Title: Just Make Me Feel
Author: Summer Rain
Email: draco_dreamer@yahoo.com
Category: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/D
Rating: PG-13, possibly R
Summary: A distraught Harry finds comfort in an unlikely guest at Hermione's funeral.
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. They're all from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. No money is being made of this fic. It's all just a bit of fun. ^-^
Author's Note: The original fic took me about 2 hours to write. It was just an idea that had been annoying me for a few days and I just had to get it out of my system. At the time I didn't take the fic too seriously but lately I've been thinking about it and how I could improve it so I've done a little changing and tweaking of things. It's still not perfect but it'll do for now. A big thank you to all that read it and to the few that reviewed (Elise, complete*me and Misty - you guys rock). Now on with the show. ^-^
********************
The wind whistled loudly through the trees and a chill ran down Harry Potter's spine. There was a storm on the horizon. Could there be a more perfect day for this? he wondered bitterly as he forced himself to raise his eyes and thank the last guest for attending. It was Percy and Penelope Weasley and they uncomfortably offered their condolences before practically running from the cemetery. Harry knew the feeling. Muggle cemeteries had always creeped him out too.
And now he had even more reason to hate them. For today they had buried the only girl that Harry Potter would ever love. The only girl that ever made him forget that he was famous for having dead parents and a stupid scar on his forehead. The only girl that made him feel that he was worth everything he was given. Absently Harry lifted a hand and ran it over his lightning shaped scar before closing his eyes and trying to flatten his thick longish black hair over it. It's all my fault, he thought, his emerald green eyes filling with tears. If only I could have stopped Lord Voldemort from bringing the fight to me and to Hermione. If only I'd been able to keep her safe.
But Hermione Granger was dead and Harry would never forgive himself. Only a week ago he'd once and for all beaten the man - no, monster - that plagued his nightmares and tortured his memories but Harry couldn't celebrate. Because Hermione had died at the hand of Lord Voldemort while trying to help Harry and for that there was no excuse. It was his fault that he would no longer hear the sound of her voice or watch her try and fix her long curly hair while reading four books at once. She would never again tell him off for neglecting his studies while he was at Hogwarts or cheer for him while he played Quidditch for England. She would never do anything again because she was dead.
Not being able to hold in the pain another second Harry collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Seconds later he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around him and a head buried itself in his shoulder. However, Harry couldn't hug them back. When the blinding pain and torture inside him ended all Harry could feel was numb. He felt no emotion for any other person. I'll probably kill them too, he reasoned.
"I was so worried Harry," a deep voice mumbled into his shoulder. Harry identified the person hugging him as his other best friend Ron Weasley. "You've been so emotionless since...since it happened. I thought you were in shock...Or denial. It's as if you don't feel anything. You should let it all out. Just let it all out." Harry could hear the pain in his friend's voice but somehow he couldn't bring himself to say anything comforting or even respond at all. The mere sound of Ron's voice brought back millions of memories, all in which included Hermione in some way.
"I have to go," Harry choked out. "I can't be here anymore." He pulled himself out of Ron's grip and stood up. Through misty eyes he could make out the outlines of the rest of the Weasley family, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and even Snape and finally Hermione's parents who were the ones that had insisted they have the funeral and burial in the Muggle world. Harry knew they hated him. After all he had been Hermione's wizard boyfriend and from the way they spoke whenever magic folk were around it indicated that they saw the wizarding world as a dark, dangerous place. A place that had taken their only child from them.
"Harry?" Ron's voice was confused and strained. Harry took no notice. There was nothing these people could do for him anymore. Without another look Harry turned and fled the cemetery. He just ran not knowing where he was going or how he was going to get back. He ran, tripping over rocks and stones. One finally caught the edge of his pants and Harry tumbled down, hitting the dirt with a thud. His knee skinned the ground, ripping the knee of his black pants open, his glasses falling off his face in the impact. Harry didn't even feel it when the deep cut on his knee began to bleed. Blindly he stuck out his hands and searched for his glasses. Finally his fingers closed over something and he picked it up. Squinting he inspected it and felt his stomach drop when he realised what it was. Roughly he shoved the object into his pocket and searched for his glasses again. Finding them he put them on, ignoring the crack that had appeared over his left eye, clouding his vision and stared off into space. It was then did he notice his bleeding knee. He lent over to look at it but instead of trying to stop the blood that was now soaking into his pants and dripping down his leg, he just watched. He watched the shiny red liquid with almost a blood lust. He wanted to see the blood. He wanted his knee to hurt. But it didn't. Still he felt nothing.
A shout from the cemetery reached his ears and Harry looked up with tired eyes in time to see Ron running towards him. Just go away Ron, Harry thought, wishing his friend would get the hint and leave him alone. He wanted nothing to do with anyone anymore, especially Ron. Ron was their best friend. He knew Harry and Hermione almost as well as they knew each other and Harry knew he couldn't let himself be close to Ron anymore. He couldn't let Ron meet the same sort of end Hermione did.
Without thinking about it for another second Harry closed his eyes and Apparated.
