Summary: D/H. A letter, a miracle, and a dying love. After Hogwarts. Sequel to Hello Harry.
Warning: Slash, language, and insomniac author (me).
Disclaimer: Do you seriously think that if I had written anything that got me as much money as J.K. Rowling that I'd still be writing at all? Yeah, didn't think so. (lol)
It was Sunday again.
Draco carefully buttoned his crisp white shirt, careful not to do anything that could possibly wrinkle it. As soon as the soft fabric was tucked neatly into his severely pleated trousers, he reached with shaky hands to the comb on his dresser.
He didn't know how bad his hands were shaking up he tried to set the comb back down on the dresser and it clattered onto the floor instead. He took a deep calming breath. Being late was not a big deal to a man that was practically comatose. The Ministry had held him later than he had expected with its meetings on regular Muggle regulations and other general subjects that any intern would know, let alone the Head of Muggle Relations, the title Draco held proudly.
He bent to retrieve the comb and scolded himself for putting such importance on something Harry didn't realize was happening in the first place. This was just him going to see Harry. A regular occurrence that shouldn't pain him if he were to miss it. He lifted his hands eye level and smiled in satisfaction when his hands proved not to be a violently shaking wreck as they were a moment ago, but were now gently trembling. Then he laughed that the trembles were a relief to him.
It meant that he could still feel all the right feelings and not just the powerful ones.
He smiled softly and reached for his robe, but paused when he heard a slight tapping noise. It sounded familiar so he turned to the window the owls delivering his mail usually frequented and sure enough there was a large, albeit scruffy looking, barn owl standing on the sill. Draco opened the window and stepped back to let the large bird in. The fowl stuck out a leg with a scroll wrapped around it and waited patiently as Draco took the letter, then---once Draco held it in his hands---the bird spun around quickly and darted out the window, leaving one feather behind as a sign that it really was there.
Draco unrolled the scroll, annoyed that this letter---probably from the Ministry---was stopping him from seeing Harry. He began to read and thin gold-silver eyebrows lifted in shock.
As you must know, Harry has been admitted into St. Mungo's for his condition. However, he has awoken. We have no idea if this new state will last or not, but we are hopeful. You may be wondering why I am informing you of something you would otherwise have no concern with. Harry has asked for you. He says that you are late.
Sincerely, Hermoine Weasley
Hermoine looked up from one of her best friends in the world towards the door when she heard a soft knock. She looked towards her red-headed husband pointedly and he rose from his chair to open the door. She was shocked to see how different Draco looked.
He was thinner, his robes hanging loosely on his frame. His hair had the same familiar ghostly shine to it, but it seemed even paler, as if strands of genuine silver had been added to the platinum blond at his young age. His eyes seemed even more intense than last she'd seen him, which was surprising because the last time she had seen him, he was holding his dead mother in his arms. She felt her chest tighten when she saw him swallow nervously and lines formed around his mouth on skin she had remembered to be smoother than her own.
Draco nodded to the Weasleys; the patriarchs, their brood, and the in-laws. He made his way towards Hermoine, avoiding eyes and bodies that seemed to take up all the space in the rather large room. When he finally reached the bushy-haired witch, he felt the heavy weight of ten pairs of eyes on his back.
"Hello Grang---uh, Mrs. Weasley," he corrected quickly.
She gave him a weak smile. "Hello Mr. Malfoy."
"Uh . . . About Ha---Potter?"
"Oh, yes," the witch said, turning back to her friend that was sitting in his chair facing the sea as usual. "He still seems to be here with us, but he's barely speaking. A little over an hour ago he mentioned in the loudest voice we've heard him speak in that you were late. Do you know what that's about, Mr. Malfoy?"
A little over an hour ago, it was five o'clock, Draco thought. "I don't know. Shall I try speaking to him?"
She nodded her head and stood, relinquishing her seat to tall blonde and standing besides Bill and his French wife.
Draco sat beside Harry, facing him, while the man looked at nothing in particular in front of him. The Chosen One's hair was even more unruly than usual as if he had been running his hand through it all day. There were other little signs that Harry was there with them; his fingers were twitching slightly and he was blinking more than usual, but Draco had to look into his eyes to be sure.
The dark-haired man silently turned his head to face the other man and for a moment Draco felt an icy fissure of doubt. Harry was gone. His eyes were blank and dull. Empty.
But suddenly, a broad smile broke out onto his love's face.
"Draco." The voice was rough after months of not using it, but it was Harry's voice. It was really Harry. Draco could feel his eyes watering up as he watched dull green eyes sparkle and shine into electric emeralds. "Draco."
Harry's arms were suddenly reaching out to him, wrapping around him, pulling him in. He closed his eyes in pleasure and hugged back. When he heard the sharp gasp of the Weasley daughter, he pulled back. In that one beautiful moment, he had forgotten the world around them.
"Draco," Harry said again as if testing the name in his mouth and liking the taste.
"I know, forgive me."
Harry smiled again. "Of course. Do you know where my glasses are?"
"Uh . . ." Draco turned and looked at the Weasleys who happened to be staring at the pair, collectively dumbstruck. "Glasses."
