Looking Beyond The Lies (Drarry) (Boyxboy)

Chapter 24

Warning: there may be triggering moments at the end of the chapter, mentions of abuse throughout the chapter.

"Fuck you, you're wrong. Fuck you, we're right." - Hilltop Hoods, The Thirst Pt. 6.
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It had been but a few days, and Draco's mind was still floored by the proclamation of Harry's love. But what astounded him even more, was Harry's statement, about being there with him through thick and thin. Through his most treacherous days, and the times when every little thing broke in the back of his mind. Draco had cried, dozens of tears flowing down his cheeks. He yearned for Harry's love, to not be alone, to have someone understand when his best days weren't his best.

Now he no longer had to be alone, because Harry was there. The boy was his crutch, his eyes in the dark, his guiding hand in the rough times. And suddenly, Draco didn't know what he would do without him. Sometimes, the most difficult part was not seeing Harry through the day. His Harry, who had promised he would always be there. That Draco could trust him with anything, that he would never intentionally hurt the little blonde boy in his grasp, because he loved him so, so much.

Much as it was, Draco remembered Minerva, and her motherliness towards him. He smiled gently to himself, she would want to know. She deserves to know. Hurriedly, he stumbled away from his desk and to his coat rack, yanking off the one with the most warmth. A navy blue, insulated coat that had knitted cuffs at the end of his sleeves, and a fleece lined hood. He managed to pull on one sleeve before tumbling out the door in a mess. His hair was wild and fluffy on his head, so he reached back into his room to grab a black beanie off the rack, sliding it on over his head.

The blonde shuffled down the stairs from his room and into the common room. There were a few younger students lounging around, but he didn't lay attention to them. His eyes were focused on the portrait as he headed towards it, pushing it open. It swung, to reveal Ron on the other side. "Hey mate." He called, and Draco smiled blindly at his friend. He moved outside of the portrait, before bidding a greeting to Ron. Draco pivoted on his foot, and made to leave, but Ron's voice stopped him again. "Where are you going?"

It wasn't an accusing question. Ron had simply asked out of curiosity. He rarely ever saw his best friend anymore, and that saddened him a bit. He always wanted to make sure the blonde was okay, but never knew how to ask about it. He knew Draco faced several problems, and often times, he could see them looming over him like a bout of dark clouds. "I was just heading towards Minerva's office." Draco mumbled quietly, and Ron regarded him with gentle eyes. Something was up with him if he was seeing Minerva. He thought about the relationship between Draco and Minerva, and how she treated him like he was her own son. It always made Ron feel a little better that Draco had a motherly figure in his life.

"Do you mind if I walk you there?" He wanted Draco to be safe, maybe he could talk to him on the way, see why he rarely saw his best friend anymore. The blonde shook his head at Ron's offer and they set off. They walked through the grey stone corridors in silence, the only sound was the clacking of their footsteps, and even then, those were quiet. The chill in the air was cold enough to hide as much skin from it as possible. For their own sake, both boys were rugged up quite well, trying to achieve warmth under the extra layers of clothes.

"Are you okay?" Ron's out of the blue question startled Draco in the silence, but he didn't let it show. Was he okay? He thought so, for now at least. He hadn't been particularly off too much lately, and he supposed it was because of Harry's proclamation. That's probably what had kept him going these last few days.

Draco turned his face to Ron and showed him a small smile. "I am okay." He confirmed to himself, in an honest voice. Ron seemed to take his answer well, nodding along with him. The chill in the castle was still evident as they headed into the heart of it. The blonde took his hands out of his jacket pocket and looked at them, his small pale hands flexing in the cold. His small pale hands, that held the existence of his life. He thought about Harry's hands, and how they were big, tan and always warm. He thought about his small hands wrapped up in Harry's big ones, and he liked to a lot.