When he opened them again he was sitting on the floor of the dirty, trashy motel room that he'd been staying in - no, hiding in - for the last week. Harry couldn't bear to be around Wizards anymore. It hurt too much. For half of his life Harry had believed that he was nothing more than a Muggle. And that's what I need to be again, he thought, standing up and walking over to the sliding doors on the other side of the room. Because I didn't meet Hermione until I joined the wizarding world. And none of this Voldemort crap was known to me until then either. It had been a nice fantasy to begin with. A place that poor, abused little Harry could escape too but something went wrong and Harry wanted out. He slid the door open and walked out onto the balcony, letting the wind whip through his hair. The smell of rain mixed with salt was on the air and the roaring sea below drowned out Harry's thoughts and cleared his mind.
"It's time for me to wake up from this dream," Harry whispered as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small diamond engagement ring. It was the thing that had fallen out of his pocket back at the cemetery. He'd been carrying it for weeks now. Harry loved Hermione more than life itself and he had been planning to tell her that. He'd been planning on asking her to be his wife but it was the night that he and Hermione had been having a private romantic dinner, the night that Harry wanted to try again to propose on, did Voldemort attack. Harry never got to tell her exactly how he felt.
He thought he was going to breakdown again. But as he stared at the ring, he couldn't. He had no feeling left. Lifting his head, Harry stared out at where the waves were pounding against the cliff that the motel was situated on. For a moment Harry wondered what it would be like to be in those waves. To have the sharp rocks hitting his body, cutting his skin. Would he feel anything then? The ring still clasped tightly in his left hand, Harry gripped the railing with his other and continued to stare down at the rocks.
********************
He wasn't sure how long he stood there for but when Harry looked up from the waves the sky was turning a deep purple colour as the sun set behind the horizon. Harry stared at it listlessly. Hermione had always loved sunsets. Hermione had always--
"Potter."
The voice interrupted Harry's thoughts and for a moment he just continued to stare out to sea, not comprehending that someone was talking to him. After all how could they be? He was alone in his motel room.
"Potter?"
The second time Harry finally snapped to it and turned his head to lock eyes with the silver-grey ones of a boy - no, man - that Harry hadn't seen in a long time.
"Malfoy?" Harry questioned wearily, not in the mood for Draco's taunts about Mudbloods and death. If Draco even looked as though he'd say something against Hermione, Harry wouldn't be responsible for his actions. He'd kill him. And what was he doing here anyway? How did he find him? Harry had been so careful to cloak his whereabouts from the wizarding world. "How did you get in here?" he asked. "How did you find me?"
Malfoy said nothing. He just held up his wand in a sort of explanation and walked silently over to where Harry stood and to Harry's surprise, lent against the railing as though he was planning on staying a while.
Confused, Harry found that for the first time in days he felt an emotion other than pain and torture bubble to the surface - anger - and he could talk without having to think carefully about what he was going to say in fear he might breakdown mid-sentence. "What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously. "I didn't think Malfoys visited the Muggle world often."
"We don't," Draco said simply as he stared out at the ocean.
"Then...?"
Draco tore his eyes from the water and looked at Harry. "I don't like you Potter," he said coldly. "But I couldn't not come to this. I had to say good bye. My father doesn't know I'm here."
Closing his eyes, Harry held a hand to his head, wincing at his head throbbed. "Malfoy," he snapped. "Quit the cryptics. What are you doing here? What are you doing in my room? And why?"
Draco didn't look in the mood to be giving straight answers. He curled his lip and looked back out to sea. Harry watched his profile carefully, wondering what exactly the younger Malfoy was planning. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.
"Do you know what it's like to feel alive?" Draco asked Harry suddenly. "To really live and know that what you're doing is making an impact in someone else's life?"
Harry hesitated. Draco sounded serious. But Harry wasn't about to fall into one of his traps. He would tread carefully. "Yes," he said hesitantly.
"I don't," Draco continued. "Not completely."
Harry groaned. "Malfoy what the hell does this have to do with me? Why can't you just leave me alone? Do you find some kind of sick pleasure in seeing me like this?" Harry pushed himself away from the railing, ready to leave. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Malfoy's crap today.
"She made me feel alive Potter."
Harry paused. What on Earth was Malfoy talking about? "What?" he asked, slowly turning around. Draco was watching him now, his face serious, his eyes swirling with emotion and longing. Harry watched as his shaggy blonde hair thrashed around in the wind which seemed to be getting even stronger by the second. For a moment Harry couldn't see the Draco Malfoy he knew. All he could see was a lost, vulnerable little boy.
"She made me feel alive," Draco repeated softly. "When...when I teased her...And when I taunted her and when I tortured her I could see in her eyes that I was making an impact. I was making her think and I knew that I could keep her thinking about the things I'd said for weeks. She acted like they didn't effect her, but I knew they did. Because when she said things to me, I knew I'd be going back to my room and thinking about them too. She was the only person that could ever hurt me Potter. She was the only person that ever made me feel."
Although the words stung him and made a sort of sense that even Harry couldn't explain, Harry was horrified. He stared at Draco, disgusted. How could this vile creature even think for a moment that his beautiful Hermione worried about anything he said? How could Draco say those things when he hated her so much? How could--
It finally hit Harry like a thousand Unforgivable Curses at once. "You loved her," he said flatly.
Draco paused for a moment. "Didn't you?" His voice was hoarse and he tore his eyes away from Harry's and stared out to sea again.
Harry didn't know what to think. For so long he'd believed that Draco only tormented Hermione because he knew that it would upset Harry but to think that Draco tormented her to get a reaction...It was cruel. It was wrong.
