Altus Amor

Hard Love

It was so strange, how in only a couple of days, Harry’s entire world had been turned upside down, and he was left hanging by a mere thread. How a reunion with an old enemy could corrupt his beliefs, making him see things he has never seen and feel things he could only dream about. It was a sensation deeply surreal, amazing, and deathly frightening, and Harry didn’t know whether to run away from it or try his hardest to pull the wild emotions closer.

When Draco had kissed him it had been--God, too incredible for words. It was as if all of life’s pleasures, all of flying and friendship and family had been neatly packed together into one unforgettable moment. The surge of passion had nearly filled that empty space in his heart left over from his parents death, if just for one moment. Nearly.

But then he had pulled away; shoved Draco off of him so abruptly that all that was left from the kiss was the lingering taste of Draco’s bittersweet blood, and a warm, gentle sensation spreading from his lips throughout his entire body.

The idea that Draco was under the influence of something else entirely was too much to bear. He had felt it: felt the desperate way Draco had clung to him as if he was his only wish to survive. Harry knew that that action had come purely from the his heart, whether he had meant to do it or not, and it was a feeling shared equally between them. The only question left to answer was if they were both ready to take the chance, and Harry understood as well as he understood Draco’s emotions, that there was something holding him back. And it took sheer, strong willpower not to just jump inside his head and fish the information out.

“Fuck,” Draco said, breaking the almost-unbearable silence with a single, distraught word. “FUCK!” he stated, louder this time. Harry cowered slightly, mind racing, heart in his throat and dreading the other boy’s next words.

“Oh Harry,” He mimicked, and Harry shut his eyes. “What the crap kind of a line is that? ‘Oh Harry,’ Shit! There I go again, sounding like a fucking idiot.”

“Draco! Calm. Down.”

“No! NO! I will not FUCKING be calm! I have had to deal with this BY MYSELF for nearly a WEEK NOW! How many weeks are left in the month, Harry?” Harry was very confused and quite a bit frightened, but nonetheless answered.

“Three...” he whispered.

“THAT’S RIGHT! Goddamnit--” he uttered the last part in a whisper, body curling up beside the wall, knees pressed tightly against his chest. “I don’t want to...don’t want to, Harry...” he let his voice trail off, leaving his head to fall in his hands. Harry gulped. Whatever Draco’s problem was, it was not something to take lightly. The most Harry new about the boy was that he didn’t break down in front of just anybody, and even if Harry was elite, that didn’t constitute for his sudden loss of control.

Timidly he walked over to where Draco sat, eyes closed and breath falling in short gasps.

“Draco...?” Harry shook the blonde. “Draco. Get up.” But he simply lay there, head resting on his arms and a look of angst strewn across his pale features. Harry shook him once more, then realized that he had passed out. Shit. What’s happened to him? Trepidation and concern built up inside his stomach, and he dropped down next to Draco, his arm around the other boy’s shoulder and face close to his cheek.

Abandoning former hesitation, Harry slowly closed his eyes and calmed his inhalations, taking in deep, relaxing breaths. As he let go of his pain and worry, he could feel the world fall away from around him, leaving nothing but the pure concentration of a acutely centered mind. He was ready to enter Draco’s thoughts.

The image he held in front of him at first was one of a spiraling white orb, twisting around with an unearthly beauty. He concentrated on this vision, noting how peaceful and completely powerful he felt when he drew from the unfathomable energy. Gradually he left the pristine image to the back of his awareness, expanding his mind out to touch with Draco’s. A spark shot through him and at first he retaliated, but then remembered his purpose: to discover what was wrong with Draco. His Draco.

In his head he saw the wall that stood as a barrier on the other boy’s subconscious, and as he drew nearer, he could sense a growing shadow that loomed over his being. Why should darkness corrupt Draco so deeply? The notion alarmed Harry, yet made him ever more curious to continue on.

He moved his awareness closer and felt the very edge of the darkness: a deep and fierce cloud that hung over him; a force greater than his own will and quite unpenetratable. Emotions of terror and dread leaked through the border, leaving palpable traces of Draco’s current state of mind. Harry moved closer, careful as to not get pulled under violent waves of energy like he did before. He had to be wary. This was Draco. Vigilance was a necessity for someone who struck Harry more than anyone before.

