Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will I ever own Harry Potter or any of his
friends, enemies, or associates.
Author's Note: This story contains slash. This chapter runs at roughly the same time as the previous one; I hope it makes sense. This is a kind of train-of-thought experiment thingy, and I don't know if it works. Please tell me, either way.
A Mid-Air Collision, Narrowly Avoided By maudlinrose
Harry Potter loves Draco Malfoy, and Harry thinks that Draco knows.
Harry thinks this mainly because Draco always seems to be around, smirking and muttering rude things. Draco certainly acts like he knows - he's becoming more and more determined, in his efforts to upset Harry.
Harry doesn't blame him. If Harry thought that his worst enemy was in love with him - actually, being that his worst enemy is Voldemort, the situation would be too ludicrous for words.
But Harry loves Draco, and Draco knows, obviously, and it'll all be over school soon, like the Parselmouth thing and the Heir of Slytherin thing. Harry would be suicidal, if he weren't in Gryffindor and therefore not the type to commit suicide, unless it saves lives.
Unrequited love is the very worst feeling in the world - a twisted sort of emotion that never does anybody any good. If there was any chance that maybe someday Draco would return the emotion - but there isn't, and Harry would be better off just stifling that line of thought.
He seeks solace in his friends. There's nothing complex about Harry's relationships with Hermione and Ron; a common bond of loyalty and shared experience tie them together. They've always been there for Harry, and he has no reason to suppose that will ever change.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Harry tries so very hard to be ordinary, only he's not, and the one area of his life where he thought he might be able to be - personal relationships - has turned into some kind of sick fantasy.
Harry has been withdrawing from normal human contact since the end of fourth year. In a way, his love for Draco is not, therefore, unusual. Loving someone who cannot and will not ever return the emotion works out well for someone trying to avoid entanglement. Loving Draco means avoiding Draco, for Draco is pain because Draco knows. Harry knows that Draco knows.
There is no end to knowledge.
Harry has stopped reacting to Draco's taunts. He can't even stand to look at Draco, afraid of what he might see reflected in those grey eyes. Pale eyes, his, the eyes of a genius or a madman. Pale eyes that seem to follow him wherever he goes, and pale lips which smirk and smile and.
Harry is alone with Ginny Weasley. She's nice, Ron's little sister. They look good together, an unconscious parody of Harry's own dead parents. They kiss, as they're supposed to, and Harry is planning on asking her to Hogsmeade one weekend. Eventually, he'll admit to loving her, and one day, maybe, he'll feel the emotion. For now, they smile at each other over the breakfast table.
And all the while, Draco smirks at Harry, like he knows something.
It hadn't happened overnight, Harry's love for Draco. There was no moment of realisation, no blinding millisecond of revelation. There wasn't a day where it started, and there won't be a day where it ends. Gryffindors are loyal. Harry will love Draco until one of them dies, or both. Possibly not even then, assuming that ghosts feel emotion.
The entire situation is strange. Harry's never going to be able to take Draco home to his family, and it's not just that all his family either hate him or don't breathe.
Once upon a time, two people saw in each other something so wonderful and so rare that they could not help but fall in love. Their love for one another was conveyed in longing looks and heartfelt sighs. Eventually, they got married and had a son. The lucky two lived in a state of bliss, until an evil wizard came and brutally murdered them.
Once upon a time, Harry fell in love with Draco. And Draco found out. Harry is waiting for the axe to fall, and he's hoping desperately he'll manage to avoid the fatal blow. It would be so easy, though, for Draco to break Harry. Everybody has a breaking point, and Harry's is far easier to find than anyone would suspect.
Love. Harry doesn't really know the meaning of the emotion, except he knows that love is the only word that comes close to what he feels for Draco. Destroy his chance to be loved in return - a trite phrase, certainly, but accurate - and it'd destroy Harry.
Quidditch. Flying has always felt to Harry like the ultimate freedom, except for all the times where somebody has tried to kill him in the air. Quidditch is the one time where Harry can feel somewhat free, except that everyone expects him to win all the time. Okay, so maybe Quidditch isn't all that great, freedom-wise, but Harry isn't the type to really think about phallic symbols. But he likes it, ever so much, and if someone took away Harry's chance to pretend he's normal, they'd harm him beyond repair.
Harry thinks that maybe Draco knows these things about him. He seems to know a lot, Draco.
Loving Draco Malfoy makes the games against Slytherin infinitely harder for Harry. Draco sneers, and smirks, and tries to knock Harry off his broom. Harry cringes and tries to ignore him.
It's made the games that much more exciting for the spectators.
It happens in the season final, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Both Seekers, circling at opposite ends of the pitch, catch sight of the Snitch, hovering innocently in the exact centre of the field. For the first time in months, Harry and Draco make eye contact. A look of determination forms in Harry's eyes. Draco is smirking, as expected. They race headlong, straight towards each other.
At the very last second possible, right before they crash into one another, and one of them catches the Snitch, they both swerve suddenly. They miss each other by inches.
The crowd cheers, loudly.
The game continues.
