Draco lay in his bed, his heart pounding, sleep practically nonexistent. It was 2 in the morning, the day that the Order was moving Harry to a safe house. His 17th birthday. He'd only known due to the fact he was forced to go to the horrid meetings the Dark Lord called upon. They were terrible. Most of them included plots on how to kill Harry, which made Draco's stomach twist and turn inside out, his throat close up, and eyes sting with tears.
Throughout those meetings Draco would be asked questions about Harry and his weaknesses, which in Draco's eyes there were none, but he would lie anyway, saying he was very deceived and trusts people too easily. Things that would go along with his so called "plan to seduce Potter."
If they caught Harry tonight, the Draco would have to watch over him in the cellar, a job he didn't think he could handle, for watchmen of the dungeon would have to torture their victims, but at the same time Draco wished he could do it so that one of the other Death Eaters couldn't bring pain upon him.
He just prayed that Harry wouldn't get caught.
There was a knock at the door and Draco sat up immediately. He'd been waiting for this. If Harry was caught, it would be Greyback, telling him to report to the dungeon and watch the captured. If it was his mother, everything was okay.
The handle took an eternity to turn as the door revealed Narcissa Malfoy in an all black cloak. Draco stood and ran to his mother, burying his face in her chest. She wrapped her arms around her only son and stroked his back.
"Please tell me he's okay," Draco mumbled in her neck. Narcissa closed the door behind her and shh-ed him. She pulled away and grabbed Draco's cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eyes.
"The good news is that we didn't catch him. However The Order was smart. They made decoys out of him. I'm sure the used polyjuice potion so that the Dark Lord didn't know which one was him. That's the problem. We don't know which Harry was the real one, so they attacked them all. A few of them got hurt very badly, but none the less there were no Potter casualties."
Draco just shook his head, and was about to say something, but there was a loud bang downstairs which interrupted their thought process.
"That must be the Dark Lord. He must be furious. Stay here get some sleep. I promise everything will be alright...someday." She kissed his forehead and left the room quickly. Draco was about the follow her when he heard his door lock, probably a precaution his mother wanted on him.
Thousands of scenarios filled Draco's mind. Which hexes did they use? Did they hit the real Harry?
He had to know.
He sprinted to his desk, almost spilling over his ink in the process, and began to write.
Dear Harry,
I understand you absolutely hate my guts right now, but I need to know if you're okay, if you're safe. I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, to us, but it did. Despite everything I've put you through I just need you to know that I really do care for you. Maybe one day we can work this out, maybe one day you'll understand. Just know I'll be waiting for that day.
Happy birthday.
D
He opened his window and put a treat on the sill, waiting for his owl to fly to him. The night brought in cold air and a musky smell that reminded him of the forest he and Harry use to meet up in. He began to think about all the times they shared together, exchanging gifts, kissing, holding each other, sleeping even. The laughs, the smiles all flooded back to him, but a fluttering of wings knocked him out of his trance.
The bird swallowed the treat and awaited instructions.
"Bring this to Harry Potter. Avoid being seen at all costs, drop off the letter, then come straight here."
And with that, the owl flew off into the night, leaving Draco hoping that Harry was safe.
——————————————-
Harry was just fixing his collar, ready to put on his bow tie when there was a rapping at his window. He opened it to find a black owl drop a letter on the floor before him, and fly away without a thought. He stared at the envelope, bewildered. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to find that neat, cursive handwriting that he knew all too well.
Anger flowed through each and every single vein in his body. He crumpled it up and threw the paper across the room which coincidently bounced back and landed right in the doorway. He yelled in frustration and took a pillow and launched it at the wall. He then picked it up and plopped it on the bed, where he then dived face-first into the pile of feathers and shouted profanities.
There was a soft knock on the door and Harry got up from his lingering tantrum to find Hermione with the ball of paper placed between her fingers. She shut the door behind her with a concerned look on her face.
"Are you okay?"
"No I'm not Hermione, okay! He sent me a letter! That bastard sent me a letter! He has the nerve to send me a damn letter!"
"What did it say?"
"I don't know! And I don't care! He's making this so hard on me. I'm trying to forget him and he's making it physically impossible!"
"Maybe you should read-"
"No I shouldn't! He's just trying to... He's trying to capture me, something. Hurt me. Lie to me again. He me to come to him, have a laugh with his Death Eater friends."
"Maybe he's not laughing. Maybe he is genuinely concerned about you," Hermione said while skimming the words on the crumpled letter.
"Hermione, all the Death Eaters know! I'm sure You-Know-Who does, too! I'm just a laughing stock to them. 'A lost puppy.' And now watch, he's gonna try and lure me in again just so I can fall for him and hell, he'll wanna meet me somewhere and then he'll capture me and send him to his precious Dark Lord."
"Or maybe he does care about you. Have you ever thought about that?"
"No. He doesn't. Hermione, he's a Death Eater," he growled, the face of Draco's arm biting at him. "Why are you siding with him?"
"I'm not siding with anyone, Harry. I'm just saying that I've never seen you or him happier then when you were together."
"That's the point! He played it off well!"
"You two seemed to be getting better. Well, you did at least. You weren't as angry at him as you were at first. That day, when Ginny kissed you... you saw him in pain."
"God damn it, Hermione," he balled his hand in a fist. It was shaking. Harry couldn't stand the pain he felt.
"You're angry. You're angry this had to happen to you. I get that you wanted to be normal with him, but that's not how it was. Surely you can't be that blind-sided."
"He made me a promise and he broke it. He hurt me. I hurt him. That's how it went. Why can't he just leave me alone!?"
"Maybe he's clinging onto hope. Maybe he needs you."
Just then Ron walked in, a confused look on his face.
"What's with all the shouting, is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine, Ron. Can you go out into the garden and get me 14 tulips to put on the tables. Your mother wanted me to ask you," Hermione improvised.
"Not the tulips! They are all the way in the back!"
"Then you might as well get a move on. It starts in an hour."
"Yeah.. Right," Ron said before running out the door. Hermione turned back to Harry.
"You need to tell him," she said quietly.
"No Hermione! There is no way in hell he'd ever look me in the eye again!"
"He is your best friend, Harry. He has a right to know."
"No absolutely not! His family and the Malfoys hate each other more than the Dursleys hated me!"
"At least tell him you're gay."
Harry went silent for a little bit, his voice smaller than before. Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "You don think he'd be mad at me?"
"No. I think he'd prefer to hear it from you. At least voluntarily you can control what your saying. What if someone told him that you dated Draco? At least if you told him you were gay then it might be easier to hear."
Harry out his head in his hands then pretended to rub his imaginary facial hair which he shaved away.
"You're right....I'll tell him after the wedding."
"Good! Now let's get down stairs and help set up! I need to go find Ron and tell him we don't need those tulips," she laughed and Harry smiled.
And to his ignorance Hermione placed the balled up paper into her purse.
————————————-
The wedding was hectic along with the aftermath. After the Death Eater attack, the trio found themselves at Grimmuald Place waiting for Kreacher and Dobby to return with Mundungus.
Harry's hands were sweaty and his heart beat fast and hard. He was gonna tell Ron. He had to.
Oh come on, let's face it, he would rather battle death eaters than tell his best friend his only secret. But that's the thing, it was the only secret Ron didn't know.
