Realities

Realities

by maladict

Draco loved the smell of rain. On those cold fresh mornings he would relinquish the warmth of the castle and step out into the air, relishing the transient quality of the world newly cleansed. And it would be enough for him. This small pleasure that could tide him over the terminal emptiness or possibly fullness of his life in this moment. Eking out an existence on the fringe of all of his separate lives and hoping that no one ever found out.

He hated the smell of fear. Fear was a luxury that Draco could rarely afford. And there were so many uncertainties along every path that Draco followed.

Was there a point? When Draco's biggest fear was Harry's eyes and they were unavoidable.

Draco felt comfortable on the borders. That was where he felt he belonged. Skirting round the edges, occasionally setting himself in opposition but never, never tangling himself into the centre. So how had his well-lain precautions backfired?

As always this story starts with Harry. As always this story ends with Harry. And in between nothing makes any sense. Except that it couldn't have happened any other way.

There was a boy. His name was Harry Potter. He had dark hair, green eyes and a scar in the centre of his forehead...

***

Harry had chosen exactly the wrong time, when Draco was at his weakest, to attack him with his strongest weapon. Kindness. And Draco had been in free fall for a week. A free fall that had many foreseeable ends and none of them were particularly pretty.

Worst of all was the want. He would find himself going out of his way to jostle against Harry in the halls, to catch the burn of soft skin and that scent of musk which would linger in his senses for the rest of the day.

Oh, and how he hated this. He needed to see Harry, he needed to fucking punch Harry, he needed to kiss him until the realities of this world fell away.

And as everyone knew, whatever Draco wanted, Draco got. Whatever Draco needed, Draco took. Most of the time people weren't stupid enough to stand in his way.

It was late and the stone of the seventh floor was starting to get very cold. Draco cursed. If Potter didn't come, then heaven help him, Draco would make him pay.

Draco's ears caught a soft noise and his head shot up, scanning the hall for any sign of movement. There was a ripple, as if space was folding in on itself, and Harry appeared looking tousled and a little apprehensive.

Getting to his feet, Draco met Harry's eye for the first time in a week. Sapphire and emerald; and Draco was forced to drag his gaze away.

"Draco," Harry said by way of greeting.

"Harry."

"I got your note," Harry said uncomfortably when Draco did not continue.

Draco bit his lip, his eyes narrowing. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he said softly.

Harry blinked, not quite looking at Draco as he answered. "I did."

"Yes, I can see that," Draco said and immediately regretted the sarcastic tone of his voice. To his relief, Harry pretended not to notice.

A puzzled frown flitted for a second on Harry's brow. "Why here?" Harry's eyes were on the blank wall behind Draco. They lingered a second... two... and then those eyes were back on him.

Draco remained quiet.

Harry's glance flicked back to the wall briefly before he turned back to Draco and something in the set of his shoulders warned Draco of trouble. "Are you going to take the Mark, Draco?"

Draco flinched and stepped angrily towards Harry. "That isn't what I asked you here to talk about."

Harry didn't back off. He calmly folded his arms and surveyed Draco with cool eyes. "What did you ask me here for?"

Draco scowled. "Because I want to punch you."

To Draco's immense annoyance, Harry was unruffled. "Oh. Are you going to?"

"Maybe. I don't know." In the soft torch light of the evening, Draco refused to admit that he also wanted to kiss the green-eyed boy.

"So... do you want to talk about how you want to punch me?" Harry asked slowly, and if that was a smirk on his lips then Draco was going to punch him. And he would be perfectly justified in doing so.

"No," Draco said angrily. "I want to... I want you to stop..."

"Stop what?" Harry prompted, a cute furrow appearing unhelpfully on his brow.

"...stop being so..." ...sexy, infuriating, irresistible. Draco looked at him helplessly. "I just can't stop thinking about..." He trailed off, suddenly afraid of the many ways in which that sentence could end.

Harry was silent for a moment before he dropped his eyes to the floor. "I know. Me either."

Oh, if only Draco could touch him. The need burned.

Harry's gaze returned to the wall and Draco wished that he could see though it, wished he could read Draco's mind, wished he would take Draco by the hand and stop fate from Coming. Ever. Closer.

Turning back, Harry held out a hand to Draco. "Come on," he said.

Draco paused. "Harry, I..." Looking up, Draco could tell that Harry was reading him by the dim light. Draco wished he knew what Harry could see.

Harry quietly closed the distance between them. He reached up and draped the reality warping fabric over his head and across his shoulders before pulling Draco in beside him under the Cloak. Harry's hand brushed his and Draco closed his eyes. Warm breath in the silence and god, Harry smelt so good.

"Shall we take a walk?" And Draco was not too distracted to notice that Harry's voice shook just a little.

It was awkward at first until they found a rhythm and then they moved in tandem together and Draco could feel the heat of him, under his skin. Harry led the way and they were nearing the Great Hall when he stopped and quicksilver fast turned to pull Draco to the wall. For a split second green fire flashed in his vision before Harry looked away, his breathing a touch unsteady.

"Mrs. Norris," he whispered, his gaze focusing somewhere between Draco's shoulder and his throat.

