A/n– Here's the sequel to Acrophobia! You don't need to read that one to understand this one, but it would help. Slash is present, this is your warning. Why there needs to be a warning, I don't know, but that was it. Enjoy.
Isolophobia- Fear of solitude, being alone.
It was the first game of the year: Slytherin vs. Gryffindor.
They were already four hours into the game. Their peers had cheered themselves hoarse; the commentator (Justin Finch-Fletchley) was only talking when someone scored, got hit with something (or someone), or fell off of their broom; and people were talking lazily in the stands.
The game, apparently, was no longer their main concern. Pansy Parkinson was painting her nails a horrid hot pink, Lavendar and Parvati were braiding Padma's hair, Seamus was in a rock-paper-scissors contest with Blaise Zabini from Slytherin, Hermione was reading and Neville was asleep and snoring on her shoulder.
High above the other students Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were desperately searching for the golden snitch so that they could finish the game.
Draco saw the glitter of gold first and pulled his broom into a steep dive. No sooner had he done that did Harry imitate him. They were closing in on the snitch. Draco knew it. Harry knew it.
Draco would get the snitch this time.
He could imagine it now: the Slytherin's cheering, the looks of hatred on the Gryffindor's faces, a look of approval on his godfather's face, and his father wouldn't...
His father wouldn't be there.
The only reason he was flying was for his father. The man wasn't even here to see him win.
Draco stopped as his fingers brushed the fine wings of the snitch. In the split-second he second-guessed himself, Harry had caught the snitch and the other three houses were now in an uproar. He sat there in a stupor and stared down at his hands. His teammates were swearing at him, but he paid no attention.
Draco flew to the ground and walked off the pitch without a word to anyone. He had a nice walk, with no interruptions, until he reached the stairs to the dungeons.
"Malfoy!"
A shout with no venom in a familiar voice. A request to stop walking. He stopped and kept his back to the other person. "Yes?" he asked once they had caught up.
"You had it, we both knew it... Why didn't you catch the snitch?"
He turned around and looked into the green eyes. Something new was there. Concern? Not likely. Hate? No, that wouldn't be anything new. Confusion? Probably.
"What if I never wanted to catch the snitch Potter?" he should be asking himself that question.
There was no venom in his voice either. This was certainly new. Maybe Severus would start passing out candy? Not likely... unless it was filled with acid. That could be fun...
Draco walked into the dungeons without another word.
A shiny new broom. Sunshine. A rainbow. Cold grey eyes. A dissatisfied scowl. Soaring up, up, up. A small bear safe against him. Cold hands. Bear gone. Loud yells. Diving down, down, down. Safe again in his arms. Falling again. Ground hurts. Tears ongrass. Yells above him. A slap. Footsteps. Alone. A gentle nudge. White. Warm. Pain as he stands. Stairs of stone. Bear hidden. Time for sleep. White, warm in his arms.
Blood and fur the next morning.
Draco woke soaked in sweat. Dreams–no, nightmares–from his childhood kept him from decent sleep. He put on a robe and slippers and silently made his way to the Astronomy Tower. He sat on "his" windowsill in a daze until morning came.
A fortnight later he opened the door to the Astronomy Tower–only to find someone else on his windowsill. They locked eyes but exchanged no words. Draco moved towards the ledge and the other boy drew his legs to his chest to leave him room. An offering of peace. Or a truce at the very least.
He rested his back against the other frame of the window. They sat in a comfortable silence the rest of the night. And the two after that. On the next night Draco looked over at him.
"Why are you here?"
An odd look.
"I couldn't sleep... and you?"
"I couldn't either,"
He hesitated, "Why not?"
Draco looked at him carefully. "Bad memories," he said simply. "What about you Potter?"
A sigh. "Nightmares,"
No more words were exchanged that night. Harry didn't show up for the next one.
A/n– If the middle part is confusing, please go to my profile and read the prequel Acrophobia. The middle part was a nightmare, in case you couldn't tell.
Please Review!
Note: Edited on 12/16/04 for grammar, spelling and punctuation. A few things may be different from the original version, but nothing drastic.
:-:silver-sunn101:-:
