Metamorous

Chapter 13 - Reality

I've been here before a few times

And I'm quite aware we're dying

And your hands they shake with goodbyes

And I'll take you back if you'd have me

And I'll miss your laugh your smile

I'll admit I'm wrong if you tell me

I'm so sick of fights I hate them

Let's start this again for real

~Always, Blink-182

~~~~~~~

He's dead. My father is dead. The man who gave me life. Who made up half my genetic material. Who clothed me, fed me, bought me everything I ever wanted. Loved me, in his own way. And...

"Is it bad... that I don't feel anything?" I turn to Dumbledore almost blindly, desperately wanting to know the answer to my question.

He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. "You're still in shock, my boy."

"I... I'm not so sure I am." I look up at him, searching to hold his gaze behind bushy eyebrows. "You know?"

He was my father. My father. Not 'dad' or 'da' and certainly never 'daddy'. Not even when I was little. And I don't remember him ever kissing me, and only hugging me a few times. A very few times. But maybe that was more because I'm not big on human contact. I don't think I've ever really had anyone hug me. Harry. Just Harry. Why is every exception 'Harry'? Every exception, every constant, everything. Harry.

Bollocks.

Dumbledore sighs, yanking me from my thoughts. "Draco," he says wistfully, pulling himself up and out of the chair. "I make no claim to know exactly who or what your father was. Only you know that. And yes, there are some people that truly deserve to die. Who have done such horrible things..."

My father wasn't one of them. At least, not to me. But at the same time, I don't think it was quite unfair or unfitting that this was his end. I don't feel any regret. He was too far gone to regret. Regret... regret is wishing for something that could have been. And I know that nothing could ever have been. Ever since I was a small child, I always had this ridiculous idea that I'd save him. Save him, for gods' sake. And I never could have. He was too far in, too distant, too whatever he was. He didn't want to be saved. He didn't think there was anything wrong with the way he was. And maybe there wasn't. Maybe he just was. I... I don't know. I love him. I'll always love him. For those brief moments of emotion he did show, for the humanity that was in him but was never really seen. For the fact that he was my father, and he never intentionally hurt me. I don't know. Like I said. I'm not feeling much of anything right now. Not feeling much of anything at all.

"Draco? Draco?"

"W-what?"

"I asked if you were all right."

Oh. Dumbledore was still talking while I was off and sorting through the rampant chaos that is my mind. "Yes. I'm fine."

He smiles benignly. "I'll have lunch sent up for you. Almost noon all ready."

"Hmm. Thank you."

"No trouble at all my boy. Make sure to rest up."

"I will."

~~~~~~~

I look down at Harry, at his blank expression and pale face. The room is nearly silent, the only noise the faint humming of some bug flitting around near the window. It's too quiet. And Harry is much too quiet. And I'm feeling much too numb to even feel much of anything at all. Everything's 'too much' or 'not enough'. Everything's wrong.

"Mr. Malfoy, you should be resting."

I shrug Madame Pomfrey's hand off my arm. "I want to stay here."

"Mr. Malfoy..."

"Please?"

That gets her. And it should, really. I'm not one to toss that word around all the time. I mean, call me crazy, but people say 'please' and 'thank you' so much that it doesn't really mean a thing. You can't just throw it around. It's like the word 'sorry'. If you have to apologize all the time, it doesn't mean anything. So I don't say please all the time. Only when I mean it. Only when I really want something. And I really want to stay here with Harry.

"You've been in here all day." Her voice softens. "I understand that you're worried, but I cannot allow you to remain in here. Out, Mr. Malfoy. Don't have me summon your Head of House."

That's the last thing I need. Or one of the last, at least.

With a small sigh I walk out of the room, Madame Pomfrey following closely behind.

"He'll be fine, Mr. Malfoy," is the only thing she says as she shuts the door firmly behind me.

The funny thing is that I was the one who was hurt. I came in with a head wound, Dumbledore levitating me a few feet off of the floor. The minute they put me down on the bed Madame Pomfrey set me to rights. No scar from the cut, no nothing, not even a headache. But Harry... for some reason, Harry dropped like a stone almost right afterwards. He was walking around, talking, just fine and then... then not. And the worst part? They don't know why.

