Chapter 6
Where There is Darkness, Let There Be Light
Author: DemonicCharity
Title: Lost Boys
Rating: R for language.
Warnings: SLASH!! I REPEAT SLASH!! No lemons (or limes) as of yet, but *shrug* who knows for the future. BEWARE!
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
A/N: Oh dear, my not updating is sure becoming a hassle isn't it? I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I tried to make this one a little longer and bit sappier too. This starts a new chapter in the boys' lives! Review! I love you!
Harry walked quietly across the rooftop, as he had done so many times in the past, in his world, where he would come up here to sit and stare at the moon and look at the lake when his heart was troubled by thoughts of losing his friends and dying before he had the chance to live. It had always pained him to sometimes find the Malfoy boy up here, doing the same thing he had done, for the same reasons, he now knew. And now, Harry was slowly approaching the figure outlined by the moon, his eyes glued to the only person that seemed to matter anymore, the only person who might give a damn if he died now.
Draco stared up at the moon, his mind in chaos, unable to be sorted out no matter how long he sat there, the December winds bitting his cheeks and nose, leaving him looking more venerable then he would dare let anyone else see. For he was Draco Malfoy, wasn't he? He had not only established a reputation at home for being a dick, but it seemed that he had fucked up here as well. No friends, no family, nothing. Everything he had wished for at home when he had been forced to play spy at Voldemort's right hand. How was he supposed to know that having fake friends were better then having no friends at all? Atleast he could pretend that Goyle and Crabbe had given a damn about him when they were in school.
Harry silently lit a fag and sat down next to him, taking a drag and handing it to him without a word. Draco gratefully took it, taking his own deep drag, then watching as the smoke mixed with the cold night air as he let his breath back out. "You weren't by Hagrid's hut," he said softly, taking another quick drag, handing the fag back to the raven haired boy sitting next to him. "So I came up here to think."
"I figured as much," Harry said quietly, staring up at the stars. "Things took longer tonight then I had planned."
* * * * *
"You're late, boy," James hissed, his eyes narrowed as Harry climbed the hill to the large Riddle house that stood on it's peak. "I told you not to-"
"Don't fuck with me, James," Harry bit out. "I only deal with your ass because Voldemort commands it." Harry didn't really know how else to act around the man. It was obvious that Draco didn't have any more respect for his father in sixth year after the man was arrested at the Ministry the night Sirius was killed, just as it was obvious that he was stronger then the other Death Eater, and higher in Voldemort's hierarchy.
"I will not tollerate your disrespect any longer!" He screamed, grabbing Harry by his robes. Affirmative, he had been right on. Apparently he had been disrespectful before tonight, and James didn't like it one bit.
Silently, Harry prayed to his dead father that he would be forgiven for what he did tonight. He prayed that he would be forgiven for consorting with the sick bastard who had killed his parents at home, for killing Sirius, not to mention making his life a living hell all these years.
"I suggest you remove your hands," Harry hissed, "if you expect me to arrive before Our Lord becomes angry and punishes *you* for making his Chosen late."
"You little bastard," James glared down at his mirror image.
"That's no way to talk to your son, Potter," Harry heard a voice reprimand his father from up ahead. The voice was so familiar, yet distant. Harry couldn't figure out who it was, as shadows clouded the man in mystery. James grumbled under his breath then shoved Harry away roughly, continuing up the hill in silence, stopping to glare at the figure clothed in the darkness, then continued without saying another word. "Come on, kiddo. We better get you inside before the Dark Lord makes his entrance."
Harry gulped, then nodded, continuing up the hill, stopping to look momentarily into strange and haunted blue eyes. "Don't worry, Harry," the man said softly, ruffling his hair. "All this will hopefully be over soon. Don't give into him, kiddo. Hogwarts needs you."
So this man knew Harry was a spy? It wasn't Snape, he knew that for sure, but he couldn't figure out who the strange man was. Even his actions were familiar. . . but who? Harry didn't have much more time to think about it, as the shadowed figure gave him a soft shove in the direction of the tall, but old house.
