You Jump, I jump
Written by StrawberryGirl87
Hogwarts no longer feels like home, it is time to move on but Harry has nowhere else to go. Standing on the precipice of uncertainty he finds a helping hand from the most unlikely of people. Someone who is willing to stand by his side when things seem bleak.
Chapter Two
The first stop for the endlessly travelling teenagers at the beginning of their boundless journey together was uninspiringly the Leaky Cauldron. To set out on an unplanned and un-plotted adventure like this they would need funds. Sadly Gringotts would not open until morning at the very earliest. Even though neither wanted to be seen in Diagon Alley they had no choice. Harry wasn't even sure that Gringotts would welcome him back after his last visit but he had to try.
The rain continued to hammer down endlessly upon the roof of the old London pub and the thunder rumbling ominously overhead suited their sombre moods. Though having the company of each other felt wondrously normal and much preferable to being alone. Silence seemed comfortable between them as they entered their small room with twin beds and shut the door, closing themselves off to the world and finding peace in the small space they were to share for the night.
"I think I'm going to shower," Harry said decisively, his tone quiet and calm, Draco nodded as he settled down on one of the small single beds. There was barely half a meter of space between them, the sheets were old and well used but that wouldn't matter. It was at least somewhere to sleep for what remained of the night.
Harry was grateful for the shower. Hot water cascaded down on to his broken skin, making the still open wounds sting terribly. The rain already having washed much of the dirt and blood away. His limbs ached with the effort of continued movement. His muscles burned every time he took a step or raised his arms. His entire body felt as if it were crashing. He needed to shut down for a few hours. As much as Harry would have wanted to remain under the jets of steaming water for hours, allowing the grime and vivid recollections of the war wash away down the drain he just didn't have the strength to remain there. He barely had the strength to remain on his feet at all.
Leaving the bathroom with a towel clutched around his waist and feeling subconscious about his lack of clothing and wanting to hide his body from view he hovered uncertainly in the threshold between the bathroom and bedroom. "I'm sorry," Harry said shyly, keeping his head bowed in shame "I don't have any …" He trailed off helplessly. Draco understood at once and rummaged in his backpack for some spare pyjamas.
"You can borrow these," Draco said as he handed them over. Harry smiled at him appreciatively before scurrying back into the bathroom to dress without first checking what he had been given. Draco had provided some boxer shorts and drawstring pyjama trousers but that was all. Harry was of course grateful of these items, they were clean and fit him well, a luxury he had foregone while on his endless camping trip with Ron and Hermione. He had never noticed that he and Draco were almost the same size, both a little too skinny for their age. It was the lacking of a t-shirt or anything to cover his upper body that worried Harry.
He felt stupid to feel this embarrassed when he had walked out in only a towel a second ago but that had been to retrieve clothing and that had been difficult enough. Looking himself in the mirror he disgusted himself. Scars marred his entire body but nowhere more than his torso, arms and neck. Thin white scars stretched across his olive skin, a large gash down his right side, various marks where curses had made contact with him. Then there were the ones that hadn't become scars yet. The freshly cut wounds, grazes across his upper chest, scratches across his abdomen. There were also bruises in various stages of healing too, some purple and blue, others green and yellow, all of them clearly distinguishable on his too thin frame. His body was as broken and damaged as his soul.
Turning away from the mirror, unable to stand the sight of himself any longer he broke down, tears streaming down his cheeks as his legs finally gave way and he crumpled to the floor, useless and exhausted.
At the resounding crash his body made as it came into contact with the tiled bathroom floor Draco came running in. Unlocking the door with a wave of his wand and taking in the scene before him. Harry was curled up on the floor, his knees tucked under his chin, tears streaming from his eyes. His arms that were wrapped tightly around his legs were marred with bruises and cuts. Injuries caused over the last year of constant running and fighting, never resting, always paranoid. It pained him to see the damage that had been inflicted on one person in a never ending tirade of abuse.
Draco had never seen Harry this closely before, or this undressed. Now that he was fresh from the shower the scars, wounds and bruising that he had suffered throughout the course of the war were clearer than ever. Kneeling down before him he took in the broken hero, his heart breaking at the sight of the once strong Golden boy shattering so completely before him.
"Harry …" He said tentatively, "Will you talk to me?" Draco asked pleadingly, finding that he had the overwhelming urge to help and to attempt to fix the boy-who-lived, even to protect him from anything that might try to hurt him further.
"I shouldn't be here," Harry said in whispered words, to hear him say them made Draco fall back, hurt.
