AN: Wow...its over...I'm kind of in shock right now. I've never finished ANYTHING in my life...and now...this story is over...*sigh* I want to thank every so, so, so, so, so, so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter. There are a lot of song lyrics because this chapter is so long and I wanted to provide good stopping points. Don't want you people to burn your eyes out reading this! I am writing my final, looooong author's note, with some explanation of things that some people may be peeved over. I hope you enjoyed. Bon voyage! *mwah*
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"That's why
I say your name
when I fall,
when I hit the bottom.
Play on.
The boys will stay
even if you're gone."
--New Found Glory
Draco slipped in and out of sleep, mostly because being concious was far too much effort. He slept for what felt like days, but were only fifteen or thirty minute intervals. Because he asked every time he awoke if Harry had awoken, the nurses told him they would alert him the moment Harry stirred.
Snape came in at one moment, when Draco was playing with the set of wizard's chess he had asked to have brought to him. He couldn't remember how to play it, so he instead sat, staring at the pieces, nudging them occasionally, remembering how Harry spoke when he was explaining the game...
"Good to see you awake, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, his normal edge softened ever so slightly. "Though not using your head quite as properly." He reached down and in a few seconds had capture the king Draco had been gazing at. Draco allowed himself a grin that didn't quite reach his tired eyes.
"Thank you, sir. Once again, your guidance has led me to higher plateaus of education."
"At least your wit is intact. Your teachers and fellow students will be delighted to learn so." He sat in a chair nearby, looking as tired as Draco felt. "You were admirably brave, Mr. Malfoy, and you have my respect. I came to tell you that both you and Potter are allowed to take then O.W.L.s you unfortunately missed."
"I'm ecstatic," Draco said, putting the chess kit back in its box. He rubbed his face, his hand lingering on the bandage. "I can't believe this has happened to me."
Snape smirked. "These type of things tend to happen to people who get involved with Potter."
"You're not involved with him," replied Draco. Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Au contraire, Mr. Malfoy. I have been involved with Potter before he was even born. Did he not tell you of my...dislike of his father?" Snape grimaced.
Shaking his head, Draco said, "He doesn't like to talk about his parents, or you, very much at all." He smiled at Snape. "Schoolboy rivalry?"
"Jealousy. I was always the better looking one."
Draco barely caught his snort in time, and Snape gave him a commiserating look. "What is the magnificent draw of the Potter men? You, Lily...every girl in Hogwarts..." He stood, shaking his head. With a nod at Draco, Snape left. Draco couldn't help but feel pleased that Snape had been so out of character. He didn't think he quite had it in him to work up a good snivel.
A nurse came over to his bedside. "Mr. Malfoy, Harry is stirring. He'll probably wake up soon. His other friends are there, as well."
Draco bounded out of bed, but the nurse, as doting as Madame Pomfrey, first gave him a check over and told him not to get himself up into a frenzy, since he was still a little weak. The moment she stood aside, Draco flew in the direction of that little corner where his whole life was lying.
Hermione and Weasel were already sitting there. Draco noted how Hermione was holding onto Weasel's hand with one hand and clutching Harry with her free one. They glanced at him as he sat on the other side of the bed, opposite them. With boldness much like the old him, the him he needed to draw strength from, Draco reached out and linked his fingers with Harry's. When he looked up, he saw how Weasel was watching his every movement, and Hermione was glancing between the two of them nervously.
They locked eyes for a moment, then, slowly, as if it was costing him every scrap of resolve he had in him,Weasel nodded stiffly. Draco nodded back. It wasn't much, but it was certainly something.
Harry gave a faint moan, and moved his head to the side. "He's been calling out in his sleep," Hermione whispered, watching him, but talking to Draco.
"For who?"
"For everyone. Mostly his mum and dad. Ron and me...you. You a lot. And Cedric, but only a couple times, and he always says he's sorry. I wish he'd wake up. His dreams are dangerous things for him to have."
Draco felt a pang of jealousy. Hermione and Weasley would always know Harry slightly better and in a slightly different way. He pushed the thought away. All that mattered right now was whether or not Harry would love him.
Incoherent words were slipping from Harry's mouth as he began to shake off the last bit of the heavy sleep. Slowly, his eyes creaked open, and he took a moment to focus on the three gathered around him. He smiled weakly, and Hermione released his hand to give him a glass of water. He drank it down quickly, rubbing his dry and chapped lips together.
He looked so helpless, it almost hurt. His hair was a complete mess, and his face was the color of the bedsheets. A bruise the size of Draco's palm was on his cheek, just below his eye. There was nothing in the world Draco wouldn't give to just wrap his arms around Harry and tell him it was all going to be okay.
A nurse came in and had Hermione, Weasley, and Draco stand off behind the curtains as she checked Harry over. They listened to them though the curtains.
"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked kindly.
"My throat hurts," Harry croaked back. There was a pause, the sound of liquid filling a glass.
"This may taste a little bitter, but it'll really help speed up your recovery."
"Is everyone okay?" Harry asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Don't bother yourself with that right now."
She busied herself for a little while longer, then allowed the three back in on the promise that they would allow Harry to rest. They eagerly agreed and went back to their places. Harry was now sitting up, resting against his pillows. In his hands was a goblet that he sipped from, grimacing when it entered his mouth.
"What did I miss?" he asked, almost playfully. Hermione bit her lip, and turned away as her eyes filled with tears. Harry watched her and shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know." He turned to Draco and let go of his hand to gently touch the bandages on his forehead. "Are you okay?"
Draco reached out a shaking hand and brushed his fingertips across the bruise on Harry's cheek. "Are you okay?"
