I'm back with a new chapter. I really like this one. Let me know what you think.
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Frostbites
by
Sad Wednesday

Chapter 2 : Sunspots

How long have I been in this storm
So overwhelmed by the oceans shapeless form
Water's getting harder to tread
With these waves crashing over my head

The sun was rising slowly, sliding in view somewhere far east. Its warm colours spred to the naked sky like a little drop of paint to a wet sheet of paper.

Harry was staring at it, staring at it for so long that his eyes started to burn from pain, staring at the dazzling light until it was the only thing he could see. The sensation seemed to soothe Harry, to make him feel a little bit more tuned to the world, more a part of it somehow. It was just him in the middle of everything, floating without a body - without that body that had never been fast enough, clever enough, strong enough... -, only his thoughts flowing through the pure burning light.

For a while, Harry let himself indulge with the thought of being completely blind. He would be a totally different person then, with a totally different life. He'd probably live among the muggles, go to a special school, but lead an otherwise normal life. A normal life... Jesus, even the thought of it seemed ridiculous, so far away, out of his reach.

Sometimes thinking about how some of the smallest things could have changed his life so much, made him so angry he felt his heart rise up to his throat, wanting to choke him.

Sometimes thinking about his parents... That was the worse there could be. It made him feel all cold and dull inside, as if his stomach was filled with stones, pressing him down.

That is why he tried his best never to think about these things, or even better, to restrain from thinking at all.

'You're late.' came a voice, gliding into Harry's consciousness, flowing through it silently and calmingly like a sweet, old memory. Harry turned his face from the sun. Everything was nothing but blinding white and stinging yellow; incinerated formless figures rolled across Harry's purview, his cheeks wet from the water from his eyes. The world had melted into a mess of quaking liquid.

'You are early.' Harry replied and tried to focus his eyes on something.

'I'm here.' Suddenly that soft, quiet voice was right next to him, ringing in his ears in one tender chord. Feeble warmth of another human body traveled into Harry's own, melting his aching fingers and heating his lips now tinted with blue. All this felt like downing a mug of steaming cocoa. Thin fingers reached out to caress Harry's cheek, wiping away the frosted water; Harry leaned in to the touch allowing that wonderful warmth run through him, reviving him, pushing his blood on the move again. And once more, Harry was alive. He wasn't just a shell filled with feverish thoughts, cold stone and avoidance. Blood rushed forward in his veins, his heart pounded against his ribs and he knew how to breathe.

'It's a beautiful morning.' Harry finally muttered with unmistakable sarcasm in his voice. The hand disappeared and Harry opened his eyes drawn closed involuntarily a moment ago. His vision was back.

Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, too close for it to look like a meeting between two friends or aqcuaintances, or - in this case - two enemies.

Indeed, someone could have seen them, standing there leaning into each other in between the last lingering shadows of the night and the first rays of morning, intertwined with the autumn mist, for no one in the Hogwarts soil slept their nights soundly.

Draco was beautiful and pale - not that all of them wouldn't be pale -, but Dracos palety was of such nature only obtained through heritage; aristocratic and soft. Not that damp, musty shade of grey the others carried. And all this class and grace was Harrys. Draco was his. A small smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth.

'Don't look at me like that.' Draco suddenly said as the silence grew too oppressive to bear. His gaze averted to the ground.

'Like what?'

'Like... Like I'm just an object, a painting or something that people stare without really seeing it. You do it all the time.' Draco said slowly, carefully considering every word. Harry felt like bursting into laughter

'And? I can stop looking at you for good, if you like.' Harry stated placidly and shoved his now almost insensible fingers deeper into the pockets of his cloak. Draco seemed - if possible - to grow even paler at this, as if Harry had just noted he wanted to slice Draco's throat. Not a completely bad idea at all, Harry pondered, a snow-white porcelain angel choking on its own sticky blood.

'Stop it.' Draco said quickly as if quessing what Harry was thinking about and before Harry had the chance to ask anything, Draco leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Harry's cold lips. Harry wanted to protest this sudden gesture, his hands hidden inside the cloak twitched wanting to shove Draco away. He hated when things like this happened; he hated not being in control. Draco soughed silently against Harrys mouth and pulled away, his eyes opened lazily and focused on Harry. Icy twirls mixed with stormy grey danced together in concordance in Draco's eyes, veiling many ugly and bleak memories of the past, yet nursing hundreds of hopeful, bashful wishes about the future - so frail one wouldn't dare to utter them aloud - and that spark.

That spark that must have been the thing which pushed Draco forwards. Harry wondered if maybe some of those things were also visible in his eyes. Could somebody interpret the most secret places inside his head by just taking a look at him, at his eyes? Did he also... Did he also possess that spark? Those same frighteningly fragile hopes? He wasn't quite sure he wanted to have those things inside him, let alone someone being able to point them out.

