A/N: I wrote
this over the course of one night (literally…the sun was coming up as I was finishing),
and I'm damn proud of it. No names are
mentioned until the end, so try to guess who the people are before you get
there. I just got out of a MAJOR
writer's block, so I'm happy to report that I had a blast writing
this!
Title: First
Aid
Summary: Some wounds are nicer than others…
Song Listened to While Writing: "Weep you no more sad fountains" (off the
Sense and Sensibility soundtrack)
Dedicated to: The
maker of the doorbell
* * * * *
He paced back and forth across the plush carpet restlessly. Another tired day, another sleepless
night...
He stepped as lightly as he could, and left the lights
turned off, although there was really no point in doing these things; there was
nobody else in the mansion for him to wake up, for he lived all alone.
He didn't get out much anymore because he was lonely. Terribly lonely. The last time he had interacted with another human being had been
three months ago, and the incident had left him so heartbroken that he couldn't
bare to see anybody's face, even his own.
He spent nearly all his time thinking about that day three
months ago when they both had said goodbye.
He kept wondering if either one of them had meant it to be goodbye
forever. He spent his nights walking
around the dark mansion in silence, resenting the way the wind and the echoing
sounds of the many trains in the station had prevented him from hearing clearly
his companion's last words on that fateful day...what had they been...?
* * *
...The face he longed to remember was slowly moving in the
opposite direction, and the many other faces in the building were surely going
to block out that face completely sooner or later.
"I have to go now...please...just forget about
the...don't know if...when I get there...try hard...see you again..." a
familiar voice said loudly through the hustle and bustle. He struggled against the furious crowds of
people to hear the words and the voice he longed so much to hold on to. But the din of the train station made it
much like trying to hold sand in your palms; the words were like the grains of
sand, quickly trickling through his tight-gripping fingers.
…The last words he
heard were his companion's faint goodbyes before he lost sight in the massive
crowds...
* * *
Memories, good and bad, clouded his mind every day,
forcing him to relive every single moment they had spent together before
graduation. The secret meetings at
night, the empty classrooms they had hid in when no one was looking, the
whispered words that reached nobody else's ears except theirs...
So many things that had been said (and unsaid)--important
and meaningless things, things they forgot, and things they would remember as
long as they lived...
* * *
..."You know I have...er...'stuff' to do after we
leave the school...important stuff..."
"Yes, of course," he stammered quietly, not
meeting the candle-lit face in front of him as he spoke, "But maybe--you
know, after you were, er...done with all that..."
…A hand was laid
gently upon his, grasping it tenderly, which made him look up into his lover's
face. Warm eyes that reflected the
candlelight met his, and for a brief moment, they had the effect of putting him
in a state of total and complete peacefulness.
Everything seemed all right now, and the world was as lovely as it ever
was...
* * *
Yes, the world seemed lovely then...but now, as the rain
pattered softly on his windows and the lightning and thunder raged outside his
walls...
...nothing seemed to be all right in the world.
His pace quickened ever faster as he became more and more
anxious. His personal state had been
like this ever since the day they had parted.
But three months was just too long...he couldn't stand it any
longer.
He hadn't seen nor heard from his love for three
months--not even so much as an owl--and the pressure was slowly but surely
building up inside his heart. He felt
that any moment his heart would either explode or--if it was possible--break
worse than it had already.
More memories made themselves present as he strode uneasily
into the kitchen to search for something to eat to take his mind off his
worries. After a while of contemplating
(and not to mention, obsessive-compulsively opening and closing the
refrigerator door about twenty times out of nervousness) he finally realized
that he wasn't going to stop brooding over all the memories out of some sudden
miracle, and decided to at least try to brood over a happy memory...
* * *
...It was after dinner, and he had been walking down a
particularly empty corridor, when he felt himself being spontaneously pulled
into an empty classroom. It all
happened very fast. He couldn't see
much, as it was very dark in the deserted room. He heard the door close loudly.
"What the...?" he began, but was quickly shushed
by a familiar voice. He felt a hand
wrap around his and immediately knew whom it was. And before he had time to regain his composure, he felt himself
being pulled into a passionate kiss.
"I've missed you..." the voice opposite him
whispered, sending shivers up his spine after they had broken the kiss off...
* * *
He had forgotten what he had said afterwards, but he sure
knew what he would have said if the situation had taken place now...
He sat there, quietly peeling his apple (which he had
finally chosen after many more minutes of opening and closing the refrigerator
door), and not really looking at what he was doing. But it didn't matter much, because he wouldn't have been able to
see even if he had wanted to, for his vision was blurry with tears that were
threatening to overflow at any moment now.
His hands shook as he rotated the knife haphazardly around
the apple. This isn't fair, he
thought to himself as he stared at the kitchen wall, Why am I always the one
to be the last to know everythi--
Dinnng donnng.
The sound of the doorbell ringing at 2:30 in the morning
startled him so badly that he ended up with a deep cut on his left index finger
where he had accidentally sliced it with the knife he had been using to cut the
apple.
But he hardly noticed a thing, as he had dropped both the
apple and the knife on the stone kitchen floor in his haste to get to the front
door.
He stopped five feet away from the huge double-doors, took
a very long, deep breath, and slowly opened the door...
A young man stood outside of the doorway, just barely
keeping out of the rain, black hair dripping wet, and traveling cloak soaked
through to the skin.
The other young man who was standing on the inside of the
doorway felt his heart leap about five feet up in the air at the familiar sight
of the person standing opposite him.
"Hello, Draco," said the black-haired young man
with a slight smile.
"Harry..." the young man standing opposite said
weakly. He stared at the black-haired
boy, faintly wondering if this was all just a dream...
"Oh," said Harry in mild surprise as he looked
down at Draco's hand, "You have a cut on your finger. Let's see if I can't do anything about
that..."
He lifted Draco's left hand soothingly, and examined his
wounded index finger before putting it in his mouth and licking the blood off
of it slowly.
"Mmm..." he said lusciously as he took the
finger out of his mouth, "...apples."
Draco promptly fainted.
* * * * *
A/N 2: I hope it
wasn't too obvious who the people were… Please tell me if it was.