He's still sleeping. Sleeping. He won't wake up. And they don't know why. Specialists from St. Mungo's have been here, and they don't know either. Stress. Shock. The severing of the link between him and Voldemort. It's all guesswork. They're grasping at straws. They don't want to be around when he dies. If he dies, damn it. If.

~~~~~~~

When I wake up, I know almost immediately where I am. I know this ceiling better than I know anything else in the world. It has got to be the Infirmary.

I start to sit up. Which is, as I find out about half a second later, a really bad idea.

I groan and sink back into pillows. My head feels like one of Neville's cauldrons after Potions class. Wincing in sympathy yet? Good. You should be. It's that bad.

Urg. Time to pull the blankets back over my head. Why the hell am I here anyway? You usually this happens post-Quidditch match. I don't remember -

Oh.

Shit.

Voldemort. Draco. Lucius. Wormtail. Dead Voldemort. Dead Lucius. Hurt Draco. Film at eleven. Double shit. Triple shit. Piles of shit. Shit in vast, loathsome quantities. Huge, whopping, heaps of shit.

"Harry? Harry, is that you? Are you awake dear?"

Madame Pomfrey. "Yes. I'm awake."

"Do you need something for your head?"

"N-no. I'm fine."

"If you're sure."

"Madame Pomfrey?"

"Yes dear?"

"Did I... is Lucius Malfoy dead?"

A short pause. "Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, he is."

"And I...?"

No answer.

I bury deeper into the bed.

"You should try to get some sleep, Harry. You've had a very exhausting time."

Exhausting. Killing takes a lot out of you, apparently.

I killed Lucius Malfoy. I killed Draco's father. Fuck. What else is there to say? Seriously. That is the end of all ends.

"Yes," I state blankly. "Yes, I suppose I have."

"Get some rest now, dear."

"Yes, all right," I murmur, turning and pushing my face into the pillow so I don't scream. But I do cry. Too much magic, too many drugs, not enough real rest. And no Draco. Fuck. Why is everything so damn depressing? Voldemort's dead! Dead. Deader than a doornail and never coming back. That alone should have me jumping for fucking joy. But no. I'm here, lying in bed in the Infirmary and crying my goddamn eyes out. Ohhh, the irony.

I fight back another sob, succeeding in giving myself hiccups instead. I had expected my life to go to shit right about now, but only after I got to say goodbye. I deserved that at least, didn't I? The chance to tell Draco goodbye. It seems... it seems like if it has to end, then at least there should be a better ending.

I hear the creak of the door, and hesitant footsteps.

"Harry? Are... you awake?"

"Yes." I wipe surreptitiously at my face, knowing that it's probably futile, being so damned pale.

"Sort of a dumb question, I suppose."

"Only slightly."

Hermione pushes her hair back behind her shoulders and shrugs. "Madame Pomfrey said you were all right but I - "

"I am all right."

"Are you Harry? I don't mean to be nosy, but..." She frowns and shrugs again. "You're not always very up front with this sort of thing."

"I'm just tired. I just remembered everything that happened and..." Fuck. "Draco. He's all right, isn't he?" He had a head wound when I found him. Shit, I never even thought to ask...!

She raises an eyebrow. "He's fine." Thank God. I never even bothered to think... I just assumed... "Look. I..." Then she shakes her head. "I'm going to let you get some sleep. And tell Ron you're all right."

Ron? He's here? Hell, why is Hermione here? They were at the Burrow over break... My brain is about half a million steps behind and it refuses to catch up.

"How...?" Damn it. Stupid hiccups. Either Hermione doesn't notice or simply chooses to ignore them.

"Dumbledore," she says quietly, knowing what's running through my head even when I don't. "He told us what you and Draco had been up to." She heads towards the door, laughing quietly. "Harry... I didn't suspect a thing."

~~~~~~~

I spent a half an hour staring at the blank piece of paper that was to become my Potions essay before giving up and heading back down to the Infirmary. I just... I need to see him.

Ergh. I suppose I should accept defeat and go back to the dorm, but I just can't. Remember that moment right before we faced Voldemort, where I thought about telling him how I felt? I'd give anything to go back and tell him. Because... what if I don't get the chance now?

I begin to round the corner to the Infirmary but suddenly screech to a halt instead. Is that...?

"So?"

"He's awake."

"I know that!"

Ron. And Hermione? What...

"How is he?"

"Fine," she responds absently.

"Fine, like...?"

"A little pale."

"Oh. But he'll be okay, right?"

"Yes, yes. Fine." There's a long moment of silence. "It's just..."

"What Hermione?" Ron asks, exasperated. "What?"

"He was crying!" she finally blurts out.

"W-what?" Ron sounds like the bottom of his world fell out. What? Harry's not allowed to cry? Wait. Harry was crying?

"Crying crying," she stresses. "And he didn't want me to know either."

