Drarry || One Shots

Painful Nights But Not As Lonely Sunrises

Harry dejectedly walked out of Dumbledore's office, hundreds of thoughts running through his head and not a single one of them managing to take form. The first rays of sun peeked over the mountains and lit the side of his face, warming the tear stained skin. He didn't remember crying. He found he wanted to do so now, to wail and scratch at his face in despair, to shout at how simply unfair the world was. He couldn't. He couldn't feel his hands and legs, and yet he was walking. He couldn't feel his heart beating in his chest, and yet he was breathing. He couldn't feel anything, and yet he was suffocating. Where was the grief and sorrow from just a few hours ago as he watched his godfather's still body fall through the veil? Where was the guilt, the hate and anger?

Why was he suddenly so empty?

The newfound knowledge that he was destined to either kill Voldemort or die by his hand left nothing but a deeper void inside of him. He should have cried and yelled, yet he just walked out. Maybe that was just the last drop that pushed him too far. The one drop that made him let go and willingly slide down a slippery path that would lead to nothing but darkness. Maybe Neville will be visiting him as well as his parents in St. Mungo's psychological diseases department.

He calmly decided, though, that being aware of going insane should mean he wasn't going insane. The thought did not soothe him as it should.

He didn't know what to do with his life. Didn't know how to go about things anymore. He felt, all of a sudden, that if he was presented with a quill and a piece of parchment he would no longer know what to do with them, just how he didn't know what to do with himself. A fleeting thought of writing to Sirius finally formed in his head, though it quickly morphed into a painful pang in his chest at the cruel reminder that Sirius would no longer be answering his letters. He was grateful for the pain, though. It was different from numbness and different was good.

Feeling the despairing pits of nothingness engulf him, he decided to start with something easier. He pushed the mess of thoughts, maniacal laughs and dredful screams aside and focused all his energy into the small things. Things he could handle. Right then, that moment. What to do?

Normally, at this time, he would walk down to breakfast and talk about his O.W.Ls as though there wasn't the most powerful wizard out there just waiting around the corner to be rid of him. He wouldn't do that today, though, no. He thought of going back to the common room, but he wasn't sure he could take sympathetic looks from Ron and Hermione and a stretched silence before being asked what him and Dumbledore talked about for the best part of the night.

He sighed heavily. He didn't want to be alone, but at the same time could not manage pity right then. It seemed as though he couldn't handle the small things either, after all.

As he pushed the stone gargoyle aside and made his way into the hallway, he fleetingly thought maybe the forest would provide him with a little bit of peace. That was until he noticed the figure leaning against the wall. There, with a slight frown on his face and restless gestures, stood Draco Malfoy. He looked at Harry as though he could see his very soul and said nothing but: "I spoke to Granger and Weasley."

And in that moment, Harry felt a great rush of affection for his two best friends. How could he have ever thought they wouldn't know exactly what he needed. And sending Draco for him surely was just that.

Draco didn't say anything else, but just wrapped his boyfriend in a fierce hug that carried across many unspoken words and understanding only your most loved one could manage. It was then, and only then, that Harry started to grasp the real world. Only then that the cap he unwillingly and unknowingly put on his feelings to protect himself popped open. It did so because now he wasn't alone. Now he was in the arms of the boy he loved and he was just that bit warmer. He was home and he had someone to bear it all with him.

So he let the tears fall.

One after another they rolled down his cheeks and onto the slytherin green of Draco's robes, dampening them with all his pain and sorrows. But Draco didn't mind. He just tightened his grip on the shaking body in his arms and whispered a simple and most sincere I love you.

And suddenly, Harry wasn't so lost anymore.