The Scent Of Malice | drarry

thirty two | the letter

The following night, Harry's dreams took a darker turn.

He was in a tunnel, long and oppressively dark with seemingly no end to it. He found himself walking, slowly at first, then faster, and by the time he was running, he became aware of something behind him. Something to run from.

"Harry," it called in dulcet, soothing tones, like it was singing. "Come and kiss me again."

He'd know that voice anywhere, more so in his dreams.

"Harry," called the voice again. Harry couldn't resist this time, and turned around slowly.

And there he was, the most beautiful boy in the world. A halo-like light spilled down over his blonde head to illuminate his delicate features and cast shadows under his pretty eyelashes.

"Are you high?" Harry asked breathlessly, and the vision shook his head. He had the ecstasy softness but his pupils were small, his silver eyes crystalline and sharp, so Harry believed him.

He leant in for the kiss he craved, shuddering a breath against the other boy in anticipation before their mouths met, and it was delirious and soft and warm.

"Do you love me, sweetheart?" Malfoy breathed, and Harry nodded.

"Yeah," he whispered back, before going to kiss him again - but Malfoy pulled back.

"Say it," he insisted quietly. He tangled a suddenly thin and skeletal hand through Harry's hair. "Say it to me."

"I love you," Harry replied willingly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Malfoy's. Why was his skin so cold now? "I love everything that you are."

When he opened his eyes, Malfoy's own were gone, and in their place were wild empty sockets in his head, and his skin was melting away into hard, unfeeling bone.

Harry watched in horror as serpentine coils erupted from every orifice on Malfoy's exposed skull, ripping from the neck of his dark suit - "Do you love me, sweetheart?" he rasped - and the halo was replaced with black ink that dripped like blood over the features of the boy Harry loved.

"I do," Harry whispered, though he was fighting every urge in his body that screamed at him to run away again.

"Do you love me now, Harry? Do you love me now, now, now?"

Harry lurched forwards with the shock of waking up, adrenaline tearing his nerves to shreds.

He balled his fists and then forced his entire body to physically relax, an attempt to regulate his breathing.

"I wish I'd never seen that bloody picture," he swore under his breath. His heart was still thudding like it might shut down.

Harry glanced over at Ron's bed. It wasn't even 7 in the morning, so of course the other boy's drapes were firmly drawn around his bed. Harry decided to leave them that way, he didn't fancy getting Hexed.

Would Hermione be up, he wondered? She sometimes liked to wander to the library early in the morning for a slot before classes, it might be worth going to see her for some comfort.

One thing Harry was sure about either way was that he didn't want to sit with his own thoughts any longer, so he pulled his robes and slippers on without further thought, and padded out of the dorm and down towards the calming wooden arches of the library.

***

He breathed a sigh of relief the second he caught sight of Hermione's familiar curls in the corner of the room.

Her desk was bathed in the flickering yellow wash of a candle, it was still far too early in the morning to be naturally light, and there were several open books in front of her which she was referring to with intense focus.

"Harry!" she said, shutting the pages with a  surprised snap as her friend dropped down next to her. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Weird dreams," he replied quietly. "About Malfoy."

Hermione sighed, resting her head against his chest. She could feel how hard his heart was beating, and her own heart hurt for him.

"You've got to stop letting him control you, Harry," she said. She was sick of saying it and hoped the frustration didn't leak into her tone. "He's so awful for you, and you just let him walk all over you."

"He's not that bad," Harry shook his head. "And I'm not exactly a good person myself."

Hermione turned her head to look up at Harry with pity. "You didn't always think that," she said quietly.

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, but it hurt him to realise that she was right. He used to think he was a decent person - no, better, he was a really good person. What had Malfoy done to him?

"I read Draco's diary," he said suddenly, hot shame overwhelming him again.

Hermione looked at him in confusion. "Okay," she said slowly. "That's not great but reading a diary doesn't make you evil."

"It's not his diary, really," Harry clarified. "It's his art book, but he writes his thoughts in it too. And I read so many of them. He scared the hell out of me when he caught me."

He paused, thinking. "Maybe I should write him an apology letter."

"A letter?" Hermione repeated doubtfully. "Won't he just use it to mock you?"

Harry shrugged. "He uses everything to mock me, how badly can this one hurt?"

"Depends what you write!"

Fair point. Harry pulled out a Quill from his robe pocket and helped himself to a sheet of parchment from Hermione's stack, ignoring her protests.

Starting it was the hard part - should he say his name properly? 'Dear Malfoy' sounded a bit wooden. Though maybe 'dear' was a bit sentimental.

To Draco, he opted for.

Words cannot convey how sorry I am to have betrayed your trust in such a way as I did yesterday morning. I know it was a serious violation of your privacy, and I regret it enormously.

"Good start?" he asked Hermione. She peered over his shoulder.

"Don't make it too soft," she advised him cautiously. "Don't give him ammunition."

"If I give it to him myself then at least I know what I'm up against," Harry replied.

Hermione still looked doubtful. He sighed, ripped the page up, and tossed it into the bin.

"Fine."

To Malfoy,

Sorry for reading your journal. I understand why you hit me for it-

"He hit you?!" Hermione asked, aghast. "What is wrong with the two of you that neither of you can process emotions in any way resembling normal?"

"Neither of us have decent father figures?" Harry suggested.

"You can't blame all the faults between the two of you on Daddy issues, Harry," Hermione told him, but she was smiling gently.

By the time Harry had written his apology it was light outside and time to head for breakfast, after a quick trip to the Owlery with the freshly inked parchment.

Harry wasn't sure exactly how much better he felt afterwards, but he was realising that he wanted to make amends with Malfoy whatever the cost. Anything was better than being ignored again.

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a/n: thanks so much for reading! please comment and vote if you enjoyed it, and stay tuned for the next instalment 🤍

~ paradisedraco