Songs About Jane...Er, H/D

Maroon 5-- Songs About Jane...er, H/D

I. There’s no way we’re gonna give up

Harry’s getting tired, but he can’t stop. He just can’t.

“Stop,” Draco’s whisper is hoarse. “You just keep going.”

Harry shakes his head and keeps dragging Draco’s half-limp body. “Won’t let you go,” he mumbles.

Draco is getting tired, too-- Harry can sense it, but he won’t stop. He keeps them both going, and soon Draco’s body crumples to the ground and Harry cries out in grief and rage. “NO!” he shouts as Draco pushes him away.

“Just go, you stupid git,” Draco says breathlessly, and Harry can’t. There’s no way he’s going just leave Draco like this. “Harry-- GO.”

Harry is pushed again, more insistently this time. Harry knows Draco is right but he can’t. But then it’s clear to see that Draco’s breathing is slowing, and Harry has to go. He can’t watch Draco die. He just can’t, because that would be giving up.

II. I have no choice cause I won’t say goodbye anymore

Draco watches Harry with that stupid Weaslette and curses the day he ever laid eyes on Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-His-Arse. Of course, it didn’t matter that they were fucking on a continual basis, he was still going to keep his bisexual-ness a secret, right? Because the Wizarding World didn’t want the Boy Wonder to be bi.

Draco mutters under his breath and storms out of the library, glaring at Potter as he walks by and Potter tries to look as cold as Draco does, but there’s sympathy in those emerald eyes and that pisses Draco off even more.

Draco’s tired of saying goodbye at the end of the night and seeing this then having another night of passion and resentment. So, when next he and Potter meet, he’ll say goodbye and mean it.

III. I won’t be satisfied ‘til I’m under your skin

Draco knows why he insults and teases Potter mercilessly. He has to get under gorgeous skin somehow. Seeing that Harry is involved with that stupid bint, Chang right now, this the only way. Seeing Potter’s face flush and his eyes turn hard and cold and fiery at the same time, and seeing him snarl and spit as Draco riles him even more-- it’s heaven. It’s the only way.

Was the only way-- now seeing Harry writhing underneath him, his face flushed for different reasons, his eyes fiery for different reasons-- pleasure, and it’s more blissful than anything. Draco is under Harry’s skin and Harry is under his. And it’s perfect and satisfying.

IV. I know that goodbye means nothing at all

Harry knows when Draco tells him goodbye, that it’s meaningless. He knows everything about Draco and Draco can’t lie very well when it comes to goodbyes. He never could, and Harry doesn’t believe him now. He doesn’t believe it even though Draco’s robes are stained with blood and grime and muck, and his hair is white-blonde with streaks of red and brown and black. He doesn’t believe it even when Draco's mouth is trickling darker red and Draco says goodbye with those red-stained teeth of his again, and Harry won’t believe it. Because he knows goodbye means nothing at all.

V. I don’t know how I got so tangled up

Draco feels like he’s trapped in a spider’s web of deceit and lies and perhaps he is, and Voldemort’s the spider, and he is the struggling insect. Perhaps he should have taken Potter’s offer to become a double agent and perhaps he should have talked to Snape more often, but Snape is dead now because guess what-- he was a double agent. And he got found out. So if Draco had talked to the man more often, perhaps he could have found out sooner and saved him, but he didn’t and now he’s sneaking into the vicinity where Potter is and he’s telling his captors, for he was caught, that he needs to switch sides like Snape did, and they take him to Dumbledore.

He hates the taste of Veritaserum. Even though there’s no taste, officially, he hates it. He hates the feeling of it also, but he has to take it because they don’t believe him, but then they do and he becomes a double agent. Luckily, as he tells Dumbledore, he knows Legilimency and Occlumency and maybe that will save his life. Just as he’s leaving, Potter corners him and kisses him passionately, like they used to at school, and the next thing Draco knows, he is tangled up in Harry and he doesn’t know how it happened, but then, he doesn’t care.

VI. Back and forth and here and gone

Draco is confusing, and Harry can’t figure him out. Oh, he tries, but try as he might, Harry just can't figure Draco out. Sometimes he is there, and sometimes he is not. Sometimes he is here and sometimes he is gone. Sometimes, it’s back and forth, and Harry gets scared that he will stay gone, but he never does. But he never stays for sure, either.

So, Harry stops trying to figure Draco out and just figures that the Slytherin is back and forth and here and gone. Because he is.

