The Despair of Sacrifice
A Draco/Harry fic by Blue Roses
Harry POV
Summary:Harry contemlates his relationship with Draco, and the difficulties of loving a Malfoy. m/m *Slash* Harry/Draco.
A/N:I found this on my computer recently and finished it off. It's great to see the amount of H/D slash around here recently, so thanks to everyone who has inspired me.
*
I don't know what's playing on the radio right now. Something of the pop variety, I think, but I'm not really listening to it. It's mindless background noise, because without it I think my brain would tie itself into even more knots than it is now. The music just provides a distraction so there is less brain to be knotted up, I think.
That's the advantage of growing up with muggles, I suppose. There didn't seem to be many advantages when I was with the Dursleys, but I can see now that perhaps there were a few. Draco, and all the people who think that wizards should be pure blood, or that muggles are somehow stupid have got it all wrong. There are good and bad bits to both worlds. Personally I like the wizarding world much better, and if I had to choose between them I wouldn't have too much heartbreak, but since I don't, I can enjoy the best of both worlds, as the saying goes.
Draco. I look over at him now. He sits there as if he is oblivious to my presence, but I know he feels my look. He said once, when he was in a sweet mood, that he always knows when I look at him. Of course, he denied it the next time I brought it up, but that's just the way he is.
He does look over, once a suitable time has passed, and it will look like a casual gesture. He is never the first one to make a move, even a look is too much for him to deign to give me first.
Knowing his family, or at least knowing of his family, I have some insight into why he'd be scared of showing affection. I can't imagine his father ever encouraging it. That doesn't really explain anything, though. I was brought up with the Dursleys. I never even wanted to show them affection, and they definitely never showed any to me. Yet he is the one scarred and unable to risk showing that he cares. He had a family, who loved him in their own way, I'm sure, even if that love was only self serving. They loved what they wanted him to be, but it was still love.
I had love, but I don't remember it. Real love, self sacrificing love. Sometimes, secretly, when things are bad, when Draco is in one of his silent moods, and we've just had an argument and it feels like the world is too cold for me, I wish that she hadn't done what she did for me. I wish that my mother had let me die with her, so I would be wherever she is now, and I could feel loved.
Draco's love, when he shows it, which is not often, is a hard thing, something that I feel I have to work for. His love is a struggle for him and for me. I don't know if it is even worth it sometimes. So much effort, for what?
When it works, it's like magic. Believe me, I know magic, and it almost has the same feel. It's like the feeling of elation I got when Hagrid took me away from the Dursleys into a new world, combined with all the triumphs I have ever felt.
When it doesn't work, it is cold, lonelier than before, because I know what I'm missing this time, I can think of the times I was warm with love, and I think I will never feel them again.
Times like now I am in the middle. Not that there's a middle ground. All I mean is that I switch from one to the other, roller-coastering from joy to despair, depending on nothing. A glance can make me grin like a maniac to myself, but just the sight of his back facing me will send me into depression.
His face now is guaranteed to do the same. He's annoyed with me because of the radio. He's put up with it for long enough, and now he will get angry with me. I get up quickly and shut it off. I know how the argument will go, and I don't want that right now. I hate arguments with him, I always feel so utterly crushable. I feel so vulnerable that he can destroy me without knowing.
The radio is just a small thing, but I've learnt to give into more than that. I used to be proud, strong, a Griffindor. I've been told I'm a shadow of myself now. That's what I try to be. A shadow. If he notices me less then perhaps he will get less annoyed with me. I don't mean to be annoying.
I've even given up seeing my friends. Hermione will send me an owl now and then, Ron too sometimes, but it's easier if they don't. They don't seem to understand me any more, anyway. There used to be huge fights, when they would both come over and try and persuade me to leave. They didn't understand, they still don't. I want to be here. I can't be anywhere else any more.
I care about him, and if I have to stay here begging for scraps of emotion from him then I will do that to be with him. Pathetic, perhaps, but true. I love him. If that means that I have to change to be with him, then I will, because I know I'd never be able to change him.
Perhaps he likes this weak and spineless thing he has made of me, but somehow I don't think so. Even as I try to please him, to reshape myself to better suit him, I know that what I'm doing isn't what he wants. He liked the arguments, the ones that wore me down. That's how he learnt to communicate. It's the only way he can express his feelings. Now, when we talk, it's not about anything of consequence. I rarely complain any more.
I'm not unhappy, really. I know if I wasn't with him, that I would be much more unhappy than I am now. I'm just tired. I can't stand the pretence of being what I am not, and I'm worried that there is none of the really Harry Potter left, and I could never go back to being who I was. I'm worried that the boy who lived has finally been defeated as everyone thinks he has. I was saved by love, only to be destroyed by it.
Perhaps even more ironic, is that being in love does the opposite to Draco. Whereas I grow weaker, his barriers become stronger. My upbringing lead me to search for love, I think, whilst his taught him to guard from is, as it only hurt in the long run.
It would be almost funny, if I didn't have to live it.
My one consolation, my one victory, is that he is here with me, and I am here with him. Against all the advice, friendly or not, despite all the criticisms, and all the hatred. I have him. Whether or not our life is perfect, even if it is a living hell, I have won that at least, I have conquered those problems, and, although I feel it, I am not completely alone.
This is my choice. I may hate it sometimes, but it is mine and I would not change it. Because I love him, and nothing is too much of a sacrifice to have him here.