"I bet... I mean, killing someone sounds all well and good, if it's Voldemort," he suggests hesitantly. "But he's probably feeling guilty. I mean, you know Harry..." Do you? Do you know him?

"I don't know. I don't think that was it for some reason."

"That's... I bet that's what it was." But he doesn't sound so certain.

"Did you did you notice Draco hasn't been down here?"

"Of course I noticed," he snaps. Then, softly, "I mean, I know they weren't really... going out or whatever, but I actually thought that, well, that maybe he cared about Harry. You know? 'Cause he seemed kind of... nice." How eloquent of you. And how totally fucking wrong. Of course I care about him!

"Maybe he's hurt too." But Hermione just sounds uncertain. "And Madame Pomfrey just let us in now. Maybe he was here earlier."

"Maybe."

I've been here the whole time. The whole fucking time. But he wasn't awake. They still thought he was dying. But he's not. He's fine...

"You know..." Hermione admits hesitantly. I watch, motionless beside the statue of Grendel the Gallant, as she moves closer to Ron, resting her head on his shoulder. "Even though Voldemort's dead, and they captured, oh, dozens of Death Eaters, I still can't help feeling..."

He wraps his arms around her. "Like it isn't over?"

"Yes. Exactly."

They sway back and forth a moment longer, his shaggy red hair brushing down on the top of her head, freckled hands twisting in her hair. It's beautiful. They're beautiful, together like that. And I can't stand it. It hurts. Because I've felt the sting of jealousy, like when Harry kissed Blaise. Of envy, watching Harry talk earnestly with Ron, telling him things he would never tell me. Of self-loathing, hating myself for not being able to say what I so desperately want to say. And it's like everything rolled into one. Because I am such a fool.

~~~~~~~

I've decided to take Madame Pomfrey up on her offer. Dreamless sleep potion for me.

Right now I don't want to remember. I don't want to see that cloaked figure falling over and over in slow motion. Don't want to hear the short, rasped shout, or the thud of the body on the floor. Don't want pale green light playing over the insides of my eyelids.

So I'll settle for nothing. Blank, easy nothing.

~~~~~~~

Climbing in a third story window while balancing on your broom is not easy. Trying to do it without waking anyone up is damn near impossible.

I let out a muffled squeak as the broom pitches forward a little. Ooookay, let's just get inside, shall we? My alter egos can talk amongst themselves when I've got both feet back on solid stone.

Pulling myself up over the windowsill, I look around to make sure I've got the right room. That would be bloody hysterical, getting into the wrong one. The explanation I would have to give for that...

But Harry's right there, lying in the corner bed. Sleeping, I suppose. It is late. Can't exactly climb in here during broad daylight...

Unable to resist, I walk over towards him, sitting in the chair closest to the bed instead of just looking from across the room like I'd planned. Then, because I am such a perpetually weak individual, I place my hand on his, gently intertwining our fingers. He looks all right. Not great, mind you. There's a small frown marring his forehead, and he looks even paler than usual, but it doesn't look like he's going to die on me.

He shifts uneasily in his sleep. I do nothing but sit there and watch him. And I don't know exactly how long I sat there, really, but I'm completely unprepared when the door opens and Ron steps in.

Well. Shit. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I was too deep in thought to even hear him coming.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he demands.

"I, uh, snuck in, actually."

He stares at me for a long time. Surprised, I think, rather than angry. Because he's adding up how close I'm sitting to Harry's bed, that I've twined my fingers through his, that I've snuck in here in the middle of the night. Some people think Ron's a little dense about this sort of thing, and yes, he kind of is. But even he can't ignore what's staring him in the face.

"You're really in love with him, aren't you?"

Got it in one. "Yes."

His jaw drops, and he takes a step closer to the bed. "But I thought... it was all fake."

"It was. It is."

"But Dumbledore said... you said..."

"It's fake! It is! That's the bloody problem!" I round on him angrily. "It was fake, all right? It's probably the biggest bloody joke in the world, me falling in love with him! I know that, all right? I know that."

Silence. The very awkward kind, where you just put your foot in it and you know you did.

"I didn't really mind it, you know," he says suddenly. "The whole 'you-being-with-him' thing. I mean, I did at first, because you were an evil, nasty Slytherin git. But you're not. Evil and nasty, that is. You are a Slytherin. Obviously." He shifts back and forth on his feet awkwardly. "I just.... ah, bollocks. The only thing I want is for him to be happy. And while I do have to draw the line somewhere... you think you can make him happy, I'm not getting in the way."

