Summer Solace
June 11, 2003 Type: Harry Potter, D/H Rated: PG for romance and angst 3rd POV, focus on Draco
*I do not own, or claim to own any of these characters!! It's all J.K.R.'s-I'm just playing in her world. ~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes it hurts so much to be changed unwillingly. Or-perhaps Draco was willing that night when he expected nothing more than the humid summer air to calm his nerves. In any case, he hadn't expected to be met by anyone; but surprises can be all the more deceiving in the darkness of starlight.
Anxiety shook him out of his slumber late one night full of rustling leaves and a breeze that made the window casement whistle. Draco lay awake in his satin sheets, staring blankly at the red drapes that cloaked him within his four-poster bed. Something made him restless, and he failed to put a finger on it.
His hair was disheveled and he knew it, but did not care as he idly rubbed his bare stomach with his fingertips. His legs were getting longer, compared to his first year at Hogwarts, and faint light made his eyes seem bluer-but he was in no position to know that. He kicked the sheets off himself and dug his elbows into the mattress in an attempt to make himself comfortable. Sleep had left him lonesome that night.
Crabbe and Goyle slept soundly in the beds on the other side of the room, disgusting him with their groaning dreams. He hoped they were in separate beds, sarcastically, hating the thought of someone else hogging all the company. For so long he had his lackeys to be his following, always beside him faithfully; but where was the feeling? Love was something he had never known, most certainly not from his parents. Being an only child would help that, one would think, but his cruel, indifferent father had business to look after, and his mother had her beauty to attend to. Shipping him off to school was a relief to them, one more tick off their backs to worry about.
Every night was spent solitary in his mind, mulling over and over again what it might be like to break his paranoia. He had no true friends, he knew that thoroughly, and wondered what it would feel like to hold another's hand, to laugh wholeheartedly, and fall asleep happy for once. His hands lay lifeless at his sides, as sorry and worthless as he, himself, felt. Tears welled in his lashes, salty as any other human's tears, but bitter with angst and despair. What made his life so susceptible to unfairness? Why were his dreams always shot down by this aching behind his eyes? Where was his haven?
What a crappy teenage cry for help, he thought, referring to the tales he heard of muggle children these days. He pushed his shoulder blades against the wooden headboard that stood cool and solid behind him, forcing his torso to sit up. He sighed heavily, startled by the pleasant dance of his breath across his chest and stomach. It made him realize how warm it really was inside, even down in the dungeons. His fingers crawled across his hip bone, settling with boredom just within the waistband of his boxer shorts. He needed out of this hell hole.
He dressed quickly, not bothering with excessive robes, for it was muggy outside, probably worse than it felt to him right now, and hoped that being outside would lull him to a restful state. He did not bother with his hair, no more than slicking it back a bit roughly before heading through the small window of his room. It was a tight squeeze, and high, but by standing on his dresser he could make it in and out easily.
Standing at the edge of the lake was peaceful and something Draco never took the time to do. Simple things seemed petty to people like him, people who were expected to be selfish and domineering in every action they made and every word they spoke. Shadows drifted over the small waves made by the breeze, faint in the quarter-moon's luster. His hair was blown into his eyes, teasing his sight and making him see a silhouette across the waters. Being frightened for a moment, he briskly made his way to the shade of a large tree not a far distance away. The darkness, he knew, could at least hide him from a real person, but not his own insecurities.
Embraced by the darkened tendrils of night, he waited as the figure gradually made it's way toward his disguise. Closer and closer it came, taking on the form of another male, his own age, and with unruly hair. A certain boy came into sight and no longer made the silhouette a mystery. It was now nothing more than an annoyance.
"What do you want?" Draco spat his words at his feet as it came within close range. Harry looked nothing more than embarrassed and flustered, standing still and staring blankly ahead as he realized who he was with.
"What are you doing here?" Harry's eyes went back into focus as he felt the words come from his own mouth, drenched in sweet disgust. His fists clenched involuntarily at the sight of his nemesis before him.
"You were the one who came after me," the blond boy reminded him, a glint of slyness in his gaze. Silence settled between them and the lake. Nothing dared make a sound, other than the lapping of water against the shore. Harry looked out to the distance, hoping something would change for the better. The wind ceased, encasing them with an uncomfortable breath that stayed stagnant. "'You thinking what I'm thinking?" Draco's voice asked meekly.
Harry turned back to his companion and saw Malfoy in the darkness, staring out at the Forbidden Forest as he was. There was something sad in his eyes, something hopeless clawing at the surface of his irises that was refused release.
