Sudden Realization

There is a crack in everything,
That's how the light gets in.

-Leonard Cohen

Harry was quite nervous. Ok, maybe not as nervous as he was facing a dragon, or playing for the Quidditch Cup, or even the dull fear he had felt for years now knowing he would have to face Voldemort, but he was pretty damn nervous.

Tomorrow, he would have to go to the ministry and take his Apparation test, but dawn was long hours away, and not once this night was Harry able to catch some slumber. Rolling over once again in the lumpy cot, Harry envisioned himself standing in the ministry building, the officials trying to patiently wait for him to Apparate, but he couldn't; his body stayed where it was, no disappearing, no flickering, no nothing. They would yell at him, wonder what was wrong with him, and probably ban him from the wizarding world.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm his senses. For the past couple of weeks, the entire Weasley family had given him advice on how to pass. Mrs. Weasley constantly comforted him, telling him, quite assuredly, he would pass with flying colors. The twins were informing him how to get on the examiner's side, little cheat tricks sure to make him pass. Ron, on the other hand, was filling Harry in on every horror story about Apparating he ever heard; everything from splinching your head off, to landing somewhere remote, usually the lunar moon or Antarctica, and unable to get back.

He of course wasn't really allowed to practice Apparating, it was illegal since he was still underage till the next day (even though Ron and him had toed the legal line before many times), so Harry had no idea if he could really pull it off. After lying on his side, gnawing on his thumb nail for several minutes, he made a firm decision and fairly jumped out of the covers. Throwing a jumper over his pajamas, Harry snatched his wand from the night stand, pushed his glasses on roughly, and walked resolutely out of Ron's room and down the stairs to the living room.

Standing in the middle of the worn rug, Harry tried to collect his nerves. All he was going to do was to just try Apparating, only to the garden out back, not very far at all, just to see if he could do it, just to the garden, nothing to be worried about.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry tried to block out every horrible gruesome thought trying to sneak its way into his mind, and concentrated very hard on the garden. Picturing green landscape everywhere, a silvery moon lighting the grounds, and snapdragons waving in the slight night breeze, Harry braced himself for the worst, and Apparated.

His feet landed on something very soft and squishy, and losing his balance, he fell forward till he was laying on his stomach, his breathed knocked out of him.

"Oof!" Harry didn't make a sound, but was suddenly very aware of something moving, something alive underneath him. His eyes adjusting to the darkness, he looked down and saw Draco Malfoy staring up at him, in complete shock. His stomach plummeted so fast, Harry made a conscious effort not to hurl. Knowing he had just Apparated into Malfoy's bed made him decidedly queasy.

"Malfoy?" he gasped, still catching his breath.

"What the hell Potter," He growled in a very low voice. As Harry became gradually less numb, he realized Malfoy was breathing in very deeply and rapidly, not having gotten his breath back yet. Harry was made also aware he was lying on Malfoy in a rather, sensual way, his legs between Malfoy's, and his chest aligned up, torso to torso, heart to heart. Harry blushed very deeply, and was extremely grateful for the darkness.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry began to stutter, "Well, Malfoy, I-I was just practicing-just gonna prac- you know-once-once, in the garden-and well--," Malfoy cut him off effectively by covering Harry's mouth with his hand, his eyes wide with fear. Listening, Harry could hear footsteps growing closer, heels slapping the hard floor outside Malfoy's door with frightening speed.

"Shit," Malfoy whispered very softly, his breath tickling Harry's face. Malfoy rolled over so fast that Harry didn't realize what was happening until he found himself abruptly underneath Malfoy, somehow under the covers. Malfoy's weight, Harry vaguely noticed, was not altogether uncomfortable. Malfoy got as flat as possible to Harry; their foreheads were touching, and Malfoy's head was tilted to the side toward the door, effectively hiding Harry's face with his long silver hair, and Harry's body with his own. Harry's mind was on overdrive, trying to keep up with what was happening. Malfoy was lying on top of him, in his bed, some time in the night. Harry thought he would gag, but at that moment, Malfoy's door opened, and in stepped Lucius Malfoy.

Harry's vision was minimal, and all he could see was out of the corner of his eye and through the curtain of Malfoy's fine hair. His chest was moving up and down, very fast, and Harry could feel both their hearts pounding in their ribcages. Lucius stood in the doorway for several long moments, staring at his sleeping son, till a faint shriek resounded through the manor, fading to a trembling note, and then was snuffed out. Harry shuddered, chilled by the sound and by the fear of discovery by the death eater. Malfoy grasped Harry's hand tight, whether to give Harry comfort (he doubted that) or to tell him to be still. Wondering why in hell's name Malfoy wasn't turning him in, Harry lay still under him. Lucius stiffened, looked at his pocket watch, and muttering to himself, swept out of the room, closing the door behind him with an audible click. Harry let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Malfoy didn't move an inch, and Harry was getting a little uncomfortable.

Breaking the silence, he asked quietly, "What was that scream?" Malfoy didn't say anything, but stayed silent and still. After several tense minutes, Harry regretted asking that question, but not as much as he regretted practicing Apparating in the middle of the bloody night. He was such an idiot; Hermione would have his head if she ever found out about his.

He was just steeling himself to wriggle out beneath Malfoy when the other said in a whisper, "It happens all the time, I suppose, I'm used to it now."

Harry remained silent.

"They always scream, every one of them, but in the end, they all go silent."

"Who?" Harry asked quietly.