Dry-mouthed, I can only nod. Ron is... well, Ron isn't really my friend. Or at least I never thought so until now.

"Of course," he chirps, perking up immensely. "You hurt him, and I'll come after you. Along with every other Weasley."

"And how many is that, exactly?"

"Immediate family, nine. Extended family, well..." The gleam in his eye is quite frightening, truth be told. "Let's just say we could populate some of the smaller European countries."

"How lovely." Dear Lord. Now would be the perfect time for a sex quip of some sort, but I'm not pushing my luck.

"But you won't hurt him," he asks me, suddenly quiet. "Will you?"

It never ceases to amaze me how Ron can go from serious to funny and back again, and mean it. I look at him and then back at Harry, at that beautiful, fragile face I've come to love so damn much it hurts.

"No. I won't."

~~~~~~~

I sneak out of the Infirmary a little after midnight, right before Madame Pomfrey makes another round. I've been in the Infirmary so much I actually know her schedule. Sad, really.

"Death to Voldie," I murmur quietly, and the wall-door to the common room slides open. No other Slytherins had stayed over break, so the password was as stupid as I wanted it to be. Haven't bothered to change it yet, obviously, and right now I don't have the energy.

I slide into bed, shutting my eyes and knowing instinctively that I won't be getting any sleep. I toss and turn all night. I want to see him. I need to. I can't... the bed is empty. Empty, and it shouldn't be. It's a Friday; Harry always spends the night with me on Fridays and then we get up late, very late, and stay in bed even later. That's how it's supposed to be.

I trace where he would be in the bed. The house elves have cleaned the room so the sheets don't smell like Harry. There's no imprint from his head on the pillow. There's no stray sock or some other odd item we always eventually find under the chair or in a book. His broom is in the corner where he left it, so he wouldn't have to go all the way back to Gryffindor Tower when we went flying. And if I looked around long enough, I'd find a stash of Chocolate Frogs someplace. In the chess box, maybe, that's where he usually 'hides' them. I think this is just as much Harry's room as mine.

~~~~~~~

Three days after killing Voldemort and I'm still stuck in the Infirmary. Still miserable. Still alone. And being pestered with good intentions.

The road to hell...

Hermione prattles on and on as I shred my toast. Light, fluffy things. 'Safe' topics. The Weasleys, Christmas, homework. I'm about three seconds away from Avada Kedavra-ing myself. I have no idea where Hermione picked up this small talk thing, but it's driving me up a wall.

"Don't you want to eat anything?"

I begin to rip the toast into even smaller pieces. "I'm just not feeling well, that's all."

"It has something to do with Draco, doesn't it?" Well, that's a bit off the 'safe' topics list.

"No." It has everything to do with him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"When I woke you up this morning, you murmured his name," she states simply.

Well. Hard to argue with that.

"Whatever." I have no control over my stupid subconscious. It doesn't know what's good for it anyway.

"Harry..."

"I don't want to talk about it." What happened to humoring the sick boy?

"You never want to talk about anything."

So?

"You like him, don't you?"

Not gonna say anything.

"A lot."

Nothing.

"And all that kissing... that was real, wasn't it?"

Silence.

"You're in love with him."

Mum's the word.

"You are, aren't you?" She leans over onto the bed, eyes peering down at me intently. "I don't hear you denying anything."

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

"Hermione," I sigh. "Please just... shut up." Just has to be bloody right all the time, doesn't she?

~~~~~~~

Morning dawns bright and early and unbearably cheerful. I need a properly Slytherin dawn, with foreboding mists and overcast skies all around, and a crow sitting on a bare-branched tree outside. As completely mizzy as I am.

I sit down at the Slytherin table, completely and totally alone because almost no one ever stays over break to begin with, and those that are here are, unfortunately, Hufflepuffs. I don't like to deal with them at all, but before coffee it's a definite no.

I'm halfway through the choking down a potful of said coffee and scowling at my eggs until they spontaneously combust when someone taps me on the shoulder.

"What?" I growl, and turn around to find Ron staring down at me from that god-awful height of his.

"He's awake, you know.

I deliberately turn my back on him, defiantly trying to hide the flood of relief that washes over me. He's going to be okay then. "So?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? Are you going to talk to him or not?"

"Why should I?" I say bitterly. "It's not like it'll change anything."

"Change anything?" he repeats incredulously. "How the fuck are you going to know?" He sits down on he bench next to me. "All right, look. When I was being an ass to Harry, you told me I was being an ass. Now I'm going to do the same for you. You're being an ass. Trust me. You don't want to do what 'Mione and I did. You don't want to dance around each other for six bloody years. Just tell him. The worst he can do is say he doesn't feel that way."

"Thank you, Ron, for putting it in perspective," I shoot back sarcastically. The worst. The worst is him laughing and throwing my love back in my face. I'm wincing just thinking about it. Rejection is a painful, painful thing. I've been rejected, everyone has, but I've never been in this deep before. I can't even imagine how much it would hurt, for him to take my heart and just stomp on it. On the other hand... the worst also equals not being with Harry anymore, which I will most definitely be doing if I don't say anything.

So I guess... Ron did put it in perspective after all.

