Title: Classic Stigma
Author: Nepenthe
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Drama
Format: Finished multipart
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some swearing.
Disclaimer: I own Harry's new scars and Luna's advice. Nothing more.
"You know who your friends are if they still love you when you are no longer perfect." - Luna Lovegood
"Hey."
Harry turned around to greet Draco as he walked towards his table, a library book open on the surface. After classes, Harry decided he needed some privacy after the exhausting trial of being subject to the rumor mill. One could only take so much from all the staring and loud whispers.
"Hi," Harry said, turning back to his book as Draco took a seat beside him. Harry could feel his boyfriend's sharp gaze on him and it made his cheeks begin to burn. The conversation with Hermione last night drifted up, making him shift uncomfortably. He didn't know if he could talk to Draco over something so serious; he was hoping Hermione might do the deed for him. He was half-tempted to ask her, to explain it to Draco...but Draco had disappeared for most of that day and thus, Harry forgot. He became more concerned with ignoring everyone else.
"What are you reading?" Draco asked.
"Nothing school-related," Harry answered meekly, rubbing his blushed cheeks before getting up abruptly. He grabbed the book and moved quickly to the bookcase to put it back and get something else. He didn't notice Draco getting up and following him closely. When Harry had picked out a thicker novel and turned around, he was surprised to find Draco right there, his height just an inch away from being eye-level. Draco put a hand on his chest and pushed him against the bookcase, right into the corner of the lined walls. He stepped closer till their bodies were flush against each other and Harry's breath hitched nervously, clutching the thick bind of his new book.
"Um, hi," Harry hiccupped anxiously. "Wh...What are you doing?"
Draco smirked, "Nothing school-related." Then he leaned in, his mouth open and hot on Harry's trembling lips. The shock was immediate, the panic was swelling and Harry lost his sweaty grip on the book. It landed heavily on his foot and he hissed - Draco invaded with his tongue. Harry kept his eyes open wide and he gripped the books behind him to keep himself from bolting. He also recognized the kiss as the slow one he experienced in Fred and George's basement; a slow exploration, something that felt second nature rather then something new. Harry realized Draco was rather good at that; making something feel natural and graceful instead of disgusting and weird - something that Harry knew he was. Something broke inside of him then, something that made his lips move and his shy tongue greet Draco slowly. But just as he was beginning to relax to Draco's easy ministrations, he moved and Harry tensed, just because it felt so good. He wasn't drunk this time to know that he would probably always like Draco's mouth on his neck, kissing across his skin. It made his insides quiver, his toes curl, and his will crumble like sand.
"Uhh..." Harry whimpered. Draco chuckled.
"Shh," he breathed over his wet skin, making Harry shudder. The quiver raced through his limbs and a few more books fell the floor. Draco chuckled again. "We're in a library, Harry."
Harry was grateful that they were in the back of the said library, away from students and Madame Pince because he was sure this wasn't acceptable behavior. This was surely going to revive the gossiping as well if anyone saw them.
"Um," Harry gulped. "Yeah. Sorry."
Draco looked up at him then and Harry shyly met his gaze. Draco always had intense eyes, Harry thought. Sometimes cold, but like a deep lake frozen over...it was sometimes dark to look into. The lake had no bottom for Harry and the darkness that began in its depths held all of Draco's secrets. He was sometimes afraid to go that far, so far away from the light. He was afraid that Draco would never let him come up again.
Draco smirked slowly.
"What?" Harry breathed.
"I'll let you get back to your non school-related studies," he said, grinning, before he slipped away from Harry's body. There was an immediate temperature drop where Draco's body once was. He then slipped out of the room as easily as he came, leaving Harry breathing sharply and staring at his retreating back, confused.
And Draco had played like that for the rest of the week. He attacked Harry in empty corridors, pushing him against the wall with fleeting kisses before rushing to his next class. In public, there would be temporary touches that barely brushed his shoulders, his neck, his chest. Sometimes Harry would find Draco suddenly by his side, an arm around his waist as they walked down the hallway with Ron and Hermione before running away without another word. In one daring move, Draco had trapped Harry in the Potion's cupboard and kissed Harry breathless (imagine that!) before grabbing an herb and walking away. The Quidditch locker rooms were no longer safe for Harry, especially his private one (his special request to Dumbledore, in relation to his scars) because Draco had found a way in to leave Harry squirming on a bench. It was driving Harry mad. It was driving Hermione insane with giggles. And it was driving the rest of the students at Hogwarts to switch their gossiping paths and start taking bets on how long Harry could last. Of course, Harry didn't know about the very large wager.
