"It's worth it to live, isn't it?" Harry asks, although his words are steady, his eyes betray him.
Draco gulped, feeling as if whatever words he says won't be the right thing to let out. He break the eye contact between the two of them, looking to the side, eyes drawn to the floor.
Harry let out a deep sigh, knowing the other boy won't answer him, he continues.
"To live, so you can fight for your mother's sake. To live, for your family. To live for....," he drags the last word, seemingly shaken, as if he, himself couldn't believe saying it, "Us."
The blonde boy blink his eyes rapidly, his hands that were both clenching to his side are shaking at the admittance of the brunette.
Then, as if he needs to make sure Draco know what's exactly Harry is saying, he asks.
"Isn't 'us' something to look forward to?"
"'Us'? There's an us?" His voice is shaking as he asks. His silver eyes looking up, deep into the emerald hue eyes of the brunette. Trying to find any lies. Or a way to justify whatever the other is saying is false or some kind of misunderstanding that needs to be corrected.
(But Harry never lied, not for himself at the very least. Not to the people he cherish, and not to the person he is in love with.
That's why it's his greatest weakness, he clings onto the people who shows him a sliver of attention, his desperateness to be anything more than a freak, and more than just a savior, is something to be pity and fear at.
After all, desperation makes you do dumb and bad things, as much as love does the same.
It happened to Peter Pettigrew, to Sirius Black and to him.)
He smiles, "Yeah, of course there's an us."
To be wanted is to want in the first place. Harry is someone who's never had anyone to love, because it is expected that he will not be love in return. He doesn't dare to go beyond, to reach for something more, to be pleased in return, this is the results of his conditioning done by his aunt and uncle.
But for the first time, he dare to do the opposite.
Loving someone is far from what he expected. It hurts, the hole in his chest is suffocating him, taking more and more. Sometimes, it feels like he's being torn apart at the seams, watching the way other people loves and the way they didn't need to keep it a secret. His throat hurts and his mouth feels heavy.
It feels a lot like dying, he realizes.
In the slowest way one could die by.
Dying like this might be the best thing that could ever happened to him. Being in love and all.
(This is worth it, he thinks. As he cards his fingers through Draco's hair.)
Draco Malfoy is someone who stand by his ideals, by what he is taught. He learn how to dissect and crush someone with his cruel words. He learn how to hide behind a facade as he grow more and more weary.
(And having more secrets to hide, to lie, to deceive.)
When he went against his ideals, it feels like shackles around him loosen up, as more time passes that he spends with the person he loves so dearly.
(So hurtfully and secretly.)
He didn't think he could, or if ever, go against his own family though. He's not like the others, no matter how much his father put him and his mother through hell, he will love them, because if not, why would he put them first?
Why was he begging for forgiveness to his so called lord? If not for them?
(He had nothing left other than them, except well, his money. And money is all beautiful and such, but the emptiness won't ever go away.)
Perhaps at first, he had followed the lord for the sake of Abraxas Malfoy, the same thing Draco did. Later, he realizes that it's no good for his family, for the people he loves, but it was far too late.
Lucius Malfoy has fallen from his grace. Draco Malfoy will not.
The first time Harry saw the scars was when they were going to sleep. (In a far corner of the castle, where no one could disturb them or find out.)
Draco had let him touch them, letting his finger lingers from each scar to another. He had kiss each of them, leaving a tingle in its' wake. It's so domestic that Draco let out a single tear. And rest his head against Harry's shoulder.
Harry would ask if he wants to talk about it, and Draco will answer honestly as he can.
In return, two weeks after, Harry show his, from the one that was bitten by the snake to the scars that were left behind by his aunt and uncle.
Draco was bitter, he had kissed Harry to show his anger, the way teeth clacks against another, the way that if there were other people to see, they would say that he was trying to tear the brunette apart and that Harry was letting himself be tear apart.
(He doesn't deserve this, is what they thought about each other.
But in truth, they both don't.
After all, aren't they just two boys in love?)
Sometimes, he would ask himself, is this what he truly wants? Or was this his way of proving that he isn't what they tried to make him be?
But his heart says otherwise, the way it beats at the thoughts of his lover. The way his mind wander about him. The way he worries. It's all true.
It hurts, to keep them a secret. Harry wants him more each time.
Going against what he is taught feels like betraying himself.
He would blankly stare into nothingness, eyes wide with no emotion. The fresh cuts on his hands feel like a reward as much as it is a punishment to himself.
It had given him a sense of control. In a way nothing ever make him feel like. Him going against his ideals makes him feel less heavy.
The aching in his heart will never stop, it will heals but the phantom pains will always be there.
(As it is was never a psychical pain.
You could never fix emotional pain, they both wish they could.
If only to heal the other but themselves.)
There are two boys that are in love. They are enemies by default. They will fight each other, not with each other. They will hurt and tear each other with their harsh, cruel words. They will learn to forgive and find peace. They will eventually heals.
They will ask, what's wrong with being in love?