Broken Ice

Author's notes: This is a slash so don't read it unless you like that kind of thing. Cheers.

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The moon was full that night, and the breeze was sharp with the smell of incoming snow. It rustled the treetops of the forbidden forest and the long grass of the ground far, far below.
Draco sighed in a thoughtful way. His pale skin was highlighted in the moonlight and his hair swept untidily across his forehead as he stood on the balcony.
He had dispensed with the lumbering buffoons, Crabbe and Goyle, to be on his own. The two were as thick as a plank of wood anyway, and no good at conversations unless they were being talked at, so that all they had to do was nod and mindlessly agree. He was always on his own, he had noticed, even when in the middle of a crowd. Even in the consistent chattering, gibbering and gossip of the Slytherin housemates, was never truly enthralled or interested in what they had to say. Each one of them was on their own, in one way or another. The Slytherin house was not a place to make friends. Associates, sometimes, but none of them could be truly trusted and none of them…seemed to understand him.
He sat on the stone parapet, looking out into the countryside but not really seeing any of it.
There was something missing from his life. He had always felt it. Years ago, at home, learning the basics of reading and writing from his tutors with his father looking on with a frozen smile, he had felt it. Running around Knockturn alley, amazed by the bizarre people and decaying relics on display and being scolded by his mother for not behaving, he had felt it. He didn't understand his parents. Maybe that was part of what was missing from him. They seemed to live in their own separate worlds, his father consumed by greed and his mother by snobbery.
Draco's expression softened. He felt…sad. It came and went every now and then and he wondered vaguely if there was a depression seeping into him.
Reason came into play, as it always did at this point. Why would he be depressed? He had a wonderful home, plenty of money, he was the envy of half the school and the centre of the Slytherins attention. He enjoyed all those times when he got people from other houses into trouble, sadistic though it was, and he merely had to wave his hand to get his way from his father…
That is not everything, said another voice. What about happiness? Does money buy you this? Or students give it to you?
For a time, said Draco. And then…
And then? said the voice.
It goes as quickly as it came. It isn't really happiness, I know. It's a false reality which I live in and lie to myself, calling it fun and happiness and …
And?
There is still something missing.
You haven't mentioned love.
Draco screwed up his face as he thought of this word.
Love? He thought bitterly. It's just a word. It doesn't exist.
Really? Your heart and expression say otherwise. There is your family, and that one you care about-
"No I don't!" he said aloud, but even as the words left his lips he knew he was lying to the world and himself.
His breathing quickened and his chest tightened as the name raced across his mind.
"But he thinks I hate him. And I do!" he stopped. "Don't I?"
Or have I always felt that I should hate him? Had our first meeting not been so bad, and I not so nasty in the dress shop, we may have been friends, at least. But father would have hated that. I, a Malfoy, a son of his, be friends with Harry Potter, born of a mudblood mother. He would have made me compete with Harry, anyway. Draco rolled his eyes. God, he does it now and I don't even notice it. All those stories about Harry and his family, I bet half of them aren't even true. Or if they are, then hugely biased. Why do I lap up everything father says? He must think I'm so gullible. And…I suppose I am, to have only just realized it now.
Draco turned and walked through the doors, shutting them behind him.
He wandered through the castle, down to the dungeons and walked into his dorm room without speaking to any of the Slytherins still up at this hour.
He undressed, putting on pyjama trousers and collapsed on the bed with a sigh.
And I can't say a thing Harry. I don't know what to say. I hate you - you're everything my father wanted me to be and you are everything I want.
Draco buried his face in his pillow.
Why am I so damn cold to everyone and everything? If I opened up, told someone, anyone what I really thought about things, how I felt…he shook his head. They would never understand. How a boy so full of hate and spite and cruelty…didn't really want any of it.
Thoughts became jumbled as sleep crept upon him.
