Prisoner 63

Kamikazee

A/N: Thanks for 9K guys! I'm glad that you're all enjoying this story.

Draco opened his eyes slowly to a head full of black hair, and immediately wanted to close them again. His head felt heavy and his insides felt hollow, and he already knew that today might just be the worst day of his entire life.

He shifted gently, watching Harry, who was still asleep. It had been a few weeks and he'd progressed unusually quickly, now able to stand and walk on his own without having to lean on Draco, although he still liked to. He was less pale as he enjoyed spending time outside, and he'd gained some weight, now not as skeletal as he'd been before. He was beginning to look like a normal teenager his age.

However, his personality hadn't changed and it was likely that it never would. He was still very quiet, rarely saying a word, and he'd only said half a sentence a few times. His timidness angered Lucius to no end, as it was clear the man was expecting a battle-born warrior, not the doe-eyed, fearful boy that was reality. Harry was incredibly kind and gentle though, with a warm nature.

When he was asleep he looked perfectly calm, his black hair messy, long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, his scarred lips slightly parted. Draco pulled him closer, leaning their foreheads together, desperately trying to convince himself that today wasn't reality. Being close to Harry usually made him feel better, but knowing that it could all come crashing down today made his heart physically hurt.

He pulled the duvet up over their heads, hoping that it would create some sort of barrier between them and the rest of the world. He'd always do this as a child when he was scared or upset; for some reason, the cover of a duvet seemed to make him feel safer, even though he knew that if he was actually in danger, a duvet wouldn't help him at all.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, watching Draco in silence. Harry was probably the only person Draco could be this physically and mentally close to without feeling awkward or uncomfortable, and he didn't quite know why. Something in Harry's eyes was just so impossibly calming and comforting, staring deep into them through the semi-darkness.

Harry had noticed Draco's upset nature; it was as if he could simply sense these things. "What's wrong?" He asked quietly, words barely more than a breathy whisper, ghosting across Draco's lips. Harry noticing his feelings only made them more real, and he instinctively pulled Harry closer.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Draco murmured in reply, Harry lifting one of his hands to poke Draco's cheek gently.

"Lie," he mumbled, diverting his gaze and rolling over onto his side, obviously hurt that Draco had lied so blatantly to him. Draco felt a stab of guilt, and slipped his arms around Harry's waist, pulling him close once again. Draco felt terrified that if he didn't have some sort of hold on Harry, he'd just slip away, fade into thin air.

"M' sorry," Draco whispered, words muffled by Harry's black hair. "I don't know how to tell the truth."

Harry had been noticing Draco's attitude slipping for a few days now, growing dimmer and dimmer with every hour that had passed. But how did Draco tell him that his happiness, his home, that everything he now loved and needed could be torn away from him? How did you tell someone that?

And so he didn't. Harry didn't respond, but let his hands slip over Draco's, a comforting gesture that let him know Harry understood and wasn't going to force him. Still slightly upset however, he refused to face Draco again, and they lay like that for the next ten minutes, simply listening to each other breathe.