"How can you say you loved her, when you treated her like that?" Harry demanded angrily, reaching for his wand and stepping threateningly towards Draco. "How can you love someone and be so cruel? I don't care what sort of warped ideas on love you have Malfoy but Hermione never thought like that. And she would never have fallen for someone as evil and disgusting as you." He continued to step closer to Draco until he was only inches away from the other man's face.
Draco flinched slightly. "How can you say you love her and not understand what other men see in her?" he retorted. "I saw her fire Potter. I saw the fire that you tried so hard to put out. But it will never happen. You may have killed her but you will never kill Hermione's spirit."
Rage surged through Harry and he leaped at Draco, knocking him to the hard concrete floor. His wand discarded, Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco's neck and tried desperately to strangle the blonde wizard but seconds later he realised that Draco was not trying to fight back. He was laughing.
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded as he tightened his grip again. "Stop laughing!"
But this only made Draco's cruel cackle continue. Harry's blood boiled and he continued to squeeze until finally Draco started coughing and tried to speak.
"Isn't...isn't fate funny Potter?" he gagged. "Isn't it strange how you can hate someone with every fibre of your being but yet they're the only one that can ever really make you feel?"
Draco's words caught Harry off guard and for a second his grip slackened and Draco used that moment to push at him hard and knock Harry off his chest. Harry hit the railing behind him and sat panting, unable to think clearly. No wait that's the problem, Harry thought suddenly. I am thinking clearly. Ron's earlier words suddenly came to him. "You've been so emotionless since...since it happened. I thought you were in shock...Or denial. It's like you don't feel anything."
Feeling dirty and disgusting, Harry tried to pull himself to his feet but tripped and ended up on the floor again. His chin hit the railing and he winced in pain. He wouldn't let himself believe it. He couldn't believe that Draco Malfoy was anything but an evil person that was trying to ruin his life by playing stupid little mind games.
Draco's laugh faded as he sat up, clutching his chest with his left hand. In the other was a diamond ring. His face was once again serious.
"Give me that!" Harry demanded wrenching the ring out of his hands. He hadn't even realised he'd dropped it. Harry stood up, while looking down at the ring and all of a sudden the emotion hit him again and Harry bowed his head, trying desperately not to cry in front of Draco. She's gone. She's gone, Harry kept repeating in his head.
Suddenly with a roar of anger Harry threw the ring with all his might and watched as it sailed through the air and then disappeared into the depths of the roaring ocean, crashing on the rocks below. Harry couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his vision blurred.
To his surprise, Draco did not start laughing again. Instead he moved closer to Harry and stood beside him. So close that Harry could hear every breath, every whisper.
"Just fuck off Malfoy," Harry barked, trying to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.
Draco didn't move. "Do you remember what Hermione looked like when she cried?" Draco asked in an almost gentle tone. "Do you remember the way she used to wipe her eyes and blink so it looked like she wasn't crying at all?"
Harry drew in a shaky breath, unsure to whether Draco was serious or if he was playing his stupid games again. Harry pulled his glasses off and wiped his own eyes before putting them back on and bringing them up to meet Draco's.
Draco stared at him for a moment before reaching into his robes and pulling out his wand. He pointed it at Harry's glasses and Harry heard him mutter something "reparo" before the crack across Harry's left eye immediately repaired. Harry didn't know whether to thank him, hit him or cry again for Hermione. Finally Harry decided to act as though nothing had happened.
"I remember," he said hoarsely, noticing as Draco put his wand away that his expression was pained. "And the way her eyes flashed angrily when she was mad. Her eyes were more vicious than her mouth ever was."
Draco nodded. "Her eyes were pretty special," he agreed leaning on the balcony railing again. "Do you remember when she hit me in our third year? Scared the shit outta me. I thought she was going to hex me or something. She should have hexed me...Wouldn't have been as bad as the humiliation I felt."
Harry felt a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "Hitting a Malfoy," he mused. "Only my 'Mione would do that." Harry paused. What was he doing? Reminiscing with the enemy? Was he insane? However, as Draco continued to talk about the things Hermione used to do Harry found himself reaching a sort of peace. Who would have thought?
"I remember when--" Draco cut himself off as though realising he didn't want to share that story. He looked up to the sky, as a light shower of rain was starting to fall.
"What?" Harry asked warily, ignoring the rain.
Finally Draco smiled a sly smile and suddenly looked a lot more like the Draco Harry knew and hated. "She kissed me once," he said triumphantly, savouring the look on Harry's face.
Harry's mouth fell open. "She did not," he retorted. "She would never...She...When?"
Draco shrugged and looked away. "Final year. She was teaching a group of Gryffindors how to play Spin the Bottle...Apparently it's some stupid Muggle game when you have to spin a bo--"
"I know what it is," Harry interrupted, wishing Draco would just hurry up and get to the point. He and Hermione had been dating in their seventh year and she had never mentioned a kiss.
"Right," Draco drawled. "I forgot. Anyway me, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle decided to join in, she spun the bottle, and it landed on me. So...I think you can fill in the blanks..." He shrugged.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Draw me a picture," he said flatly. "Pretend I can't."
Draco rolled his eyes. "No need to get jealous Potter. She's dead."
Harry felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. "Fine," he snapped, turning away, the reality of what was happening finally hitting him. "I don't know what you're doing here anyway. I think it's time you left..."
