Summary: HBP spoilers! What will happen after Draco appears at the Burrow? What chaos will they endure as they struggle to get along? Will they return to Hogwarts? What romance will bubble during Potter's search for the Horcruxes? And is Snape on the side of the light? Find out in this griping tale. Warning: Slash - HPDM, cross dressing (a few chapters), sex, mentions of child abuse, and character death (it is a war).
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his friends
Spoilers: Half Blood Prince, OoP, GoF, PoA, CoS, PS
Broken Window
The Fire Escape
Grey eyes looked in the direction of the other room, the light was on and Har-Potter was no where to be seen. The keys smacked into the broken table only to slide to the floor where Draco left them, forgotten. Curiosity got the better of the blonde and he walked over to the open doorway, when he stepped into the room the floor boards creaked knocking the brunette out of his trance. Wide, green eyes looked at Draco with something new, something that Draco hadn't seen before. Glancing briefly away he spotted the naked bedside table; those grey eyes narrowed and followed a path to the other boy where he was holding a leather-bound book.
The book was tossed to onto the mattress lightly and sprung open to pages laden with Narcissa Malfoy's hand writing. The smaller boy took a step back as Potter's feet hit the purple carpet with a muffled thud. He couldn't understand why he would want to read it, what possessed the brunette to read it, how dare he read it.
Punching the brunette's beautiful face wouldn't get anywhere; he just wanted to know what he had read. What did he know? His mother – from what he could tell so far – chatted often about his abused and things Lucius was up to. But what had he read? It was a slim chance that he had not read about the abuse, but he hoped that was the case.
An attempted to keep his voice steady would surely fail as emotions racked his body – anger and despair shook his ego at the thought of Potter finding out such useful blackmailing information. But would the Gryffindor actually use it against him like a Slytherin would? After clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to ask the question he wanted – yet didn't want – the answer to.
"What did you read?" The voice was soft, and Draco cursed his weakness he needed to show Potter that it didn't bother him that he had read the diary, not that he was on the verge of a breakdown. Potter's eyes eluded his and looked to the floor, his toes buried themselves into the worn carpet, it was as though if he worked hard enough the old, crumbly floor would give way and he'd vanish into the room bellow. Upon realizing that this was actually possible in this nasty old building Draco began to get irritated. He just wanted an answer.
"I read about the abuse and," but Draco didn't hear any more, he couldn't listen to the words spewing out of Potter's mouth. He was feeling faint, and could control his emotions – he was sure several emotions had passed over his face as Potter's own had an apologetic look smeared all over it. "If I had known… I never would've…" trailing off, Potter looked straight at Draco's eyes; the broken gaze was invading Draco's own state of despair.
"I didn't know!" Potter cried out desperately, for a brief moment a look of just sheer anguish passed over Draco's features, before the mask was back in place. Wondering if he had just imagined it, Potter made to stand, but Draco turned his back to the other boy and stalked haughtily away. By the time the brunette made it to the door, saying loudly that he didn't know over and over, Draco was already disappearing into the bathroom door. Potter leaned forward and banged his forehead on the doorframe.
Potter Knew. However what the brunette didn't know or hear was when Draco closed the door to the bathroom his right hand flew instantly to his mouth and nose. It gripped there trying to muffle the sounds of his deep breaths and shudders. Potter Knew. Finger tips brushed against the wire frames of his glasses, upon impulse he gripped the wire and threw them to the floor. Glasses fled from Draco and bounced across the floor. His body smashed into the door behind him as his knees gave way. Potter Knew. He tried to smother the sounds of his sobs; tried to stop the tears from falling; tried to sew himself together. But it was all to no avail as the tears continued to fall and as his sobs just increased in both volume and frequency. Potter Knew. Quivering all over he tried to hold himself together by grasping both arms, allowing sobs to escape from his body freely. Eyes closed tightly trying to become the dam to stop the rivers of tears, but nothing seemed to stop the steady flow from drifting across mountains of flesh, only to plummet onto black clothing. Potter Knew.
