Lost & Found
It's cold. The white, frozen snow falls onto paler, colder skin. Fingers are clenched tightly, elbows resting on the rough stone of the railing. Blonde hair, muted, falls into the haunted silver grey eyes of the slytherin. His breath turns to fog in the air as he watches the dark night sky, the stars hidden by snow. The boy looks like the epitome of winter, his face contorted with a cruel biting anger.
He likes feeling of his sharp teeth piercing into the soft flesh inside his lips. The slytherin likes thinking that he is the only one who has the power to hurt himself, he likes to think no one has that sort of hold on him. That advantage. His ancestors would be proud. But of course it is all a lie. We all fall one time or another, willingly hurling into the darkness head first or being forcefully yanked down- we all fall in the end. There's really no escaping it.
Yet he feels the painful pulse of his hurt pride beneath his skin, below the pure anger and rage. How could that git just use him like that, damn it. He fucking knew he like him. Yet he still- he still- went with another fucking girl, laughing and twirling, his stupid mouth wide in a smile that made him look like a loon. His green eyes obscured sometimes by those equally ridiculous glasses that made his head look ginormous. That dwarf looked like a fucking penguin in his black and white robes. Who the hell did he think he was? Waddling around like he owned the fucking place. Having the audacity to fucking smile at him, like a quirk of the lips could fix every damn thing. Well, it couldn't. It can't. It never will. His heart throbs painfully in his chest, every beat proving to himself just how truly fake his words are. Just how much of a liar he is. He's the worst kind, those that lie to themselves above all else.
He would never be able to trust himself with any truth.
"You're beautiful, you know."
The voice comes from behind him, causing the slytherin to jump and turn around, his hands faltering over where his wand is tucked into his pocket.
Malfoy flinches, glaring at the gryffindor. Draco hates that his first gut reaction is to run up and snuggle into the prat's arms. He hates that he finds himself wanting to forgive Harry for everything he's ever done, for all that he's made him feel. But of course, he can't. It would hurt too much.
But of course this does too.
Draco tries not to think about it too much.
"What do you want, Potter? You horny again? Need your cock sucked? Why don't you get your pretty little date to help you get off, I'm sure you'll need the assistance, but I won't help. You can only come with my name on your lips, can't you? Only wank to the thoughts of me helping, my fingers digging deep into your-"
Harry Potter, the fucking chosen one, walks over, his eyebrows crimpled in confusion, pain and goddamnit, the hurt. Harry Potter fluches as he steps closer, the red trailing it's fingertips across his cheeks and down his neck. "You know it's not about the sex, Draco. It's never been about that. I… I lo-"
Draco frantically presses a palm onto Harry's mouth, his teeth clench as his breath hisses through his lips. "Don't you dare say such a thing, Potter. Not when you don't mean it." Harry pulls away angrily, his green eyes flashing with a burning anger- opposites. It's counterpart returning when the chill called, the flame igniting and ready to engulf the entire world as if it were blanketed with gas.
"Don't tell me what I can or can't fucking feel, Draco. Not when you don't know how you feel yourself."
Winter snarls, his fists clenched at his side. "Then you simply lie to yourself. No one can love me, not like that." Malfoy knows he's cold, bitter and biting. The truth is, he kind of likes it, his pride in himself pulsing with his heart as they beat in time.
"I love you, you complete git.You're so damn cold all the fucking time, your mask is always so frigid, sometimes I'm worried I'll come away with frostbite. But under that façade, dear god, Draco, underneath all of your winter-" Draco's grey eyes widen, his mask slipping for a second before he remembers to yank his walls of ice up again. Harry's fingers dig into his shoulders, his other hand cupping the back of his head as the gryffindor shoves him into the nearest wall roughly.
Dark green eyes burn into him, as the dark haired boy continues to speak. "Those walls of ice and snow, that's not you." The slytherin snarls, his mouth twisted- cold and cruel. "Then you don't know me, Potter." His words sharpened and thirsty for blood. But the gryffindor doesn't flinch, he knows his heart. He simply smiles at Draco, his smile patient and indulgent. Draco feels anger spit in his veins. "You know that's not true. You're so damn warm inside, Draco. You're hiding, right in the pit of your soul, that's where you are. Beneath all that ice and snow, you've got this slow burn of summer." As Harry speaks, his warm lips inches from his ear, hot breath tickling his neck. The slytherin feels the heat of Harry's gaze, warm and heated, so full of- "Sometimes I'm scared I won't be able to find you anymore, love." A slow flush begins to bloom across Draco's pale cheeks, his arms wrapping around his lover's waist.
Harry smiles, trailing a soft fingertip across his love's pink cheeks before tracing the soft skin of lips. "Ah, there you are." Lips quirk up into small, wary smile- small, but oh so warm. Harry leans close, his whisper ghosting Draco's lips before he presses their mouths together. It's chaste but it burns them anyway. In the cold winter night, they could swear they were in the very throes of summer.