I hate the life I lead. I'm so alone. I want to be with you, but…you hate me, don't you Harry? You hate the skinny little boy in green and silver who slinks after you, misbehaves in you favourite lessons, takes the piss so frequently. And I hate you too. But how can I hate something I love so?
He fell into a fitful sleep.

Last lesson of the next day, Draco scowled at the heroic trio as they left the defense against the dark arts classroom. He could almost see the halos above their heads and hear the cheering of the Gryffindors.
Crabbe nudged him.
'Just leave me! I'll be there soon enough,' he snapped at the round boy. Crabbe shrugged and he and Goyle left.
I wonder what they talk about when I'm not there, wondered Draco. Me? Food? Lessons? I suppose that's all their minds could cope with at once.
Draco waited until the classroom was empty and sighed peacefully. Alone, truly alone. He pulled a letter from his family from his folder and began to read. It was several pages long, as his mother had considerately included her every action at all the meetings and parties she had been to, and all the snide comments, 'and you'll never believe what she was wearing!' which were so ridiculous and petty he couldn't help but laugh. It was hard believe that she took all of this seriously. The last page was written by his father and the sharp, slanted handwriting suited him and his cold manner as well as if he had been there.
Someone knocked on the door.
Draco looked up and realized it was dark. He must have been sat, reading and contemplating for several hours and not noticed it.
It was Harry. He threw Draco a dirty look when he saw who it was sat in the darkness.
They had known each other for several years now, and although not friends, had grown to know some of their actions. Draco gave his famous sneer and in a grand sweeping movement put all the papers into his bag.
"And what do you want, Potter?"
"Nothing from you, I assure you," came the equally snide reply. But something was…different about Harry. He seemed a little tense about being alone in a room with his enemy.
Can I blame him? After the nasty bastard I've been all these years? Not that he's been particularly nice to me, but still…
Draco watched him as he walked to the bench where he had been, searching for something he had obviously left behind.
"Aren't your sidekicks around to help you fetch your stuff?" said Draco as he walked to the door.
Harry stiffened and turned to glare at him
"Just go Draco. I don't want to know what you were doing here on your own in the darkness but -"
"How dare you!" yelled Draco, turning pink as pride flared up, "have some decency for God's sake."
"I didn't actually say anything you bloody ferret," Harry shouted in reply, storming up to Draco as if to hit him.
But then they stopped. Each had fury written across his face but neither moved. Draco became uncertain of what was on Harry's mind.
Oh God I hope he doesn't hit me, I couldn't stand to fight him - I don't think I could bring myself to try and hurt him. I don't want to fight you Harry. I still hate you and I'm furious at you but I can't fight because I…If asked to either to kill or have you, I'd have to say - I want you more.
He couldn't resist. Draco grabbed the boy aggressively, pulling him to him and kissed him. Unable to stop himself, his hand grabbed Harry's arse and ran a rough hand down his thigh. He kissed frostily, fiercely, all his emotion was behind the kiss, urging him on and he was wild with anger, love and pure energy.
Draco was ice. He was cold, harsh and sharp in his heart and this traveled to his lips and the kiss. But - he was so shocked by this he almost pulled away - Harry was kissing him back, grabbing the back of his neck, not wanting this to end. His mouth was begging for this to go on. So this was what Harry had wanted too, then. What he had secretly always wanted. Draco may have been the ice but Harry was the fire - burning, insistent, red hot on his lips. Through Harry's chest he could feel the boy's heartbeat and the quickening of his pulse as ecstasy rushed through him. His heaving melted the icy chill in Draco and urged him on. They were unable to let go of each other, locked in a moment of passion and pure rapture.
Harry was pressed hard against the doorframe by Draco's torso, one leg entwined with his. The kiss was an eternity - he hated, detested, loathed this - extraordinary, beautiful boy, who was full of fire and a passion for life. He was all the things Draco was not, and could never be. He wanted it all - but it wasn't jealousy. He wanted Harry to be his, to be with him forever. Draco needed him.