Harry was standing in the hallway while Ron was in the kitchen. he took a deep breath and as he did so, Hermione walked up to him.
"You can do this, Harry. I believe in you. he's your best friend, you'll be fine. I promise."
Harry nodded and with heavy footsteps, went into the kitchen and sat across from Ron.
"Hiya mate," he said while munching on a piece of stale toffee he found in the cupboard.
"Hi," Harry replied nervously, "Ron there's something I need to tell you."
"Okay, what is it?" His tone was playful.
"It's something rather serious. something I've been meaning to say for a long time."
Ron nodded his head, "go on."
"And I can trust you? You'll support me?"
"Of course, I'm only your best mate, Harry."
"Okay," Harry said with a deep breath, "Er... I guess I'm just going to just say it. I'm gay," he said slowly. His face burned so he spoke quickly, begging for this moment of his life to be over with. "As in I like boys. like I'm romantically attracted to them-"
"I know what it means."
"And that's not to say that I'm into you, but--well, I mean your dashing, but definitely not."
"Of course you're not into me... why would you be?"
"I just... some people get weirded out and uncomfortable and think that--"
"Who?"
"Muggles, I guess. I dunno, I haven't really... told anyone. I wasn't sure what to expect. If I told the Dursley's... It's just be another reason for them to hate me."
"That's sad. I didn't know muggles are like that. Remind me not to tell my dad, he'd be crushed to know that about them."
"Not all of them," Harry clarified. "But the ones I've been around... yeah." He swallowed. "So you're not angry."
"Why would I be angry? There's nothing wrong with you being gay. I'm happy for you. I thought you were into Ginny. You might want to tell her, she has a big crush on you."
"Yeah, I need to talk to her about it. I led her on. I'm sorry I used her to experiment..."
"Tell her that, not me. It's not your fault. She won't hate you either. I hope, and she will too, you find a man that will make you very happy," Ron said.
"If I don't get murdered before then," Harry laughed.
Ron let out a chuckle. "Did you ever like someone back at Hogwarts?"
"Erm well yeah, I did, actually--"
"So that was your girlfriend! I knew there was something fishy about it. You never wanted to talk about her in detail. Now I know why, because he wasn't a girl."
"Err-- yeah... I'm sorry I lied about it," Harry said with a frown. "I shouldn't have, I was just so scared that you'd hate me--"
"Hate you? I could never hate you," Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "You're my best friend."
"But I'm gay."
"So? It's not like you've murdered anyone. It's not like you've tortured anyone, done an unforgivable. You've never harmed anyone. You're a great man, Harry. Gay or not gay. It doesn't matter. Your sexuality could never affect our friendship. Now come on, mate, tell me who the lucky guy is."
"I--," Harry started, but the swell in the back of his throat kept him from it. Draco Malfoy, the motherfucker. "It's kind of a long story."
Ron could tell Harry was in pain. "You don't have to tell me what happened right now. Did it end bad?" Harry nodded, staring at the floor. He swallowed heavily. "Okay, mate, just tell me when you're ready," Ron pat his shoulder and relief flooded over Harry like the first wave of a tsunami. "I'll always be here for you."
——————————————————
Draco had gone into a deep depression. He wasn't needed by the Dark Lord at the moment, and hadn't been for a while. At least whenever he was on a mission to capture someone, he would forget. Just for a little while.
At the moment he was curled up in a ball on his bed, a place he had grown attached to since it was the only place in the house where he was somewhat safe. Somewhat.
He'd seen enough death and tortures across the house to make him sick to his stomach. To make his home, a house, not a home.
Draco was playing with he chain on his neck, something he refused to take off. The room was dead silent and all he could hear was the ticking of the Malfoy pocket watch which was located on the night stand.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The second hand kept inching forward until another minute passed, and another. It sprouted Draco's curiously as to what time it was. It had to be late, for the moon was shining high in the sky.
He rolled over and picked up the small trinket. The glass covering the clock itself was cracked down the middle of when Harry threw it down. He could barley see the hands however in the only place that wasn't cracked, was right over the dial on the clock face. Just as the stroke of midnight rang, the number changed from 999 to 1000.
He remembered when he and Harry were confused as to why the dial was there in the first place, and then they connected it to the day of their first date. But if it was based off of how long they dated, the counter should have stopped ages ago right?
And that's when it hit him.
He ran to his desk and slammed the quill into the ink so hard that drops splashed everywhere. He had to tell Harry.
He was mid-letter when he heard something slid under his door, causing him to jump. Footsteps led away from the door and he found it safe to get up and see what it was.
A newspaper.
The Daily Prophet was bent and messy, but he could still read the headline printed across the paper:
Potter Gone Wild: The Golden Trio Breaks into Ministry
On this afternoon on August 31st, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger broke into the Ministry of Magic to the ministers ignorance, under poly juice potion of 3 different ministry workers. During said unexpected visit, Potter had stolen a locket of Dolores Jane Umbridge. The attack on the Umbridge was hostile and the attacker, Potter, hexed her unconscious.
Draco smiled to himself. And whispered into thin air, "Bet you loved that."
He skipped to the last paragraph.
This leaves the world wondering if Harry Potter and his friends will be returning to Hogwarts, where Severus Snape will be crowned Head Master. 'I don't wish to see him back at school,' said Snape, 'he is wanted by he ministry and I highly doubt on his return.'
Draco froze. Harry, not at Hogwarts? He'd have to face 7th year alone? Draco was hoping to make it up to him this year. His elaborate plan, Seduce Potter 3.0, rested on his desk, constructed cautiously. He frowned.
What hurt was that he had to go back to Hogwarts and face the term, knowing he might never see Harry again, unless he would be in the arms of the Dark Lord.
And that was scary enough as it was.
——————————————-
The seasons evidently changed and a biting cold made inside the tent look much more appetizing than the outside.
After one of the many guard duties Harry endured whilst in hiding, Harry walked in to find Ron staring at him with a look of sick dissatisfaction, his good arm held forward with his finger pointing at him accusingly. "I know who you dated," his voice was a growl.
Immediately, Harry's nerves set on fire. He gulped. How did Ron find out? Did one of the pictures with Draco fall out of Draco's diary— did Ron find Draco's diary? Did he read it?
Or maybe it was his stuffed snake that gave it away! He'd only slept with it a few times, and made sure it stayed well hidden under his blankets.
"Do you now," Harry asked shakily.
"Zacharias Smith!"
"What?"
"It makes sense," Ron continued, Harry completely caught off guard. "You didn't want to tell me because you know I think he's a prat."
"Er..."
"Oh, Harry," he relaxed at Harry's stuck face, nearly laughing. "I can't believe it. Zacharias Smith! Of all the people, I should have seen it sooner. It's all coming together. Of course, no one would know because you two pretended to hate each other. It's brilliant, Harry, really. You had us all fooled, no one found out! And no one would have suspected a thing. Not even me or Hermione."
Harry, who was still obviously confused, glanced at Hermione, who was getting ready to go outside for her shift. "Er, Ron."
"You don't need to panic. He was a prat, but if you saw something in him, it's fine. At least he was in the DA and everything. That's why he joined, so you two could have some one-on-one lessons afterwards."
Harry's eyes widened. Hermione had to leave the tent, and Harry imagined her laughing.
