***
In spring, the cherry blossoms on the cherry trees bloom, until all you could see is endless clouds of pale pink petals. And when the breeze flows by, so does a rain of petals follow, and as they fall, they kiss your hair and cheeks and lips and shoulders and everywhere, enveloping you with their scent and colour and velvety softness.
Draco stands under such a cherry tree now, and all around him are similar cherry trees too, forming a pretty lane around the Hogwarts lake. A small breeze, and several petals fall eagerly from the flowers in hope of brushing such beauty as the one stood below them. One touches his brow, and one gets to settle on his silver hair. One brushes against his white cheek, and one gets to settle on his shoulder. One is blinked off his left eye, and the luckiest petal of all gets to kiss those lips of his, so red and soft that the petal whirls upwards instead of down before fluttering to the ground.
There is no one in the cherry blossom lane, though unbeknownst to Draco, there are people watching him from the gardens and from the residence towers. Girls are blushing as they catch sight of him through the windows, whispering to each other, "Look! It's Draco Malfoy!" They gather into their friendship groups, giggling and casting furtive glances, daring each other to go and talk to him.
A boy is blushing, too, but he is alone, watching from his dorm window. There is a note in his hands – Meet me in the cherry blossom lane after lunch – and it is unsigned. He looks out the window again, and sees only Draco there, still leaning against the tree, still looking out over the lake.
The boy's heart gives a hard thump, and his blush deepens.
Is it from him? Is it from Draco?
The boy had received many such notes before, only to be met with red-faced girls stammering out awkward confessions of love – confessions that the boy never believed, never trusted, never felt anything for.
But now…
He glances at the cherry blossom lane, and Draco is still there, alone.
The boy turns and catches a glance of himself in his dresser mirror, and he's surprised at how flushed his cheeks are, how bright his eyes are shining. His lips are scarlet from the rush of blood to his face, and he licks them so they glisten in the light.
Draco…
The boy opens the door, and runs from his room.
---
"M-Malfoy?"
Draco turns his head slightly to look at him. "Yes, Potter?" A sparkle shines from Draco's left ear, and Harry's eyes fixate themselves on a small, silver hoop. Although, knowing Draco, it is probably platinum. When did Draco pierce it? Why?
"Are – did – um…I got – there –"
"Harry!" says a girl, from behind Harry. "I'm sorry I'm late!"
Harry spins around, eyes wide. "What?" he says.
"Oh. You're meeting someone. Well then," says Draco, and he turns to leave.
Harry is left on the stone path of the cherry blossom lane, petals swirling in the gentle wind, listening to the stuttering of another girl confessing their 'love'. "I'm sorry," Harry says. "I can't…"
"Is there someone else?"
Why do they always ask that?
"No."
"Is there…am I…"
"No."
"Then why…?"
"I'm sorry," Harry says, and watches as yet another girl runs off in tears.
---
Untouchable.
They call him untouchable, and part of him knows it's true.
Beautiful, they call him – too beautiful to behold, and he smiles a little behind their backs because he knows it's true, too.
Perfect, they call him, and that is when he hides his tears behind their backs because this, he knows, is not true.
---
Harry saw Draco rush into Potions late, and amidst the grumbles from the Gryffindors when Snape didn't even reprimand Draco, Harry caught sight of a few petals of cherry blossoms still clinging to Draco's robe.
"What were you doing, Draco?" Pansy asked, and Harry stirred his potion absently as he listened for Draco's answer.
"Fell asleep by the lake."
"You're covered in sakura petals," Pansy giggled, and Harry blushed at the sight of one clinging to Draco's collar, brushing lightly against the white of his neck.
Draco muttered something that Harry didn't understand, but he did hear the word 'sakura' again.
---
Draco likes to sit under the cherry blossom trees because they remind him of a time, long ago, before Hogwarts, before school, before dinner parties and business lunches and high tea with other distinguished families. They remind him of a time when his memory is now vague and blurred, when his father took him to business around the world with him, and Draco loved this place most of all in spring, because the cherry blossom petals would laugh and play with him in the gardens.
