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Conversations; Drarry One Shot
Taking another sip of the firewhiskey, Harry thought about nothing.
At least, that's what he was trying to do. He tried to picture a blank canvas instead of all the thoughts running around his head, like his memories were files and they were being tossed everywhere, as if a tornado was inside his head.
He wanted nothing more but for the pain to stop.
He hated it.
He hated everything.
Voldemort.
His parents for leaving him.
His professors.
Most of all, he hated that bloody git Malfoy.
He hated him more than anything. He hated how he fell in love with him, how he lusted for him, how Harry had just been a string wrapped around his finger.
He should have listened to Hermione. She told him Malfoy wasn't good news.
Although, Harry was young and naive, so his heart guided him. Guided him to the living scum that was Draco Malfoy.
He felt sick thinking about him.
Harry took another sip of his firewhiskey, finding the contents of it to be empty.
Without even paying attention, Harry lazily cast a refilling spell. Firewhiskey back in his glass filled to the brim.
Without thinking, he chugged it all down, his vision now becoming blurry. The Gryffindor did this another 3 or 4 times, refilling the glass, drinking it down at once. Harry didn't care anymore.
He didn't care if Voldemort killed him right now.
He didn't care if something terrible happened to his friends.
He didn't care about life in general.
Ever since Malfoy laughed in his face when Harry finally gathered the courage to say the three words he was dying to say the whole time.
It was just a game, Harry was Malfoy's pawn, and he had been destroyed in the most barbaric way possible, emotionally.
His vision was now blurry, and he struggled to stand up straight on his own.
Quite drunk as he was, sounds of footsteps could be heard.
"Who would be up at the astronomy tower this late?" Harry thought.
None the less, he didn't care. He didn't care if it was a prefect. Or a professor. If he got expelled he'd probably be in less pain then he was right now. The footsteps were getting close, until they reached the top of the astronomy tower.
Despite his vision being quite blurry, he saw a head full of sleek platinum blonde hair.
"Malfoy." Harry slurred, but his voice was laced with venom.
The Slytherin smirked.
"What are you doing here Potter?" He asked.
Harry leaned on something in the process of attempting to stand up. Forgetting he was in a tower with nothing to lean on, his arm slipped and he almost fell to his death. Almost. The taller boy before him grabbed his arm to stop him from falling. Suddenly his eyes filled with concern. He never wanted to hurt Harry. He was angry at himself for feeling this way.
So he thought hurting the other boy would get rid of his feelings. He was so very wrong, and his plan backfired. That night when Harry said 3 meaningful words, Malfoy wanted to wrap his arms around him and call him his forever. Instead, he merely laughed. Remembering the look in scar faced boy's eyes. Hurt.
Seeing Harry in this state made him blame himself even more.
"What do you want Malfoy?" Harry slurred, swaying side to side.
"What have you been doing to yourself." He asked, his words filling with worry and concern.
He hadn't seen Harry around much recently. Not in classes, or in the Great Hall, not even the Quidditch field. Could this be all Harry was doing anymore? Drinking his life away?
Pulling him out of his thoughts, Harry tried to move away from his grasp.
"Let me go Malfoy. I'm f-fine." He argued, dragging out the "i".
Malfoy shook his head, although he wasn't sure Harry could see it because of his drunken state. "No you're not Harry. You're too hammered to go back down. Merlin's beard if I didn't grasp your arm you would have been dead by now."
"Maybe I wouldn't mind being dead." Harry admitted.
This caught Malfoy off guard. Perfect Potter, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, wanted to die? Perhaps he misheard Potter. Maybe he said something else. Bread? Fed? Red? A bed?
"No Malfoy, you didn't hear me wrong."
Had he been talking out loud?
Many thoughts were racing around his head, and he was too in shock to reply.
The drunken boy seemed to read his expression (although it was quite hard to concentrate when you were seeing 4 of everything).
"Drunk mind, sober thoughts they say." Harry spoke softly, partially scared Malfoy would
A) Laugh at him
B) Kill/Hex him
C) Tell someone
But Malfoy didn't do any of those. He said something that caught Harry by surprise.
"Is that why you haven't been seen around school." Harry just nodded, wishing to be alone for the time being.
It was a simple straightforward answer to a simple straightforward question.
Malfoy sat there in silence.
