Dark

Dark

By rae

The boys are becoming interchangeable.

It used to be that Harry would sit at whatever window ledge he could find, Hedwig by his feet, staring out into the freedom that he used to not know was available to him. Now they both sit by the windows, Harry on the right and Draco on the left, tips of their shoes touching, the silence heavy between them.

They have been together nearly four months, but sometimes Harry looks at Draco and wonders What am I doing here? and doesn't know what to say.

One day, when it is nearly five months, Harry and Draco lie in bed and things have gotten quite intense between them. Kissing led to groping which is where things would usually stop. But, on that day, they didn't and soon Draco finds himself feeling really quite naked- not only because he is actually naked, but also because he is sure that Harry can see everything in his eyes, how badly he has wanted this, how much it means to him, how scary he finds it.

So he looks up at Harry, his gray eyes wide and open, and says what has been weighing heavily on his mind for nearly five months. "What if you can't save me, Harry? Things are good now, but what if the time comes for me to choose and I panic, pull away from you?"

"Then we'll fight, just like before," Harry says, but his eyes appear sad and his voice sounds broken.

"Good," Draco replies and means it, because he isn't worth anyone giving up their life for and he knows that.

Harry ends the conversation but claiming Draco's mouth with his own. At some point, Draco is sure that he hears Harry murmur, "But I will always be able to save you."

Draco is not so sure.

***

Draco can remember the first time he met Harry Potter. He liked him at once and knew that Harry gave him a rumbly, excited feeling in his stomach, although he didn't understand why. So he talked and talked, about whatever he could think of and tried to push aside the nagging feeling that Harry was only listening because there was nothing else for him to do.

Eleven years old and already his first crush, he had never felt worse than when Harry refused him the next time they met. He'd had spells that had backfired painfully, his father was rather fond of using his favorite cane to discipline him, and sometimes when his mum drank enough she could get quite slap-happy as well. Didn't matter- none of it mattered when Harry Potter turned him away. His head had spun with fury and confusion and when he'd look at Harry, at Weasley, all he'd seen was his own pain and their angelic, perfect faces.

No one understood him, except maybe Snape who looked directly at Malfoy as he spoke and seemed to believe in him in a way that Malfoy had never experienced before. And he scowled and hissed and flounced through his days at school, using any excuse to put everyone down because maybe if they started to believe it, he'd know someone in the world hurt worse than him.

Harry Potter was perfect, Draco Malfoy was a git, and that was all there would ever be.

***

Wide eyes, green and gray, staring back at one another.

"Did you just kiss me?"

It was Draco's voice and he could barely recognize it. He'd never heard himself sound like that before.

Harry nodded, somewhat dumbly, but didn't say a word.

"Don't you ever do that again, Potter!" he spat but Harry appeared to not be paying attention because his lips were on Draco's before the blond had even finished hissing out Harry's name.

"Mmmph!" Draco mumbled against Harry's lips, trying to speak but Harry's kisses, demanding and unyielding. When Harry pulls back they are both breathless and gasping for air, Draco leans against Harry, who looks at him and grins.

"You were saying?"

Draco looks startled and feels it as well, his heart was pounding so loudly that the whole school can probably hear it echoing down the empty walls. "Who cares," he says and presses his lips to Harry's.

***

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter? Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

Draco came down the steps toward him and Harry felt disgust, Not this again, he thought. He watched as the Weasley's and the Malfoy's fought it out, noticed the way Lucius brought his cane down on Draco's shoulder to push him out of the way. For a fleeting moment he felt sympathy for the boy- after all, Malfoy had been raised to be a bastard. He didn't know any different. But that was only for a moment and then the familiar feeling of hatred returned.

And stayed, until that day when he thought he was either going to punch Malfoy or kiss him, and found himself, quite surprisingly, doing the latter.

After the kiss, the two of them would walk around and talk about things, both of them admitting that they didn't understand what had brought them to where they were.

***

The war was coming. Draco felt it with each breath of air to his lungs. He knew that most of Slytherin would be joining their families and helping Voldemort, he wondered if he'd go too.