In Japan, few things are more beautiful than the cherry blossom trees in full bloom, and it was there that Draco fell in love with them, laughing as he twirled under the rain of petals.
---
Harry doesn't understand it, but his eyes constantly peer out of his window to scan the cherry blossom lane, hoping for a glimpse of silver amongst the pink and white.
If his eyes see what they seek, Harry would blush and smile to himself, and his heartbeats would speed up until all he could hear was the thundering of his blood rushing through his temples.
---
"Sakura no hanabira," Draco murmurs, as he catches a petal in his open palm. "Cherry blossom petals."
"Malfoy?"
Draco turns his head. "Potter," he says.
"What were you saying just now?"
"Cherry blossom petals."
"No, before that." Is Harry blushing?
"Sakura no hanabira."
Harry nods. "What does that mean?"
"Cherry blossom petals."
"…Malfoy?"
"Potter."
"Do you spend a lot of time here?"
Draco doesn't answer immediately.
"It's – it's alright if you don't want to answer!" Harry blurts out, and Draco raises an eyebrow at him. "I – I mean. Um." His eyes are cast onto the ground, fixed on the petals that are resting between blades of grass.
"Yes."
Harry pauses in the middle of his own rambling and looks up, green eyes meeting silver, shocked. "Oh!"
Draco pushes himself off the tree trunk, shaking off a few petals as he does so. "I'll see you around, Potter."
"Oh, sure. Yup," Harry says, waving as Draco turns his back to him. "I'll see you in class."
Draco tilts his head slightly to the right as he walks back to the castle, wondering about Harry.
---
Hitomi ni kuchizukete
and Draco wakes up with a start, looks around him, sees nothing.
Sits up, hand to forehead, dizzy.
Mind whirling with images, soft lips, sakura petals.
Shakes head, scowling, angry.
Pulls his robe on, ties the belt, puts on his slippers.
Opens door, looks up and down the corridor, no one is there.
One foot out, then the other, then closes door.
Dark, dark, moonlight.
Moonlight, moonlight, dark.
The lane, the trees, the petals.
Draco drinks in the scent of the blossoms, tilting his head back, absorbing the glow of the moon filtering between the cherry blossoms.
Shake, tremble, fall.
Flutter, twirl, whisper.
Petal on Draco's lips, balancing, quivering in the chilly night air.
Puff, smile, petal flutters gently to the ground.
Whisper of fabric behind, whirl around, wand poised.
"Who is it?" low, tightly.
"Wait –" urgently, hesitantly.
Rustling, black hair, glowing green eyes.
"Potter, you –" "Yes, I –" "Why –"
Pause, wind blowing past, petals following.
Turn around, robes sweeping, stalk away.
Silence on the cherry blossom lane, heaviness weighing down the petals, no longer shaking from the wind.
---
The wind that blows now is warmer, gentler, and caresses your cheeks as it passes by. No more rain of petals follow, but a few lone petals will still endeavour to chase after the wind. Summer is approaching, and the air is thick with the sent of cherry blossoms as they ripen and whole flowers drop heavily from the still green branches dotted with dabs of light pink. The ground is littered with these scattered blossoms, those in the lane trampled and crushed under careless feet, their thick, heady perfume wafting up from the dirt.
Draco stands under the same tree, arms at his sides, palms pressed against the bark behind him. He doesn't notice Harry walking down the lane, doesn't notice as Harry's face lights up, steps quickening, before appearing beside him. Harry wonders if it's at all possible to surprise Draco, and then supposes not when Draco's eyes turn to him, not even flickering as they register his sudden appearance.
"Malfoy," Harry says, calmly.
"Potter," Draco says, just as calmly, even more blankly.
There is silence, and yet not, because the wind whispers secrets into Harry's ear that makes him blush, though his mind could not comprehend those hidden words. Muffled sounds of laughter from the field behind them make Draco purse his lips almost disdainfully; he is above any form of expressed emotion. It is not to be denied, the fact that Draco has matured into a stoic statue of a young man – beautiful to look at and behold, but containing muted poison within his veins.
