It Ended With Our Song

Changes

March 2002

Draco stood with cold tap water running over the slight burns on his arm.

His other hand was gripping the counter so tightly that it had turned white.

He felt like he was going to puke.

Harry Potter was sitting at his kitchen table.

The boy hadn't given Draco as much as a glance.

Instead he told some story of travelling the muggle way to Costa Rica and getting caught up in random gang business.

Though the words just passed through Draco, instead his eyes were surveying the boy.

He still dressed the same, though he wasn't sure whether baggy jeans and a navy pullover were a fashion choice or a poor mistake in the hot weather. 

His eyes were the same shade of green and his hair and glasses still lay messily but he had grown out stubble along his jaw.

"I hope I'm not intruding, I didn't know where to go and this was the only address I knew."

"No of course not dear," Narcissa responded sweetly.

Draco felt bile in his throat, he couldn't comprehend it. He stormed away without turning the tap off, hurrying to the bathroom and slamming the door.

He sunk down against the shower door and let his head fall into his hands.

"Draco," Narcissa voice came from the doorway, as she stepped inside and closed it behind her.

She muttered a silencing spell, pointing her wand at the door, before approaching her son any further.

"Why's he here," Draco groaned into his hands, "What gives him the right to show up after three years. No letters, not a word and he thinks he can just-."

Narcissa knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his knee, "It's not fair," She spoke smoothly.

"Exactly," Draco snapped, "It's not fair."

Narcissa nodded, watching her son with worried eyes.

"You're agreeing with me now and yet you're the one who said he could stay," Draco stuttered in exasperation.

Narcissa sighed, "I understand he hurt you Draco but he obviously has no where to go. Have you seen how skinny he looks, he's been wandering around Costa Rica with the clothes on his back for a good month or so, how am i meant to turn the boy away, he'll starve to death or get himself killed."

"Let him," Draco yelled, "he deserves it."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows and gave Draco a disapproving look, "Draco you are one of the strongest people I have met and over the past three years you've been incredibly brave, but dear Merlin, I never want to hear you wish death on anyone, that's not the son I raised."

Draco didn't answer.

"This is technically his house," She continued, "I have no right to turn down protection to a struggling boy no matter how bad of a person he may be," Narcissa continued.

"You're letting him stay," Draco laughed in shock.

"Yes I am and I'm asking you to be strong for a few moments longer."

Draco shook his head in disbelieve and scoffed before pushing himself up to his feet.

"Draco," Narcissa called our as he approached the door.

He turned, his hand on the doorknob and his jaw set.

"I love you," She spoke softly.

Draco turned, "I'm going to the beach."

-

Draco changed into an open shirt and a pair of swimming trunks. He ran a hand through his hair, letting it fall back to its natural curls.

"Get it together," he muttered to himself.

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, as he walked out, his hands clasped around a cup of coffee.

Narcissa was sitting next to him, though they both paused from their quiet conversation.

He could feel Harry's eyes tracking his every movement, scorching his skin and yet he didn't falter in his step, he didn't even bother with a glance in their direction.

Instead he plastered on his usual Malfoy stone face, one he hadn't worn in years, but alas it came back as easily as it used to.

"Draco," Narcissa voice was quiet but firm and Draco knew it all to well. He didn't really have an option but to turn.

She tilted her head towards Harry and Draco scoffed but turned to face him anyway.

He held out his hand, "Draco Malfoy, great to meet you," he spat, his tone flowing with sarcasm.

Harry took his hand cautiously and shook it.

He was hyper aware of everything in the next few seconds. Harry's skin against his, their eyes locked. The rough skin of his palms and the exact moment he squeezed Draco's hand, the emotion in his eyes untraceable. Though most of all it was the cold metal ring cutting into his finger, the one he given Harry years ago. His own was buried deep in a drawer, he had tried multiple times to throw it away but was never able to finish the job.

He pulled his hand away, wiping it on his top before turning again.

His eyes stayed trained on the door until he reached it, pulling it open and letting it slam shut behind him.

His legs carried him quickly to the edge of the forest path and through it he began to run. His feet carried him down the sloping dirt track, dodging past logs and rocks.

He didn't stop until his feet hit the sunlit white sand. A deep breath fell from his lungs.

He threw off his shirt and continued down to the water. Water rippled past his ankles as he dived beneath the waves, the world seemed to still for the few moments before he rose for air. He could almost convince himself that it was all a dream.

He only broke the surface when his lungs began to ache, letting the sun trickle down his face as he gasped for air.

He was completely and utterly alone, there was one path to the small cove and it was on his property. It was freedom.

When his legs and arms began to ache he swam back to shore, letting the waves push him onto the sand. He lay, his ankles still in the water and his body spread out on dry land. The heat of the sun beat down on him and he covered his eyes with his hands to block out the bright blue skies. 

He had no clue how long he spent on the sand but eventually the shadows of the palm tree lengthened and threw shade over him.

When he arrived in the house it was dark and silent. There was a bowl of food on the counter but he walked past it.

As he approached his room he paused outside Harry's old room, the one next to his. Light was pouring out from underneath the door.

Draco forced himself to keep moving past.

He struggled to sleep that night. In the early hours of the morning his sat, with his knees pulled to his chest in the middle of his bed, oblivious to the fact that the boy in the other room was doing the exact same thing.