~~~~~~~

"Draco wants to talk to you."

"I..."

"It seemed pretty important."

I begin to pick at the edge of the blanket.

"Are you going to see him, or not?" Hermione raises an eyebrow. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

Hermione spent about an hour this morning playing psychiatrist. I told her, well, mostly everything. I pretty much left out the sex. But it was sort of implied, and... you know how Hermione is. But she basically chewed me out for being a general coward, having an inferiority complex a mile wide, and told me to talk to him. And... here we are.

"I don't..." I sigh. "I killed his father, you know."

"I know."

"And... I just..."

"It was a battle Harry. If it wasn't you it was someone else. Or it was the Dementors."

"Still."

"Still what? You love him, right?"

"Yeah..." I'll take 'Really Dumb Questions' for two hundred.

"If it's love, nothing should change that. Or it's not really love. And if he really loves you, that won't change it either."

"There's quite a few 'ifs' in there Hermione."

She shrugged. "Everything's a risk. Can't pretend otherwise. You just have to see if it's a risk you're going to take."

Is it? A risk I'm going to take, I mean. I need him. I need him a whole hell of a lot. So why am I sitting here, pretending that he doesn't exist? Badly pretending, might I add. Moping isn't very convincing.

"He's waiting outside."

A chance... a chance is a risk. And usually not a good one. Not something you really expect to happen. But if you never take the chance, then you know nothing will ever happen. So what's the point? Shouldn't I just do it? Where the hell is that Gryffindor courage and bravery? The foolhardiness? Something. I don't know. Whew boy. Here we go. Deep breath.

"Would you let him in?"

She raises an eyebrow, probably wondering why I've changed my mind, but I think there's a hint of a smirk there as well. But she just turns and heads for the door, ushering Draco in before leaving.

The first thing I think is that he looks the same. And the second is duh, of course Harry, why wouldn't he? But it seems like I haven't seen him in forever even though it's only been four days. Then again, holy shit. Four days. Most times we can barely get through four classes without scrambling for a broom closet. I'm going through serious Draco withdrawal, which might be a feeling I'll have to get used to. That's the third thought. And not a very happy one.

"Hey."

"Hey."

~~~~~~~

Well, the awkwardness abounds.

I pull the chair up next to his Harry's bed, close but not too close. Almost where I was sitting last night. And that takes, oh, all of five seconds.

"How do you feel?" Are you okay? Really?

"I'm all right." He shrugs and looks away. "Been better."

"I bet."

Insert more awkward silence here. Bleh. Why is talking so difficult? Sometimes you can talk and talk and say nothing at all but then... then you try to say something important and you say even less.

"So. What was so important? That you had to talk to me about?"

My turn to look away. "Just... I wanted to ask you a question."

"What kind of question?"

Time to take the leap. Eh. Sort of. "How do you feel about me?" I just want to know how you feel. I want to know what you want. If you want me or if you don't. If you want to forget whether any of this happened.

~~~~~~~

The question sends me for a bit of a loop. How do I feel about him? I love him. Duh. I would die for him. Hell, I almost did. But to tell him that?

For just once in my life, I want to be something to someone. And when I say be something, I don't want to be their symbol. I don't want to be their savior. I don't want to be Voldemort's killer, the Wizarding World's Savior, none of that shit. I'm not content with having a million friends and no one to really love. All my life I've lived almost. The Weasley's are almost my family. Almost, and not quite. And I love Hermione and Ron, really, but not like I love Draco. Not like I want Draco to love me. I can't live on the edge of love anymore. I have for seventeen years and now I've fallen, fallen hard and fast and I don't really care.

