Author's Note: Half angst, half fluff, shaken not stirred. Hope you enjoy it, please remember to review! It makes me happy and keeps me writing!
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, so blah.
I want to hate you. Really, I do. Sometimes, I think I actually do, but it's gone just as fast and I know it's only wishful thinking on my part. I didn't mean to find you that one lonely night, hunched over a crumpled newspaper announcing the death of Sirius Black, sobbing desperately. I knew then the significance of what I'd discovered; a perfect opportunity to rip you apart from the inside out. However, as I watched, the more important implications of what this breakdown said about you began to hit me. This was the real you. Not the Boy-Who-Lived or the brave Gryffindor or even Harry Potter. Just you, just… Harry.
I've always watched you, we both know that. Once I watched for weaknesses, opportunities to mock your family and friends, any possible way to hurt you. But now, all I see when I look at you is how fake those smiles are, lighting up your face but leaving your eyes frozen and cold. I don't want to be the only one that sees the weariness hanging about you, or how some mornings your scar is so red and swollen it makes my gut clench. I don't want to watch you anymore, but find I can't stop. You don't seem to notice there's an echo to your steps as you wander the halls late at night, or the feel of my eyes on you nearly every moment of every day. You're oblivious to my gaze, my presence, my obsession. At least, that's what I think. Until one night, standing near the edge of the cliff above the lake, you turn from gazing out at the darkening sky and smile at me. Your eyes seem eerily dark, almost black.
"Good bye, Malfoy…"
One, two, three steps back and to my horror it's like time stands still as I watch you begin to fall, your cloak fluttering in the heavy breeze that seems to come from nowhere. You're still smiling, looking almost content, as if you're falling into bed instead of off a cliff. You've barely disappeared from sight before I'm following, registering a dazed look of surprise on your face as I grab you mid-air, clutching you tightly as we plummet towards the rocky water below. You say something to me, but it's lost in the roar of wind and the wild flutter of our cloaks as I tuck your head beneath my chin, curling you into me and gathering as much momentum as I can to turn us, just in time for my back to hit the water with a sick sting and a rush of cold so harsh it steals my breath, making me gasp, forcing the water deep into my lungs. I remember thinking you felt rather pleasant curled in my arms like that.
When I first woke, I couldn't move. It was, in fact, another week before I was able to move. Temporary paralysis, impact damage to my spinal column. I'm told I'll have to be transferred to St. Mungo's for more extensive care to ensure there's no permanent damage, as well as to begin my rehabilitation. But that's just fine with me, turns out that's where you've already been sent. Another week crawls by before I'm able to burst my way into your room. It's so bright I'm almost blinded for a moment, the sun pouring in from the open curtains, bouncing off of every surface in the stark white room. You're sitting in bed looking over at the window, a clean, white bandage wrapped around your forehead, hiding your scar from sight. Again I'm reminded of the moment, now months past, when I first realized you aren't a self-righteous hero looking for glory. You're just scared and lonely, just looking for a moment of peace. You're just you, just… Harry. At the sound of my approaching wheel chair (I don't need it, really… it's just a precaution), you look up, head tilting to the side. The nurse leaves us, your dazed eyes not even wavering from mine when the door clicks shut. You seem content to gaze at me for a long while before you finally speak.
"Who are you?"
I pause, feeling as confused as you look, uncertain.
You nod, looking back towards the window for a moment, then meeting my eyes again.
"And who… who am I?"
A wave of icy sickness drains through me, shock making my voice rushed and strained and slightly urgent.
"You're.. you're Harry Po-"
"You're Harry. Just… Harry."
The tension and confusion visibly melt away and you smile. For the first time, it reaches your eyes, lighting them up with trust and contentment and most of all, happiness. The blinding light makes your hair look smooth and clean and soft, and without your glasses you look even younger. Vulnerable. Beautiful. I glance down to see you've extended your hand to me.
"It's really great to meet you, Draco."
My hand is trembling as I take yours, a cross between a handshake and a casual, intimate grasp. Neither of us make an attempt to pull back. Instead, I feel you shift, twining your fingers with mine. An answering smile tugs at my lips.
"It's really good to meet you too, Harry,"