Chapter 3
Harry and Draco made up, as they always did and the kiss was never spoken of. The eighth years began steadily sinking back into that familiar routine of studying when May crept up on them.
Corridors, Common rooms, Dorms and Courtyards alike; all swallowed in a thick silence. Weekends at Hogwarts were normally filled with life, but not this one. Monday was somehow much louder. The silences were deeper, yet strong-willed speeches and roaring bouts of rattling sobs broke up those great spans of quiet.
Draco kept to himself for the most part, his left forearm firmly covered. He even went as far as to use a sticking charm on his sleeve. He wasn't certain what would happen if anyone saw it. They all knew he had it, of course- but on that day? He wouldn't risk it. Not even with his closest friends, if only to spare upsetting them.
He stayed away from the memorials and graves for the most part -not feeling like he belonged with the mourning. He showed sorrow and regret in his own, quiet ways that day. Leaving flowers and Honeydukes chocolate for those he had hurt, and thought gravely of those who had died. It was during one of those memorials, that he found Harry- rushing out of the castle in a mess of juddering limbs and laboured breathing.
Draco remembered feeling a hesitation, then. Should he approach The Boy Who Lived Twice, on the very day of his namesake? Talk to the leading force of light, with the dark mark engraved beneath his sleeve? It felt wrong, but so did leaving his friend, Harry, alone in the midst of what looked to be a severe panic attack.
Draco took off sprinting in pursuit of the Gryffindor, "Harry!"
Whether he heard him or not, Harry kept running like prey, his breathing a hum; his limbs a blur; until he reached the black lake. There, he slid to the floor, trousered knees damp in the lapping waters, neck a dark red and face impossibly wet beneath his eyes.
"Harry?"
It was like he was in some kind of trance- miles away from where his body slumped crumpled; defeated; at the shore beneath a dimming sky.
He eventually nodded, his chest still rattling with unsteady gulps of air. "I- Yes, Draco. Draco."
"Are you ok?" The green tie stood a few feet away, looking down at the Gryffindor in a loss for what to do.
"I-" Harry's voice cracked, and the blonde could tell he was trying hard not to cry. "Sometimes I wish I had stayed dead the second time" his voice was quiet, but the confession louder than Draco could bear.
"You can't honestly feel that way, Harry? With all the good you've done for the world?" He managed it calmly but he certainly didn't feel that way. His heart was in his ears and his body felt so cold it burned.
"Neville could have finished it. I know he could've."
"Would be less poetic that way, though." Harry's replying smile was a bitter one.
"Would have been even more poetic if I'd died. The boy who lived." His smile turned into something venomous. "The sacrificial lamb"
Draco knelt down next to him, water be damned.
"Do you know about all of that?" Harry asked, in a tone that would have better suited a conversation about the weather.
"All of what?"
"The whole... having part of Voldemort's soul tied to mine. Having to die, in order to kill him"
"No, but I thought it would be that sort of thing. You don't survive Avada by chance. Nor do you use it to kill a baby unless there is something else at play. And of course, the prophet had its theories, throughout the years. None were correct, of course, but some were close."
Harry nodded glumly. "I didn't know. I should have done, really. It's obvious now. But I was too busy trying not to die.." that grim smile, again; "..to realise it's what I ultimately had to do"
Draco couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"I had been running for so long. And not just- like, during seventh year. Or even all of Hogwarts. My whole life. Dumbledore sent me to the Dursleys to break my spirit, I think. He didn't want the sacrifice to think its life was worth anything.
Harry fully turned to him, then; clutching his arms desperately. "And you know what the worst part is? I don't hate him. I could never hate him" his voice broke, eyes shiny; "And I have no idea why."
His throat felt just as strained as Harry's, when he went to speak. "You trusted him. He manipulated you, Harry. You were eleven, and he took advantage of your nativity"
Harry began to sob, then. Great beads of tears slid down his cheeks and his head hung low; his fringe nearly dipping into the icy water at their knees. Draco thought he just might break, in seeing that. In seeing someone so strong -someone who won a war- crumble in on themselves.
"It's because - because - he was right" The raven tried to swallow but it seemed to be a struggle. "I don't matter. I was supposed to save everyone - and I tried, I promise I tried - but they're dead. So many are dead."
"Harry, it wasn't your fault. You saved so many people.."
"Fred, Lavender, Mad-Eye, oh, Merlin- Remus and Tonks..."
"Harry what you did was inhuman. You couldn't have done more"
"Teddy. Poor, poor Teddy. All alone."
"He has you, Harry"
"Poor Teddy," Harry choked out between rattling breaths, his eyes screwed shut.
Tears prickled Draco's eyes, but he blinked them away harshly. Harry needed him, and it would be no good them both crying.
Instead, he held the Gryffindor's face in his hands; his nails digging into the raven's jaw, "What about me, Harry? You saved me. In every way, Harry- in every way. You didn't have to, but you did. I owe you my life for that. You know that, don't you? I'd be dead. Long dead."
Draco could only watch as Harry's resolve crumbled. His eyes; impossibly big, bright and a striking green; were all the blonde could look at. Draco could see the kiss coming from a mile away. He felt it in the weight of the Gryffindor's gaze; sensed it in the invisible shimmer of his magic as it crackled between the pair. The tension was a storm; thundering, flashing bright and fierce. It was a spec of dust in the light; slow. Ebbing. Inevitable. But that had always been them, Draco supposed. Disputed; Destined.
Harry felt cold against his mouth, and the shaking hands desperately clinging onto his own were just as bad. He let Harry take his warmth. Take what he needed, before fresh, beaded tears seeped between them and Harry reluctantly let go.
The silence was fragile. The peace, the still- all of it glass. All of it frozen. Their breaths met and wove and thawed the quiet until those evergreen gems glistened with tears once again. For the first time, Draco couldn't bring himself to leave, although he knew he should. Should've already. Instead, he pulled the Gryffindor against him; cradling his head in his arms because no one deserved to feel such consuming pain. Least of all, Harry Potter.