Runaway's ↠ Drarry

Eight

Draco was racing around the Ministry of Magic in a frenzy, panic written across his features.
He was also receiving odd stares from nearly everyone he ran past, but he couldn't care less.

Harry was missing.

He's searched the hospital rooms, he's questioned people, he's looked in nooks and crannies... he just couldn't find him. Anywhere.
He was missing, and Draco's anxiety only seemed to grow the more places he checked.

He almost wished the numbing spell would wear off purely so he could know if Harry was even near by.

He ran through corridor after corridor and searched empty closets, ran up stairs and down... It wasn't until he remembered he forgot to check the roof did he feel himself calm in hopes that Harry was okay, and didn't run away or had gotten himself kidnapped.

Draco made his way out of the Ministry of Magic and sprinted up the stairs to the roof of the building it was under, skipping three steps at a time. He pushed opened the door to the roof and stepped out into the oddly cold, afternoon air, panting; his cheeks flushed.

He scanned the rooftop, his eyes finally landing on a mop of inky black hair, owned to a figure sitting at the edge of the roof with his knees curled to his chest.

Harry.

Draco let out a breath of relief, his heart still racing, before walking over to Harry and sitting down next to him, his legs dangling off the roof; their shoulders rubbing against each other.

There was a long silence, before Draco spoke; "You scared me." He said quietly.

He felt like if he talked too loud he would scare Harry away.

Harry rested his cheek on his knee and looked over to Draco, his glasses bent slightly from the awkward position they were in.

He stared for a while, almost as if zoning out, before he spoke;

"It makes me emotional how you know exactly what the Death Eaters were thinking and exactly how you know Voldemort isn't strong yet." Harry mumbled, his hair falling over his forehead.

Draco stayed quiet and turned away from Harry's eyes, looking into the city. He didn't know how to reply. He didn't even realize that he knew all of those things.

There was a short pause, "I was raised by a Death Eater; I housed Voldemort; I was raised thinking like a Death Eater; Voldemort shared his plans with my father and I... I was raised to become a Death Eater." Draco replied finally, subconsciously placing his hand over his dark mark, "It's who I am." He said the last sentence so quietly, he didn't even think he said it out loud.

Harry's insides twisted with the lack of emotion showed on Draco's face, and the lack of emotion heard in his words. It was almost like he was numb to the subject- and he probably was. He was harassed for something he was not in control of. He was harassed for the way he was raised. Harassed for something he was forced to do. And he probably would've still have been harassed if it weren't for him faking his death- Harry wouldn't be surprised if rumours started popping up about Draco again.

But... the fact that Draco believed that that defined who he was -- who he is... that's what made Harry want to cry.

Harry grabbed Draco's hand; removing it from covering his Dark Mark, "you're not that person, Draco," Harry said softly, lightly running his fingers over the tattoo, "you never were that person. And you never will be. You're Draco Malfoy. My boyfriend. My love."

Harry planted a soft kiss over Draco's Dark Mark, then planted a kiss on his cheek, "it wasn't your fault for the way you were raised, my love." He assured. "You've done wrong. We all have. You've evolved into a better person, and I'm proud of you. You aren't that person you think you are. You aren't a Death Eater. You never were."

Draco felt tears immediately fill his eyes at Harry's words; his heart twisted in admiration for this boy... the Boy with a mess of black hair, that didn't seem to be tameable. The boy eith jade green eyes that Draco could get lost in for hours on end, and not even car. The boy who undoubtedly held Draco's fragile heart in his bare palms. The boy who could destroy Draco in the snap of his fingers, and Draco would apologize for it. The Golden Boy. The Boy Who Lived. The boy Draco was so, undeniably in love with.

It physically pained him, and yet Draco didn't want it to stop. He never wanted to stop loving Harry Potter. Harry Potter was his life. It was his breath of fresh air after breathing what felt like poison for his entire life. Harry was his remedy to being happy.
And Draco knew that he shouldn't rely on Harry like he knew he did but... who could blame him? The boy saved Draco on more than one occasion and... well, Draco was in his debt.

And he didn't mind at all. He'd walk around the world in twenty-four hours if Harry asked him to.

Draco leaned his head against Harry's shoulder, "we'll get through this, Harry Potter." Draco whispered. "I promise."