Title: Beautiful World, Chapter 1
Author:
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Draco is afraid of living and Harry is afraid of dying, but sometimes the choice isn't offered. Draco's got to learn what it is to really live, while showing Harry how beautiful the world really is when you're not too scared to see it.
Author's Notes: I wasn't going to do another H/D, but this one sort of tackled me while I was working on other things. It was meant to be a one shot, but turned into something longer. It's not like I have a choice in these things. Anyway, dedicated to my betas, with much love and worshipping.
While he was sleeping, Harry Potter decided to die. It wasn't a conscious decision so much as the little boy who lived deep inside his inner most self, who had curled up there with a rather bedraggled blankie and an old teddy bear long ago, closing his tired green eyes and letting go. He'd been living there, deep inside Harry's soul, since the first day his uncle had closed the door of the cupboard on Little Harry's bright little boy face, casting his brilliant green eyes in shadow. Not an imaginary friend, or even an imaginary part of himself, but all those secret dreams and wishes of childhood that Harry hadn't ever admitted out loud (Christmases and candy floss and puppies and ponies and bikes with training wheels). They had to go somewhere, after all, and they had; deep inside where they burned with the faith and hope of a child with an unbreakable spirit.
And then, sometime during Harry's fifth year, the bubble broke, his heart broke, his spirit faltered, and he decided to die.
He woke up that morning and didn't even notice anything had changed, at first. His eyes opened and the ceiling looked the same in the hazy, predawn light. Rolling over, he fought with the covers that had tangled around his legs until his bare feet hit the cold stone floor and he shivered at the contact. He was the first one up, he always was, and Harry mechanically went about gathering up his things and making his way down the stairs to the Gryffindor Boys Bathroom, his glasses still clutched in his hands. After all, there was no point in putting them on until there was something that needed to be seen, and he knew the way to the bathroom in the dark. He dropped his towel and clothing on the floor, turned on the shower, took off his pajamas, and stepped under the hot stream of water.
It felt good, as it always did. It eased away any aches and knots that had developed in his muscles, it slicked down his wild hair, it disguised any tears that might have been forced from his sleepy eyes.
Minutes later, he stepped from the shower and into the steamy bathroom, pushing his dripping hair back out of his eyes and wrapping the towel around his waist tightly. He didn't bother to towel off, he rarely did. He liked feeling the water running down his body, the way the little streams moved over his skin and his muscles, dripped from his hair and off the end of his nose.
His glasses were by the sink and he put them on, wiping the steam from them with his fingertips, glancing up and squinting through the mist at the mirror, which was covered in a thick fog. He wiped it with his fist, and then... Then Harry knew that something inside him had changed.
He stared for a long, long while at the alien face that stared blankly back at him. It was still his nose, his mouth, his scar. Still his teeth and his ears and his skin. But at the same time, it was like someone else had crawled inside of them all, was working his jaw muscles, his tongue. They all seemed to move without his input. But even that was not what held Harry transfixed.
It was his eyes. They were different. Still huge, still framed by his glasses, still green with lighter flecks near the irises. But they were...flat. Empty.
Something inside Harry had died. Some light that had been bright, had glittered, and had started to fade sometime around the end of his fourth year. And now it was gone.