Harry catches himself staring, and looks away.
---
He dreams sometimes - bad dreams, naughty dreams...depraved dreams.
Perhaps it is because he is so carefully controlled that he dreams of having all his control taken away from him, leaving him begging, pleading, wantonly needing.
He dreams tonight, thin wrists clamped over his head by a large hand, legs spread by the figure kneeling between them - kneeling over him, whispering in a low voice, "You like this?"
"Yes," he pleads in a similar low whisper, looking to the wall on his right, too shy to meet the eyes staring down at him.
"If only you know how you look like this," the same voice murmured to him, even as cool lips trailed over the heated skin of his neck and collarbone. "Helpless under me – and yet not."
He whimpers, tossing his head from side to side, back arching and legs rising to twine around the hips of the one above him. The muscles in his arm strain, wrists bending, trying to free themselves to touch and stroke and claw. But the hand holding him was strong and sure and no matter how much he thrashed, he was unable to break free. Eyes watched him, amused, before lids lowered and a mouth descended upon his.
---
Green eyes met his across the Great Hall.
A blush – barely discernable, but nevertheless still there – warmed his cheeks, and he lowered his eyes at the memory of those eyes looking down at him in his dream, loving, tender, and thrilling all at the same time.
Ron jostles Harry, and the moment is broken and lost.
Harry's eyes have a strangely annoyed look to them.
---
Midnight, and Harry is surprised to find Draco at the cherry blossom lane, although now summer is so entrenched in the gardens that the trees are completely green, though under the pale silver moon, the world seems painted in shadows.
Draco seems distracted – agitated, almost, if it were possible. He sends an irritated look Harry's way when he hears him approach. Upon realisation that it is Harry, however, Draco turns and stares blankly ahead.
"Malfoy," Harry says. "You like being out at night, don't you?"
"Same to you, Potter," Draco says, and he sounds as if he's trying not to be too irritated.
"The rules that apply during the day don't apply during the night," Harry says, moving closer.
"Is it so?" Draco says, and he sounds bored.
"Mhm," Harry murmurs. "Everything is different at night – perhaps this is why the really important only happen once night has fallen."
"Normal people sleep, Potter."
"And normal people miss the chance for the extraordinary, Malfoy."
Draco slinks away from the shadow in which he had taken cover. "What do you mean, Potter?" And Harry can hear it now – the clear agitation in Draco's voice. He can see it too – the black slivers of nervousness amongst the reflective silver of Draco's eyes.
"I mean nothing, Malfoy," Harry says, and watches as Draco sends him an irritated look and stalks back to the castle.
---
Harry dreams of cherry blossoms and Draco Malfoy looking up at him from a bed of pale pink petals, with more raining down from the ceiling.
He wakes up to find his sheets wet and stained, but this is not an unusual occurrence anymore, and he cleans it quickly with a spell before sighing Draco's name into his pillow.
---
It is Harry who is unsettled now, as Draco fixes his stare on him. Cherry blossom petals are swirling around Draco, blown by a wind not felt by skin.
They are inside the Charms classroom, and they are alone.
The faint scent of the blossoms tickle Harry's senses, and he blinks slowly at Draco, who is frozen in his position.
The petals keep falling from the ceiling, and they begin to pile up around Draco. No petal is blown towards Harry, however, and only their perfume lingers in the wind that does.
Draco ignores Harry, and turns his back to him.
"Malfoy," Harry whispers.
"Leave," Draco says quietly.
Screwing up every ounce of courage, Harry steps close. "No," he said.
"Leave," Draco says again, just as quietly.
"No," Harry says again.
"What do you want."
"You."
"Fuck off, Potter." Draco's voice is harsh now, and the usual silk of his words is torn to shreds.
"Malfoy." Harry is nothing but patience itself. "I'm serious. You know what I'm talking about. You know what I mean."
"I do not." But he does, and they both know it.