Not knowing what to do, Harry looked everywhere except at the 6th year who sat in front of him. His eyes landed on his half full glass of firewhiskey. Without a second thought, he refilled the glass to the brim by muttering a simple spell.
He was about to grab the glass, when suddenly a hand stopped him.
"Please. Please don't." The boy in front of him begged. Harry didn't care. Malfoy hurt him. Why would he be telling Harry to stop drinking. He pushed his hand away and grabbed the glass, forcing the warm liquid down his throat. He refilled it so fast Malfoy didn't have time to comprehend what was happening.
After what seemed like ages, Harry set down the empty glass. Malfoy looked up at the boy with the glasses. He seemed at peace, so care free. Merlin knows how many glasses he had chugged. It pained him. It ate away at his insides. How he could only feel happy when he was drunk. Without warning, Harry stood up and started giggling. "Bloody hell Potter. Why is your giggle so damn cute." Malfoy thought. He didn't dare say that sort of thing out loud.
Malfoy noticed it was curfew. He should be back by now. Although he couldn't keep Potter here alone, especially not in this state.
"Come with me Potter." The shorter boy laughed. It was beautiful, like it could bring back dead flowers, like the angels themselves constructed Harry's perfect laugh. Pitch by pitch. "Why should I?" The perfect boy asked innocently. "Because you're too drunk to function properly. That's why."
Harry simply laughed. "I do this all the time!" He smiled. Malfoy sighed. "Why, why do you do it Harry."
The Gryffindor winced at the use of his first name. Still, he was too drunk to process anything. That this was Draco Malfoy. The one person who broke his heart. Who ripped it out of his chest and stomped on it. Who toyed with him and his emotions.
"You," was Harry's answer, "You're the reason I do this Draco." Harry suddenly sounded strangely sober.
Malfoy's eyes widened.
That was the first time Harry had used his first name in a long time. But the boy didn't stop there.
"You toyed with me. You pretended to be in love with me, you kissed me for Merlin's sake and I kissed you back! But as soon as I try to show affection, you laugh in my face! You've always laughed in my face. I told you things not even Ron and Hermione knew! I trusted you and you decide to use them against me? My parents death? My godfather dying by your aunt? It was all just a plan! To make me spill, make me weaker." Harry's words were laced with venom, but suddenly turned soft and quiet, like a fearful child.
"Well look at me now. Is this what you wanted? For me to be sitting on top of the astronomy tower, getting drunk off my arse every night? Wishing I was dead? Wishing that one of these times, I'd get drunk and unbalanced enough that I 'fall' off the astronomy tower and die?" Malfoy was on the verge of tears.
The boy he loved, the boy he admired, was now damaged. His eyes were no longer emerald green, they were more of a dark gray. His clothes were baggier and his ribs were noticeable, as if he was living on firewhiskey only. What had he done? His inner Slytherin had came in and ruined his chances. He cursed himself for being born into such a horrid family. Cursed the sorting hat for putting him in Slytherin.
He didn't even notice Harry pouring two more glasses of that drink that he had hated so much now, and scarfing them down like it was normal. Like Harry had done it a million times before. He had. That's what hurt. He had done it a million times before. All because of him. This time as soon as Harry placed down the empty glass, he made it disappear into thin air. Harry's eyes widened. "Bring. It. Back." He growled, clenching his teeth.
"No." Malfoy said determinated.
Harry stared at him, those once green eyes now dull and gray.
He pulled out his wand, Malfoy expected a hex, so he pulled out his. "Accio glass." Harry simply muttered.
Nothing came. Harry grimaced at Malfoy. "You don't need more anyway. You were already drunk." He said, trying to break the silence.
Harry growled. "Yea well maybe I have a high alcohol tolerance and I become sober faster. Ever think of that you bloody git?"
Malfoy didn't expect insults, but he didn't send one back. He couldn't. Not after seeing what he'd done to the poor boy.
"Please don't." Malfoy begged.
Harry looked at him with confusion. "Please don't die."
Harry simply rolled his eyes.
"I care about you."
Harry laughed. He found that impossible to believe. The boy who had hurt him.. cared? The chances of Malfoy caring about him were as high as the chances of Voldemort not wanting to kill Harry anymore.
Draco sighed. They stayed silent, Malfoy sitting crosslegged, resting his chin on his hands.