* * *
"Ah," Voldemort addressed his kneeling Death Eaters with a cruel smile. "I am glad we could convene tonight." His eyes wandered to the only standing figure in the room, who stood leaning against the back wall like always. "Harry," he smiled softly, gesturing for the boy to come forward. "You are better, child?"
"I'm no child," he said indignantly, sticking his nose in the air as he approached the front of the room, glaring down at the kneeling figure of his father. "But yes," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm fine now."
"I am glad to hear it, little one," Voldemort said. "I would have preferred to speak to you alone about this, my chosen, but you were unavoidably detained when I summoned you last."
*Or I just decided not to come. . .* "What is it that you wish of me, My Lord?" He asked, bowing his head slightly.
"I want you to take up your education here on a full time basis," he said, sitting down on a black throne, spreading his robes around him to give him a god-like appearance. Harry was careful to keep from shuddering, and built his mental blocks as to keep Voldemort from reading his memories and emotions.
Harry looked up at him, letting a stunned expression cross his face. "My Lord, I am honored! To be taught by the very best there is to learn from, I dared not dream of it until now! Of course I would accept your offer."
"Yes," he smiled evilly. "I knew you would love the opportunity to gain such knowledge from one as powerful as myself."
Harry waited a moment while he gloated, then continued. "But. . . My Lord, who would be your spy among the students at Hogwarts? Severus is indeed loyal, but he cannot penetrate the world of the children."
"I have another who is my spy," he said softly, looking at Harry with wary red eyes. "He is buried deep within the world of my enemies."
Harry kneeled, bowing his head. "If you speak of Ron Weasley, My Lord, I beg you to allow me to stay and keep an eye on him. He is hardly trustworthy," he said with a sneer.
Voldemort raised a thin eyebrow. "You have great skills indeed to pick him out of the crowd, my chosen. But why would you make such an accusation against one who has already proven himself loyal to his Master?"
"Weasley is blatantly obvious, My Lord, and isn't known for his loyalty to others. Look what he did to Malfoy for example, abandoning him in his time of greatest need. You have asked for my guidance in the past, and if it my place to do so, I will aid you once again. I want to protect you, My Lord. I am not saying to distrust Weasley entirely, I am just asking that you allow me time to watch him from the shadows."
"Hm. . ." The man sitting on the throne thought, weighing his plans with Harry's opinion. "If I remember correctly, it was Malfoy who put a rift between himself and Weasley last year, isn't that what you told me?"
Harry bowed his head once more, looking like he was hiding his smirk, but making sure that Voldemort saw it. "Yes, My Lord, but Malfoy and I have come to a recent understanding." Gasps were heard throughout the room, but Voldemort silenced them with a low hiss.
"Indeed? You are becoming closer to the Boy-Who-Lived?" He asked, leaning forward on his throne. "This is quite an advantage, Harry. Would you be able to sway him to our side?"
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "If My Lord commands it, I will use everything I have learned to bring him to you willingly," he said carefully. "It is true that he is a great asset to you, My Lord, but he still may hold allegiance to side of light. Though the possibility of him joining with Dumbledore is small, the man helped him when he was a child. I will need time to sever the connection he has with that old fool and Hogwarts. But when it is severed, and his hate is mature, he *will* join us."
"Good," he smiled. "Then I will allow you to take your leave and finish your plans to bring Malfoy to my side. I am very proud of you, my chosen. You exceed my wildest dreams for an heir!"
Harry stood and gave him a low bow before exiting the room, ignoring the glare of loathing he received from his father, and as he reached the door, he heard the very faint wisper, "Good goin' kid, I'm proud of ya too." Harry stopped for a moment, trying to place the voice, but found it near impossible. . . It was like an old memory. . . one that he had tucked away years ago, and was now resurfacing. Continuing on, he left Voldemort to discuss what was happing with the Ministry and what a fool Fudge was.