Harry turns and walks out the door, and as it clicks shut behind him, he lets out a deep breath.
His hands are trembling with fear.
---
They are ruled by boundaries, unspoken laws that were set between them, developed as they grew and matured into the young men they are today. The boundaries had been shaken by war, by the unknowing, by the uncertainty shrouding all during that time, and the very laws that had seemed as steadfast as physics had become unsure as well. Neither had known how to respond when the boundaries faded and melded together, leaving areas in shadow when there had been light, and light when there had been shadow. But war had ended, and the boundaries rebuilt themselves on the same principles as before, until they were just as sturdy and just as constant.
Harry broke those boundaries by speaking those words to Draco, and both of them knew it. The other, unimportant people around them felt the subtle shift in the air around the two, but were unable to voice it.
Draco could voice exactly what had happened. Harry had done the unthinkable. He spoke words that both knew were unspeakable. And he had confessed to the impossible. The problem now was how Draco was to respond. Were he to ignore Harry's trespass of the rules, then there was almost no doubt that they would never be breached again. But if he were to give an answer, then the boundaries would never be rebuilt again.
As a Malfoy, he learnt to follow his head, his unshakable logic and cool calm thought. But even rationally, he knew the decision he should make – because the boundaries that rein them in now have changed from before, and Draco no longer has his own set of rules laid by his father.
Even with his detached analytical thought, he knew what he wanted deep inside.
He knew what his dreams were saying; he could read the fallen petals of the rotting cherry blossoms. And so he avoided the trees lining the path beside the Hogwarts lake, spending his sleepless nights tossing and turning in bed instead.
---
Harry was waiting for an answer. By the new moon, he knew Draco was going to give him an answer. Hermione and Ginny were rather mystified when Harry proposed a shopping trip at Hogsmeade one Saturday afternoon, rather than his usual activities of hanging around the Three Broomsticks.
They helped him buy new robes, and when Harry proposed a manicure and facial for the three of them, Hermione recoiled in horror and Ginny's jaw dropped open.
They went anyway.
---
Harry prepared for Draco's answer calmly. He spent his days as usual, doing homework, watching the fire, flying, and practising Quidditch.
Draco prepared for his answer nervously. He spent his time fidgeting, inspecting his nails, biting his lip, staring, and practising Quidditch.
---
When Draco screwed up every bit of courage he had and finally decided to tell Harry, he went down to the cherry blossom lane.
---
Summer is warm and dry, and the cherry blossom lane has become like any other. No petals remain, not even a spot of pink amongst the green, and Draco feels this loss acutely. The cherry blossoms have always been a source of calm for him, and for another year, they are gone. He hasn't charmed them to appear since the incident where he was caught by Harry, since Harry spoke those words to him, since Draco became obsessed with those words and the meaning and all the consequences that lay behind them.
Draco stands under a tree for a while, and sighs. No perfume lingers in the air – the fresh smell of grass and leaves and bark are harsh to his delicate senses. No petals flutter down from the branches above – the leaves that remain watch him from their perch, unlike the petals that had ridden the wind to try and be closer to Draco.
Draco would feel better if it is spring. But no matter, spring will come soon.
A rustle, and Draco whirls, robes flaring out at his ankles. "Potter," he breathes, and for a moment his mask is lost.
"Malfoy," Harry says shyly. "I…" He blushes. "I have a gift for you."
Draco raises an eyebrow. "Yes?"
A flick of the wand, and cherry blossom petals are raining down on them both, their scent and colour overwhelming Draco's senses. He holds his hands out, head tilted up to watch them float down towards him, swirling as if dangling by an unseen string. "Oh!" he cries softly, and the slate of his eyes cracks and melts away until all that is left is mercuric silver. "How did you learn…?"
"I wanted to give you something. I know – I know you like, um, so I, yeah, um…" Harry is watching him carefully, eyes catching every movement, every slight variation of expression. His cheeks are stained crimson. "Do you like it?"
