The Middle (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Three

   That had been three days ago.

He had not written to Draco, as certain as he was of his abhorrence in Harry's actions. Instead he had shut himself away in misery, contemplating these perverted stirrings that had been simmering for so long in the depths of Harry's mind, lurking in the corners where he had been oblivious to their meaning until they had escaped and the situation had become so utterly hopeless.

He had had no appetite, and despite his man Kreacher's best efforts he had refused breakfast yet again, wanting only to be alone with his thoughts as he stared out the window. He could beat this, he could fight this. All he had done was confuse himself: he needed to attend more balls, meet more eligible young ladies. Then these feelings would soon fade, he was sure.

It didn't mean he could ever salvage what he had had with Draco, but perhaps, perhaps that was for the best. Oh how turbulent his mind was with woe! He struggled to find any sort of solace. He thought maybe he would simply sit in the library for the remainder of the day – for with a book open in his lap, he could at least attempt to convince himself he was otherwise engaged.

That, however, had been when the movement at the gates to the house had caught his eye.

His breath hitched and his blood ran cold. There was no mistaking the rider, even from this distance. Not with a head of hair that fair.

Draco had taken matters into his own hand, and interpreted Harry's flight and silence as something that needed to be addressed. He turned on the spot, consumed with distress. Why could he not leave matters be! There was no good that could come of discussing what had happened, they needed to bury the event for from sight and mind!

Thoughts of the Draco of their youth filled Harry's mind, and he was quickly consumed with dread considering that maybe it was with malice that Draco had sought him out. To torment him for his sickening conduct, for the feelings that must surely have been plain on his face.

He had wanted to hold Draco, to touch him more, to feel his person pressed close against him and he was horrified. Surely that was enough? Surely Draco knew the abhorrence he now carried with him, he could not want to put Harry through any further anguish?

The sound of the door opening tore him from his reverie, and before he could formulate a clear sentence, Kreacher was striding into the room. "Mr Malfoy to see you Mr Potter."

Harry swallowed and gave a nod, but Draco was already hurrying past the threshold as Kreacher retreated, closing the door and leaving them alone again.

"Malfoy," Harry said with a nod, feeling weak at the knees. "I – I apologise for my abrupt departure the other day, I was not feeling well."

Draco sighed, and relieved himself of his hat, his gloves and his cane, resting them on the table and coming to stand near Harry behind the fire. "Harry," he said, voice ladened with concern. "I should have come sooner, I thought you would write."

He swallowed and attempted to affect nonchalance. "A headache," he said dismissively. "Nothing to fret over."

Draco's face was drawn with pity though, and he stepped closer. Harry fought the urge to step back. "I do not believe," he said, selecting his words with caution. "It was a turn of unwellness that made you flee."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but as it always had been, Draco was the one in command of the situation.

"I believe," he insisted. "I drove you away with fear."

Harry, for his part, took a shaky breath and frowned. "Fear?" he queried. What had he to fear from Draco, it was him that should be afraid of what Harry's recklessness could have done to him?

"Yes," said Draco, his smile tight and rueful. "I fear that I let my true feelings get the better of me, and whilst I believed in my arrogance they were reciprocated, I should have been more cautious in my approach, rather than rushing in only to startle you from something so unusual, that you were not prepared."

Harry regarded his beloved friend in curiosity. This was not how he had imagined this conversation progressing at all. "Draco," he whispered, his throat tight but his will determined. "I am...ashamed. My actions were wholly inappropriate and I wished to cause no slight on your good character. I plead for your forgiveness, and understand with no animosity if you wish to sever all ties with me."

Draco blinked and studied Harry in a manner that made him most uncomfortable. "Harry," he said in mild exasperation. "Why would I want to cut you from my life, you who are the most dear in the whole world to me?"

Harry tried valiantly to quash his horror, but his emotions were getting the better of him. "Because I am abominable," he rasped, unable to meet Draco's gaze. "If you knew the...sickening thoughts that had run through my mind, when I, when we..."

"When you took the courage to hold me to you?" Draco supplied, which was such an astonishing interpretation Harry forget his misery and snapped his eyes back up to meet Draco's.

"Courage?"

"Yes!" Draco cried with a laugh, and smiled in that way that had always lit Harry up inside, but now it took on a more sinister application and Harry shied away from the notion. "Courage Harry. I fled from you too remember, but long before I fortified myself to show just how deep my affections lay."

"You did not flee?" Harry began to contradict, but Draco would not let him.

"When we were boys, and I became most unfair with you," he said, sadness cresting over his features. "My cruelness was born from fear, fear of how deeply I..." he steeled himself. "How deeply and surely I loved you, my dearest and most cherished Harry."