Lightly he reached out and physically touched the other boy’s arm. It was cold: too cold to be normal, yet it created the connection Harry needed. Gradually he felt his heart joining the rapid rhythm of Draco’s. He was with him. He was a part of him, and nothing in the world could take away the sensation of being so perfectly accustomed to someone like that. But.

But there was a presence with them. No, more like a ominous sense of hatred, blacker than anything Harry had ever felt before. Searching more he realized the abnormality of Draco’s brain patterns, and the great amount of pain that reached out from...somewhere! Goddamnit, am I going to have to fucking go in there?! he asked himself, dreading the horror of what was behind Draco’s barrier.

Mentally he took a step forward. Now or never... The barrier nearly crashed down upon Harry as he forced himself through it, but he pushed back, determination set on finding the cause of what was hurting him. Gloomy colors swirled around him, and for a moment he was lost in a sea of blacks and grays, but he kept in mind his central light and was able to draw strength from that, shifting his psyche to a part of Draco’s mind which appeared nearly trapped by the sinister emotions.

Brushing out troubling thoughts, Harry found a bright orb of twisting purples and forget-me-not blues, bright yellows and a deep, deep maroon that sent an intense pulse through the rest of the hues. Is this what Draco is really like? God... Harry examined the colors, absorbing feelings of self-discipline and determination and...God, and love...Why were all of these being overshadowed by darkness? And a darkness so incredibly powerful?

Among the mixed emotions Harry could sense an overwhelming sense of sadness, one so deep and powerful that he was nearly shoved out of his mind through shock and desolation. A sickly sense of depression worked its way into Harry’s heart. He was feeling what Draco felt: this incredible, undying anguish, profoundly seeded in his consciousness. It was the sort of thing a dementor would feel and...God, Draco was so miserable...how could he not show it? How could he form a facade so thick?

Harry was beginning to realize what a mistake it had been to invade Draco the way he did. Releasing his hold on the other boy’s mind, Harry found himself opening his eyes, his hands clenched tightly onto Draco’s arm. He could feel the fast, irregular beating of the Slytherin’s heart, and worry once again rose to the surface. Oh...Draco... It was horrible. He couldn’t stand watching him like that: watching him breath in and out in complete unhappiness. He couldn’t stand to watch him as an invisible force drained the life out of him. Draco. Draco, what is wrong with you...?

Harry knelt beside him, watching his breath rise and fall, observing each and every part of his body. The way his height seemed to match exactly with his own, the way his silver-blonde hair, ashen skin, and light gray eyes melded together to form a flawless harmony...he was so beautiful, and Harry wanted him so much...so much that it hurt to look at him. Lord, how had this happened? How had he fallen so hard for Draco Malfoy? What was it about him that made him so fucking irresistible? And why could he shake the feeling that all of this could be taken away from him at any moment?

Taken away...oh, they needed to get going! Hogsmeade...Tynan Comair...the information. The end of the tunnel couldn’t be that much longer...perhaps a mile or so? And they had at least five days, if he remembered correctly. But what would he do about Draco? Harry supposed he could lift him with the help of a simple levitating charm. Or there was the obvious, muggle choice: carrying him. And oh, that sounded much more exciting than a Wingardium Leviosa. Yes: he would take the riveting blonde in his arms and transport him to the exit.

With a newfound sense of purpose and enthusiasm, Harry gracefully placed his arms under Draco’s shoulders and lifted him upright, extinguishing the fire and carrying him off into the darkness: the ideal vision of a furtive knight.

__________________________________________________

Warmth: that was his first thought. Warmth accompanied by an amazing sense of comfort and security. Am I...am I dead? In heaven? Draco though, before desperately realizing that had he died, he would probably not be going to heaven.

His previous conscious moments washed over him. The headache--God, it had been so intense...the worst yet. It pounded and beat on the side of hi brain like a sledgehammer, threatening to burst. His heart sped, and sweat poured down his face. It had felt as if he was going to die, like there was no hope left anymore, as if the world had suddenly come crashing down. And he wasn’t sure what had possessed him at that moment, but there was some innate force that had taken control of his actions and made him...