[END]
A Draco/Harry fic by Blue Roses
Harry POV
Summary:Harry contemlates his relationship with Draco, and the difficulties of loving a Malfoy. m/m *Slash* Harry/Draco.
A/N:I found this on my computer recently and finished it off. It's great to see the amount of H/D slash around here recently, so thanks to everyone who has inspired me.
*
I don't know what's playing on the radio right now. Something of the pop variety, I think, but I'm not really listening to it. It's mindless background noise, because without it I think my brain would tie itself into even more knots than it is now. The music just provides a distraction so there is less brain to be knotted up, I think.
That's the advantage of growing up with muggles, I suppose. There didn't seem to be many advantages when I was with the Dursleys, but I can see now that perhaps there were a few. Draco, and all the people who think that wizards should be pure blood, or that muggles are somehow stupid have got it all wrong. There are good and bad bits to both worlds. Personally I like the wizarding world much better, and if I had to choose between them I wouldn't have too much heartbreak, but since I don't, I can enjoy the best of both worlds, as the saying goes.
Draco. I look over at him now. He sits there as if he is oblivious to my presence, but I know he feels my look. He said once, when he was in a sweet mood, that he always knows when I look at him. Of course, he denied it the next time I brought it up, but that's just the way he is.
He does look over, once a suitable time has passed, and it will look like a casual gesture. He is never the first one to make a move, even a look is too much for him to deign to give me first.
Knowing his family, or at least knowing of his family, I have some insight into why he'd be scared of showing affection. I can't imagine his father ever encouraging it. That doesn't really explain anything, though. I was brought up with the Dursleys. I never even wanted to show them affection, and they definitely never showed any to me. Yet he is the one scarred and unable to risk showing that he cares. He had a family, who loved him in their own way, I'm sure, even if that love was only self serving. They loved what they wanted him to be, but it was still love.
I had love, but I don't remember it. Real love, self sacrificing love. Sometimes, secretly, when things are bad, when Draco is in one of his silent moods, and we've just had an argument and it feels like the world is too cold for me, I wish that she hadn't done what she did for me. I wish that my mother had let me die with her, so I would be wherever she is now, and I could feel loved.
Draco's love, when he shows it, which is not often, is a hard thing, something that I feel I have to work for. His love is a struggle for him and for me. I don't know if it is even worth it sometimes. So much effort, for what?
When it works, it's like magic. Believe me, I know magic, and it almost has the same feel. It's like the feeling of elation I got when Hagrid took me away from the Dursleys into a new world, combined with all the triumphs I have ever felt.
When it doesn't work, it is cold, lonelier than before, because I know what I'm missing this time, I can think of the times I was warm with love, and I think I will never feel them again.
Times like now I am in the middle. Not that there's a middle ground. All I mean is that I switch from one to the other, roller-coastering from joy to despair, depending on nothing. A glance can make me grin like a maniac to myself, but just the sight of his back facing me will send me into depression.
His face now is guaranteed to do the same. He's annoyed with me because of the radio. He's put up with it for long enough, and now he will get angry with me. I get up quickly and shut it off. I know how the argument will go, and I don't want that right now. I hate arguments with him, I always feel so utterly crushable. I feel so vulnerable that he can destroy me without knowing.
The radio is just a small thing, but I've learnt to give into more than that. I used to be proud, strong, a Griffindor. I've been told I'm a shadow of myself now. That's what I try to be. A shadow. If he notices me less then perhaps he will get less annoyed with me. I don't mean to be annoying.
I've even given up seeing my friends. Hermione will send me an owl now and then, Ron too sometimes, but it's easier if they don't. They don't seem to understand me any more, anyway. There used to be huge fights, when they would both come over and try and persuade me to leave. They didn't understand, they still don't. I want to be here. I can't be anywhere else any more.
I care about him, and if I have to stay here begging for scraps of emotion from him then I will do that to be with him. Pathetic, perhaps, but true. I love him. If that means that I have to change to be with him, then I will, because I know I'd never be able to change him.
Perhaps he likes this weak and spineless thing he has made of me, but somehow I don't think so. Even as I try to please him, to reshape myself to better suit him, I know that what I'm doing isn't what he wants. He liked the arguments, the ones that wore me down. That's how he learnt to communicate. It's the only way he can express his feelings. Now, when we talk, it's not about anything of consequence. I rarely complain any more.
I'm not unhappy, really. I know if I wasn't with him, that I would be much more unhappy than I am now. I'm just tired. I can't stand the pretence of being what I am not, and I'm worried that there is none of the really Harry Potter left, and I could never go back to being who I was. I'm worried that the boy who lived has finally been defeated as everyone thinks he has. I was saved by love, only to be destroyed by it.
Perhaps even more ironic, is that being in love does the opposite to Draco. Whereas I grow weaker, his barriers become stronger. My upbringing lead me to search for love, I think, whilst his taught him to guard from is, as it only hurt in the long run.
It would be almost funny, if I didn't have to live it.
My one consolation, my one victory, is that he is here with me, and I am here with him. Against all the advice, friendly or not, despite all the criticisms, and all the hatred. I have him. Whether or not our life is perfect, even if it is a living hell, I have won that at least, I have conquered those problems, and, although I feel it, I am not completely alone.
This is my choice. I may hate it sometimes, but it is mine and I would not change it. Because I love him, and nothing is too much of a sacrifice to have him here.
[END]