But before he knew what was happening, Draco had also turned around. One of his hands slid behind Harry's head, weaving itself though his dark hair and the other rested gently on his shoulder. And then without hesitation a pair of lips came crashing down onto his in a forceful, but gentle kiss. Harry froze, unable to react. From the way the hands rested behind his head and on his shoulder...Harry could almost pretend it was her...
Seconds later Draco pulled away, breaking the kiss. "That's what it was like," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Was that picture realistic enough for you?" he asked bitterly. "Although I suppose you already knew what it was like to kiss her."
Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. The ache in his stomach was growing and Harry felt like his heart was being ripped in half. He missed her so much. He missed every little thing about her. The way she kissed him, the way she touched him, the way she loved him.
"Kiss me again," Harry found himself pleading. "Please. I need her...I need...I just--"
Draco's lips didn't hesitate another second before planting themselves upon Harry's. He ran his tongue along Harry's bottom lip, urging them to open and when they did their tongues intertwined in a hot, passionate embrace driven by longing and pain. They both knew what the other was missing and they both knew how to get it back.
Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and pressed his body up against the other man's. Harry let out a whimper as he ran a hand down Draco's body, knowing that the curves he felt weren't where they should be. He knew it wasn't her but he didn't care. He needed something to make him feel. To make him live again. And in one kiss Draco Malfoy was helping The Boy Who Lived really live again.
Panting heavily they broke apart at the same moment, their eyes searching the other's, knowing that what they were doing was wrong, but also knowing it felt so right. Draco had lied when he said that only one person made him feel alive. There was another. And he was standing right in front of him.
With a rough hand Draco reached up and pushed Harry's now wet hair away from his forehead. The rain was beginning to come down heavily. With an intense gaze, he ran his fingers down the scar that made Harry Potter so famous. By the look on Draco's face, Harry was certain he was about to pull away in disgust but he never did.
"Hermione used to do that," Harry whispered finally. "She used to run her fingers down my scar and then through my hair and then she'd start kissing me. All over my face until finally reaching my mouth and kissing me gently. Then she'd tell me that to her I would always be more than a scar or a legend."
"Like this?" Draco whispered back before running his fingers down the scar and then through Harry's thick black hair, pushing the wet mop away from his forehead. Carefully he kissed Harry's forehead before pulling off his glasses and kissing his closed eyelids. He replaced the glasses and then kissed Harry's nose making Harry sigh. He hesitated before kissing Harry as gently as he could on his lips. Then he lent up so he could whisper in Harry's ear.
"To me Potter," he spat out bitterly. "You'll always be more than a scar or a legend. I'll hate you like I've hated no other but I'll touch you as though it's you I've wanted all along. You're not her but you're all I'll ever have."
Harry froze as he realised the full extent of what he was doing. Draco was the enemy. His father had been in league with Voldemort. He'd spent half his life tormenting Harry and his friends but yet Harry couldn't let go. He needed Draco like he needed no other. Harry smirked and he whispered back, "The feeling is completely mutual." He then pressed his lips roughly to Draco's while his hands slid down the arms of the other wizard and tugged at the clasps that held the robes to his slim body. He couldn't stand to be alone another second.
Draco got the message and slipped Harry's coat off his shoulders before starting on the buttons of his dress shirt. Together they touched and kissed and undressed as Draco pushed Harry back through the sliding door and over to the double bed that lay in the middle of the room. A trail of clothes, Muggle and Wizard, marked the path that they took. Draco pushed Harry hard and together they landed on the bed. Harry caught Draco's bottom lip in his teeth and bit down. Draco moaned and in reply pulled the last of Harry's clothes from his body.
Panting heavily, Draco pushed himself up, his hands on either side of Harry's head. "What do you want me to do?" he asked softly as his gaze raked over Harry's lean body. Dipping back down, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and then started to explore Harry's body with his tongue.
Harry gave a moan of pleasure that was muffled by the sound of rain falling outside. Neither of them noticed the lightning that mirrored the scar on Harry's forehead streak through the sky. Thunder rumbled and Harry knew there was only one thing he needed Draco to do.
"Just make me feel."
********************
Harry awoke hours later to the blackness of night. The rain outside was now only a drizzle but the cold wind still remained and it blew through the open door causing a chill to go up Harry's spine. He pulled the blankets tightly around himself and rested his head on the faded blue pillow. Then he remembered.
With a start, Harry sat up, looking around frantically but as he looked he realised that there was no evidence that another had been there at all. Malfoy...? he wondered in a daze. Had he even been here? Did he imagine it?
Harry climbed out of bed and went to close the sliding door. As he did he glanced down at his naked body and at the bite marks on his chest and shoulders. Harry frowned, realising that without a doubt the other man had been there. But when did he leave? Harry shivered again but was overcome with relief when the feeling of loss and loneliness didn't hit him as it usually did when he woke up. Instead he felt a sense of calm. With a faint smile on his face, Harry crossed the room, a sheet wrapped around his middle, and shut the sliding door with a bang.
Sighing Harry turned to go back to bed but there was something sitting on his bedside table that made him pause. Slowly Harry sat down on the bed and picked up the object. When he opened his hand he realised it was the diamond engagement ring. The one that he had thrown into the water.
Again Harry frowned for a moment but a smile pushed it's way to the surface. The ring was a sign from him. Things would have to go back to the way they always were...but not forever. Harry couldn't quite explain it but somehow he knew that whatever force had brought Draco to him that night would bring him back again. And together they would remember her. Together they would remind each other of what it was like to love. Together they would feel.
