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Drabble 4: The Traveler
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"You're a stupid sod, Draco!"
Draco drew back, flinching as Harry's anger washed over him.
"Really?" he said weakly.
"Yes, really! How can you stand there, looking all innocent, pretending you're the perfect boyfriend, when you've been running around with Pansy bloody Parkinson, of all people! Who do you take me for?!"
"Well, Harry, I thought you understood that we weren't exclusive—"
"I know we aren't bloody exclusive! But Pansy?!"
"Well, she has this proprietary way of running her fingers through my hair that—"
"Stop! Just stop, Draco! And then there's Kevin?! From the Department of Mysteries?"
"Well, he has really nice abs, and—"
"OK," Harry said. "You know what, Draco? I can't do this anymore. We're done."
"What? But, Harry… You're my—"
"Your what?" Harry snapped, his green eyes blazing with hurt and anger. "Your number one? Your favorite boy toy? Your convenient fuck buddy? No more, Draco. I'm tired of always putting you first, when you never put me first! You come to me for leftovers when you're tired of everyone else! I don't deserve to be treated like this."
"I know," Draco said, "I'm sorry, I just—"
Harry, however, didn't let him finish. He turned on his heel and stormed away, until his angry footsteps were abruptly cut off by the slamming of the front door. Draco watched him go, unspoken words weighing heavily on the growing chasm between them.
"—love you… and I don't know how to say it," he whispered, to the now empty room.
The portraits around him snickered.
"What's wrong with you, boy?" the portrait of Abraxas Malfoy snapped, from the confines of his painted plush leather armchair, set against a dark green backdrop. "Why are you toying with that young man?"
"Leave me alone, Grandad," Draco muttered.
"Oh shut up, you fool! In my day, we didn't sleep with a whole hoard of brainless twits just because we didn't have the balls to admit our feelings. Man up, and tell that boy how you feel!"
Draco groaned and turned away, heading to his bedroom, which was blissfully portrait free.
"Oh sure, run away, boy!" Abraxas called after him, rising out of his armchair, as his voice echoed across the room. "Go on, you coward! Shaming the family name! Avada Kedavra!"
Draco whirled around, his mouth dropping open, as a splatter of green paint landed on the wall next to him, errant drops trailing down to the floor.
"Did you just try to kill me, you stupid codger? With paint?!"
"Someone needs to teach you a lesson, young man!" Abraxas said, raising his painted wand again. "Avada Kedavra!"
"Protego!" Draco said, rolling his eyes.
His protection spell collided with the newest splatter of green paint, and suddenly the whole world around him shook. Draco cursed wildly, trying to stay on his feet. With an effort of will, he forced the shield of his Protego outward, until it shattered into a million shards of crystalized green.
When it fell away, he was blinking in sudden sunlight.
He stared around, openmouthed. Had he accidentally destroyed his whole house?
His first thought was that that insufferable portrait would be gone at last.
His second thought was that the surrounding area did not entirely look like the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
His third and final thought was a shocked curse because Hermione Granger was advancing on him, with her fist raised in a very nostalgic way, and he didn't have time to think anymore.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" she cursed, and before he could so much as open his mouth, she punched him in the face. Again.
"Granger?" he said weakly.
"Don't you 'Granger' me!" she yelled. "How could you leave Harry at the altar like that?"
"I — what?"
"What?" she repeated, her hair inflating to twice its usual size, which was already impressive. "WHAT?! YOU STUPID TOSSER!"
Draco glanced around, trying to see past her ridiculous hair, and spotted Harry, who was wearing a fitted black tuxedo that made him look deliciously dashing. He was sitting dejectedly on the steps of a small platform, set against a backdrop of flowers, and surrounded by all the Weasleys. There were about fifty dainty white chairs set on the lawn facing the platform, all empty. He gaped.
"I didn't — what altar? What's happening?"
"Don't play stupid!" she scoffed. "Harry just finished telling you his vows, and instead of saying yours you said, 'I'm sorry, Harry, I can't do this,' and walked away! How dare you show your face again?!"
"I did what?!" Completely dumfounded, Draco glanced at Harry again, who raised his teary, shimmering eyes to meet Draco's.
"Draco…" He stumbled abruptly to his feet and ran in Draco's direction, his eyes lighting up. "You've come back!"
"I…" Draco managed.
Harry stopped before him, his face lighting up with naked hope. "You've changed your mind? You want to get married after all?"
"Marriage? Are you mad?" Draco said weakly.
It was, he realized too late, entirely the wrong thing to say. Harry let out a choked sob, pushed past him, and ran off toward the large manor behind them.
"W-wait!" Draco called, but Harry didn't stop. He stared in shock, wondering how many more times he was going to get it wrong.
"Now you've really done it, you stupid prat!" Hermione moaned, as the rest of the Weasleys approached.
"What's wrong with you?!" Ron yelled, jabbing his finger at Draco, his face as red as his hair. "How could you do that to my best mate?!"
And then, out of nowhere, he heard a shockingly familiar voice:
"Still haven't figured it out?! Avada Kedavra!"
"Bloody hell!" Draco gasped, staring at the familiar portrait, which had somehow appeared in Granger's hands, as if she had magicked it out of thin air. "Protego!"
One more shattering explosion of painted crystals later, Draco was standing in a vast space with several high-powered electric lights beaming down on him from a grid on the ceiling. People were running unceremoniously around him, carrying all manner of odd things, and the room was filled with green backdrops, video monitors, cameras, and all sorts of other odd Muggles things. He gazed around, open-mouthed, and saw Harry approaching him.
"We are not engaged!" Draco said hurriedly. "And where the hell are we?"
Harry stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Engaged? I bloody well hope not. Carlos wants us for the wides of the Astronomy Tower now."
Draco tilted his head questionably. "I think I'm in a rather odd dream."
Harry lowered his head conspiratorially. "Aren't we all? Look, I know Ella's turned you down again, but we still have to shoot this scene. Come on, Tim."
Draco decided to ignore this, whatever it meant. "Harry, I'm sorry about everything. I love you."
There. He'd said it. Bloody said it!
"Er—" Harry said. "Cool. I think you're great too!"
Draco stepped forward and abruptly kissed Harry full on the mouth. Hard.
Harry slithered out of his grasp like a slimy little serpent. "Er—" he said. "Tim?"
"Harry," Draco drawled.
"It's Daniyel," Harry said. "Bloody hell, have you hit your head? Or — Oh!" His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. "Are you… Draco?"
"Of course I am. Who else would I be, you dolt!"
"Er — well this wasn't supposed to happen."
"What wasn't?"
"I'm afraid I'm out of words," Harry — Daniyel? — said. He dug into his pocket and removed a familiar painting, which was definitely too big to have been there in the first place.
"Oh no," Draco said.
Abraxas laughed. "Oh, yes! Avada Kedavra, boy!"
"Protego?" Draco said incredulously.
Everything turned green, and when he opened his eyes, he was on the familiar floor of his drawing room. Harry was leaning down beside him.
"Are you real?" Draco whispered.
Harry smiled and winked.
There were simply no words.