What was supposed to be three months of hell became what could have been three months of heaven, except for the threat of purgatory that hung over my head. I'm stuck halfway between. All of Draco, none of Draco, just enough Draco to feel pleasure amidst pain. Cold Draco, warm Draco, lukewarm Draco, serious Draco, fun Draco, lets-have-sex Draco, harry-let-me-get-some-fucking-sleep Draco, brave Draco, scared Draco, sugar-high Draco, drunk Draco, Slytherin Draco, Gryffindor Draco, they're all in there. His millions of alter egos and more. I love every one of them. Every single one except the cold, arrogant Draco that used to look down on me, silver eyes shining coldly. I love his eyes, I do, but if they look at me now the way they used to... I couldn't take it. And that's why I don't know what to say.

"So I don't even merit an answer?"

Startled, I snap back to the present to find Draco smiling at me sadly.

"It's not that," I counter weakly. "I just don't think you'll like my answer."

"I'll never know until I hear it." He leans in, so close I could reach out and touch him and I want to so badly that my fingers dig deeply into the covers of the bed, and clench tightly because God knows, I want to touch him...

"Harry... do you feel anything for me at all?"

"What do you think?" Oh screw it. Hell, hands or no hands. I lean in to place a brief kiss on his lips, maybe the last kiss I'll ever take from him. He stares down at me, silver eyes alight with surprise. I want to know what goes on behind those eyes.

~~~~~~~~

Something far heavier than lead settles in my stomach. A frown crosses my face and I shrug off the hand he stretches out for me. Because I could do this for the rest of my life. I know I could. He can touch me and we won't have to speak, and then nothing will ever be said. And it can't be that way anymore.

"That's not really what I want," I say slowly. "Not what I came here for, at any rate. And it that's all that you want - "

Quick as a shot Harry reaches out to grasp my wrist, face upturned towards mine. "I didn't mean it like... I don't know what you want, Draco. I can't get inside your head. I've been trying to for three months and I still don't have a clue." Staring at me earnestly, Harry pulls me down beside him. "I just don't know. When it comes down to it I don't know about you. Don't know how you feel about me, don't know what you want. There's so many walls around you! Do you have any idea what it's like to look at the face of the person you're sleeping next to and just have no idea?"

I have walls? This comes from the boy with more secrets and hidden depths than anyone I've ever known! I've learned more about him from newspapers and magazines than from talking with him!

"I don't know your middle name."

"What?"

Erlack. That slipped out.

"I... don't know your middle name. Or your favorite color." I feel a flush rise to my face. "Just some things I was thinking about once."

There's some more of that silence.

He sighs, softly. "James. My middle name is James."

"Harry James Potter." I test it out. Not the most glamorous or interesting name, sure, but its his. And it suits him. "Your father, right?"

"Yeah." He shifts restlessly. "And my favorite color is green."

"A Slytherin color?"

"I was almost a Slytherin." I must look even more shocked than I feel because he smirks. "Bet you didn't know that."

Harry a Slytherin? Harry of the golden-boy reputation and tortured countenance? Harry I-killed-the-greatest-Dark-Wizard ever? Oh. When I put it that way... That whole hidden depths thing. "Are we sharing deep, dark secrets now?"

"Got any deep, dark secrets to share?"

You'd be surprised. "Wanna hear my deepest, darkest secret of all?"

~~~~~~~

"Sure."

I look down at where Draco's hand is entwined with mine. Oh. I don't even want to hope, you know, because even though my heart is in my throat it's like Draco is holding it in his hands. Or underneath his heel. I don't really know.

"I've never told anyone before. Actually, I've told one person," he corrects himself quickly. "But only because they'd pretty much figured it out anyway. It's kind of ... I don't know what you'd call it. Almost ironic, or twisted, I guess. Some sort of cosmic mix-up."

His fingers tighten on mine almost imperceptibly.

"Draco..."

"Somewhere alone the way, I fell in love with you," he says simply. Whoa. "And I really... I really wasn't supposed to, was I? It wasn't supposed to be anything like that. Christ, I hated you and then I couldn't stop thinking about you and then we're making out all over the fucking school. And then that first night... I don't know. This whole stupid plan is the best thing and the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I fucking hate pretending. I hate guessing how real or unreal something is, what's acting and what's not. I hate the goddamn plan!"

"So screw the plan."

"What?"

"To hell with it," I say with far more flippancy than I feel. "I mean, it was only until Voldemort, right? So I say, it's time for a new plan." One where we don't have to pretend, or guess.

"A new plan..." he repeats slowly.

Me? My heart's pounding so hard right now it feels like it's going to break my ribcage.

"Maybe just no plan at all. No bullshit. No pretending." Believe me when I say anything you want. Anything, nothing. It's yours. Did you never even imagine that?

"All right."

All right. Two words and I can fucking breath again. Two words and the torment is over. Two words and a wealth of meaning. If you think words don't mean anything, then you haven't heard the right ones yet.

