When the Snow Melts

Another Shooting Star

Draco was sinking further into murky water, his pale blond head swallowed up by the darkness. No matter how frantically Harry swam to reach him, the distance between them kept increasing. His lungs were protesting, begging him to take a breath, his vision growing dark, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated. Despite how much his tired body fought against him, he knew he couldn't stop, he had to keep pushing forward, had to save Draco.

He woke with a start, chest heaving as he took in as much air as he could manage. He turned to his side, needing the reassurance of Draco's warm body in his arms, but the space next to him was cold and empty. Dread trickled down his spine. He put his glasses on and scanned the room, panic nipping at his insides when he realized he was alone.

The Marauder's Map showed that Draco sitting atop the roof of the West Tower. Harry was torn - he wanted the comfort of Draco's strong arms, but it was clear that Draco needed his space. The fallout from the night before had hit them both hard. Draco seemed terrified to even look at him. They slept, not snuggled up in each other's arms, but with an awkward amount of distance between them. It was driving Harry insane.

His face took on a determined expression as he finally made up his mind. It was time that he confronted Draco and they got everything out in the open. With broom in hand, he made his way to the West Tower.

Despite his tear-soaked face and disheveled hair, Draco looked startlingly beautiful in the moonlight. Harry felt an ache in his heart as he approached. When Draco caught sight of him, he quickly wiped the tears from his face and cleared his throat so that his voice would come out steady.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, wounding Harry to the very core of his being. They were back to this, to not even being friends.

Harry landed on the roof and took a tentative step towards the boy. "I had a bad dream...and you were gone."

Draco studied him with mistrustful eyes. "I can't do this," he whispered.

Harry felt hot tears prick his eyes, his heart bleeding out in his chest as he began to sob. "Please," he begged. "I won't let it happen again. I'll keep better control of myself."

Draco had resumed crying, shaking his head against Harry's words. "It's not that," he cried. "It's - it's - everything just got so real. The connection - the prophecy - everything. I can't deal with it right now. I need some space."

With every fiber of his being, he desperately wanted to hold and be held by Draco. Nothing in his life had hurt worse than having to resist that urge.

"Okay," he whispered in defeat.

He stepped off the roof, the rush of cold night air making him grow comfortably numb as he plummeted, straddling his broom at the last possible second before taking off across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest. He flew in low over the treetops, screaming his agony into the howling winds, tears burning across his face.

His scar prickled and then exploded with pain which tore through him, his mind reeling and uncomprehending, his vision obscured. He crashed into a tree, the impact causing him to fall off his broom and plummet into the forest below, striking several branches on his way down. He was only vaguely aware, lost in the vision that Voldemort wished him to see.

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Lucius Malfoy was writhing in pain on the floor, his shoulder very obviously dislocated.

"Your son is sleeping with the enemy," he hissed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Narcissa cried out, "Please, stop this! He's not our son anymore."