…
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep."
- from 'Passing By Woods On A Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost
"Hah!" Harry laughed, wiping a few spits of rain from his glasses carelessly. "And I thought you were here to see me. You want help? That's all? I should've guessed." He didn't care that his voice sounded bitter and accusatory. He didn't care that Draco looked as if Harry had just hit him, blinking a suspicious wetness in his eyes away. What he had said was still spinning in Harry's mind. I wouldn't bet on it… "You never loved me, did you? You're such a typical Slytherin. You got everything you wanted: sex and glory." He sneered, half turning away.
Draco grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, his eyes wild and dangerous. Harry felt a shudder down his spine despite himself. "Don't say that," Draco hissed, his face just inches away from Harry's. "Don't you dare say that." His voice was low and deceptively soft. "I loved you, you idiot. Why do you have to keep bringing up the past?" He let go of Harry's shoulder roughly, pushing him back. Harry staggered, falling against the edge of the basin. "We're not in school any more. I'm not a Slytherin any more!"
"Fuck you, Malfoy," Harry spat.
"Grow up, Potter."
There was a long silence in which Harry avoided Draco's burning eyes. He didn't want to see anything in them. He remembered the last time – the emerald fleck in the iris – and bowed his head. The colour green haunted Voldemort's presence.
"All right," he said, taking a steadying breath. "What is it you want, Malfoy? What help?" He looked up and was barely prepared for the Draco he saw before him. Pale and trembling, his hands hung by his sides. He was looking at Harry helplessly, the animosity and fury erased as if it had never been there. The air between them felt like treacle. Harry wanted to step forward, extend the first hand. He wanted things to be as they were before they kissed. He cursed himself silently for that mistake, but didn't move.
"Harry," Draco sighed, sounding defeated. "I have a little problem." His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head. "Please, let's go somewhere else. My hotel. Your flat." He looked up at Harry again, his eyes pale and flat. There was no trace of anything Other. "It's cold."
"No." Harry clenched his fists. He was cold, but he would not give Malfoy this. He didn't want to bring this foul business back to pollute his home. "Whatever you have to say to me, say it here. Then we part ways."
"But Harry," Draco took a step towards Harry, holding out his hands. "I need your help!"
"We'll see." Harry looked away, across the square. People were moving again, venturing out from the cafés and shops in which they had taken shelter. Raincoated shoppers traversed the streets again. Soon the dripping plaza would be busy. "And make it quick." When he stopped pretending to not care, Draco's words about love came back to sting his heart. He grit his teeth and willed himself to be cold.
Draco seemed to be struggling with something. His eyes looked far away. His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. "Harry," he began, "you have a reputation for being exceptional at defence against the dark arts."
"Naturally," was Harry's short reply.
"There are none better than you."
"There are plenty better than me, Malfoy. Get to your point."
Draco took a step as if he were about to begin pacing, but pulled himself up short. Harry couldn't help noticing that he was chewing his lip and was quietly surprised. Sometimes, it seemed as if the man hadn't changed at all, and other times…
"Harry, I need your help with a dark arts matter."
"No," he said. "I won't help you with whatever unthinkable thing you're doing these days." Harry tilted his head and looked down his nose at Malfoy. "If you thought I would, you're more stupid than I ever gave you credit for."
Draco stared at Harry for a moment before shaking his head. "Are you ever going to listen to me, Potter?" His voice was quiet and resigned, as if he knew asking such a question was pointless. He looked suddenly very small and normal, his shirt stuck to his skin, eyes dull. It was as if he had shrunk from being Draco Malfoy to being just another person. Harry's heart ached. He wanted to take Draco in his arms again. But you don't love me… You never did.
"I'm listening, Draco," he said softly, taking a step towards him. "I'm listening now."
"Don't hold it against me," Draco said. "I was afraid. I only wanted to protect you."
"Why? From your 'little problem'?"
"Yes," his voice was suddenly harsh and Harry flinched. "I only wanted to protect you, Harry. From me." He looked away and spoke through gritted teeth. "From my curse."
"Curse?" Harry whispered. He couldn't move. He only wanted to be close to Draco, to breathe in the cool scent of his skin.