"Not yet," Harry said sadly.
They stayed for a little while longer, talking about trivial little things because anything else would be too much. Harry eventually began to nod off mid-sentence, so they all left. Hermione kissed his cheek and Draco kissed his hand.
Before Draco could go back to his own bed, his head now heavy with relief that Harry was repulsed by his presence and sadness for the pain Harry had which Draco could not bear, Hermione stopped him.
"Draco," she said, her eyes now red and watery with tears. He stopped and turned. "Don't tell Harry yet, but...on that night...the Aurors who came..."
She stopped because tears overcame her. She turned and buried her face in Weasley's shoulder. He clutched her, rocking her back and forth.
"One of the people killed on our side..." he said, and he too swallowed past a lump in his throat. "One of the people was Remus Lupin."
"Our old Dark Arts teacher? The werewolf?" Draco said, his voice disbelieving. Weasley nodded, ignoring the way Draco referred to him.
"He and Harry are...they were close...Lupin was a close friend of Harry's dad and was like an...uncle... to Harry. It is going to be really...I don't think Harry is in quite the right state right now to know."
"How are you both?" Draco asked, sorry he could not feel more for the loss of this man. Hermione's sobs were quieting, but she remained in Weasley's hold.
"We're getting by," Weasley said quietly. "I don't mean to be rude, but when we do tell Harry...I think it should be just us. Its nothing personal, but seeing as the three of us knew Lupin best and..."
"I completely understand," Draco said, even though he felt another sting of jealousy. Weasley nodded, then led Hermione away. Draco went back to his bed and crawled into it, suddenly too tired to think, to even breathe.
All these people.
His mother. His father. Remus Lupin. Blaise. All these people because of one man.
Life wasn't fair.
Draco pulled the covers over his head and curled into a ball, forcing himself into sleep.
"I'm sorry,
I heard about the bad news today
a crowd of people around you
telling you its okay
and everything happens for a reason..."
--New Found Glory "Sonny"
The trees of the Forbidden Forest loomed over Draco, and he spun around, looking for a way out. He was no longer in his pajamas, but back in his Slytherin garb.
Something moved through the foliage, and he plunged his hand into his pocket to yank out his wand, then realized it wasn't there. The something was coming from the bushes, lighting the clearing up from a glow that seemed to come from it.
A yell tried to force its way out, but he had no voice; he clutched his throat, stumbling backwards from the glowing creature. 'A dream, its a dream!' he thought, wishing he would wake up.
His mother came forward. Her body was giving off an eerie shine. She looked younger, and it took Draco a moment to place where he had seen her look like that.
Then he realized it.
She looked how she was when he was born. Still young, still beautiful, still alive. Quietly, with a serene smile on her face, she stepped forward, touching his head.
"My baby," she cooed. Just a year ago, Draco would have dodged her touch and told her to knock it off, but now he yearned for her to stay there, to touch his head and tell him it wasn't as bad as it seemed to be. "My precious baby," she continued to say, then gathered him in her eyes. He began to cry, silent sobs that shook his body as he grabbed her and held on tight.
He wished he could speak, so he could say all the things he had wanted to say to her, all the things he was so scared she didn't know. When she pulled away, she used her thumb to brush away his tears.
"Shh, shh, dear," she said. As she dabbed at his tears, she began to sing. "Don't cry, little one, I am by your side. The night has come, and by the moon you must bide. Sleep, for I am not away. Sleep, while I keep nightmares at bay." It was the old nursery she sang to him when he was young. Lucius commanded her not to sing him to sleep, that it would make him weak, but when he fell asleep, she slipped away and held him and sang.
She did it sometimes when he was older. He would always pretend to be asleep, and she would sit by his bed, running her fingers over his hair and singing quietly.
It all began to fade away, like ripples in a pond, and he closed his eyes and opened them in the hospital wing again. Dumbledore was waiting at the foot of his bed. To his embarrassment, Draco realized tears were streaking out of the corners of his eyes. Hurridly, he sat up and swiped at them.
"Good morning," Dumbledore said.
"Good morning, sir," Draco replied. Dumbledore looked grim.
"Mr. Potter has been asking to see you. But I want to make sure," he said as Draco started to leap out of bed, "you are prepared. Last night, he coaxed Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley into telling him about Remus Lupin's death. He was, and is, very distraught."
"I have to be there for him," Draco pleaded. Dumbledore nodded gravely. Before he left, Draco paused. "You were friends with Professor Lupin, weren't you?"
Nodding, Dumbledore said quietly, "The wizarding world lost many a fine man and woman." He seemed to stop focusing on Draco then, his eyes taking on a faraway look. Carefully, Draco slipped by and went as fast as he could to Harry without attracting too much attention.
Slowly, he peeked around the curtains. Hermione was leaning against Weasley, crying, and Weasley looked close to tears himself. Harry turned his head, and Draco almost cried.
Deep purple circles that blended into the bruise on his cheek marred his eyes. His hair was unruly and dirty, and his hands were shaking so bad he was gripping a bundle of sheets in each hand hard enough to make his hands white.. He seemed beyond misery, beyond pain.
When Draco stepped nearer, he noticed a shaggy black dog with its chin on the bed, whining sadly. It barely gave Draco a second glance.
"I need to talk to Draco," Harry forced out. Weasley looked ready to protest, but Harry glanced at him, and he nodded, and helped Hermione to her feet. His own knees were shaking so bad that he stumbled. Harry looked down at the dog.
