Put It All On Me (Drarry)

Chapter 2 - 1990

The air was getting warmer by the day, as the school year was nearing an end and two boys gradually approached their tenth birthdays.

"Two digits, that's a big deal," Remus had told Harry, with his usual tired but warm smile.

May was hot and humid on some days. That day was a particularly humid one.

Harry and Draco were sitting on a concrete window ledge, one that belonged to Grimmauld Primary School's old gym. The battered gym was deserted but not yet torn down, their new gymnasium new and shiny, directly on display and entirely visible from the school entrance. The school seemed to still be deciding on what to do with the ancient auditorium, which bid very well for the boys.

It was their little ledge.

Not even Ron, Hermione, or Pansy knew. It was theirs. Their own little spot, where Harry and Draco hung out daily in private, just after the bell sounded, signaling an end of a school day.

Their legs swung lightly, in a gentle rhythm of their own.

"So... Do you want to talk about it?"

Their arms were flush against each other. Harry didn't look up from his dirty trainers.

"I don't know."

About five minutes ago, Blaise Zabini had swaggered up to him, jeering snobbily at Harry, saying that he knew his secret. Why no one ever showed up for him on Mothers' Day events, or why Remus looked nothing like Harry.

He sucker-punched the git.

Harry glanced at his bandaged and bloodied knuckles. He had yet to explain to Remus about a three-day suspension.

"Keep your head low," Remus had started telling him constantly from the start of primary school, since Harry started to really understand how much he hated Zabini. He managed to make it through his fifth year doing so.

But he wasn't the skinny and defenseless kid now. He was doing considerably well at the peewee rugby team (where 'everybody won,' but Harry knew, deep down, that his team won the most) at Grimmauld Primary, and he started putting on a little healthy weight since he started going over to the Weasleys for lunch every Sunday. So he finally snapped.

"Harry?"

Draco held his hand, stroking his thumb. "You know you can trust me, right?"

He had never told anyone about his parents. Not even Draco. None of his friends really knew the real deal, he brushed off the topic awkwardly every time someone brought it up, even children were sensitive enough to know not to push it. Remus did, with Harry's consent, told Mrs. Weasley about the situation, with a side note on not telling her children.

Harry took a deep breath.

"About eight and a half years ago... My mum and dad died in a car crash."

"Oh, Harry," Draco whispered, squeezing his palm.

"I was a year old, in the backseat. Mum's seat hit me, but I survived. It was direct blunt trauma to my eyes and caused optic nerve atrophy. The doctors said I was lucky it only reduced my eyesight and didn't develop into nystagmus. That's why I was prescribed glasses so young.

"It wasn't a normal car crash. Mum and Dad were detectives. They tracked down a serial killer who called himself Voldemort and threw him in jail. Two of his followers hunted them down for revenge and followed us on Halloween. They slammed on their gas and started speeding forward. The only way to not be squashed by them was to accelerate. They purposely chased them to a forked road they knew and swerved, driving us to slam into a brick wall they set up."

At that point, Harry was shaking. Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he was trembling with overwhelming sadness and fury. Draco squeezed his hand tight.

"Worst of it all... My legal godfather helped Voldemort's followers kill my parents. The followers managed to flee but they caught my godfather. The police wouldn't have caught him if it weren't for my parents' friend Peter.

"Moony has taken over ever since. Occasionally Wormy— that's Peter— comes by for a bit. He never stays long, though. Our cottage gives him the jitters." Harry drew a shaky breath. "Bless that little guy."

"Moony said Mum and Dad were taking me trick-or-treating for the first time."

Draco offered Harry a Kleenex and he took it gratefully. His tears were no longer coming in fat wads, more like two lines of little streams.

"Is that why you never go trick-or-treating with me?" Draco asked softly.

"Yeah," Harry said thickly, blowing his nose, "I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh, there's nothing to be sorry about. Come here."

Draco gently cradled Harry's head in his arms, inviting Harry to lean on his chest as he sniffled and sobbed.

"There, there... Put it all on me."