Spoons
Draco’s footsteps were wobbly as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room.
He stepped through the large doors to see his friends, circled around the table playing a game of cards. They were laughing and shoving each other, and it almost broke his heart.
To their knowledge, he and Harry were still spending all their hours together, were still communicating for that matter.
They believed Harry was falling for the blonde. That was why they weren’t worried when Neville told them it was no longer an option to have surgery, and Draco too wasn’t worried.
He had thought things were going his way for a start.
He didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth. But it had to come out soon. He just didn’t know when.
Neville saw him and called him over, “Draco, come on, we’ll deal you in.”
“What’re you playing?” He asked.
“Spoons, Harry taught it to me,” He said, dishing out the deck of cards among them.
Draco’s stomach keened at the Gryffindor’s name. He felt his throat clench on the feeling of tears. He swallowed them down.
“So where were you today, flying with Harry?” Pansy teased, nudging his elbow with her own.
Draco tensed. “You’re too funny,” He bit, nudging her back. He needed a way to get out of this circle so he could pass out on his satin pink bed and wake up next year.
“Actually Dray, how is it going with Harry,” Blaise asked. “I’m dying to know.”
“We all are,” Pansy smirked.
Draco was going to vomit. Not just flowers, a whole damn garden. He watched his friends lean in to him, hanging onto his future words.
Draco began to cry.
It was embarrassing. As if he hadn’t already humiliated himself in front of Harry fucking Potter, now he got the chance to humiliate himself in front of his friends.
He couldn’t stop himself. Tears poured. All the emotions and the sobs and the useless arguments he carried with him on his walk back to the common room were now pouring out onto the coffee table.
A mix of confusion and worry fell over the group, all in a matter of seconds.
“What happened?”
“What did he do?”
“Are you okay?”
There were too many questions being thrown at him at once and he shriveled into his seat.
An arm came around him in lightning speed, Pansy moving her seat closer to his.
He lost his tears as quickly as they arrived, clearing his throat. He had to tell them now, if he waited till even the next day they would be much more upset. Draco needed to be honest.
He couldn’t get himself to speak, even though he tried desperately to. His throat grew dry, practically tightening.
He couldn’t have talked even if he wanted to.
Pansy and Blaise were silent, and it was Neville who had been studying him the longest since he’d arrived.
Draco watched his eyes, constantly changing as he put the pieces together.
“He doesn’t love you, does he.”
Draco was frozen, one wrong move and he’d send his friends into a panic.
He could simply lie, right? But that would be shitty, this was his fault and he dragged his friends along for the ride. Guilt squeezed his lungs.
“No, he doesn’t.”
He felt Pansy grip his arm, his circulation soon leaving him. He heard her choke on what he assumed were suppressed tears, which only made him feel worse.
Blaise was quiet, his eyes unmoving from Draco. Neville was looking between the three, unsure if he should help his girlfriend, reassure his dying friend, or comfort the frozen one next to him.
“This is my fault,” Draco murmured. “I did this to myself.”
Pansy squeezed his arm tighter.
Draco expected he wouldn’t get much of a response from any of them. And it honestly made things easier.
“I’m sorry for putting you all through this,” He wiped the last few tears from his cheek, straightening his back with the little strength he had. “I should have listened to you, Nev, and it’s my fault.”
He locked eyes with Neville, he couldn’t read his expression.
“I’m sorry.”
They didn’t have words. No one spoke. Draco found himself speechless now as well.
He placed his palm face up on the table, and felt each of their hands on top of his.
“I fell in love with your eyes before anything else..”
Those words followed him on his way to class. They spun on a carousel in his dreams. They chased him down the halls. The sat next to him late at night in the common room.
Harry was losing his mind.
It had been a week since their fiasco after potions, and Harry hadn’t acknowledged Draco since.
The blonde didn’t acknowledge him either. Harry wondered if he’d already gotten surgery, or he was just preparing himself for it. It couldn’t have been that quick, right?
Harry caught himself staring at Draco a few times, involuntarily of course. He seemed to lose control of his gaze whenever the blonde came into his view.
He could tell Draco caught him too, but he never reciprocated the glance. The Gryffindor shrugged it off as best he could.
