DRARRY BITS

Daydream

Type: 6th year, angst.
word count: 678

Draco wasn't hungry, and watching as everyone filled their plates with various sorts of food made him loathe the thought of eating even more. He hadn't properly eaten nor slept in a few days, or perhaps a couple weeks, not that he cared to tell, but it was beginning to take a toll on him, draining every bit of life out of him until he looked like a withering plant.

Dean and Seamus came walking with ease along the gryfinndor table, hand in hand. The taller boy kept shooting his companion with comforting glances as the other boy was restless, burning in nervousness as it seemed to Draco who watched them sit with the group of friends next to each other.

"Guys, we have something to tell you." Dean announced, and everyone of the group fell silent, cutting whatever conversations they were in the middle of to listen to what he had to say, which seemed to be of importance to him. Everyone, including Harry and Draco from the slytherin table.

"Seamus and I are dating." After letting in a huge breath to fill his lungs, he went on. A confident smile drew itself on his face, overwhelmed by relief now that he got to lift such a heavy weight off his shoulders, watching as everyone's faces lit up with a smile, joy adorning every face his eyes fell on as they heard the news. He looked to his side where his boyfriend, who unlike him was still unsettled, sat, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before taking it up to his lips and plating a deep kiss on its back.

Meanwhile everybody was showering the two boys with congratulations, assuring them that they have their full support and that nothing had changed, Draco's eyes lingered to Harry, specifically his hands, with his heart burning between his ribs. His chest painfully tightened to the point that he could no longer welcome in a breath as he kept his eyes following every little move of Harry's hands, from the way he ran his hand through his hair, his fingers getting caught in the soft mess of tangles in attempts to brush it back, the way he drew idle shapes on the table with his finger, to the way he drummed his fingers on his cheek as he listened to Hermione telling them all kinds of crazy stories from her summer.

In his mind, Draco drew an image of him holding Harry's hand, their fingers knitted together, promising himself that if one day, in a fantasy, he got to hold the gryfinndor's hand, he'd never let his grip grow loose, the world could fall apart around them and he'd keep holding on to it as if it's his last ray of hope, if it costs him his life. He so badly wanted to feel the warmth of Harry's hand emitting against his own as he runs his thumb over his knuckles, the skin under his fingertip so soft that it feels as though he's touching a cloud, as he stamps a timid kiss on each of Harry's fingers, hoping to see his face breaking in a grin of delight. He pictured himself falling asleep with Harry's hand in his, fighting away his fears when they invade his mind in the darkest hours of the night.

"What's on your mind, Dray?" A low feminine voice came from his side, breaking through his daydream with a wave of evident concern. Pansy patted swiftly on his back, trying to provide the serenity she noticed he lacked, but he quickly flinched away at her touch.

"Nothing." His lie of a reply was followed by a loaded sigh as he looked away, knowing that by looking through his eyes she'd be able to read him like an open book. He stood up and left the table, feeling her eyes glued to his figure in search for answers. There was no way to explain that his family would be prized for killing the boy he loves most, and that it was expected of him to help.