Draco looks at Harry, then, square in the face, a serious gaze that hangs heavily between them. "Yes," he says finally, and Harry knows it's the answer to more than just his question.
---
Two weeks later, they graduated from Hogwarts, but Draco had familial obligations and Harry had promised to spend his summer with Ron and Hermione. They didn't see each other for two months, and when fall came around, Draco moved to France to study at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, and Harry stayed in England, working on obtaining a visa for France. Their only method of correspondence was the occasional letter sent between them, stiff pages of uneasy inquiries about the other's health and situation.
It was spring when they met again.
---
Harry shifted nervously in his seat. The bar at the Leaky Cauldron still managed to unnerve him even now. It had been eight months since he'd seen Draco at the Hogwarts graduation ceremony.
And then he saw him.
The crowd had parted, revealing a slim, blond man with long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. There was so much resemblance with Lucius Malfoy, and yet Harry could see by those eyes that this man was completely different. "Harry," he said.
"Draco," Harry replied.
"It's been a long time."
"Yes."
"How – how have you been?"
"I've been well."
"How – how's school?"
"Classes are well."
They sank into an uncomfortable silence, Harry still perched on the bar stool and Draco still standing before him.
"Harry," Draco said. "I want to take you somewhere."
---
"Oh!" Harry gasped as they arrived. "It's – it's beautiful!"
"Harry," Draco said, and Harry could hear the tremor in Draco's voice. "I – I – this – I used to come here when I was young. We're in one of the estates my family owns."
"Where are we?"
"Japan, Harry. I – I wanted to bring you here, because – because of the gift you gave me last year."
"Draco, I – "
"Please," Draco said, and Harry shut up immediately. "It meant a lot to me. And I want you to know why it meant so much to me."
"Draco, I…" But Harry didn't know what to say.
"I want you to live with me, Harry. I know this is an unconventional way of going about it, but when have we ever been conventional? We both left something at Hogwarts that should have begun years ago, and we are both adults now, Harry…" Draco trailed off, having apparently forgotten the rest of his speech.
"Draco…there is nothing I wish more than to be with you. I've been trying to get to France all year, but I can't apply for an EU resident permit without being registered at a university – your university – and they wouldn't, and wizards are only allowed three days instead of three months, the bastards, and I – your letters, I had almost lost hope…"
"Yours kept mine alive," Draco said, and he blinked away a cherry blossom petal that ended up brushing past his lips as he spoke. Harry followed the petal with his eyes, and fixated his gaze on Draco's lips.
"Draco," he said.
"Harry," he replied.
---
In spring, the cherry blossoms on the cherry trees bloom, until all you could see is endless clouds of pale pink petals. And when the breeze flows by, so does a rain of petals follow, and as they fall, they kiss your hair and cheeks and lips and shoulders and everywhere, enveloping you with their scent and colour and velvety softness.
Draco and Harry stand under such a cherry tree now, and all around them are similar cherry trees, forming a pretty grove in the Malfoy gardens. A small breeze, and several petals fall eagerly from the flowers in hope of glimpsing such love as the pair stood below them. One touches Harry's brow, and one settles on Draco's silver hair. One brushes against Harry's blushing cheek, and one settles on Draco's shoulder. One is blinked off Harry's left eye, and the luckiest petal of all gets to brush past their lips pressed together in a kiss, so soft and sweet that the petal whirls upwards instead of down before fluttering to the ground.
In Japan, few things are more beautiful than then cherry blossom trees in full bloom, and it is here that Draco falls in love, laughing as he twirls under the rain of petals before being pulled into another kiss by Harry.
In Japan, nothing is more beautiful than a first love in full bloom under a rain of sakura no hanabira.
The End.
More notes: Yay! Finished in time for my own stupid birthday! Yay! Heehee. Hope you enjoyed! The end is a bit rushed, but I like the beginning. What do you think? *hugs* to all – I'm legal now!
Oh, and I fixed the EU thing, heeheehee. Completely forgot about it – thank you for reminding me!
Much love,
venenatus.venustas