"I wish you would have told me though. Oh, and Ginny, too. You know how she hexed him last year and all that. But then again, it would have blown your cover."
"Gross, Ron," Harry finally said.
"Gross?"
"I definitely didn't have one-on-one time with Zacharias Smith!"
"You didn't?"
"God no."
Ron sat down on the edge of his bed, though instead of confused, his face relaxed. "That's a relief. I really hate the prat."
"Yeah, me too." Half of Harry wanted to laugh at the irony, and the other half made him want to scream.
"Could you imagine snogging him?"
"I don't want to," Harry said.
"So was it a Hufflepuff? It couldn't have been a Gryffindor, it would have been too easy to tell. Hm. Or a Ravenclaw, but I couldn't really see you with a Ravenclaw. So definitely not Gryffindor, definitely not Slytherin. It'd have to be one of the other two."
"Er... I don't really feel comfortable telling you now... still," Harry said awkwardly. "I'm sorry."
Ron lay back on his bed. "It's fine. But I'll find out eventually. There are only so many blokes in a school."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said, making sure his stuffed snake was well hidden in his trunk for the night.
-------------------------------------
Going to class was hard enough on it's own.
The mornings would start out with a ice cold shower just to wake himself up, and then he'd usually skip breakfast to lay back in bed, which was already a horrible idea because getting back out was always so much harder.
Professor Slughorn's lessons usually consisted of poisons, which Draco already knew about, but relearning them was better than going out on missions and using them on people.
But sometimes, every other week, Alecto Carrow would come into the room. "I need Malfoy."
Professor Slughorn didn't say anything, just gulped and nodded, and Draco's stomach already turned over.
The walk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was long, awkward, and sickening. Any time Alecto Carrow saw someone in the hall, she'd hiss, and sometime hex them. If Draco didn't take the next student, he knew he'd get his own, so he hexed a small Ravenclaw who fell on the floor, crying.
He always debated whether or not these calls were better than when he went on missions for the Dark Lord. Either way, he had to hurt people, break the law. But at least out there, he moreso watched the torture of people instead of did it himself. And he hadn't had the order to kill anyone yet.
Funny how that was the only thing that could make him feel a slight bit of happiness nowadays. That and the Mirror of Erised, where he could watch himself and Harry be in love with each other for hours on end—though, that didn't really work out at the end because after Draco finished doing what he wanted to do, the hollowness and anger replaced the pleasure.
If he dared to, he wondered what Harry would think of him, but he knew that he didn't have to think long, because Harry would be so absolutely disgusted he surely would never talk to him again.
It was a good thing they obviously weren't on speaking terms.
When they got inside the classroom, all the students cringed, and at the front, with Amycus Carrow's fist holding his robes, a first year had tears falling down his face and was shaking.
"The same as last time," Draco asked, monotonous, raising his wand.
The Carrow's nodded, and after they were pleased of him, after the screams were loud enough, he was dismissed.
Rather than going back to potions, he curtailed to the second floor girl's bathroom bathroom where he picked his usual stall and proceeded to vomit anything left in his stomach.
--------------------------------------
Anger. So much anger. Irritation and hate filled his veins as the chains of the locket beat down on Harry's neck. He couldn't take anymore of that damn radio, so he went outside to get some fresh air in hope to ease the gnawing buzz, but alas it almost seemed to increase it.
But what was truly aggravating was the envelope sitting next to him, mocking him. He looked up into the moonlight to see the last flutter of the black owl take off once more. It had been the 12th letter this month. They were practically coming every day, or every other day, and it was driving Harry mad.
He hadn't opened one, not one. He was too afraid, of what, he didn't know. It still flabbergasted him on how the owl had even found him, how it penetrated their protection charms, how the dark magic hadn't exploded in the shield. From that point on, he grew frustrated. His pain was flowing out of him and he didn't hear footsteps behind him.
"Take it off," the girly voice said forcefully. Harry didn't listen, he just sent daggers to the letters, hoping his eyes would slice through them. "Harry, I said take it off! It's making everything harder on you!"
"No, I deserve it... I was so stupid... He could never love some gullible disgusting loser like me. Nobody can."
"Harry James Potter, if you do not take it off right now-"
"No!" He held it to him. Why, he didn't know. The anger was addictive, like a drug, like alcohol, like Draco.
Hermione knocked him on his back, holding his hands to the ground with her left forearm, grabbing the necklace off of Harry despite his wrestling. Once the locket was away from him he instantly relaxed but a look of worry and despair.
"Better?"
"Yeah," he said breathlessly, "now give it back!" He flipped her over and grabbed the chain, attempting to get up and sprint, alas Hermione latched onto his ankle and kicked the chain out of his grasp.
"Why are you so obsessed with that thing?"
"Because I am! Okay?"
"No, not okay. Me and Ron are worried sick about you! You need to stay away from it."
Harry took a deep breath a sat up, and Hermione mirrored him and stated wiping off dead leaves from her sweater.
"Hermione, you don't understand," he said shaking, tears springing to his eyes, "I-eh-every time i look at those letters I want to forgive him and I'm so scared that if I read one of them I'll fall in love with him all over again and I know that's wrong. He betrayed me, Hermione. He did it voluntarily, but yet I still find myself scared to death that he's with you-know-who and despite how much a hate him, If he gets hurt I know I couldn't handle it. I fell I love with a man that doesn't exist, an imaginary person, yet I can't let myself get over it! That's why..because it blocks out all this," he pointed to his heart," and it lets me be angry so maybe I can get over him!"
She scooted next to him and he buried his head onto her shoulder and violently sobbed. Hermione pulled Harry close and hugged him for a bit.
"You need to read the letters." He looked up into her eyes and she read the vulnerability, the innocence in his eyes. He just wanted to love and to be loved, and now he was stabbed with hate because of it.
"No, I can't handle it Hermione. I just can't. This is too hard, it hurts too much."
"Harry, it's your first love, your first break up... Of course it's going to hurt."
"I don't want it to," he whined like a 13 year old boy.
"I know. Come to me when you want to talk about it," Hermione said softly. "And no touching this!" She grabbed the locket and went back inside the tent to be with Ron, something Harry wished he could do with Draco.
So he began walking.
———————————
Draco lay in bed, concealed in Harry's Gryffindor hoodie. He had his own room in result of Death Eaters taking over the school. He always thought that he'd be Head Boy one day, but not like this. Draco knew he didn't deserve it. It was bollocks and fake.
His room, filled with a king bed with black blankets and bright pillows, all silk and soft and nice, was double the size of his old room. But it wasn't warm. It wasn't home. His home was missing. Gone. Who knew where his home was, because he sure as hell didn't. Was his home even alive?
Draco never got into trouble, but then again he never talked in his classes or at meals. Earlier in the year, he played the role of a Death Eater, cursed children, spat at his roommates, growled at anyone in his way. He hexed people in the corridor and bullied peers to do his homework for him. He walked over peoples faces, caused them pain, torture. He helped torture.
He'd get called out of classes by the Carrow's, then he'd be ordered a spell, an unforgivable, and then he'd have to do it on whomever it was-- normally a younger year. It made him puke in the bathroom every time.
But he was finished taunting the Gryffindors and screaming at the first years. He was finished with using his magic against people. He was finished with caring.
