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It has been a year since the war has ended, yet Harry still felt like he was living that day in an endless loop. His nights were restless, screaming his lungs out until he woke up in a breathless haze at 3 a.m. as he tried to recover from another nightmare. The smallest flash of light or the loudest bang reeled him back to that horrific day. Often times, he closed his eyes and saw his arm rising, wand in hand as he cast the charm that lead to Voldemort’s demise.
Hermione and Ron have been his friends since his young days in Hogwarts. He knew them like the back of his scarred hand. Therefore, he knew what every expression that crossed their face meant. They would often glance at each other, shooting knowing or worried looks whenever they spoke to him. Harry knew what those looks translated to. Their thoughts were true; he never truly got over the gruesome day he had participated in a year ago.
“The boy who lived.”
That was the phrase that was being thrown around nonstop now. If Harry was ever seen strolling around Diagon Alley, that was all he could hear being muttered under people’s breaths or shouted from across the street. He couldn’t even stop by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor without someone stopping him and shaking his hand. He was slightly sick of it because he didn’t feel that he truly was “the boy who lived.” He never really felt like he lived after that day.
If he could put it in simple words, he floated instead of walked. He grimaced instead of smiled. He barely ate anymore. Seeing people was the hardest thing he could do. Before that dreadful day, he could easily greet someone in the street with a wide smile and a wave. Now, it took him every ounce of energy he had in his body to meet the eyes of another person. Harry knew that if he had the choice to stay inside, he would rather choose to be a shut-in than ever go outside again.
“The boy who lived, yet he has such an attitude.”
“Ungrateful.”
“Bloody bastard.”
People also said these things. Maybe they thought Harry was a complete shut-in (or deaf). Right after the war had ended, he had hurriedly packed up his belongings from Hogwarts before running out the grand doors. He used his savings left from his mother and father to rent a small apartment near the Leaky Cauldron. It was an old, crumbling apartment full of older folks, but Harry did not mind since they didn’t bother him. Maybe people thought he did not hear the rumors coming from the wizarding world due to him living amongst Muggles now. However, that was not the case. Despite Hermione and Ron constantly walking on eggshells around him, they were honest when it came to what was being written in the papers, televised, or frankly said out loud.
Funny how people think just because you do not show your face, you are somehow ungrateful. They probably muse about what Harry does at home alone. They do not know how he sometimes curls into a ball in the middle of his bed and wishes for all the noises to go away. They did not know that the slightest of sounds could set him off in a panic, chest constricting and breath heaving. They did not know that there are days when he cannot even fathom getting out of bed, resulting in him rarely showing his face in public.
Sometimes, Harry wished he could go back to that day and end it all.
___________________________________________
Finally, Harry had gingerly stepped out of his messy apartment, but not without the help of Hermione and Ron. The pair had promised to never leave him alone, and he could really use their cheerfulness at this time. With Hermione’s help on fixing his unruly hair and Ron trying to find a clean shirt and a pair of jeans, he was ready to confidently walk out of the house. After some convincing, Harry had finally felt comfortable enough to face the bumbling sidewalks of Diagon Alley. He had not stopped by any shops in awhile, and Hermione and Ron seemed to think it would be beneficial for him to breathe in some fresh air.
“Do I really have to?” He whined as he noticed a group of older wizards crowding around the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. They were rowdy and most likely drunk, laughing loudly and playfully shoving each other around.
“Oh, Harry, stop complaining. Maybe you’ll enjoy it?” Hermione chuckled. Ron shot him a smile, one that said “Yeah, what she said.” She nodded at the wizards in greeting before entering the pub. Harry noticed their eyes widening when they realized who he was through their drunken haze. The trio walk behind the establishment and entered the bustling street of Diagon Alley.
