Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros. They are used here for entertainment purposes only.

Warnings: Slash. Het. Angst. Kisses.

Spoilers: Previously written story: Like Glass. Written Pre-OotP.

The Shattering
Chapter 3 - Fears and Choices

"I'm scared."

Harry blinked and stared at Draco for a moment, thrown. This was new. It was one of those new things he supposed he'd have to get used to, you know, now that he was dating Draco Malfoy. He thought maybe that he'd heard those words from Draco before, spilled grudgingly out to him on the cold, damp grass of the Quidditch Pitch. He might've even known when Draco was scared, back in the before years when they still hated each other, but this was new. This whispering confession, like it was a relief to tell Harry he was afraid. A weight off Draco's shoulders to remind Harry that he was human, and alive, and awfully young still.

And Draco's voice was hoarse in a way Harry had never heard it before, sort of rough and wet like he'd been talking for hours, even though Draco didn't talk for hours. He was more likely to sit and glare at you until you started babbling everything you'd ever done wrong, or if he wasn't mad he'd just sit and watch you with a patient, waiting expression on his face, like he was doing now.

Oh. Oh.

"Um... what?"

"I'm... Merlin, Potter, do you get a thrill out of this?" Draco spat out incredulously.

"No, it's just. I got lost in thought for a moment. It's odd, you know, you telling me you're scared. I was... enjoying it."

"Enjoying me being scared? Are we sure about this dating thing, Potter?"

"No," Harry chuckled, glad that through this whole little bypass from sanity Draco hadn't pulled away. He squeezed him closer. "No, I meant, the you telling me about it scenario. I like that."

"I'm also hungry. Does that make you happy?"

Harry kissed his forehead and watched in a amusement as Draco's brow wrinkled. "Oddly, yes it does."

Draco sighed and then let all the tension out of his muscles again, then directed a glare at the two third years who'd stopped dead in the doorway to the abandoned classroom he and Harry had had their little breakdown in. The girl blanched and fled, pulling her little boyfriend after. Draco closed his eyes and tried not to be annoyed that the door was still open, because he didn't feel like getting out of Harry's warm embrace to close it and get them some well deserved privacy.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Harry whispered in his hair.

"Well, I didn't get lunch because I couldn't bear sitting at the edge of that table and having everyone look at me-"

"No. I mean, that's awful and you should tell me that so that I can bring you food, or cast a spell on them or something to make you feel better, but I meant that I want you to tell me about being... you know... scared."

The last word was said in a whisper, as if the words being said at a certain level of volume had something to do with how comfortable Draco was with it. Apparently not, as he was sure he'd be just as embarrassed about the whole thing if Harry had yelled it from the highest tower of Hogwarts.

"I'm... I know a lot of things that could happen. Things Father could do. Things I would do, if our positions were reversed, but I have this impending sense of doom that very soon I'm going to find out for sure. That scares me, because... there's a difference between thinking you know how something is and being sure of it."

He cleared his throat of thickness and prepared himself to get the rest out, because it was reputed to be therapeutic to talk about these things with the person you were in a relationship with, and he didn't want to have to voice his fears more than once.

"It's like... I know, at least I'm awfully sure that they don't love me."

Harry's chest lifted and Draco was sure he was gathering breath to say something.

"No... I mean I'm very sure, so just... I'm sure, yes? I just... very soon I'm going to be completely sure, and there's no forgetting that sort of thing, and I'm not really looking forward to it."

"Draco... they love you," Harry offered, not really knowing what to say, because the truth was, if it was anyone else and their parents he'd believe his own words, but these were Malfoy's, and apparently the rules were different.

Draco was silent for a moment, wondering whether he could just nod and agree with Harry and forget about it for another day. Because all this worrying about it was exhausting, but still... still better than the knowing for sure that scared him so much and he still had to talk about it.

"I... don't think so. I wish... no, not really. It is the way it is. If they don't love me, I'll be crushed, but I'm expecting it. I'll have you. Have I thanked you for that?" He opened his eyes looked up at Harry, who'd opened his eyes too, and they had another one of those moments that had been few and far between since the whole world had found out about them and begun nosing in their business. The silent kind of falling moment that reminded Draco that this, this, was love and worth all the sacrifices and fighting and losing and dying that he'd scoffed at for years on end.

