Beautiful World ~ 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀

Chapter 31

It started to rain that afternoon, just gentle misty drops, and it sent people scurrying to their homes. Diagon Alley emptied until only those hurrying home from work remained. Draco knew that Harry liked the rain, so he didn't complain too much as they sat on the side of a fountain, a soft hush all around, broken only by the whispering drops of mist.

"Everything looks different," Harry said quietly, glancing around.

Draco tried to see what he was seeing, but it was just an empty street. "How?"

"Like we're the only ones left in the whole world."

For a moment, Draco let his eyes close and thought about what that would be like. To be alone in the world with Harry forever. He smiled a little, though his throat felt tight. It had felt tight all day, actually. Time was going too fast, and it seemed the harder he tried to slow it down, the faster it went.

"Calm down," Harry whispered beside him, and Draco realized that his breathing had sped up as panic threatened.

"I'm alright," he said. Harry studied his eyes doubtfully, and Draco knew he didn't believe him. It was wrong, it wasn't fair. That Draco should be so weak when Harry needed him. Draco reached out and touched his cheek, trailing his finger through the rain there. There was so much he needed to say and he didn't know where to begin. "Aren't you scared?" he asked.

"No," Harry replied simply, but his eyes flickered away and his lips tightened at the lie.

"You're a terrible liar, Harry." Draco tilted his head and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.

"I can't be scared," Harry argued.

Draco knew what it was like to feel as if he did not have the right to be scared. After all, Malfoys never showed fear. "You've got every right to be afraid," he said quietly.

Glancing up, Harry slowly shook his head. "How would it look if I was afraid? If the Boy Who Lived could face Voldemort without fear but quaked at the mere idea of his own death?"

"You're not the fucking Boy Who Lived," Draco snarled, taking Harry's hand. "You're just Harry. My Harry. None of the rest of it matters now, alright? Screw the heroic shit, and screw the Boy Who Lived nonsense. None of it means anything to me and I know it's nothing to you."

"I don't know what to be if I'm not the Boy Who Lived," Harry whispered.

"Just be Harry. You were, before. Before you knew about all of this, this whole wizard business. Just be that Harry."

"That Harry was a little boy locked under the stairs," Harry said fiercely. "I've forgotten him. I never wanted to be him."

Draco bit his lip carefully and studied Harry for a long moment. "It's not so hard."

"What isn't?"

"Learning who you are without thinking about who you're supposed to be."

"And you're the resident expert on that, I suppose?"

Draco wasn't put off by Harry's hostile tone. He smiled and leaned forward, reciting, "A Malfoy Does Not Kiss Other Boys In Public." His voice was very soft and he kissed Harry squarely on the lips before pulling back a tiny bit. "A Malfoy does not shower with others," he continued, smile growing impish. "I already broke that one last night."

"It's different for you," Harry whispered.

"How?"

"Without all your titles, you've still got something. You've still got an identity. I had my identity taken away when I was eleven and I was supplied with a new one. If I grow scared now, I'd be shattering that identity and then I'd have nothing."