Immediately, he could feel everyone’s eyes piercing into him. Hermione and Ron were already making themselves busy as they ran over to a shop that was displaying the newest cauldron decorated in jewels and pearls. A small smile displayed itself on Harry’s face. He joined them and with a clap on the back from Ron, they embarked on their journey down the cobblestone roads.
They passed the Apothecary; jars of dried roots, colorful powders, and herbs adorned the window display and inside of the shop. A pang of melancholy hit Harry as he realized there was no reason to enter the shop now that he would no longer be receiving a supply list this summer.
As the trio ventured through the crowd, a cloaked figure pushed through the swarms, swearing under their breath as they strode quickly down the street. They seemed to have somewhere to go and they needed to get there quickly. They were hunched over as if every step they took struck pain through them. Harry noticed the mysterious individual skulking against the corner of the streets just as he was about to enter Flourish and Blotts. Hermione had wanted to get a brand new set of quills and there was no way Ron or Harry could say no to her.
He waited for his friends to enter the shop before promptly turning around and following the person who was about to turn left into a dark alleyway that lead to Knockturn Alley. He turned into the alleyway, still trailing behind the cloaked person. The dark, thick material of their cloak billowed around their feet as they paced down the dank alley. Now, Harry was right behind the person and, in the moment, decided to grab their arm. He was immediately shoved against a disintegrating brick wall. He winced from the impact as he tried to look up at the figure who was struggling to pin him down. They grabbed both his arms and pinned them above his head in a tight grip. The hood of their cloak had slipped off and Harry could recognize their face immediately.
Pale skin, platinum blond hair, and grey eyes that looked almost lifeless now. The features of their face were slightly marred. Blooming bruises flourished around his eyes and a cut caused a trail of blood to streak down his chin. Yet, Harry would be able to recognize his face anywhere.
“D-Draco?” He stuttered out in shock. The older boy sneered at him before looking away.
“Shut up, Potter,” Draco spat his name out like he had just swallowed lethal poison. “Since when have you called me by my first name?”
“Malfoy,” He corrected, not wanting to push the other boy over the edge. “I-It’s been months since people have seen you! Where have you been?”
“Shut up, Potter. I said, shut. Up.”
Harry fell silent for a moment as he studied Draco’s face. His skin looked ghostly and dark circles adorned his under eyes. Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy in person since the day the war had ended. Hermione and Ron have mentioned him a few times whenever rumors would uprise that Malfoy had been spotted somewhere.
“What...what happened to your face?” Harry questioned. His arms were beginning to get tired as Malfoy continued to hold them up.
“Shut up,” He muttered in answer.
“No, I’m not going to shut up. You know what? You have been gone for so long, and I honestly don’t know why you choose now to show your fa—“
His rant was cut off when a pair of lips landed on his. They were slightly chapped and rough against his own as they tried to get him to stop talking. The bitter, salty taste of blood flooded his mouth. Malfoy was kissing him. Malfoy. The clash of tongue and teeth was a new sensation to Harry. Their bodies were so close to each other, and the warmth of their closeness enveloped them like a blanket. Harry would almost admit that he liked it, but there was not enough time to process his emotions. Just as quick as the kiss had started, it ended.
Malfoy ripped his body away from Harry’s and sprinted down the rest of the alleyway before making a sharp right. In his bleary state, Harry watched Malfoy’s retreating back and messy hair fluttering in the wind as he ran at full speed. Harry almost felt the need to race after him, but his body was still glued to where he stood against the brick walls. He brought his fingers to his lips where they slightly tingled from the harsh kiss Malfoy had shut him up with. The bizarre situation replayed in his head, generating a slight chuckle that became a full fit of laughter. Hasty footsteps approached the alleyway and he was surprised to see his two best friends in front of him.
“Harry? We were looking everywhere for you? Are you okay?” Hermione’s mother hen personality began to kick in as she threw question after question at him while she inspected him thoroughly. She pulled up the sleeves of his cloak and gasped.
“Whoa! Harry, your wrists are bright red.” Ron’s eyes were saucers, making Harry look down.