* * * *
"What happened?" Draco asked quietly, staring at him with glowing blue eyes.
"I stalled him," Harry said quietly, taking a quick drag. "Like I'm supposed to do. Like I was born to do."
"You accept fate too easily," Draco said, looking back up at the stars, sending the familiar prayer of peace up to the heavens.
"You always came up here to think in the past," Harry said, taking a deep drag of the cigaret, not noticing Draco's startled expression. "I always wondered what you thought about, but maybe I have an idea now. . . Did you think about dying, Draco? Did you wish you could tell someone how bad your father hurt you inside? Did you wish that you didn't have to live a lie?" Harry's voice lowered to a choked whisper. "Or did you wish you could find someone to hold you after your father had shredded all your hope of ever being loved?"
"Oh, Harry," Draco whispered, his heart aching for the boy sitting next to him, his heart aching from the past that wasn't so far away now. He had thought that by being here he wouldn't have to deal with an egotistical and narrow minded father, but now he saw his pain in Harry. And oh, how it still hurt.
"To look at your child with such hate and contempt . . ." he murmured, flicking the fag down the arching roof, a tear sliding down his cheek. "I could never look at my child with such disregard."
"That's just how he is," Draco said quietly. "He'll never love you. . . just like my father never loved me."
Harry turned to look at him. "That's not true," he argued. "You're father did love you, just not in the way you needed him to," he smiled softly. "I know there is a special place in my father's heart for me, no matter how small. He may hate me for being the Chosen, for being above him in rank, and for being loved by an evil monster, but I know he cares. In his own sick and twisted way, he *does* care. Your father cared for you, Draco. He loved you in the way he thought best. You just needed him to love you in some other way."
Draco felt tears freely falling down his cheeks, and wondered why they were there. He felt numb inside, the words Harry said causing the pain he never knew was there to disappear. His father had loved him, even if it was just a little bit. His father had been proud of him, even if he never showed it. The tears didn't stop, and Draco felt no desire to stop them. How did this boy sitting next to him understand him so much? Was it possible the two were really the same? He had thought . . .until yesterday that there was no possibility for him to relate to the strange boy that was so much like himself, yet so different.
Then he remembered. . .
* * *
Draco sat silently in the middle of the shrieking shack, his arms encircling his knees, tears falling down his dirty cheeks as the dust around him collected on his already dirty clothes. His heart felt almost torn in two. He felt betrayed in the worst way imaginable. How could he have been so blind to the truth? He should have known that his father wasn't going to let him live if he didn't join the Dark Lord. He should have been ready for the rejection, the horrible accusations. He had thought that he was free from his father's disapproving looks, his stinging comments, but tonight proved different. Draco knew that he was still hopelessly looking for his father's love and approval. He also knew that he would never receive it, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
"Draco?" The blonde boy looked up to see his best friend standing in the doorway of the empty room he had been crying in. His best friend who could never see Draco in the light that he saw him in. Harry was so brave. Harry was strong and loyal, everything he wanted to be. Harry was his world now, the only person who truly cared if he died. "Draco," Harry called again, entering the room cautiously. "Draco, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Potter," he whispered, wiping at his cheeks to further the dirty smears. "I just had a moment of weakness. "It won't happen again."
"It's our weaknesses that define who we are, Draco," Harry said quietly as he crossed the room to stand by the shattered looking young man. "The choices we make also tell us more about ourselves. You made a choice, Draco; the harder of some of the ones you had. And in that way, I guess it's not the choice that defines anything, but how you feel about it." Harry murmured, sitting down next to the blonde.
"I don't need your wise bull shit, right now, Potter," Draco snarled, shifting to turn his back on the ebony haired boy.
"No," Harry agreed. "You don't need my bull shit, Drake," he said softly, scooting closer to the other young man. "You need someone to hold you and tell you that everything will be alright. . ." He wrapped his arms around Draco, and waited until the blonde turned in his grasp and buried his head in Harry's robes, shaking from tears that had been held for far too long a time. "It will be alright, Drake," Harry assured him. "I promise that one day you will have a happy ending. That Voldemort will become just a bad dream at night. The Death Eaters will be a memory and you'll find the happiness we all strive for in life. I promise, Draco. I promise."