Holy Shit. He had kissed Harry. And not just that--Harry had kissed him back. It had been pure fire: the sweat and the pain and the complete ecstasy of holding Harry in his arms pulsing throughout his body, making his blood run hot and his breath like the flames before him. It was primal and extremely passionate, and fuck, he hadn’t even been in the right mind at the time. Or had he? In those last moments when he thought his life was ending, had he done what he truly wanted to do?

That thought sent fear through him. Love...it was so huge that he was terrified of embracing it, of jumping out there with blind faith and putting all of your heart into another person. God...how could someone do that? How could someone be completely trusting of another person? How could they live knowing that if something horrible happened to their love’s life, than their own life would end as well? Draco didn’t want to feel that. He didn’t want to feel the emotion that coincided with the deep worry for Harry. He already felt so pulled to the other boy...no. He simply couldn’t. On top of his own death and the destruction of Hogsmeade, he just couldn’t deal with love. Although....No. He refused to think of it. It hurt too damn much to think about it.

Hesitantly Draco lifted the lids of his eyes. Shit. Too bright, was his initial reaction, despite the fact that the cave eluded most light in general. He inhaled an awkward breath, feeling each pain in his lungs as he did so. It was at that moment that he became aware of all the other aches on his body, and gritted his teeth as a wave of nausea over passed him. But the hurt was over in the long run: no incredibly pulsing headache, only a dull throb that reminded him of his macabre fate. Slowly he tried to sit up, but found it oddly difficult to do so, or simply change position in general. Then it occurred to him:

He was moving. Being carried, to be more specific. But--God, Harry was carrying him...Harry was holding him tightly in his embrace...was so close that Draco could hear the steady rhythm of his heart and feel the sweat that clung to his body...felt the perfect way Draco fit into his arms...

Draco peered up at him through hazy eyes, watching the way he bit his lift as he struggled to heave the weight-that-was-Draco. Suddenly his gaze shifted to the blonde and he let out a short gasp that turned into a shriek, and dropped Draco where he was standing.

“Holy shit Malfoy!” he screamed, his hand trying frantically to calm his rapidly beating heart. “You--you scared the crap out of me!” Draco appeared non-pulsed and lay there, gazing up at the frenzied boy through innocent eyes.

“Harry Potter, my hero...” Harry rolled his eyes, then took on a look of great remorse and dropped to his knees, bending over Draco.

“Oh my god. What happened to you? Seriously, you went insane and then just sort of passed out and--”

“I’m fine.”

“But--”

“No, Harry, I’m fine. Look at me.” Draco patted his chest in a gesture that showed he was recovered. “See?” Harry nodded, his eyes lingering on the point where Draco’s fingers had vanished from. “It must just be something in the air, or maybe that jump off the tavern roof had an effect on me, but I’m perfectly alright now.” Harry watched him skeptically, and for a moment Draco saw something burning inside his eyes; some deep knowledge and understanding, and...sympathy?

“Right.” Harry replied. “Ok. Are you up to walking?” Draco nodded, then to prove himself, stood stylishly and held a hand out for Harry to do the same. With a small grin, Harry took Draco’s offer and jumped to his feet, ready to get the hell out of the blasted hell-tunnel. The Slytherin almost felt like asking Harry why he hadn’t simply used a levitating charm to transport him, but decided against it when he saw a secretive blush coloring his colorless cheeks.

“So how far is the exit?” He questioned.

“Oh just another mile or so--not that long.” Draco presented a smile that meant something along the likes of ‘that’s cool,’ but inside he was grimacing at the thought of walking a mile. It wasn’t even that long, but Draco was so very tired and sore and--but oh, being with Harry was worth it. Every moment with Harry was worth it.

He mentally slapped himself. No. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that, was he? His mind drifted back to that morning - the last morning - he had awoken in his own bed; how entirely safe he felt, thinking about Harry...how Harry was his light...his hope. Was he being totally selfish for needing the other boy like that, or should he still try to pursue the ardor despite previous discrepancies? Lord, why couldn’t anything be simple...

“Are you positive you’re feeling up to walking, Draco? You look a little--”

“For the last time, I’m fine. If I wanted to summon a floating cot I would, Potter.” Well, that had come out rather arrogant. Eh...