VII. Patiently wait to hear the words you’ve never said

Draco is patient. Everyone thinks that he isn’t, but he just tells them to fuck off, because if he isn’t patient, he would have left Harry a long time ago.

“Love you,” Draco says as Harry slips into the bed late at night from Auror work.

“Mmm,” Harry mumbles back as he locks their lips together and Draco complies. Because he is patient.

“Love you,” Draco says as he and Harry prepare to go their separate ways on the battlefield-- Harry’s going for Voldemort and Draco’s going after his aunt for Harry.

Harry doesn’t even say anything, just kisses him briefly and takes off. But Draco is patient so he takes off the opposite way and listens for a maniacal cackle.

“Love you,” Draco whispers against Harry’s temple, which has blood running down it from the duel with Draco’s father. Draco got there just in time, or did he? He killed his father before Lucius could get out the killing curse, but Harry was already hurt and Draco is hurt too, because he is scared.

Harry looks up at him with brilliant eyes-- like a field of rolling, green, fresh grass-- and even though they say it all, Draco's becoming impatient. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry smiles and gurgles somewhat. “L--love you too, Draco.” Then he doesn’t breathe anymore and Draco is no longer patient.

VIII. Change the weather still together when it ends

“It’s storming outside,” Draco mutters. “I hate storms. Rain, I can deal with, but storms. Eurgh.”

Harry shakes his head and smiles. He likes to hear Draco rant, because it’s what Draco does most of the time. It takes getting used to, but he did it and now he thinks it’s cute. Draco rants on about the weather until a sudden flash of lightening accompanied by thunder flashes and roars nearby and sends a not-so-manly-screaming Draco into Harry's lap, and Harry is shocked, then he laughs and wraps his arms around the blonde affectionately.

“Not funny,” he mutters as Harry strokes his back absently and nibbles his ear purposely.

“It is,” Harry mumbles around a mouthful of pale, exquisite neck.

Eventually, they forget about the weather, safe inside the castle of Hogwarts, together. Even when it ends, they will be together.

IX. I know I don’t know you

Draco doesn’t know Harry anymore. He thought he did, once, but after the Weasel died, Harry changed and Draco doesn’t know him anymore. He acts the same around everyone, but he doesn’t around Draco, and Draco doesn’t know what to think. He is still shy and modest, and he still blushes at Draco’s innuendos, but he is rough and raw during sex and Draco doesn’t know Harry anymore. He is detached and even though Draco tries to help, he knows he can’t and he knows-- he just knows, that he doesn’t know Harry anymore, and probably never will again.

X. A simple love with a complex touch

Everyone thinks that Harry and Draco have a complex love. No-- Harry knows that isn’t true. Because their love is simple, now. It was complex, at first, but they grew out of all the bickering and continuous fights and now it’s simple and clean. It’s perfect in some ways, and full of flaws in others, but it’s not complex.

Most of the times their touches are, though. A fleeting brush of hands there, a quick squeeze here, or a lingering kiss filled with promises of a night filled with pleasure. They have simple love with a complex touch, because sometimes, that’s all it can be.

XI. To say these things that I don’t want to say

Draco doesn’t want to tell this to Harry, because Harry won’t understand. Harry doesn’t understand anything these days, because how could he when everyone around him is dying or hurt or gone without being dead? How can Harry understand that Draco wants him-- wants to touch him, to comfort him, to love him, even though the Mark on his arm burns fiercer than anything he’s ever felt?

Draco wants to tell him things that only a lover could. Draco wants to whisper things in Harry’s ear that make him blush like he used to around his friends, things that a Malfoy would never dream of saying. Draco wants to say all the things he doesn’t want to say, because he wants Harry and no one else. Because Draco is contradictory, and the Mark on his arm and his love for Harry proves it.

XII. Give me the sweetest goodbye that I ever did receive

Harry wonders how he ever managed to do it. How could he have looked into Draco’s silver eyes and whispered the final two words the blonde would ever hear. How before all that, they used to look into each other’s eyes and feel and know the love there, and how after all that but before all this, Draco was dying because of his own aunt’s curse and asked Harry to kiss him once more and give him the sweetest goodbye he ever did receive. How could Harry have kissed Draco's trembling lips and taste their salty tears that mingled-- the grief and anger welling up inside of him made him cry too-- and then step back and whisper two words that not only were the last words that Draco Lucius Malfoy heard, but the last words that Harry would ever hear also, because at the end of it all, Harry survived, yes, but those words, in his own voice, were the only things Harry heard for the rest of his life. Because Draco got the sweetest goodbye, but Harry got the bitterness of it.