"It's not funny," Harry growled late Friday night over his homework. Hermione smiled, if somewhat secretly, and Harry was convinced she was in this damn plot. Of all the people to turn on him. At least Ron was still on his side. Harry looked at him. Ron was quick to cover his own grin and Harry scowled. They were both in on it!
"Traitor," Harry growled underneath his breath, glaring at his empty parchment.
"I don't know what's gotten into Draco's..." and Ron trailed off, thinking, before grinning. "Well, I was going to say 'head' but frankly, I wouldn't know what's gotten into Draco's pants either—"
"Neither do I!" Harry screamed, his face flaming as Ron and Hermione laughed hysterically.
"Oh, Ron, that was horrible," Hermione scolded lightly, wiping at a teary eye.
"Both of you," Harry corrected, angrily scribbling on his paper.
"Oy, Harry!" Seamus called from across the room. He looked up. "Your boyfriend is here!" Followed quickly by catcalls and whistles. Harry groaned and sunk quickly in his seat. Deciding that wasn't enough, he ducked underneath the table.
"I'm not here!" Harry called back, holding onto Hermione's ankles as she tried to kick him.
"You're such a baby," she said, turning in her seat. "Let him in, Seamus."
"NO!" Harry cried, lifting up in a rush and smacking his head on the table. "Ow."
"Hello, Granger, Weasley," Draco's voice floated overhead and Harry held his breath as Draco's pretty shoes came into view. "Do either of you know where Harry is?"
"Sure," Ron piped up and Harry scrambled over to his feet. "He's right - OW!" Harry grinned around Ron's leg, clenching his teeth menacingly. Ron whimpered above.
"He's where?" Draco drawled predatorily and Harry whimpered too.
"Right...right..." Ron stuttered, sure his leg was going to be spurting blood any second.
"Under the table, Draco," Hermione supplied and wisely brought her legs up before Harry could hurt her too.
"Traitor!" Harry screamed again as he burst out from underneath the table, shooting Hermione a glare as he scrambled up. Draco was standing in front of him when he got to his feet, smirking. Harry eeped, backed up into a chair, and gulped.
"Care to go for a walk, Potter?" Draco drawled.
"Um, does this 'walk' have dark corners and is basically deserted of all human life?" Harry asked, shakily.
"Why, how did you know?" Draco grinned, his eyes glinting and making Harry feel very, very small.
"Just a guess," Harry whimpered. "But, ah, as you can see, I'm really busy...Um, Ron is upset that Hermione won't go out with him and I have to console him. Uh huh."
Ron's indignant 'What?' was overridden by Draco looking at Hermione, "I thought you were going out with Longbottom."
"I am," Hermione answered simply.
"You're a horrible liar, Potter," Draco said, looking at Harry again who was trying to creep out of his trapped space.
"Well, you see," Harry tried to explain unsteadily. "He, uh, didn't ask her because of Longbot - Neville - he's horribly in love with her and knows he doesn't stand a chance --"
"HEY!" Ron squawked again.
"Come on," Draco said, grabbing Harry's wrist and dragging him easily across the common room.
"No, no!" Harry wailed. "He really needs me, Draco! Like, I'm his life-support and - Somebody save me! Please, please save me! Anybody!" They were out of the portrait entryway and Draco continued to drag a resisting Harry down the stairs. After awhile, Harry stopped protesting and let Draco lead him down the deserted corridors like a dejected dog.
When Draco didn't say anything and Harry was beginning to get lost in the many corridors they were snaking through, he decided to pipe up, "Where exactly are we going?"
"Don't you remember?" he replied, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. "Dark corners. No one else around but you and me..."
Harry had adjusted well to the kissing. And for the random groping. He got used to those things. But he was NOT ready for anything that included removing clothes. Harry scrambled for an idea to delay his partner's current thoughts, biting his lip and worrying over it. Before he could think of anything, though, Draco had turned around, pulled Harry forward and covered his eyes.
"Um..." Harry started.