"Ah," Draco managed, trying to suppress the heat that flared in his body, his desire to burn and to make Harry feel it. Draco had no idea how long they stood there, barely daring to breathe. It seemed an eternity.

"She's gone," Harry said eventually.

Harry stopped for a moment, not quite looking at him, his head tilted slightly to the side. Draco held himself very still as every heartbeat focused in on this moment. He could nearly taste the shape of Harry's lips.

Harry moved away a fraction and Draco almost ached with disappointment. "Let's go," Harry said softly, still avoiding Draco's eyes.

"Where exactly are we going?" Draco asked as soon as he trusted himself enough to speak.

A brief smile caught on Harry's lips and flicked to his eyes. "You'll see."

Draco was surprised to see how light it was as Harry pushed them through one of the many side exits from the castle.

"The moon's out," he said almost breathlessly as he looked up at the stars. The night sky was not something he often got to see during school term.

"Mmm," Harry murmured in agreement, following his gaze. He lifted his hand and the Cloak came tumbling from their shoulders. "We shouldn't need this anymore." He moved to stand at an appropriate distance and Draco felt the loss of his warmth like a chill breeze.

Draco followed Harry to a rich, green glade at the edge of the forest, small white flowers glowed in the gentle light and trees swayed in the cool night air. Harry moved to the large rock in the centre of the glade and sat, resting back against the mossy surface.

"These are Phoieba, night bloomers that glow only in the full moon," Harry said as Draco came to join him, purposefully sitting at a safe distance from the tempting warmth of the other boy.

"They are beautiful," Draco replied, refusing to let himself meet Harry's eyes. They quieted for a time, absorbing the magic of the place as the night sounds of the Forbidden Forest textured the atmosphere.

Draco realised with a painful jolt that this might be the last peaceful moment he would be able to share with Harry. He frowned. Imminent partings shadowed this hour and Draco was the only one who could see them.

"Draco," Harry said, his eyes shaded by a fringe of dark hair. "You are not the only one who is afraid."

"I know." Draco plucked a white bud and watched as the soft glow leached from it slowly and the bloom wilted away into the dark. "But that doesn't make the fear any easier."

Dark lashes flickered at him and Draco didn't need to see Harry's eyes to know that they had darkened. "Are you going to take the Mark, Draco?"

Discarding the shriveled flower, Draco pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them. "I'm not sure that I can answer that."

Draco heard Harry make an impatient noise and within a second his arm was grabbed and fingers stroked lightly over his right forearm. "I don't want you to be Marked, Draco." That hand stroked again over his skin, this time a little more firmly and Draco didn't have the strength of will to pull away.

"What if I have no choice? What if..."

"There is always a choice, Draco. Always."

Draco pulled away suddenly and pushed Harry from him. "No there isn't," he said angrily. "If I had a choice I'd be willing to follow Voldemort, I'd be happy to take the Mark and do as my father wishes. If I had a choice I wouldn't be here with you tonight."

"Bullshit, you only believe that because you are too afraid to go against your father's wishes and reject Voldemort. If you had courage you would-"

"If I had courage I would follow my father's wishes without fear. And I would do so proudly," Draco spat out, his heart twisting as Harry flinched.

"So you believe that?" Harry asked in a soft voice. "You believe all that stuff about Mudbloods and Muggles?"

"I..." Draco faltered as light struck Harry's face and painted his features in subtle anguish. "No, I don't. But I do wish I could be what my father wanted."

"Really?" Harry shook hair out of his eyes in a gesture that almost appeared to be casual. "I don't have any desire to be like mine."

"Why not? I thought your father was all goodness and light. That you would have given anything to grow up with him and follow in his gloried footsteps."

Staring into the distance an unreadable expression passed across Harry's face. "So did I, once. But not anymore. My father was not a man that I would look up to."

"And do you think," Draco weighed his words deliberately, "if he were alive today, that you would have the courage to face him?"

"I would like to think that I would. I would like to think that my mother was more important to me than my father."

"My mother is more important to me. That's why I can't-" Draco broke off and bit his lip.

"Can't what?"

"Nevermind," Draco said a little more sharply than he'd meant to.

Pulling off his glasses, Harry rubbed his eyes with a finger and thumb. "Alright, let's drop it. I didn't bring you out here to argue."

"What did you bring me out here for?" Draco asked, echoing a question Harry had given earlier this evening.

Harry pushed his glasses back on and stood. "Look, if you'd rather-"

Grabbing Harry's arm, Draco pulled him back down. "I wouldn't. I'm sorry. I guess I just don't quite know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Say goodbye."

"Oh." And Harry's eyes were glistening and Draco couldn't look away. He reached forward and stroked his thumb softly over Harry's lower lip.

"I've got a pretty good idea of how I'd like to say goodbye," Draco whispered. "Except there is a million reasons why I shouldn't and one of them is the pure agony I feel whenever you look at me. You are the only one who can do this to me and I hate it. I hate you."

"Do you?"

"No. Yes. No."

Harry smiled. "That's a complicated answer."

"It's a complicated question."