A mid-air collision, narrowly avoided.
Author's Note: This story contains slash. This chapter runs at roughly the same time as the previous one; I hope it makes sense. This is a kind of train-of-thought experiment thingy, and I don't know if it works. Please tell me, either way.
A Mid-Air Collision, Narrowly Avoided By maudlinrose
Harry Potter loves Draco Malfoy, and Harry thinks that Draco knows.
Harry thinks this mainly because Draco always seems to be around, smirking and muttering rude things. Draco certainly acts like he knows - he's becoming more and more determined, in his efforts to upset Harry.
Harry doesn't blame him. If Harry thought that his worst enemy was in love with him - actually, being that his worst enemy is Voldemort, the situation would be too ludicrous for words.
But Harry loves Draco, and Draco knows, obviously, and it'll all be over school soon, like the Parselmouth thing and the Heir of Slytherin thing. Harry would be suicidal, if he weren't in Gryffindor and therefore not the type to commit suicide, unless it saves lives.
Unrequited love is the very worst feeling in the world - a twisted sort of emotion that never does anybody any good. If there was any chance that maybe someday Draco would return the emotion - but there isn't, and Harry would be better off just stifling that line of thought.
He seeks solace in his friends. There's nothing complex about Harry's relationships with Hermione and Ron; a common bond of loyalty and shared experience tie them together. They've always been there for Harry, and he has no reason to suppose that will ever change.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Harry tries so very hard to be ordinary, only he's not, and the one area of his life where he thought he might be able to be - personal relationships - has turned into some kind of sick fantasy.
Harry has been withdrawing from normal human contact since the end of fourth year. In a way, his love for Draco is not, therefore, unusual. Loving someone who cannot and will not ever return the emotion works out well for someone trying to avoid entanglement. Loving Draco means avoiding Draco, for Draco is pain because Draco knows. Harry knows that Draco knows.
There is no end to knowledge.
Harry has stopped reacting to Draco's taunts. He can't even stand to look at Draco, afraid of what he might see reflected in those grey eyes. Pale eyes, his, the eyes of a genius or a madman. Pale eyes that seem to follow him wherever he goes, and pale lips which smirk and smile and.
Harry is alone with Ginny Weasley. She's nice, Ron's little sister. They look good together, an unconscious parody of Harry's own dead parents. They kiss, as they're supposed to, and Harry is planning on asking her to Hogsmeade one weekend. Eventually, he'll admit to loving her, and one day, maybe, he'll feel the emotion. For now, they smile at each other over the breakfast table.
And all the while, Draco smirks at Harry, like he knows something.
It hadn't happened overnight, Harry's love for Draco. There was no moment of realisation, no blinding millisecond of revelation. There wasn't a day where it started, and there won't be a day where it ends. Gryffindors are loyal. Harry will love Draco until one of them dies, or both. Possibly not even then, assuming that ghosts feel emotion.
The entire situation is strange. Harry's never going to be able to take Draco home to his family, and it's not just that all his family either hate him or don't breathe.
Once upon a time, two people saw in each other something so wonderful and so rare that they could not help but fall in love. Their love for one another was conveyed in longing looks and heartfelt sighs. Eventually, they got married and had a son. The lucky two lived in a state of bliss, until an evil wizard came and brutally murdered them.
Once upon a time, Harry fell in love with Draco. And Draco found out. Harry is waiting for the axe to fall, and he's hoping desperately he'll manage to avoid the fatal blow. It would be so easy, though, for Draco to break Harry. Everybody has a breaking point, and Harry's is far easier to find than anyone would suspect.
Love. Harry doesn't really know the meaning of the emotion, except he knows that love is the only word that comes close to what he feels for Draco. Destroy his chance to be loved in return - a trite phrase, certainly, but accurate - and it'd destroy Harry.
Quidditch. Flying has always felt to Harry like the ultimate freedom, except for all the times where somebody has tried to kill him in the air. Quidditch is the one time where Harry can feel somewhat free, except that everyone expects him to win all the time. Okay, so maybe Quidditch isn't all that great, freedom-wise, but Harry isn't the type to really think about phallic symbols. But he likes it, ever so much, and if someone took away Harry's chance to pretend he's normal, they'd harm him beyond repair.
Harry thinks that maybe Draco knows these things about him. He seems to know a lot, Draco.
Loving Draco Malfoy makes the games against Slytherin infinitely harder for Harry. Draco sneers, and smirks, and tries to knock Harry off his broom. Harry cringes and tries to ignore him.
It's made the games that much more exciting for the spectators.
It happens in the season final, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. Both Seekers, circling at opposite ends of the pitch, catch sight of the Snitch, hovering innocently in the exact centre of the field. For the first time in months, Harry and Draco make eye contact. A look of determination forms in Harry's eyes. Draco is smirking, as expected. They race headlong, straight towards each other.
At the very last second possible, right before they crash into one another, and one of them catches the Snitch, they both swerve suddenly. They miss each other by inches.
The crowd cheers, loudly.
The game continues.
A mid-air collision, narrowly avoided.