"Damn your glasses," Draco cursed and shoved them up on top of Harry's head before covering his eyes again and stepping behind him.
"What are you doing, Draco?" Harry asked uncertainly as Draco nudged him forward.
"I'm playing Quidditch. Why? What does it look like?" Draco remarked behind him.
"This must be a new tactic of yours," Harry nodded. "Are you going to hop on my broom and blind fold me so I can't see the snitch?"
"I can do worse things than hop on your broom, Harry," Draco grinned.
"Oh, gross," Harry groaned as he heard a door creak open and Draco continued to guide him forward slowly. "All three of you are just sick today. So, what did you bribe my best friends with to help you with this plot, huh, Draco?"
"Actually, it was their idea," Draco said simply.
"I'm going to kill them," Harry grumbled. "I'm going to kill them until they're dead..."
"Wonderful threat, Potter," Draco drawled with a snicker quickly following.
Harry sighed, "Are you ever going to let me see again?"
"No," Draco answered honestly and suddenly left his side, snatching Harry's glasses before the boy could put them on his face again. Harry blinked open his eyes, staring at the darkness around him. He swished out a hand in front of him and met nothing.
"Draco?" Harry called out, uncertainly. "Draco, you know I can't see without my glasses."
"I know," Draco replied, somewhere to the left. Harry turned his head towards his voice. "And it's also very dark in here."
"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, holding his hands out in front of him as he moved forward.
"I need you to trust me, Harry," Draco replied.
Harry laughed at the absurdity, "I trust you."
"Not like that," Draco said sharply, causing Harry to stop and his hands to fall slowly to his sides. "I need you to trust me to know that I'm not going to leave you in the darkness."
"Draco..." Harry breathed, his eyebrows curling upwards. He reached out again, his blurry fingers searching the night. "Draco, I don't know what you're talking about..."
"There's something you're not telling me," Draco said and Harry jerked his head quickly to the right. He had moved without Harry hearing him. "You're afraid I'll leave you because of it."
Unconsciously, Harry's hand drew to the back of his neck, his fingers ducking underneath his shirt to touch the beginnings of the large scars on his back.
"Why...Why do you say that?" Harry asked, running his tongue across his teeth in nervous habit. His nails dug into his scars and scratched at them; clawed at them, like he was hoping the skin would break, peel away, and start anew.
"I watch you," he replied and Harry felt, rather then saw, Draco's presence. He let go of his neck and lashed out; Draco caught him easily at the wrist and drew him deeper into the darkness, closer to the warmth. There was breath on his neck, causing shivers to race through his scarred flesh, and then a firm body pressing against his. For being a bit smaller then Harry, Draco had an overbearing presence that made the boy want to bend his knees and bury his face into his chest. It made Harry want to look up, rather then look down...but at the same time, it was perfect the way they were fitted against each other. Fingers curled in his black hair, a strong arm encased his waist and Harry knew, as if just realizing it, that Draco was there with him.
"Why won't you let me love you?" Draco whispered, lowering Harry's head onto his shoulder and helping him rest it there. Harry thought about protesting, about denying and telling Draco that he was just imagining things. But in this dark place, this place where Harry could no longer tell if he was really Harry Potter or not; in this place where the shadows engulfed them both and promised to keep their secrets; in this place where he knew it was only him and Draco, Harry felt no need to keep himself hidden, even though the darkness did it very effectively from prying eyes. Just like before, when they shared their first real kiss, Harry felt safe and content in the arms of someone he despised just a few short years ago - heck, months ago. And that's why Harry knew he could no longer lie to Draco or himself - not in this place.
"I'm afraid," Harry answered truthfully, his hands finding Draco's shirt and gripping the cloth tightly, as if preventing Draco from running away.
"You're afraid of a lot of things," Draco chuckled, running his fingers up in Harry's gnarled hair. A conversation drifted back to Harry, causing him to shudder against the sudden chill on the back of his neck, and moldy damp smell that suddenly filled his nose.
"Why are you afraid of me, Harry?"
"I'm not afraid of you," Harry protested out of honesty. Harry started to raise his head, but Draco wouldn't let him. "I'm afraid of what you can do to me."
"I won't hurt you, Harry," Draco whispered with conviction, his fingers tightening on Harry's person and clenching him close.
