The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 38: My Heart Will Go On

2 years ago. December 1997. Unknown Locations.

When Harry woke the following day it was several seconds before he remembered what had happened. Then he hoped childishly, that it had been a dream, that Ron and Hermione were both still there and had never left. Yet by turning his head on his pillow he could see Ron's deserted bunk. It was like a dead body in the way it seems to draw his eyes. He's gone, Harry told himself. They're both gone. He had to keep thinking it as he washed and dressed as though repetition would dull the shock of it. They're gone and they're probably not coming back. And that was the simple truth of it, Harry knew, because their protective enchantments meant that it would be impossible, once they vacated this spot, for Hermione or Ron to find them again. He tensed at the thought and willed himself not to cry again.

"Hey." A soft voice spoke from beside him. "You're awake."

It was then he noticed the pair of arms wrapped around his chest. Harry slowly turned his head on the soft pillow towards the voice. Draco stared at Harry in silence as he turned to face him, tucking a piece of Harry's stray hair behind his ear and pulling him closer. He felt Harry tense and sighed sadly, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Good Morning."

He heard Harry mutter a reply. His voice was hoarse and tired despite the hours of sleep beforehand. He and Harry ate breakfast while sitting in silence. They would intertwine their hands together and eat using the other, for Draco knew that this would at least comfort Harry. They packed up their things, and occasionally, Harry would find himself looking around (for he could not help hoping a little, himself) and hoped to see that wave of red hair in between trees, that spark of bushy hair... but he saw nothing but rain-swept woods, another little parcel of fury exploded inside him. He could hear Ron saying, "Your parents are dead! You have no family!" , and he resumed packing with a hard knot in the pit of his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked from beside him as Harry shrunk one of the beds and put it in Hermione's little bag.

Harry froze in his actions, and stayed frozen for what seemed to be centuries before he let out a shaky sigh and shook his head. The bag dropped to the floor with a thump As he collapsed down to the floor and leaned back against wall of the tent, pinching his eyes and biting his lip, his eyebrows furrowed.

He felt Draco sat down next to him and felt a hand intertwine with his. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned towards the blonde to find him frowning sadly at him.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry shook his head shakily again.

"No."

He closed his eyes and turned away, letting his head fall back. He heard Draco sigh beside from him and soon felt him move closer to envelop Harry in a side-hug, with Harry's head resting on his shoulder.

...

The muddy river beside the tent was rising rapidly and would soon spill over onto their bank. They had lingered a good hour after they would usually have departed their campsite. Finally having entirely repacked the beaded bag three times, Draco seemed unable to find any more reasons to delay: he and Harry grasped hands and Disapparated, reappearing on a windswept heather-covered hillside.

The instant they arrived, Harry dropped Draco's hand and walked away from him, finally sitting down on a large rock, his face on his knees, shaking with what Draco knew were sobs. Draco watched him, supposing that he ought to go and comfort him, but something kept him rooted to the spot. He watched again as he strode off through the heather, walking in a large circle with the distraught Harry at its center, casting the spell he usually performed to ensure their protection.