********************
Author: Summer Rain
Email: draco_dreamer@yahoo.com
Category: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/D
Rating: PG-13, possibly R
Summary: A distraught Harry finds comfort in an unlikely guest at Hermione's funeral.
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. They're all from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. No money is being made of this fic. It's all just a bit of fun. ^-^
Author's Note: The original fic took me about 2 hours to write. It was just an idea that had been annoying me for a few days and I just had to get it out of my system. At the time I didn't take the fic too seriously but lately I've been thinking about it and how I could improve it so I've done a little changing and tweaking of things. It's still not perfect but it'll do for now. A big thank you to all that read it and to the few that reviewed (Elise, complete*me and Misty - you guys rock). Now on with the show. ^-^
********************
The wind whistled loudly through the trees and a chill ran down Harry Potter's spine. There was a storm on the horizon. Could there be a more perfect day for this? he wondered bitterly as he forced himself to raise his eyes and thank the last guest for attending. It was Percy and Penelope Weasley and they uncomfortably offered their condolences before practically running from the cemetery. Harry knew the feeling. Muggle cemeteries had always creeped him out too.
And now he had even more reason to hate them. For today they had buried the only girl that Harry Potter would ever love. The only girl that ever made him forget that he was famous for having dead parents and a stupid scar on his forehead. The only girl that made him feel that he was worth everything he was given. Absently Harry lifted a hand and ran it over his lightning shaped scar before closing his eyes and trying to flatten his thick longish black hair over it. It's all my fault, he thought, his emerald green eyes filling with tears. If only I could have stopped Lord Voldemort from bringing the fight to me and to Hermione. If only I'd been able to keep her safe.
But Hermione Granger was dead and Harry would never forgive himself. Only a week ago he'd once and for all beaten the man - no, monster - that plagued his nightmares and tortured his memories but Harry couldn't celebrate. Because Hermione had died at the hand of Lord Voldemort while trying to help Harry and for that there was no excuse. It was his fault that he would no longer hear the sound of her voice or watch her try and fix her long curly hair while reading four books at once. She would never again tell him off for neglecting his studies while he was at Hogwarts or cheer for him while he played Quidditch for England. She would never do anything again because she was dead.
Not being able to hold in the pain another second Harry collapsed to the ground, sobbing. Seconds later he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around him and a head buried itself in his shoulder. However, Harry couldn't hug them back. When the blinding pain and torture inside him ended all Harry could feel was numb. He felt no emotion for any other person. I'll probably kill them too, he reasoned.
"I was so worried Harry," a deep voice mumbled into his shoulder. Harry identified the person hugging him as his other best friend Ron Weasley. "You've been so emotionless since...since it happened. I thought you were in shock...Or denial. It's as if you don't feel anything. You should let it all out. Just let it all out." Harry could hear the pain in his friend's voice but somehow he couldn't bring himself to say anything comforting or even respond at all. The mere sound of Ron's voice brought back millions of memories, all in which included Hermione in some way.
"I have to go," Harry choked out. "I can't be here anymore." He pulled himself out of Ron's grip and stood up. Through misty eyes he could make out the outlines of the rest of the Weasley family, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and even Snape and finally Hermione's parents who were the ones that had insisted they have the funeral and burial in the Muggle world. Harry knew they hated him. After all he had been Hermione's wizard boyfriend and from the way they spoke whenever magic folk were around it indicated that they saw the wizarding world as a dark, dangerous place. A place that had taken their only child from them.
"Harry?" Ron's voice was confused and strained. Harry took no notice. There was nothing these people could do for him anymore. Without another look Harry turned and fled the cemetery. He just ran not knowing where he was going or how he was going to get back. He ran, tripping over rocks and stones. One finally caught the edge of his pants and Harry tumbled down, hitting the dirt with a thud. His knee skinned the ground, ripping the knee of his black pants open, his glasses falling off his face in the impact. Harry didn't even feel it when the deep cut on his knee began to bleed. Blindly he stuck out his hands and searched for his glasses. Finally his fingers closed over something and he picked it up. Squinting he inspected it and felt his stomach drop when he realised what it was. Roughly he shoved the object into his pocket and searched for his glasses again. Finding them he put them on, ignoring the crack that had appeared over his left eye, clouding his vision and stared off into space. It was then did he notice his bleeding knee. He lent over to look at it but instead of trying to stop the blood that was now soaking into his pants and dripping down his leg, he just watched. He watched the shiny red liquid with almost a blood lust. He wanted to see the blood. He wanted his knee to hurt. But it didn't. Still he felt nothing.
A shout from the cemetery reached his ears and Harry looked up with tired eyes in time to see Ron running towards him. Just go away Ron, Harry thought, wishing his friend would get the hint and leave him alone. He wanted nothing to do with anyone anymore, especially Ron. Ron was their best friend. He knew Harry and Hermione almost as well as they knew each other and Harry knew he couldn't let himself be close to Ron anymore. He couldn't let Ron meet the same sort of end Hermione did.
Without thinking about it for another second Harry closed his eyes and Apparated.