"He tried to kill me, Harry!" Draco sobbed, clutching onto the other man for life. "My father. . .he tried to kill me! He said that he had always loved me. . .He lied to me, Harry! He lied. . ." he finished brokenly.
"No, Dragon," Harry murmured into soft blonde hair. "He didn't lie. You're father loves you. He loved you in the way he thought best. You just needed him to love you in another way." Harry tilted Draco's head up, looking into beautiful blue eyes. "Just like you need me to love you in another way . . ."
"Harry. . ." Draco almost gasped, his eyes wide as he stared into the emerald pools of his friend's eyes. How had he known him so well?
Harry pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped Draco's face clean of the dirt and tears, smiling as he watched the young man's thoughts drift through his eyes, emotions playing on his features. "I can't say that I haven't wanted this," Harry whispered, running his thumb over Draco's soft lips. "I've never wanted another person, Draco, but now. . . I desire you."
Draco's heart thudded in his chest. Harry was saying that. . .Harry was saying that he wanted the same thing that Draco did. He wanted to be more than just friends with the blonde boy. But why? Draco wasn't aware that he spoke his last thought out loud.
"You believe yourself incapable of being loved," Harry said sadly. "I'm going to show you different. How could I not want this, Draco? We've become so close. . .you've shared so much of your soul with me that it feels like it's my soul too. Draco, I feel that pain you feel. . ." Harry said softly, pushing a strand of dirty blonde hair away from Draco's face. "I feel the need inside you, just as I feel my own. I need you, Dragon."
Draco felt like he was going to melt into a puddle right there in front of him. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever cared like Harry had cared. He let his hands drift over Harry's face, making sure that this wasn't a dream, couldn't possibly be another one of his wishes expressed when he was deep asleep. "And I need you," Draco whispered hoarsely.
Harry let himself drift closer, his eyes fluttering shut at the same time Draco's did, and he softly brushed his lips across Draco's. He moved slowly and purposely, bracing Draco against him so that he could deepen the kiss. Harry smiled ever so much as Draco gasped when he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, and took the opportunity to invade the blonde boy's mouth.
Draco let out a small whimper as Harry ran his tongue across Draco's own, his hands shaking as he wound them around Harry's neck, twining his fingers into the soft ebony hair. It seemed as if the world didn't matter anymore. His father, Voldemort, the great fight between good and evil, didn't matter anymore. It was so small compared to this great thing being exchanged between himself and the only other person that mattered anymore. Harry.
* * * * *
"Harry?" Draco whispered, but when he looked to see the young man, he saw empty space. Harry must have left when he had traveled down memory lane, something he was so cautious never to do. It *was* his Harry, how could he have thought otherwise? His heart sang and he found himself filled with such joy he had trouble standing. Harry had found him, after all this time, he had found Draco. It filled him with such hope. Perhaps now he could make a difference in the world. With Harry he felt he could have done anything. It was miraculous.
But did the young man with emerald eyes know that Draco remembered? Did he know that Draco know knew him for the wondrous creature that Harry was? Was this the game Harry had spoken of? If it was, he couldn't stand to play it. He didn't want to dance around what he and Harry had in mockery. He would tell the Boy-Who-Lived, and would concentrate on spending every moment he could to help the boy.
This was where the future began. This was where everything began.
A/n: Alright. . . well? Good, bad? Anything? I need to know sorta where to go from here. Should I stall Draco telling Harry that he knows? Should Draco join Harry in the *noble* cause of spying on the Dark Lord? What of Ron and Hermie? Should Draco be resorted in to Slytherin? Who else should know about Harry and Draco (where they come from, they love eachother, etc. . . ) Luv you guys!!!!!!!!!!