"Sirius, I need to talk with Draco alone for a bit." The dog lifted its head and looked at Harry forlornly, then shuffled out. Draco glanced at the open curtains, and in a tiny voice, Harry said, "Shut them." Draco slid them close then went to the bed. Harry siezed his hand.
There were no words to be said. The touch of his hand was enough, and Draco climbed into the bed, wrapping his arms around Harry, pulling him close. "He's dead, he's dead," Harry sobbed, his tears soaking Draco's shoulder. Draco couldn't reassure him, though he wished like hell that he could, because there was nothing to be assured of anymore. He couldn't begin to grasp the depth of Harry's pain; to lose so many people close to you...
How long he and Harry cried together, Draco couldn't measure with time. When he finished, Harry still held on, eventually crying himself to sleep. Draco rocked him back and forth, then, as the nurses extinguished the candles, he carefully laid him on the bed, tucking the covers around him.
For a moment, he stayed, watching Harry sleep. Lying there, his face blotchy from crying, his eyes heavily shadowed by sleep, Draco felt he was looking at a child that he needed to protect from all the bad things in the world.
When he was lying back in his own bed, he sighed, because something was different now. He couldn't quite figure it out, but it didn't bode well at all.
But...
what did anymore?
~
The next morning, he awoke and rubbed his eyes. He was heartily sick of being so lethargic. He asked the nurse to bring him an order form to get a new wand, and sent out notes to his teachers that he was ready to take his exams the moment his new wand arrived.
Ollivander, who remembered every wand he had ever sold, sent a new wand by the next day. 'Ten inches, slightly flexible, deep obsidian wood, containing the skin of a basilisk,' the note said. Draco tested it out, floating a jug of water to himself, and while he missed his old wand, he was pleased to note how quickly he took to this new one.
His teachers trickled in, giving him sympathetic or nervous looks, giving him his O.W.L.s. From McGonagall, he learned Harry was taking his as well, saying he had to take his mind off everything else. The moment Draco had finished them, he went to Harry's bed.
Harry wasn't lying down as usual, instead sitting in a chair by the window, gazing out of it, his arms folded on the window sill and his chin resting on them. He didn't seem to acknowledge Draco's entrance until he said, "You can sit down if you like."
Drawing a chair up to Harry, Draco sat down and watched Harry, who seemed to be observing the Ravenclaw Quidditch team practicing in the pitch.
"Do you remember when we first met?" Harry asked suddenly. Blinking, Draco nodded.
"Yes. In Madame Malkins'."
"Did you like me?"
Squirming nervously, Draco replied, "I...thought you were interesting. I wasn't the hormone charged moron I am now. I just wanted to make a new friend."
"I didn't let you, did I?" Harry said softly.
"And rightly so. I was a screwed up person then. And am," He added as an afterthought.
"Another thing we have in common."
"You aren't screwed up."
"I was. I am. I just wasn't as open about my screwiness as you are." He sat back, resting against the chair, looking at Draco. Beneath his eyes, the puffy skin was dotted with red spots, evidence of the blood vessels that had burst as a result of his crying. With gentle motion that rivaled a stalking cat, he reached forward and carefully pulled the bandage off the cut on Draco's forehead. He traced the shaky lightening bolt with his finger.
"Not as pretty as mine," he said, biting his lip, biting back tears.
"You need to sleep, Harry," Draco said quietly, trying to lead him back to bed. Harry siezed his upper arms with suprising strength.
"No, because if I sleep...they come back..."
Draco recoiled from the look in Harry's eyes. Harry felt him shrink beneath his grasp, and he turned away, putting his hands over his face.
"When I sleep, I see Cedric and Lupin and my mother and father. I can't look at them anymore."
"Then...you need a dreamless sleep for once."
"What if I wake up and I'm not me anymore? I'm not acting like how I am supposed to act, I'm completely gone..."
Gently, Draco led Harry to the bed, and when the nurse came rushing at Harry's outburst, he discreetly asked for a goblet of dreamless sleep potion. She produced it, and Draco carried it to Harry.
"Drink this," he commanded, quietly but firmly. Harry gazed sadly at the smoking liquid.
"Promise me..."
"I'll be here when you wake up," Draco soothed. Harry shook his head.
"Promise me you won't let me wake up." He took the goblet and swallowed it all, falling back on the pillow before he could do anything beyond letting Draco take the cup.
The nurse took the goblet with a sad sigh, saying, "He's had a lot of trauma in a short period of time. Sometimes...the brain can't handle it all."
"He's not going mad," Draco said harshly, more to himself than the nurse. The nurse laid a hand on his shoulder.
"I never said he was. He's just is trying to deal with everything all at once. The most important thing you can do for him is to be there for him."
"Where else would I be?" he said, sitting in a chair by the bed and taking Harry's limp hand.
"Tell all my friends I'm dead.
I'm leaving you, this time
its for good.
Tell all my friends that I'm dead.
It won't be long before you forget
my name.
Can't you tell that I'm losing myself?"
--New Found Glory "Tell All My Friends I'm Dead"
Madame Ava told Draco that he was ready to leave the hospital wing. She had his school robes brought down and laid on his bed in the morning. At first, he stared at them, plucking at the green and silver tie. It all seemed to faraway. Reality was like sand sand slipping through his fingers; he knew it was real, but he couldn't quite get it.
Hermione visited him briefly. "I just wanted you to know," she said, helping him with his tie, "that everyone knows."
"About Voldemort?" Hermione winced and shook her head.
"They know. But...let's face it, duels between Harry and You-Know-Who aren't the newest of information. They know about Harry and you."
