A/N: I'm not sure I can keep up these slightly random yet all sort of relating to the story messages up. Especially after this chapter. The last three get pretty tense... I don't want to ruin the mood... -pause- yep, so unless a review makes me do otherwise, I shall probably not speak again until the end of the last chapter.... Nice talking to you all... if you read this to begin with. Heh.
Chapter 6 - The Undeniable Truth
Harry checked the clock. It was a little after ten in the morning. Draco would have to be at work by 12:30. The grace of Draco's clock, however, was that it didn't chime. It was a simple wall clock. Draco could oversleep easily. Harry's gaze drifted over the blonde. He hadn't changed his clothes at all. He'd simply laid down and fallen asleep, half under the covers. Polly had come in shortly after and fixed the blanket to completely cover him from the mid-chest down. Harry... Harry had come in seconds after Polly.
Now he sat, watching Draco dream. Draco's breathing never faltered in rhythm, even when his face changed expression. The steady rise and fall of his chest brought tears to Harry's eyes, but he didn't let them fall. Harry sat against the wall, his knee pulled up and hugged. Whenever he felt a tear trying to break free, he pressed his eye into his knee to stop it. No, he could not cry. This was not a trip back in time to cry over Draco's soon-to-be death.... this was a mission to stop the death altogether so there would be no need for tears at all.
As the clock's secondhand ticked on, Harry kept wondering how he could save Draco from his untimely death. Hexing a dragon into submission took ten skilled wizards when it came to a Hungarian Horntail... and this one was mixed with a Chinese Fireball. Could two extremely skilled aurors pull it off? Harry highly doubted it.
Harry's attention drifted over Draco's form on the bed. He watched as the blonde rolled onto his side and the covers fell off of him about an inch. Now he could see Draco's face in full, save for the slight bit covered by the pillow. Draco's blonde locks fell into his face but did not cover it. It was a cute touch, and Harry admired it. Draco looked like... like a hammock strung between two palm trees during a sunset. He looked peaceful and perfect: The way his hair was mussed from his rolling, the way his shirt was wrinkled and pulling down slightly on the right shoulder, the way his mouth stayed shut in a indifferent line until something in his dream made those slight lips part ever so much for a few brief, beautiful moments.
Harry found himself kneeling by the bed. He knew better than to try anything. Draco would feel it and wake. Then everything would be obvious and ruined. Still... those pictures.... Perhaps Draco wouldn't mind finding out Harry loved him, ached for him,... cried for him. Maybe Draco would understand the way Harry's heart had burst when he'd heard the news and seen the corpse... Maybe Draco would accept him and his painful love.
No. Even if Draco felt the same way, Draco couldn't know. If he knew Harry loved him, he'd put two and two together. He'd know Harry came back to save him... and he'd refuse Harry's help. He would push Harry's hand away and say it would never happen to him. Then Draco would go alone... and Draco would die.... again. But Harry wasn't going to let that happen... so Draco couldn't know. He couldn't find out....because that's what he'd do. Right?
Harry sat with his back to the bed and his knees pulled up. He leaned his head on his knees and took deep breaths. His eyes were filling up again, but he wasn't going to cry! He hadn't cried when Sirius died. He hadn't cried when Hedwig died... though he'd wanted to. He hadn't cried so many tears as he cried for Draco ever before. He'd never hurt so bad.... but that meant Harry had the ability to stop the tears. He had the concentration capable of putting off the sadness until a more proper moment... when the goal was over.
"Harry...," a soft voice broke through Harry attempts to hold back his tears. The tears froze and retreated. That was Draco's voice. Harry glanced over his shoulder. Draco's eyes were closed, but he'd definitely heard him say something, loud and clear with no hint of sleep.
"Yeah?" Harry asked back in a whisper.
"When people use time turners... aren't they just doing things that already happened?" Draco asked, his body not moving, not even his breath making sound.
Harry swallowed the lump that rose to his throat. He nodded his had, though Draco wasn't looking, and choked out a "Y-Yeah."
"But that doesn't mean things can't change," Harry declared in his whisper. In a whisper, it would be harder for Draco to hear the way this truth hurt him.
"Things have already changed, because you came back in time. But those things have already happened in your time...," Draco pointed out gently. Here he paused to let Harry see where this was going, to let it sink it. "Harry I don't think you can save your important person. It just goes against everything... doesn't it?" Draco asked, voice becoming matter-of-fact.
Harry shook his head wildly. "No," he grunted out, losing the whisper for that one word. "No. It will change. It has to change. It wasn't supposed to happen like that."
Oh no... the tears.
"Harry, listen to reason. You can't let yourself mourn someone who dies forever. You have to let yourself get over it. If you mourned every person in your life who has died... Harry, you'd fall apart at the seams," Draco tried. The tone in his voice showed Harry that Draco just wanted to help... and Harry had to admit that, yes, mourning the tons of people who had died on him would tear him to shreds. But this was different!
"No, you don't understand. This one's different. This one wasn't supposed to die!" Harry exclaimed, losing the whisper. He felt them running down his cheeks, slow but real.
Draco shoved himself up to a sitting position at the way Harry's voice had risen. He stared at the back of Harry's head and wondered... what was so special about this person... this one person...
"You... You loved them, didn't you?" Draco asked, and Harry missed the way Draco's voice peeked due to his determination to block out Draco's previous statements.
"Yeah..." Harry nodded slowly. "More than... I've ever loved anyone."
The room was silent for a time. Draco didn't move his position on the bed, and the sheets didn't shift or fall. Harry held so tightly to his legs that he feared they might break off. Then Harry leaned his head down and wiped his tears away with his pants. Still, no words were spoken. It seemed they were both trying to calm down some inner turmoil and had yet to find the words to express themselves in this situation.
