A/N: WARNING: This contains some SLASH material.
Ha! Now that you have been warned, you can only blame yourself for getting offended.
Disconnected
The wind felt cool and comforting on his face. Harry soared over the Quiddich pitch, searching with monotonous care for a glimmer of something. He was in his element. The air was balmy but fresh, peaceful; the night was altogether perfect, with the exception of another presence. Harry squinted through the darkness. A voice called out, breaking the calm even breaths of the breeze and the soft rush of wind by his ears.
"There it is"
The voice was a lazy, drawling liquid. But cut through the calm indifferently.
The speck of white-blonde came looming from the shadow of the sky.
The eyes were expressionless, as they always were. Without fear, pain, joy.
"It's gone into the bloody forest."
Harry turned to face the border of trees. Mothering their patches of darkness. Clinging.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy glide gracefully towards it. And he joined the movement. United- the one time when their goals were similar. The only time- Quiddich. As seekers for their teams, they had been asked to retrieve the rogue snitch, after a particularly frustrating game, which culminated in a disappointing tie- both teams being too tired to continue into the night.
Snitches were expensive you know.
Snitches were worth something.
And so they had been asked to search together. Together was a word that Harry always dissociated with Draco. He was a solitary thing. Without dependence on other forces, or so it seemed. Harry was fascinated by this. Was he untouchable? Was he a reality?
It was doubtful. Was he a dream?
He was a perfection.
The moon was dull behind a light mist. The two figures flew above the black forest, their cloaks camouflaging, but billowing out behind them, so that their skin was set white against their robes. Draco refused to look round at Harry.
His life was here tonight. He was sure. This is what it was. Not that show he put on for others…Here, with himself, he was real; he was comfortable. But always it slipped away…
There is no self;
No existence.
But just in thought,
And depth of thought.
I see myself
Slipping.
I feel myself
Slipping into
Two worlds timeless.
Space, perception,
Blurred and confused,
And timeless.
When I wake from one
I see the other,
And the first is doubtful.
Reality is all: forget,
And turn away.
Dose off.
Seal all paths of return
Until there is questioning;
Fear, and maybe
It's not real, just
Thoughts again.
Thoughts of there own.
Then insecurity.
Fear, deep in fear.
Fear fills all and
Eclipses the senses.
Forget again the story I once knew
So secure, well
Clearly. Gone from view-
Not gone at all;
Just hidden for now.
Draco swerved suddenly as he nearly hit a branch. Snap out of it. Don't look round.
He looked round. He could never disappoint temptation.
Harry was one with the forest. He was natural…Draco (anyone) could see that. Harry was…he was…alive. He was always there, walking in on Draco's thoughts. Driving him slowly insane. What was it about that mudblood-lover that made everyone devoted to him? Harry was selfless. But not in the way that he was himself. Draco had always been selfless- but for a different reason. He didn't care about himself- how could he love himself, when he was empty. Of course most people thought to the contrary. Draco liked giving that impression. It was so much easier to hide behind that strong, dramatic façade than to stand in the middle of the balance. Draco had never been one to stand in the middle of the balance. He was much like his father in that way; extravagant.
But that is what fascinated him about Harry. He was not extravagant, yet still held a unique sort of power over others. Was he untouchable? Was he a reality? Draco was fascinated…
Draco could never love. He could never love himself- so how could anyone else ever love him. Love was an empty shell, just like him.
Snap out of it.
He began to search again for the snitch.
The jolt in his stomach made him aware of himself- and the snitch. He cast the usual glance at Harry, to find him also starting to accelerate. He always stole that glance when he spotted the snitch.
Draco was closer, but he could hear the other boy gathering speed behind him. Damn him. Damn that blasted Potter for always being there to challenge him. Damn him.
Draco could feel the adrenaline pumping through him. Damn.
The air rushed around him. He could hear Harry behind him. Damn him.
He could see Harry beside him. DAMN THAT POTTER.
Before he could stop himself, with his left hand, he pushed Harry.
Harry gasped as he fell.
"Damn" Draco said weakly, clutching the fighting snitch.
"I won" He whispered to the air.
He felt cold.
Dropping into the clearing where Harry fell, he spotted a figure- collapsed.
"I won"- He was answered with a long groan.
Draco suddenly shook himself.
He ran over to the injured Harry. He's not dead. He's not dead!
"Harry?"
Harry groaned again.
"I'm sorry"
This made Harry look up. In Harry's eyes, Draco could see amazement and shock. In Draco's eyes, Harry could see pain and worry.
Was Draco worried about him? He had never seen Draco look anything but…well, Draco. And now…he saw worry in those grey eyes.
"My arm" Harry gasped in a hoarse voice.
Draco drew out his wand and held it to Harry's chest, letting the snitch flutter away into the forest.
"Wuh?"
Draco ignored him and began to mutter.
"What are you doing to me?"
Harry felt a surge of power run through him, pouring from the contact of the wand. The pain grew harsher and more acute…until Draco ripped away the wand and the pain was no more.
Harry's head was hung.
There was silence.