Draco faltered, stepping backwards. "How did they find out? Did you and Weasel tell? I swear on my mother's grave if you did..."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione hit the side of his head. "Give the school some credit. They were already suspicious. Harry and you are the worst actors in the history of Hogwarts." She finished the tie. "At least a lot of people think it is really romantic, you almost sacrificing yourself for him, and he for you."
"What do all the other Slytherins think?" Draco asked, feeling slightly nauseous, wondering if it was excuse enough to stay in the hospital for the last two weeks of school.
She bit her lip and said, "Well, a lot of them are gone. And the ones left behind aren't...really...well..." she curled her lips into a grim smile, "aren't very Slytherin-y."
"I never thought you one to stereotype," quipped Draco, smiling his first real smile in awhile.
"And I never thought you one to fall in love with Harry Potter. Its refreshing to think outside the box, no?" She patted his chest and left.
Draco watched her leave and thought that if he had been straight, he'd definitely date her.
It was nice to think thoughts like that.
Because he had spent so much time saying goodbye to Madame Ava and the other nurses, checking to see if Harry had woken up, and telling everyone he could find that they were commanded to send him an notice the moment Harry woke up, he didn't leave the hospital wing until lunch.
As he opened the doors to the Great Hall, slowly the heads turned to look at him. There was some whispering, some open pointing at him and his forehead, and his stomach dropped. The seating arrangement by houses had been all shot to hell.
He didn't have a friend in the bunch. Pansy Parkinson was sitting with Milicent Bulstrode in the back, and she turned from him the moment his eyes landed on her. It was too late to run from the hall without making a jackass of himself, but it would be worse to sit down, alone, at a table.
Someone raised a hand, motioning at him. Hermione. No...it was Weasley. Feeling a surge of gratitude, Draco walked over as if he had meant to do it the moment he had opened those doors. A mixture of the houses were sitting at the table, and Hemione and Weasley moved to allow him space on the bench.
He was introduced around, and after he had shook every hand, he asked, "What were you all talking about?"
Hermione replied, "Something horribly inappropriate."
Seamus Finnigan smirked at her. "I think its an honest question with an answer I am very interested in."
"Because you're sick and depraved!" shot back Hermione.
"Well, I could have told him that," Dean Thomas said. He glanced at Draco. For a moment, a flicker of disgust ran across his face, but he smiled instead of wincing and said, "We're trying to figure something out. Do you know how big giants are?"
"Huge," laughed Draco.
"Right. So...if Hagrid is a half-giant...meaning his dad was a wizard and his mum a giant..." He illustrated their heights with his hand. "How did that work?"
"What do you mean?" Draco said, smirking.
"I mean...how did they...do it?" Dean couldn't say it with a straight face, because Draco had started laughing. "It just blows your mind!" Dean said, before bursting into laughter. He and Draco set everyone else off, and someone made a lewd joke giants and house elves that only made them laugh harder.
When lunch ended and the houses split off to their classes, Draco walked with a crowd of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, all talking loudly, making more inappropriate jokes about other inter-species mating until Hermione had turned bright red with her being torn between laughing and admonishing the speakers.
It felt good to be in a group of happy, carefree people. It was unnerving at first to be in a group of so many Mudbloods--Seamus regaling them with some of the fights between his Muggle grandmother and witch mother--but he tried to see past it to the people.
Besides, if he was going to judge them on the quality of their blood, how could he expect them to judge him justly on his sexuality.
Draco was sitting in the Great Hall, playing a game of Exploding Snaps with a third year Slytherin named Gabriel when Madame Ava tapped his shoulder. "He's awake." As calmly as possible, Draco excused himself from the game and tried not to scramble to the hospital wing.
Harry looked better. His voice was stronger when he greeted Draco. "Don't worry," he said with a look that was almost a smile, "I'm not suicidal anymore."
"You look better."
"You'd think I'd look better no matter what I did."
"Not if you dressed like a chick."
"I'm wearing pantyhose under these robes."
"Funny. I'm naked under mine."
"Prove it." It felt good to banter. It obviously had a good effect of Harry, because he smiled.
Smile, smile! Draco thought happily. He sat on the chair that was probably beginning to form to his bottom. "You're looking better, too," Harry said. "Those O.W.L.s were murder, oi?"
"I kind of liked them. Of course, I've always been legions smarter than you."
"Well, didn't I tell you? I like you for your brains."
"I thought you wanted me for my money."
"That, too. There are so many things I like about you its sometimes hard to keep straight." He watched Draco for a moment, then seemed to shake himself out of it and said, "Heard you have returned to classes."
"I didn't know it was newsworthy."
"The Daily Prophet did a story on it. Hermione told me how everyone...they know." He rubbed his leg nervously. "Is everyone...what are they saying?"
"Weasel said he wishes he'd gotten to me before you." Harry hit him playfully in the arm.
"No, seriously. This means a lot to me."
"I think they're okay with it. A couple girls are pretty crushed over losing you from the Hogwarts most eligible bachelor list, but they'll recover. I get some nasty looks in the halls, but I can't really tell if its because I'm gay, or because I'm a Slytherin."
"Wow, yeah, a gay Slytherin. I hear they have hunting seasons for them." He touched Draco's hand to show he was joking. "Where will you stay this summer?"
"I haven't thought about it." And Draco realized he really should have thought about it. He had no relatives, and there was no way in bloody hell that he was going to go back to that house and sleeping in that cold room. "Bollocks," he whispered, leaning over and resting his forehead against the bed.
"I wish I could bring you home with me, but my aunt and uncle wouldn't be too keen on that idea."
"I don't want to mooch of you. Maybe I can room with Snape."