Where There is Darkness, Let There Be Light
Author: DemonicCharity
Title: Lost Boys
Rating: R for language.
Warnings: SLASH!! I REPEAT SLASH!! No lemons (or limes) as of yet, but *shrug* who knows for the future. BEWARE!
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be rich, beautiful and would control all the children of the world because they love the characters so much. I'm just borrowing for the moment.
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
A/N: Oh dear, my not updating is sure becoming a hassle isn't it? I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I tried to make this one a little longer and bit sappier too. This starts a new chapter in the boys' lives! Review! I love you!
Harry walked quietly across the rooftop, as he had done so many times in the past, in his world, where he would come up here to sit and stare at the moon and look at the lake when his heart was troubled by thoughts of losing his friends and dying before he had the chance to live. It had always pained him to sometimes find the Malfoy boy up here, doing the same thing he had done, for the same reasons, he now knew. And now, Harry was slowly approaching the figure outlined by the moon, his eyes glued to the only person that seemed to matter anymore, the only person who might give a damn if he died now.
Draco stared up at the moon, his mind in chaos, unable to be sorted out no matter how long he sat there, the December winds bitting his cheeks and nose, leaving him looking more venerable then he would dare let anyone else see. For he was Draco Malfoy, wasn't he? He had not only established a reputation at home for being a dick, but it seemed that he had fucked up here as well. No friends, no family, nothing. Everything he had wished for at home when he had been forced to play spy at Voldemort's right hand. How was he supposed to know that having fake friends were better then having no friends at all? Atleast he could pretend that Goyle and Crabbe had given a damn about him when they were in school.
Harry silently lit a fag and sat down next to him, taking a drag and handing it to him without a word. Draco gratefully took it, taking his own deep drag, then watching as the smoke mixed with the cold night air as he let his breath back out. "You weren't by Hagrid's hut," he said softly, taking another quick drag, handing the fag back to the raven haired boy sitting next to him. "So I came up here to think."
"I figured as much," Harry said quietly, staring up at the stars. "Things took longer tonight then I had planned."
* * * * *
"You're late, boy," James hissed, his eyes narrowed as Harry climbed the hill to the large Riddle house that stood on it's peak. "I told you not to-"
"Don't fuck with me, James," Harry bit out. "I only deal with your ass because Voldemort commands it." Harry didn't really know how else to act around the man. It was obvious that Draco didn't have any more respect for his father in sixth year after the man was arrested at the Ministry the night Sirius was killed, just as it was obvious that he was stronger then the other Death Eater, and higher in Voldemort's hierarchy.
"I will not tollerate your disrespect any longer!" He screamed, grabbing Harry by his robes. Affirmative, he had been right on. Apparently he had been disrespectful before tonight, and James didn't like it one bit.
Silently, Harry prayed to his dead father that he would be forgiven for what he did tonight. He prayed that he would be forgiven for consorting with the sick bastard who had killed his parents at home, for killing Sirius, not to mention making his life a living hell all these years.
"I suggest you remove your hands," Harry hissed, "if you expect me to arrive before Our Lord becomes angry and punishes *you* for making his Chosen late."
"You little bastard," James glared down at his mirror image.
"That's no way to talk to your son, Potter," Harry heard a voice reprimand his father from up ahead. The voice was so familiar, yet distant. Harry couldn't figure out who it was, as shadows clouded the man in mystery. James grumbled under his breath then shoved Harry away roughly, continuing up the hill in silence, stopping to glare at the figure clothed in the darkness, then continued without saying another word. "Come on, kiddo. We better get you inside before the Dark Lord makes his entrance."
Harry gulped, then nodded, continuing up the hill, stopping to look momentarily into strange and haunted blue eyes. "Don't worry, Harry," the man said softly, ruffling his hair. "All this will hopefully be over soon. Don't give into him, kiddo. Hogwarts needs you."
So this man knew Harry was a spy? It wasn't Snape, he knew that for sure, but he couldn't figure out who the strange man was. Even his actions were familiar. . . but who? Harry didn't have much more time to think about it, as the shadowed figure gave him a soft shove in the direction of the tall, but old house.
