Drarry Oneshots

Save Me

"I can't do this," He drops his head into his hands and pulls his knees up closer to his body. I shuffle impossibly closer, feeling all of his uneven breaths.

"Can't do what?" I ask quietly, I gently set my hand on his knee closest to my own. He looks at my hand before answering me.

"Everything they want me to do, I can't kill. I don't want to. But if I don't they'll kill my mother, she's all I have left. Father, he well, he's so lost in the world that the Dark Lord wants. I can't do it." I can't help it, I throw my arms over his shoulders. At first he stiffens before he relaxes into me and I feel the ragged breaths.

"I don't want to kill him, I can't." He grips the fabric of my shirt like it's the only thing that's keeping him tied to the ground. I nod into his shoulder before tugging him closer. He leans his forehead on my shoulder and I can now feel the steady flow of tears flowing from his eyes. I feel my heart tugging and aching, I feel like I have to do something. "I'm on the wrong side, I don't want to be. I can't leave mother though, I need her. Sh-she's the only family that loves me, I-I c-can't l-lose her. I-I don't w-want t-to."

He hugs me tighter and I feel my heart flutter slightly. No matter how inappropriate the situation, I want to kiss him. To make him better, to take that frown and turn it into the brightest smile that's ever been seen on the face of this earth.

"Whatever I can do, I'll try and help you." I whisper petting his surprisingly soft hair and gently rubbing his back. He hiccups and pulls his knees so they're laying slightly in my lap. If anyone was to walk in right now they'd probably wonder why the two most infamous enemies were so intimately cuddled together on the bathroom floor.

"Thank you, Potter." He moves his head from the edge of my shoulder closer to the crook of my neck. Once he's comfortable I rest my head on his and fiddle with a stray strand of hair. His breathing seems to calm down and he sighs gently into the air. He moves his hands that are gingerly tucked under his chin and loosely wraps one around my shoulders overlapping his own and the other to mess with my fingers on my other hand.

"S-Sorry that I've been a huge prat to you since first year. I just never wanted to make Father upset. He-he wasn't as bad back then. He at least had a little bit of care left in him then. Now, he's too obsessed with the Dark Lord and blood status. Mother isn't like that, she's still my mother. Father, he's just going through the cycles. I can't leave it, because if I do my only thing keeping me going will be gone and it will be all my fault. I-I don't know what to do. I don't have anyone to save me." He softly threads his fingers through mine and I gently squeeze his hand back to let him know it's okay. He looks up at me before his eyes fall to the floor.

"Sorry, I'm probably making you uncomfortable. It's just. It's funny, you know? The only person I can talk to is my make-believe enemy. I don't hate you, Potter. Quite the opposite really. It's just easier to hate you, because then I won't be swamped by feelings and I won't-or I will at least try to not feel anything when it all comes crashing down. One side is going to fall, I don't know who, but either way, one of is will win the other will lose. It's, it's messed up, jumbled. It's just all hitting me now. I don't want to do this. I never did."

He looks at me with such a ferocity and with such a heartfelt look that I see myself leaning forward before I can comprehend and feel that I am moving. His eyes widen slightly before filling with such color. Brilliant greys and pale blues. I don't hesitate as he slowly leans in as well. It just feels...right. He stops millimetres from my lips and looks into my eyes, urging me to move forward. Maybe he's thinking I'll back out and laugh at him. I don't know, I don't care. It just takes that one second before my lips are gently brushing his soft ones back. His breathing hitches slightly and the hand that was messing with my fingers tightens it's grip. I can feel his eyelashes fluttering shut, the soft exhales through his nose. I don't know when these mutual feelings sprung about. But, I don't mind. I quite enjoy it actually. When did our mutual hatred become mutual likeness? When did I look at his mouth and not expect hateful things to come out and instead look at his lips and felt the desire to kiss a smile onto them? Maybe I won't never know, but I don't mind. All I care about in this moment is the way his lips feel pressed against mine. The soft way his hand is encasing mine and they way his arm tightens around my shoulders. I move my hand from its position on his collar messing with his hair to his waist. Feeling each little inhale and trying to remind myself to breathe and enjoy the warmth spreading throughout my face from his feather light kisses. I enjoy the way his warm lips feel against my own, the way he pulls away slightly before coming back and kissing me deeper. I enjoy the way he shifts his body so instead of sitting next to me he's lightly placed on my lap with my back pressing into the stone of the wall. His hand still holds mine and his arm still wraps around my shoulders. My hand tightens around his waist pulling him closer trying to deepen the kiss slightly and make him forget about the war that's coming, about Voldemort, about everything but the way our bodies meld against the curvature of the tiles and stone.