"Perhaps," Harry said quietly as he leant forward and touched his fingers lightly down the side of Draco's face.

Draco swallowed. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

"No, it's a terrible idea. Are you going to let that stop you?"

"I wish I could." Draco let himself fall into Harry's eyes, catching himself with his hands as his lips glanced against Harry's. This kiss was nothing like their first, with Harry's soft mouth barely touching his. Harry sent vibrant warmth though his body with subtle tastes of his tongue and Draco trembled as the kiss deepened and Harry drew him down.

Down and down, they travelled, into depths that Draco barely even knew existed and Draco lost himself under the moonlight, into the schisms opening beneath the tender strokes of Harry's hands.

Eventually Draco broke away, finding himself sprawled on top of Harry in the earth and grass, struggling to remember how to breathe... without him, without him.

"Oh, fuck," he said, and it wasn't really a curse it was a prayer and Draco hoped like hell that someone would hear it.

Harry shook a little and Draco rolled off him, pulling him into his arms. "Shh..." he said soothingly into his dark hair but Harry's shaking did not subside. It took Draco a moment to realise that he was crying.

Draco could do nothing but hold him, wanting to know why he was crying but not being brave enough to ask. He could hear the buzzing of night creatures as Harry's tears slowly subsided.

"How soon will you be leaving?" Harry whispered into the skin of his neck and Draco shivered.

Draco paused, drawing Harry a little closer to him before answering. "Soon."

"And I... I can't come with you?"

"You wouldn't want to."

"What are you going to do, Draco?"

"What I have to," Draco said tightly. "Harry please, don't torture yourself or me by dragging us through this again. We have this night, only one. Let's not use it to worry about the future."

Harry tensed for a moment and Draco held his breath. Arms tightened around him and he felt Harry relax. "What will you take from tonight, Draco?"

Draco took a deep breath, steadying himself against Harry as he spoke. "I'll take the memory of your warmth and I'll hold it as a shield against the coming darkness."

"That is all?"

Try as he may, Draco couldn't stop his voice from hitching a little as he responded. "That is all."

"It won't be enough," Harry said and Draco could feel the despair in his voice like a knife-edge.

"Perhaps not. What will you take from this night, Harry?"

"I..." Harry faltered. "...don't ask me this, Draco. I can't pretend like you do. I can't..." Harry's voice was choked with pain and Draco leant forward to chase away his thoughts with a kiss, wanting to bring him back to this moment.

Neither of them mentioned hunger or the tangible reality of this strange new desire that ran between them, cutting deep.

Harry turned and pushed hands into his hair, kissing him deeper, hungrily, desperately and Draco matched him until they were both tangled in each other's limbs in the cool grass. And Draco wished that he could fool himself that this was enough but he knew that it never could be and oh how he hated Harry for making him feel.

It seemed as though an eternity had passed in this one night, as though he and Harry had always been. Draco could have been content for this moment to last the rest of his life. Warmth, an embrace of silver gilt light and the glitter of stars in the almost infinite distance.

Draco had always felt comfortable on the borders. But here in Harry's arms he was so thoroughly centred. Centred in himself, in Harry, and in the murky quagmire of the Dark Arts. Disdain had been a commodious emotion when he could survey his life from a distance, where it seemed a long way off, it could never touch him. The present was here and it was coming ever closer, eating up the horizon with the speed and certainty of a storm cloud.

Draco had almost forgotten where he was when Harry stirred in his arms. "It's getting light," he said and his voice was muffled by grief and weariness.

"Yes," Draco said, because there wasn't anything left to say, except for the many things that he couldn't.

"I... I won't forget this night, Draco."

"Neither will I." And Draco was loathe to notice that his own voice was strained with unshed tears and lord knows, there was enough of them to fill an ocean.

"Could we... could we stay here and watch the sunrise?"

"I'd like that."

The sun rose slowly over the treetops as time turned the world into a new day. Draco breathed deeply, pulling the scent of Harry into his blood until he coursed with him, by him, for him. He closed his eyes in pain.

On their way back to their dorm rooms they did not speak of the future. They did not speak of loss. They did not speak.

Draco kissed Harry softly, messily outside the Dungeons, wanting more than this, needing something tangible to disconnect him from this reality. It worked for a time, tears tasted better on Harry's tongue, but the building was awakening around them and Harry had to leave.

Breaking away, Draco rested his forehead against Harry's. "Go now," he said, still clinging to Harry and only half aware of it.

"Fuck, Draco, I don't want to. I don't want to leave you. I don't want you to leave me. I don't want you to do whatever it is you're planning to."

Brushing a kiss across Harry's scar, Draco tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "I know. I wish... I wish that you could stop me, Harry."

"Can I?"

"No." Draco set his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed the boy away from him. "Go, Harry," he whispered urgently.

Harry swore again and backed away, pulling on his Cloak as his green eyes burnt desperation into Draco's. Draco forced himself to turn from Harry. A knife blade straight to the heart would have been less cruel. At least that pain would have the certainty of an ending.

***

There was a boy. His name was Harry Potter. He had green eyes, dark hair and a scar in the centre of his forehead...