"There are many ranges of hurt," Harry croaked out, his voice dry and crusty. They both knew who had said that before and the darkness seemed to stir uncomfortably.
"To the best of my ability," Draco swore into Harry's hair, "I will avoid them."
Harry closed his eyes to listen to Draco's voice, listen to the strong noise that resonated around them. His voice was thick with promise that lay heavy on Harry's shoulders. Promises that were made by a boy that, for all looks and differences, appeared to be a man. But both man and child can still break their promises without knowing they had.
"You don't know what you promise," Harry told him, shaking his head.
"Then tell me!" Draco's voice had risen in its urgency to know the truth that Harry held away from him. "Tell me what you're keeping from me!"
"I can't!" Harry shouted back, equally loud, in urgency to keep the truth secret.
"I have to know, Harry!" Draco yelled, pulling back from his companion and leaving Harry in the darkness. Harry sucked in his breath quickly, swiping at the air in front of him to see if Draco was still there. But he encountered nothing. Already, one promise was broken and Harry felt a surge of anger at being deceived.
"Why can't you just wait for me?!" Harry shouted, fists clenched at his sides.
"I'm always waiting for you! I always am! There's nothing else I can do!"
"Nothing else?!" Harry screamed, his rage overtaking him. "You can love me for what I am! Even if there are secrets still, you can love me for what I have already given you!"
"There is no love in secrets!" Draco's voice was one of pure rage, tainting the shadows in murky red.
"Then why don't you ever tell me what you told to Luna!?" Harry raged back and there was an echoing silence, like his voice had manifested claws and had delivered a blow to the other person in the room.
"...Harry..."
"You told her things that you will never speak to me about!" Harry screamed, feeling broken and betrayed. "If that is not keeping secrets from me, then I don't know what is."
"I don't...I don't want to say those things again, Harry," Draco's voice sounded broken too. "It was too hard the first time."
"And my secret kills me everyday," Harry spat, but it only held thorns of internal pain. "This secret will drive you away. I know it."
There was silence from Draco and Harry felt himself tremble, a fearful thought entering his mind. Perhaps he left the room. Perhaps Draco couldn't deal with the actual seriousness of their relationship; Harry knew he barely could. But then he felt the shift in the air, his only warning, before a hot, open mouth took his. Harry knew it was Draco just by his initial approach. Always open, like arms that grabbed him immediately to crush him to his body. Always warm, to drive away the coldness that plagued Harry ever since those days in Voldemort's dungeon. Weak and tired, Harry opened his mouth to welcome Draco back to him, having no strength to fight with his companion any longer. They tangled in a familiar dance, their slow, unhurried dance that probed Harry deeper then any quick kiss could. Then they were falling to the floor, Draco on top of him, and he was whispering things to him. Harry couldn't make it out, didn't want to at that moment. All he wanted was Draco, only Draco. It was all he ever wanted.
They kissed and they touched. Draco had settled in-between Harry's legs and a moment of panic swelled him, which Draco tried to kiss away.
"It's all right," he whispered between kisses. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. Just relax, Harry. I won't do anything..."
And for some very long moments, Draco did nothing but lie between his legs, touch him lightly, and kiss him. Harry began to relax, to kiss back, and found his hands sliding up Draco's back underneath his shirt. It felt smooth and flawless and tears leaked out of Harry's eyes at the unfamiliar feel of the perfect plane of skin. He was glad they were in darkness and Draco could not see his tears; he would never be able to explain how good Draco felt.
"Don't stop," Draco breathed next to his ear, drawing away to kiss Harry's collarbone before that wet tear could hit him. "That's a rather weak spot of mine."
"Yeah," Harry whispered, his voice barely leaving his lips. "Mine too."
"Get on top of me?" Draco asked against his cheek and Harry opened his eyes, tensing in panic. "Just like me, Harry. Just to see how it feels?"
"All...all right," Harry consented shakily and they both rolled over. At first, Harry tried not to touch Draco too much, even though he was lying on top of him. He used his arms for leverage to keep his body up, blinking at the darkness where Draco should be. Then hands broke through the night and started pulling him down slowly, in-between Draco's spread legs.
"It's all right, Harry," Draco whispered and he lifted his head to take Harry's lips within his own. After a few moments of the familiar routine, Harry laid his entire body down over Draco and wrapped his arms around his neck, letting him rest his head on his arms. Draco's arms slipped around his waist, letting his fingers trace the open flesh where Harry's shirt rose.
