Long, Long Time

Chapter 3

"Caught in my fears

Blinking back tears

I can´t say you hurt me when you never let me near."

Harry paced the Astronomy Tower nervously, stomach twisted in knots. He glanced once again at his watch and noted that it was five minutes until 9pm. And he knew that Draco would come, no matter how hard Draco tried to avoid him, he had to come. He sat in his favourite chair near the window that overlooked the Quidditch field. He allowed his mind to wander freely, and it finally rested on what he would possibly say to Draco. He barely knew what to tell himself.

Draco clutched the note in his hand, worn from re-reading it as the day had passed by. After reading it repeatedly, Draco realized that he was quite annoyed by the note. Honestly, why did Harry have to remind him not to be seen? Obviously I know that, Harry. And when was a Malfoy ever late? It seemed like Harry was treating him like a child, acting like he had to spell everything out for Draco as if he was his mother.

But he was the one who would walk Harry through their meeting. No way was Draco going to allow Harry to get to him. He knew what he had to do, it was the only way to resolve anything at all. Draco placed the note back into his robes for good, no longer was he going to dwell on Harry's handwriting, Harry's urgent message. The day had gone and Draco felt no peace since Harry had somehow corrupted it with his need for....closure?

"Well that's certainly all I am going to offer him," Draco thought bitterly to himself. "No more pansy games and pleading looks. And no more burning eyes. And the more I make fun of those two friends of his, the more he'll have reason to hate me."

Draco nodded to himself and silently made his way to the Astronomy Tower, not realizing that the thoughts of Harry were enough to make him only a few minutes late.

Harry noticed, however, when Draco opened the door three minutes after nine. He watched Draco sweep elegantly into the room, and felt his stomach twist once more, making him wince slightly.

"You're late, Draco," Harry whispered, "But either way, I knew you'd come."

Draco silently swore to himself for actually being late, something he rarely ever did, and looked knowingly at Harry's smile.

"Ah, but it looks as if you think something pleasant shall happen, and I assure you, Harry, it won't. And it never will," Draco drawled.

Harry's smile flickered and Draco watched as he made a move to stand. "No, Harry, please just stay in the chair," Draco said and walked to the chair across from Harry's. He sat down and watched Harry's face as his words sank in.

"Listen, Harry-," Draco began, but stopped when Harry interrupted.

"No, you listen, Draco, " Harry practically screamed, "Ever since that night you have been insufferable. I thought it meant something, and I know I am right. Because I saw it in your eyes, when you told me to keep quiet. You did a very good job at acting, you know, because you definitely weren't as confident as you tried to make me think you were. I could tell, and you know it. I am the only one who could tell. And besides, you're here, and that says something."

"Yes, but it does not mean what you want it to. The reason I came tonight, Potter," Draco emphasized, "was not to tell you I want you. It was not to whisk you into my arms. I had to come because there was no other way to get it through your head that we won't ever happen. That the night we spent together meant nothing. If I hadn't come here tonight, to tell you this, then I could be damn sure that the next few months would be miserable for me as I dealt with your pleading looks and glances at me. I am sick and tired of this, get over it, because I can't stand you to the point where I don't even want your eyes on me. I don't want them on my face, or even on my back. I might not see them but I can feel them and I loathe the very thought of you wasting your emotions on me."

Draco stood and watched Harry's stunned face. For a fleeting instant he wanted to sit back down and take Harry's hand. But the feeling was over as quickly as it had begun and he turned to leave.

Harry, unsure of what to do or say out of fear that Draco might break his heart more, if that was possible, watched Draco as he walked away. And at that moment, Draco spun around and cried, "You see? I can feel your eyes on me even now. What the hell is your problem, Harry?"

Harry stood up and was at Draco's side in an instant. He brought his face within an inch of Draco's, fury and pain wrenching it into a glare that turned Draco's insides cold.

"My problem, Draco?," Harry screamed, "What the hell is your problem? You think you're so damn perfect, that you can do no wrong. That no matter what you do to hurt someone, it's okay because it's what you want. But you don't even know what you want, or else that night never would have happened. Don't think I can't see through you, Draco Malfoy, because underneath all of your ugly layers is a terrified boy who wants nothing more than acceptance and love. And you'll never get that. You will spend your life a lonely, miserable, soulless human being because you pushed love away. You may as well call yourself a Dementor, Draco, because you basically do nothing but suck the happiness and laughter out of a room, and you can truly make people wish they were dead. You may be happy about that on the surface, but deep down it eats away at you until pretty soon you're reduced to nothing but a mindless empty shell. I pity you for what you will become, and I fear you for what you will do to obtain a small ounce of respect. Because no one respects you, you know, they just pretend they do to stay on your good side. I was the only one who cared and now I am paying dearly for it. You have yourself a nice life, Malfoy, I wish you all the luck in the world, though even magic couldn't bring it to you because you're bitterness runs too damn deep."