Harry, looking anywhere except at the scum in front of him, crossing his arms, sitting with one leg on top of the other.
Nobody spoke.
What was Malfoy supposed to say? "Im really sorry I did that to you. I was just stupid and trying to get rid of my emotions because I had a crush on you, and I tried to get rid of my feelings. Can we make out now?" Pathetic.
After a while of silence, Harry gathered his things and left, not taking a second glance at Malfoy. The sleek haired boy felt somewhat hurt. He decided it was time that he left the tower too.
A week. It had been a week since anybody saw Harry. The professors were starting to worry, the students began to gossip. Anxious to receive answers, Draco went up to the astronomy tower hoping Harry was there. Unfortunately, he wasn't. In his place was 4 letters. Along with an empty glass of firewhiskey.
He looked at the letters.
One was adressed to Hermione.
Another to Ron.
The third to Professor Dumbledore.
And the final one to him.
"Where could Harry be?" He thought. His heart was now racing, and his mind thinking of the worst scenario possible. Malfoy looked at the empty glass. There was something written on the bottom of the cup. "I'm sorry."
It was written in Harry's handwriting. He looked over the edge of the astronomy tower and saw a sight he never wanted to see. Harry Potter, the love of his life, dead. He couldn't stop himself. He cried.
Maybe he's not dead. Maybe Madam Pomfrey can heal him. He was about to go down to call Dumbledore, when he heard many footsteps coming up the stairs. Malfoy stood there, with red puffy eyes, ragged breathing, and clutching the four letters in a shaking hand. "Mister Malfoy?" A familiar voice asked. Tears were in his eyes, making his vision blurry. He blinked them away. Seeing Professor McGonogall looking at him with a worried expression. Behind her were Professor Snape, Madam Pomfrey, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore himself. "What's wrong?" Professor McGonogall asked him.
He was unable to speak, instead he pointed a shaky finger to the edge, where Harry's body lay on the ground. They all moved forward to see what he was pointing at. Hermione instantly broke down in tears and had to hold onto Ron. The rest gasped. Dumbledore was the first to speak. "Such a tragedy. A brilliant young boy, he was." He sighed.
"Headm-master." Draco stuttered.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I-I found these." Malfoy handed him the letters, his hand still shaking. He handed Hermione the letter which was adressed to her, he handed Ron his letter, and handed Draco his letter.
All students were called to the Great Hall to be told the news. Everybody went. Everybody except Draco. He stayed in his dorm alone. His body violently shaking. The love of his life was dead. And it was all his fault. He saw the letter and picked it up. He gently tore at the envelope, because it was one of the only things of Harry's he had left.
Dear Draco,
I'm sorry for doing this. You probably don't even care. I don't even know why im writing this letter. Maybe it's that small part of my mind trying to tell me that you care. But that's just false hope. Remember that time, we met up in the forest and kissed and cuddled all night?
Or that one time where I tugged you into the lake and you complained because I messed up your hair?
Back then, everything was fine, not like now, not like when you laughed at my face. I should have known you didn't care.
Draco wanted to cry. He wanted Harry to come back to life so he could scream at him that he did care then make out till their lips were swollen. The world was cruel. No. Draco was cruel. It was all his fault. But he had to keep reading on.
Hermione always had a bad feeling about you. I told her i was with you, I was in love with you and I couldn't stop thinking about the slytherin boy that drove me crazy. She listened, she understood, she knew. Me? I was just in love. You used me as a pawn, manipulated me, weakened me, now I am nothing more than a memory. You can't write back to me, because I'm dead. There's no spell to bring back the dead. There's no spell that would ever make me forgive you.
Goodbye, Draco Malfoy aka the boy I was in love with.
Was.
Was in love with.
Draco hated how he had to use past tense when talking about Harry.
He hated himself for not telling Harry how he really felt.
He hated himself for laughing at him.
He hated everything.
All he could do was go to the graveyard and sit by his grave. It was covered in flowers and old belongings, notes passed in class and his favorite sweets, and his broomstick was propped along his tombstone. He visited Harry's grave as often as he could. Just talking to him about anything and everything. Malfoy pretended Harry was talking to him, laughing. In reality, Malfoy was breaking, he felt so lost without Harry. And he told him that. He told him everything.
They were just in two different worlds. One in the world of the Living,
and one in the world of the Dead.
They were just having conversations.