Draco crouched over him, still housing that worried expression. When Harry didn't move, Draco gingerly touched his cheek, and tilted Harry's face up.
There were tears. Harry's emerald eyes were misted and somehow more beautiful. And Harry didn't flinch. They were there, both of them touching, and neither of them broke that contact.
Draco curved his pale hand around Harry's upper arm and pulled him into a sitting position.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine" Harry replied, wiping away the tears. "You pushed me."
Draco looked away, although he did not remove the contact.
Harry looked at the other boy. This was it. This was the answer to why Draco didn't have a soul…He DID have a soul.
The realisation burned through Harry. He was suddenly awake with a fierce heat.
"I HATE you Malfoy" And with that, Harry grabbed Draco's shoulder's and thrust him backwards onto the cold, harsh ground, landing on top of him and meeting his lips with unexpected passion.
Draco gasped and allowed the other boy to kiss him, parting his own lips. They delved deeper. They were almost trying to engulf each other. His back was damp and cold and aching- but none of this was acknowledged in the fervour. Harry heard Draco moan into him.
Draco recognised that his eyes were shut tightly, and opened them. He pulled away.
Harry was staring, hungry and eager. But his eyes were now streaming.
Draco lifted his hand, and tenderly brushed away a tear. Harry caught it, and laced it with his own, whilst gently pulling him closer, so that their faces almost met. Draco drooped his arms around Harry's neck, and pulled their lips together once again. But softly. Everything was soft and warm- just a trace of tongue.
Harry tasted salty from the tears. Draco's hands slid down his back and pulled them closer. Harry tensed.
What am I doing? A remote part of Draco's brain was slapping him. But something else was urging him on.
Draco felt the warmth of alien fingers running through his hair. Their kiss deepened. Still soft. Still frustratingly slow.
Passion built up in Harry- he was dizzy with it. Draco's hair was fine and silky…and he was not untouchable. Harry began to slide off Draco's cloak. Disciplined at first...then a tug or two.
What am I doing? The voice again in Draco's head.
"What am I doing" He pulled away abruptly. Stared like a terrified fawn at Harry. And breathless, stumbled up, and ran into the forest.
"Wait!…I'm sorry!"
Draco didn't stop…and was soon invisible to Harry.
He kept running. The forest tried to drag him back, the branches clawed and bit at his skin.
What happened?
The kiss. Harry had kissed him.
He had pulled away. He had run.
Why was that? Why was anything?
He stopped. He knew. "I am empty" He whispered, breathless.
"I AM EMPTY"
That, he was; an empty being. Trapped? Free?
No. No. Disconnected.
Ha! Now that you have been warned, you can only blame yourself for getting offended.
Disconnected
The wind felt cool and comforting on his face. Harry soared over the Quiddich pitch, searching with monotonous care for a glimmer of something. He was in his element. The air was balmy but fresh, peaceful; the night was altogether perfect, with the exception of another presence. Harry squinted through the darkness. A voice called out, breaking the calm even breaths of the breeze and the soft rush of wind by his ears.
"There it is"
The voice was a lazy, drawling liquid. But cut through the calm indifferently.
The speck of white-blonde came looming from the shadow of the sky.
The eyes were expressionless, as they always were. Without fear, pain, joy.
"It's gone into the bloody forest."
Harry turned to face the border of trees. Mothering their patches of darkness. Clinging.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy glide gracefully towards it. And he joined the movement. United- the one time when their goals were similar. The only time- Quiddich. As seekers for their teams, they had been asked to retrieve the rogue snitch, after a particularly frustrating game, which culminated in a disappointing tie- both teams being too tired to continue into the night.
Snitches were expensive you know.
Snitches were worth something.
And so they had been asked to search together. Together was a word that Harry always dissociated with Draco. He was a solitary thing. Without dependence on other forces, or so it seemed. Harry was fascinated by this. Was he untouchable? Was he a reality?
It was doubtful. Was he a dream?
He was a perfection.
The moon was dull behind a light mist. The two figures flew above the black forest, their cloaks camouflaging, but billowing out behind them, so that their skin was set white against their robes. Draco refused to look round at Harry.
His life was here tonight. He was sure. This is what it was. Not that show he put on for others…Here, with himself, he was real; he was comfortable. But always it slipped away…
There is no self;
No existence.
But just in thought,
And depth of thought.
I see myself
Slipping.
I feel myself
Slipping into
Two worlds timeless.
Space, perception,
Blurred and confused,
And timeless.
When I wake from one
I see the other,
And the first is doubtful.
Reality is all: forget,
And turn away.
Dose off.
Seal all paths of return
Until there is questioning;
Fear, and maybe
It's not real, just
Thoughts again.
Thoughts of there own.
Then insecurity.
Fear, deep in fear.
Fear fills all and
Eclipses the senses.
Forget again the story I once knew
So secure, well
Clearly. Gone from view-
Not gone at all;
Just hidden for now.
Draco swerved suddenly as he nearly hit a branch. Snap out of it. Don't look round.
He looked round. He could never disappoint temptation.