"You had all of this planned," Harry breathed when their lips broke apart. "Get in a fight with Harry and have a make-up snog afterwards."
"Mmm," and Harry could tell he was grinning, "I also hoped that during that make-up snog, I could get you to talk dirty to me."
"Does my boyfriend have a little fetish?" Harry chortled before Draco began kissing his neck and his thoughts began to get muddled.
"Come on, Harry," Draco whispered, grinning against his skin. "Talk dirty to me..."
"Um...all right..." Harry breathed, his eyes flickering closed. "Um, let's see...dirty water...mud puddles...mud pies...dirty puppies..."
Draco began laughing against Harry's neck, his breath tickling across the wet skin, and soon Harry was squirming and laughing too. Their kisses began to rain more freely on one another between the light chuckles that rent the air, before humor fled from them as their kissing became serious again. Harry was lost to the moment, to Draco's tongue in his mouth and on his skin. It was perfect, despite the uncomfortable shift from time to time, as their boyish bodies didn't quite fit perfectly together. It more then made up for Draco's light caress and open-mouth kisses that Harry found himself adoring and shuddering against.
"Harry, what's this?" Draco mumbled against his mouth.
Harry loved when Draco would talk against his lips, telling him things that he barely understood through the muffle. It was something endearing, something Draco couldn't help but do because Harry believed he didn't know he did it.
"Harry, what is this?" Draco asked again, sounding slightly upset.
What Harry loved most, though, was the way Draco felt. His skin was just perfect, so soft...surely, Draco must bathe in milk and lotion to make it feel this way. It was just impossible to just glide so easily over it.
"Harry, what the hell is this?!" Draco yelled, breaking through Harry's fuzzy thoughts. At first, he didn't know what Draco was talking about and blinked confused at the darkness. And then, after a moment, he felt Draco's hand. He felt the hand touch the ruffled skin with trembling digits, feeling each curve and rippled flesh with horror. Harry breathed in sharply, his throat closing up after his last breath, and he became very still. A heavy feeling settled into Harry's gut and he knew it was what a knife would feel if it was resting there. It twisted painfully and made it hard to think, to say, to do anything but suck in his stomach.
"Tell me what this is!" Draco shouted, his voice cracking with horror and Harry knew he was beginning to die.
"It's...it's a scar..." Harry choked out just as Draco's hand quickly withdrew like it had been finally burned. Harry closed his eyes painfully as he heard Draco rubbing his hand furiously against his leg, as if to wipe off the germs that he could have caught by touching that distorted flesh.
"Oh, Merlin," Draco struggled out and Harry heard the disgust like it was a bell inside his head, constantly ringing. He began to feel sick himself. He drew away from Draco and he heard his companion scramble up to his feet.
"Harry...I..." Draco started and stopped. Then the footsteps began and Draco ran away from Harry, out the door. It slammed loudly behind him. Harry stayed where he was, his hands shaking against his thighs as he stared down at the darkness. At first, there was nothing but the numbing shock that weighed on his neck, like a heavy stone. It made Harry kneel forward, start to crawl towards some unknown destination. But he didn't make it very far. The stone shattered suddenly and the wave of sickness returned with acid tears. Shakily, Harry put his hands over his mouth, sitting back on his haunches. And screamed. Screamed into his cupped hands like a dying man, like a broken child, who had found his murdered family and the blood soaked his clothes. Screamed so hard that it barely left his throat, the agony closing the channel up into a tight tunnel so it only left his lips in a whimper. Screamed until he was broken and the tears overtook the scream, falling like a wave after wave in the ocean. Harry collapsed and curled within himself, covering his face to bury those burning tears into his hands, and was sure that he did not have the strength to leave this room again. In this room, he was safe. In this room, only the darkness saw him, and accepted all of his faults; it held a tissue for all his tears, and caressed his scars like a loving mother.
In the darkness, Harry was home and no one could hurt him.
"There are many ranges of hurt." - Luna Lovegood
"...Harry? Harry, is that you?"
Harry stirred away from sleep, blinking crusty eyes that hurt against the glare of pure darkness still around him. There was a small patch of light behind him, where shadows and faceless forms kept flickering in its path. His cheeks hurt from crying, like a tender wound that had been torn open by salty water. He touched them shakily, his chest clenching painfully, and immediately his eyes began to get watery again.