Only his remedial group of friends could get a peep out of him. The absence of Harry was maddening. He wouldn't get much sleep at night, and sometimes the nightmares were horrific, enough to wake him instantly. They all contained Harry, one way or another.
A soft knock caused Draco to open his eyes. Another caused him to stand, to feel the icy floor beneath him. He strode to it, his face of sorrow and body numb.
He opened the door, completely ignoring who it was. "Can't you wait until it's, oh, I don't know, not two o' clock in the morning?"
"Didn't think you'd care considering it was me," an all too familiar voice spoke. Draco's head bolted up to see those green eyes, that known frame, that lightning scar. He froze.
"Harry," he whispered breathlessly. Immediately, Draco's heart set aflame for him. "H-Harry, what are you... You're alive!"
He nodded, tears in his eyes. "Barely."
"How the hell did you get in the castle? Gates are protected, doors. Patrols, everything." His voice was weak, as well as his knees.
"I had to see you," he said.
"Come in," Draco realized he was standing out in the open, where anyone could find him. "How'd you know I was here?"
"It's in the papers," he said, "You're Head Boy." It was awkward. He was awkward. The air between them was awkward. Draco was numb to feelings, and Harry was numb because of feeling. He dropped his backpack on the floor with a slap, letting it carelessly fall off his shoulders. He couldn't keep his eyes off of him.
Draco nodded, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, frankly because he knew he'd faint if he didn't. "Why are you here?"
"May I sit?" He nodded, scooting back on his bed, leaving the bottom half for him.
"How did you get in?"
"Doesn't matter. But I'm sure they'll figure it out eventually."
"Are you here alone?"
"Yes. Ron left us, and I left Hermione. I figured she'd understand. I'll find her. Ron will." He took off his coat, which was full of dirt and grime. His face was, too.
"Where have you been all this time," Draco asked, and his voice cracked.
"Hiding."
"I get that," he sniffled, "but where?"
"All over. We move around. It's not important. I'll be in a different place every day. It's terrifying," he swallowed. "Every time I hear a branch fall or a twig or a leaf I think it's someone trying to murder me."
"So why would you come here? Where there are hundreds of Death Eaters trying to kill you."
"I figured I'd either be killed here or killed out there, and I had to see you." He ran a hand through his hair, and Draco couldn't ignore the pain in his chest that he got while wanting to mess it up. "I've read your letters."
Draco's heart skipped a beat. "You have?"
"Yes. And I am so bloody sorry." He looked him in the eyes, the green in them so brightly fierce, it was almost blinding. "I'm so sorry I didn't give you a chance. I'm so sorry I said all those awful things and hurt you so much. I had to tell you in person: I fucking love you, Draco. And yes, I will. I want you forever. After this war, I want to be married to you."
Draco's throat closed, his chest pulled tight, and stomach did backflips. "You do?"
"Yes. So much."
Draco bit his lip, the tears in his eyes overflowing as he stood on his knees and crawled to Harry, wrapping his arms around him. After holding him tight, he kissed him, experimentally at first, and then daringly, and then hard. Draco fell on his back, Harry's weight on top of him. He couldn't believe it. Harry. Harry was on top of him. Kissing him. Telling him sorry and loving him.
Draco, overwhelmed, pushed Harry away slightly, just so he could breathe, and he smiled as he caught his breath, Harry, too, on top of him, grinning. "You're wearing my jumper?"
"Yes," Draco laughed. "I always sleep in it. It's the only thing that keeps me through the night."
Harry's smile widened. He tangled his limbs with Draco's, and buried a hand in his air while Draco's palm rested tenderly on his cheek. They met again, hotter this time, their lips more eager, more passionate.
It felt the same.
Draco's heart filled with so much love, and he couldn't keep from reaching for Harry's shirt buttons. It was now or never, making love. They'd have to do it now. There was no thinking, there was no time to. Harry was right, someone would find him. And he might die. And Draco might never see him again.
Was that why Harry came here? To see him off? To do what he had to do before he could say goodbye.
"Harry, are you sure? It could get complicated," Draco asked, almost done with his shirt. Harry on the other hand, had moved to his jaw, then his neck, leaving Draco to give him a long, drawn out moan.
"I don't want to die without sleeping with you," he said. "There are no guarantees, so I'd rather do it and die happy or do it and regret it as we fight about how mad we are to want to be together again, after all we've done to each other."
Draco nodded, and finished with his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulder blades. Harry threw it to the size.
Head spinning, Draco sat up, and Harry grabbed the hem of his hoodie and pulled it off of him, revealing Draco's chest. Harry proceeded to devour it.
And then all their clothes were off of them.
And then they were having their way with each other. Sweaty and hot and sticky and warm and loving.
"I love you," Harry shouted over and over again, and Draco, too.
As they finished, the lay together, limbs tangled, cuddling. Draco hadn't felt so wonderful in his entire life.
"We could run away together," Draco suggested, running his hand through Harry's head.
Despite his feelings, Harry smiled, kissing his shoulder. "No we can't."
"I know. But it would be wonderful to."
"It would."
"So why not?" Draco's hand roamed to Harry's arse. He ran his fingers along the skin there, and Harry shivered. Harry just gave a small laugh, and continued kissing his shoulders and up his neck. It was bliss. "I can't believe how wonderful you were. We should have done this a long time ago."
"I know."
"Your body is a piece of art."
He buried his face into his shoulder, bashful. "Shut up."
"It is."
"Yours is wonderful, too."
"I know."
Harry laughed again, then grabbed Draco's ear with his teeth, sucking on it. "We could do it again."
"Maybe," Draco yawned. "In the morning. Before you go."
"Most definitely."
Draco almost fell asleep when Harry spoke again, waking him. "I can't believe your body didn't scar."
He froze, unable to move, stuck. His heart went from beating safely to exploding in anxiety. "What?"
"Your body. I thought it'd scar from the sectumsempra."
"It did."
"No, it didn't," Harry sat up, pointing to his chest. "Look, all clean." Draco looked down at his chest in the damp light from the fire, and immediately his stomach dropped. No scars. Draco shook his head, biting his lip. His throat closed. "Beautiful," Harry kissed along it, taking his nipple in his mouth. "Mine."
Tears fell from Draco's eyes.
"What's wrong," Harry asked. "Shouldn't you be happy? This way if we ever do this again, if we get married, I won't be reminded of what I did to you." Harry kissed his lips, sitting across his stomach.
He should have felt light headed. He should have felt happy. But he felt horror.
He closed his eyes. "Harry?"
"Yes, my love?"
"Is my Dark Mark there?"
"Hm? No."
"Why didn't you mention that," he cried. "Why didn't you say something about the scars earlier?"
"Because I didn't want to wake you."
"Why," Draco shouted in agony, tortured. "Why would you do this to me?"
"Because it's all just a game, Draco," he whispered in his ear.
Before Harry had the time to kiss him again, Draco had awoken, finding himself alone, in a small puddle. He screamed, and started cursing and finally sobbing.
He looked around the room, focusing on a poster of Harry- one that the ministry made.
Undesirable No. 1
It constantly reminded him that Harry was missing.
Gone.
His eyes traveled down to his left arm, covered in silk. He slowly lifted the sleeve, tickling his own skin, hoping the horrid mark wasn't there. To his disappointment, it was still there. And so were the scars on his chest.
