~You see all the flowers in the weeds
You're scared of the dark when you sleep
You cover up your arms with your sleeves
Even in hundred-degree heat
Your father was awfully mean
Your favorite color is green
It reminds you of the summer you turned three
Runnin' through sprinklers on your street
And you laugh and you dance in the wind
And you sway and you hug and you kiss
But there's darkness behind those eyes
Even when you smile
Oh, summer child
You don't have to act like all you feel is mild
You don't really love the sun, it drives you wild
You're lyin', summer child~
Harry hated Draco’s father, truly. He was always so rude and put the older boy through so much pressure. Though his mother admits that Lucius was too rough, she doesn’t dare speak about it.
As summer came around, it was time to return home, Harry with the Dursleys and Draco with his mother and father. They’ve both been dreading it for months. Both stayed in Hogwarts during winter break, but no matter how much they wished to do that again they can’t. It’s already toward the middle of June and they just had to last through break until school was back in September.
With how the temperatures were changing there were more flowers and weeds appearing. People were wearing their casual cooler clothes as much as possible, and keeping the lights off. Everything is decorated and colouring in brighter yellows and oranges, and everyone is enjoying it. Besides Malfoy. To him, it meant going home to a father that doesn’t truly care for him, and a mother who can’t help but agree with those horrible ways because she doesn’t want to fight back. It meant being forced to do things that are unkind even when he didn’t want to. It meant being away from the people he actually likes for two months straight. He never enjoyed the hot summers that he spent at home.
During the summer, Draco strictly wears his school robes and if he mustn't then he is wearing blacks and greens to match his house. He sits outside as much as possible, where the weeds grow in solitaire and lets the heat hit him, even in long sleeves, similarly to how he is today, sitting quietly with only a book in his lap. The summer railways reminded him of older memories he’d kept of his mother and him playing outside in the summer rain when he was just a kid, but it never seems to rain anymore. Despite that, he focuses excessively on how everything was before life changed. Instead of reading the book, he just thinks about the past, not bothering to focus on the present. It’s what he focused on so much that he didn’t hear Harry walking up behind him.
‘Draco?’ Harry called out as he sat on the ground next to him.
Though Draco is startled by the sudden voice, he calms when he realizes who it is- but just for a moment before his traditional ‘Malfoy’ facade returns.
‘What…?’ he questions, picking a lone yellow flower from the grass.
‘Are you… Are you sure you want to go?’ the younger asked.
‘I have no choice unless my parents say otherwise. I know my mother would but I don't want to cause more of a rift in the house of Malfoy than there already is…. Either way, you're not staying so I’m not either.’
‘I’m sure McGonagall can do something to help us both stay. Or Dumbledoor himself.’ Harry was always the more hopeful one, no matter how bad the scenario was. That’s one thing that Draco has always adored about him, but at the moment it seemed a bit anticlimactic.
‘Harry, my parents can’t know at all, and if they’re told that it’s mandatory for me then all hell would break loose. I’d rather just go over having a horrible punishment just because I wanted to stay’
It’s obvious that Harry was upset, he didn’t hide that fact but instead of talking about it, he just nodded. Draco looked at him for a moment, directly into his eyes, just to express his thoughts without words. It’ll be fine.
Harry over a bit to pick a flower before turning back and handing it to Malfoy. It was a small but pretty green flower. A Green zinnia. Daco thankfully took it as expected, muttering a soft thank you despite the fact that the both of them are basically in a field of the coloured flowers. The boy who lived was one who knew Draco best. He knew what his birthday was, and his favourite colour(green). He knew about his home life, and why he was always so sad or mean. He knew his favourite star and his favourite season, and why he wore long sleeves even in hundred-degree heat. But most importantly, he knew Draco himself, good and bad.
Draco twists the flower stem between his fingers as both boys sit in silence, probably planning what book he is going to use to press this flower like he does with all of the other flowers Harry gives him. Moments like this were calm. The silence didn’t feel like punishment nor did it feel tense, just peaceful. Though they were both dreading going home for the summer, they could have moments like these just to calm down.
‘I want to stay, but it’s best if I go.’ Draco breaks the silence, wanting to add clarification, his facade faltering.
‘That’s fine, I guess… I doubt the Dursleys would like the fact that I wouldn’t come home either…’
Draco scoots a bit closer to the other, resting his head softly on Harry’s shoulder. In response to this action Harry draped his arm over Draco's shoulder. Even in the summer, they could always be close to each other, and in places like these, they were.
‘How aren’t you melting. It’s so hot and you’re wearing a thick sweater.’ Harry asks, feeling how thick Dracos sweater is in comparison to the lighter shirts that he usually wears.
‘I’m fine. It’s just a bit impractical but whatever.’
‘Do you have something under it?’
Draco just nods, not bothering to use actual words in this scenario. He knows what Potter is going to say and is hoping that he doesn’t.
‘Just take the sweater off then, Draco.’ There are the dreaded words that Draco was expecting. ‘I don’t care, you know that.’
Draco pulls away slightly, contemplating whether or not he actually should. Reluctantly, he starts to remove his sweater relieving a regular black short sleeved button up underneath. The only reason he dreaded it is because of the scars that litter his arms. Some of them were caused by the countless times his father thought he wasn’t good enough, and some from when he himself thought the same. Harry is the only one who knows about them other than his close friends. Harry has scars of his own- and not just the lightning bolt scar that everyone can always see. Living with the abuse of the Dursleys meant so much more.
Draco moved back to sit how he was before with Harry, resting his head on his shoulder once more. They sat like this together talking about who knows what until dinner was called, glad that they had finished all of their classes for the day, but hating it simultaneously. They’ll both have to take one day at a time together until summer comes, and when it does, they’ll have to do the same by themselves until school is back in. It’ll take getting used to, but they can’t control it.
They’re two worlds apart.