New Lights, a harry potter fanfic

Extended Summary:

Harry is used to the universe toying with him and being an overall bitch. He's used to sudden deaths (it's inevitable), false accusations (he doesn't get paid enough for it), and assassination attempts by the DADA teacher (really, where was the originality?).

So watching Draco Malfoy revealing that they were in a relationship in the most Malfoy way possible?

Please. He saw it coming from a mile away.

"Fuck off, Weasley!" the blond retorted back, ignoring the outraged expression on Hermione's face. "I'm checking on my boyfriend and for the love of Merlin stop yelling, you're gonna give him a headache!" the blonde turned back to the emerald-eyed boy with a look of concern. "Are you okay, love? Do you want Father to sue the train?"

God, he needed a cup of coffee (or something stronger, that would do as well).

Or:

I make a story based on a meme because, why not?

(To be clear, it's the "Is it true you fainted? I mean you actually fainted?" Drarry meme.)

[Posted on Wattpad and Archive Of Our Own as well, under the same name, if you're more comfortable reading it there.]

Notes:

Good Day, Mortals.

I'm aware that I should probably be updating Answering Eternity right about now but, I've been in hell recently. The hell of myself and I wanted a comfort fic.

But, my mind (for some reason) refused to stop nagging me to post this fic (based on a Drarry meme) and nothing that I would do would get it to shut up.

So, here we are.

Yes, I'm weird. What else is new?

Hope this helps you deal with this hurricane that we call life.

If it can.

Without further ado.

Let's begin.

[❝I keep it all inside because I'd rather the pain destroy me than everyone else.❞]

The scent of thunderstorms filled the air, suffocating the lungs of people who dared to breathe.

The sky of the Great Hall never failed to astound the millions of people that saw it.

For unlike everything else in the world, its sole purpose wasn't to tear one's heart out of their chest as one mourned over the loss of faith in humanity.

It was too devious to do something so common, so mundane.

No, its sole purpose was to throw a veil of illusion over one's head making one believe that the world wasn't a goddammed horror show.

Today was no different. The storm raging above was in equal parts—mesmerizing and terrifying.

It was a mixture of lightning and thunder, frightening but ever so magnificent and the wind was like an orphan, lost and in search of a purpose.

When they met it was a collision of two catastrophes; dangerous it was, chaos and destruction but, nobody realized it.

For chaos could be so beautiful, ever so addicting.

And it could make one forget that destruction was inevitable when two storms collide.

And honestly? It was not something Harry wanted to deal with especially, not now.

His head pounded; intense ebullitions of pain reverberated into a disoriented, muffled blur. Clammy, shaking hands desperately grasped onto whatever they could find to stabilize himself, his breathing was ragged and erratic.

He wanted to calm his restless mind. Escape the millions of burdens that weighed so heavily on his small shoulders. He wanted a place of solitude, far away from those who were mourning the casualties of war. He wanted to feel some semblance of peace. He wanted the scattered thoughts in his head to make some sort of coherent sense. The wanted to do something so that the ugly feelings in his heart wouldn't slowly eat him alive.

So, no. He really couldn't bring himself to care about anything right now.

He just wanted (needed) to close his eyes and try—really fucking try—to feel his mother wrap his arms around him, petting his hair, tell him that he was going to be all right (❝Don't be afraid, my little boy. Mummy's got you.❞) even it's a lie.

That his father would tell him that he's proud of him, that he shouldn't be afraid (❝Don't you worry champ, Daddy's gonna chase those bastards away.❞) even though he's terrified.

But of course, (like everything else in his miserable life) it's just an illusion, and when he opens his eyes, his mother and father—

(Mum and Dad, he remembers, and back in the cupboard when he still resented them for leaving him and thought they were drunks he had so desperately wanted to forget. But he doesn't anymore. God, no. He wants to remember.)

—aren't there. They never are.

So, as he trudged into the Great Hall that morning (after hardly getting any sleep at all), he was not captivated by the tempestuous storm the ceiling was currently displaying (he hardly noticed it), he did not spare a glance to the stalkers erm, fans that were watching his every move (he could hardly care less to be disturbed right now).

Heck, he didn't even notice that Hagrid—Rubeus Hagrid—was winning a chess match against Professor McGonagall (actually winning!).

Instead, he was preoccupied with recalling the fact that the Dementors had been launching themselves at him like unmarried women at a handsome bachelor. It was not a happy recollection.

He flopped himself onto the bench of the Griffindor Table, mood gloomy and with an intense urge to drink a cup of coffee (it was the only one that understood other than his bed, of course).

Now look, the students of Hogwarts weren't afraid of much well, besides He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (Call him Voldemort, for Merlin's sake!). They had had trolls, werewolves, Deatheaters, they had Snape for god's sake!

So, they believed weren't afraid of much.

They were mistaken.

For, anybody who looked at Harry today immediately wished they hadn't; one glance at the raven-haired boy's thundering expression was enough to send them running out of their seats. Even the Gryffindors were having a hard time trying not to bolt.

It was a mixture of Snape and McGonagall's glare with a hint of Voldemort's (He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named) insanity.