They always would be.
—————————————————
Harry knew it was a bad idea. He knew that he was digging himself in a hole that was going to be hell to get out of. But he was bored and curious and lonely, and damn it, something had to work. Something had to destroy the locket. Something had to get Draco off of his mind.
"Open," Harry hissed in parseltongue, awaiting the ferocity of what ever he was about to face. But nothing happened. Not some fancy spiel made up of smoke and dancing figures, or hissing, or even any face of Voldemort as Harry was expecting.
The locket was barren and dry and almost dead. He waited. Nothing happened.
He waited for ten minutes. Nothing happened.
He waited for twenty minutes. Nothing happened.
Maybe the locket was broken? Maybe he hadn't said it right? Surely it'd opened, it'd responded. But why wasn't it working?
He spent the next hour wondering the same things, examining the locket, it hissing when he touched it, until he'd almost fallen asleep in a pile of sodden leaves painted in cold dirt. But what woke him to a dead freeze was the screaming of his name.
"Harry!" It wasn't Hermione; she was asleep in the tent over on the other side of the hill. It wasn't Ron; he'd been gone for weeks now.
He sat up and looked immediately to the locket, which still hadn't done anything. It wasn't coming from there.
"Harry!" It came again, and Harry stood this time, attempting to pinpoint where it was coming from. Footsteps stomped in the distance, coming closer, and Harry drew his wand, pointing at the direction that they were coming from. Closer and closer, Harry glanced over at the trees across from him, when suddenly a boy with white hair and mercury eyes stood next to.
"Harry." The words were a whisper as Draco laid his eyes on him. Harry immediately perked up, his hands sweating and heart beating through this chest. "It's you! I can't believe it's you."
"Draco," Harry mouthed, but then shrieked it, "DRACO!"
He ran to him, Draco sprinting as fast as he could and they met at the bottom of the hill, Harry with open arms, Draco, too, but despite their momentum, Harry didn't feel a thing when they connected, he was so numb.
"Draco, what are you," Harry started but realized that Draco wasn't wrapped in his arms, rather behind him. "Draco?"
"Harry," Draco smiled as Harry turned around, "You're alive."
Harry frowned. "You're not real."
"What are you talking about, Harry? I'm right here," Draco complied.
Harry reached out to touch Draco's cheek, however instead of the skin stopping him, Harry's hand went completely through his face.
"You're not the real Draco. You're fake."
"I'm not fake," Draco still smiled.
"Then why are you smiling," Harry said in a tone of sadness. "I hurt you. You shouldn't be smiling right now. You should hate me-"
"I don't hate you! How could I ever hate you?"
"Because I broke your heart," Harry's voice cracked. "I broke you like you broke me."
"I forgive you," Draco grinned. "I'm with you now."
Harry swallowed as tears formed in his eyes. But then he got angry. "I ripped your heart out! You wanted marriage and I gave you hell."
"We all make mistakes, Harry. How could I not love you," Draco beamed.
"Don't tell me you love me!"
"Oh, but I do! I always have. I know I should have told you, but I wanted to make it special."
"Any time would have been fine," Harry growled, thinking back to the memory.
"But why not when I asked to marry you. You remember that night, don't you?"
"Every second of it," he swallowed. His heart burned like it was being skinned like a fish. The very sight of Draco made him want to throw up. "Every damned second of it."
"Are you sure? I could play it all out for you." Swiftly, Draco's clothes changed to those of that night. Draco went on one knee, reaching in his pocket to grab a stunning silver ring.
"Don't," Harry barked.
"Oh, but Harry, don't you ever think about what could have happened if I just was a little more careful? If I'd just have buttoned my cuffs with different clasps?"
Harry backed away from him slightly. "Stop it." This was a special kind of torture.
"We could have been so happy," Draco smiled, standing and stepping towards him, before frowning. "But you ruined it."
"You ruined it," Harry lied.
"You know I'm innocent, Harry," Draco said. "You've always known I was innocent. We were just too happy to be true because everything you've ever had has been taken from you and you thought if you threw me out before I could get taken, too, you wouldn't have been so lonely."
Tears slipped Harry's eyes, and the fake Draco tried to wipe them but couldn't. That was true. That was completely true.
"Remember how happy we were?"
"Yes," Harry's voice cracked.
"Oh look, there we are now," Draco smiled, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders and spinning him around to where the locket was. Up from it came green smoke, framing two boys dressed in school robes, laughing and smiling.
"Draco," Harry whispered involuntarily. It hurt so bad, looking at the sight in front of him, remembering the exact joke they were laughing at. It was Trelawny, Friday the 13th: the very beginning that started two years of complete, laughable bliss.
"Remember that?"
Harry nodded.
"Do you remember what it was like to kiss me?"
"Draco, please don't." Harry shut his eyes, not wanting to see what was in front of him.
"You've forgotten already," Draco sounded disappointed, "I haven't. I loved kissing you."
Harry opened his eyes to see the two completely wrapped up in each other, making out so languidly, so lovingly; Harry biting Draco's lip softly, Draco pulling him closer in a need that they both constantly had.
His heart ached. "Please, Draco, make it stop."
But it didn't stop. The fake Draco had started taking fake Harry's robes off, undoing his tie sloppily but kissing him in the process of it to make it look like an art.
"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like? Making love?"
"I..." Harry trailed, examining the two in front of him in awe. Harry's shirt was gone and Draco's was hanging loosely on his shoulder, Harry moving to take it off. They looked naked now, due to the fact that the smoke cut them off at their waists.
"I would have treated you so well. I would have been so soft. I would have been so soft, it would have hurt you because of how loving it would have been."
The fake Draco kissed the fake Harry's neck, so tenderly the real Harry thought he was going to puke. He kissed down his neck and then chest, going lower and lower until Draco completely disappeared, and the thought of what he was doing under the smoke made the real Harry's imagination run wild.
"You would be so beautiful. So beautiful making love to," Draco purred in the real Harry's ear. Because of what the fake Draco was doing to the fake Harry, the fake Harry threw his head back, his mouth opening as if he was moaning and eyebrows creased in ecstasy. "Look at you."
A hand was placed on fake Harry's stomach, it looking erratic within itself grasping his abs like it was a source of breath.
"But just think about the make up sex after we took each others virginity. After all the awkward teenager stuff, the mistakes, the embarrassment. Think about how rough it would have been, how wild we could have been."
The fake Draco came back into view and picked Harry up, slamming him against the tree and lifting him. Again, the smoke had cut off his view, but Harry knew exactly what was going on, the fact he could see the tops of his knees bobbing up and down to Draco pounding into him. His mouth hung open and he pulled fake Draco closer, grasping onto his bear back with his fingernails hard enough to bruise. They kissed so riotously.
"Love me, Harry, love me," he fake Draco chanted.
The real Harry fell to the ground, his knees buckling. He begged for this agony to be over, but nothing stopped it, and he doubled over on the ground and shut his eyes, the sounds of him and his lover making love filling his ears. He couldn't stand it.
"We could have had that," Draco kneeled next to him, "It would have felt so good." Somehow, he forced Harry's chin up, pushing him to watch, and Harry whimpered and cried as he did.