"No," Harry grunted, determined not to let this villain get the best of him. Curiosity, however, was stronger than pride. "What were you thinking?" His voice was kept quiet, so as to disguise the fact that he truly pined to know. The breeze played with his hair, revealing his scar from time to time.
Malfoy cleared his throat and sat on the ground, at the base of the tree that stretched its branches above the water's edge. Little bits of nightshade peered from between lumps of root around his seat; his eyes never wavered from the dazzling display of restless water.
Harry took note and, after a moment's thought, sat beside him, tossing aside the assumptions anyone else would make in a situation like that. Together they shared the noise of nature, indifferent to each other until that constant lull of waves and rustling of grasses was broken with a human voice.
"My parents are my problem. I guess it's the same for you," Malfoy chided, "Only the lack thereof." A smile had slipped onto his lips, following his self satisfaction. He was immediately sorry, though, but knew no appropriate way to express it.
Harry's cheeks grew red and hot; the grass wilted at his very touch between his fingers that dug into the earth.
Changing the subject was so much easier than apologizing, it seemed. Those blue eyes grew dull and empty. "I was thinking about walking into this lake tonight," Draco confided, his voice low and strained. "But the thing that stopped me was that no matter how dead I made myself, I'd still be their property." His spite was as empty as his heart, crying inside because tears could do him no justice. "Blood is thicker than water."
"But not as thick as peanut butter," Harry said, thinking of how Ron may have handled it similarly, with wit. Tension melted between them. The fact that Harry could disregard all that animosity and cruelty for one moment was a true grace in Draco's eyes. He was instantly wrought with sorrow for this boy and with pity for himself.
How could he have allowed this? Was he not a mighty Malfoy, pure- blooded and royal? All that no longer mattered here, on the grass where they were equal in the eyes of the moon and her starlight children. Under this sky, no man exceeds another.
Balmy air was now evident around them as body heat became a strange blanket thrust over them. An iron hand of guilt clutched the heart that beat within that royal chest, compelling him to say something.
Harry's lips seized his own, mid-sentence, and Malfoy's eyes grew wide. Feeling was replaced in his gut and his heart beat quickly, as if with fear, as they continued to kiss. The warm lips receded, replacing themselves with hot breath and that could not be allowed; with a hand behind Harry's head, he pulled that sweet mouth back and responded passionately, staying as gentle as possible.
This time, Draco was not the one taken aback. A small sound escaped the dark-haired boy's throat before he was engulfed in comfort and sensation. He let his own hand creep up against Malfoy's chest and feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. A genuine pulse resided beneath the tough armor that was presented daily to him, and for that he was thankful.
What was this comfort? What was this equilibrium of love and hate, selfishness and selflessness? Tears finally poured out Draco's eyes, falling reluctantly between the two. Wonder mixed with the feeling that it was too good to be true, that there was no way in hell that anyone, especially the one boy he was sworn to hatred with, would be kissing him and handling him so gingerly. He made not a sound of desperation for moments until his sobs grew and forced Harry to break the bond.
"What? What is it?" Harry was frightened something had hurt him. Draco still cradled the boy's head as those compassionate words were spoken; he was determined to keep contact with their foreheads, if nothing else. Overwhelmed and sweating, Harry held him, enveloping him in his arms, feeling tears soak through to his skin. For only a few minutes did the blond-headed boy shudder with rocking gasps between tears, until he finally settled and relaxed.
Slumped against the tree trunk, Harry sat with Malfoy lying on top of him, breathing regularly. He pressed gently for an explanation, but there was none.
For a while, Harry thought he had fallen asleep, but soon enough the other had sat upright and was staring him in the eye. His tears had dried and his face was not even swollen; he was in all ways beautiful.
Not a word was uttered in response to the soft kiss that was laid clumsily on Harry's lips slowly and cautiously beneath that broad tree. He smiled gently and nodded slightly as blue eyes still looked through his own to his very soul that resided within.
"It's late," Malfoy said with disappointment. He stood slowly, helping the other rise as well. He took a few steps away and turned back for a final look into green eyes for the night.
"I was, Draco," Harry confessed, shrugging idly, loving the sound of that name for once.
"You were what?" His eyebrows furrowed.
"Thinking the same thing," Harry grinned, licking his lips. Draco nodded with a grin of his own, looking down at his feet with embarrassment and satisfaction.
"Good night, Harry," he whispered, knowing that the complications of tonight could wait until tomorrow. Harry was startled by hearing his first name and not 'Potter' being spat as it usually was. But, he thought to himself, it was something that he could get used to.
The warm summer wind ushered them both inside to await another meeting under the watchful eye of the moon and all the stars who gathered. Another time would come, they were sure-and the inviting breeze would be solace for restless minds once again.