"Does his little bat cave have room for two?" Harry smiled at him. "We'll definitely have to talk to Dumbledore about that. But, it'll wait. I'm coming back to classes tomorrow. Come down in the morning and get me, all right?"
"Well, yeah. I've got nothing better to do."
~
Harry was having a last minute check over, standing in front of Madame Pomfrey in his robes with an exasperated look on his face. "Madame Pomfrey, really, I'm okay."
"The moment you feel naseous or sick..."
"I'll come running to you. Flying, if my Firebolt is nearby."
"None of your tongue," she said, but she gave him a motherly pat on the cheek before letting him go with Draco.
"I'd like some of your tongue," Draco whispered.
"Please don't say that sort of thing, because I may have to ravage you on a table in the Great Hall and that may shock one or two people."
"Sod 'em all."
They entered the Great Hall together, though walking a little ways apart. The students sitting down were a little more discreet than when Draco had come in, but the talking had dropped to fervent whispers, mouths shielded behind hands. Draco let Harry lead the way to the table, where they sat across from Hermione and Weasley.
Breakfast consisted mostly of everyone asking Harry if he was okay. No one seemed to be contented when Harry kept saying, "I'm fine, fine," and he finally had to change the subject.
Pansy Parkinson walked by the table when the bell for class changes rang, and her elbow knocked Harry's drink over, splashing it across the table, down Harry's front. She stalked off without a second look.
"I've got it. Go, go, I can be late." Harry patted himself with a napkin, then glanced at Draco and said as casually as possible, "Could you help me, Draco?" Everyone fell into whispering again as Draco's cheeks flamed as he went to help Harry.
"Little bitch," muttered Draco as he tried to swab up the pumpkin juice as best as possible.
"Little faggot," Pansy said from behind. Draco whipped around to face her.
"Go away, Pansy," he said hotly, but she pushed him away and went instead for Harry. She shoved him-hard-and he stumbled backwards, looking shocked.
"You complete and absolute bastard!" she screamed at him. Draco grabbed her from behind and tried to pull her away as she went to wrap her hands around Harry's throat. "You stole him from me!" She was struggling to get away, scratching at Harry. Both boys were too shocked to say anything.
Teachers rushed in, taking Draco's place, holding her back as Draco and Harry left the hall.
When Draco was in the hallway, he started to laugh. "Did you see her face?" he said, turning to Harry, but his laughs quieted when he saw that Harry had pressed his face into the stone, away from Draco. "Harry?" he said, and he touched Harry's shoulder. Harry lurched away from his touch.
"I'm fine," he protested. "I just...have a headache. I'll see you later."
He left Draco alone in the hallway. How much had Pansy shaken him.
It made Draco feel the first surge of anger at Harry in awhile. Why was people's opinions of him so important? All he seemed to care about was whether or not everyone thought he was wonderful. The constant craving for appreciation was irksome and it was becoming to be a headache with Draco.
Whether or not it was because of that or Harry's natural ability to avoid people he didn't want to see, Draco barely saw him for the next three days.
Draco didn't want to admit it to himself, but there was something liberating about their mini, unspoken fight. People were asking Draco about Voldemort, and his relationship with Harry, and he was meeting more and more people, and he felt no obligation whatsoever to watch himself to make sure he wasn't pissing Harry off in some way.
All this only added to the uncomfortable atmosphere in Potions. Snape had them work on a time potion, which would take them back whole half hours. Every time Neville's potion exploded, he'd disappear and stumble back into the classroom, confusing everyone.
"How long can this take us back?" Harry mumbled, smiling weakly as he stirred it. Draco kept his sullen silence, mixing his own potion. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Harry pulled his mixer out and set it on the table next to them. "Are you going to not talk to me for the rest of the class?"
Draco answered with a cough. Harry tried to control his annoyance with Draco, but when he slammed his mixer down loudly, everyone jumped and stared. "Lover's tiff," someone whispered loudly, and some giggled.
"Sod off," Harry growled, storming out of the classroom. Draco looked at Snape.
"Would you like the honors?" he said, smirking malevolently. Snape raised his hands.
"This is your territory."
"Throw your student to the wolves. That's good teaching." He left anyway. Harry was sitting against the wall.
Draco sat down next to him, but didn't say anything. Harry kept glancing at him, but he held his silence, focusing on a spider that was dancing delicately on an intricate web acroos from them.
"Are you mad at me?" he finally asked.
"Nope," replied Draco flippantly.
"You are the worst liar."
"I'm really not. I just think you have some serious problems you need to work out."
"Gee, thanks."
Draco turned towards him, neither noticing that half the class was leaning out the door watching them. "Harry," he said, grabbing Harry's shoulders and giving him a shake, "It is okay for people to not like. And occasionally, people are going to hate you. That is life. C'est la vie."
Rolling his eyes, Harry replied, "Because people who hate me have never caused problems."
"I hated you."
"And look at all the problems I have now."
For some reason, it hurt to hear Harry say that. Draco let go of his shoulders and blinked, biting his cheek, then he stood. His cheeks and ears were flaming, and there was a dull throbbing in his ears. Harry looked mortified and leapt to his feet.
"Draco, I didn't mean anything. I thought we were joking..."
"I know," Draco said, but his voice still echoed oddly. Harry grabbed at his arm, but he shrugged him off. "I have...er...something..."
There was a sharp intake of breath from one of the classmates watching, and both Harry and Draco turned as they all ducked away. "Great, we had an audience," Harry said sarcastically.
"Don't worry, I bet they all loved you," Draco said hotly and walked away.