Then one day, Draco didn’t show up to classes. Harry assured himself this was the time for his surgery, relieved the boy was receiving treatment.
His meals became boring, not having a boy to constantly try and catch unnoticeable looks at.
Harry stared at the dinner plate before him, Draco’s words repeating over and over in his mind.
He couldn’t get them out of his head. He couldn’t stop hearing Draco’s voice. What was the matter with him?
“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione waved a hand in front of his gaze, taking a seat across from him at the Gryffindor table. “Something on your mind?”
Harry felt his mouth dry and swallowed. He couldn’t put his finger on what he felt, all he knew was it was bugging him deeply.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you tell Dumbledore? About Draco I mean,” Hermione asked.
“Huh?”
“We agreed the best thing for Draco would be to tell Dumbledore about his disease, so he could get help,” She reminded, brow furrowing. “You did tell Dumbledore, right?”
Harry gulped. “Look, Mione, maybe it’s none of our business. I mean, Draco’s sick and that sucks and all but maybe he doesn’t want us to help.”
Hermione folded her arms on the table, “Harry, he’s going to die. You realize that right?”
“But I talked to him,” Harry said.
“You did?”
“Yeah, and he agreed to have it surgically removed.”
“He did,” She pondered, not quite believing it. “But does he even know if his lover reciprocates his feelings?”
“He doesn’t.”
Realizing what he had said, Harry fell silent, his gaze dropping on his plate once again. He sensed the wide-eyed expression from Hermione.
“Well I’m not completely surprised it’s you, just a bit startled,” She admitted. Harry felt himself blush with embarrassment.
He thought for a moment. “Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know why I keep thinking about him. It’s been a week now, and we haven’t spoken since I.. well since he confronted me. I thought it would be easy to forget about him but I can’t get him out of my head.”
The more he thought, the faster he spoke, and the more his breath caught in his throat. The Gryffindor felt a wave of emotions topple him over.
Hermione lifted a brow.
Harry went on. “And he has this amazing laugh, Hermione, I can’t stop hearing it. He’s smart and witty, but he’s not mean about it like he used to be. And the more time I spent with him, the more I actually wanted to see him and when he left I was already waiting for the moment I’d see him again.”
The words were accumulating in Harry’s mind as he spoke, as if this were all new information to him too. He couldn’t stop himself.
“I just want him to be okay, and to be alive and well, you understand? Because if something were to happen to him I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
He looked at Hermione, whose mouth was agape. She seemed to be at a loss for words.
Clearing her throat, she thought aloud. “There’s something else going on here, isn’t there.”
“What are you talking about? I just care about him, okay? I mean he used to be a jerk, yeah, but I’ve had my eye on him for years now and he’s really changed. He’s sweet, actually, like really sweet. And he changed the way he usually does his hair, and his style, and it suits him well,” He rambled on.
“He’s a good person and he doesn’t deserve to die, and I need him to be okay-“Harry.” Hermione interrupted him, tilting her head like she always did when she knew something he didn’t.
“Oh shit.”
Her eyes narrowed and Harry felt the back of his neck begin to sweat. An odd feeling of butterflies and warm cheeks greeted him.
“I think I love him, Hermione.”
A boulder was flung off of Harry’s shoulders, his breath becoming easier and his posture straightened. He felt relief.
“I’d be a little surprised if you didn’t after all that you’ve just said,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “So now what, Draco’s going to be wiped of all his feelings for you.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. “Fuck, but he can’t! I just barely figured out that I love him and he won’t even love me back?”
“That’s how he felt a week ago,” Hermione butted in. Harry winced, she had a point.
He needed to find Draco.
As he scrambled to collect his things, Hermione added, “If you’re going to confess your love, at least be classy, don’t squawk about it in the Slytherin common room.”
Harry nodded her off, running out of the Great Hall. He dashed around corners and almost propelled himself into a pillar as he made his way to the Slytherin Common room.
The doors wouldn’t budge, the Slytherins had changed the password again. Feeling defeated, Harry tried once more, to no avail. He’d just have to come back tomorrow.
Giving the doors one final tug, he prepared to leave.
“Harry?”
A voice behind him caught his attention and he turned on his heel. The Gryffindor colors were warm and bright on his uniform.
Neville Longbottom.