* * *
"Ah," Voldemort addressed his kneeling Death Eaters with a cruel smile. "I am glad we could convene tonight." His eyes wandered to the only standing figure in the room, who stood leaning against the back wall like always. "Harry," he smiled softly, gesturing for the boy to come forward. "You are better, child?"
"I'm no child," he said indignantly, sticking his nose in the air as he approached the front of the room, glaring down at the kneeling figure of his father. "But yes," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm fine now."
"I am glad to hear it, little one," Voldemort said. "I would have preferred to speak to you alone about this, my chosen, but you were unavoidably detained when I summoned you last."
*Or I just decided not to come. . .* "What is it that you wish of me, My Lord?" He asked, bowing his head slightly.
"I want you to take up your education here on a full time basis," he said, sitting down on a black throne, spreading his robes around him to give him a god-like appearance. Harry was careful to keep from shuddering, and built his mental blocks as to keep Voldemort from reading his memories and emotions.
Harry looked up at him, letting a stunned expression cross his face. "My Lord, I am honored! To be taught by the very best there is to learn from, I dared not dream of it until now! Of course I would accept your offer."
"Yes," he smiled evilly. "I knew you would love the opportunity to gain such knowledge from one as powerful as myself."
Harry waited a moment while he gloated, then continued. "But. . . My Lord, who would be your spy among the students at Hogwarts? Severus is indeed loyal, but he cannot penetrate the world of the children."
"I have another who is my spy," he said softly, looking at Harry with wary red eyes. "He is buried deep within the world of my enemies."
Harry kneeled, bowing his head. "If you speak of Ron Weasley, My Lord, I beg you to allow me to stay and keep an eye on him. He is hardly trustworthy," he said with a sneer.
Voldemort raised a thin eyebrow. "You have great skills indeed to pick him out of the crowd, my chosen. But why would you make such an accusation against one who has already proven himself loyal to his Master?"
"Weasley is blatantly obvious, My Lord, and isn't known for his loyalty to others. Look what he did to Malfoy for example, abandoning him in his time of greatest need. You have asked for my guidance in the past, and if it my place to do so, I will aid you once again. I want to protect you, My Lord. I am not saying to distrust Weasley entirely, I am just asking that you allow me time to watch him from the shadows."
"Hm. . ." The man sitting on the throne thought, weighing his plans with Harry's opinion. "If I remember correctly, it was Malfoy who put a rift between himself and Weasley last year, isn't that what you told me?"
Harry bowed his head once more, looking like he was hiding his smirk, but making sure that Voldemort saw it. "Yes, My Lord, but Malfoy and I have come to a recent understanding." Gasps were heard throughout the room, but Voldemort silenced them with a low hiss.
"Indeed? You are becoming closer to the Boy-Who-Lived?" He asked, leaning forward on his throne. "This is quite an advantage, Harry. Would you be able to sway him to our side?"
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "If My Lord commands it, I will use everything I have learned to bring him to you willingly," he said carefully. "It is true that he is a great asset to you, My Lord, but he still may hold allegiance to side of light. Though the possibility of him joining with Dumbledore is small, the man helped him when he was a child. I will need time to sever the connection he has with that old fool and Hogwarts. But when it is severed, and his hate is mature, he *will* join us."
"Good," he smiled. "Then I will allow you to take your leave and finish your plans to bring Malfoy to my side. I am very proud of you, my chosen. You exceed my wildest dreams for an heir!"
Harry stood and gave him a low bow before exiting the room, ignoring the glare of loathing he received from his father, and as he reached the door, he heard the very faint wisper, "Good goin' kid, I'm proud of ya too." Harry stopped for a moment, trying to place the voice, but found it near impossible. . . It was like an old memory. . . one that he had tucked away years ago, and was now resurfacing. Continuing on, he left Voldemort to discuss what was happing with the Ministry and what a fool Fudge was.