When he opened them again he was sitting on the floor of the dirty, trashy motel room that he'd been staying in - no, hiding in - for the last week. Harry couldn't bear to be around Wizards anymore. It hurt too much. For half of his life Harry had believed that he was nothing more than a Muggle. And that's what I need to be again, he thought, standing up and walking over to the sliding doors on the other side of the room. Because I didn't meet Hermione until I joined the wizarding world. And none of this Voldemort crap was known to me until then either. It had been a nice fantasy to begin with. A place that poor, abused little Harry could escape too but something went wrong and Harry wanted out. He slid the door open and walked out onto the balcony, letting the wind whip through his hair. The smell of rain mixed with salt was on the air and the roaring sea below drowned out Harry's thoughts and cleared his mind.
"It's time for me to wake up from this dream," Harry whispered as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small diamond engagement ring. It was the thing that had fallen out of his pocket back at the cemetery. He'd been carrying it for weeks now. Harry loved Hermione more than life itself and he had been planning to tell her that. He'd been planning on asking her to be his wife but it was the night that he and Hermione had been having a private romantic dinner, the night that Harry wanted to try again to propose on, did Voldemort attack. Harry never got to tell her exactly how he felt.
He thought he was going to breakdown again. But as he stared at the ring, he couldn't. He had no feeling left. Lifting his head, Harry stared out at where the waves were pounding against the cliff that the motel was situated on. For a moment Harry wondered what it would be like to be in those waves. To have the sharp rocks hitting his body, cutting his skin. Would he feel anything then? The ring still clasped tightly in his left hand, Harry gripped the railing with his other and continued to stare down at the rocks.
********************
He wasn't sure how long he stood there for but when Harry looked up from the waves the sky was turning a deep purple colour as the sun set behind the horizon. Harry stared at it listlessly. Hermione had always loved sunsets. Hermione had always--
"Potter."
The voice interrupted Harry's thoughts and for a moment he just continued to stare out to sea, not comprehending that someone was talking to him. After all how could they be? He was alone in his motel room.
"Potter?"
The second time Harry finally snapped to it and turned his head to lock eyes with the silver-grey ones of a boy - no, man - that Harry hadn't seen in a long time.
"Malfoy?" Harry questioned wearily, not in the mood for Draco's taunts about Mudbloods and death. If Draco even looked as though he'd say something against Hermione, Harry wouldn't be responsible for his actions. He'd kill him. And what was he doing here anyway? How did he find him? Harry had been so careful to cloak his whereabouts from the wizarding world. "How did you get in here?" he asked. "How did you find me?"
Malfoy said nothing. He just held up his wand in a sort of explanation and walked silently over to where Harry stood and to Harry's surprise, lent against the railing as though he was planning on staying a while.
Confused, Harry found that for the first time in days he felt an emotion other than pain and torture bubble to the surface - anger - and he could talk without having to think carefully about what he was going to say in fear he might breakdown mid-sentence. "What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously. "I didn't think Malfoys visited the Muggle world often."
"We don't," Draco said simply as he stared out at the ocean.
"Then...?"
Draco tore his eyes from the water and looked at Harry. "I don't like you Potter," he said coldly. "But I couldn't not come to this. I had to say good bye. My father doesn't know I'm here."
Closing his eyes, Harry held a hand to his head, wincing at his head throbbed. "Malfoy," he snapped. "Quit the cryptics. What are you doing here? What are you doing in my room? And why?"
Draco didn't look in the mood to be giving straight answers. He curled his lip and looked back out to sea. Harry watched his profile carefully, wondering what exactly the younger Malfoy was planning. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.
"Do you know what it's like to feel alive?" Draco asked Harry suddenly. "To really live and know that what you're doing is making an impact in someone else's life?"
Harry hesitated. Draco sounded serious. But Harry wasn't about to fall into one of his traps. He would tread carefully. "Yes," he said hesitantly.
"I don't," Draco continued. "Not completely."
Harry groaned. "Malfoy what the hell does this have to do with me? Why can't you just leave me alone? Do you find some kind of sick pleasure in seeing me like this?" Harry pushed himself away from the railing, ready to leave. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Malfoy's crap today.
"She made me feel alive Potter."
Harry paused. What on Earth was Malfoy talking about? "What?" he asked, slowly turning around. Draco was watching him now, his face serious, his eyes swirling with emotion and longing. Harry watched as his shaggy blonde hair thrashed around in the wind which seemed to be getting even stronger by the second. For a moment Harry couldn't see the Draco Malfoy he knew. All he could see was a lost, vulnerable little boy.
"She made me feel alive," Draco repeated softly. "When...when I teased her...And when I taunted her and when I tortured her I could see in her eyes that I was making an impact. I was making her think and I knew that I could keep her thinking about the things I'd said for weeks. She acted like they didn't effect her, but I knew they did. Because when she said things to me, I knew I'd be going back to my room and thinking about them too. She was the only person that could ever hurt me Potter. She was the only person that ever made me feel."
Although the words stung him and made a sort of sense that even Harry couldn't explain, Harry was horrified. He stared at Draco, disgusted. How could this vile creature even think for a moment that his beautiful Hermione worried about anything he said? How could Draco say those things when he hated her so much? How could--
It finally hit Harry like a thousand Unforgivable Curses at once. "You loved her," he said flatly.
Draco paused for a moment. "Didn't you?" His voice was hoarse and he tore his eyes away from Harry's and stared out to sea again.
Harry didn't know what to think. For so long he'd believed that Draco only tormented Hermione because he knew that it would upset Harry but to think that Draco tormented her to get a reaction...It was cruel. It was wrong.