Love was not all it was cut out to be. All the songs and the books and the rumors about the wonderfulness of meeting someone you never want to be away from forgot--conveniently enough--to mention the little nuances of each other's personalities that wore away at their patience.
Amazingly enough, neither Harry nor Hermione sought him out to fix their recent spat, which was already a subject of hot debate among their year. Draco started finding excuses to not eat in the mornings, and started sitting with a group of third year Slytherins at lunch and dinner.
It was two days from when it was time for everyone to go home, and Harry sent him a letter to meet him in the same class room he had caught Draco and Blaise in.
He was there when Draco arrived, running his fingers against the drawings Draco had drawn that no one had bothered to erase. "Hi," Draco said softly as he sat down on a nearby chair after swiping the dust from it.
"It's almost the end of the year," Harry said, dusting his hands and pulling up a chair across from Draco.
"Learned the calendar, didn't we?" Draco said.
"I want to talk about this summer."
"Listen, I'm just gonna hang here."
"I figured. But I want to talk about us. I don't think..."
Those three words didn't spell very well for Draco. He struggled to continue listening. "...that we can be the same way this summer. And its not you, it me."
"You're breaking up with me?" Draco said, his voice dull. Harry shook his head.
"No, please don't say it like that. I'm not dumping you."
"Well, those are certainly YOUR words."
"Christ..." Harry said, dropping his face into his hands. "Draco, it isn't because I don't like you, because I do. Its because both you and I need a certain thing out of our relationships, and I can't give you that properly."
"You give me what I need fine, Harry."
"No, I don't." Draco noticed how bad Harry's hands were shaking. "I can't give myself what I need, I know I can't do it for you."
Draco reached and pried Harry's hand from his face and clutched it. "You do fine for me. Harry, I know we're not perfect. Its okay not to be perfect sometimes."
"Its okay for you to be imperfect sometimes, because you take it in stride. But I feel like if I mess up, if I make one mistake, its going to affect everyone...negatively...I have so much pressure and you're the number one thing to me and..."
"That just screws up all your priorities." Draco stood up sharply. "Completely understand. I guess this is why Dumbledore never married. Heroes don't have time to settle down. Too busy." He saluted Harry mockingly. "Been nice." Harry launched himself at him.
"Draco, please. You have no idea how much this is hurting me."
"Harry, please. You'll walk away from this, fine. You're Harry Potter. You'll have girls and guys wanting to get in your pants for the rest of you time. I'm not like you, so don't pretend that this hurts so much for you."
"Please, please, don't walk away mad." Draco crumbled underneath Harry's pleading gaze.
"I'm not. When I'm upset, I get pissed." He touched Harry's forehead, sweeping hair off to the side. "I think you're making a mistake. How can I be there for you, and vice versa, if we're not even going to try?"
"I just want to rest. I just want to sleep for the next few hours, days, weeks, months, and not have to worry about anything, or wonder if you're okay. I don't want to think about anyone, or anything."
He could have fought, he could've proven to Harry that it was worth staying with him. But he saw the way Harry looked, and he remembered they were both still kids, and even though he and Harry saw eye to eye, they were still pretty short for their age, which was only 16, and it was time Harry received a break.
"Okay," he conceded. Grinning broadly, Harry hugged him.
"Now that we're just friends, can we be friends with benefits?"
"Meaning?"
"Oh, shut up, Queen Naiveté. You know exactly what I mean." Then, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he pulled Harry to him and kissed him.
As he was exiting, he heard a familiar voice chime "Hello, dear."
"Adriana!" he exclaimed, hurriedly brushing away tears and walking to her.
"Draco! How are you, sweetie? I heard about all the mess."
"How..."
"Portrait from the hospital told the portrait in the Great hall..."
"I forgot you portraits have a hot line."
"We try. What just happened in there?"
"I never told you who my "love" was, did I?" he said, glancing nervously at the door and hoping Harry didn't think he was talking to himself.
"The hot line," she said, grinning. He nodded.
"Ah, so you figured out anyway. We just...we broke up..." he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm really sick of this all anyway, and I'm glad it's over."
"How many times have you fought?"
Draco counted and sighed again, saying, "Four times at least."
"So this it?" she asked. "This is finally when you throw in the towel say enough is enough, and never talk to him again?"
Draco shifted uneasily. "Not 'never talk to him again.' That...we..."
"Do you love him?"
Again, Draco shifted. "Well...I think..."
"And now enough is enough?"
"I...no..."
"That's love." She sat back, looking satisfied. "Love is never saying enough. Love is holding on when the whole world crashes down around you. This fight...I don't know or care what it is about. But it isn't the end. And it certainly isn't enough."
"Do you portraits have a book of wise sayings for all situations?"
"One does what one must to pass the lonely summer months." She looked as if she wanted to touch him in comfort. "I know it seems bad now, but remember the happy times. It'll all come out in the wash."
"Thanks," Draco said, honestly grateful. "I'm going to miss you."
The hours slipped by quickly, and classes became just formalities. Most of the time the teachers allowed the students to say good bye to each other. It seemed as if absolutely no time had passed between Harry and Draco's break up and when Dumbledore called Draco into his office to clear up where Draco would stay.
"We would be glad to keep you here this summer until you find another place."
"I guess Ministry officials are at my house," said Draco, sighing. Dumbledore nodded.
"Just collecting evidence. They'll be done soon, but I don't think you want to stay there. Do you?" He at Draco over the top of his half moon spectacles. Draco laughed shortly and shook his head.
