The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)

Ten

Day: 1203; Hour: 5

She sits beside him, and he does not move. She shifts, the wood uncomfortable under her, and brushes her arm against his. He stares at the bottom step of the porch below them, or at the patch of dirt, but she doesn't think he sees anything. It was long minutes or short hours before she heard the sound of his clothes against the porch step, and she met his eyes as his head turns toward her.

Her hands are as cold as his cheeks when she puts them on either side of his face, his lips chapped when she kissed them. He breathes out in a gust of warm air, but he does not kiss her back. She pulls away slightly, meeting the grey of his eyes that match the color of the current cloudy day, and is encouraged with the slight hint of red, of warmth, across his cheekbones.

"Happ--" he begins, but she knows what he means to say, and it is not the time for birthday well-wishes.

"You did the best you could."

It is the wrong thing to say despite that she wouldn't change it if given the chance, and he pulls away from her hands, standing. She turns her head, blinking at his boots as they step out of her sight, before standing and facing him.

"Draco, you're a damn good strategist. There was nothing you could do!"

He whips around, the wind harsh against their frozen skin, and his hair flies up with it. "I could have done everything! Because it was me who wasn't good enough. I failed. I fucked up. I'm not the one who needs to be told everything is fucking all right for that! Tell that to Smitts's family, or Chang lying in fucking hospital right now without her fucking fingers!"

"But it's not your fault! You can't predict what would happen! You did the best with what you had! You were under-informed. It was obviously a bad situation, and you still managed to get four of you out of there alive! Anyone else, and you would all be on your way to the cemetery plots off Kieser Avenue! No one blames you. You can't blame yourself."

He stares at her and shakes his head, stares more and shakes it again before turning and storming into the house. She makes it two steps inside before she hears a door slam shut, and she knew there would be no getting through to him tonight.

Day: 1204; Hour: 10

She had breakfast waiting for him that afternoon when he finally ventured out of the bedroom after he retreated there the night before. She thought it was the smell that has led him to the kitchen instead of back into the room from the bathroom. He is never really one to hide.

"Eggs are all we have." She shrugs and he takes a bit to decide on eating the scrambled eggs left in the pan.

He takes a seat across from her, though she thought he would have left, but he eats in silence and she lets it stay that way.

Later, long after he had left the room and she had done the dishes, she finds him staring out at the woods on the back porch again. He talks about change and controlling his life, and how he never could do either right. How he saw it like the ease of water for some, fluid and seamless, but he was always jilted. She listens and doesn't speak for a very long time.

"It's like plants. How plants need light to grow toward. And I've been winding and winding, but I still can't fucking find it. I don't have anything I'm digging for. Survive the war -- and where will I be after that?"

She steps up beside him when she realizes that this is a question he wouldn't care if she answered or not. She brushes her thumb against his pinky and takes three of his fingertips, ice cold, in her hand. "With the rest of us."

He is quiet, not responding to her touch but not pulling away either. His warmth seeps from his blood, through his skin and into hers, the touch spreading warmth into both their frozen digits.