Immediately, the school started making bets on how long it would take Harry to defeat Voldemort with his glare alone.

So, basically, everyone was doing their own thing:

Harry was stabbing his eggs viciously, trying (half-heartedly) to convince himself not to murder everyone in the vicinity.

Hermione was ranting about 'his need to sleep and not bottle everything up like he always did.'

Ron was shifting between stuffing his plate with food and giving him sympathetic glances.

The twins were trying to create pranks that would cheer their little brother up (because Harry was part of the family, damnit).

Dumbledore was wondering whether he should put his beard into a french braid or not.

McGonagall was trying desperately not to cry at the fact that she had lost to Hagrid, at chess.

Hagrid was wondering if McGonagall was hurt because she was scrunching up her face real tight. (Yer sure yer okay?)

Snape (initially) had been trying to set Lupin and Harry on fire with his glare alone but, one glance at the dark-haired boy had made him decide to just glare at the former, instead (the boy's gaze was scary, dammit and he had served the Dark Lord).

Remus Lupin was wondering which chocolate to have (Cholocate Frogs or Bertie Bots?). It was an incredibly important choice.

And the rest of the school was being their annoying selves.

So, it was only natural that that's when it happened.

It had started normally enough.

Hedwig had flown down to Harry but, this time instead of asking for bacon she gently played with his hair in an attempt to comfort him. She also pecked at anyone within a five-mile radius who she deemed as a threat, which surprise, surprise, included everyone except Fred and George (they made her chick laugh), Hagrid (he brought her chick to her), Ron (he understood her completely reasonable love for bacon), Hermione (she tried to keep her chick out of trouble), and that was it.

Well, almost it.

The last person on the exception list walked through the doors (dramatically) at that very moment.

Blond hair—that was so pale that it was almost white—was nowhere near its pristine state the person frantically searched the Hall. Sharp silver eyes lit up when they landed on the person that they were searching for; the person in question being none other than Harry Potter.

Uneven steps burdened the boy's helpless, frantic movements as he hurriedly scrambled towards the Gryffindors' table, nearly tripping over his feet as he did so.

Draco Malfoy ignored the outraged gasps and shocks as he slid next to the emerald-eyed boy, pushing Weasley out of the way as he did so.

"I had to check for myself," he murmured.

Everyone in the Great Hall didn't dare breathe in fear that it would disrupt the moment. One thought was prominent in everybody's mind. What did he have to check?

Nimble, long fingers gently tilted Harry's chin up. "Baby, is it true that you fainted? I mean, you actually fainted?" the blond spoke in a worried tone.

Nearly everyone fell off their seats at the endearment and the ones' who didn't fell off at the worried tone. After all, it was widely known that Draco Malfoy cared about no one well, until now that is.

"Well, I—" the green-eyed boy began to reply, only to be interrupted by his best friend, Ron.

"Shove off Malfoy!" the boy shouted, his face turning as red as his hair. "It's not like you care anyway and besides," he added as an afterthought. "Harry doesn't need this right now." Behind him, Hermione nodded along in agreement as did the other Gryffindors.

"I'm not sure you can sue a train Draco," Harry said wryly, speaking for the first time (the two words he had spoken before Ron interrupted him did not count, thank you very much).

"I can't." the pale boy admitted. "But father can," he finished with a smirk. "So, what do you say?" he asked, looking pleadingly at his partner.

"Draco," Harry sighed. "As sweet as that is, it isn't the train's fault that I—erm, fainted," he said, flushing in embarrassment at the memory.

"It isn't?" the blond asked, eyes narrowed.

"No," Harry confirmed. "It isn't."

"Well, then whose fault is it? You don't faint like that without a good reason," sharp silver eyes scanned the room as though trying to find someone who he could blame for his boyfriend's unconscious.

"It was the Dementors. One of them—" Harry began only to be cut off again but, this time it was by Draco.

"Dementors?" the blond screeched, outraged. "What were Dementors doing so close to you? Did they hurt you?" he asked frantically, as his hands inspected his most precious treasure (Harry).

"No! Well, they did almost but—" he was cut off again.

"What do you mean by 'almost'?" Draco demanded.

"For Merlin's sake—will you let me finish?" Harry growled, at the end of his patience. At Draco's 'almost not-pout' and nod, he continued. "Like I was saying, a dementor entered our department and almost kissed me," at the look on Draco's face he added hurriedly. "almost because, Professor Lupin stopped him by doing a —what was it called, oh yeah—Patronus."

Silver eyes landed on the mentioned professor. "Thank you," he muttered, genuinely grateful. "The House Of Malfoy will forever be in your debt." everyone—bar Harry and Draco and Snape—couldn't help the sharp intake of breath, none more so than Remus.

"It was nothing—" He began, only to be cut off.

"It wasn't nothing," the blond shouted. "You saved Harry which is more than can be said for Dumbledore," he said, glaring at the twinkly-eyed man.

Draco quickly turned back to his boyfriend, grabbing his small hand in his. "Don't worry, love. I'll have Father contact the Minster immediately," he said in a consoling tone, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand.

"That really isn't necessary Draco," Harry said but, internally he was flattered.