“Oh my! They’re going to bruise, Harry. I’ll heal them for you.” Hermione already had her wand out and she was just about to cast a Healing charm.
“No!” His voice had come out loud, too loud. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, I’ll do it when I get home.”
Hermione glanced at Ron, shooting a cursory glance at him before pocketing her wand apprehensively. Harry put on a convincing grin before wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders. He couldn’t tell them what had just happened. At least not now. He needed to mull over what had just happened before he told anyone. Draco Malfoy had just kissed him, and maybe—just maybe—he wanted it to happen again.
“C'mon, guys! I’m fine,” He laughed. “Hermione, did you get that set of quills you wanted?”
“No,” She pouted before explaining. “Ronald over here managed to convince me not to buy them. He’s lucky I like him enough to not hold it above his head for too long.”
Ron’s face turned crimson. He was so embarrassed that even the tips of his ears had flushed pink. The group burst into a pile of giggles before returning to Diagon Alley. There was a long, lively night ahead of them, and, for once, Harry was elated to be outside of his gloomy, Muggle apartment.
___________________________________________
On a dull Thursday night, Harry lied in bed, buried under a mountain of thick blankets. He had only gotten up to use the bathroom and grab something small to eat before the day was over and the moon had overcome the sun. He was currently curled up in a ball as he stared out the window that was across his room, studying the stars through the glass. He reached out, connecting the stars into shapes. The deep purple bruises on his wrist caught his attention. He had never healed the bruises Malfoy had gifted him. As he lied there, his mind trailed to thoughts that had been pushed deep into the back of his mind. The thought that infested his brain the most was the kiss he had shared with Malfoy.
Harry’s eyes fluttered closed as he tried to remember the secret they shared in that secluded alleyway. The warmth, the adrenaline. Everything had been so new to him in that moment. To be honest, he was craving those feelings again. But, besides the fact that they had kissed, Harry wanted to know why.
It was no surprise that Harry and Malfoy were sworn enemies. They had multiple scuffles since the day Harry had started attending Hogwarts. Malfoy always came after Harry and his friends, and Harry gladly fought back. However, the last time Harry had seen Draco Malfoy had not been pleasant. He still remembered watching Draco cry as Moaning Myrtle tried to calm him down. He also remembered her cries as Malfoy convulsed on the floor with blood foaming from his mouth. Sometimes Harry had nightmares about bathroom tiles, blood, and his voice shouting Sectumsempra! He had never meant for the spell to backfire the way it had, and he also knew he didn’t want Malfoy dead. He never had wanted Malfoy dead if he was being honest with himself.
Suddenly, Harry jerked up from his position with a bright idea in his head. He swiftly shoved his legs in a pair of black jeans that were riddled with tears across the knees. He shrugged an old, slightly dingy jean jacket over the wrinkly white shirt he wore before slipping on a pair of shoes and running out of his apartment and into the chilly night. Harry couldn’t take the thoughts and questions that constantly riddled his mind. He was exhausted of worrying about Malfoy’s cut lip and bruised eye.
He would find Malfoy and figure out everything that had happened that day. Then, he would turn back and go home. Knowing Malfoy was okay would steady the heavy beating in his heart and his sweaty palms. He was sure of it.
He hurried into Diagon Alley which was livelier than the last time he had visited. He pushed through throngs of people and got weird stares before many realized who he was. He finally escaped the horde and hurried into the alleyway where he had been cornered by Malfoy. He sprinted down the gravel floors and turned right, taking the exact route Malfoy had.
His run slowly halted as he looked around at the area he was in. The atmosphere was the complete opposite of the crowded Diagon Alley. It was mostly filled with bars and wizards that reeked of beer who leered at him as they passed. Harry peeked around corners, hoping to catch Malfoy running off somewhere. Just then, he heard a loud commotion come from behind him.
