cruel summer
the cracks in the weathered leather of the passenger seat of the dark green tr6 caught on harry’s trousers as he shifted in the warmth of the dying embers of the sun’s valiant effort at an indian summer, so rare in his corner of the world. trees flew past his peripheral vision, blurred as he focused on the road ahead.
the song changed, crackling from the dusty speakers.
a knot formed where his heart was supposed to be as recognition trickled through his veins.
devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more
harry closed his eyes, dropping his head backwards, face exposed to the heavens, hair caught in the wind.
moments, almost too surreal to remember swirled in his consciousness catching and dropping his attention rapidly enough to make him a bit sick.
and it’s new, the shape of your body it’s blue, the feeling I’ve got
the first time they had kissed, a stony corridor at a ministry event. desperate and frenzied, but so quickly turning heart-throbbingly real and soft in a way that made a sliver of hope glow golden at the base of harry’s throat, the sinking shock not enough to make him loosen his grip on draco’s lapel.
hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine i’m not dying you say that we’ll just screw it up in these trying times we’re not trying
they’d been at the hospital for hermione and agreed not to tell anyone. it would complicate what was already temporary and messy and dark, dark blue. draco told him that something was better than nothing, better than fighting, better than before. harry worried so badly for his friend his shoulders ached miserably, but his throat felt raw for an entirely different reason, draco leaving him standing alone in the hall. he hated that he couldn’t focus on what was most important. he’d kicked the vending machine, not understanding why he was so upset.
devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes and if I bleed, you’ll be the last to know
harry sat on his roof, brushing frustrated tears from his cheeks, embarrassed even though no one was there to see. he felt a hollow desperation that reminded him of asking cho to the yule ball and realizing she’d agreed to go with cedric. which didn’t make sense, it wasn’t as though draco were attending a ball with someone else, but it was then harry decided never to fall for someone any deeper than they had fallen for him, because it was sickeningly awful. he knew though, that it was out of his control and that it was altogether too late. all he could do now was hope, despairingly, that draco never found out that he had made harry cry.
it’s cool, that’s what I tell ‘em no rules in breakable heaven
a thrill shot through harry whenever draco smiled at him like that, brilliant and private. draco slouched perfectly, his arm draped over the back of the sofa with all of his effortless, effulgent elegance and grace, positioned perfectly so that his hand caught in harry’s hair where it met his neck. draco never smiled like that at their other friends, harry swore it. but it didn’t matter, for draco had labeled them as lawless and harry didn’t really know what that meant.
said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you
hermione knew. he was sure of it, but he hadn’t told anyone at draco’s request. harry sat with his head on her shoulder and she used great restraint not to say anything. earlier, she’d told him she loved him as they drank their tea, sitting across from one another as she worried over a nonexistent mess and looked at him sadly and he’d nodded feeling tame and small.
and I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate
draco laughed breathlessly, throwing a look at harry over his shoulder as they ran through the gardens. they were in a public park somewhere in muggle london long after hours. they were being chased by an authority figure of some sort, perhaps security. another adventure. draco loved adventures, to be going somewhere or doing something all the time. it made harry a bit dizzy, but he could hardly resist draco’s rousing speeches and wandering hands. it usually ended in chips with extra vinegar and a walk by the river, draco’s sitting room and stories about his summer in paris with pansy, or, if draco was feeling particularly tender, hot chocolate and blankets under the stars. it was one of those nights. they’d had a rather close call and had apparated away in the nick of time. now, draco whispered the stories of the constellations far, far above them, almost as if he was afraid they would overhear. he caught harry watching him instead of following his gaze up, up, up to a star harry couldn’t even remember the name of and chastised him, calling him harold in the silly, pouty way he sometimes did. and harry almost said it, he did, but draco knew what was coming and harry stopped himself when he saw the tight line draco’s mouth had become.
and I screamed for whatever it’s worth “i love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?
harry, back on his roof, wishing he had never found out what it felt like to be in love.
x
for the @drarrymicrofic prompt better than fighting.
i was on a run the other day and cruel summer came on and i immediately thought of harry and draco and simply couldn’t get it out of my head. in my heart this maybe resolves happy one day.
pt 2
harry opened his eyes as an achingly familiar hand attached itself to his thigh. other hand gripping the wheel in practically sinful nonchalance, draco smiled easily at him.
“almost there, darling.”
harry opened his mouth to respond, but just nodded. almost there indeed.
when they arrived, the stars were twinkling and draco left harry to carry their bags as he entered the lobby to check in. harry paused, leaning against the car to stare at the constellations, a mix of emotions swirling in his stomach.
draco had already collapsed on their bed when harry entered their room, his arms flung dramatically at his sides, taking up far too much space. “i’m dreadfully exhausted, i must say.”
again, harry responded with a nod, unsure of how to voice the sinking sadness weighing him down.
when he got next to no response to his purposefully inflammatory monologue about the incompetency of the classic muggle check in, “i shouldn’t have to encounter a soul at this hour and in such an undignified place, it’s inhumane, i tell you,” he realized he’d have to address the issue.
“harry, do tell me what is wrong. you mustn’t pout like this. you’ll develop wrinkles, you will.”
harry looked up from his crouched position looking through his bag on the floor, his arms leaning heavily on his thighs. and he decided then that although draco had a penchant for dramatics, he didn’t have a monopoly, so harry apparated directly onto the beach.
they’d been to this hotel a handful of times and harry knew draco would easily be able to find him, so when twenty minutes passed with only the company of the waves, harry’s heart felt like it had been pulled out to sea and down, down, down to the depths of the ocean.
but then, draco was there. at his side. and just like all the times before, harry’s anger faded when he saw that perfect white blond hair and the soft, probing look in draco’s eyes that was rare but dripping with meaning that harry couldn’t quite put his finger on.
before he could ask, harry replied. “it’s the last weekend of summer ‘sall.”
draco nodded thoughtfully for a second, then mirrored harry’s position, chin resting on folded up knees, watching the water flirt with the sand.
“and we said it’d end there.”
harry made a noise in the back of his throat, but was unwilling to comment just yet.
“it would be too complicated, we both agreed, harry.”
“no, actually draco, you said it would be too complicated. you said it was just for the summer. you said i couldn’t talk about it with my sodding best friends. and then you didn’t even give me a chance to say anything back.”
draco seemed to take a moment to collect himself. “i was just trying to be logical, you know. you’ve got to admit, we don’t make sense. i’m a death eater. marked for life. i’ve done awful things to you. i’ve goaded you for years about your dead family and your stupid scar and your halfwit brain, you loaf.” his voice softened there at the end, endearing in his rejection as only draco could.
“why are you so preoccupied with the past?”
“why are you so insistent on deciding the future before it even happens?”
“it’s not idiotic, draco. planning for the future isn’t the same as pretending that everyone around you refuses to love you because of your mistakes. planning to be with the person you’re in love with because they’re important enough to you that you actually want to center your entire miserable fucking existence around their happiness isn’t as crazy or rare or whatever the fuck else you think. normal people make decisions with the goddamn love of their life”
the words spilled out of him much too quickly and unedited and he felt his entire stomach sink to the bottom of the ocean. draco looked at him frozen and stunned and harry knew things would never ever be the same. fuck. fuck.