"We could always go back," The blonde said softly, his heart heavy. At first running from Hogwarts alone had been the most comforting thought he had but now that they had embarked on this journey together Draco wasn't sure that he could do on without Harry a constant presence at his side. They needed each other, he was sure of it, they needed to be strong for one another so that they both survived. The war had only been the first emotional hurdle to survive, it was the aftermath that scared him the most, dealing with the things they had seen, the things they had been forced to do. This was the beginning of an entirely new struggle.
"I don't want to go back," The Gryffindor responded sadly, "I don't mean that I shouldn't be here in this room with you, I mean I shouldn't be alive." So much pain echoed in his voice, the sorrow ripping through the other boy as if it were a blade. To hear Harry speak so plainly and so honestly cut him to the core.
Draco moved so that he could sit beside Harry, both leaning against the wall, the hard tile uncomfortable to sit on but neither cared for numb bums when the pain in their hearts was so intense that it was hard to bear. "You're too strong to die, too loved." Draco responded as he reached his hand forward and offered it to the Gryffindor who had turned to look at his companion with watery green eyes. Uncurling one arm from himself he took the other boys hand within his own, the comfort of human contact not lost on either of them.
"He killed me," Harry said, this would be the first and last time he spoke about what had happened in the forest that night. He needed to tell someone, just one person and then he needed to lock it away and never think about it again because the thoughts and the feelings that came with that memory were too much to cope with. "There was a part of Voldemort inside of me. It was my job to walk silently and calmly into deaths embrace and let it take me."
"But if he killed you …" Draco said breathlessly. Their voices were so quite they were barely whispers, as if to speak about it at any higher a volume would destroy the illusion of contentment that they created sat in their tiny bathroom, hands joined desperately as if their lives depended on that small amount of contact between them.
"He killed the part of me that was him," Harry said, "When the killing curse hit me, I went to a place of limbo and I was given a choice … I could have gone on to whatever comes next."
"But you chose to come back," Draco finished for him and Harry nodded sadly. A moment of silent contemplation fell between them before Draco spoke again, "You made the right choice," He said, "I'm not sure of much but I'm sure of that."
Whenever the silence fell they could still hear the storm raging outside, the rain pouring down in its attempts to wash away the last remnants of battle, the thunder roaring with the victory they had claimed. Tomorrow life would resume as if it had never happened for so many people but he would never forget. His mind would never let him for whenever he closed his eyes he would see all of those that he loved that had died. Their sacrifice for him and for the war. All the people he would miss dearly.
"Do not pity the dead," Harry said softly, remembering the words that Dumbledore had spoken to him when they had met at Kings Cross, Harry's place of limbo, "Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love." Draco looked to him questioningly, "Dumbledore said it to me before I came back," Harry explained, "He told me that my soul was once again my own too."
"That's good isn't it?" Draco asked, "That your soul is your own?"
"I don't know," Harry said as he wiped the tears away with his free hand. "I've never been free of him, Voldemort always was a part of me ever since the first time he tried to kill me. I don't know who I am without him."
"Then we'll find out … together," Harry turned to look at Draco and gave him a weak, watery smile and a small nod.
"Together," Harry echoed giving the other teens hand a small squeeze, tilting his head to rest it upon his shoulder.
"Maybe you should rest, have you slept at all since he died?"
"No," Harry said weakly, "I'm scared too."
"Why are you scared?" Draco asked as he lent his head against Harry's.
"The nightmares, every time I close my eyes I see everyone who died, I don't want to go to sleep to relive the battle … I can't do it, I'm not strong enough." Harry said desperately, but even as he said it he could feel how heavy his eye lids felt. Being so close to Draco, the warmth of his body, the comfort of having tender human contact was just too much.
"How about I make you a promise," Draco suggested. "You let yourself fall asleep and I promise to watch over you and wake you up if you have a nightmare, I won't leave your side."
It was with reluctance that Harry finally agreed. With Draco's promise of not to leave his side while he slept they helped each other from the bathroom into the small, dingy bedroom with it's cracked walls and well slept in beds. Harry took the bed on the left and Draco the one to the right. There was so little space between the two that they didn't need to let each other go, which was a good thing because Harry needed something solid to hold on to out of fear that if he let go he would lose his grip on this reality.
They lay on their own beds, hands still joined, their heads turned to stare at each other. Draco watched Harry intently as he fought sleep, desperate to stay in the conscious world, afraid of what the unconscious one would bring. Finally thick dark lashes closed, ghosting against his cheeks, the worries and the sadness faded from his face and yet still Draco continued to look at him. Studying every curve and line on his face.
His eyes finally came to rest upon the lightning scar that sat upon his forehead, as deep and noticeable as it ever was, a constant reminder of his past, who he was, what he had done. Harry would never escape that. Draco kept his promise, watching over Harry as he slept. He never once moved, finding himself satisfied to lay with his hand still joined to Harry's and memorize every scar, every frown even the cracks in his chapped lips.