"How can you say you loved her, when you treated her like that?" Harry demanded angrily, reaching for his wand and stepping threateningly towards Draco. "How can you love someone and be so cruel? I don't care what sort of warped ideas on love you have Malfoy but Hermione never thought like that. And she would never have fallen for someone as evil and disgusting as you." He continued to step closer to Draco until he was only inches away from the other man's face.
Draco flinched slightly. "How can you say you love her and not understand what other men see in her?" he retorted. "I saw her fire Potter. I saw the fire that you tried so hard to put out. But it will never happen. You may have killed her but you will never kill Hermione's spirit."
Rage surged through Harry and he leaped at Draco, knocking him to the hard concrete floor. His wand discarded, Harry wrapped his fingers around Draco's neck and tried desperately to strangle the blonde wizard but seconds later he realised that Draco was not trying to fight back. He was laughing.
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded as he tightened his grip again. "Stop laughing!"
But this only made Draco's cruel cackle continue. Harry's blood boiled and he continued to squeeze until finally Draco started coughing and tried to speak.
"Isn't...isn't fate funny Potter?" he gagged. "Isn't it strange how you can hate someone with every fibre of your being but yet they're the only one that can ever really make you feel?"
Draco's words caught Harry off guard and for a second his grip slackened and Draco used that moment to push at him hard and knock Harry off his chest. Harry hit the railing behind him and sat panting, unable to think clearly. No wait that's the problem, Harry thought suddenly. I am thinking clearly. Ron's earlier words suddenly came to him. "You've been so emotionless since...since it happened. I thought you were in shock...Or denial. It's like you don't feel anything."
Feeling dirty and disgusting, Harry tried to pull himself to his feet but tripped and ended up on the floor again. His chin hit the railing and he winced in pain. He wouldn't let himself believe it. He couldn't believe that Draco Malfoy was anything but an evil person that was trying to ruin his life by playing stupid little mind games.
Draco's laugh faded as he sat up, clutching his chest with his left hand. In the other was a diamond ring. His face was once again serious.
"Give me that!" Harry demanded wrenching the ring out of his hands. He hadn't even realised he'd dropped it. Harry stood up, while looking down at the ring and all of a sudden the emotion hit him again and Harry bowed his head, trying desperately not to cry in front of Draco. She's gone. She's gone, Harry kept repeating in his head.
Suddenly with a roar of anger Harry threw the ring with all his might and watched as it sailed through the air and then disappeared into the depths of the roaring ocean, crashing on the rocks below. Harry couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his vision blurred.
To his surprise, Draco did not start laughing again. Instead he moved closer to Harry and stood beside him. So close that Harry could hear every breath, every whisper.
"Just fuck off Malfoy," Harry barked, trying to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.
Draco didn't move. "Do you remember what Hermione looked like when she cried?" Draco asked in an almost gentle tone. "Do you remember the way she used to wipe her eyes and blink so it looked like she wasn't crying at all?"
Harry drew in a shaky breath, unsure to whether Draco was serious or if he was playing his stupid games again. Harry pulled his glasses off and wiped his own eyes before putting them back on and bringing them up to meet Draco's.
Draco stared at him for a moment before reaching into his robes and pulling out his wand. He pointed it at Harry's glasses and Harry heard him mutter something "reparo" before the crack across Harry's left eye immediately repaired. Harry didn't know whether to thank him, hit him or cry again for Hermione. Finally Harry decided to act as though nothing had happened.
"I remember," he said hoarsely, noticing as Draco put his wand away that his expression was pained. "And the way her eyes flashed angrily when she was mad. Her eyes were more vicious than her mouth ever was."
Draco nodded. "Her eyes were pretty special," he agreed leaning on the balcony railing again. "Do you remember when she hit me in our third year? Scared the shit outta me. I thought she was going to hex me or something. She should have hexed me...Wouldn't have been as bad as the humiliation I felt."
Harry felt a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. "Hitting a Malfoy," he mused. "Only my 'Mione would do that." Harry paused. What was he doing? Reminiscing with the enemy? Was he insane? However, as Draco continued to talk about the things Hermione used to do Harry found himself reaching a sort of peace. Who would have thought?
"I remember when--" Draco cut himself off as though realising he didn't want to share that story. He looked up to the sky, as a light shower of rain was starting to fall.
"What?" Harry asked warily, ignoring the rain.
Finally Draco smiled a sly smile and suddenly looked a lot more like the Draco Harry knew and hated. "She kissed me once," he said triumphantly, savouring the look on Harry's face.
Harry's mouth fell open. "She did not," he retorted. "She would never...She...When?"
Draco shrugged and looked away. "Final year. She was teaching a group of Gryffindors how to play Spin the Bottle...Apparently it's some stupid Muggle game when you have to spin a bo--"
"I know what it is," Harry interrupted, wishing Draco would just hurry up and get to the point. He and Hermione had been dating in their seventh year and she had never mentioned a kiss.
"Right," Draco drawled. "I forgot. Anyway me, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle decided to join in, she spun the bottle, and it landed on me. So...I think you can fill in the blanks..." He shrugged.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Draw me a picture," he said flatly. "Pretend I can't."
Draco rolled his eyes. "No need to get jealous Potter. She's dead."
Harry felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. "Fine," he snapped, turning away, the reality of what was happening finally hitting him. "I don't know what you're doing here anyway. I think it's time you left..."
