An Uneventful Quidditch Match (drarry) (COMPLETED)

chapter seven

a/n
i literally rewrote this chapter three times to get it how i wanted it to be and i think i deserve some adknowledgement thank you very much
word count: 1307
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Draco looks down at he and Harry's connected hands. He is trying desperately to pay attention to what he saying, but his mind is swarming. His instincts are simply brimming, his nerves on edge, anxiety coursing through his blood like a river. Try as he might, he cannot escape these thoughts. Thoughts so disgusting in nature; the feel of them bouncing through his head is enough for the shame to rise, the touch of it coloring his face.

He looks at Harry, soaking in his every feature, and cannot stop, try as he might, the rush of suspicion rising beneath his skin, pushing, yearning to be heard. Luna's words have imprinted his mind, tainted his vision, but Draco knows it is more than that.

A part of him tugs for his attention, desperate and pleading, saying that Looney is not as Looney as predicted. That for once in her life she is undoubtedly right. It's argument is simple, easy to fight off, but there, oh so very there, nonetheless;

This Harry is not the boy I fell in love with.

But that thought is one he shoots down, because it feels almost traitorous in his mind. It leaves an inky black stain of guilt that he cannot wash off. Harry is Harry, he tells himself (or tries to), there is no one else he could be.

Again, with that rebuttal, Luna's words make themselves heard, reserved forever in his head and heart, forcing their way to the front of Draco's mind. To think Harry, Jackson, however, seems so disasterly wrong in a way that words cannot describe. It feels like stabbing your love in the back during a warm embrace, it tastes and feels and is betrayal.

It is the third week back that Draco no longer feels guilt for these speculations, because Looney's theory, againist all odds, is proven correct.

He is walking with Harry, side by side, alone. They are heading to the library for free period. A part of Draco wants to reach out and grasp Harry's hand in his, but it is only as heard as the other side of him, pleading him not to. His arms stay glued to his side.

Harry suddenly gasped, bringing Draco's attention to him. He blinks once, twice, before a grin breaks out on his face. Draco's first impression is that this Harry is different than the one he was walking with only a few moments before.

"Draco—" Harry breathes, his voice odd and wobbly, like he struggling to say anything at all. He reaches for Draco's face, as if to pull him in for a kiss (Draco sees Harry's hands shake, as if the simple action takes much more force than it should), but lets his arms fall down, as if he thought better of it. "D-Draco, it's Harry," he says then adds, as if Draco might be confused on what he's saying, "L... Luna—" he manages to sputter out, before his eyes flutter shut and open a moment later, a different, more dangerous aura surrounding him.

Draco takes a step back, his eyes wide and mind swirling. Harry smiles charmingly at him, "Don't be so afraid, love."

Draco simply shakes his head, taking another step back.

Harry frowns, stepping forward and grabbing onto Draco's wrist. Draco swiftly removes his wrist, narrowing his eyes at Harry. Harry tuts.

"Oh, come on, Dragon. You love me," Harry says, finishing the statement with a joyful laugh.

Draco eyed him- he looked the same. Same beautiful green eyes, ebony hair, and iconic lightning scar. He looked exactly like the boy he loved. Acted almost exactly like him, too.

But he was not Harry.

"I don't even know you!" Draco roared, hands clenching at his side. Harry blinked in surprise, and laughed wildly after a moment.

"Oh, my dear Dragon," Harry said once he stopped. His eyes opened and their emerald green was gone, replaced by a wild and cynical red. "I'm so sorry to say that's true."

Harry shifted, Draco screamed.

Harry's magic swept throughout the room. His magic, before surpressed, now ran freely; Harry (who is not Harry) cackled as the shift to his pure, unadultered power swam.

Luna was right, Draco's thinks fearfully, He was going to say Luna was right!

Draco pulled himself off the floor (he did not remember how he got there, but he is there nonetheless) and made to run and reach for his wand all at once, but a simple paralysis charm stopped both of those efforts.

Harry (Jackson, Malfoy reminded himself) tutted at him. "It's such a shame Harry told you. But I was going to kill you either way, and what better time than now?" Harry raised his wand, the killing curse on the tip of his tongue, but he freezes.

Draco struggles againist his bonds, his mind running a thousand, a million, miles a minute because he faced with a simple truth: He did not want to die. He had so much to do, to say, to accomplish, but he would never get to do any of it. He would die on this stupid fucking floor and he would do so alone, his Harry trapped behind the prison that is his body and is his mind.

No! Draco's mind screams, all parts of him finally in unison as he thinks this thought. No no!

I want to live!

Draco squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for a death he does not want and a passing on that he may deserve but does not want. He opens his eyes after a moment, because the curse does not come, and he is, to his knowledge, still alive. He meets Harry's eyes.

There is a battle, Draco realizes with no small amount of awe, for control going on behind those beautiful eyes, which are shifting from red to green at a pace Draco cannot keep up with. The battle ends, green is the clear winner. He mutters a spell, though it is not the killing curse.

Draco is released from his bonds, and scrambles up. Harry (the real Harry) grabs his face, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, before ushering him forward, motioning for him to leave.

There is so much Draco wants to say. A million things he should, but none of them he will. He runs off, leaving Harry to battle Jackson alone. A battle he should not have to fight.

Draco knows that he is different from Luna; Jackson let her live because no one would believe her, but everyone would believe him. He knows Harry best; he is a rich pureblood, even if his reputation is somewhat tainted from the war, he would be, without a doubt, believed.

He becomes resolved not to let anyone go off alone with Harry, to make everyone, willingly or not, move in packs around Jackson. He is dangerous. If someone finds him out that will be believed, he will kill them. Draco knows this, and the unfamiliar urgue to protect overcomes him. This, he decides, is what Harry much feel like all the time.

He does not like Luna, but sometimes, he decides, you don't have to like someone to get along. He makes plans to reach out to her; there is much to discuss.

∆¶∆

Draco opens the small drawer on his nightstand, expecting nothing out of the ordinary, and is ready to place his wand away. He is surprised, struck frozen with feat, when the small, yellow book he kept stowed in the drawer in nowhere to he seen. He drops to his knees, casting a lumos and searching under the bed, under the nightstand, everywhere. He checks, then double-checks, but eventually sinks to his knees in defeat.

The book, made and warded by the dark wizard Jackson Smith, is gone, and Draco has no idea where it is.