And then Harry's eyes slid closed, and Draco's felt heavy, and Harry's lips were on his and they were kissing and Draco was actually forgetting that the door was still standing open and the whole world was watching them.

* * *

Draco was happy, under that hazy kind of emotional spell Harry put on him when they were being honest and open and... naked with their clothes on. It was beautiful, and it made him wonder why his father thought it was such a weakness, being putty in another person's hands. Well, maybe that wasn't the proper metaphor to show the kind of strength his weakness for Harry gave him, but it fit. He was weak, in love with Harry Potter, and that made him strong. Strong and brave and courageous, and all the things he'd sneered at in Harry for years and secretly wished for.

And now he was waxing poetic, and wouldn't daddy be disgusted with that?

He sighed as he pushed his way around Goyle, who stared at him for a moment, as if he'd forgotten who Draco was, and then glared at the blond and stomped down that hall--away from their dorms. Which was all right with Draco because he didn't really want to have conversations with Goyle in any case.

Not that he was in denial about his level of bitterness or anything.

He kicked closed the dormitory door behind him, causing Blaise to look up from his open trunk, a dull, lost look in his eyes.

"Blaise?" Draco asked, then, awkwardly, "Are you... all right?"

"I got a letter."

"Oh." Oh. "Oh, that's good, I suppose?" Draco offered weakly, hoping against hope that Blaise, at least, would get some good news.

"They're transferring me to Beauxbatons. They say I've been... 'Adversely influenced by the atmosphere at Hogwarts Academy.'"

Draco dropped his books on his own trunk at the base of his bed and settled on the thick mahogany beside them. "That's..." oh, hell he was awful at this friend thing. "That's ridiculous. Do they mean me and Harry?"

"No, I think they mean Ginny Weasely."

Draco stared at him for a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes. Bugger. "How did they find out about that?"

"I told them." Blaise turned his back to Draco and began folding a robe and placing it neatly on his growing pile. "I thought... I don't know what I thought, but I didn't think this."

"You thought they'd love you and accept you."

Blaise stiffened, and then slammed his chest closed and whirled around to face Draco. "Yes. And they should've. They should still. This isn't-" he broke off before he said something stupid and whiny like 'This isn't fair.' and 'Why does this have to happen to me?'

They avoided looking at each other for a moment, and then Draco sagged back onto his bed, scooting off the edge of his trunk. "So, you're going then?"

Blaise sighed. "What choice do I have?"

Anyone else would find ways to give him flimsy hope, or tell him he could try for a scholarship, but Draco was a realist and knew that, in their world, there weren't many other choices.

Slytherin's weren't known for their hopeful attitudes.

Blaise shook his head and then kicked his trunk for good measure. "I'm... off to tell Ginny then."

"She'll cry."

Blaise stood and didn't even flinch at the offhand comment from his friend. "I know."

"She'll yell, too."

"Probably, yes."

"She'll start searching for ways to get you to stay here, she'll talk my boyfriend into helping, they'll try to convince you to stay anyway, and then try to convince Dumbledore to give you a scholarship."

"That sounds like something our significant others might come up with, yes."

"Maybe you shouldn't tell her, not yet. She'll just get all worked up. She'll... fight for you."

"I know." And Blaise's voice held a note of amused wonder in it for a moment, before fading, "I know. But I'm leaving tomorrow, so she'll only have a chance to get a little worked up."

Draco rose up, "maybe you should have told her yesterday, then. Maybe they could have worked something out and you'd have been able to stay here. Merlin, we could think of something. I'm not against begging Dumbledore for help."

Blaise blinked at him, "that's... quite touching, actually." And Blaise meant it as much as Draco meant his willingness to prostrate himself in front of the headmaster and beg for help. "But, you know I have to go. You know... they're my parents, and... you know, right Draco?"

Draco deflated, and nodded slowly.

"Thank you. For being my friend, it's been an honor."

Draco wanted to make a crack about the melodramatics, but couldn't seem to muster up the energy.

"She'll cry, and she won't understand," Draco's voice halted Blaise's hand on the door handle.

Blaise sighed and opened the door.

"I know."

End Chapter