Like Hell
This one is my first writing of 2018, and I know it might turn out to be so bad since I haven’t written anything for months. But this one comes from @staganddragon ‘s song “Like Hell” I know it might not do any justice to the song because ffs that song is just out of this world, hope she finds this readable because I adore everything about her.
The Eight Year is supposed to be different, isn’t it? It is different, probably, in some ways. Not in the way that Draco wants though, not at all in the way that matters. In the end it feels all the same as the last two years. His heavy sigh echoes inside the dark empty room. The coldness that creeps in between the cracks of the hard stone wall still covers the room in a suffocating ways. The night still feels as lonely. The silence feels heavier than ever. No one comes back for their NEWT, not when McGonagall said they could learn everything at home and just come to Hogwarts for the test, especially not when they’re the front line of Slytherin House. Pansy and Daphne comes back. Blaise also comes back. No one will see him in the same room as Draco to sleep though, not ever since Vincent. So Draco sleeps alone every night, wrapped in what he hopes to be a comforting blanket that provides warmth, and yet turns to be a suffocating sweat drenched duvet every dawn. He sighs once again before closing his eyes uneasily. It’s only two months after the semester starts anyway, right? There will be many times to make differences happened later on.
The Great Hall feels emptier than ever when Draco slides quietly into his seat in the end of the Slytherin table. He is the closest to the door, a simple precaution that he hates to make. School is supposed to be a safe place for students, right? He sighs softly when his former friends slide into their seats in the middle of the long table without even a glance to him. It’s okay. He’s okay. He knows it was just another precaution, maybe except for Blaise, even though he knows too well that he deserved that. The vile ink in his left arm says how much he deserves the cold treatment. He prefers silence when that means his friends are safe from death glares and occasional cutting hexes.
The sudden shadows that covered his half buttered toast makes him squirms a little in his seat. Draco doesn’t need to see who has decided to sit across him. Harry Potter has been sitting there ever since the first morning of the term. At first, he was confused, but he never chooses to ask. Potter parts with his trio at the big door and always sits right across Draco. This is probably the only thing that changes in his school life: a routine silent breakfast with the Chosen One. Draco wants to ask so many things to the boy, things that might go out of control if he starts voicing them.
What are you doing here?
How are you?
How are you handling things?
Do you want jellybeans with your peanut sandwich?
Why do you do this?
Are you alright?
I’m sorry.
“Morning, Potter.” Draco finally blurts out of nowhere because for fuck’s sake it has been two months of them sitting in silent every breakfast together. Apparently it shocks Potter more than it should as the butter covered knife in his right hand falls noisily on his plate. Draco can feel blood pooling on his cheeks and drops his eyes back to his toast, nibbling it nervously. He should not have said anything, shouldn’t he? He goes through another two minutes of painfully awkward silence before arranging his expression, brazing himself to look at the boy in front of him. “What?” he asks, a little defensively. The green eyes blink slowly while gauging Draco’s expression.
“Nothing.” Potter finally says slowly, cautiously. Draco finally goes back to his toast after a full minute of simply staring at the strange boy. “It just has been two months too late, hasn’t it?” he hears Potter mutters with a smile in his voice. Draco doesn’t understand how you put smiles into your voice, but he once again finds himself staring at Potter’s face –judging, of course, whether or not he’s laughing at Draco. It is probably ten seconds too long to judge someone, but he finally shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly.
“Better late than never.” He says softly, and once again is rewarded with a small smile and twinkling, tired eyes. But it’s genuine, Draco understands because this one is different. It’s different with the wide grin he offers Weasley everyday at dinner. It’s different with the small smile he always gives his friends every time he stands up first and exits the Great Hall at night. It’s different with the reassuring smile he gives Granger every time he says he’s okay. This one is finally genuine because the tired haze in his eyes clear for a second and the twinkles Draco hasn’t seen in a long time is presenting itself. And that’s why Draco greedily takes another twenty seconds of silent staring to store the expression into his memories.
“Better late than never.” Harry repeats the sentence softly before finally shoves his toast into his mouth to hide his growing smile.
It has been another two months until Draco finally can’t take being in his bed alone, so he goes down stair to the warmer common room with a blanket draped around his figure. The fire is emitting comforting warmth throughout the room, and he claims the spot right in front of the fireplace as a place to lie down. He is done with all the cold dark room and nightmares, curling up into a ball in front of the warm fire, wrapped in his thick duvet, and getting so comfortable and sleepy. It has been months since he has a good night sleep, so this one feels luxurious even though he’s on the floor. Well, that is until he senses someone taking a sit behind him. Draco doesn’t move, doesn’t even turn around to welcome the new figure. He’s tired, he’s warm, and he wants to sleep.
“Can’t sleep, either?” The new voice says. The sharp intake of breathe definitely doesn’t come from him. “I have never seen you down here.” Harry says softly.