"When you didn't come back to the common room, I started to get worried..." Hermione's voice coasted over the darkness, her footsteps tapping into the room. Harry slowly began to roll over to greet her. "Moaning Myrtle helped...H-Harry..." Her voice cracked when she saw him, her silhouette stopping in the middle of the room.
"I'm sorry," he croaked, feeling a twinge of guilt at having Hermione come after him. He started to sit up, but it was a slow process because his body ached from lying on the floor...and for many other reasons as well. Hermione immediately rushed over, collapsing on her knees with a loud thud that made Harry wince in pain. Her hands were on his shoulders, helping him up, and then pulling him into her arms in a desperate, confused hug.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, her trembling hands running over his back.
"Don't-," Harry choked. "Don't - my scars -."
"I don't fucking care about your scars!" Hermione growled with conviction, pulling him and making a point to dig her fingers into his back, knowing she could feel the rippled surface despite his shirt. It was all Harry could take when he saw her concerned face. He broke again and tried to hide his face from her, ashamed with himself. He didn't want Hermione to find him like this. Not when he couldn't control himself, not when the memory was still fresh. He was in her arms again, burying his burning face into her chest.
"Oh my God, Harry," Hermione whispered, panic in her voice at seeing her best friend crumble in her hands. She clutched at him, as if trying to hold him together, afraid that he would shatter right before her and she would never be able to put him together again. "Oh my God, Harry, please stop, please, please stop."
"I wish it would!" Harry whispered furiously, trying to hold onto her as well, but finding his limbs like lead. He could only cry softly and wish he was dead; anything was better than this.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, whatever it is, I'm so sorry. Please, Harry, stop...Oh God, Harry, please, I'm sorry...!" And she started to cry too, because seeing him like this was too much for her.
"It doesn't matter what is on the outside. Most of what you see at face value are just lies anyway." – Luna Lovegood
Saturday passed without Harry Potter's presence, Harry whom no one had seen since late Friday night when he left with his boyfriend. Rumors spread behind cupped hands and low voices. Girls shrieked and boys rolled their eyes as the story continued to get notoriously evil and naughty, that Harry had been shagged so well by Draco that he couldn't even move. Very few, though, knew the truth and their voices were small against the rumor mill, so they were forced to stop and keep quiet. When Draco Malfoy failed to make an appearance as well, the school went into hysterics. Perhaps they were still in some room, shagging away? People spent the entire day searching for the pair, to break into their lovemaking sessions and take a few pictures that would make the Daily Prophet proud. More bets were placed to see how long they would last and finally come back to the living. But few Slytherins knew that Malfoy had locked himself in his room (kicking his roommates out) and there were no sounds of shagging coming through that thick door. When dinner came and there was still no sight of the pair, some girls got so worked up that they were sent to the infirmary when they fainted from their tables. Stretchers carrying immobile ladies became part of the traffic and caused quite a commotion, or else they would have taken notice of Hermione screaming that people needed to get lives before making frustrated noises and fleeing the Great Hall.
"If I see Draco Malfoy's face, I'm going to beat it in," Ron growled furiously as he ate. His face had turned a permanent shade of red for the entire day and it was slowly seeping to a purple that, if Harry saw it, would have reminded him of Uncle Vernon. The boys around him, Seamus, Dean, and Neville, all nodded their agreements. They knew the real story because they were, after all, Harry's roommates. And it also didn't help that they stayed up to embarrass Harry silly when he returned, to only watched open-mouthed when Hermione came helping Harry into their dormitory.
"And don't forget this cool little thing we learned in class," Seamus pitched in, looking thoughtful. "What was it again? Oh...Oh yes, it's this thing called Magic and Wands."
"Fine," Ron spat, not exactly in the best mood at the moment. "You hex him while I play Quidditch with his kidneys."
"Good deal," Seamus nodded seriously, though there was a glint in his eyes.