'I missed you.' Draco whispered, breaking Harry's line of thought. Harry allowed a small smile invade his lips.

'I recall seeing you just yesterday.'

'You know what I mean.' Draco snapped resentfully and flinched away. Yes, Harry did know what Draco meant.

'Sure. But before I freeze to death would you tell me why I had to drag myself all the way out here in the middle of the night? A hero needs his beautysleep, you know.'

Draco snorted arrogantly.

'Ah, yes. You do sleep so soundly and calmly, don't you now?' Dracos face twisted into a malicious sneer. Harry felt his muscles tense in a heartbeat, his hands clenched into two white-knuckled fists; he hated that stupid expression on Draco's face. That self-satisfied, condescending smirk which spread across the boys face, taking Harry back to the years of school a lifetime ago. Harry wanted to raise his hand and slap Draco straight in the face, to mutilate his concise features into formless flesh.

But he didn't, instead he just stared at Draco for a while, waiting. Soon Draco's expression faltered, Harry's eyes seemed to drill their way through straight into his skull.

'I just wanted to see you. I'm - ' Draco abruptly cut himself off.

lonely. The word sounded strange even inside his head.

Lonely in this huge castle where people sidestep me in the hallways and don't look me in the eye.

But of course, he would never tell that to Harry.

'You're what? A pompous little asshole, maybe?' Harry offered.

Draco didn't bother to answer, it was always like this with Harry. Clever insults thrown from all directions, evil smiles and sometimes even hatred shining through Harry's eyes normally carefully veiled with indifference. Draco knew Harry didn't care for him the same way he did for him. It wasn't love for christ sakes, of course not, but it was something and that something made Draco feel more alive he'd felt for years, even before this awful war.

'Whatever turns you on.' Draco answered. Harry gave a dry laugh and fixed his eyes in the distance.

Harry was so mean and cruel nowadays. He wasn't that annoying, upright Gryffindor like he'd been, during those first golden years in Hogwarts. Everything had been so much easier back then, Draco used to know who he was. Or more like who his father wanted him to be. He didn't mind, it was easier like that; hearing father's voice in his own, feeling father's quick, determined pace under his own feet. He was just like his father, and when it was all that he'd ever wanted to be, then why complain? He wouldn't have even know how to complain, and what about? For being the offspring of the most respected, wealthy families around? Even though at times he felt his mask slipping, like a loose end on a knitting, just waiting for that one last little tug to make it unwind. Even though he sometimes found himself looking at the mirror, shaken by his own face. Besides those accidental events, he had been pretty happy about his life. He knew his part inside out, he knew how to behave around people; swift, cruel comments came flying from his lips as if learned by heart but also curtious nods, maybe even a small smile for those carefully hand-picked individuals. He had a certain social position arranged for everyone in his life, oh it was so easy back then. He knew how to be around... How to be around Harry. Harry Potter - the arrogant, scrawny little kid who refused his hand on the train, Harry Potter - the awkward-looking for-eyes who made it to the Quidditch team on his first year, Harry Potter - the goddamn golden boy of Dumbledore, of Hogwarts, of the entire wizarding world. And what exactly had he done to achieve all that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Lied in a crib in some corner of some dodgy room, cried and screamed, didn't die from the most deadly unforgettable performed by the most deadly wizard around. Yes, that's what he'd done. He hadn't died. And people loved him for it.

But it didn't matter to Draco anymore, not like it used to. There was no hate left in him. It all had disappeared, as if someone had snapped their fingers and whispered the magic word in the darkness. And now he was at loss with himself. After his father disowned him... It had all been nothing but confusion, followed by Harry.

'Well, you've seen me now, right?' Harry said suddenly, his eyes still somewhere far away. He once again gripped the pendant's cool surface and tugged the chain, feeling the quick pain come and go like a wave breaking against the shore. Harry turned his gaze and seeing Draco with an unnervingly morose look on his face, continued with a hint of warmth in his voice. 'Let's go inside.'

Harry grasped Draco's shoulder and leaned in, pressing a small kiss on Draco's cool forehead. Draco seemed to melt under Harry's tender touch - these occasions were rare - and breathed in Harry's scent; old tobacco, dust and something sweetly bitter; firewhisky maybe. Harry stepped back and looked over his shoulder, in east. The sun was already half out; orange, yellow, red and gold played together in harmony, spreading their shades across the sky like a pair of stretching arms, reaching further and further. A new day was on its way.

'Harry?' Dracos voice awaked Harry from his thoughts. 'Lets go.'