sweetener; drarry

15; pathetic fallacy

TRACK 15
Beach House
Boy Pablo

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A small part of Harry snarled in his ears and clawed desperately at his shoulders to pull him back, but a much larger part drove him onwards and outside. He didn't have a clue what he would say, didn't even know where to start, but he would figure that out once he got there.

Once he'd pushed open the great oak doors of the Entrance Hall, a burst of biting wind curled around his exposed cheeks and slapped them. He exhaled a short breath of surprise, barely noticing the white cloud that had formed and now spiralled into the similarly achromatic abyss above. It didn't take long for him to fly down the steps, hardly even touching the ground as he moved. It was only once he'd reached the bottom that his journey hardened significantly. He now battled against the powerful wind that huffed and puffed and screamed at him, he fought the snow that thumped on his hair and weighed him down, he engaged in combat with the chilling mist that made everything white. It was ridiculously difficult to discern one grey outline from another as Harry bashed his sides on things and cried out in brief flashes of pain. It was only when one of those very things yelped back that he stopped.

Squinting his eyes and rubbing away the shield of fog that had settled on his glasses, Harry could only just make out the face of Draco Malfoy. It didn't even register to him that he was practically freezing and his fingers were oh, so numb — he was far too busy staring at Draco's chattering teeth, the way his blond hair bounced slightly as he shivered. Neither spoke, both too stunned that they could actually see each other in such harsh weather. Harry plunged his hand into his cloak pocket and whipped out his Gryffindor scarf, advancing on Draco. He placed it over the blond's head — who almost flinched away but came back once he felt the warmth radiating from the piece of clothing — and wound it around his thin neck. Harry noted that he could clearly see the outline of Draco's Adam's Apple and throat.

Draco immediately buried the lower half of his face in the scarf, closing his eyes and seemingly trying to inhale the warmth — have it spread through his veins and heat him from within — before reopening them and flashing a grateful look at Harry. It was only when the brunet lifted his gaze from Draco's pale blue eyes to his shining blond hair that he noticed the latter was wet. Not just his hair or his face, no, but his entire body. He was soaked from head to toe, turning bluer and bluer each second he stood out in the open air. Harry opened his mouth to ask why the other was drenched, before a hole in the icy skin of the lake caught his eye. A hole, large enough to fit a skinny human, had opened at the edge of the lake — surrounded by cracks and lapping, freezing water. Had Draco fallen in?
"Did you fall—"
"I jumped in." Harry was taken aback, Draco had voluntarily jumped into the terrifyingly cold lake?
"What do you me—"
"I thought it would kill me, but the Giant Squid fished me out." There was spite in his voice, hatred mingled with hesitance. The blond looked away as he spoke, eyes glazing over.

Harry didn't know what to say. Draco had tried to kill himself. What could you say to someone in that mind set? He kept his eyes locked onto Draco's, concern laced in his eyebrows and a slightly parted mouth. He knew Malfoy was bad, he just didn't know it was like this. A tiny, selfish thought itched it's way into the forefront of his mind — telling him to run! Run, whilst you still can! He's too much to handle, leave him to die! No. Harry would not back down now, not when this broken boy was so beaten and full of hatred that he felt the only way to release it all was to die.

Words had betrayed him, sped past him and refused to stop for guidance. Actions were all that counted now. Without allowing even a second of regret or hesitance to cross his mind, Harry closed the gap between him and Draco and pressed the boy's body into his own. He placed one hand in the small of the blond's back and the other cupped his jaw. He would hold on this time, he wouldn't let go. Not until he knew it was safe. His lips hugged the other's, a soft, tender kiss that translated everything the brunet wished he could say. Before long, Draco's bony fingers found themselves on the back of Harry's head, gripping his hair as if he would crumble away without the support. Harry managed not to flinch away from Draco's frozen hands or the feeling of his sharp hipbones on his thighs. He held the embrace, even after Draco's ribs (that cut through his own pale skin like a knife) brushed against his chest and his stick-thin thighs connected with his body. Draco was a skeleton, sickening to look at and even worse to touch. But somehow Harry couldn't let go, he found himself yearning for those bony hands in his hair, the blond's slender body against his own.

When Harry pulled away, Draco followed before opening his eyes and simply staring. A glance passed between them, a fleeting thing that spoke volumes, before Harry opened his mouth to speak.
"Stay alive," he bit his lip, "please." As if that one word would solidify the deal.
"I'm scared, Harry." Draco breathed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the brunet's as a tear slid down his nose.
"I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" Harry promised, something so difficult to achieve he suddenly felt rather sick, "let's get you inside." And the pair did just that.

Draco was quiet for quite some time once Harry had helped him inside and settled him in front of the fire in the library. It wasn't a spiteful silence, or an awkward vigil. It was more like a moment for both parties to truly think. Harry knew what Draco was thinking, he could almost feel it radiating off the blond (will he stick to his word? Can he really save me?) but he didn't want to break the silence with an answer. Instead, he sat beside Draco and cupped one of the blond's cold, cold hands in both of his — drawing little patterns on his palm with a finger. It calmed the brunet down, to be so close, and the tension looming around Draco also seemed to soften.

It immediately hardened again when Ron's hostile voice thundered from the entrance of the library and carried all the way to where Draco and Harry were sitting,
"Get the fuck away from that Death Eater scum, Harry!"