The fake Harry was on edge and the fake Draco kissed down his neck moaning against it. And then the fake Harry's moans got louder and louder each time, and then he started screaming Draco's name because he was so close. And if he looked closer, the real Harry could see tears coming from fake Harry's eyes that the fake Draco then kissed away. Fake Draco cried, too, and watched him intently, also calling his name because he was so close.
"What would have happened if I told you," Draco asked next to him. He pondered. Just before they were about to release, the scene changed and the real Harry cried out in misery. "What, you think I'd let you see the best part after what you've done to me?"
Harry just whimpered and cried, wanting the nightmare to be over.
"But what would have happened if I told you the first day back from holiday?" The two fake puppets in front of them changed to look a little younger, Draco much more healthy that the last time he'd actually seen him in real life, even if over summer he did have the pain that Harry could only imagine. They were in their school uniforms. "Would you have hated me like you hate me now?"
"I hated you because you almost killed me and my best friend," Harry growled.
"Oh no, you hated me because I got the Mark. Just because I almost did murder people, that's not why you hated me. You hated me because I got a tattoo on my arm that you didn't like. So tell me. Would it have mattered if I told you in the beginning or in the end? Tell me, Harry, was I clever to wait?"
The fake Draco stood in front of fake Harry with the look of insecurity he always had when Draco brought up the mark.
"Time doesn't matter when one betrays. You would have hated me then just as much as you hated me that night. I was smart to wait because we both know this wouldn't have happened."
The two fakes in front of them played what was supposed to happen. Fake Draco was crying as he lifted his left sleeve, and fake Harry, although heartbroken just listened to Fake Draco's story.
"He made me do it. I wanted to defend you but he would have killed my friends, my family. He would have killed you, too, and I can't bare letting you go," he choked. "I love you, Harry."
"I believe you. I'll help you," the fake Harry said, and he moved to hold fake Draco's hands. "You know I'll always love you, Draco."
"H-he want's me to kill someone, Harry," the fake Draco sobbed, "I can't do it. I can't."
"Who?"
The fake Draco shook his head. He was breaking down. "I can't say it," he shook his head.
"Please, Draco," Harry begged, kissing his hand. "I know you can't. You're not a murderer; you're not going to do it. I'll keep you safe."
"You won't hate me?"
"I could never!"
The fake Draco nodded. "D-Dumbledore."
The fake Harry hugged him as the fake Draco cried and cried and cried.
"Hey, you're going to be okay," the fake Harry said.
"Okay," fake Draco eventually calmed down. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
They kissed, and the real Harry's heart blackened.
"Tell me, Harry, would you have reacted that way," the Draco next to him asked, almost teased. "Would you have listened?" Harry just broke down next to him. "Why didn't you listen to me? I needed you!"
"I-I..."
"'I' what, Harry? You wouldn't have. You would have hated me just as much as you do now."
"I don't hate you," Harry sobbed.
"But then, oh but then you tried to kill me," Draco saddened. The fake Harry raised his wand to him and the fake Draco was thrown back, the green smoke turning to red.
"I didn't mean it, I swear," Harry begged.
"I loved you."
"Loved?"
"Yes loved. Not love."
"You don't love me anymore, don't you remember," Draco snarled.
The scene in front of him changed.
"Tell me you don't love me. Tell me you don't love me and I'll make you forget. Just tell me you don't love me."
Fake Draco moved in to kiss him but fake Harry pushed him away. "I don't love you."
The real Harry broke down just as the fake Draco did. Fake Harry ran away, gone into the smoke, but fake Draco remained in tears.
"You ripped my heart out," the Draco next to him screamed.
"I-I'm sorry, D-Draco! Please take me back, I n-need you!"
"But what if I've already found another?"
Harry froze. "Draco?"
"Think about it. I'm at Hogwarts. People who weren't available to me are now, people who are much smarter, much kinder, much more attractive, funnier, cleaner than you. You broke my heart and now I've got hundreds of rebounds. Maybe The One is in there, too. Maybe you're just a test to get to my real partner. Maybe you're already dead to me."
The image before him changed. Draco was older and looked healthier and smiled. He looked charming. But then a second figure walked into view, a girl, whose face was unrecognizable and almost hidden. Draco seemed so happy.
"Draco! No!" Harry turned to the Draco next to him, but he was gone, leaving Harry to watch the horror in front of him.
The blonde grabbed the girl's cheek and stroked her face. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she said.
Harry picked up a stone next to him and threw it at the two, it going right through the fog. They started kissing. Harry lent down to pick up a branch when he looked back up, the two were naked, just as he and him were a few minutes ago, her pressed up against his chest, moaning.
Harry threw the branch, completely missing, and screamed and cried and sobbed and wept into his forearms, his body completely shaking and giving out as his chest bled.
"Harry, tell it to close! Shut it!" Hermione, who must've came out of the tent to check on him, went to him, rubbing his back.
"Leave me alone!"
"Harry! Shut it!"
"No," he shrieked, the pain feeling like a drug. "Fuck, I love you, Draco, I love you!"
Hermione tried to pick him up by his chest, but he gave way, his body too weak to move on it's own.
"I love you, Draco," he sobbed.
"Please, Harry!"
"Draco!"
"Harry," Hermione shouted over his tears.
"Get off of me!"
"Harry you need to close it! I can't! I don't speak parseltongue!"
Harry just kept crying and crying.
"Please, Harry!"
"Close."
Hermione dropped him into the mud, Harry landing face first. He didn't care. He just kept weeping and sobbing and crying and screaming until his voice went horse. His chest bobbed so violently due to his sobs, Hermione thought he'd been possessed.
She had to admit, she'd never seen him this broken, let alone broken at all. Sure, when Sirius died, he cried and yelled, but he'd run out before it went past that. And even when he found out about the Mark, he'd cried, but she never saw him do more than cry.
But this. This was special. This was brutal. This was cruelty.
She stroked his back, but he pushed her away.
"Go away!"
"Harry-"
"I don't care! Just go! Anywhere! Just leave me here!"
"Harry-"
"GO!"
She left him at the point to where Harry was crying so hard he coughed.
"I love you, Draco."
—————————————
Even though he didn't have a calendar, he knew the day it was. He could feel it in every cell of his body.
Three years. What would have been three years since their first real date, their anniversary.
1095 days.
Harry found days passing where he didn't even say a word, days where he didn't have enough energy to put up the tent. It didn't help that Ron had left, and for quite sometime now.
Sometimes Harry felt like crying, but he physically couldn't, and others, he wanted to commit arson to everyone and everything in the world.
The weather bit at him as he sat outside during the cold and bitter day. Hermione was next to him reading a book.
"You should eat," she said pointing at the old tin of carrots between them.
Harry shook his head.
"They expire... well, I don't know the date it is but they're getting old. I don't know how much they'll hold up. It says February 28th on the tin—"
"It's the 25th," Harry said with the upmost confidence. Still, he sounded dead.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I do."
"There's no way you could possibly, unless you've been counting, which I know you haven't—"
"It's the 25th," he said again, firm.
"It's a good guess."
"Its the 25th," he boomed glaring at her.
She looked back at him with anger but then softened. "The 25th... that's... It's been a year hasn't it?"
Harry's heart burned. He turned away from her. "It has."
"Would you like to talk about it?"
"About how I'm not over him, about how it still feels like the first day..." he trailed in his pain. "No."