And how would he leave, if that was to be his choice? Sometimes that was what he thought about when he and Harry would have silent-time in front of the window. How would he leave him? She he make it easier for Harry, make him hate Draco- pick up and go one day, after one last fuck or one last kiss, a few carefully worded insults meant to sting and burn, telling Harry that it had all meant nothing and was only a game? Or should he stay around, fight the good bloody fight, wait for his boyfriend to save them all. He felt sick and stupid- choose a side and stay there.

***

The second time they had kissed had been after a Quidditch match, the first they'd played against one another since the kiss that had started it all. The had both played the game with a verocity no one had seen before in the history of Quidditch, and competed for the Snitch like it was a life or death sort of deal. Harry had won, of course, he always did, and after the game they'd gone off for a bit of a snog. It had started to rain while they stood, obscured by a rather large tree that Harry had pressed Draco against in the lust-filled moment. Lips mashed together, not with much skill or tenderness, but neither boy cared because the tension between them had built for years and years and this was all about releasing. Kisses as another way of fighting. Their clothes clung to their bodies, heavy and drooping, Quidditch robes tossed to the ground without a thought and slowly slowly getting muddier by the moment. Draco's tee-shirt that he'd been wearing underneath was half-off and the tree bark was scratching tearing and his soft, smooth back but he didn't care didn't want to stop because what if they did and Harry thought about it, decided he didn't want to start ever again? Their hair was plastered to their heads, when Harry opened his eyes he noticed that Draco's long and usually stuck-in-place silver tresses quite long and falling rather fetchingly in his face. Draco noticed that he really did like Harry's hair, the way it stuck up any which way, as though saying Ha! I am the hair of Harry Potter and need not bow before traditional styles!

When they went back inside they got in quite a lot of trouble, where had they been? What happened to their Quidditch-- hang on, were you two together out there?

Everyone knew within a day, barely anyone cared, it was just another thing that had happened gradually over the years- like Ron and Hermione or Millicent and Goyle. So they stayed together; tenderness began to creep in to the relationship, they would talk before kissing, in between kisses, after. When one of them got injured during a Quidditch match, the other would help attend to it, refusing to leave Madame Pomfrey's side until it was dealt with.

Draco was the first to let 'I love you' pass his lips, Harry said it a few moments later, but privately Draco wondered if that was enough to keep them together. Love had never been all that important in his life before. The only person he'd ever loved before had been his father, who'd beaten insulted ignored hated him all his life. When Lucius visited, Draco still found himself in the same old emotional whirlwind- hatred, neediness, embarrassment, anxiety, love, fear, hope that he'd do something this time that his father could approve of.

Lucius had no idea about Harry, of course.

***

Then came the war and it was Draco's time to choose. He wouldn't see Harry or Hermione or Ron, just stayed up in the darkness of his room and paced, trying to figure out what he wanted. He spoke with the other few Slytherins that had stayed in school and not gone to join Voldemort, most of them just didn't care and figured that it would be easier to wait around Hogwart's to either be saved or to die. Draco didn't have it in him to be quite so nihilistic.

If he went with Harry, he might have to watch him die. He'd also be going against his father, which he was looking forward to in a way where he wasn't looking forward to it at all. If he went with his father, he could probably find a way to manipulate his mother into not letting him go into battle, and he could hide out until everyone was dead and this thing was over. Of course there was a major downside to that, which was everyone being dead. Harry being dead.

Damn it. Why the hell did I have to develop a bloody conscience?

Finally, after days and days of Draco sitting alone in the dark, Harry came to see him. He paused in the doorway, somewhat awkwardly, feeling that this was ridiculous, being nervous around someone you'd been with for nearly over a year. But he didn't know which side Draco was on, Draco had been honest since the beginning that he himself didn't know. "I need an answer, Draco. Are you with us?"

Draco smiled weakly at the raven-haired boy. Funny, he'd spent all this time trying to figure things out, but when the moment came he'd known it as soon as he'd seen Harry's silhouette in the doorway. Harry smiled back, still a bit nervous-looking, green eyes hopeful behind his glasses.

"Let's go," Draco said, standing up. He took Harry's nad in his and they went to find the others.