June 11, 2003 Type: Harry Potter, D/H Rated: PG for romance and angst 3rd POV, focus on Draco
*I do not own, or claim to own any of these characters!! It's all J.K.R.'s-I'm just playing in her world. ~~~~~~~~~~~
Sometimes it hurts so much to be changed unwillingly. Or-perhaps Draco was willing that night when he expected nothing more than the humid summer air to calm his nerves. In any case, he hadn't expected to be met by anyone; but surprises can be all the more deceiving in the darkness of starlight.
Anxiety shook him out of his slumber late one night full of rustling leaves and a breeze that made the window casement whistle. Draco lay awake in his satin sheets, staring blankly at the red drapes that cloaked him within his four-poster bed. Something made him restless, and he failed to put a finger on it.
His hair was disheveled and he knew it, but did not care as he idly rubbed his bare stomach with his fingertips. His legs were getting longer, compared to his first year at Hogwarts, and faint light made his eyes seem bluer-but he was in no position to know that. He kicked the sheets off himself and dug his elbows into the mattress in an attempt to make himself comfortable. Sleep had left him lonesome that night.
Crabbe and Goyle slept soundly in the beds on the other side of the room, disgusting him with their groaning dreams. He hoped they were in separate beds, sarcastically, hating the thought of someone else hogging all the company. For so long he had his lackeys to be his following, always beside him faithfully; but where was the feeling? Love was something he had never known, most certainly not from his parents. Being an only child would help that, one would think, but his cruel, indifferent father had business to look after, and his mother had her beauty to attend to. Shipping him off to school was a relief to them, one more tick off their backs to worry about.
Every night was spent solitary in his mind, mulling over and over again what it might be like to break his paranoia. He had no true friends, he knew that thoroughly, and wondered what it would feel like to hold another's hand, to laugh wholeheartedly, and fall asleep happy for once. His hands lay lifeless at his sides, as sorry and worthless as he, himself, felt. Tears welled in his lashes, salty as any other human's tears, but bitter with angst and despair. What made his life so susceptible to unfairness? Why were his dreams always shot down by this aching behind his eyes? Where was his haven?
What a crappy teenage cry for help, he thought, referring to the tales he heard of muggle children these days. He pushed his shoulder blades against the wooden headboard that stood cool and solid behind him, forcing his torso to sit up. He sighed heavily, startled by the pleasant dance of his breath across his chest and stomach. It made him realize how warm it really was inside, even down in the dungeons. His fingers crawled across his hip bone, settling with boredom just within the waistband of his boxer shorts. He needed out of this hell hole.
He dressed quickly, not bothering with excessive robes, for it was muggy outside, probably worse than it felt to him right now, and hoped that being outside would lull him to a restful state. He did not bother with his hair, no more than slicking it back a bit roughly before heading through the small window of his room. It was a tight squeeze, and high, but by standing on his dresser he could make it in and out easily.
Standing at the edge of the lake was peaceful and something Draco never took the time to do. Simple things seemed petty to people like him, people who were expected to be selfish and domineering in every action they made and every word they spoke. Shadows drifted over the small waves made by the breeze, faint in the quarter-moon's luster. His hair was blown into his eyes, teasing his sight and making him see a silhouette across the waters. Being frightened for a moment, he briskly made his way to the shade of a large tree not a far distance away. The darkness, he knew, could at least hide him from a real person, but not his own insecurities.
Embraced by the darkened tendrils of night, he waited as the figure gradually made it's way toward his disguise. Closer and closer it came, taking on the form of another male, his own age, and with unruly hair. A certain boy came into sight and no longer made the silhouette a mystery. It was now nothing more than an annoyance.
"What do you want?" Draco spat his words at his feet as it came within close range. Harry looked nothing more than embarrassed and flustered, standing still and staring blankly ahead as he realized who he was with.
"What are you doing here?" Harry's eyes went back into focus as he felt the words come from his own mouth, drenched in sweet disgust. His fists clenched involuntarily at the sight of his nemesis before him.
"You were the one who came after me," the blond boy reminded him, a glint of slyness in his gaze. Silence settled between them and the lake. Nothing dared make a sound, other than the lapping of water against the shore. Harry looked out to the distance, hoping something would change for the better. The wind ceased, encasing them with an uncomfortable breath that stayed stagnant. "'You thinking what I'm thinking?" Draco's voice asked meekly.
Harry turned back to his companion and saw Malfoy in the darkness, staring out at the Forbidden Forest as he was. There was something sad in his eyes, something hopeless clawing at the surface of his irises that was refused release.