"Of course, it is!" the blond retorted, vehemently, giving him an I'm-gonna-kill-the-Dursleys-for-making-you-think-otherwise look. "Out of all the stupid, idiotic, moronic they could have done. Dementors! Honestly," he muttered.

Then suddenly as though an epiphany had struck him the blond stared at his boyfriend sternly. "You did eat chocolate after the encounter, didn't you?"

"Yes, Draco." Harry couldn't help but sigh exasperatedly. "I did."

"Which ones?"

"Um, Honeydukes?" Harry responded confused.

"Not good enough," the blond declared firmly. "Come on," he said gently tugging Harry up. "I have a couple of chocolates from France that should help. They're in my dorm."

"You really don't have to," Harry replied.

"I know," the blond agreed easily. "But I want to," he said, making the dark-haired boy blush, lightly.

"Alright," Harry mock sighed. "As long as Hedwig can come too," he added looking at the said owl in conformation.

"Of course," Draco said, hurriedly. He had no intention of being pecked to death, after all. Hedwig preened at the response.

"Wait a damn second," Ron spoke up, finally having gotten his spluttering under control. "Is no one gonna mention—" he broke off for a second, "Harry and Malfoy? Together?"

"Yes, Weasley," Draco drawled. "We're together. Whoopee. Hurrah. Hallelujah. Whatever."

"But how—?"

"It's quite simple really. When two people fall in love they generally date—" Draco started drily, only to be cut off by Ron.

"No, I mean. Since, when?"

"Last year."

"When in last year?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Because—ugh! You're such a git!"

"Weasley, I'm not sure if you noticed but, I'm a human, not a mirror."

"Why you!"

"Enough," the blond said sternly. "As entertaining as this might have been, I have a boyfriend to pamper." with that statement, he grasped Harry's hand and gently tugged him out of the hall, Hedwig flying after them.

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore's voice cut through the stunned silence of the Great Hall, "I should definitely put it in a french braid."

And with that statement, everybody's fuse blew.

Down in the Slytherin common rooms, two people cuddled each other.

"Draco," Harry said lightly as he snuggled into the blond's chest. "You do know, you just revealed us, right?"

"Yup," was the only reply he got as the older boy played with his dark messy curls.

"You planned this out, didn't you?" Harry said, pouting adorably.

"I have not the slightest idea of what you're talking about," the blond said, blankly.

"You're evil, you know that?" Harry said, Ron's outraged expression coming to mind.

Draco looked at his boyfriend, taking in every detail: Messy, black curls bounced every time Harry moved. The light in of the dorm kissed his caramel skin and adorable freckled face that fitted well with his large eyes of jade pools, it made him look angelic (Merlin knew he was). Pinky, plushy lips anyone could just devour. His long eyelashes fluttered like butterflies when he blinked.

"Only for you precious, only for you."

As he watched Harry blush a pretty pink and snuggle further into his chest, he wondered what he had done to deserve such a treasure. What luck did he have to be able to kiss the most gorgeous, bright, smart, and powerful wizard that could possibly exist?

All I can hope, he thought as he pulled a blanket over the two of them (they were not going to attend classes today, he wouldn't allow it). That it never runs out.

Because Draco wasn't planning on letting him go.

It didn't matter if he would have to battle Voldemort himself—there was no way he was ever going to let this boy go. This gorgeous, vivacious, sassy, creature with a heart as pure and gentle as a Threstral and as adorably curious as a Niffler was all his and he was going to make sure that the whole damn world knew that.

The moment anyone tried to touch as much as one messy curl—they would suffer.

If they made a single comment about Harry—he would rip their tounges out and shove them down their throats.

He would murder every single last person on this earth, would set everything alight in flames, would rip his own heart out of his chest if it meant that Harry was safe.

The Dementors, Durseleys', and Dumbledore had tried to take Harry away from him and they had failed—and they would always fail as long as Draco Malfoy walked the Earth.

The minister would pay for ordering the Dementors to surround Hogwarts—Draco would make sure of that.

Sirius Black wouldn't even glance at Harry because if he did, Draco would gladly gouge the man's eyes out.

Harry was his; always had been his and he would make that sure by the time the curtain edges grew light tomorrow, everybody would know it.

But for now, he welcomed the darkness and allowed himself to be swept up into Morpheus's realm where Harry currently was.

He needed energy, after all.

There were a lot of new lights that needed to be hung tomorrow.

[❝You are my blue crayon, the one I never have enough of, the one I use to color my sky.❞]

Welp, that's it.

The ending was slightly unhinged though...

So, much for a complete fluff fic.

I lost control of the story in the end if that's what you're wondering.

And to be clear the last line "...there were a lot of new lights that needed to be hung up..." is a metaphor, okay?

It means that Draco is going to have to put up a lot of new things.

So, don't get the wrong idea.

I hope you still enjoyed it though (if you could).

Comfort fics are like heaven on earth for me so, II hope this could give you a sliver of that (despite, the slightly unhinged ending).

Well, I need a cup of coffee.

Sending Hugs and Cuddles.

Sincerely, Me.