Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rowling, and the actual story belongs to my friend.
Summary: Sequel to Rain and Tears.
// \\'s around stuff means memories ( or maybe voices in Harry's head? I denno, she never
really said.)
*
What's the Difference?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memories come to you when you least need them. Harry knows about this, he's been clutching at
memory for two years now. Voldemort was gone, defeated and destroyed thanks to The Boy Who Lived. But somehow it seemed . . . pointless. Everything seemed pointless after Draco-
/No! Don't think that yet,/ Harry thought to himself, /Thinking that won't do any good./
//"What good will anything be if you give up Harry?"\\
Draco . . .
//"Harry, come on! You have to smile, for *me* anyway!"\\
Smile, Draco's smile lit up Harry's whole world, it made him try.
//"There we go, love, that's better."\\
It made everything worth it.
"Harry, you have to eat something!" Hermione kept trying to bring him back, she couldn't give
up on her friend.
"Please Harry, get up, get on with your life! Do you think Draco would have--"
Ginny didn't get to finish, Harry did get up, to strike her across the face. The force of the
blow snapped her head to the side, a red handprint already forming across her cheek.
"You have no right . . ." Harry whispered with vehemence, ". . . no right to say his name."
"Harry--"
"Leave, now." Harry turned back and stared out the window, gazing at the cloudy afternoon.
Memory swept him in.
//"This is all wrong. I'm supposed to be seducing *you*."
Draco smiled sweetly above him, "What's the difference?"\\
Harry cried.
A ledge of a tall tower loomed against the dark clouds eerily. Dumbledore insisted Harry live
at Hogwarts though he had graduated. Harry wouldn't look after himself. They didn't
understand. They never got to wake up to golden locks and eyes of endless blue. Porcelain
skin that was softer than an autumn breeze and a voice smoother than snakeskin. They didn't
know how addictive it was. How addictive HE was.
Harry stood on the slippery ledge, wind slapping him harshly, viciously whipping the old
green and silver scarf around his neck. The air was cold, tense, the electric anticipation of the
approaching storm was thick enough to see.
//"Do you think people can fly, Harry?"
"People can fly on brooms."
"I mean like on their own, like jumping off a high rock or something."
"That's jumping, Draco."
Draco smiled sadly from where he was sitting by the window, "What's the difference?"\\
Harry held his arms out and took a step back.
Harry had jumped, watching the heavens.
//"Draco . . ."\\
Inside, Harry flew, watching himself and Draco.
//"I love you . . ."\\
But what's the difference?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: Yeh, another angsty fic . . . she gave this one to me in class too. I was all whimpery
for the rest of the period . . . *sigh*
Summary: Sequel to Rain and Tears.
// \\'s around stuff means memories ( or maybe voices in Harry's head? I denno, she never
really said.)
*
What's the Difference?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memories come to you when you least need them. Harry knows about this, he's been clutching at
memory for two years now. Voldemort was gone, defeated and destroyed thanks to The Boy Who Lived. But somehow it seemed . . . pointless. Everything seemed pointless after Draco-
/No! Don't think that yet,/ Harry thought to himself, /Thinking that won't do any good./
//"What good will anything be if you give up Harry?"\\
Draco . . .
//"Harry, come on! You have to smile, for *me* anyway!"\\
Smile, Draco's smile lit up Harry's whole world, it made him try.
//"There we go, love, that's better."\\
It made everything worth it.
"Harry, you have to eat something!" Hermione kept trying to bring him back, she couldn't give
up on her friend.
"Please Harry, get up, get on with your life! Do you think Draco would have--"
Ginny didn't get to finish, Harry did get up, to strike her across the face. The force of the
blow snapped her head to the side, a red handprint already forming across her cheek.
"You have no right . . ." Harry whispered with vehemence, ". . . no right to say his name."
"Harry--"
"Leave, now." Harry turned back and stared out the window, gazing at the cloudy afternoon.
Memory swept him in.
//"This is all wrong. I'm supposed to be seducing *you*."
Draco smiled sweetly above him, "What's the difference?"\\
Harry cried.
A ledge of a tall tower loomed against the dark clouds eerily. Dumbledore insisted Harry live
at Hogwarts though he had graduated. Harry wouldn't look after himself. They didn't
understand. They never got to wake up to golden locks and eyes of endless blue. Porcelain
skin that was softer than an autumn breeze and a voice smoother than snakeskin. They didn't
know how addictive it was. How addictive HE was.
Harry stood on the slippery ledge, wind slapping him harshly, viciously whipping the old
green and silver scarf around his neck. The air was cold, tense, the electric anticipation of the
approaching storm was thick enough to see.
//"Do you think people can fly, Harry?"
"People can fly on brooms."
"I mean like on their own, like jumping off a high rock or something."
"That's jumping, Draco."
Draco smiled sadly from where he was sitting by the window, "What's the difference?"\\
Harry held his arms out and took a step back.
Harry had jumped, watching the heavens.
//"Draco . . ."\\
Inside, Harry flew, watching himself and Draco.
//"I love you . . ."\\
But what's the difference?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: Yeh, another angsty fic . . . she gave this one to me in class too. I was all whimpery
for the rest of the period . . . *sigh*