Author's Notes: My first Harry Potter story, slash no less ^_^ I hope it meets to all your satisfactions. It's all in Draco's POV so tell me what you think. He may be a little OOC, but I think there's good reason to be here...
He sits there everyday. Never moving. I first came across him the day I wanted to sit by that magnificent tree and read one of my vast collection of muggle books (yes that's right. I, Draco Malfoy am capeable of reading, and of reading muggle books no less. Not that anyone knows I do read buggle books). I found him just sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, unless you count staring off into space something.
My first thought was of his friends. Did he leave them, are they having a fight? I was going to make a comment about it but when I looked at his face I didn't have the heart too (yep, I have a heart too, surprised?). And at the moment he has the exact same look on his face he did a year ago. His eyes are vacant, yet I can see a glistening of tears about to erupt. He seems to be holding back though. After I first saw him, I left him alone. He didn't look like he could take my insults. But later I saw him laughing and smiling again with the rest of the Gryffindors, and I wondered what had happened to make him sit out there by himself today.
The next day I cam across him again. The same place, same vacant look, and about the same time. So for a year now he's been coming to this place, to think I guess. But maybe he's been doing it since he first got here in the first year. Were now in our sixth year and I only just discovered he's been doing it a year ago. I still don't know what he thinks about.
Maybe I'll just- wait a minute! His shoulders are shaking, like he's sobbing his heart out but there's no one to listen. I swiftly make my way over to where he sits in the shade. I see him tense slightly, probably expecting one of his many friends are checking up on him. His head is still bowed, probably angry at himself for showing such a weakness. I don't mind though. I use to think Potter was perfect, but no one who's perfect sits there by himself everyday and tries to hold back the sobs.
I gently lift his head up by placing my finger underneath his smooth jaw. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears still managing to escape his thick black lashes. His ebony hair is in more disarray then usual and his robes look more rumpled, like he hasn't changed them for awhile.
I watch patiently as his eyes slowly open, a sliver of emerald green soon widening to surprise at who is kneeling before him. I don't wait for him to make a rude comment as to why a Malfoy is sitting there before him, a slender finger placed under his jaw. I enclose him is my arms and feel him tense against me. It takes awhile for him to relax and stop struggling to get out of my embrace. I think if he wanted to he could easily brake free, what with him being bigger then me. But I honestly think he's never been held before. Never been held at his moments of weakness. I'm sure no one has ever seen 'The Boy Who Lived' cry, but I have and it brakes my heart to know he's felt so badly for years now. And his peers don't see his hurt, maybe because he's mastered his happy facade so well that no one thinks otherwise. But with him shaking in my arms, his tears soaking my own robes I wonder how I had never held him before when he cried in this solitary place. I wonder how I had resisted it for so long.
His sobbing slowly dies off, but I can still feel the tears soaking my robes, and the slight quivering in his body tells me he is anything but fine.
"Why?" I feel him tense slightly at the unexpected question. But he loosens quickly and I feel more then hear his sigh against my neck. Does he know what I mean though? I don't want to explain myself..
"I've been coming out here since our first year at Hogwarts. I've had to change the times I come here sometimes, Ron and them try to follow me but I've managed to hide from them each time." "No.. why do you come here?" At least he answered part of my question.
"To escape. My nightmares, Voldemort, the other Gryffindors, the teachers, everything. I have to let go sometime. It gets harder each year, to hold everything in when I'm with them. I can't let them down. 'The Boy Who Lived' is supposed to be grateful that he's alive. But I'm not. Sure I'm gratefully to be living in Hogwarts instead of at my aunt's and uncle's. Every time I come home for summer break I have to spend my days in a fucking cupboard! When I'm not in there, I'm doing their grunt work. And it's a tight fit now in there believe me. Anyway.. people aren't supposed to know. I'm not supposed to cry, just like your not supposed to associate with me. So why are you?"
Oh Harry! I can't believe he has to go through that! I never knew. Then again, I never took the time to care. But I do now, and I'm not going to stop anytime soon. " Because your special," I place a finger against his silky lips, halting his protest "your special to me. You meant the world to me, and I wish I could take away all your pain, or at least share the burden with you. I've watched you come here for little over a year now, and I'm so sorry for not realizing sooner that you needed someone to understand who you really are, to see past your facade. Me of all people should have seen past that considering I use one too. Will you forgive me for not realizing it sooner? And forgive me for holding you uninvited?"
Harry's emerald eyes pierce my very soul. He seemed to be mulling over something, when suddenly he brakes into a bright smile. He looks different somehow, then I realize his smile is real, his eyes are shining with true happiness.. and something unrecognizable.
"I can forgive you for not realizing it sooner but I can't forgive you for holding me." I feel my heart brake painfully at hearing his words. My eyes glisten but I don't brake his stare. "You don't have to be sorry for that Draco, I needed it. And I wanted it. I've never felt as safe as I do now in your arms." My silver-blue eyes dry quickly, and I watch surprised as Harry leans forward. I feel his heated breath against my lips before I close the distance between us. His warm tongue glides over my cool lips and I open my mouth willingly. Our moans get silenced by each others mouths as he presses his body flush against mine. I know this is how far it'll go. I'm not ready for more, just like I know he's not ready.
If only I had known he felt the same, and if I had known he was this unhappy. I would have held him in my arms a long time ago. But it doesn't matter now. He's here in my arms and that's all I need, all he needs. And if he feels safe in my arms, all the more reason to hold him.
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