Beautiful World ~ 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀

Chapter 32

He wasn't letting go, Draco decided. His arm was going numb, his back was cramping up, but he wouldn't ever let go. Harry was sleeping, leaning against Draco, and Draco, for all the world, could not dream of letting go.

He checked his watch and whispered, "Nearly time, Harry," though Harry didn't stir. Draco counted down to his birthday alone, quietly, and when his watch showed midnight, he tightened his arms around Harry's shoulders and buried his face in his hair.

"Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry slept on, and after a cautious moment, Draco lifted his head, closing his eyes and listening carefully. He was still breathing, and the relief was sharp. But then, Harry had said that the spell would wear off at sunrise, and it was still dark. Still, it seemed a sort of victory, that it was officially July 31st and Harry was still breathing.

Hours passed, and Draco didn't move. He didn't know what he was supposed to be thinking about, feeling, doing with his hands. So he stayed perfectly still and didn't think about anything, except the stars and the moon and the dark London skyline.

When it got to be too painful, he gently shifted Harry off of his lap and onto the roof. With that movement came a shuddering sort of energy, and Draco began prowling around the roof, thinking now more than ever before, out loud.

"He's not going to die. What if he dies? He can't die, I refuse to think all this has been for nothing..."

But then, it hadn't been for nothing. If Harry left him and Draco had to spend the rest of his life alone, he couldn't honestly say that this last little while hadn't affected him. Hadn't given him the courage to walk away from everything he'd been afraid of. He'd changed. No one could possibly go through something like this without being changed. Whether or not it lasted forever was negligible when he considered that. He was stronger than ever and brighter too, like wells of energy had been burst open inside of him. He'd been sheltered and scared before and now he was strong and felt like he could maybe even be brave, if the situation demanded it. After all, courage held by those with no other choice than to be brave is not a characteristic they can claim as their own but one they borrow when the situation demands it. And there was no one in the world Draco would rather borrow his courage from.

It was strange, very strange, that he should discover infinite sources of strength inside himself now, when he was feeling so weak, so helpless. When faced with insurmountable pain and terror, real terror at something that he couldn't believe would come to pass...

He remembered before this all had begun. Thinking about the difference between fear and worry. That you feared what you thought would come true and that worry was softer because you worried about things that couldn't possibly happen. But Harry couldn't possibly die. It just wasn't bearable. And yet, Draco had never been so afraid.

There was a tinge of blue in the sky, and Draco cocked his head and watched it for a moment. The eastern horizon was slowly filling with colour. He glanced at Harry, pale, sleeping, and very still in the shadow of the chimney.

He took a hesitant step towards him, wanting to wake him, to touch him, to feel him breathe.

Two futures stretched ahead of him in the rising of the sun. One, full of burning funeral pyres and watching winter gardens bloom alone. The other, laughing and smiling and never ever letting go of Harry's hand for fear that he'd slip away but knowing that, when the time came, he'd take Draco with him. Not yet, not yet. Not now.

"Harry?" he called softly, but Harry didn't move. Biting his lip consideringly, Draco glanced once more at the rising sun. Birds were beginning to sing softly, and a misty sort of light was beginning to fall over the skyline.