Just A Little Ash
"Do you think there's actual ghosts in ghost peppers?" Harry hummed absentmindedly, his fingers reaching out to the packages. The Ritalin always made him so curious, the strange focuses were comforting- it felt more natural to see through fluorescent fuzz.
"They're peanuts, Potter. Just get your pack, muggle stores aren't that safe."
"Safer here than.." he didn't know how to put it into words, the fluorescent lights and the fresh smell of construction was calming. It felt like that train station, but no one expected anything of him there. No saving the world, no going back, just money.
"Three packs of ports, 100's." Draco told the cashier, Harry could almost taste that snobbery he knew from school.
"It's 30.84," the cashier kept looking at Harry, like she knew him. He was used to that in the wizarding world, maybe she was a muggle-born. Draco pulled on the sleeve of Harry's jacket, the cigarettes stacked in his hand, pulling him towards the exit. Harry didn't know who paid.
"Good luck with that." the cashier snorted as they left.
Harry stopped outside the store, trying to catch up as time felt like it was leaving him behind. He realized he didn't eat.
"You alright?"
"Jus' need to sit down for a bit," Harry checked to see if his nose was bleeding before gesturing for the packs Draco was holding.
Draco got a fug out for himself before handing Harry the packs. He dropped one, hands shakier than they should be, staring at it for a moment before deciding it didn't matter and taking a seat on the curb. The concrete was cold against Harry's thighs, it grounded him. Everything felt like that train station, if it wasn't for the sharp burn running through his lips he wouldn't know if he was even real. He knew he was shaking, the soft movements, magic vibrating under his skin. It kept him from feeling the palpitations, the Ritalin had that affect. Tiny heart attacks.
"Potter," Harry looked up, Draco's voice always commanded attention, even if it was as soft as it was now, "You burned yourself, you git."
"S'fine, just a little ash." Draco's eyes were fixed on Harry's thigh, a little hole in his pants where the cigarette ash had fallen. It hurt a little, when Harry noticed it, but the winter had numbed his leg already.
"You're a loon."
Harry jus hummed, inhaling the last of the smoke before standing, almost falling as his body adjusted. He held his hand out for Draco, their eyes met and Harry noticed how pretty those gray eyes really were. Harry had never really looked close enough at Draco's eyes, always shying away from them during school and harshly averting them after the trials. He could see the reflection of the sky in them, dark clouds on blue sky, moving so fluidly. It was beautiful. Beautiful until he felt the sharp ringing in his ears, glass connecting with his skin. He held the pill bottle tightly in his hand, careful not to lose it.
"We won't let you stop us again, Harry Potter." A voice boomed in his head, like his link with Voldemort. But he was dead. He is dead. Voldemort can't possibly be alive. Right?
His vision went black. Then green. Then everything was that awful white. He heard trains.