The Boy and his Shadow
Harry woke with a yawn, the sun streaming into his window as it did every morning at dawn. He wasn't sure what time it was, as there weren't any clocks in the cabin, but as the weeks had gone by time had become more and more irrelevant. The wizard took a couple minutes just laying in bed, looking at the ceiling and enjoying the warmth of his sheets, then got up and padded downstairs in his pajamas.
He turned on the oven, putting a pan over the burner and cracking an egg into it. He made an omelette with no magic involved, then ate it and cleaned up. After, a novel about a quidditch player who was trying to win the heart of their biggest rival was calling his name, so he plopped down onto the couch and read for a bit in his pajamas.
When he'd gotten through a few chapters Harry got up, going back upstairs and changing into jeans and a long sleeved t shirt. A hike sounded good.
As he exited the cabin, well worn walking stick in hand, Harry couldn't help but let a smile cross his face.
The air was cool and fresh, smelling like early morning and wet dew. Birds were chirping in the trees, there was running water nearby gurgling peacefully. It was cool but not cold enough for a jacket, and the sun shone in broken rays through the green leaves.
It was just... nice here. Thoughts of the battle barely ever crossed his mind, and when they did he was able to work through them instead of shoving them away for later. And when he did get frustrated there was no one here to hear him yell at trees, which was liberating.
Harry walked for what seemed like hours, just enjoying the silence and thinking of nothing. He wished he could've brought his broom with him to the forest, but McGonagall said that muggles might be able to see him above the trees. That little comment had made Harry curious as to where he was, but not curious enough to actually leave the forest and find out.
The forest was his to cherish, his sanctuary. The ball of anger and despair that had been so constant in his chest had slowly ebbed away in the three weeks he'd been here, leaving him slightly emptier but also a lot less angry and dramatic. All the problems of the outside world seemed, well, less problematic.
Still deep in thought, Harry followed a trail to its end and stepped onto a small, rocky beach. A river ran three or four feet away, and across the river--
Across the river there was a grassy bank, and a there was a giant dog and a man sleeping on its shore.
The dog was bright white, and the man contrasted it in every way, black pants and shoes, except his hair, which was so white it matched the dog's fur. And his skin, which he was showing a lot of considering he didn't have a shirt on.
Harry could've recognized that hair anywhere, and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight. Even from across the river he could see that Malfoy's cheeks were flushed pink, a slight smile bigger than any Harry'd ever seen on the man's face. Harry had never really understood how pretty Draco was. Then again, Harry'd never seen him asleep, shirtless, and using a giant white dog as a pillow. And... he'd never really seen him smile.
The whole scene was amazingly picturesque, and Harry found himself unable to keep from staring. It was hard to hate someone hanging out with a dog, especially one as fluffy and huge as the one Draco was sleeping on. He just looked so peaceful, and none of the annoyance or disgust Harry usually felt at the other man's face rose up inside of him.
And then, as he took a step forward, Harry felt himself trip like a dumbass. Because of course, he hadn't been looking where he was going. Instead he'd been staring like a stalker at a sleeping person.
He hit the water with a splash, hands flying out in front of him to catch himself but just meeting more water. The river was deep, deeper than he'd expected, and the current swept away his walking stick, leaving him scrabbling for purchase. It was cold, and Harry couldn't seem to figure out which way was up and which was down. It took ages for his head to break the surface, and when it did Harry started gasping for breath, just trying desperately to stay afloat. The Dursleys had never bothered to teach him to swim, so he was doing some sort of strange doggy paddle, and water was going up his nose. He started choking and went underwater yet again.
Maybe drowning wouldn't be too bad, Harry reflected as he thrashed around. Peaceful, anyways.
And then something grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him up and away. Harry's head broke the surface of the water and he gasped, taking in as much air as he could. He was dragged onto the grass and started coughing, rolling onto his stomach and trying to catch his breath. Jesus fucking Christ. It took a bit for him to cough up all the water in his lungs, heart beating frantically and hands shaking from adrenaline.
"You really can't swim at all, Potter?" A voice asked dryly from behind him, and Harry remembered who he had been watching before he made a fool out of himself.
He quickly got off of his hands and knees and turned around, trying to salvage some dignity. It was rather hard with his clothes sopping wet and hair dripping into his eyes--his glasses-less eyes, fuck, he'd need to get some new ones--but at least he was trying.
Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, still shirtless, except the smile and blush were gone. He had a hand worked into the fur of the giant dog sitting next to him, which Harry realized with a jolt was sopping wet. Had Draco sent it into the water to save him?
Why?
"I--yeah, I can't swim," he fumbled, running a hand through his wet hair and pushing it back. "Never learned."
Draco snorted and said, "Well, I guess you're pretty goddamn lucky Shadow was here to save you."
Shadow? Who the hell was- oh. "You named that dog Shadow?" Harry asked disbelievingly, looking down at the dog.
"Yeah. Why do you care?" Draco's cheeks had flushed again, turning bright red this time instead of pink. He was still shirtless, and Harry's stomach twisted in a weird way at the sight. Why was he shirtless?
"It's just-- it's white," Harry deadpanned, and when Draco rolled his eyes he dropped the subject. "Well, I guess thanks for saving me. What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? I should be asking you the same question," Draco said defensively, crossing his arms over his pale chest. "McGonagall sent me here because she thought I had issues or whatever, but she said it was a private place, not that the Boy Who Lived would show up to interrupt me."
Harry chose to ignore the last comment and just nodded, looking at Shadow. "So you brought a dog with y-you?" He had to fight his shivering to get out the last couple words, wrapping his arms around himself. The river had been really fucking cold.
"Yeah," Draco shrugged, then looked Harry up and down. "Jesus, you look like a wet rag. Here, wear my shirt. We can go back to my place and I'll make you some soup or some shit." The teenager picked up a black shirt lying on the ground to Harry, who picked it up and looked at Malfoy warily. "C'mon," he said impatiently, and Harry sighed.
He turned around and stripped off his wet shirt, dropping it to the ground and doing his best to shake off the water covering his torso before slipping Draco's on. It was a bit small, but warm, and soft. "I don't know if I should come," he said awkwardly, thinking back to their time at Hogwarts but trying not to be rude.
Draco grit his teeth and looked at the sky as if he were trying to restrain himself. "Here," he finally spat, thrusting his right arm towards Harry, palm up. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, as everything was a bit fuzzy around the edges without his glasses, but when he stepped forward he saw it.
There was a long, red, angry scar stretching down his forearm where the dark mark used to be. Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth and stepped back, looking up at Malfoy his chest had twisted tight again, and there was a painful throbbing accompanying it.
"See? Not a death eater," the boy pointed out. Harry didn't know what to say, and there was an uncomfortable pause.
"So are you coming or not?" Draco asked. Harry grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. Well, what the hell did he have to lose? Nothing. So he nodded and picked up his shirt, following Draco onto a small, winding path. This was going to be an experience.