every scrap of you (you left them all to me)

Chapter 4

𝄞 what died, didn't stay dead 𝄞

*

The fields surrounding Ron's house are divine during late spring. Rolling hills stretch endlessly, and the grassy footpaths are hugged by a vibrant array of wildflowers.

Harry loves the amber skies, and would appreciate the beautiful scenery more if his heart wasn't split in half. Two weeks of all research and no Draco, have left him hopeless and starved, his body feeling like it's weighted to the ground. He blames the redness of his eyes on his non-existent hayfever as he plucks the flowers from passing hedgerow, picking off the petals one by one.

"So that's it? You're not buggering each other anymore?" Ron asks, shakily, due to the force with which his dog—a border collie named Bruno—is dragging him forward on his lead.

"It was more than just shagging," Harry says. "Draco, he was... he fell in love."

"Right. And him being in love is a total trainwreck 'cause of this curse thing?"

"A blood curse, passed through generations of the Malfoy family."

Bruno comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of dandelions, sniffing them intently as Ron gives Harry a pitiful look. "Blimey."

"Yeah." Harry nods, gazing out at the distant view until his eyes go unfocused. "The curse sits idle inside of him and will only be triggered if he strays from the ancestral values."

"Like marrying pure-bloods and all that bollocks?"

Harry scuffs the dirt. "Exactly."

"Is he sick?"

"Not really. It's... picking away at him slowly, I guess?" Harry grimaces.

"So now you're both just—"

"Taking some time apart," Harry says. "It just felt like the logical thing to do, and Draco's probably right. Maybe distance will ease the curse, give him more time to find a proper cure, you know?"

Ron nods, patting Harry on the shoulder before he's tugged away again by a boundless Bruno. Harry follows behind. He can feel his hands getting twitchy, running them through his untamed hair.

"Have you got a smoke on you?"

Ron gives a helpless smile. "Sorry, mate. 'Mione would go mental if I had that shit on me anymore. She'd go off on you, too."

"Yeah, I know." Harry rolls his eyes, falling into step with Ron. He plucks a wildflower from the shrubbery, tears it into shreds. "Maybe Draco will fall out of love with me and then... problem solved, I guess."

"Is that really what you want?" Ron asks. "I mean, it could work, or, you could just be wasting what little time you have left together. I mean, Draco's gonna spend it all pining for you, which'll probably infuriate the curse more, therefore the curse steals more time because it doesn't want Draco loving you and so on..." He makes a small looping gesture with his hands. "You catch my drift?" He reaches up to brush a long-hanging branch. The leaves sway overhead.

"I guess so."

"Look, mate, at the end of the day, if someone told me my moments with Hermione were futile, I'd make sure every last moment was spent with her, loving her, making it count, you know?"

"Well what else am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," Ron says, matter-of-factly. "All I'm saying is, if you're already driving yourself mad searching for a cure for this thing, you might as well drive each other mad at the same time."