"Could you... um, could you say it? Once?"

He smiles. Slowly, surely, and just like always, it takes my breath away. He doesn't smile that much, you know? It's a normal expression people wear, but Draco never smiles enough. And from now on I'm going to make damn sure he does.

"I love you."

Draco loves me. Whoa. For a dizzying second the world stops.

I love you.

He's in love with me. He's actually honest to god in love with me. And I didn't... I never realized how three words could flip my whole world upside down, and the funny thing is, I don't care. The funny thing is that I like the world upside down, and backwards, and utterly completely crazy like is suddenly seems to be.

"You love me?" I mumble, dazed and a little doubtful. I mean, he sort of said it and then he actually said it and it sounds so weird but right and...

"Yes," he says quietly, smiling more in his eyes than on his face. God, I love those eyes. "More than anything."

"I love you too."

I never realized before this moment exactly how much I wanted to hear those words, how much I wanted him to love me. I wanted to love him, and I wanted him to know that, but I didn't think that receiving love back would be just as fulfilling. And pretty damn sexy.

Hey, I haven't seen him in four days! Not to mention we killed Voldemort together. That calls for a celebration of some kind, right?

"Feel up to taking advantage of me?"

His mouth drops open in shock and he looks positively scandalized. "Harry! It's the Infirmary!"

"So lock the door."

He scrambles for the door and is back on the bed in five seconds. Tops. He kind of pounces on the bed, actually, and with his robe trailing behind him I can't help hearing theme music in my head, along with a little mini-Harry screeching 'Draco Power!' A short giggle bursts from my mouth before he kisses me. Ah shit, I...

"You just giggled."

"Yes. I did." Damn voices get me in such awkward situations.

And then we're both laughing, and it's funny how the laughing turns into snogging again.

~~~~~~~

I bite back a curse. Stupid blankets. They're in the way. As well as ugly pajamas with far too many buttons...

"Why is it that whenever I see you, there's at least two layers of something between us?"

"Because I tend not to walk around naked."

Don't take that 'duh' tone with me, young man.

"Shut up," I murmur brokenly, mouth moving slowly down his chest, taking my sweet time because of these stupid buttons...!

Harry laughs quietly and pushes me back, reaching down for the hem of his shirt and pulling it easily over his head.

"You can work on seduction later."

"M'kay."

I'm not drooling too much here, am I?

"Plenty of time for that," he purrs. "Plenty of time for anything."

~~~~~~~

"Missed you so... damn... much..."

"It hasn't been that long," I protest weakly, losing the fight against the urge to moan. Why does he always get the best of me? Note to self: Seduce Draco. Better yet, tie up and seduce Draco.

"Still too long."

And that I won't argue with.

Draco's lips slide roughly over mine, nipping gently at my lower lip, silently asking for entrance. I can't deny him anything, least of all this. He is everything.

I open my eyes to find Draco looking down at me with a puzzled expression on his face.

"You taste... different."

I feel the beginnings of a pout form on my face. "Madame Pomfrey won't let me have any chocolate."

He buries his face in my neck and laughs. He isn't making any noise, but the way his shoulders are shaking he's laughing all the same. "Poor baby." Then I feel his teeth scrape gently over my jugular, and his hands at the waistband of my pants. And to hell with the damned chocolate.

~~~~~~~

I pull off the rest of Harry's clothes, pausing only to run my fingers over the ridges of his scar. The large one, the one that runs over his hip. I don't like it; that's not why I pay so much attention to it. Because the size of this scar... that's a lot of pain. It's more like I'm trying to make up for it.

"Don't worry about it."

I look up over Harry's stomach to find him smiling down on me.

"It's an old scar. Hurt hell of a lot less than this one," he continues, pointing to the lightning bolt on his forehead.

"Eh, don't remind me." My own tortured and Byronic hero. We should probably be riding off into sunset on our broomsticks or something, but we'll stay here and have sex instead.

Now it's Harry's turn to undress me, nibbling my ear along the way, snapping me out of my reverie. "What are you thinking about? When you just go off like that?"

"You." Always you. Stupid. No more world domination, or tricks to play on you, or ways to make you miserable. You. Me. Frequently without clothes. Doing X-rated things. Bad Harry.

~~~~~~~

I drop Draco's clothes near the side of the bed. He quickly settles on top of me and I wrap my legs around him, forcing him even closer.