"The Mudbloods, the Muggles, the Squibs, the old, the young, the important, the tossed aside, anyone he feels like. They always come, always scream, and then they disappear as if they never were. The idiots," Malfoy had lifted his head up, and was now staring at a point above Harry's left shoulder, his eyes clouded and intense, but his face didn't show disgust or anger, but rather weariness, a resignation, helplessness. This abrupt showing of emotions on Malfoy's part so startled Harry, that he gasped softly in the back of his throat. If Malfoy heard it, he didn't say. It was all so surreal, like a dream you wish you couldn't remember, but Harry found himself drawn to the gray eyes that had now settled on his own.

"What are you doing here again Potter?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," was the truthful answer. All in one blow, everything was swept out of Harry's head. He couldn't remember his test tomorrow, he couldn't remember he was supposed to be sleeping in Ron's room right now, and he couldn't even remember his own middle name. He didn't think he wanted to remember. Something tangible had shifted inside himself, something very significant. All that existed now was Malfoy's piercing eyes staring into his own, and the sudden realization that Harry didn't mind being in Malfoy's bed in the least. Reaching a hand up, Harry tucked one of Malfoy's long strands that were hanging freely behind his ear.

"You're father is a little messed up, Malfoy,"

"I know,"

"You've changed Malfoy,"

"I know,"

Their voices had gradually lowered till they were whispering, their breaths on each other's faces, Harry's hand still in Malfoy's hair. Malfoy brought a hand up, and slowly traced Harry's scar with a feather light touch, his face an unreadable expression. Harry shivered slightly.

Malfoy lowered his head till their foreheads were once again touching. Neither knew why they were doing exactly what they were doing. Neither knew why they didn't jump apart and yell at each other. Neither knew why they didn't want to pummel each other's brains in. All they knew was that they had crossed a faint line and neither wanted to look back.

Their lips touched, and Harry was swept away by the electricity in it. The passion in it was so heartbreaking, and Malfoy clung on to him, kissing him so gently, as if afraid he would sweep away. The kiss was not lust-filled, was not a snog, but merely two boys clinging to each other, sudden realization scaring them out of their wits, and emancipated emotion coursing through their veins. Their tongues were seeking each other, desperately trying to commit every moment, every sensation to memory.

Their tops were off soon, and their chests were pressed up against one another, the feeling of skin on skin so right. Malfoy broke away and buried his face in Harry's neck, breathing deeply. Harry ran his fingers up and down Malfoy's smooth back softly, holding him close. Their legs were tangled, the cotton rubbing up against each other under the cool, silk sheets. All these sensations were so new, he wasn't sure if he could keep up, but that didn't stop him from enjoying this rare moment.

Harry began to whisper, talking of everything, of anything, while Malfoy listened. "I used to wonder if you were lying to the world, if really you were just as lost, as uncertain as I am. I used to wonder if you were really as soft and smooth as you looked. I used to wonder what might have happened if I wasn't Harry Potter, and you weren't Draco Malfoy, if we were friends. I used to wonder if we could still be friends, if not for Voldemort, if not for the war, if we were not sworn enemies. But, Draco, this feels so right, with you, as if this was how it was meant to be all along,"

Harry stopped talking when he felt Draco, who up to that point had been silent, was shaking slightly and was crying into the crook of his neck. Harry ran his fingers lightly through Draco's hair as the scorching tears dripped down his skin. Draco sat up, straddling Harry's waist, and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand.

"This is not how it can be. We can never be like this," he gestured between Harry and himself. "Our lives are set for us, Harry. Our lives are set strictly for the light, and the darkness. Our lives are set for war, and when we meet in battle, as we must, we will be nothing more than enemies to each other, nothing more than another opponent to kill." Draco's voice faltered slightly, and then he whispered, "That is our fate Harry. We can't fight it, we can't defy it. So please, just go, go back to your side, and I'll stay with mine, that is all we can do,"

"No, no," he whispered softly.

Harry's head was shaking, his eyes locked on Draco's. He wouldn't give this up; he had just discovered Draco, and what they had missed out on for so long. He wouldn't give that up, not ever. His hands clutched Draco's shoulders, and then moved all over his chest, running up and down the perfect skin, grazing over the hardened nipples, up the neck, touching his cheek. Harry wanted to see all of him, feel all of him. He was suddenly aware this might be the last time they could be like this. How unfair, the first and last all in one painful blow.

With tears running down his face, Harry leaned up and caught Draco's lips in a desperate kiss, moving his lips slowly against his, etching everything to memory. White hot desire coursed through him, and it took every bit of willpower to remind himself of reality. He broke off and grasped at the other boy's back, burying his face in the crook of Draco's neck. He allowed Draco to comfort him his time, savoring each caress that was shared. Harry pulled back after a while, and the two boys stood slowly form the bed. Harry got dressed, his eyes red and raw, and his heart being broken so quickly after becoming whole.

At last, he picked up his wand and turned to face Draco one last time. He knew they would never be this close or a long time, not until the war was over and if they both survived. His throat ached, and he wanted to say something, he wanted to tell Draco he loved him, and that he knows now he always has. But he couldn't, he only stood there, silently drinking in Draco. He turned away when he couldn't take it anymore, and raised his wand to Apparate back.

"Harry--"

Harry turned back around, to find himself enveloped in the most mind blowing, searing kiss he had ever known. He understood that Draco was pouring every last bit of his love for Harry into that kiss, and Harry did that same. They clung on too each other tightly, and Harry felt the deepest sorrow he would ever feel in his pain-ridden life. Far too soon, it was over and Harry raised his wand once more. He concentrated on the Burrow, and disappeared, Draco's face, gazing tenderly at Harry, was the last clear thing till he was swept away in magical blur.

fin