"But maybe talking about it would help you."
"Doubt it." Hermione got up and went inside the tent only to come out with a stack of envelopes and a book with small papers sticking out of it, stretching it to make the book unable to close all the way. "No, Hermione, I'm not doing this."
"Read it. Please." She tossed a ball of paper from her pocket.
"Have you?"
"The first, but not the rest. I'm sorry—"
"Don't be. I don't care. It doesn't matter. It was all fake."
"I-I imagine they all have a common theme."
Harry gave up arguing with her and uncrumpled the note.He scanned it at first but then reread it two more times. Hermione had a smirk plastered on her face as Harry's eyes lit up, but he tried to hide it.
"That doesn't mean anything," he bit.
"Really, if this master plan was a trick wouldn't he stop by now?"
"He's probably trying to capture me. You need to look at it from a death eaters perspective. Just lure in the bait."
"Fine go to the next one. Want to be five knuts it says the same thing?"
Harry hesitantly picked up the second letter and opened it, revealing the handwriting that seemed to mock him.
—-
Dear Harry,
Despite the hatred you feel towards me, and even though you think this was a trick I need you to know It wasn't. Everything was real. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year we were together since February 25th has been real. Every single second since I left you has been filled with regret.
I should have told you.
And if I die during this war, carrying this burden on my shoulders, know I will happily rot in hell knowing I deserve what I get.
I'm so sorry.
D
—-
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So."
Harry ignored her, however, and threw away the paper and moved to the next one.
—-
Dear Harry, or Potter, or whatever you wish for me to call you,
I know you can't still be in love with me, it's impossible, but I would appreciate it if you sent me anything back, just so I know you're alive. A simple "Fuck off" would be better than nothing.
I love you. I always will. Always.
My heart still beats for you, Harry Potter. Every single beat.
But why would you care? I'm just scum to you anyway. I'm scum to everybody.
But they don't understand that I didn't chose to openly defy you. He would have killed my family, my friends, and then he would torture me until every single secret of yours is spilled. Then he would find you, and kill you. At least I choose what I tell, which isn't anything real of course.
But you don't trust me. I don't deserve to be trusted.
Wherever you are, good luck.
D
—-
Dear Harry,
Remember when I gave you the pocket watch? Of course you do, but there was a small dial that kept growing as each day past. I figured out what it counted.
The days in which the one that gave it to you fell in love with you.
It's at 1000 right now.
D
—-
Dear Harry,
I love you.
D
—-
Harry clenched at that one. His throat burned as he let out a choke he was holding in.
—-
Dear Harry,
I love you.
D
—-
Harry,
I love you.
D
—
SF,
I love you.
F
—-
I hate you. Arse.
—
I love you.
—-
Dear Harry,
I don't think you understand how much this hurts.
Every single time I inhale my chest feels it will explode and I think of you, knowing you could never feel the same way as I do for you, again.
I can't sleep. I can't eat. Even if I do sleep I dream of you. You taunt me. Mock me. I don't appreciate it. Stop it.
The worst one is you forgetting who I am. We're at Hogwarts and it's our anniversary, and I bring you flowers, the ones from the forbidden forest, the ones you love to smell. But you don't remember who I am.
Another consists of you and I in a bed in the room of requirement, having sex by a fireplace, my dark mark doesn't exist, and you kiss me in my favorite spot. I hate it.
I hate it because it's driving me mad. Everything seems so real, something we would do, and I just want to know what it feels like to have you inside me, me inside you, but that won't happen.
If you can tell, I don't even care what I write anymore, you never respond anyway, how could I even know you're getting them? I guess it's another way to vent.
D
—-
Potter,
I wish I could forget you. I wish I could forget everything about you. The way you smelled. The way you tasted, and the way you looked.
I wish I could forget how you used to lick your lips before you ate treacle tart. And the way you shook in your sleep when you had nightmares. The way you looked into my eyes, how they lit up like a Christmas tree. I wish I could forget Christmas with you too.
I wish I didn't put so much in to this so that I could at least try to forget everything we had together.
I wish I could.
I wish I could forget how you crinkled your nose when you laughed really hard. And how when you were all sweaty after quidditch, you would wipe it off with the bottom of your shirt. And maybe how the way you sounded when your breath evened out when you slept. And how you sounded when you moaned. When you said my name.
When we were at bliss.
I wish I could forget you. How your fingers felt against mine, or how you stroked my hand with your thumb. How you looked in your stupid glasses. Prat.
How behind those stupid glasses you had those eyes that I could never fully discover because each cell was too elaborate for the time we had together.
I wish I could forget your stupid, fucking lips. And your stupid fucking smile. Merlin, I get so angry when I think about that stupid. fucking. dorky. smile.
I wish I could forget your stupid, fucking face. I wish I could forget the first day we met in that stupid fucking robe shop. And that day on the train. And all the days before that when I admired you. When I wanted to be your friend no matter what it took.
There was a large splatter after that, and the paper had a hole in it. Harry guessed it was when he broke his quill out of anger. He also realized that each and every word was a vein leading to Draco's heart. Every word. It burned him to think about it.
Harry actively cried.
You know what's funny about this whole stupid fucking Plan to Seduce Potter? That I never ancipated the only flaw in my plan, which was completely falling for you.
I'm fucking stupid. Why? Because I'm so fucking in love with you it hurts to... exist.
I sit here in every class, staring at your seat the whole time, wondering where the hell you are, if you're a live. Please be alive.
So I can kill you. Slowly.
But I know if you walked in, I would probably jump you, and kiss you until you bled, and I would hug you- Merlin, I wish I could forget your hugs- I would hug you until my arms fell off. Even if you hated me. Even if you hexed me. Or hurt me- hell, you've done that enough all ready, I probably wouldn't feel a thing.
I would touch every fiber of your skin, push you up against the wall, kiss you until you couldn't breathe anymore, like we used to. I wish I could forget that too.
I wish I could forget how warm you always were, even in the cold. I wish I could forget our place in the forest, where I fell in love with you.
Harry felt the paper, although it be bone dry, it was crinkled as if there was water on it previously. Draco cried when he wrote this, probably harder than Harry was now. He let out a sob for making Draco cry enough for it to drip on the actual parchement.
Yet I go there every day, wishing you were there with me. Wishing I could touch you again.
I wish I could forget your stupid, fucking name. I wish I could forget everything about you.
I wish I could breathe without thinking about you.
Draco didn't sign it, and Harry guessed he didn't have the courage to. He sobbed.
Dear Harry,
Please please please get this letter. It may be the last one I write, and I just need you to know that I do love you. I forever will. And even if you don't, you need to know.
The dark lord is angry and I barely escaped him and snuck back to Hogwarts. I feel as though every time I see him, my life flashes before my eyes. I feel as though I'm about to greet death. If one day that happens to me, know that I'll never stop loving you. Ever.
I just wish I could kiss you one last time.
D
——-
Harry sat there with his head in his hands, heart going to split into pieces.
"God, I'm such an idiot," he said into nothing. Tears streaked his cheeks.
"Harry what is this," she asked, holding Draco's diary. "I found it in my pile of books, and then I realized it was yours."
"Our whole relationship in writing."
"When did he give you this?"
"Christmas in 6th year. It was my present," he choked.
"How much did you read of it?"