"Your soul is in your smile, Harry. Only a few can see it, but for those who can...they are all that matter." – Luna Lovegood
All four boys would miss their chance though as they would find out later on. Harry Potter stumbled about in his shared dorm room that evening, silently thanking the house elf that left a bowl of water and washcloth on his bedside table. Wetting the cloth as he sat down, Harry covered his face with it and sighed, ignoring the drops of water that dripped onto his pajama bottoms. He was wearing his favorite sweatshirt; something Hermione was kind enough to help him into last night before she put him to bed. His cheeks started burning when he thought about what he told her, about how Draco had left him when he found out about his scars, and how he had cried all over her. The tears really humiliated him; he had never cried in front of Hermione before and he hoped he would never have to again.
Lying on his back with his legs dangling over the bed, Harry let the cooling cloth rest on his face and breathed with difficulty. It all felt like a horrible nightmare, something he dreamt up last night, and it was just an old memory. The only thing that kept it real though was how Harry couldn't bear leaving his room right now. He supposed he was afraid that if he left, everybody would know. Look at him and know. It was hard enough dealing with it himself without everyone jumping in to help. He didn't need that right now. All he wanted was to sleep and bury the nightmare away with other dreams that weren't so hard to face.
Lost in thought, Harry missed the sound of his door opening and closing. He was just drifting off again, into the arms of a warm dream, when he felt the cloth lift off his face. Blinking sleepily, Harry peered at the blurry shadow that was hovering above him. When he saw his glasses being put on his face, Harry knew who it was immediately without having to see him. Draco was the one who had taken his glasses with him.
Draco was halfway on his bed, his knee dipping into the mattress and his hand holding him up above Harry's body. His eyes were narrowed with a determined, angry glint that at first made Harry stiffen in shock and fear. Then it made him angry, like something had snapped inside his head with a crack, and he shoved Draco off his bed and away from him. The boy stumbled onto his feet, with Harry scrambling off his bed to his own with his hands balled into fists.
"What do you want?" Harry hissed desperately, wanting Draco out, out of his room and out of his head, and he was willing to cause physical harm to do so. He was so angry now, when just before he was utterly miserable. He wanted to kill Draco for doing this to him, for making him cry especially in front of his best friends, and he wanted to kill him for making promises he didn't even keep for a day. It hurt, hurt just as much as the scars did when they were made; scars that Draco ran away from. Only this time the pain was internal and it wouldn't come out any other way besides from his mouth and eyes. And that was agony for Harry, to writhe so pathetically and he could do nothing about it. He couldn't take a potion to ease it; he couldn't silence it because it was still screaming in his head. No wand could heal it or erase it; it was there, wrenching at his heart and gut like a string with a hook, and nothing was going to make it go away. It? What was it? It was the truth that Harry knew all along. That he was an ugly, pathetic, stupid little boy whom people idolized but could never understand. Because he was different. He was weird and different, with tons of scars to prove it but nothing to make it clearer for people to see. To see and understand and know what he was going through, because surely no one felt this way, or did the things he did, because he was so fucking weird.
"I want to see it," Draco demanded, placing his feet determinedly on the floor. His fists were also clenched at his sides, his robes billowing out around his legs as if daring Harry to approach him and kick him out. Harry was just that daring.
"Get out," Harry seethed between clenched teeth, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Get out!"
"I want to see it!" Draco yelled back, one fist rising in defense. "You owe me that much!"
"I don't owe you anything!" Harry screamed, furious. "I don't owe you jack shit!"
"You do, you fucking bloke," Draco spat, his voice turning flat with fury. "You made me kill my fucking father for you. The least you could do is let me see your back."
The shock that entered Harry's system at Draco's words was worse than a surprise attack of cold water in his face. It was like the night before; like Draco's voice had claws and they had sunk into his skin, too fast and quick to react and dodge the blow. They sank slowly into Harry's skin, past his shoulders and down his arms, where his clenched fists lost their strength and grew slack.
"I'm...I'm sorry," Harry muttered. "I. I forgot about that."
"I didn't," Draco replied tightly, though his voice lacked the edge of anger. Harry felt himself collapsing backwards, not aware that he willed his body to do so, and he sat heavily on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. His mind was swirling with questions now; the anger was no longer holding them back. Why was Draco here? Why did he leave last night if he was here now? Why did he want to see his back? Why, why, why?
"Why?" Harry whispered out loud, feeling broken all over again. He refused to cry though. He lost himself to Hermione. He was not going to lose himself in front of Draco. He already took too much from him.
"Because I need to, Harry," Draco said, and his voice sounded strained, like he was holding back something as well. "Because I need to." His voice cracked in the end.