* * * *
"What happened?" Draco asked quietly, staring at him with glowing blue eyes.
"I stalled him," Harry said quietly, taking a quick drag. "Like I'm supposed to do. Like I was born to do."
"You accept fate too easily," Draco said, looking back up at the stars, sending the familiar prayer of peace up to the heavens.
"You always came up here to think in the past," Harry said, taking a deep drag of the cigaret, not noticing Draco's startled expression. "I always wondered what you thought about, but maybe I have an idea now. . . Did you think about dying, Draco? Did you wish you could tell someone how bad your father hurt you inside? Did you wish that you didn't have to live a lie?" Harry's voice lowered to a choked whisper. "Or did you wish you could find someone to hold you after your father had shredded all your hope of ever being loved?"
"Oh, Harry," Draco whispered, his heart aching for the boy sitting next to him, his heart aching from the past that wasn't so far away now. He had thought that by being here he wouldn't have to deal with an egotistical and narrow minded father, but now he saw his pain in Harry. And oh, how it still hurt.
"To look at your child with such hate and contempt . . ." he murmured, flicking the fag down the arching roof, a tear sliding down his cheek. "I could never look at my child with such disregard."
"That's just how he is," Draco said quietly. "He'll never love you. . . just like my father never loved me."
Harry turned to look at him. "That's not true," he argued. "You're father did love you, just not in the way you needed him to," he smiled softly. "I know there is a special place in my father's heart for me, no matter how small. He may hate me for being the Chosen, for being above him in rank, and for being loved by an evil monster, but I know he cares. In his own sick and twisted way, he *does* care. Your father cared for you, Draco. He loved you in the way he thought best. You just needed him to love you in some other way."
Draco felt tears freely falling down his cheeks, and wondered why they were there. He felt numb inside, the words Harry said causing the pain he never knew was there to disappear. His father had loved him, even if it was just a little bit. His father had been proud of him, even if he never showed it. The tears didn't stop, and Draco felt no desire to stop them. How did this boy sitting next to him understand him so much? Was it possible the two were really the same? He had thought . . .until yesterday that there was no possibility for him to relate to the strange boy that was so much like himself, yet so different.
Then he remembered. . .
* * *
Draco sat silently in the middle of the shrieking shack, his arms encircling his knees, tears falling down his dirty cheeks as the dust around him collected on his already dirty clothes. His heart felt almost torn in two. He felt betrayed in the worst way imaginable. How could he have been so blind to the truth? He should have known that his father wasn't going to let him live if he didn't join the Dark Lord. He should have been ready for the rejection, the horrible accusations. He had thought that he was free from his father's disapproving looks, his stinging comments, but tonight proved different. Draco knew that he was still hopelessly looking for his father's love and approval. He also knew that he would never receive it, but that didn't make it hurt any less.
"Draco?" The blonde boy looked up to see his best friend standing in the doorway of the empty room he had been crying in. His best friend who could never see Draco in the light that he saw him in. Harry was so brave. Harry was strong and loyal, everything he wanted to be. Harry was his world now, the only person who truly cared if he died. "Draco," Harry called again, entering the room cautiously. "Draco, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Potter," he whispered, wiping at his cheeks to further the dirty smears. "I just had a moment of weakness. "It won't happen again."
"It's our weaknesses that define who we are, Draco," Harry said quietly as he crossed the room to stand by the shattered looking young man. "The choices we make also tell us more about ourselves. You made a choice, Draco; the harder of some of the ones you had. And in that way, I guess it's not the choice that defines anything, but how you feel about it." Harry murmured, sitting down next to the blonde.
"I don't need your wise bull shit, right now, Potter," Draco snarled, shifting to turn his back on the ebony haired boy.