"No, definitely not. But I want to sell it." Out of his pocket he produced a list he had written out the night before. "I want everything in the house, including the house itself, sold. Except for the items in these rooms." He pointed. "My mother's things should be all by themselves in the large walk-in closet off their bedroom. The things in my room are important to me. And in the drawing room we kept all our heirlooms and valuables. All in one room. I think so we could run really fast if need be." Then he sat back as Dumbledore surveyed the list. "Behind the portrait of Salazaar Slytherin is a room full of Dark things. Whatever you want to do with them, knock yourselves out."
"I know this is difficult for you, but since you are the only heir, it does all go to you. What do you want to do with Lucius's body?"
"Burn it," Draco said sharply, then he calmed. "No, I know. We have a family plot. Put him on the outside." He ducked his head and rubbed his forehead. "Where is Blaise's body?"
It was Dumbledore's turn to sigh. "His mother sent us a letter instructing us where to put it. Since his father was one arrested, she is reluctant to come out."
"Of course," Draco said bitterly, "I mean, it's only her son."
"Don't dwell on this, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said quietly, standing. "It doesn't do you any good, and you should try to remember any happy times you had with Mr. Zabini."
"Why do you think he did this?" Draco said, also standing to leave. Dumbledore glanced out the window above them.
"Sometimes," he said thoughtfully, "I think even the best of minds are tarnished by the lure of Dark Magic. Heaven knows why else..." He trailed off and smiled sadly at Draco. "Why don't you get a good night's rest and get ready for tomorrow. You'll want to say good bye."
Draco nodded and left.
~
He didn't get the prescribed rest. He had horrible nightmares of Harry coming back holding Weasley's hand, saying he didn't feel like taking Draco back.
In the morning, he tried to look happy, or at least like this was nothing, but when he went downstairs in the morning to where most of the school was waiting for the carriages, and everyone turned to look at him, he felt nauseous.
Harry was with Hermione and Weasley, of course, and Draco made his way to them. "Aw, you didn't have to come down to see me off," Harry said playfully as Draco drew level with them.
Smirking, Draco replied, "I didn't come to see you, I came to say good bye to Hermione." Then he turned and hugged Hermione and exclaimed over enthusiastically "Good bye! I'll miss you!" Laughing Hermione hugged him back, and Draco held on until Weasley pulled him away. He grinned at Weasley. "Just trying to steal your girlfriend."
Weasley managed a smile before draping an arm across Hermione's shoulder. Draco turned to Harry, having run out of reason's to postpone their farewells.
Harry stepped up to him and smiled faintly. "You sure you're not mad at me?"
"If you need some..." Draco sighed, "Harry time, I will give you that. But I won't like it."
I know we're just like old friends
we just can't pretend
that lovers make amends
"When you say it like that, it makes me feel like I'm breaking your heart."
"You are," said Draco matter-of-factly. Neither seemed to notice--or care--that the whole school was hanging on their every word. "But that's been done before, so I think I'll make it through."
Chuckling a little, Harry said, "You always were such a trooper." But when he looked directly in Draco's eyes, Draco could see his face reflected in the tears. "You'll still love me when I get back? Or is everything different now?"
Sighing, Draco shrugged. "I can't tell anymore." With an act of boldness unlike him, Draco touched Harry's arm. "It'll all be all right. One day."
We are the reasons so unreal
we can't help but feel
that something has been lost
but please
you know you're just like me
next time, I promise we'll be
"It's hard to think about how much I've changed this year," Draco said quietly.
"My entire fault."
"If you're going to take the blame, don't let me stop you."
There was a hint of urgency in Harry's voice. "You'll be here when I get back?" It sounded like he was reassuring himself more than anything.
This time, Draco touched his face. "I'll be there for you always." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione's face twist, and he knew she had gotten what he couldn't say; inside of himself, he felt a growing sense of urgency that he had to get away.
The carriages pulled up, but few people made moves to get in them. "I'll be okay," Harry said, touched the hand cupping his cheek.
"I know you will."
"And we will see each other again."
"Is there any doubt?"
So far, I still know who you are
but now I wonder who I was...
Angel you know its not the end
we'll always be good friends
the letters have been sent on.
So please, you always were so free.
You'll see, I promise we'll be
Weasley punched Harry's arm. "We have to go." He glanced between the two boys, and then grimaced. "Oh, for the love of all things blue, will you just kiss him and get it over with?"
Draco blushed and released Harry, stepping back, knowing how much Harry hated public displays of affection. "There are people watching," he hissed back, now painfully aware how the students, and some teachers, watched the exchange with baited breath.
Reached forward, Harry put a hand on Draco's neck and pulled him forward until their lips touched. Draco couldn't decide whether to melt completely in Harry's arm or cry because he could taste tears between their lips and he didn't know whose they were. He heard Weasley moan in disgust, and their audience gasped in shock.
It was magical and beautiful and every kiss and touch and whisper had led up to this one moment that Draco wanted to freeze in time so he could be here forever, in this moment, in this kiss.
When it ended, they moved apart, detaching almost painfully. There was nothing left to say. Harry backed into the carriage, and the lingering students realized that the show, if it could be called that, was over, and they, too, went into their carriages.
Perfect strangers when we meet
strangers on the street
lovers while we sleep
Hogwarts over the summer teemed with ministry officials, but overall it was boring for Draco. After he had finished his homework, he spent most of his time sitting in the back, listening to the heated arguments during the meetings of the Order.
He got two letters from Harry, a letter containing the offers for the things of his family's they wanted to sell, and a letter without a name. He sat back in the Slytherin common room, delightfully void of anyone, and opened it.
Into his lap fell a small cardboard piece, and Draco set the parchment down and picked up the card.
