The Hardest Thing

There's nothing much to say, except that it's just my first time, that I hope you'll like this fic, and review it as well.

Oh, and before I forget, Harry/Draco is actually one of my favourite ships, so if you don't like slash, you might as well skip this.

Big thanks to Cle and Erin for the beta-read. Owe you a lot! ^_^

Dedicated to Anna, who had been a good listener; to Tricia, (hope to cheer you up) who can probably relate; to Cle and Erin, who did the beta-read for this; and to Cris, who gave me the idea to write the fic below.

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The Hardest Thing

Draco entered the living room of their house silently, and looked around. Nothing had changed much since he left three months ago. The window placed on the north wall overlooked the view outside, vast grass fields looking like a huge green blanket draped over hills with hints of yellow across it. The sun glittered in the sky, sending a generous amount of sunlight splashing into the room. His eyes searched for a familiar, untidy sprawl of jet-black hair and saw its owner sitting on a comfortable-looking chair near the fireplace, reading a book.

Draco took a deep breath and walked as noiselessly as possible across the room towards him, and stopping a few feet away. "Potter," he drawled out.

Harry looked up to see Draco watching him with his slate-gray eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat, feeling a familiar emotion deep in him as he looked right into Draco's eyes, those eyes that he so vividly remembered gazing into just three months ago. "Draco," he breathed, relief passing through him, "you're back." He stood up and started towards him.

At that instant Draco held his hand out to stop him. "Don't." His voice lingered with indifference, holding so much coldness that it seemed to slice right through Harry's soul. Immediately Harry stayed rooted to his spot, unable to hide his astonishment. He watched Draco, a feeling of apprehension and hurt washing over him, confusion filling his mind. There was something strangely different in Draco's actions. Something had definitely changed.

Draco saw the swift change of emotion in Harry's eyes, like liquid that flowed and drained in a space of a heartbeat. It hurt him immensely, to look at Harry like that, when he looked so helpless, so vulnerable. Immediately he wanted to take back the words he just said and hold Harry in his arms, feeling that warmth back in him... But he couldn't...

Harry tried to look firm, but inside felt as if just the ice-cold tone of Draco's voice was enough to numb his senses. Three months ago he had known Draco so well; but now, he was... different. In the last three months that Draco had been away, he had constantly been missing Draco; for three months he had waited for him, to take him in his arms, to be in the familiar comfort that was Draco. Now that he came back, it was... strangely confusing. He was happy to see Draco back, but with this strange, bizarre change in Draco made him feel like Draco wasn't even there at all. "What happened to you?" he wanted to ask, but was unable to speak. His throat seemed constricted; he couldn't take in air, rendering him speechless. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried again. "What happened to you?" he asked weakly, gazing into the other boy's eyes.

Draco felt Harry's eyes on him, and when he looked up, he saw those emerald orbs shining with hurt and uncertainty. He looked away, guilt sweeping over him. He knew Harry fairly well, and he knew that the other boy wasn't exactly capable of hiding his feelings. His face betrayed what he was feeling inside, and Draco detested every moment of it.

Harry saw Draco look away, and felt his muscles tense, not in anger, but in frustration. What was wrong with him?

Draco ran a hand through his silvery blonde hair, feeling some of his nervousness ebb away. He needed to do this. Fast. "Nothing happened to me," he answered in a dead, hollow sort of voice. "What's wrong, Potter? Notice something else?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, and almost instantly he felt that twinge of pain that continuously tore through him, like a knife that sliced open through his flesh, twisting deeper. He tried to retort, but felt weak otherwise. He couldn't take it anymore. "Potter?" He narrowed his eyes, emerald turning into an even darker shade of green with anger and hurt. "I don't get this. Just three months ago, I thought we were..." his voice trailed off, his words left hanging mid-air.

Draco looked at him defiantly, ignoring the loud thumping of his heart. "That was back then," he gestured with a sweeping hand. "This is now." He gave him a sidelong look. "I thought you know me better than that."

Harry swallowed hard as painful realisation dawned on him, hitting him like a ton of bricks. "You're right. I thought I did. But obviously you've changed." He paused. "I don't know you anymore."

Tension filled the air, and Draco saw Harry bite his lip thoughtfully, looking miserable, his eyes averted away from him. Draco knew he had hurt Harry, and tried to convince himself that it was all for the best, but that didn't give him any consolation. He knew what he had to do, he knew it was going to be hard, but he didn't expect that it was going to bother him so much. He was used to feeling indifferent; that was how he was raised by his father. At the back of his mind, he heard his father's voice, saying, To survive in this life you do not show your true feelings. Feelings are your weakness, and to live, you should be able to conceal them and remain indifferent. To prove his point to Draco, his father slapped him, and then threw him across the room. He would not stop, not until Draco learned how to hide his feelings, learned to mask the pain he was feeling then, and not to cry when he felt the pain. Draco shuddered involuntarily as he remembered how agonizing it was, with every blow and harsh word left imprinted in his mind, like a phantom materializing in nightmares, completely searing, until his senses became numb from the blows his father had inflicted upon him.