Harry sighed, placing his face in his hands, and shaking his head at the absurdity of even considering it. His middle finger came in contact with his lightning bolt scar, and he traced it with rough fingers, wishing he could just rub it away.
"Why should I let you?" Harry asked between his fingers, digging his nails into his forehead to counter the pain rising up in his chest. "You left last night, who says you aren't going to leave again?"
Draco was silent for a while and Harry didn't want to raise his head to wonder why. He just wanted to hide behind his hands forever. When Draco didn't reply to the question though, Harry realized that he didn't really want the answer anyway. Draco wasn't making any promises that he wasn't sure he could keep.
"It isn't pretty, Draco," Harry told him, lifting his head slowly from his hands, but looked at the floor. Draco still said nothing and, afraid that he somehow had left when he wasn't looking, Harry quickly looked up. Draco was still standing there, but he was looking away too, at the floor, unmoving. He seemed resolute. Harry, sighing and still wondering why, stood up quickly. Before he lost his nerve, he was tearing off his shirt and turning away from his boyfriend, clenching the material that still wrapped around his arms. There was, again, silence from Draco and Harry hung his head, nibbling on the end of his shirt nervously, and waited for the door to sound. To open and close in Draco's passing as he decided that Harry really was too ugly to look at.
He was surprised to feel gentle fingers touch his back.
"Draco?" Harry squeaked, stopping himself from jerking away in surprise. The fingers continued to search and touch gently, tracing over each nasty curve. They trembled sometimes and every time, Harry braced himself for them to jerk away and to listen to Draco's hurried steps as he ran away from him again. But it never happened. Moments passed as Draco continued to touch his back and Harry let him, lowering his head to bury it in his sweatshirt.
"How did this happen?" Draco asked softly, his voice sounding dry from disuse.
"When Luna and I were captured," he replied, closing his eyes with a swallow. "They called it-."
"The Burning curse," Draco overrode. "People have been trying to press the Ministry into putting it as another Unforgivable."
"Oh," was all Harry managed to say. Draco's fingers were stroking the smooth, unaffected skin, his lower back where small hairs grew. He shuddered.
"But I suppose," Draco said thoughtfully as he played with the small hairs, making Harry groan into his shirt, "that any dark magic should be unforgivable."
"It...It just depends on how you use it," Harry protested, lifting his head slightly. "If you use it for dark purposes, then it's dark magic."
"No, Harry," Draco said firmly. "There are no good purposes for most dark magic. There is nothing good about the Burning curse."
Harry found he could say nothing more, so he just lowered his head in acceptance. Draco's fingers were in his hair now, driving upwards before slowly dripping away down onto his smooth neck and then into the scars again. In more ways than one, Harry was honest when he said that his back was his weak spot. Before he received the scars, he used to love to get back massages, especially from Hermione. They were wonderful for the knots that built along his neck, but it was also because it felt very good. He was sure that no one would ever do that for him again or, for that matter, he would never let anyone come close to doing so.
"Why are you doing this?" Harry whispered, lifting his eyes to stare at the wall before him.
"I'm trying to understand," the boy behind him replied. A hand came in full contact with Harry's back then, fingers spreading across the distorted flesh. Harry felt his eyes close again, sighing softly.
"It kind of makes me...It kind of makes me want to scratch it off..." Draco said wonderingly and Harry laughed softly.
"Me too," he said and his voice cracked without any warning. He ducked his head again, fingers squeezing at eyes that suddenly peaked with tears.
"You know, Harry..." Draco started and only pausing to sigh. "I may not be able to tell you all of my secrets yet..." Hands fell on his shoulders and slowly turned him around. "But thank you for telling me yours."
Harry kept his head ducked, chuckling hoarsely as he tried to wipe at his eyes without making it obvious.
"Hey," Harry choked on tears and laughter. "No problem."
It was also no problem for Draco to easily duck underneath Harry's bowed head and catch his lips - the same way he always did. Hot and open. His lips possessed Harry's, covering them and protecting them as he carried Harry's head back up. Then they were body-to-body, chest-to-chest, and Draco's hands were on Harry's back - hands occasionally trembling with emotion, but stroking the flesh like the scars were not there and it was only smooth and pure. Just like Harry wanted.
Fin