When You're Beside Me...

Standard Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to the lovely members of a certain facebook group who should be blamed for this story seeing the light of day :D

As I've said before, when it says, "Harry closed his eyes..." or something to that effect, Harry is imagining. Then when it says, "...Harry opened his eyes," or something to that effect, Harry's waking up from his daydream. Read on...

Chapter 2

Harry sat at the end of one of the long tables among those he once considered his friends. He pushed his dinner around his plate to give the appearance that he had eaten. He didn't want to be there. He could feel all their stares like a heavy blanket, stilling his breath.

Why haven't you defeated You-Know-Who yet?

Isn't that what you're supposed to do?

Shouldn't you be fighting? Training? Doing something? Not sitting here and eating like the rest of us...You're a hero.

Do something.

Please.

How could he blame them? He should have been doing something. There were so many lost, so many dead, so many dying... And it was all his fault.

Pretending to be occupied in choosing his next bite, Harry hunched over his plate and closed his eyes...

...Then opened them, panicked. Nothing had happened. Harry fought back a moan and desperately clenched his eyes shut...

A pale Draco faced him across the empty trestle table, dressed in black robes. His grey eyes were cold and dead. It was a moment before Harry realized that Draco's forearms rested in a pool of blood on the table, his pale hands spotted with scarlet. Harry recoiled, his vision going dark around the edges.

"I waited, Harry. I waited for you."

...Harry's eyes were open, but he couldn't see through the burning blur of tears in his eyes.

Harry's stomach rumbled with hunger, but he didn't think he could keep anything down. Swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat, Harry murmured an excuse to the person sitting next to him and almost ran out of the dining hall.

He felt better with the crisp snap of fresh air on his face, but couldn't rid himself of the horrible image of Draco in his mind's eye. Harry listlessly followed an overgrown path bordering a dark copse of trees.

Still fighting the urge to retch, Harry sat on the dry, dead grass, leaned against a stone and pulled out a small, sheathed dagger from his pocket. Lupin had given it to him for his seventeenth birthday. He grasped its black marble handle and slowly pulled it out of its sheath, fascinated by the way the setting sun bled its crimson streaks over the polished blade. He clenched his left hand into a fist and set the blade carefully, almost reverently against his skin. He had done this before; he even had some gauze under the mattress at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Whatever it took to get Dra- Malfoy off his mind. Especially thoughts of his death. Can't live with those, Harry thought, fighting back the hysterical sob that raked his throat. Taking a deep, calming breath, he closed his eyes...

"Potter, I can see your stupid black hair behind that rock, so don't pretend you can't hear me. You'd bloody well better be listening to me."

That wasn't right at all.

... Harry's eyes snapped open and he jerked himself to his feet, pushing the dagger into its sheath and shoving it deep into his pocket at the all too real call. Draco Malfoy was striding towards him and Harry took a moment to admire the black t-shirt and the tight blue jeans. He absently wondered if this was one of his more vivid visions, but then took one look at the impotent rage on Draco's face and changed his mind. Trying to appear uncaring, Harry awaited his punishment.

"What are you doing out here?" Draco was now standing toe to toe with him and snarling into Harry's face. Harry told himself it was a very bad idea to get turned on. His body didn't agree.

"Uh... I was... Um." Harry frantically cursed the fact that not much blood was left in his brain.

"You've been acting strange for a while now, and I don't like it."

I love you.

"You don't eat anything anymore, and you're never surrounded by Granger and the Weasleys," Draco snapped with a mulish set to his jaw. Harry wanted to kiss his pursed lips, then convinced himself it was a bad idea.

Draco was really getting into his stride now. A flush grazed his high cheekbones and he stood toe-to-toe with Harry, jabbing an accusatory finger at Harry's chest every so often to accentuate his point. "And you mope around all the time and throw yourself into the training like there's no tomorrow-"

"That's just it!" Harry snapped, one phrase slapping him out of his lust-fogged admiration of Draco's face. "There might not be a tomorrow! Don't you understand? I'm supposed to be fighting out there so that people don't get killed. And what am I doing? I'm hiding in a training camp while Muggles and wizards and witches drop like flies-"

"Oh, so you think everyone in the training camp is hiding! And here I thought we were, what was it... Oh right, training!"

Harry wanted to smack the smirk off that pale, perfect face. "It's not like-"

"Then what is it like, Potter?"

"Will you liste-"

"No."

Harry lost it. He grabbed the front of Malfoy's shirt and pulled. Hard. Draco gave a muffled gasp as their lips connected. Harry's heart tripped a thudding rhythm in his ears. Draco tasted like strong coffee and Harry couldn't get enough of it. Their first kiss was wet and painful because they banged noses and bit lips and Harry's glasses were in the way and... Harry had never loved something so much in his life.

I love you.

He would tell him that later, Harry thought muzzily. This time it was real. There was no denying it. Harry needed Draco.

When they parted for a breath, Draco gazed at him, wide-eyed.

Then he took a step back and pushed a small packet at Harry's chest.

"This is... Uh... Well. Dobby said... You... It's treacle tart."

Harry stared at him, somewhat bemused, but accepted the package. Then he watched Draco turn around and slowly walk back to the dining hall.

Harry looked down at the package in his hands. Treacle tart? Draco Malfoy had brought him treacle tart?

"Oh, and Potter?"

Harry's gaze snapped to Draco standing a few feet away, who seemed to have regained his usual hauteur.

"Took you long enough. I'd been waiting for ages." Draco smirked and continued to walk back towards the barracks, his hands deep in his pockets.

Author's Notes: One more chapter to go! This is my first fic and I do not have a beta reader, so please keep that in mind and leave a review. Comments and (constructive) criticism are welcome!