There was a pause, followed by a ‘what the fuck’ from the blonde. Draco had obviously discovered Mr. Twig.

“Let me guess, Harry. A little thing I did while I was on my little trip of madness?” Harry chuckled.

“I thought it was pretty funny. I mean, who would have though: Draco Malfoy playing dress up with his wand. Come to think if it, I was quite shocked.” Draco smirked.

“Oh, so you’ve never come to think of my wand before, have you?”

“God, Draco...” Trailing Harry’s remark was a strange silence, in which Draco was immediately confronted with the image of him and Harry pressed closely together on the passageway floor, their lips sealed in a passionate kiss...

Not thinking about that. But how could one not? Oh, life was so complicated. Much too complicated for Draco’s standards, but then again, when had it ever been simple? Each day since his birth had been a struggle to live...a battle with his own willpower to even get up in the morning. Perhaps he should be glad it would all be over soon...No! What about Harry? Fuck. There life goes being difficult again.

It was Draco who finally broke the hush.

“Life...it's like a box of chocolates, eh, Harry? A cheap, thoughtless perfunctory gift that nobody ever asks for. Unreturnable because all you ever get back is another box of chocolates. So you're stuck with this indefinable whipped mint crap that you mindlessly wolf down when there's nothing else left to eat. Sure, once in a while there's a peanut butter cup or an English toffee but they're gone too fast and the taste is fleeting. You end up with nothing but broken bits filled with hardened jelly and teeth-shattering nuts, but only if you're desperate enough to eat those. Other than that all you've got left is an empty box filled with useless brown paper wrappers.” Harry stared at him, completely stunned. What? he thought. It’s not that bad of an analogy.

“Where the hell did that come from?” he asked, still slightly phased by Draco’s speech.

“You know me. Ever the mystery.”

“Your correlations are beginning to frighten me.”

“Well, Potter, I never said I was easy to deal with.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” Draco looked at Harry, his eyes carrying a challenging glimmer. He licked his lips; he couldn’t really help it. Harry always seemed to have a bizarre effect on him.

“You sure? No one has before. Something about me being too difficult...”

“No, really?”

“Sarcasm. It sounds nice with you, Harry.”

“So you’ve noticed.”

“Look--about what I did before I passed out--” Draco said, finally conjuring the nerve to say what he had been wanting to say since he woke up.

“No. Really, I understand. You weren’t yourself.”

“Harry, what I mean to say is--thank you.” Harry gasped, a look of shock covering his features.

“Thank you?”

“Yeah...for taking care of me and all. And for, well, not killing me when I kissed you.” Harry blushed at Draco’s mention of this, a bashfulness playing on his face.

“Oh, it was no problem...I mean, your welcome...err, I wouldn’t kill you, Draco.” Draco grinned.

“I’m sure not, Harry. You would only make me plummet off of a very tall building.”

“Yes, pain is always an unavoidable side effect of my plans...”

“I think it’s the Gryffindor blood.”

“I was almost put in Slytherin, you know.”

“Brag about it now, do you?”

“I’m...not bragging.” Draco eyed him curiously.

“Come on. I think I’m going to faint again if I have to stare at dirt walls any longer.” At the mention of this Harry and Draco set off again down the shadowy passageway.

__________________________________________________

Draco puzzled Harry, that was for sure. He was a character all in himself, and the dark haired boy wanted nothing more than to take him apart and decipher each and every angle of his being; to tame the beast inside of the wild Slytherin. But was it even possible to conquer the blazing passion? Was it possible to tame fire?

The strode together in silence, the only sound that of the taps of their shoes, and Harry marveled at how comfortable it was just to be alone with the blonde. No forced conversation, no stuttered sentences, just...relaxed stillness. Not to say that there was nothing going on between them. Harry could feel Draco’s emotions, as clear as reading the pages of a book, (save for the fact that books didn’t usually thwap you and call you a little bastard).

Harry himself was deep in worry for his...could he call Draco his friend? He supposed he could...friend. Such an incredible darkness drifted over him, and he couldn’t help but wonder...what was Draco hiding? Was is dark magic? Because Harry figured he could handle that...or was it something deeper? Something so rooted in Draco that to separate it from him would be fatal? Something deeper than love?