Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

And in the Night...

Since, I was young, I knew I'd find you
But our love, was a song, sung by a dying swan
And in the night, you hear me calling
And in your dreams, you see me falling

Breathe in the light
I'll stay here in the shadow
Waiting for a sign, as the tide grows
Higher and higher and higher

And when the nights are long
All those stars recall, your goodbye

Breathe in the light and say goodbye

— Oblivion by M83

***AN: Think of the song from Draco's point of view. 🤐 I planned on releasing a couple more chapters but real life happened! *runs away*

~ o O o ~

The first week of December had been a blur... and fucking awful.

Accompanied by Ron, Hermione, and Luna, Harry had given The Quibbler an Exclusive Interview the weekend prior. It had taken all of Harry's self control not to break down when he called his relationship with Draco a 'casual fling and a mistake that had started from a drunken dare'. The amount of Firewhisky and Butterbeer Harry had consumed soon after had been staggering that he couldn't even recall how he'd made it back to his dorm room in one piece.

Draco had never once left Harry's side that night. The blond hadn't said a single word about the interview and Harry had been too drunk to even form a coherent thought about anything. They had lain together, tangled in each other's embrace, touching every single surface of skin they could reach as though afraid that the other would suddenly fade into the blackness of night. They didn't do much else. They had simply clung to one another in desperation; Harry disjointedly whispering things he'd usually be too afraid to say aloud if he'd been sober and Draco listening, breathing brokenly against Harry's skin as he pressed fevered kisses along the curve of Harry's neck. And just right before sleep had claimed him into it's foggy embrace, Harry had murmured into Draco's hair, weakly pleading in a drunken slur; his voice cracking around the words, "Please don't read it. Promise me, Draco."

Harry never did find out if Draco ever read that Quibbler Exclusive. Draco hadn't breathed a word of it. In much the same way that Harry had never mentioned that he'd accidentally found Narcissa's letter and had read it. Harry had stewed over that for days, plagued with guilt. He knew he should tell Draco but he just couldn't bring himself to. Harry understood just how personal it had been for Draco and was entirely too clear on how much it still affected the blond.

The resulting hubbub from Harry's interview had been unbearable to say the least. The deluge of letters and well wishes that came flooding in daily had become utterly unmanageable that McGonagall had to filter Harry's post, redirecting mail from unknown senders to some obscure part of the castle that Harry had absolutely no desire of ever visiting. The letters could stay there and rot for all he fucking cared.

The reactions from the Hogwarts students had been equally distasteful. Although a few seemed to have been genuinely saddened by the new development, overall the atmosphere around Hogwarts had been that of immense relief. It was then that reality had finally hit Harry hard. The rest of the world truly wasn't ready for what he and Draco shared between them. The Saviour and a Death Eater, in the public's view, had no business being together. After all, in their esteemed opinions, the Hero could never really love a villain. It was a gut-wrenching realisation.