Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers

It's simple, really. I love J.K. Rowling, and I would never attempt to take any credit for her beautiful characters or stories. I'm just borrowing them, so please don't take offense.

Chapter 7: The Wind That Blew My Heart Away

Draco sighed. Blaise was falling even more in love with Harry as the days passed. Harry was taking it all in stride, but something was different. He didn't touch the Slytherin as much, and he no longer seemed to want him around all the time. He was never mean about it, but there was a distinct vibe in the air when he wanted to be alone with his fellow Gryffindors. Draco felt it, as did everyone else. Everyone except for Blaise. So it fell upon him to make sure that Harry had enough time alone. He would make up excuses about needing help with homework. About wanting Blaise to come along for his Prefect duties. It worked a few times, but then Blaise started making up counter-excuses. Harry could help Draco with his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay; Harry was good at things like that. Draco didn't need help with Prefecting; everyone in the school was afraid of him already.

Harry continued to pull away. As Blaise started to notice, he held on even more stubbornly. It was almost physically painful to watch, like a ship-wreck in slow motion. Draco decided that he needed to have a little talk with Harry. They had exchanged words occasionally, but that didn't really involve more than pleasantries. Neither of them ever mentioned the broom closet and because Draco was trying to ignore his feelings for Harry, he didn't mind. He knew that Potter loved Blaise. But he needed to know how much.

I just don't want Blaise to get hurt.

That's all this is.

I'll need to be prepared if Blaise gets his heart broken.

I have to be there to pick up the pieces.

That's all.

* * *

After dinner one evening, he cornered Harry in the Great Hall.

"Potter, a word."

"What ever about, Lord Malfoy?"

Draco snorted. This was going well. Harry rolled his eyes and started walking away.

"It's about Blaise, Potter. I'll see you on top of the Astronomy Tower tonight at twelve. Be there, if you know what's good for you."

The blonde Slytherin turned and set off for the lake. Now that they had a meeting time, he desperately needed to figure out what he was going to say. What on earth had possessed him to give that location, that time? It was as if he was preparing for some grand seduction. A secret rendez-vous.

But I wouldn't do that to Blaise, he reminded himself firmly.

If that's what you want to believe, the little voice placated him.

He walked twice around the lake and then went back to the Slytherin Common Room to do some homework while he waited. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Finally, at 11:45, he put down his books and headed for the Tower. The butterflies in his stomach wouldn't stop fluttering, and his palms were sweating.

For Blaise.

This is for Blaise.

Only for Blaise.

Not for me.

He opened the door and looked up. Harry was there, waiting for him. For him.

Not for me, he reminded himself.

For Blaise.

Closing the door softly, he walked over to where Harry was sitting on the window ledge. He sat next to him. But the dark-haired Gryffindor didn't look at him. Instead, he started speaking softly.

"When I was small, my relatives kept me in a closet. When I was hurt, they didn't pick me up, and I was always hungry." A pause. "They loved my cousin, though."

Silence.

"I always wondered what it would be like. To be loved. When I came to Hogwarts, I found Ron and Hermione. They love me." Draco waited for him to continue.

"But they should be together. I know that. Sometimes, I don't want them to realise it. Because it means they'll leave me. Not forever, but for a while. I didn't have anyone to love when I was younger. But now there are so many, and I can't choose one. Not just one. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

Harry was looking at him now, questioning. His green eyes were swimming with tears. Draco inhaled sharply. The moonlight made his companion's features soft and his skin glow. His dark hair shone. He looked almost ethereal. Beautiful.

"I was in love with Ginny. Or I thought I was. She broke my heart, Malfoy. I didn't give her enough of myself. I don't want to be hurt again."

"Blaise loves you, Potter." Do you love him?

"I know. I love him, too."

Draco's heart was crushed into millions of little pieces.

"But I'm not in love with him," Harry whispered, desolate, as he turned away.

The quiet confession made Draco's heart whole again.

As whole as it can ever be without him.

Harry looked broken. A tear found its way down his face. Impulsively, stupidly, Draco reached out and wiped it away with his thumb. It hadn't meant anything, but he couldn't make his disobedient hand drop. He wanted to keep touching the shattered boy before him. He wanted to help him. To pick the pieces up and put him back together again. Harry turned his head to look at him again.

"What if I can't ever fall in love for real?" he asked, more tears streaming down his face.

Draco was lost in the depth of his eyes. The shutters were finally open, the defenses down. He felt like he could see Harry's soul. His hands reached out, trying to hold on to something; to stop himself from sliding over the edge. His hands found Harry. Draco pulled the Gryffindor towards him, needing to keep him close, even if it was only for a while. Harry resisted at first, but then it became too much, and he gave in, crying softly against Draco's shoulder. He wasn't making a sound other than the telltale hitch of his breath catching in his chest every time he inhaled, but Draco could feel the hot tears seeping through his shirt. He wrapped his arms around the person sobbing into his shoulder, and he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in Harry's neck and tried to remember how to breathe. He smelled like sunshine and grass. They sat there for over an hour, Draco whispering soothing words and Harry gasping incoherent expressions of pain into his shoulder. When it was over, they broke apart. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco was cradling Harry's cheek with the palm of his hand. He looked into green eyes glazed with tears and felt himself drowning again. Realizing that he didn't really care if he couldn't remember how to swim, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips against Harry's, a tear making its way down his own cheek because he knew that it would stop. It had to. If Blaise knew, his heart would break, and that's why Draco had to let Potter go. Harry pulled away, more tears coursing down his face.

"God, Draco, I can't. I wish I could. But Blaise...You have no idea how you make me feel. I just can't do this to him. I love him," he choked out.

"I know," Draco whispered. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, Harry got up, and Draco looked away. Harry paused, caressing the blonde Slytherin's face with his knuckles.

"I never thought I'd feel this way about you. It's just..."

But he didn't have to say the words, because Draco knew exactly how he felt. Harry smiled sadly, and then he left, smelling like wind and tears and summer.

Draco leaned his head backwards and rested against the wall. He let the tears come.