But this was different. This involves his love, his life. He knew all too well how it was to love somebody like Harry. There was nobody quite like him. Harry had stayed with him for five years, and he knew that Draco loved him, as much as he loved Harry; perhaps even more so. He felt it - every time they kissed, and made love - that intense emotion, fiercely loyal, feelings raw and painful laid bare that it hurt him just to feel it like that. To just leave and pretend that nothing happened, that those five years were just a complete waste, added up to the pain he was feeling inside, scorching his soul and burns a gaping hole inside his heart.

Harry tried to decipher Draco's feelings, but couldn't. He was vaguely aware of the tears that filled his eyes. He felt hurt, confused, torn. He closed his eyes, and prayed that this was just a bad dream, an altogether vivid and surreal nightmare awakening deep from within his subconscious, and he was going to wake up any minute now. But it was no use. This was no dream.

Harry drew a deep breath and looked up to see Draco staring at him, unnamed emotions reflecting in his gray eyes, and Harry felt a surge of hope inside him, but then in a space of a heartbeat, it was gone, and everything came crashing down instantly. It was so fast, a brief motion, which he would have missed if he had blinked. This made him confused, and as he looked up again, his eyes were now devoid of emotion. Stoic. Blank. It was like looking in a dark and endless well, infinite coldness suspended in the silver fluid around the pupils. He felt that slight pang of ache again; as he still remembered how his eyes looked real just three months ago, silver shining with love, desire and passion all too beautiful and heartbreakingly painful at the same time. It can't be... He couldn't just throw it all away, could he?

Harry cleared his throat and tried to break the tense silence that was hovering between them. He walked a few tentative steps toward Draco, and saw that he did not react, walked until they were face to face. It was easy to look at him; they were of the same height and build, but counting the situation between them, it was going to be a hard one. How ironic, he thought bitterly. Last time we were this close we couldn't get enough of each other. Now that you're just a kiss away, all I can see is the space between us. "I don't know what happened to you since you left three months ago," he said softly, looking at Draco straight in the eye. "Hell, I don't even know where you went. You didn't even bother to send an owl to me, so pardon me if I don't know anything about you anymore, because frankly, this is hard for me." 

Draco narrowed his eyes until they were reduced to silver slits. "Not everything's about you, Harry! You think everything's easy on me? Don't you think that while you're here, living comfortably on your own, I'm out there, breathing hard, living every waking minute of every day like hell?" Draco snapped, his voice full of fury and resentment. "You don't know what happened, Potter, so stop fussing over things you don't know anything about."

"Please, Draco, all I'm asking is to know what happened to you. I need to know. Damn, I have the right to know," Harry said firmly, his voice laced with an imperceptible desperation and urgency.

Draco pulled the sleeves of his robes and showed Harry his forearm, bearing the Dark Mark. Draco saw Harry shudder involuntarily, and Draco wanted to hug him, but resisted the urge to do so. "This is what happened," he said quietly.

Harry froze. He stared at the Dark Mark, which was imprinted heavily on Draco's forearm, a bold indication of his loyalty to the Dark Lord, and back at Draco's face, the face which he had longed to see and to hold, the owner of which he had loved for so many years. Naturally he should hate Draco for betraying him, for choosing Voldemort over him, but couldn't bring himself to feel that way. His mind was whirring; all those years with him, his love for him, everything was just a joke. But a part of him didn't want to believe it. After all, why had Draco stayed with him for five years, if not for his love for him? Why couldn't he have killed him when he had the chance to do so?

"That's not true." Harry gazed at Draco resolutely. "It isn't."

Draco held his gaze levelly. It took him a lot of effort not to lose himself to the emerald spheres that were piercing into him. "Don't start telling me what's true and what's not. I showed you what you wanted to see, and you've seen it with your eyes." He paused. "Snap back to reality, and believe it."

Harry cringed inwardly as he heard Draco's voice; full of contempt, bitter, cold. He felt alone, suddenly, and he wished to see Draco back to his old self, wishing of the old days before, when everything was simple, when they were just loving each other, a connection so strong that it was impossible to break it all down. He ached for his love, his touch, his kisses fiery and entrancing. He yearned to tangle his fingers across Draco's silvery blonde hair, longed to kiss him and hold him in his arms. He knew what he wanted to believe, and he was going to hold onto it, no matter what happens.

"I don't want to. And nothing you're going to say is going to make me believe it." Harry's voice was steady, sounding as if he was sure of himself.