"I think I got up to the part right before 5th year ends," he said wiping water from his face. "We were talking about... taking our relationship to the next level, and he wrote about how excited he was. And then I found out he was a Death Eater and never picked it up again."
"Taking it to the next level?"
"Why are you so obsessed with my sex life?"
"I'm not," she defended. "Your life is yours. But I find it interesting that in 5th year you two were all over each other and then all of a sudden 6th year hits and he doesn't want to touch you."
"I imagine swearing in to a cult that fantasizes about my destruction every day would do that to you. And how did you know he didn't want to touch me?"
"The Great Hall when you were arguing about quidditch. You grabbed his arm and he looked really uncomfortable. Not because you were in front of people—if that was the reason, he would've let it happened and then remembered to pull away from you. Or he would have touched you back, pushed you away or something. It was like he was afraid to touch you."
Harry didn't say anything.
"Are you planning on reading 6th year?"
"The point?"
"You never know." She handed it to him, eyeing the place where a piece of parchment marked his spot. "You're nearly done with it. He must not have written a lot."
Harry took the book, reluctantly swallowed, and opened it. The sheer outline of his writing made his eyes water.
Diary,
I saw Harry for the first time since the summer. It was the most horrible and wonderful thing in all of the world. He's beautiful. Everything about him. I can't fucking stand it.
How am I supposed to hurt him?
Harry paused. If Draco planned to give this to him, this was supposed to be the first flag. He imagined himself back in 6th year, reading his in his bed. He was supposed to question it and keep reading. But this Harry knew why he was going to be hurt. This Harry knew more than the vulnerable Harry did.
I want to lock him away somewhere nice, like France or Germany, and keep him there so no one in the world would ever hurt him. That sounds bloody creepy...
Seeing him on the train today was utter madness, well rather feeling him. He wore his cloak and sat next to me the whole ride. He's so cute.
I can't stand him.
I don't really know what else to say because thinking is a hard thing to do and there's too much of it all at once.
I'd rather be in hell than go through this year.
Yours,
D
Harry skimmed the next few, which consisted of the argument of hating Harry and complimenting him, but the darker bits stood out to him: He found out about me lying to him about quidditch, I'm such an idiot... this is so hard, he won't ever understand... I'm in so much pain all the time...we spent Christmas together and almost had sex but I was in too much pain to... waking up is becoming a really hard thing to do... Madame Pompfrey cut me off from pepper up potion, apparently I'm close to overdosing... Snape won't leave me alone... Blaise told me that Harry was flirting with the girl-weasel, I'm going to take a hammer to my stupid face... he took Luna to the party, I wish it would have been me, but I promised Harry I'll take him to a gala, which I plan to fulfill if I don't die before then, whether by myself or by the war...
It made Harry feel sick. This was what was going on in Draco's head the entire year and Harry had no idea. He couldn't think of a coherent thing to say. He tried to image himself not knowing about him being a death eater, with Draco's plan of him supposed to read this: Harry, then, would have never made it past a few pages without confronting him about it immediately... because Draco had these horrible thoughts...
Turning the page to the last entry was very hard for him to do.
Dear diary,
This whole time I've been writing to an unknown, someone who's supposed to listen to me, someone who's supposed to replace those who don't. But I have someone who listens, and does it damn well (even though he's hot tempered and can sometimes be an idiot). I've been wondering who I've been writing to but now I know who.
It's been you Harry. It's always been you. You've always been there for me, and I trust you enough to tell you anything, but there is one thing I can't say in person.
Harry, I know you'd rather hear this from my mouth, but I know you. You have a short temper. You'd over react, think I did this on purpose, but I promise you I didn't. I know I can't hold this in longer, so that's why I decided to give you this for Christmas in writing, because want you to listen to what I have to say, not look at my face and pick up things you want to hear, and discount the tiny details that makeup the story.
Don't worry, I know you'll get mad. And even more angry when you realize I didn't say this out loud to you. That's another reason I decided to stay away from you. I can't stand to see the heartbreak on your face. This won't be easy, but I just need to let it out.
Over the summer The Dark Lord called me to dinner. He saw what we did, he felt your feelings for me. He questioned me, and everyone else involved in our little secret. We decided to go along with it being a trick so he could honor us instead of scold. I know, I'm stupid. I broke your promise, but I did so in reason. Instead of throwing me in the dungeon and forcing the answers out of me, I was able to choose what I said. If not, I'd be killed. He took the plan as deceitful and was proud I came up with such a clever idea.
Harry, he made me take the mark. I have it. It's on my left arm, not my right (seriously, you're an idiot sometimes, check both arms next time). I couldn't refuse, I was surrounded and if I even hinted at the idea that I wasn't excited for it, he would have tortured me and killed me and my family. He said he'd kill you, and that thought... Harry you have to kill him, you have to!
But that's not the worst part. I want to throw up because of what I'm about to write. He wants me to kill someone. Harry, I can't do that! I can't! How am I supposed to look an innocent man in the eye and end his life?
I know you're angry that I didn't tell you, and there's also a reason for that. After I took the mark, he made me make an unbreakable vow that bound me to death if I ever told you that I was a death eater. Funny. He forgot to say I couldn't write it down, which is why you had to either find out on your own, or read this. And why not a better Christmas present than the truth.
He also used legitemence on me to spy on me, but I promise that he never heard a single word of our private conversations. That's why sometimes I wince when I'm around you. It's never a stomach ache. He's torturing me because I'm blocking him out with occlumency. He will never hear a word passed between us, you must understand. I don't care if it kills me. That's only ours to hear.
It just hurts really bad, like crucio bad and he makes it worse when you touch me because your connection. He can feel your love for me. He knows when we hang out. Don't worry, it sounds horrible, but it's good because it means I'm following orders. I'm sorry that that's what our dates have turned into.
But maybe now, if you'll forgive me, we can think of a way out of this. Or at least have a date without it ending in pain. I don't know how, but maybe now that you know, it can get better.
Just please don't hate me for too long. I understand you'll be angry and you have a right to, but I don't know how long I'll... be around. If I fail him, which I have every intention of doing so, he's going to kill me.
I want to spend as much time as I physically can with you while I still have it, I don't care if i have to cut off my arm.
I'm just so scared, and I hope when you read this you'll understand that this wasn't my choice and if it was, I would have chosen you without second's hesitation. Maybe in our next lifetime, the dictator trying to take over the world won't be so cruel.
I just hope you understand before the task is fulfilled. I can't eat, or sleep, and it literally kills me every day i have to look you in the eye and lie to you.
I'm so sorry.
Please help me.
I know you'll Always be there for me. You know where to find me.
Love,
Draco
—-
Harry froze, covering his mouth as though he were to puke. He began to sob violently. He felt a piece of paper fly out of the binding. Harry looked down at the paper to see it be the picture of Draco and him kissing.
He held the picture close to his heart as his entire body shook.
How could he be so ignorant? So wrong about everything? Harry never gave him a chance to explain.
He just hoped that one day he'd be able to make it up to Draco.
—————————-
Draco sat in the cold dark air of the forbidden forest, wearing Harry's old Gryffindor hoodie, looking at the picture of Harry kissing his cheek. He let a few tears run down his cheek, his heart burning.
"Happy anniversary, Harry, wherever you are," he whispered into the wind.