by star of david
Harry/Draco
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters in this story; they were created by the genius, JKRowling. I do own the plot.
SUMMARY: "I was never good at goodbye." Draco Malfoy breaks things off with a very resentful Harry Potter, fearful of the effects of the war on them. A song fic to Yellowcard's Firewater.
I was never good at goodbye.
I suck at dealing with losses. I never got to say goodbye to my parents before Voldemort killed them. I never said goodbye to Sirius before his cousin Bellatrix murdered him. I never said goodbye to Dumbledore before Snape hit him with the Killing Curse and he fell off the tower.
You sat me down on your four-poster to show me all the reasons I was wrong for you.
"I'm the son of a Death Eater, Harry," you told me.
"Yeah, I know," I replied matter-of-factly. It wasn't like it was a big secret -- everyone in the wizarding world knew Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater.
"I'm branded with the Mark," you persisted. You pulled up the sleeve of your robe to show me the ugly tattoo embedded in your skin.
"I know," I replied. It wasn't like I hadn't seen the Dark Mark on your arm before. In fact, I'd seen a lot more than your bare arm.
I knew what you were trying to do. I was trying to prevent it, avoid it, escape it. Like I said, I was never good at goodbye.
"Listen to me!" you shouted. Your gray eyes were alive with fire, and I got scared. I had never seen you like that. "You're going to get yourself killed if we keep this up. You're going to kill me too! Don't you get it?"
I kept silent and hung my head. I got it perfectly, thank you very much. I knew what we were risking. I thought you did too. But I saw it in your eyes at that moment, and I felt like a fool. I was blind. All along, I should've known...this wasn't your dream. It was mine.
"Don't you get it?" you shouted again.
"I get it, Draco," I replied firmly. I held my head high this time and looked straight into your eyes. No trace of love was visible in them. It was as if I had merely imagined the love burning during the two and a half years we'd been together. Your eyes were filled with fear.
"He's done Legilimency on you, hasn't he?" I asked.
You nodded and fell onto your bed. "I couldn't stop him," you moaned. "I couldn't keep him from invading my mind...He's seen everything, Harry! He knows everything about you, about us!" Your tone was quite hysterical by then.
"So...you're ending us...to save me?" I asked.
You kept silent.
I looked at you, and the first thing I saw were your eyes. Damn it all, why did I always look at your eyes first? I tried looking at you with all the hatred I could muster, so the brain in my head could forget your face. I tried telling myself that you were nothing but a fucking coward, and you didn't deserve an ounce of my affection. Blast-Ended Skrewts are easier to love than Draco Malfoy, I told myself.
But I couldn't convince myself. With every insult I could think of, a memory of us would suddenly run through my mind, convincing me otherwise.
"So...this is goodbye, then," you said, finally breaking the silence.
I lunged and kissed you, putting all my emotions into the kiss. It would be the last, who knew if and when I'd kiss another being again? I love you, Draco, I tried to tell you with the kiss. I wrapped my arms around your neck as you kissed me back. You're a fucking coward, but I love you anyway.
I broke the kiss just as abruptly as I'd started it. You looked taken aback.
"Don't say it, Draco," I said, getting up from your bed. "I was never good at goodbye."
Hiding myself under the Invisibility Cloak, I made my way silently out of the Slytherin dungeons.
I was, from the very beginning, practically worshipped by people I didn't know. They loved and adored me for doing something I couldn't even remember. They venerated me for surviving and losing people I loved in the process. My whole life before Hogwarts, I'd known nothing but cruelty. Sleeping under the staircase, deprived of proper food and clothing, victimized by verbal abuse and psychological and physical torture...
You, Draco Malfoy, were the finest thing to happen to a boy like me.
After two and a half years, my feet knew the way without my eyes telling them where to go. I was back in Gryffindor Tower. I gave the Fat Lady the password and walked silently into the circular dormitory. I lay myself down on my four-poster, taking the Cloak off and throwing it unceremoniously on the floor.
"That you, Harry?" Ron's voice came from the right side of my bed.
"Yeah, I'm back," I replied.
"How'd it go?"
"It's over, Ron." My own voice sounded alien to me.
"You OK, mate?" I guess it sounded alien to Ron too.
"Yeah. You go back to sleep."
A few minutes passed before I heard Ron's snores again.
I lay quietly in bed. I won't be sleeping much tonight, I concluded. I ran my right hand on the empty space beside me, the space where you used to stay when you spent the night. It's not the same without you lying by my side.