Harry smiled, satisfied at the surprised look on Draco's face, and pushed his way past Draco. He opened the door, turned and nodded his head at Draco, and left.

"Harry...," Draco murmmered.

But Harry was gone.

As Harry made his way back to his common room, he toiled with a seemingly endless amount of emotions. Pain was the worst by far, much worse than the fading satisfaction at finally calling Draco out on his facade. He swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked back the tears that threatened his eyes. He felt fear for himself, and for Draco. He didn't know all that Draco was capable of quite yet, but he knew that he was powerful. And the final feeling that washed over Harry as he came in view of the common room entrance was a deep, aching, nagging emotion that riddled his insides with a cold, dreadful, stabbing sensation. Unrequited love.

Draco felt on the verge of tears as he slumped into one of the chairs in the Astronomy Tower. He lowered his head, tears nearly leaking down his face. He gripped the arm rest and could feel warmth. His breath caught in his throat as he realized it was the chair Harry had been occupying. He slowly curled up in the warmth of the chair, and closed his eyes. He lay there in Harry's lingering scent and allowed himself to cry, for the first time in quite awhile.

Harry was right, he knew. He had seen right through Draco, and Draco hadn't suspected him to be so sharp after being so harsh to him. He thought that Harry would simply nod and walk away.

Draco cried for himself, for Harry, and knew that he was nothing but a shell. He was as good as dead without his soul, and he knew Harry had ripped it away from him as he screamed the truth at Draco. He slowly realized how Harry now seemed to be like a Dementor, showing him his future as a meaningless lump of life, just like the Kiss of Death did to any human. Harry held his soul tightly and Draco knew the only way to be whole again was to give in to Harry.

But he wouldn't. It was too difficult. There had to be another way out.

Harry lay in bed, wondering where Draco was at that moment. And he again relived the events of the night in his mind. He cursed Draco for making him hurt. He hurt in his mind, in his heart, his body. He physically felt as though he had been thrown to the ground and beaten by a bludger during a Quidditch match. He ached all over, from what, he wasn't sure. Possibly from the anger that had literally wrenched his insides when he was screaming at Draco, or maybe from the walk back to his common room, muscles clenched in fury and pain. Or possibly a little of both.

It almost felt to Harry as if Draco could have thrown him to the grown and beaten him senseless, and he would still have felt better than he did now. But Harry slowly allowed himself to realize that he couldn't really accuse Draco of hurting him, after all, he never even let Harry into his life to begin with. Harry had simply imagined that, after that night, Draco had opened to him. But he hadn't. Even though Harry knew that Draco had feelings for him, Draco would never admit it, and in that sense, he couldn't be accused of hurting Harry.

He could only be accused of allowing Harry to see that he was unsure of himself. Otherwise, Draco had never allowed Harry to be near enough to him to truly hurt him the way Harry felt hurt. That night was just an occurence, everything since was nothing Harry keeping hope that Draco was a different person inside.

He obviously was misled.

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Draco awoke to find the moon shining in on him, and he quickly looked around. He was still in the Astronomy Tower, and it was obvious that some time had passed since his meeting with Harry. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. He checked his watch and noted that it was half past two in the morning. He stretched, sore from being curled up in the chair for hours.

He thought back to the scene that had played out earlier.

I hate my life. I can't even do what would make me happier than I've ever been.

Draco had to admit that he never meant to truly hurt Harry. But in reality, Harry didn't know the truth and he wouldn't ever tell, so how could he have hurt Harry? By treating him the way he always had when they first met?

No, Draco knew that Harry couldn't accuse him of causing him pain. But it didn't matter whether Harry accused him or not.

He had hurt Harry.

He had hurt Harry.

But why did he care at all? Draco knew that he had no choice in had no choice in his life, none that he could call his own. His father decided what happened to him. His father had already mapped out his future. He hadn't told Draco yet, but Draco knew for sure that he was going to be expected to follow in his father's footsteps. He was going to give his life, his everything to Lord Voldemort. His father would force him, no matter what.

Unless.

Draco knew his options. There were not many ways to escape the fate that his father had set for him. But there was one.

And the fact that he had just sacrificed his need and want for Harry because of his father, and his family pride that he could not let falter, for risk of being killed, made Draco's decision for him. He was determined not to let his father get his way. He knew what he had to do.

I won't hurt anyone anymore. Not Harry, not myself, not anyone. I won't be able to hurt.

And with that thought in his head, Draco strode happily back to his common room, confident in his own decision for once. Well, the only decision he would ever get to make for himself.

And within minutes he had fallen into a restless sleep. He dreamed of Harry.