Chapter 9

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Chapter Warnings: Fluffishness and mild slash


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The Veela Enigma

Chapter 9: Comfort

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"What have you done to me?"

Draco's words, though whispered, seemed to echo deafeningly through the room, and Harry watched in horror as Draco fell to his knees and began to cry.  At the sight of those tears streaming down Draco's face, guilt and shame and self-loathing tore through Harry painfully.

Without stopping to think he ran forward and dropped to his knees in front of Draco, reaching out for him.  "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it.  I'm so sorry, please don't cry, please…"

Harry tried to pull Draco into his arms, but Draco tore away. 

"For God's sake, Potter, you've done enough. Just leave me alone," he tried to snarl menacingly, but his voice trembled and broke and only made Harry more determined to fix what he'd done.

"No.  I'm not going anywhere," Harry said firmly, and he reached out and wrapped his arms around Draco's shaking torso. 

Draco went rigid and tried to push him away, but Harry refused to let him. Holding the blonde tightly, Harry began whispering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't hate you Draco, I don't hate you," over and over.

Finally, Draco gave in and collapsed into Harry's embrace, burying his head in Harry's shoulder to hide his tears.  Harry wrapped his arms even tighter around him and tried to comfort him, reassuring him every way he could think of that he hadn't meant what he said.

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Hermione watched as Draco cried in Harry's arms, and decided it was probably time to leave them alone.  She slowly and quietly walked over to the door of the Room of Requirement.  She paused before leaving, and looked back at the two figures in the center of the room, on their knees and holding onto each other tightly.  Draco's face was hidden in the space between Harry's neck and shoulder, and Harry had leaned his own head against Draco's.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the startling contrast between their hair. Harry's jet black locks resting against Draco's head made Draco's pale, white-gold hair seem even lighter and finer than usual.  Hermione stared for a moment.  It was so pale, like moonlight.  A very unnatural, almost inhuman color.  She hadn't seen hair like that in ages.  In fact, she hadn't seen hair like that since…

Oh God.

Since Fourth Year.

The Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Fleur Delacour.

And faster than a bolt of lightning Hermione had left the Room of Requirement and was on her way to the library.

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Harry could feel his shirt wet with Draco's tears, and he cursed himself and his stinging words for the hundredth time.  No matter how awful he might have felt upon learning that Draco was probably under a spell, he still didn't have the right to speak so cruelly to someone who loved him.

Draco seemed to be calming slightly under Harry's quiet words and caressing, so Harry kept it up. He slowly ran his hands up and down Draco's back, trying to soothe away the last of his sobs.  Draco still kept his head buried in Harry's shoulder, and neither said anything beyond Harry's soft murmurings for a long time.

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