Harry was one with the forest. He was natural…Draco (anyone) could see that. Harry was…he was…alive. He was always there, walking in on Draco's thoughts. Driving him slowly insane. What was it about that mudblood-lover that made everyone devoted to him? Harry was selfless. But not in the way that he was himself. Draco had always been selfless- but for a different reason. He didn't care about himself- how could he love himself, when he was empty. Of course most people thought to the contrary. Draco liked giving that impression. It was so much easier to hide behind that strong, dramatic façade than to stand in the middle of the balance. Draco had never been one to stand in the middle of the balance. He was much like his father in that way; extravagant.
But that is what fascinated him about Harry. He was not extravagant, yet still held a unique sort of power over others. Was he untouchable? Was he a reality? Draco was fascinated…
Draco could never love. He could never love himself- so how could anyone else ever love him. Love was an empty shell, just like him.
Snap out of it.
He began to search again for the snitch.
The jolt in his stomach made him aware of himself- and the snitch. He cast the usual glance at Harry, to find him also starting to accelerate. He always stole that glance when he spotted the snitch.
Draco was closer, but he could hear the other boy gathering speed behind him. Damn him. Damn that blasted Potter for always being there to challenge him. Damn him.
Draco could feel the adrenaline pumping through him. Damn.
The air rushed around him. He could hear Harry behind him. Damn him.
He could see Harry beside him. DAMN THAT POTTER.
Before he could stop himself, with his left hand, he pushed Harry.
Harry gasped as he fell.
"Damn" Draco said weakly, clutching the fighting snitch.
"I won" He whispered to the air.
He felt cold.
Dropping into the clearing where Harry fell, he spotted a figure- collapsed.
"I won"- He was answered with a long groan.
Draco suddenly shook himself.
He ran over to the injured Harry. He's not dead. He's not dead!
"Harry?"
Harry groaned again.
"I'm sorry"
This made Harry look up. In Harry's eyes, Draco could see amazement and shock. In Draco's eyes, Harry could see pain and worry.
Was Draco worried about him? He had never seen Draco look anything but…well, Draco. And now…he saw worry in those grey eyes.
"My arm" Harry gasped in a hoarse voice.
Draco drew out his wand and held it to Harry's chest, letting the snitch flutter away into the forest.
"Wuh?"
Draco ignored him and began to mutter.
"What are you doing to me?"
Harry felt a surge of power run through him, pouring from the contact of the wand. The pain grew harsher and more acute…until Draco ripped away the wand and the pain was no more.
Harry's head was hung.
There was silence.
Draco crouched over him, still housing that worried expression. When Harry didn't move, Draco gingerly touched his cheek, and tilted Harry's face up.
There were tears. Harry's emerald eyes were misted and somehow more beautiful. And Harry didn't flinch. They were there, both of them touching, and neither of them broke that contact.
Draco curved his pale hand around Harry's upper arm and pulled him into a sitting position.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine" Harry replied, wiping away the tears. "You pushed me."
Draco looked away, although he did not remove the contact.
Harry looked at the other boy. This was it. This was the answer to why Draco didn't have a soul…He DID have a soul.
The realisation burned through Harry. He was suddenly awake with a fierce heat.
"I HATE you Malfoy" And with that, Harry grabbed Draco's shoulder's and thrust him backwards onto the cold, harsh ground, landing on top of him and meeting his lips with unexpected passion.
Draco gasped and allowed the other boy to kiss him, parting his own lips. They delved deeper. They were almost trying to engulf each other. His back was damp and cold and aching- but none of this was acknowledged in the fervour. Harry heard Draco moan into him.
Draco recognised that his eyes were shut tightly, and opened them. He pulled away.
Harry was staring, hungry and eager. But his eyes were now streaming.
Draco lifted his hand, and tenderly brushed away a tear. Harry caught it, and laced it with his own, whilst gently pulling him closer, so that their faces almost met. Draco drooped his arms around Harry's neck, and pulled their lips together once again. But softly. Everything was soft and warm- just a trace of tongue.
Harry tasted salty from the tears. Draco's hands slid down his back and pulled them closer. Harry tensed.
What am I doing? A remote part of Draco's brain was slapping him. But something else was urging him on.
Draco felt the warmth of alien fingers running through his hair. Their kiss deepened. Still soft. Still frustratingly slow.
Passion built up in Harry- he was dizzy with it. Draco's hair was fine and silky…and he was not untouchable. Harry began to slide off Draco's cloak. Disciplined at first...then a tug or two.
What am I doing? The voice again in Draco's head.
"What am I doing" He pulled away abruptly. Stared like a terrified fawn at Harry. And breathless, stumbled up, and ran into the forest.
"Wait!…I'm sorry!"
Draco didn't stop…and was soon invisible to Harry.
He kept running. The forest tried to drag him back, the branches clawed and bit at his skin.
What happened?
The kiss. Harry had kissed him.
He had pulled away. He had run.
Why was that? Why was anything?
He stopped. He knew. "I am empty" He whispered, breathless.
"I AM EMPTY"
That, he was; an empty being. Trapped? Free?
No. No. Disconnected.