"Dream all you want. I've given you the truth, and you choose to leave it." Draco replied. "You better believe it, or else you'll end up hurting yourself even more." Deep within him he was amazed at Harry's faith in him. He had known how loyal Harry can be, but he didn't know he was this loyal; so fierce, so intense. He felt another dull ache settle somewhere in his heart, but decided to ignore it. He knew it was only going to make things harder for him.

Harry eyed him carefully, his eyes a shining shade of green. "You've changed," he whispered. "What's gotten into you? God, Draco, please, just tell me..."

"I've changed?" Draco cut in, his tone ice-cold. "How can I not change? Let me tell you, Harry. I've been away for three months, and in those three months I've been through so much torture and pain, wondering why I even bothered to be with you, when I thought that everything was going to be okay with us, but clearly it isn't, because for the matter that it just isn't. I'm a Malfoy, and you can't change the fact that evil blood runs through my veins, and even if you did, you can't. I have to serve the Dark Lord, and if serving him means leaving you, then I will." Draco's eyes sparked with vivid anger. He gazed around for a while, then murmured, "Look at this." Spying a beetle crawling across the floor, he immediately groped for his wand at the pockets of his robes and muttered, "Avada Kedavra." Simultaneously a flash of green light sparked from his wand, hitting the beetle. It twitched visibly, and then after a few heartbeats, it lay lifeless. Draco gazed at Harry, his face set.

Harry saw what Draco had done, and was too shocked to say anything. He stood there, gaping at Draco, then looked back at the beetle, which now lay dead on the carpeted floor. He couldn't quite believe that Draco, the Draco he knew and he loved before, was able to do it. He knew he did this to prove his point, and a fresh new emotion, not quite like anger, something in between desperation and urgency, welled up inside him. "If I have to live this life without you, you might as well kill me. You know I can't live without you," he paused, fighting back the tears that were welling up from his eyes. "I love you." In these quiet words Harry spoke the truth. He knew right from the start that he was living because of Draco. Draco was his life, the one he was breathing for. What would life be worth for if it were not for him?

Harry's words struck a chord inside him, igniting the fuel of passion in his heart, causing it to burn effortlessly. Try as he might he knew he can't not love Harry. But he also knew what he had to do, and he has to do it, whether he wants to do it or not. There was no turning back. With a heavy weight in his heart, his voice - carefully measured, yet bitter and icy - said, "For the last time, Potter, I'm telling you. Forget everything that happened." He held Harry's chin so he would be able to look him right in the eye. "I don't love you."

Draco drew his hand back, then looked away, afraid of what he might see in those verdant eyes. And with the briefest of nods, he turned and stalked off, leaving Harry's shocked expression behind.

Harry stayed rooted to his spot. He couldn't move. I don't love you. Draco's words stung him, like white-hot pain seeping through his veins, throbbing with every heartbeat, every pulse carrying the pain, like poison slowly penetrating his broken heart. Instantly he broke down, collapsing into a crumpled heap on the floor, sobbing unrestrainedly as he felt mixed emotions sweep over him - anguish, torment, agony, desperation. Everything came falling apart, and the more he cried, the more that he remembered all the memories he has of him, his silver eyes, his smile, his smooth, silvery blonde hair... he was gone... forever. He had loved Draco so much, to the extent that he had loved him without leaving some of that love for himself, and now that in the end, Draco did not love him... it's just too painful to even think about. Bitter regret and disappointment were the harsh slap for him, and now he had to face that cruel reality alone.

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Draco walked outside and closed the front door firmly behind him. He leaned back, feeling rather dazed. I don't love you. It hurt him so much to say those words, felt his own heart breaking as he said them, because he knew he was lying. Throughout his life he had known that he would be always there for Harry, to love him with all the love his heart could hold. But he couldn't love him. He had to do his father's will, and, to leave and pretend that he never loved Harry was the hardest thing he had to do. He felt angry at the world for making him a Malfoy, and he hated himself for loving Harry that way.

Loving Harry was one of the best things that happened to him. Harry had taught him a lot about living and loving, and those times that they were together would stay with him forever. Deep in his heart he wanted Harry so badly, yearned for him, to feel his warmth around him, hugging him like a safety blanket in the storm. Right now he wanted to go back in and hug Harry and kiss him again and again, until he could take his sorrows away, and love him again, and then everything would be okay. He wanted to feel the sweetness that was Harry, and then to be able to tell him that he loves him and will forever be in loved with him.

But I can't, he thought. I just have to let you go. You deserve someone else - someone better.

"I love you, Harry. I had been, and will always. I'm sorry," he whispered.

There was nothing else he could do. Slowly he straightened up, and with a last fleeting look at the house, turned and walked away, dimly aware of tears pouring like torrents of crystals dropping one by one on the ground.