Dare Me

Eighth

Draco stood still.

Not still like a statue; or even like ice.

He stood like a butterfly; light, silent, nervous, and beautiful.

Picking up the Blueberry Bliss wrapper, Draco made his way to Harry as if approaching an emotionally unstable teenager. What scared Harry was that that description was accurate. The Boy Who Lived was not allowed to be "Just a teenager".

He was never Just A Teenager.

He was the one who saved everyone. Who will save everyone. Yet with every day that passed with Harry doing nothing, simply learning Quittitch, a child was murdered, someone else was brought to the "Dark Side".

Harry had the world on his shoulders, and he was afraid he wasn't strong enough to hold it. One day, when he was looking away, it would fall around him and break.

Shattered like a glass ball.

As Draco approached, Harry violently scrubbed at his eyes, uneven breaths escaping his mouth loudly in the quiet. Draco didn't say anything; he only knelt by Harry's side and gathered him up into his arms. Draco put his chin on Harry's head and said nothing, and Harry didn't say anything, either. Until he did, and it was one word.

"Why?" His voice was hoarse, and he didn't quite know which "Why?" He was asking for. Why did he whisper with Hermionie? Why was he hugging Harry? Why did Draco kiss him? Why why why why why why why why?

"Harry, I would never try to do anything to try to make you feel this awful. I know it's because of me, and I feel so awful." Those were the words Draco whispered into Harry's messy black hair, and then- "I'm sorry."

Sorry?

What could he be possibly sorry for-

Oh, yes.... Making Harry cry in the middle of a deserted hallway. Making Harry feel like shit. Making Harry's friends feel like shit.

"Fuck you." Is what Harry wanted to say. But what he did say was nothing.

Harry didn't want to ruin anything more than he already had.

So he sat there in Draco's arms. Everything wanting to be perfect but missing one thing. Like a puzzle with one bent piece just trying to be like the others. Eventually the tears subsided and the ragged breaths became calm.

Draco kissed Harry on the forehead with the empty disguise of an invisible mask. "I'm so sorry. I love you, Harry. Goodnight."

As his footsteps faded, the sadness reared its ugly head.

Harry was left in the corridor with the dog-eared book that he clutched to his chest as it became a tearstained journal of what could've been if he wasn't The Boy Who Lived.

Only a boy.

Harry left the book with crumpled pages and he went into the Gryffindor common room and didn't bother closing the curtains of his bed as he crawled beneath the sheets.

His eyes were red and puffy in the morning, and finally Hermionie noticed.

"Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head. He wasn't in the mood for lying.

(Wow depress increases x100)