"No," Harry agreed. "You don't need my bull shit, Drake," he said softly, scooting closer to the other young man. "You need someone to hold you and tell you that everything will be alright. . ." He wrapped his arms around Draco, and waited until the blonde turned in his grasp and buried his head in Harry's robes, shaking from tears that had been held for far too long a time. "It will be alright, Drake," Harry assured him. "I promise that one day you will have a happy ending. That Voldemort will become just a bad dream at night. The Death Eaters will be a memory and you'll find the happiness we all strive for in life. I promise, Draco. I promise."
"He tried to kill me, Harry!" Draco sobbed, clutching onto the other man for life. "My father. . .he tried to kill me! He said that he had always loved me. . .He lied to me, Harry! He lied. . ." he finished brokenly.
"No, Dragon," Harry murmured into soft blonde hair. "He didn't lie. You're father loves you. He loved you in the way he thought best. You just needed him to love you in another way." Harry tilted Draco's head up, looking into beautiful blue eyes. "Just like you need me to love you in another way . . ."
"Harry. . ." Draco almost gasped, his eyes wide as he stared into the emerald pools of his friend's eyes. How had he known him so well?
Harry pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped Draco's face clean of the dirt and tears, smiling as he watched the young man's thoughts drift through his eyes, emotions playing on his features. "I can't say that I haven't wanted this," Harry whispered, running his thumb over Draco's soft lips. "I've never wanted another person, Draco, but now. . . I desire you."
Draco's heart thudded in his chest. Harry was saying that. . .Harry was saying that he wanted the same thing that Draco did. He wanted to be more than just friends with the blonde boy. But why? Draco wasn't aware that he spoke his last thought out loud.
"You believe yourself incapable of being loved," Harry said sadly. "I'm going to show you different. How could I not want this, Draco? We've become so close. . .you've shared so much of your soul with me that it feels like it's my soul too. Draco, I feel that pain you feel. . ." Harry said softly, pushing a strand of dirty blonde hair away from Draco's face. "I feel the need inside you, just as I feel my own. I need you, Dragon."
Draco felt like he was going to melt into a puddle right there in front of him. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever cared like Harry had cared. He let his hands drift over Harry's face, making sure that this wasn't a dream, couldn't possibly be another one of his wishes expressed when he was deep asleep. "And I need you," Draco whispered hoarsely.
Harry let himself drift closer, his eyes fluttering shut at the same time Draco's did, and he softly brushed his lips across Draco's. He moved slowly and purposely, bracing Draco against him so that he could deepen the kiss. Harry smiled ever so much as Draco gasped when he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, and took the opportunity to invade the blonde boy's mouth.
Draco let out a small whimper as Harry ran his tongue across Draco's own, his hands shaking as he wound them around Harry's neck, twining his fingers into the soft ebony hair. It seemed as if the world didn't matter anymore. His father, Voldemort, the great fight between good and evil, didn't matter anymore. It was so small compared to this great thing being exchanged between himself and the only other person that mattered anymore. Harry.
* * * * *
"Harry?" Draco whispered, but when he looked to see the young man, he saw empty space. Harry must have left when he had traveled down memory lane, something he was so cautious never to do. It *was* his Harry, how could he have thought otherwise? His heart sang and he found himself filled with such joy he had trouble standing. Harry had found him, after all this time, he had found Draco. It filled him with such hope. Perhaps now he could make a difference in the world. With Harry he felt he could have done anything. It was miraculous.
But did the young man with emerald eyes know that Draco remembered? Did he know that Draco know knew him for the wondrous creature that Harry was? Was this the game Harry had spoken of? If it was, he couldn't stand to play it. He didn't want to dance around what he and Harry had in mockery. He would tell the Boy-Who-Lived, and would concentrate on spending every moment he could to help the boy.
This was where the future began. This was where everything began.
A/n: Alright. . . well? Good, bad? Anything? I need to know sorta where to go from here. Should I stall Draco telling Harry that he knows? Should Draco join Harry in the *noble* cause of spying on the Dark Lord? What of Ron and Hermie? Should Draco be resorted in to Slytherin? Who else should know about Harry and Draco (where they come from, they love eachother, etc. . . ) Luv you guys!!!!!!!!!!