A Famous Witches and Wizards card.
Number 101. Harry Potter.
Draco touched the card, thinking briefly of his own that he had to throw away because it was too well-worn and well-loved. He glanced at the parchment, but it said in curvy writing that he didn't recognize, "For you. May all your memories unwind into happy roads." There was no signature, no sign of who had sent the card.
He was still thinking about it when he went to Dumbledore's office that night, tuning out the typical argument between Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic.
Fudge's words startled him into consciousness. "I don't even know why we have to deal with the Americans! They are arrogant, selfish and completely unrelated to what is going on over here! And now they want us to send a delegate? When hell freezes over I will send one of our people over there."
"What?" Draco said. Fudge glanced at him, barely covering his sneer.
"If you had been listening, you'd know that we're talking about the fact the American wizarding government won't send a delegate here. They want US to send THEM a delegate."
Something took control of Draco's tongue and he said, "I'll go." The room paused, staring at him. Dumbledore shook his head.
"Draco, there is no need to uproot. The Americans will come around when they realize they might not get a say in what goes on concerning Voldemort."
"Uproot from WHAT?" Draco blurted. "There is nothing holding me here. I'll go over there, and...what...send reports? Keep up connections? I have nothing better to do."
"There is nothing holding you here?" McGonagall said, giving him a look. Draco glanced at her, then at Dumbledore, whose eyes were reflecting the question.
"No. There is nothing holding me back," he said strongly. Fudge glanced between him and Dumbledore.
"If he wants to, then I see no reason why not. If it'll get the Americans out of our hair without actually having to meet with an American..."
"So we throw him to the wolves?" Snape said from across the room. Fudge again regarded Snape with intense dislike.
"If he volunteers."
Dumbledore waved his hand, never looking away from Draco. "You are sure, Mr. Malfoy, that you want to do this?"
Squaring his shoulders, Draco replied, "Yes. I think it'll be fun. I like different cultures and different people."
Dumbledore knew a lie when he heard one, but he smiled anyway. "If you're prepared."
Later that day, Dumbledore sent off a letter to the Americans then called Draco into his office. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. Draco shrugged uncomfortably, not sitting down.
"I want to help."
"Good. Now tell me really why you're doing this."
"Because staying here..." Draco glanced around the office, "hurts too much. I've already lost my mother, and Harry, and I just want to get away for awhile."
"You haven't lost Harry. He's just gone for the summer."
"But it'll never be the same."
Sighing heavily, Dumbledore stood and said, "If you're perfectly okay with it."
"I'm just plain spiffy about it," said Draco.
~
The Americans wrote back and said they'd be glad to have Draco, and that he could stay in Ava Academy for Magical Arts in Maine. They would expect him in a few days, and wrote the spell that could charm Draco's broom into flying the way to the school without Draco needing to do anything but make sure he was invisible.
Draco packed his things, pulling out his invisibility cloak, and a single piece of parchment and a quill. He sat down at the desk in the dormitory, and closed his eyes for a moment. In the stillness and silence, he could imagine Blaise and him playing Exploding Snap, laughing over little things. He could imagine kissing Harry on his bed and almost being caught. The little memories danced in his head happily.
He opened his eyes and started the letter. It was horribly sappy at first, half a parody of their Valentine letters to each other, and the other half being an honest telling of how he felt. He spent a lot of time begging Harry not to be angry with him, and the rest telling him that he would be back, he would be back as soon as possible, and that he just felt like he had a duty elsewhere.
He closed it with 'Much love from Draco.'
That was all he could say.
The next day, Dumbledore charmed his broomstick, sent his bags ahead, and then helped Draco adjust the cloak so it covered the broom. He let his hood down briefly to say good bye to the teachers who had come out to see him off.
"Good bye, Mr. Malfoy."
"Good bye, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you." Dumbledore nodded, stepping back. The broom rose in the air, and Draco waved farewell to his teachers, to Hogwarts, to England.
The ride was pleasant, zooming over the ocean, the thrill of fear Draco felt every time he hit an air current and even though he was magically strapped to the broom, it was exhilarating to teeter dangerously over the Atlantic.
After a short decline at a high speed, the broom skidded to a halt outside an immense building that looked more like a mansion than anything else. A man in traditional American wizarding clothes--mostly Muggle clothes, gray blazer, and a tie.
"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy!" he exclaimed as Draco threw off the cloak and said 'Finite Incantatum' to the magical binding. Draco held out a hand.
"Thank you for having me, Professor..."
"Mr. Finch," the man said, shaking his hand. "Your things are already here. Also, we've sorted you based on Professor Dumbledore's letter about you. You've been placed in PheonixFeathers."
"Joy be unto me," Draco said quietly, his lip curling slightly at Mr. Finch's Northern accent. "Are you the headmaster?"
"Principal, and no, I am the head of PheonixFeather's house. The principal is regrettably attending a meeting in Washington D.C. but he is excited about meeting you and discussing with you what you can do to help strengthen the ties between the English ministry of magic and the American Government of Magic." Draco noted the way he emphasized everything American.
They stepped into the foyer of the school, Draco carrying his broom with his cloak draped over his shoulder. "The term starts August 30, so you have a couple weeks before the other students arrive." He watched Draco drop his head back to look at the ceiling, which was slowly changing from one beautiful, moving work of art to another. "But, otherwise, welcome home, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco smiled, thanked him, but knew, like he knew his own name, that this was not, and would never be home.
Home was Hogwarts. Home was England.
Home was Harry.
You know this has to be
we always were so free
we promised we'd be
...perfect...