Ginny Weasley frowned and handed the thin frames she had been twirling in her hands to the man she suddenly felt threatened by. He took them with a nod of his head and handed them over to Harry, who didn't even spare her a glance.
Harry placed the glasses on and looked Draco directly in the eye. "Mmm, perfect."
Draco shuddered with pleasure as Harry said that. He felt eyes on the back of his neck and he reddened.
"Draco, come here," Harry invited, a flirty look in his eye.
Draco looked nervously around the room at the curious and shocked faces. "I don't think---"
"What's wrong?" Harry suddenly snapped, standing and kicking back is chair so that it rattled on the tile of the floor. "You don't want to? Am I too late? You don't want me! You don't love me! You don't! You don't need me! Why? Why! Why!"
"Harry, stop!" Ron suddenly shouted out, running up and reaching out to his friend as the youg hero's powers caused the room to rattle.
"Don't touch me!" Harry hissed, cupping his hands to his head, one hand covering his scar. "Don't touch me! Draco! God, I . . . God . . . Draco . . ."
Draco watched in horror as Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back with such force that his glasses fell off and shattered. The pale-haired man managed to catch Harry before his convulsing form hit the floor.
Silver eyes looked into emerald.
"Draco," Harry sobbed out, clutching tightly to the blonde's arms. "Draco . . . you don't---"
"I do!" he shouted quickly and clearly so Harry could understand and process the words. He pulled the man against him and murmured into his ear, over and over. "I do. I do, Harry. I do."
The Weasleys watched in stunned silence as they watched Harry being consoled so intimately and caringly by his school rival. They watched as the blonde man kissed Harry's sweaty temple. And they watched as Draco reassured their hero with words of love until he calmed. Hermoine watched with tears in her eyes, Ginny watched with bile in her throat, and Ron watched with rage clouding his features, but the pair just blocked out everyone else, they were so in tuned to one another.
"Draco, I love you," Harry sighed softly, inciting an angry hiss of breath from Ginny that was ignored by all the others.
Draco nodded and helped Harry to the bed that was against the wall nearest to them. "I love you, too, baby. Come on, lie down . . . You need the rest."
"I need you," Harry told him, his eyes wide and pleading. "I love you . . . I need you . . . I . . . I-I . . . What are you doing, Malfoy?!"
Draco started at Harry's sudden change in attitude, the brunette pulling out of his arms and pushing him away. "Get the fuck away from me!"
Draco watched with tears flowing down his face as Harry began to scream out his hatred towards the man who was his lover. He watched with a clenching heart as Harry curled himself into a ball and screamed out in pain, in fear, in hatred; ugly screams that scared him deeply. He watched as the Weasley twins pushed him aside and restrained the Chosen One against his bed, pinning his shoulders roughly to the mattress.
"Fuck you, Malfoy! Fuck you!" his love shouted, his piercing emerald eyes glowing like those of an angry serpent as he glared straight through Draco. Draco stood motionless, powerless as the Weasley's around him sprung into action.
Hermoine placed a gentle hand on the pale, shaking man's shoulder and suggested softly that he leave the room for a moment. He nodded and turned away as Harry began to chant a mantra of I hate you, I hate you. He closed the door behind him with a sharp click and leaned against the wall beside it, letting his tears flow out in all their intensity.
That was how the Weasleys found him, on his knees, curled against the wall, sobbing his eyes out. He looked up at them, squinting through his tears to register the yellow-orange halo that adorned a majority of their heads, before gulping in his tears and standing straight. The door to Harry's room was still open, but with so many Weasleys crowding the passage, Draco couldn't into it.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione's quiet voice answered as the family made a united front against him.
"Move!" he ordered, using his magic and physical strength to push through them, ignoring the "Draco, no!" behind him. He rushed into the room and stopped short when he saw Harry on the bed.
Harry was a motionless mass on the small clinical bed. His body was rigid and his eyes were bloodshot and wide open, wetness falling from the corners and dampening the sheets beneath his head. His blank green stare was on the ceiling, the expression on his face was not one of contentment. He looked to be in as much emotional turmoil as Draco himself was going through and it looked to be permanent. He jaw was clenched tightly as if holding back a scream.
Draco's eyes, already sore from earlier tears, began to overflow as he looked at the state of his lover.
"Oh God, Harry."
"Draco?" His head snapped from the man before him to the direction of the door. He looked at the family, united and comforting to one another, defensive and angry to him. He set his jaw and turned away from Harry.
Hermione's spine stiffened at the cold tone of Draco's voice. This was the Slytherin they once knew. "I just wanted to know if you were . . ."
"Don't tell me that you're seriously concerned for me, Weasley," he scoffed, satisfied when he saw anger flash across her patient, understanding expression. She didn't understand shit and it was about time she acknowledged that. He turned back to his lover, muttered a goodbye and strode through the Weasleys to leave the room that was suddenly too hot and too small for him.
And no one heard the words that came from Harry's mouth; they were all too entranced by the blonde's dramatic exit.
Author's Note: Oh, wow. I think I need some sleep. Let me quit writing before I thoroughly depress myself. And just so you know, there will be another sequel, so don't send me any angry reviews about the ending of this one. Thanks!
And, oh yeah, thank you, jinjin9208. I think I wrote this because you asked me.