"No," Harry grunted, determined not to let this villain get the best of him. Curiosity, however, was stronger than pride. "What were you thinking?" His voice was kept quiet, so as to disguise the fact that he truly pined to know. The breeze played with his hair, revealing his scar from time to time.
Malfoy cleared his throat and sat on the ground, at the base of the tree that stretched its branches above the water's edge. Little bits of nightshade peered from between lumps of root around his seat; his eyes never wavered from the dazzling display of restless water.
Harry took note and, after a moment's thought, sat beside him, tossing aside the assumptions anyone else would make in a situation like that. Together they shared the noise of nature, indifferent to each other until that constant lull of waves and rustling of grasses was broken with a human voice.
"My parents are my problem. I guess it's the same for you," Malfoy chided, "Only the lack thereof." A smile had slipped onto his lips, following his self satisfaction. He was immediately sorry, though, but knew no appropriate way to express it.
Harry's cheeks grew red and hot; the grass wilted at his very touch between his fingers that dug into the earth.
Changing the subject was so much easier than apologizing, it seemed. Those blue eyes grew dull and empty. "I was thinking about walking into this lake tonight," Draco confided, his voice low and strained. "But the thing that stopped me was that no matter how dead I made myself, I'd still be their property." His spite was as empty as his heart, crying inside because tears could do him no justice. "Blood is thicker than water."
"But not as thick as peanut butter," Harry said, thinking of how Ron may have handled it similarly, with wit. Tension melted between them. The fact that Harry could disregard all that animosity and cruelty for one moment was a true grace in Draco's eyes. He was instantly wrought with sorrow for this boy and with pity for himself.
How could he have allowed this? Was he not a mighty Malfoy, pure- blooded and royal? All that no longer mattered here, on the grass where they were equal in the eyes of the moon and her starlight children. Under this sky, no man exceeds another.
Balmy air was now evident around them as body heat became a strange blanket thrust over them. An iron hand of guilt clutched the heart that beat within that royal chest, compelling him to say something.
Harry's lips seized his own, mid-sentence, and Malfoy's eyes grew wide. Feeling was replaced in his gut and his heart beat quickly, as if with fear, as they continued to kiss. The warm lips receded, replacing themselves with hot breath and that could not be allowed; with a hand behind Harry's head, he pulled that sweet mouth back and responded passionately, staying as gentle as possible.
This time, Draco was not the one taken aback. A small sound escaped the dark-haired boy's throat before he was engulfed in comfort and sensation. He let his own hand creep up against Malfoy's chest and feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. A genuine pulse resided beneath the tough armor that was presented daily to him, and for that he was thankful.
What was this comfort? What was this equilibrium of love and hate, selfishness and selflessness? Tears finally poured out Draco's eyes, falling reluctantly between the two. Wonder mixed with the feeling that it was too good to be true, that there was no way in hell that anyone, especially the one boy he was sworn to hatred with, would be kissing him and handling him so gingerly. He made not a sound of desperation for moments until his sobs grew and forced Harry to break the bond.
"What? What is it?" Harry was frightened something had hurt him. Draco still cradled the boy's head as those compassionate words were spoken; he was determined to keep contact with their foreheads, if nothing else. Overwhelmed and sweating, Harry held him, enveloping him in his arms, feeling tears soak through to his skin. For only a few minutes did the blond-headed boy shudder with rocking gasps between tears, until he finally settled and relaxed.
Slumped against the tree trunk, Harry sat with Malfoy lying on top of him, breathing regularly. He pressed gently for an explanation, but there was none.
For a while, Harry thought he had fallen asleep, but soon enough the other had sat upright and was staring him in the eye. His tears had dried and his face was not even swollen; he was in all ways beautiful.
Not a word was uttered in response to the soft kiss that was laid clumsily on Harry's lips slowly and cautiously beneath that broad tree. He smiled gently and nodded slightly as blue eyes still looked through his own to his very soul that resided within.
"It's late," Malfoy said with disappointment. He stood slowly, helping the other rise as well. He took a few steps away and turned back for a final look into green eyes for the night.
"I was, Draco," Harry confessed, shrugging idly, loving the sound of that name for once.
"You were what?" His eyebrows furrowed.
"Thinking the same thing," Harry grinned, licking his lips. Draco nodded with a grin of his own, looking down at his feet with embarrassment and satisfaction.
"Good night, Harry," he whispered, knowing that the complications of tonight could wait until tomorrow. Harry was startled by hearing his first name and not 'Potter' being spat as it usually was. But, he thought to himself, it was something that he could get used to.
The warm summer wind ushered them both inside to await another meeting under the watchful eye of the moon and all the stars who gathered. Another time would come, they were sure-and the inviting breeze would be solace for restless minds once again.