Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just knock them over and play with them, and dress them up in funny clothing and make them talk in high-pitched accents. They belong to J.K. Rowling and her gang of heartless publishers.
Warnings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. That line between their names is a slash. It means they are together. They might hug, they might kiss, they might have hot, wild screaming monkey sex (Just not on FFN!). If this thought nauseates or sickens you…go away. If you chose not to heed my warning and send me nasty letters, all the more fool you are.
Story Notes: This is a 'songless songfic', that is to say, there is a song that it is based on, but you will not see the song lyrics in italics here or anything. If you look really, really hard, you might find some of the lyrics mixed into the story. The song to this fic is "Don't" by Jewel.
Draco tried not to freeze as Harry's shoulder bumped his in the hallway, all the breath squashing out of him as if the other boy had slammed him into a wall. In the clutter and clamor of Hogwarts students moving from fourth class to fifth Draco shouldn't have been able to hear Harry breathe, a soft in-out. But he did. Everything came back to him, the whole night spent with Harry's breath in his ear, soft, so soft.
Then the moment was over, and Harry was gone, up a staircase, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the corridor, trying to get his lungs working again. The night was on endless replay behind his eyelids, and Draco fought the urge not to blink. He remembered Harry's voice in his ear, sweet, every word so sweet.
Harry sang in the shower. Draco had discovered it, he shouldn't have been there, in the Gryffindor changing rooms. He'd meant vandalism, but had been caught up in the voice, lilting and perfect. Harry had lain close that night, wrapped around him as if he never wanted to let Draco go.
For a moment, Draco had almost believed it all, the words and the stupid love song that Harry had sung. For a moment, Draco had almost, almost fallen.
Draco shook his head, realizing that he'd just spent several seconds stalled in a hallway, tried to forget everything, and hurried forward. He might be late to class, and that wouldn't do.
The chairs were hard, uncomfortable, and the teacher was boring. Draco scratched an absent minded note on his page, leaning his chin on his hand. Harry's smiles came back to him, and Draco almost fell out of his chair realizing he had memorized them all, categorized the extent of happy sweetness in each and every one of them. It was all sugar coated memories, and Draco's eyes were wide, staring uncomprehendingly at the black squiggles of writing on his page. He sought for something, anything to stop the endless flow of images in his brain. Smile after smile stopped his heart, turning his pulse into a stammering, stuttering mess.
"Draco?" Crabbe hissed at him, nudging him with one beefy elbow. Draco nodded, finding stability, turning his attention back to the teacher and trying to forget what Harry's smiles tasted like, trying to forget the passion in them when they were alone.
Goyle, on Draco's other side, caught his compatriot's eye and for a moment Draco could read their questions, sparking between them like a telegram.
"M' fine," he grumbled at them, and both boys sat back, unconvinced.
The rest of the class went without a hitch.
Draco saw Harry in the halls again, and would have fell if Goyle hadn't grabbed him and steadied him. His pseudo-bodyguards were beginning to wonder at his behavior. Draco brushed off their questions.
The night had been full of peace, Draco remembered. Hot and gentle, as if they had been made for each other, not made to be enemies. All past hateful words had fallen to kisses, all past pains had fallen to pleasure. Draco stood in the courtyard, staring up at the sky, and wishing his mind would stop turning it green—the color of Harry's eyes.
Blue skies, a perfect day. Draco wished for clouds, wished it weren't time for lunch and if he didn't go then Crabbe and Goyle would pin him down and demand answers. Harry's words came back to him, sweet words that had taken all of Draco's inhibitions and burned them.
He'd almost fallen, it had been so close. Draco shivered, hurried forward, wishing for the freedom of flying, of the skies. Being with Harry had been like flying, like freedom. Hissing under his breath, Draco tried to forget it all, knowing that he'd be sure to remember again when he saw Harry at lunch.
Footsteps faltered, tapered off, and the Great Hall doors stood before him. Too many times, Draco thought. Too many smiles aimed at someone else, memorized by eyes that had never seen, pushed into a box at the bottom of Draco's heart, labeled 'Not For You'. For everyone else. Draco had only just realized he cared at all. He was at an abyss, the edge of a cliff, staring down at his future.
The doors swung open and Draco stepped back, too late, as people tumbled out. He stepped back to let them flood through, watching the ground. When he finally looked up he was there, they were there, lined up like a firing squad in front of him. The redhead looked sad, the girl looked strangely curious. Harry looked…delicious.
"See you around," Harry said, moving toward Draco. The others left, and Draco wondered how long he'd been standing there, staring. Harry's fingers coiled around his own, and they were warm, comfortingly warm, like a blanket around Draco's heart. Harry was holding his hand. Harry was holding his hand. Harry was holding his hand…
He looked up. There was no way to hide from the emotion in Harry's eyes, the blazing green honesty, the perfect alignment of expression that spoke a thousand words without a sound. "What?" Harry said, the edges of those perfect eyes crinkling. "You didn't think it was a one night stand, did you?"
Then Harry smiled, for him. For Draco. And Draco fell.