A light to his darkness, as the moon is to the night sky - I need the light. I can't let him go. Not now. Not ever. I need him.
As soon as this thought revealed itself to Draco, something in him melted. As if someone has found the core of his misery and cold-heartedness - and shattered it all. He let out a cry, a shattered sob, reeling away from Harry. Harry's face was flushed and his warm lips cried out for more - but Draco did not see this. The boy pushed himself from Harry's embrace, unseeing as tears of years of sorrow and regret came to his eyes, unbidden. He turned to the silent classroom and fell to his knees.
Harry rushed over, unsure. But Draco couldn't stop. Flushing red from shedding such childish tears, he turned his head away, pride still reigning over all emotions. But Harry knelt by him. Saying nothing, he put an arm around the slim boy's shoulders and rested his chin gently on his head. Stroking that silver hair, he said nothing. But he knew that being there, not laughing or mocking Draco's pride as he and the others usually would have done, but supporting him, was enough.
Draco's mind was flooded. He had a little hope now, more than he had ever had. His father did not matter now. He wasn't here - nor his sneering, snob of a mother, the snake-eyed slytherins of his house. There was a light at the narrow, twisted tunnel that was his life. Why should he follow his father's footsteps?
He loved his family dearly, and family pride was important. But…
"If that is all there is…" he whispered, "I wouldn't care if I never saw them again. They take pride in a son they do not even know. They are proud of a fake, an actor - a puppet of whom they hold the strings. They are proud because I am the next Malfoy, the next son to lead to line, to uphold their great name, not because I am their child. I have to…be a son…they can be proud of… But-"
Another shattered sob.
"-It's not me!" he cried, "I hate what I am! I - I- "
"Shhh," whispered Harry, draping his arms around the pale boys neck, rubbing his cheek against Draco's tear stained one.
"You must hate me," Draco whispered. "All the others do. I can feel it. The Slytherins, my own damn father would were he not so proud…why do I act for them? It made me what I …" he shook his head, "no I can't blame them for this. I did this to myself."
"You did what you thought was best," replied the raven-haired boy. "You shouldn't let your father live through you. You acted selflessly, on the whole. All the years I've known you, and seen how you…you'll end up like him, eventually. Is that what you really want?"
"NO!" yelled the tearful boy, with such force and malice that Harry jumped back. Draco angrily wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and flung the tears in the darkness. He stood, his tall slim frame illuminated by the moon. He turned, tears still crystallized on his cheeks and studied Harry's face with curiosity.
"I am made of darkness, Harry," he said seriously. "Have always been so…I'm like ice - cold and cruel and full of the malevolence of my forefathers." He leaned down so that his face was mere inches from Harry's. A single tear rolled off his cheek onto Harry's glasses as he turned upwards.
'Do you really want to be a part of that? To be frozen, like me, in the ice of my own damn mind?"
Harry stood slowly, and surprising Draco for the thousandth time, carefully reached out and wiped away the last of Draco's tears. He took Draco's pale hands in his.
"I already am. I was, all those years ago, entranced by the fierce silver angel who refused to warm to anybody. I think I always, even when I was just little boy, had some desire of this, deep in my heart, though I didn't fully understand it. If you are the darkness, Draco, then I hope I may be your guiding light. And to the ice -"
"-My fire." Some of the old twinkling had come back to Draco's eyes and there was a gentle smile on his lips Harry had never seen before.
'But I don't want your light to go out, be snuffed out by my darkness. You are the beacon of this castle, their 'hero' and knight in shining armour, Harry. 'The boy who lived'. You are their guide in these dark times."
Harry shook his head gently.
"I am no hero. I'm just a boy." Draco raised a slender eyebrow to this. "I am not here for them. I will win that battle against the great darkness of Lord Voldemort, but not on my own. There will be others, who have a light of their own. But mine-"
He stroked Draco's cheek, 'is there to guide you.'
Draco leant forward and kissed Harry. This time the kiss was calm and soft as twilight.