Warnings: Harry/Draco slash ensues as well as a touch of angst and maybe OOC-ness. I'm not sure.
A/n: After a long one and a half year hiatus in this pairing, this is the only time I'd ever written a slash fic HP fandom that I may one day be read without any wince. So... enjoy.
Disclaimer: Copyright Infringement is not intended. What I don't own, I don't own. What I do, I do.
Dedications:
Claudia— Thanks so much for the inspiration! You rock my world and make all the bitches go away with just your presence and optimism. And no, we can't make a slash pairing Jowie and Denmarc because they're supposedly our boys.
Angie—Luv ya for proofreading!!! Thanks for the chat when I was stuck in that island for three days without any internet access.
Ayasafae—(I have no idea how to spell your name right) Thanks for making my stay in said island a really memorable one. Besides my being bitten by a ridiculously large ant and falling into the space between the tombs of the cemetery and tripping on a rock, you seemed to have stood out and... made an impression on me, inspired me to write a CSI slash fic. (nick+greg forever) Kiddo, don't throw my perfume laced handkerchief away, grow up unspoiled by society's acidic rage and please turn your attention towards somebody your age.
Jen— We need to talk. Tomorrow's our monthsary yet you're still not speaking to me.
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And Yet Hope Isby Shace
"Hope is not pretending that there's never any sorrow."
"The graduation ceremony begins in a minute." His voice was steady, devoid of any real emotion and measured around the edges but nonetheless despite the lack of keenness, his voice cut a sharp knife through Draco Malfoy's train of thought, that for a fleeting moment the young aristocrat forgot to breathe.
But when Harry Potter moved from behind Draco and stood next to him so that they were beneath the shade of the whomping willow now peaceful in its slumber, everything seemed perfect and Draco almost thought that everything had fallen into place with Harry just standing there enough to touch but not actually touching.
And just his warmth — the tangible presence next to him — was enough to make his heart flutter in his chest. But Draco dismissed the thought, because even if he did feel comfortable with this thing going on between himself and Harry, he knew there were too many risks to involve any feelings at all. He was surprised at himself, if not irked, that he felt anything at all.
"You look so lost, Malfoy." Harry said once more, in the same even tone. "What seems to be the matter?"
Draco raised his chin, regarded the boy next to him with narrowed grey eyes — a practiced scowl — and scoffed. He knew he shouldn't be keeping up the pretense, feigning loathing towards the Gryffindor youth when there away no one in sight because in actuality even if there had been anyone all that really mattered was the scrawny, emerald eyed raven haired teen next to him.
And Draco blamed himself for that because once before he had tried to win Harry over as a friend and failed. And it wasn't even that they hadn't had the chance to get acquainted properly from the beginning ever since that incident in the train.
It was the fact that he made it a point to let everybody else know that from day one — or at least since Harry rejected his proffered friendship — he despised the Gryffindor seeker. And it wasn't just very petty like the name calling games schoolboys would play or the usual bullying or teasing, it came to a point when Draco actually went out of his way to make Harry's stay at Hogwarts a horrible one, more times than the toes on his feet could count.
Draco knew he was crossing the line then, but ever since all he really wanted was the famous Harry Potter's approval even if he'd never admit it out loud — never mind his father's because all he ever got from the man was criticism and rejection — because since he was little he'd always heard about wonderful stories of the Boy Who Lived, albeit obscured by the hatred of his father.
Draco crossed his arms at Harry. They had been standing on the school grounds and the post-spring breeze billowed their finely tailored robes in a fashion that seemed almost heartbreaking and final, heralding a feeling of resignation something Draco would not readily admit.
Everybody else was inside the castle so that the grounds were clean of any eavesdroppers or an audience that may overhear or oversee Harry and Draco's conversation.
"My matters don't concern you, Potter." Draco said in that icy tone of his and for a second he regretted that because Harry was standing so damned close the young Malfoy was almost claustrophobic and faintly getting a whiff of Harry's sweet smelling cologne and the moment he said that, Harry's eyes clouded briefly beneath his glasses, face falling as he looked at Draco with cheerless eyes.
"Potter…" Draco began again, failing. And then, "Potter… please." Draco was startled by his own despondency but continued nonetheless. "Stay away from me if you know what's good for you. What we had, what we did is over. You said it yourself before, 'it's just a long standing fling'. What? You actually thought I loved you or something? Don't be pathetic. Oh, wait. You are."
The young Malfoy was brought up by the severe hand of Lucius Malfoy and all he ever did learn was pain and the father's thirst for power and supremacy and now that he was actually saying those very words he thanked every god he knew of because it took so much willpower to push the only thing that ever mattered to him away.
"So this is it then?" Harry asked, a little uncertain, if not hostile around the edges. He might've not heard the insult, or chose not to. Either those or he had been immune to Draco's play. "The moment when the magic ends and… we're back to square one."