“Had enough with the nightmares and the cold room.” Draco snuggles back into his warm duvet. “Apparently I’m an idiot for not going down here faster.” Potter doesn’t say anything else for quite some times. The silence gets heavier as seconds goes by and after ten seconds Draco’s chance to sleep is just basically gone. He is too attuned to this boy, has been for so long, and he hasn’t seen the end of this turbulent feelings. He fancies Harry Potter. That’s a fact he can’t evade forever. Sure, he hates him on many occasions, but that time has flown by, hasn’t it? Now what left are just small morning greetings, pleasant small chats about homework, and private smiles across The Great Hall, swapped cup of coffees and teas, and extra portion of sweet pumpkin pies. And how could Draco ever eradicate his ever growing feelings when he is too busy drowning in mesmerizing green eyes every breakfast time?
“Can I tell you things?” Draco finally blurts out, can’t take the heavy silent anymore. It’s two seconds too late when finally a small okay echoes around the room. Draco finally turns his body around to face Potter and looks at him in the eyes. The green eyes looks more orange as the light of the fire mirrors on them. The black nestle he called hair is messier than ever. “I’m sorry.” Draco shifts his eyes towards his fingers in the rug, swallowing a nerve and sitting up, before looking back at the person in front of him. “It might have been a lifetime too late, but I’m sorry. For the little things and the big ones. For every jabs and stinging hex. For every hurting words and physical pain I’ve caused you. I am sorry. For a simple Unforgivable and the grandeur tattoo. I know it might be a long shot to ask for a simple forgiveness, not that I deserve one, but I need you to know that I am sorry.”
Harry is at loss for words. He tries to answer, but nothing comes out from his mouth, so he shuts it again and frowns, trying to come up with something, anything. And yet, Draco smiles sadly for a few seconds before nodding and continuing.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. Can I tell you another thing?” Harry simply nods at his request. This time Draco smiles genuinely. It’s small, private, just like what they are used to sharing at the breakfast table every morning. “I think Harry is just as great as Harry Potter.” Draco pauses as he remembers the small kid he met at Diagon Alley eight year ago, and then he nods as if what he just says is the basic fact of the world that everyone should know. “Yeah, definitely.” He grins. Draco actually grins so wide because right at that second he sees the lost and confused kid with the big beautiful green eyes once again staring at him. He smiles so large to cover the tears prickling on the corner of his eyes, until in the end they just fall anyway. He sniffs once before wiping the tears away, followed by a wet, embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry for making that Harry’s life a living hell. I just wanted to be friends with him, but he refused and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how else to catch his eyes.”
“Draco…” Harry’s voice sounds lost and confused in the warm room, slightly covered by another sharp intake of breath from the blond boy, as this is the first time that word is uttered from Harry’s lips.
“No, there are other things I want you to know.” Draco shakes his head to clear his slightly wet vision. “I need you to know that you had killed one person. That is the only guilt that you need to support on your shoulder. I say this because I know you have a damn hero complex, and you’ll feel guilty even though you only murdered a mad man who actually needed to be eradicated. The rest of them are not your fault. Don’t take away their sacrifice by acknowledging it as your fault.” Draco stops his words because Potter is staring at him in a weird way. Draco knows this might sound harsh, but he need to say this. He thinks Potter needs to hear this. “Harry, you killed Voldemort. Embrace that part of you. You’ll only live in this limbo of lies and suffer if you don’t.”
The silent that follows is deafening, but Draco can’t feel any regret. Draco needs to say this. Harry needs to hear this. The only sound comes from the fire licking away the woods in the hearth and the ticking of clock on the farthest wall until Harry suddenly stutters a question.
“W-why? Why are you saying… all of this?” Harry says confusedly. His green eyes are burning a hole in the rug as he hasn’t stopped staring at it for quite some times.
Your green eyes don’t match the haze of your burden and white lies. You’re too beautiful to be plunged into this misery and sugarcoated suffering. I love you. But I’m not enough, not yet. Draco smiles sadly as these thoughts slip into his mind, and yet that is the only truth he knows. Draco wrapped his body tighter with his duvet, as if it’s the only thing that can protect him from whatever after effect his actions will induce.
“Loving you is a living hell, but I want to do it well and I don’t know how. Maybe this is the other way to catch your eyes.” Draco says very softly, he can hear the distant sound of Hogwarts’ clock, chiming twelve times as the end of the day is nearing. He leans closer to Harry, stopping right before he can’t. “Abandon what you know, Harry. Do what you want. Be who you want.” He whispers as the green eyes only gets wider under the soft gaze of the grey orbs. Draco finally closes his eyes and leans so close until his lips plant a small feather light kiss on Harry’s cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Harry Potter.” Before Harry can acts or even move Draco has already gone up the stair to his room, leaving Harry blushing so hard he’ll be redder than the fire at the start of Christmas. Maybe this year is different. Maybe this is the start of a change of heart. Maybe this is just something unimportant entirely later in his life, but he can feel right then and there, somehow in this very fast hour of his night, it doesn’t feel like hell.
