Work Text:
Enemies:
Obession.
It is a word his friends often use
teasing
rebuking
offending.
“You are obsessed with him” they cry
laughing and cajoling
looking at him as if they know the reason why.
How could they know
though
when not even he knows.
They call it obsession
but not he.
No not he.
What he feels isn’t obsession.
The impulse to read every article
every interview every speech every blah blah blah
“Oh isn’t Harry Potter so wise, so clever, so strong so brave”
Like he had a choice.
Like either of them ever had a choice.
To be brave
To be weak
To be …
To be anything other than what they were.
He the Hero
and he, Draco, the enemy.
No what drives him isn’t obsession.
It is a burning deep within him
hot and furious.
Why?
Why?
Why did he get to be the hero?
Why did Draco have to be the bad guy?
They walk the streets
Side
by
Side
Almost.
The stares are palpable.
Everybody always stares.
at Potter
at Draco
It is almost
identical.
Except of course it is not.
“There he goes” they whisper
irreverent, hushed, awed.
Though he slinks through the crowd
Head bowed
Hoping they won’t see him
Won’t notice.
But Draco does.
He sees what they do not.
He sees Harry Potter the way no one else does.
Not the “hero”
But the boy
Still too small for the clothes he wears
Still too small for the burdens he bears.
They pass by
shoulders almost touching
eyes catching
Grey into Green
And the whispers echo.
“There he goes”
sneering, angry, disgusted.
Though Draco stalks through the crowd.
unwilling to be cowed.
Hoping they won’t see
won’t notice
the shame creeping underneath.
They do not see Draco.
But Potter does.
Harry Potter meets his gaze
as their shoulders graze
And he sees
And oh
Draco thinks he will never stop loathing Harry Potter
~~
To friends:
The change comes as the seasons do
slow and immeasurable
unrelenting.
Turning as the moons turn
the world turns
ever onwards
ever changing
whether you want it to or not.
The change comes
first
with Quidditch.
Of course it does.
Though neither of them play
not anymore.
Draco watches his friends
twisting and turning
through the sky.
Like a crow on the wind
a crow blindsided by a falcon
a Harpy
ginger haired and ginger tempered.
She cuts across Blaise’s path and
Draco burns
Anger, hot and furious, burns
For she is part of him.
Potter.
Except…
She is not his anymore.
She teases Blaise, light and friendly,
challenging,
almost.
But then
Blaise has always enjoyed a challenge.
Potter is there, of course, as Potter always is
at the periphery of Draco’s —
thoughts
— vision.
Blaise slings an arm around Potter
dragging him into the circle
conspiratorial and conniving
Potter allows this
though reluctant
wishing to be elsewhere.
Draco knows this
because he
too
wants to be elsewhere.
Still they stay
and Draco is struck by the fact that they are
the same.
They stay
for support
for friendship
for loyalty
Blaise teases.
Potter flushes.
The Harpy Laughs.
The drinks arrive and are drunk.
Thank Salazar for small mercies.
The night repeats
over months
over weeks
over days.
The reasons vary but the people stay the same.
Or rather
they change
together.
While he and Potter do not.
There are no arguments.
No fights.
He and Potter simply
Exist
while their friends laugh and joke around them
forgetting the past
forgetting
the way Draco cannot.
He and Potter, alone, remain the same
Peripheral
Except… together, somehow
They pass by always
shoulders almost touching
eyes catching
Grey into Green
As the world moves on without them.
The world does not see them
stuck in the past
in the memory
in the pain and shame and emptiness of what was
Unable to move on
to let go
to laugh or tease or play or
… be happy
No.
Not happy.
Happiness feels like a betrayal.
Like something he doesn’t yet deserve
and nothing seems to pull him toward it
Nothing except…
Except that impulse
still urging him to read every article
every interview every speech
to listen to every conversation
“Come on Harry, what do you think about it?”
But Potter has already slipped away
incongruous but always noticed.
And Draco slips away after him
to the edge of the crowd —
a crowd he used stalk through
head held high
determined, yet ashamed.
Shame he doesn’t quite feel anymore,
because here
at the edge of the room
unwatched
he somehow doesn’t feel alone.
though his friends don’t understand —
still laugh and call him obsessed
— Potter does.
Harry Potter meets his gaze
as their shoulders graze
And he sees
and oh
Draco wonders how he ever got lucky enough to — finally— befriend Harry Potter
~~
To lovers:
They shake hands.
It is not the first time they have touched
yet it is the first
significant
Moment.
It is the defining moment of change.
Or
of change that they both see
that they both comprehend.
It is a realisation between them
a secret —
that is if everyone else didn’t already know
— shared between passing moments.
Draco is at once eleven years old
Except this time
Potter is the one holding out a hand to hold.
Draco’s throat goes dry
All of a sudden the past disappears
and he is here
right here
with Potter before him
reaching out a hand of hope.
Trembling
Draco reaches back
and steps into the future.
The future is quieter
smaller.
He still has that urge
still tries to read every article
every interview every speech so sparse and few between now
“Where has Harry Potter disappeared to?”
But he doesn’t need articles or interviews or speeches.
Because Potter is still everywhere
if you know where to look.
And Draco does.
He finds
with surprise
that he —
and he alone
—can always find Harry.
Through the years of standing at the edge of the crowd,
growing steadily less ashamed and less cowed
together,
Draco knows all of Harry
his hideouts and hideaways.
He brings him coffee and whiskey
and quiet moments between the loud.
They are no longer in past
But sometimes
the Past still tries to catch them
and in those moments
they need
to slip away.
Out into the dark
into the cold
shoulders almost touching
eyes catching
grey into green.
They stumble through the snow
voices low
breath flowing between
in puffs of intermingled air
cold and bold and holding onto each other.
In the distance their friends laugh
warm and welcoming
not yet noticing
that they are gone.
Out here
together
their laughter is soft
almost bittersweet
Flurries fall.
The moon smiles
and so do they
As they watch the stars and try to be small
to be quiet
to just be
Here.
Together.
Breath mingling between cold lips.
Draco turns with a question and is met with an answer.
Warmth, fire, heat.
Hot and not furious.
A first kiss.
The first of dozens
of hundreds
of thousands of moments shared
Some secret
Many not-so-secret
But this here and now
as they lay back in the snow and stare up at the midnight sky
hands clasped
excited and at once shy
— This first kiss
Oh
This is when he knows
He is not obsessed
Obsession is isn’t big enough
Not for this
for here right now in this moment
pure as the snow they lay upon
this is love.
Harry Potter meets his gaze
as their shoulders graze
And he sees
and oh
Draco thinks he will never stop loving Harry Potter.