For a moment Draco didn't know where Harry was getting at, or what he was talking about either. The thing going on between them or their schooling? And the Slytherin Head boy wanted to believe it was the latter because even if he was never going to admit it, he was going to miss Harry altogether. And everything else from the way Harry talked to him said that they might never see each other again.
He thought in the beginning he wouldn't care — as long as he had the chains to pull Harry then he was okay — but all the constant feigning aloofness was becoming a hard feat.
With Harry everything else was different; the first awkward night they slept together had Draco redefining what he really wanted in life even if on the morning after he and the Gryffindor acted like nothing had happened between them. And they mocked and insulted each other and then beat the other at Quidditch like they always did, except that now Harry knew what made Draco scream and Draco knew how to play his game with Harry and make the other boy's emotion whirl.
Draco's life has changed eight months ago and he started thinking, really, what was meant for him and what could've been if only given a chance. His father never really gave him choices in life, always picking out what best suited his pleasure and this thing with Harry confronted him with a thousand ones that always seemed good however he looked at it.
Surely becoming a death eater wasn't really his place, that or being married to Pansy Parkinson. And he didn't like where all his musings were heading because they bordered mostly on uncertainty and emotion and Draco was never good with that, never good with being all soft and romantic when the time called for it.
But with Harry it was different. The Slytherin Head Boy felt all pretenses being peeled off of him and in Harry's eyes he was human—real.
And when you're busy being Draco Malfoy it was more than difficult to be yourself; your father made it a point from the very beginning.
"You're one for melodrama aren't you Potter?" Draco said almost lamely and a part of him regretted that because he knew he was the one for melodrama, the one who could barely convey any affection of any sort because he had been terrified of his life about his father finding out and who was close to having his reserve shattered. But he fought to keep cool, complacent.
"There's a lot more of magic than you think lying ahead of you Potter, if even out of Hogwarts." Draco said, trying to keep his confidence aloft. "And perhaps it's just your living with your Muggle relatives that made you think there'd be no involved. That, or your stupidity. It's what we go to school for you know. To hone our skills in the field of magic?"
They were silent for another second longer; Draco thinking he'd been wearing a rut in that spot of grass and Harry just filling the space between with a silence that spoke volumes louder. He was thinking again, quiet like the wind and annoying at the same time when you're trying to concentrate and it blows your hair into your face.
And Draco hated this, hated this part of Harry because he knew it was that side of him that tended to fringe on the future — their future or lack thereof — and Draco hated knowing that the other included him in any plans at all which meant commitment and bond and love.
Draco was not touchy feely. And when it came to relationships, all he did was take — even if he always had been on the receiving end — because that was all he was made to do, all he knew how to do without any foul ups.
Harry raised his head, his emerald green eyes looking at if not through Draco, in a way that made the latter feel as if he were the most exquisite thing in the world and that Harry was leaving him or that the other boy has left already without his knowledge. Draco hated not knowing.
"Draco?"
Draco's eyes narrowed apprehensively. "Don't. Call. Me. That."
"Well that's your name now isn't it?" Harry asked, angry this time as he stepped in front of Draco and threw his arms up exasperatedly. From that vantage point Draco could see that Harry was thoroughly pissed.
"You know what I mean. Potter." He said it with so much venom he had actually begun to think it was real.
Harry was quiet again as he stood there in front of Draco. A part of the Slytherin Head Boy was glad he'd evoked that kind of reaction from the Gryffindor because he always got that when he teased him and the lack of verbal exchange almost comforted Draco into believing they were never going to speak about the future again.
"Are you scared?"
"What?" Draco heard Harry clearly and he was just stalling for time, maybe hoping some random Hufflepuff would walk into them and tell them the ceremony needed their presence. He knew it was far from possible, but these days logic and reason were blurred.
"Are you afraid of the impending war?"
Draco looked at Harry, startled, if not nervous with the last of his mask threatening to slip. "Are you?"
"You didn't answer my question." Harry sounded thoroughly angry.
"Well you didn't answer mine either." Draco pointed out feeling a bit less himself by the millisecond. "So I wouldn't answer yours."
Harry rolled his eyes — finally a sense of normalcy Draco was familiar with — and shook his head in disbelief, biting his lip to keep from yelling there at Draco.
"You know what?" Harry ground out. "This is hopeless!"
He began taking large strides away from Draco and the young aristocrat vaguely remembered wondering what caused Harry's quick shift of temperament and wanting to run for the Boy Who Lived and talk to him properly.
But a part of him was too prideful, too Malfoy to actually do that so he settled for a quiet whisper enough that the wind hear. And yet Harry had caught that, Harry had heard everything from the way Draco's breath seemed light and miserable to the sound of Draco's shuffling of feet on the grass—because Draco may not know it but Harry was always a hundred and one percent alert when it came to Draco.
"What is?" Draco asked softly. "This whole thing that concerns you and me? Or the 'impending' war? Because damn it Harry! You walk up to me and start talking about the future of us being together even when you know that there isn't any hope for us left because everything else... everything else has become so warped and crooked. You have these false ideals of yours that make you think you can straighten out everything but you can't… You're only human, Harry."
Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks yet made no move to turn around. Somewhere along the way Draco had gotten off that careful mask he always wore to conceal himself and the young blond sounded forlorn enough to make Harry listen.
"Don't think you can change the world because you're the Boy Who Lived." Draco said a note of resignation in his tone. His voice alone bore unshed tears and a wave of desperation Harry never knew was possible. "Don't think you're unbreakable because you are Harry, one day you'll find that out too. And perhaps I'm not afraid of the war but when that time finally comes."
Harry half-turned his hard emerald eyes softening at the sight of Draco, standing there with his fists clenched at his sides so that his knuckles were white tipped.
And it wasn't just heart wrenching but beautiful at the same time—the way the wind caressed Draco's sun kissed blond hair and wove his green robes in the air. He looked so real Harry wanted to touch him to see if it were true. The Gryffindor walked towards him so that they were standing face to face. He could almost smell the mint in Draco's breath.
"I'm afraid to lose you Harry." Draco said with a twitch of his lip as if he were deciding whether to smile ruefully or not. "I'm afraid to see you die. Even if I try to deny myself that fact I know that I can't. Because you're standing right in front of me and I'm missing you already."
Draco wearily shut his eyes in exhaustion — from his confession — and he willingly submitted to the emotion that overcame him as he slumped in Harry's startled arms, his head falling uniquely on the Gryffindor's left shoulder.
And the age old mantra — the one that Lucius exercised with him about Malfoys being supreme and above others, sly and immune to emotion— was cut merely short by the fingers grazing softly down Draco's back, drawing lazy patterns against the canvass of his clothed skin.
Draco's tears spilled, silver against the paleness of his cheek, hot and wet—his first time since he was a little boy and his father locked him into a shed for a night after helping a house elf with his chores.
Harry sounded mildly surprised as Draco to find out that the Slytherin had been sobbing on his shoulder and it took a minute to immerse himself in the oblique reality they were actually living in, that someone might see.
And the constant paranoia that became a perpetual resident in Draco's mind suddenly sparked as he realized it had been the first time they'd showed themselves publicly that way.
Draco was the first to move away but Harry's quiet testimony of "Don't." stopped him.
To be honest, Draco was surprised at himself for being so close to Harry and, not caring if somebody walked in on them because Harry seemed all right with that idea as well, the boy clutched tightly at the folds of scarlet robes, fingers gripping tightly on the fabric between them.
He allowed himself to be lulled by the soft breathing of Harry and the sturdy arms around him seeming to hold him into where he belonged, where he only felt safe.
"Aren't you afraid that someone might see us?" Harry asked a little undecidedly as Draco's shoulders quivered beneath his arms.
When Draco shook his head Harry realized he'd been holding his breath for a very long time, and when he released it he was glad because that was really all the reassurance he needed from the other boy.
Harry wrapped his arms around Draco a little uncertainly because they've never really been the affectionate couple. The sex was great and the occasional bantering sessions had been almost easily comfortable to fill the silence of random nights but Harry tucked this thought away because later on when they had the time — and somehow he knew they would — they would definitely try to be more tender towards the other.
And Harry wanted to tell Draco to come live with him or help him in the pursuit of the Dark Lord along with the Order because maybe two against one wasn't so bad after all and when Draco was around he felt more confident of himself and, somehow more wanted.
"Shh…" It was Harry trying to soothe the rapid beating of his heart and not the blond lithe bundle in his arms. "It's all right…I'm here."
"Harry…I—" Draco began to say as he emerged from Harry's shoulder, a patch of tears trailing down his cheeks. And Harry smiled a knowing smile as he brought his finger up to silence the other boy because it didn't matter anymore if Draco said it out loud because he knew—he felt it.
"I know, Draco. I know." He pressed his lips softly on Draco's pliant pale ones and somehow it didn't matter if they were standing on the empty castle grounds late for their own graduation or that any minute a student might walk out of the ceremony and see them that way.
The wind whipped around them, their robes clinging to their skin before fluttering into the breeze, melding green and scarlet as one.
And maybe there was hope after all, amidst chaos and destruction, hate and hostility. Maybe things aren't always what they seem and as long as Draco believed in a future of himself and Harry together (even if he didn't say it out loud) then Harry was all right with that.
There were countless incidents that seemed to obscure any chances of the Wizarding world's future, or Harry and Draco's for that matter.
And yet hope is all that was left that was good in the world anyway and Harry was not taking any chances to lose the one thing that ever made him rethink his whole life.
And maybe, maybe if you just believed enough, hoped just enough then it would suffice to put things back into the order into which they were, maybe then hope –like magic is to muggles — would make things miraculously all right again.
Fin
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Please review? Please? I know this thing's a bit far fetched but I got into the mood y'know? I wanted to portray Draco here as human—because he is after all. And for questions about the timeline and how their relationship began, fill the blank spaces with your imagination. Thanks and while you're at it… Please Review. Really, please do. Peace out!