Café
By King
Disclaimer - This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
He ached. His lungs, burning from exhaustion, ached. His legs, muscles worn, ached. His soul, blasé and world-weary, ached. Yet still he persisted in a relentless charge through a maze of slender iron legged chairs and elegant little tables. He paused. And stood there. Waiting. Watching. Watching Draco Malfoy.
His eyes, those soft metallic orbs, raked over his frame, and Harry knew exactly what he'd see. He'd see an awkward little boy in this body that seems too large and at the same time cramped. He'd see the limp, dark curls and the parchment skin stretched across an emaciated figure. He'd see the dark circles playing their fanciful game of ring-around-the-posies under his eyes. But Harry refused to believe that he'd see the crystal butterfly breaking.
"You look god awful."
Harry grinned. It was an old habit he had picked up. Never admit you aren't a god, Harry. Never let anyone believe that you can't save the world, Harry. Never allow yourself to be weak, Harry. KILL YOURSELF FOR US, HARRY.
He slipped into the vacant chair and quipped, "Thank you, darling. I never knew you cared."
Malfoy scowled but Harry ignored him. Seeing a fresh iced-latte set before him already, Harry quirked an eyebrow Malfoy's way.
"You were really late. I figured you'd not want to bother with it." He shrugged.
"Supposing I came at all that is."
"You would come."
"I know."
Suppositions jaded, faded, comfortable. Meaning nothing while meaning everything.
Malfoy stirred his chai as he studied the other in distraction. Harry had noticed that Malfoy would stir his tea absently whenever he was worried about something. He was constantly stirring his tea.
"Why do you look so tired lately?"
It was an indirect question; one that only skimmed the surface. Just like Malfoy. Just like Harry.
"He won't leave me alone."
They were silent. Both seemed ready to bolt at that one statement.
"He doesn't… he doesn't know where…?"
"No. I've made sure he doesn't bother me on Saturdays. It's mostly at night."
The tink tink of Malfoy's spoon tapping the bowel of the cup quickened. He seemed calm; his aristocratic features composed perfectly in that picture of refined dignity plebeians are so very fond of taking for granted. For some reason it irritated Harry. He shifted, restless and his manner pregnant with anticipation.
Malfoy finally glanced up at him. "Do you still dream about your parents?"
"Every once in a while."
"Do you miss them?"
"You'd think I would," Harry replied slowly, "but I don't. Not really in the way you mean, anyway. I never knew my parents. More than anything, I miss the concept of parents."
"Well, you aren't missing anything spectacular. Parents are worthless idiots that have never once in the history of all mankind fulfilled their most important duty to their child."
"And what would that be?"
"Selfless love. No parent on Earth can bear the thought that there is a possiblitytheir child does not love them. But it is the duty of the parent to love the child, not the duty of the child to love the parent."
Harry had never thought on parenthood often. Most likely because of his own parents, or lack-thereof in any case. "Because the child is defenseless and formless. The parent made the choice of bringing it into the world and it is their responsibility to guide it selflessly. Correct?"
Malfoy nodded. "Yes, basically. But it can also be argued that the parent has sacrificed so much and loved so much that gratitude should be expected. It should be mandatory because society has dictated that every family unit should be entirely loving and bound."
"And that's what's safe. It's essential to the building blocks of civilization at large. Without a higher figure to love and obey as a child, you will never acknowledge a ruler as an adult." Harry added.
"But why? Why should we have to follow their wills? Why should we have to love them simply because they sacrificed for us? We did not ask to be thrown into this world of chaos and baseness. They chose that. And we learn to bear under the weight, even though we never once asked for it. And still they persist in their personal indignation at any from of rebellion. They became arrogant in their decision for a child to love when they expected equal repayment."
Harry's bony fingers fumbled across the slick surface of his plastic cup, his teeth gnawing at the neon straw. It wasn't strange, how bitter Malfoy had become. Still, he couldn't help but wonder at how… guilty he sounded.
Harry doubted that he would ever truly understand Malfoy. He speculated whether he even wanted to.
"But they continue to expect it. They try to explain it all away, 'That's just how the world is.'"
Malfoy trembled. It was barely noticeable; it might've been the coolness of the slightly air-conditioned café. Except for the fact that Malfoy had charmed his tea to remain warm at some point.
Harry said nothing.
"But why should it be that way? Why should they have the opportunity to choose for us? Why was the fruit tree grown in the first place?"
"You would rather peace over freedom?"
For a while, Malfoy was silent.
Outside, street vendors called their wares to those whom were deaf but to the insistent ringing of the cellphones held so reverently in their safe, safe pockets. The clinking of sparse pennies rattled within the guitar case belonging to a man that sang about bamboo trees and mushroom clouds. A police siren wailed in the distance.
He looked up. A thin, wane smile infected his countenance.
"You tell me, Saint Potter."
Harry looked down.
"You needn't worry so much over your parents, Malfoy. They aren't worth that."
They both looked away.
And, as par usual, they left to return on the next week. On the same day, the same hour, the same table, the same drinks.
A/N: This came to be a chapter that wrote a lot more smoothly than I had expected. I was putting it off because I really wasn't quite sure what I wanted from it, but I think it's satisfied me. It's slightly different from ones before, but probably only in little things that I'd only notice. And if you hadn't noticed, I switched back to 'Harry-mode'. I'm going to alternating between Draco and him, but I seem to be doing Harry better… while conveying Draco's personality better from Harry's POV. And vise-versa. n-n' I also know that there are some seemingly odd and out of place statements, but if you think about them for a while, they should make sense.
Thank-you again to my reviewers. To Lilabeth for pointing out my error, but I had to take down the quote because just reminded everyone that we really shouldn't be posting lines we haven't written (and I had a whole bunch of quotes that I wanted to use). To shitsNgiggles (interesting choice of name xD): I know, Malfoy as anything else would be entirely too odd. To Yas for your terribly wonderful ego-inflating flattery (and I loved Candide, too).