“GET OUT!” A booming voice echoed through the street.
“P-Please–“ A small voice pleaded. The voice was so small. Harry had never heard it sound so vulnerable.
“I said, GET. OUT.” He heard a small grunt and something hit the asphalt before a door was slammed shut.
Harry gingerly turned around, wincing at the sight he saw. Draco Malfoy was trying to sit up on the pavement as he clutched his side. Bruises littered the milky plane of his face and his lip was split open. Harry ran over to Malfoy and kneeled next to him. Malfoy’s eyes shot open and noticed Harry next to him.
“Potter...” He muttered. “What are you doing? Getawayfromme.”
His words mushed together as his eyes began to flit close. With a deep breath, Harry brandished his wand and muttered a few Healing spells, watching as Malfoy’s breathing became steady and the bruises and blood disappeared. He grabbed Malfoy’s shoulders before he fell onto the concrete.
“Draco?” He asked quietly. No answer came. “Draco?”
Harry violently shook Malfoy and watched as he came back to his senses. Recognizing Harry next to him, he wore a sloppy sneer before looking away.
“I guess I should say thank you, Potter,” Malfoy ridiculed. Harry noticed the grimace Malfoy had on his face as he forced himself to ignore Harry. Harry watched as Malfoy slowly tried to get up, but something had possessed him and he latched onto Malfoy’s wrist.
“I-I came to find you,” Harry admitted, looking away as he felt his cheeks grow hot. He could feel Malfoy’s pulse thumping against his hand.
“I was thinking of what had happened the last time we had seen each other...” He glanced up at Malfoy and averted his gaze, immediately regretting his action. Malfoy’s deep-set eyes bore into him as he continued speaking. “I don’t understand what had happened last week. We’re sworn enemies, you and I. So, what had changed between us? Especially since what had happened a year ago.”
Harry continued explaining as his grip tightened on Malfoy’s surprisingly slim wrist. He had always towered over Harry, yet he was so thin.
“A-All week, I thought about...you. I thought about the bruises you had on your face and that cut on your lip, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So, I thought coming here and finding you would give me some clarity. But...I’m even more worried than before. I just want to help you.”
The silence between them was excruciating. Harry’s face burned from mortification as he tried not to sneak a look at Malfoy’s ponderous face. All of a sudden, Malfoy wriggled his hand out of Harry’s hold. Harry only had a split-second to feel the crush of disappointment before Malfoy’s spindly fingers properly intertwined with his. Malfoy brought a hand to Harry’s warm, blushing cheek and tucked a piece of Harry’s messy hair around his ear. A soft smile adorned Draco’s lips. Harry could almost feel himself leaning in.
Draco’s stormy eyes were sad despite the small smile he wore. It was almost painful to look into his eyes because of how much sadness his gray pupils seemed to hold. Draco’s eyes seemed to harbor every ounce of sadness in him and project it with one glance. Harry almost felt consumed in Draco’s grief as he continued to look into his silvery eyes.
“Potter,” Draco gently whispered. He shook his head and started again. “I mean, Harry. How can you help me?”
“Come home with me.” Harry knew this was the only option, and he wasn’t afraid to offer it. “No if, ands, or buts.”
“Yeah, right. Like that’s going to work. You know–“
Harry had quickly grown tired of Draco’s resistance and placed his own lips against Draco’s, purposely trying to shut him up and convince Draco that he was serious. They grabbed at each other’s hair and furiously tugged at each other’s lips. Right now, they were just two boys kissing in the middle of a road. They weren’t damaged. They didn’t have identity crises or problems with getting out of bed. They were just basking in the moment of being two individual people who had finally become one.
Carefully, they parted from each other but still kept their hand linked. Breathing heavily, they placed their foreheads against each other. Each boy had a delicate smile on their lips as they looked into each other’s eyes.
“Let’s go home,” Harry whispered against Draco’s cold lips.
And the other boy complied.