But before he knew what was happening, Draco had also turned around. One of his hands slid behind Harry's head, weaving itself though his dark hair and the other rested gently on his shoulder. And then without hesitation a pair of lips came crashing down onto his in a forceful, but gentle kiss. Harry froze, unable to react. From the way the hands rested behind his head and on his shoulder...Harry could almost pretend it was her...
Seconds later Draco pulled away, breaking the kiss. "That's what it was like," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Was that picture realistic enough for you?" he asked bitterly. "Although I suppose you already knew what it was like to kiss her."
Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. The ache in his stomach was growing and Harry felt like his heart was being ripped in half. He missed her so much. He missed every little thing about her. The way she kissed him, the way she touched him, the way she loved him.
"Kiss me again," Harry found himself pleading. "Please. I need her...I need...I just--"
Draco's lips didn't hesitate another second before planting themselves upon Harry's. He ran his tongue along Harry's bottom lip, urging them to open and when they did their tongues intertwined in a hot, passionate embrace driven by longing and pain. They both knew what the other was missing and they both knew how to get it back.
Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and pressed his body up against the other man's. Harry let out a whimper as he ran a hand down Draco's body, knowing that the curves he felt weren't where they should be. He knew it wasn't her but he didn't care. He needed something to make him feel. To make him live again. And in one kiss Draco Malfoy was helping The Boy Who Lived really live again.
Panting heavily they broke apart at the same moment, their eyes searching the other's, knowing that what they were doing was wrong, but also knowing it felt so right. Draco had lied when he said that only one person made him feel alive. There was another. And he was standing right in front of him.
With a rough hand Draco reached up and pushed Harry's now wet hair away from his forehead. The rain was beginning to come down heavily. With an intense gaze, he ran his fingers down the scar that made Harry Potter so famous. By the look on Draco's face, Harry was certain he was about to pull away in disgust but he never did.
"Hermione used to do that," Harry whispered finally. "She used to run her fingers down my scar and then through my hair and then she'd start kissing me. All over my face until finally reaching my mouth and kissing me gently. Then she'd tell me that to her I would always be more than a scar or a legend."
"Like this?" Draco whispered back before running his fingers down the scar and then through Harry's thick black hair, pushing the wet mop away from his forehead. Carefully he kissed Harry's forehead before pulling off his glasses and kissing his closed eyelids. He replaced the glasses and then kissed Harry's nose making Harry sigh. He hesitated before kissing Harry as gently as he could on his lips. Then he lent up so he could whisper in Harry's ear.
"To me Potter," he spat out bitterly. "You'll always be more than a scar or a legend. I'll hate you like I've hated no other but I'll touch you as though it's you I've wanted all along. You're not her but you're all I'll ever have."
Harry froze as he realised the full extent of what he was doing. Draco was the enemy. His father had been in league with Voldemort. He'd spent half his life tormenting Harry and his friends but yet Harry couldn't let go. He needed Draco like he needed no other. Harry smirked and he whispered back, "The feeling is completely mutual." He then pressed his lips roughly to Draco's while his hands slid down the arms of the other wizard and tugged at the clasps that held the robes to his slim body. He couldn't stand to be alone another second.
Draco got the message and slipped Harry's coat off his shoulders before starting on the buttons of his dress shirt. Together they touched and kissed and undressed as Draco pushed Harry back through the sliding door and over to the double bed that lay in the middle of the room. A trail of clothes, Muggle and Wizard, marked the path that they took. Draco pushed Harry hard and together they landed on the bed. Harry caught Draco's bottom lip in his teeth and bit down. Draco moaned and in reply pulled the last of Harry's clothes from his body.
Panting heavily, Draco pushed himself up, his hands on either side of Harry's head. "What do you want me to do?" he asked softly as his gaze raked over Harry's lean body. Dipping back down, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and then started to explore Harry's body with his tongue.
Harry gave a moan of pleasure that was muffled by the sound of rain falling outside. Neither of them noticed the lightning that mirrored the scar on Harry's forehead streak through the sky. Thunder rumbled and Harry knew there was only one thing he needed Draco to do.
"Just make me feel."
********************
Harry awoke hours later to the blackness of night. The rain outside was now only a drizzle but the cold wind still remained and it blew through the open door causing a chill to go up Harry's spine. He pulled the blankets tightly around himself and rested his head on the faded blue pillow. Then he remembered.
With a start, Harry sat up, looking around frantically but as he looked he realised that there was no evidence that another had been there at all. Malfoy...? he wondered in a daze. Had he even been here? Did he imagine it?
Harry climbed out of bed and went to close the sliding door. As he did he glanced down at his naked body and at the bite marks on his chest and shoulders. Harry frowned, realising that without a doubt the other man had been there. But when did he leave? Harry shivered again but was overcome with relief when the feeling of loss and loneliness didn't hit him as it usually did when he woke up. Instead he felt a sense of calm. With a faint smile on his face, Harry crossed the room, a sheet wrapped around his middle, and shut the sliding door with a bang.
Sighing Harry turned to go back to bed but there was something sitting on his bedside table that made him pause. Slowly Harry sat down on the bed and picked up the object. When he opened his hand he realised it was the diamond engagement ring. The one that he had thrown into the water.
Again Harry frowned for a moment but a smile pushed it's way to the surface. The ring was a sign from him. Things would have to go back to the way they always were...but not forever. Harry couldn't quite explain it but somehow he knew that whatever force had brought Draco to him that night would bring him back again. And together they would remember her. Together they would remind each other of what it was like to love. Together they would feel.
********************