The anger, the tension was rolling off Draco in waves. "I'm cursed, Harry," he murmured. He was close enough now that Harry could feel the heat from his soaked body. "Cursed, for the rest of my days. With no cure." He turned his eyes away.
Harry stared at his lips. Soft, delicate. Pale, like the rest of him. He missed Draco. "What do you mean?" He said to stop himself from kissing Draco's lips. "What do you mean, cursed?"
"Don't tell anyone, Harry," Draco's hand gripped Harry's arm convulsively. "No one knows. Not even…" he trailed off, and Harry glanced down at his cufflinks. "Yes. Not even him."
"Have you seen him?" Harry asked, looking down at Draco's hand where it clutched his work shirt. No electric tingles this time. Just a wet, dark feeling. "Since the end of the war?"
"Once or twice." Draco shrugged, releasing Harry. "I visited him in Azkaban, just before he broke out. The prison's useless now, without the Dementors."
Harry felt as if there was ice seeping through his veins. His head felt light. He broke out of Azkaban? When had that happened? How long ago? He could be coming for him! He could be coming now! And Draco cursed? Maybe by him! He felt hands on his shoulders, gripping him firmly, and swallowed.
"…Harry?"
Draco was saying his name.
"Harry, come back."
He could feel the darkness, its intrusive tendrils fingering his brain. He didn't want to give in to it! Draco's face was in front of him, his eyes silver and deep. Don't give in… He didn't want to go back again. He had lived through it once, he didn't need another flashback!
"Harry, I love you!"
He was jolted immediately back to the present. Staring into Draco's eyes, he stopped breathing. "What did you say?" Seconds ticked by, stretching like hours. Tiny, wet raindrops fell. "Draco?"
Draco attempted a weak chuckle. "I thought that would get your attention." His attempted smile fell flat in the face of Harry's stony expression.
Without saying a word, Harry brushed past Draco and started walking away. He kept his back turned, shoulders hunched, as Draco called to him. If you loved me, you'd follow me. The calls got fainter as Harry strode away, seeing nothing. Rain was beginning to fall again. Cold, wet drops penetrated his damp shirt easily, chilling his skin. He felt dead. Rain dripped from his hair. Salty droplets welled behind his glasses. He was numb.
He didn't know where his steps directed him after Draco's calls fell into a deathly silence. Harry could hear nothing. Not even the cars that purred silently by, ploughing through puddles and soaking him further. Rain deadened everything, the colour bleeding out of the city. Grey sky, grey streets. He found himself on the railway bridge over the river.
The water below, confined by concrete and steel, was black. The raindrops made ripple-circles on its surface. It was like a drowning pool. Harry leaned over the rusty beams, hanging his upper body out over the water. I'm such a fool.
He thought about falling into the water, his pockets laden with stones. Sinking deep into the bone-numbing cold, the darkness, dying, dying… His head spun and Harry leaned back, gripping the cold metal as he closed his eyes.
A train thundered by, breaking the silence. It roared deafeningly, the screaming of metal on metal and the shriek of gears filling up the whole world, and Harry. He staggered backwards as he let go of the metal, eyes wide. He threw himself sideways, out of the streaming wind of the speeding train and onto the ground beside the rushing wheels. He put his head in his arms, tears of fear and love leaking into his shirt. He felt like a child, cowering.
The train was gone again, leaving behind it a gaping wide space and the hum of the electricity on the rails. Harry looked up, along the railway. He could see his apartment building from here. The spires of the city rose beyond it, silver and grey, glinting in the rain light.
He wouldn't give up yet. Slowly, he stood up, scraping the mud from his clothes as if in a daze. He sighed resignedly.
He froze when a chillingly familiar voice spoke behind him.
"Mr Potter."
Harry's blood ran cold. He turned to find himself looking up into a face as pale as death framed by greasy dark locks.
"Good afternoon, Mr Potter," Snape said.
…
Author's Note:
Once more, I come before you bearing bad prose. I apologise.
But to my reviewers, yet another thank you, and an 'I love you'! makes eyes at 'bookworm You can't just leave me hanging on a thread like that! What's your idea? I'm curious now. :)
Yes, Draco is cursed! Cue the gasps and the 'I told you so's. But that is not all to do with our dear Mr Malfoy. He has yet more secrets to reveal. cackle
Jen
xox