't mean to him, Draco looked to Harry very briefly, his expression rather bored. "I haven't said anything to you, Potter. Now, I've got this wonderful book to read, and you've got this thing called a 'life' to live, so why don't you go find someone else to bother with your little delusions for a while, hm?"
Seeing that Harry wasn't moving, he rolled his eyes, placed a bookmark between his page and the next, closed it, and walked from the room.
You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray
And I stood there loving you and wished them all away
"My room, nine." Had been whispered to him earlier that very day.
How familiar the phrase and voice had become, but the knowledge that the meeting would change nothing for Draco and make Harry all the worse off afterward did put a damper on his want for the occasion. But he went anyway, as he was expected to, because as much as he may hate it, he needed it also.
He needed whatever Draco would give him, whatever made Draco happy, and if he could do even this for him then he would. Because if only one of them could be happy, he supposed that Draco deserved it, because at least Harry usually had a good life at Hogwarts, while the other boy still didn't understand the meaning of caring for another human being.
Harry was not shooed from the room immediately afterward, because Draco had already fallen into a deep sleep. His lover did not, however, because his mind was full to the breaking-point with images of what he'd just done and how thoroughly he'd fucked up his own life over the last few months. He lay with his arms tucked behind his head, staring up at the green ceiling rather than the walls of silvery-grey that represented Draco's mind so perfectly in metaphor but belonged to him in reality as well.
If only what he wanted would always be what he got. That was the only way Harry could have Draco, and though he knew this he proceeded to try his best in convincing himself that doing just as Draco told him, that coming to Draco's room every few nights and listening to him speak and whatever else was what would make Draco love him, he knew it wasn't true, somewhere in the bottom of his heart.
And you come away with a great little story
Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you
Whispers followed Harry all through the next day, and without hearing a word of them he knew they were about Draco and himself. His head held as high as one could hold it while carrying the weight of the world, Harry continued on as if all was normal . . . Until he turned the corner to find Draco in the middle of a small, murmuring crowd, speaking of something with an amused smile on his face. "--And then, he said 'All I want is for you to love me, because I love you so much my heart breaks each time you do this'. Can you believe it?" He sounded close to laughter, managing half a chuckle before continuing. "Is that not the most ridiculous thing you've heard? The Chosen Boy should have a bit better material, don't you think?" Many of the people giggled at this, some clapping, and a rough little cry left Harry's mouth before he could catch it.
Everyone suddenly turned his way, just now realizing he was there. They looked surprised; some of them trying to slip away without being seen by him, but Harry was beyond caring. They didn't matter to him. What those people thought was never important, though it was fairly painful to find that even some of his fellow Gryffindors would listen to Draco Malfoy tell these stories about him.
Draco Malfoy who looked, though moderately surprised, not at all unhappy with his unexpected arrival. "Well, speak of the idiot." He smiled cruelly, "Tonight at nine, again?" Draco called.
Without a response, Harry turned and summoned what very little shreds he had left of the thing he'd once called his pride in order to keep him from falling on the ground in a heap of tears and sob his heart bloody.
You never did give a damn thing honey but I cried, cried for you
After he was out of sight from the crowd, he'd fled to the Room of Requirement, falling onto a large amount of very fluffy pillows and blankets. Tears came strong, fast, and lasting. It was hours before he fell into a restless sleep born of exhaustion, and only another few hours before he woke and began to cry again.
This was the first time he'd ever not done as Draco wanted, the first time he'd ever failed to make it to a meeting, though Draco had neglected to ever show up or let him in on a few of the designated nights. After all that Draco had done to him, it still felt like a betrayal to do other than exactly as he was told to. Harry doubted it was healthy to feel so disappointed in himself over this fact, but that didn't stop it from being so or the sensation of having his organs compressed unpleasantly together before being ripped out of place by a rake or something equivalent from taking the greatest part of his attention.
And I know you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you
(Died for you)
Oh what a shame, what a rainy ending given to a perfect day
What would the world do without Harry Potter, he asked himself later that day when the sobs wracked him but the tears were long-lost. Would they continue on without him as he was too cowardly to face the prospect of life without Draco? Would they hate him for doing the first selfish thing he'd ever done? Would they forgive him for not being there to help?
They would have to, and if they couldn't . . . well, he would never know.
Every smile you fake is so condescending
Was his life worth losing for Draco? Was he no good after all he'd been through? One smirk was all it took to throw him off-balance and reassure him he'd never be okay again, that he
was no good to anyone now. One infamous Malfoy smirk, followed closely by a roll of storm-grey eyes.
Counting all the scars you made
What difference did it make, two more scars that would never be because two wounds would never heal? Besides, he didn't need another scar. With this thought, he subconsciously rubbed at the one he'd been trying to live up to his entire life. Well, not anymore.
And now that I'm sitting here thinking it through
I've never been anywhere cold as you
Literal cold he could achieve, Harry was sure. After all, he'd heard that once the blood left the system and the heart stopped beating, one turned very, very chilly. And very, very dead. Life would be over, worries would be over, not being good enough would be over.
Harry was sure heaven was a place where even Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince, could love him.
DMxHP DMxHP DMxHP DMxHP
A/N: Review. Please? From the reviews I've gotten thus far I'm thinking of doing Draco's POV… What d'you all think? Make your requests and I'll see what I can do.