A soft knock on the solid oak door brought Draco out of his sniffling, sniveling, self-loathing stupor. Not saying a word, Draco sat with his back flat against the door, unmoving as he pictured Potter with his forehead to the door a satisfied grin plastered onto his beaming face, awaiting the door to open to meet red-rimmed eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. But a soft voice called out to Draco, the voice he had been talking to all afternoon – Blake. The voice was almost inaudible, and Draco couldn't comprehend the words until he listened closely, letting himself mask all of his emotions once more.
"… Are you okay…?" called out the voice attentively, but the blonde sitting against the door didn't answer, Blake didn't know what to do. He extended his hand and knocked softly on the door, but Blake didn't here an answer. Leaning his head against the door, Blake whispered into the closed door how he wanted to help Draco, but still the door didn't open. Even though he chatted about how that had become closer friends; even though he told Draco about his own problems; even though Blake stayed against the door waving the shower-goers away. Draco didn't mutter a single word.
It seemed like ages, but Blake still sat, his back pressed up against Draco's through a thick, oak door, and offering his silent support.
The door opened.
Blake stood and slowly opened the door to see Draco, a box of cigarettes in one hand that arm wrapped around himself like a sake, while the other was holding a thin cigarette, his elbow oscillating precariously on his crossed legs. Grey eyes were looking away, towards the window, and one foot was swinging from side to side. The rusted edge of the corroded, crème-coloured tub contaminated the thin, black-linen trousers Draco was wearing, but the blonde didn't seem to care as dust, lint, and tears were scattered about the pants – tainting them. Blake felt like he was disturbing a photo session for a certain type of cigarettes upon entering the smoky bathroom.
"He read my mother's diary," Draco stated simply, after letting out a long stream of smoke from between his chapped lips. Blake didn't speak; the corners of his mouth were turned down, eyes watching as the end of the cigarette turned orange to grey only to fall off as Draco let out another stead puff. "It talked about history I want no one to know, history that no one knew." Standing abruptly from his seat on the tub, Draco threw his cigarette at the wall and paced around the small room. Linoleum flooring groaned as if in pain as boots walled in erratic, frantic circles. "That's why I'm upset!" he yelled, his pacing stopped after a few long moments of silence.
"Do you wish to tell me?"
"No!" Draco cried out at Blake's question, his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Draco took off, pushing Blake aside and exciting the bathroom. Potter stood in the doorway his head still pressed up against the wood doorframe as if punishing himself for bad behavior. Storming past, Draco did not listen as Potter opened his mouth to speak; he went to the fire escape and lit up another cigarette, debating what to do next. Potter came to the fire escape and stood behind the window, green eyes looked on through the window. Neither spoke.
They stood there; the only noises that could be heard were the inhale and exhale of their breath and Draco's cigarette. Har-Potter sighed deeply and turned to leave, but he lingered for a moment and said, "I might have read the diary without your consent, but I found out something about Voldemort that I needed to know… so I guess thank you… I won't ever read it without asking you first, but I think that it will be to our best interest for you to let me read it."
Silence.
Potter's feet could be heard as they padded across the old carpet. "You have to ask me first." Draco said, "you have to let me read the whole book first though, I want to read the whole book first." A nod was sent towards the blonde. They had come to an agreement, "And you have to let me smoke in the apartment."
A grin spread across Draco's face, while Potter looked simply outraged and shocked. "You have got to be kidding me… you'll trade off your mother's diary for cigarettes."
"Would you rather it be sex?"
"What!"
"Don't be a prude now." Potter's face contorted into something Draco couldn't decipher, but then he couldn't stand it anymore. He let out a muffled laugh and Potter threw a sofa cushion at him muttering something about Slytherin jerks trying to be funny.
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Author's note: I'm going back to Spain this summer (to see the family) and I'll be returning 6 weeks later, but in my house in Spain I do not have internet access, in turn I'll try to get another chapter out before then... If people wish to know when I'll be back or when the next chapter is posted after the six week period then I'll gladly inform you if you give me your email address.
