Prompt: Middles
There was a Middle to everything, of course.
People could always meet halfway on nearly everything, whether it was how to solve a war, or merely what they were going to have for breakfast that morning.
Harry had decided long ago that this was never going to happen as long as he was with Draco Malfoy, because the man managed to disagree on nearly everything he thought up. Sometimes, Harry thought Draco did it on purpose. Their middle ground was invisible, a tiny black dot in an unmistakably black horizon, and he knew that Draco knew that he knew it.
"Where're we going to eat tonight?"
"What?"
"Eating, Draco. It's our anniversary…two years, remember?"
"Eh."
A sigh. "Can you just tell me where? I feel like Chinese."
"I don't."
"And Indian? How about Russian? Caribbean?"
"And pizza?"
Angrily, "It's our anniversary, Draco!"
"…Fine, you can have your own box, then."
Harry stood on the edge of a very dangerous chasm, sometimes, teetering above the brink of his existence, never moving, always still, and waiting quietly, patiently, almost for too long, watching Draco's figure across the chasm.
Neither made the move towards each other.
"Let's go shopping," Draco said brightly. Harry looked up, looked down, and the pressed at his forehead.
"It's four o'clock in the morning, Draco. Can we go later on today?"
"I'm in the mood for new things. Let's go!"
Harry rolled over, and said nothing. Draco shoved him off of the bed. Sputtering, Harry stood, and then snatched a pillow away from the blonde and ripped off a sheet, then stalked away into their living room.
"Later, then?" Draco called after him.
Harry ignored him, flopped onto the couch, and tried again. Not a minute later, he felt a warm body press into his own, a mumbled apology, and an order to get back into the bed.
"We can go later," Harry yawned as he shuffled groggily after the blonde. Draco waited until they were both half-asleep before looked over at Harry with hooded eyes.
"I don't want to go anymore. 'Night."
The Harry on the edge of the chasm looked down into the endless void, peering briefly at Draco, before he pulled up one foot. Draco looked up instantly, and a cross look flitted across his face before he returned to being his indifferent self again.
Harry peered down again.
"I want to murder him," Harry muttered across his coffee, welcoming the scent of the caffeine that woke him up every morning. Footsteps were heard before Hermione could answer, and he rolled his eyes. "Watch."
Draco peeked in, nodded at Hermione, and then looked straight to Harry. "Got a call back from the Ministry, we can have our leave for the vacation."
Hermione shot a look at Harry, but he ignored her. "And when are we leaving? On the twenty-fifth, like I asked, or on the twelfth?"
"Forget that," Draco said, waving a hand. "We've got two hours to get to the Floo hub. Let's go."
Harry didn't bother looking to Hermione as she spilled her tea.
"Tan or red?"
"How about light beige?"
"Red it is. Blue sheets or white?"
"White?"
"I wanted blue."
"Well, then, let's get powder-blue."
"I see green. Forget it."
Harry-Across-The-Chasm blinked, shrugged, and pulled his foot back from the dangerous step he had been about to take. Sighing a little morosely, he took a few steps back, and then turned around completely. Lifting a hand in farewell, he started to walk away.
Draco started, stared at the retreating figure.
Harry was starting to wonder when Draco would get it. He was naïve; he knew that, but not so much so that he knew this wasn't going to work out. It was raining outside, Draco couldn't decide what they were going to do to pass the time, and he was tired.
"Where are you going?" the blonde asked, watching as Harry grabbed his keys, and stepped outside of the door.
"For a long walk."
"It's raining."
"I know."
Harry couldn't help but feel strangely guilty as he slammed the door in Draco's face, seeing the dejected expression.
"I can't help it, you know," a voice came through the door.
The rain pattered softly against Harry's skin, and he didn't move. Leaning against the wall, he tilted his face towards the heavens, willing the rain to wash him away.
"I'm not going to blame it on my pride, or my upbringing, even though I know that's what you want me to say. It's what you want to hear, am I right?"
Harry sank down, sitting on the ground with his knees bent, head nestled on top of them, eyes clear and brain confounded. His wand was jutting up from his pocket, and he considered using it to shield himself from the cold he was starting to feel, but ignored it. Let him be sick; he had been lovesick, heartsick, homesick, and every other type of ailment associated with things cherished too much, too often.
"I'm sorry. It's just me, being me."
Draco-Across-The-Chasm took a running leap, and Harry turned, frightened even though he hadn't seen anything. He sprinted for the abyss, knowing it was too late, and that nothing he could do would help his lover to cross the inescapable tendrils of darkness reaching out to take him in. Harry closed his eyes, and plunged as well.
The rain was cool, and it had turned rough and felt like needles prickling at his skin. His breath misted across the air, and he realized the liquids falling across his face weren't rain after all.
You're an idiot, Potter.
And you're queer, which is two things we both are.
We're not the same. There's nothing we can agree on.
But there's always a middle ground.
No. Never.
Never?
Never.
They both opened their eyes at the same time, at the same moment Draco opened the door so Harry could fall back in. They were sitting on an upraised rock, that tiny dot they had nearly missed, now standing on the mercifully just wide enough space, clutching each other as though they were all they had left.
And sometimes, that was enough.
Green eyes met gray, albeit upside-down. Grinning slightly, Harry sat up, and turned himself around, shutting the door behind him as he stood up. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
"Going for a walk?" he repeated incredulously. "A swim is more like it."
Harry grabbed his wrists, laughed, and pulled them closer together. He brought his lips down on Draco's with bruising force, removing all snide comments from the blonde, and it wasn't until minutes later that they broke apart.
"The bed?" Harry said softly.
"The couch," Draco said, grinning wryly.
Harry hesitated, and then they both smiled, speaking their thoughts aloud in unison.
"The floor."
Written while listening to...er...a song. By The Used. Must find out name...