When Harry was certain his heart would not explode when he spoke, he loosened his grip on his legs and pushed himself up off the floor and away from the bed. He dusted off invisible dirt and took a deep breath.
"They're not going to die, Draco. I'm not going to let them," he declared softly but determinedly.
"Harry-," Draco tried to speak again, but Harry interrupted him.
"You have work in about two hours. You should get some more sleep. I'll stop bugging you about all this. Sorry if I woke you," the brunette apologized. Then, without a word, he walked to the door and left Draco alone in his dark room.
Out in the kitchen, Harry sat on the counter. Polly had brought him a cup of Mandragora Root Tea, which Harry was beginning to find he fancied. The warmth of the cup felt great on his somehow cold hands. Cold like....like Draco's hands after he died. Harry shook his head.
It wouldn't happen. No matter what Draco said, it wouldn't happen... but maybe it would be best if he stopped shadowing Draco. Maybe he should just hang around Draco's office until the blonde came in for work and got the job about the dragon. That would be easier... that would be less painful, wouldn't it?
Harry closed his eyes and just waited. He cleared his mind and thought of absolutely nothing, the way Snape had taught him to do... sort of. The warmth of the glass seemed to fade as his hands warmed up to a normal temperature. He liked this temperature more.
Draco's bedroom door opened, but he wasn't sure if that meant Polly had gone in or Draco had come out. He'd left Draco in there, alone, about half an hour ago... perhaps Draco was done sleeping or uh... trying to sleep. Whatever the case may be after their slightly heated conversation.
"Harry," Draco's voice broke the silence of the kitchen. Harry opened his eyes and locked gazes with the blonde, showing no signs that he was depressed.
"Yeah?" he asked, keeping his voice light and normal. Draco frowned.
"You don't have to play that card, you know. I don't care if you're depressed or crazy or trying to disrupt the space/time continuum... which you are, by the way. You're all three," Draco said, his voice harsh with a tint of anger. "I already told you I hate it when you lie to me, so why? Huh? Tell me why you insist on pretending you're peachy when I know damn well you're not!"
Harry was shocked. Draco was genuinely angry with him... and not for being depressed to the point of being crazy, but for... lying? For trying to keep the mood up from what it had been before?
"I'm not -," he began, but Draco cut him off.
"Stop it! God dammit, Potter! I know you were crying! I know you're upset! Stop acting like the poster boy of the emotionally indifferent!" the youngest Malfoy exclaimed.
Harry was silent for a time. Then he frowned. Draco was breathing heavily. Even when Harry tried not to put his pressures on Draco, he was upsetting him.
"Why do you care so much, Draco?" Harry asked. His eyebrows knit together in a mixture of confusion and anger as to why Draco couldn't just accept the fact that Harry didn't want to focus on the depressing parts of what he was doing.
Draco laced his fingers together and held so tightly that Harry could almost see his veins. Draco turned from Harry and dropped his hands. He groaned out in anger, but it didn't seem entirely directed at Harry.
"Because, Potter! I want to help you with saving this person! I reeeaaally do! But-... but I don't," he explained, loudly and unhelpfully. "I don't want to help because a part of me doesn't want them to survive!"
Harry's eyes opened wide in shock. He gripped his cup tightly. What the hell was Draco saying? How could he be so cruel?!
"I don't want them to survive... because you love them," Draco ended, his voice drained back to a normal decibel and his tone losing anger. He turned back to face Harry, a pathetic look on his face.
Harry couldn't stop himself. He smacked his cup down on the counter, tea flying out. He pushed himself off the counter and onto the floor, standing as tall as he could, which was about an inch taller than Draco. He glared fiercely at the blonde, anger bubbling up from his sadness, his depression, and his surprise at Draco's callous words.
"Excuse me?" he growled. "Because I love them, they deserve to die? Is that it? Do you honestly hate the idea of me loving someone so much that they need to die?! God, if you hate me so much, Malfoy, why do you even bother being around me?!"
Draco took a half step back, shock on his features. Then he shook his head and closed the distance between himself and Harry in less than a second.
"No!" he exclaimed. He pressed Harry up against the counter and held onto the marble with one hand. His other hand grabbed the back of Harry's head and held it tight while lips crashed into lips in a desperate attempt to convey emotions.
Harry was stunned. His hands, poised ready to shove Draco away, hung in mid-air and shook. He wanted to cry again, but this time he didn't know why. He held them back, as he was doing with all the rest. His hands slowly fell back and held the counter for support. Draco pulled back from the forced kiss and stared Harry right in the eyes.
Harry saw fear there. Draco was scared because Harry hadn't responded. Harry couldn't respond. Then Draco took a shaky breath.
"I don't want them to exist, because I love you too."
Preview: Chapter 7 - The Trouble with Reasons
Harry let out a slow breath, relaxing. He knew there was a reason he'd told George about his interest in Draco; a reason he liked the red haired twin so much.
The bowls that had been on the counter, the pots and pans, the tea kettle, the tea bags, everything was on the floor. Harry lifted his feet and saw he was standing on the remnants of the cup he'd been drinking out of. The cushions of the sofa and chair in the livingroom were shredded in a similar fashion to how Draco had been sliced up in the bathroom during their sixth year at school. A deep gash ran for two feet along the wall near the middle of the hall.
Every beat of the brunette's heart was a struggle to stay in rhythm. Harry felt a moment of dizziness that passed as quickly as it had come. He tried to focus on Draco...