"Goddamn it Draco." Nothing ever does this to me. He consumes me. I can't think of anything but him. Almost... almost like Imperious, but I don't mean that in a creepy way. Just that it's nothing but him. Why would you want anything but him? I don't. I don't want anything but skin so pale you see the veins throbbing beneath it, sleek muscles and ivory hair and crystal eyes. I want the boy who plays Quidditch with me any time day or night, puts aside his own homework to help me with my potions essays, stood up to the entire Gryffindor House to defend the idea of us. There's no one like Draco. Even if you took all those things away there would still be no one like him. I don't have the words to describe it, to describe him. I only know that it's amazingly, unbelievably beautiful.

We find a rhythm easily, because we know what we want and how we want it. I know that if I shift that way and move just so, we both see stars.

~~~~~~~

"Ahh..."

I arch back as I cry out, fingernails digging into tender skin. I collapse heavily onto Harry, who suddenly arches up against me with a sharp cry. Damn good thing he did have me lock the door. If anyone was out there... but even if they were, there's no way they're getting through that locking charm. One thing you most definitely learn if you share a bedroom and bathroom with your schoolmates is locking charms.

I place a kiss to Harry's temple, which is a bit damp with sweat. The Infirmary isn't one of the cooler rooms in the castle, and we didn't really do much to counteract that, now did we? He shifts slightly, and settles back onto the pillows.

"Wow. That was - "

"Amazing?" I supply.

"Quick."

"Shut up, Mr. Two-Seconds-Later."

"Don't worry, I'm willing to give it a second chance."

"Brat."

"Love you."

At that I can't help but soften. "Love you too."

~~~~~~~

With a contented sigh Draco shifts over.

"Your feet are cold."

"So give me some of the blanket."

"The bed's too small."

"S'only made for one person."

"There are two of us."

"Very good."

"Shuddup. Trying to sleep here." And with that he jabs me with his elbow.

A small hiss escapes me. This time of pain.

Next thing I know Draco is hovering over me, one hand lightly touching my hip. Speedy little bugger...

"Harry? Did I hurt you?"

Can't help but smile. It's kind of weird to see him so concerned. But nice. In an almost annoyingly fluffy-and-warm kind of way. Must resist urge to simper adoringly. Must retain some semblance of masculinity...

"My ribs are bruised, that's all. But that wasn't you." Some random curse or another. Or maybe from when I fainted and hit the floor hard enough to knock myself into next week. Either/Or.

"Oh. Good. Didn't want to hurt you."

And with that he bends down and places a kiss on each rib.

~~~~~~~

"They aren't not all bruised," Harry protests breathlessly. I look down at him critically. He does look a little pale...

"You aren't going to die on me, are you? Because, frankly, necrophilia is not my thing."

"I'm not going to die!"

Have I mentioned he's gorgeous when he's mad?

"All right, you're the picture of health." I flop back onto the bed and pull him towards me. He settles comfortably into my arms, like it's second nature, like that's where he's always been.

"Ron and Hermione will probably be busting down the door any second."

"Blankets covering all your naughty parts?"

"Yes, thanks," he says dryly. One of his hands comes up to curl in my hair. "We haven't talked about your father yet."

"And we don't have to."

Harry shakes his head. "I killed him."

"He was trying to kill you."

"He was your father!"

"And I loved him. I did. I don't want anyone to ever not think that. But I'm not giving up loving either of you. The great thing about love, Harry, is that you don't have to choose."

I suppose that really sums it up. Love isn't about saying sorry, and it isn't about being right or wrong. It isn't a delusion, or blind. It isn't once in a lifetime. Gods, can you imagine loving one person in your whole life? Sure, love screws with your head and makes you act like a complete idiot, but if the end result is right, looking like an idiot doesn't seem so bad. Especially since you have another person to act like an idiot with you.

Said idiot snuggles closer.

~~~~~~~

If you think I've got an answer to what love is, you're wrong. I don't have the foggiest. Love's a tricky thing. With Draco, it wasn't some big thing happening, like 'whoa, the planets just realigned'. It was more this... this subtle shift, where everything came into place. It didn't have to be big. It didn't have to be anything but the two of us. That's the whole point, isn't it? The two of us.

And I could start to freak out over this. How is this going to end up? Can we do this, the two of us? Is this something that can last? But not all questions can be answered, or even have to be. Love's a work in progress. It always will be. But right now, I'm in love with him, he's in love with me, and we're together. So. I guess that's it, really. I don't know where we'll be five, ten, twenty years down the road. If we'll be together at all. It's just destiny. I think what happens, will happen. And whether Draco and are destined to be together, I don't know, but I can sure as hell hope.