sparks~drarry

Watching the Stars

Description: every good Drarry book has a breakup oneshot. Here's mine. Harry and Draco have dated for a year, in secret, of course. However, when Draco's sexuality threatens to be revealed to his family, he has to take action.

Warnings: homophobic slurs

Song: Where's My Love by SYML

Notes: sorry, that it's short and.... well... you'll see

Length: 900 words

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Harry's POV

"-don't you understand, Harry, that I'm not aloud to be a fag?" Draco seethed, his face scarlet and his teeth bared. "I'm not like you. I can't come out and have a bunch of people praise my bravery. Do you know what would happen if my father found out about us? He would kill me!" His voice became shrill.

I backed away slowly, my eyes burning with unshed tears as I felt my back hit the cold, stone walls of his room. "Darling, I-"

"Don't call me that!" Suddenly, his moon white hand was a blur, and my cheek burned with a pain that felt of pins and needles. I stood there, stunned, then slowly brought my hand to my blazing cheekbone. Draco didn't look apologetic.

We both stared at each other in silence for a tense moment. He shifted, as if preparing to fight me, and I was about ready to do the same.

"No, I don't understand," I said quietly, and his low gaze whipped to my face. His eyes smoldered. "Do you know why I don't understand? Because we could protect you. Because-"

"You are so stupid," he breathed. "So, so idiotic."

"I'm not!" I shouted, balling my fists. "Do you know what I think the real reason for your outbreak is? You can't deal with commitment! You hate the idea of not being able to screw whomever you like, something I'm sure you did during these last months, and you hate having to date somebody who isn't as perfect and rich and bigoted as you." I was on a roll, and I didn't have any interest in stopping. "You're jealous of me too, undoubtedly. You're daddy's boy, always getting second place and silver medals, never, ever being able to impress him. But guess what? I'm Dumbledore's golden boy, his favorite, and you just can't deal with that!"

Tears began to roll down his furious face. "You asshole! You have no idea what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"What always being second is like? What always losing to you is like?"

"Yes, I do!"

"Really, because I don't think so."

"For eleven years I came in last, I was beat and jeered at, even now, during the summers only, thank Merlin."

"Only during the summers, now! For me, it's been my whole life, you imbecile!" By that time, the tears in his throat caused his words to be muffled, as if I was hearing them through a wall. His voice then lowered. "Of course I'm jealous of you, H-Harry. And I wish I could commit to you. I wish that every night, I could bring you home a velvet rose and make love to you on the leather sofa we would have in our living room. I would make you coffee with extra sugar, like you like it, every morning, and then we'd both travel to Hogwarts on the train once again to work as its DADA and potions professors. I wish that I could sneak into our child's common room every night just to tuck them in and give them a kiss, then hide with you inside a broom closet until Neville finds us. You think I haven't thought this out? You think I haven't wished this, that I have just used you for sex. I love you, Harry Potter, even if you say things you don't mean and always beat me in Quidditch matches because I'm too busy staring at your ass through your uniform to notice the Snitch practically on my nose."

I couldn't breathe. The tears running down my face burned, and I wiped them away, trying to muster up the anger I felt before. But I couldn't. Instead, I twisted my lips into a broken smile.

"And when we'd retire, we'd travel to Scandinavia, just like you always said you wanted, so we could see that one dragon I can't remember the name of. We'd visit our child at their dream job in London and then move to California, where we'd spend our days making love in the sand on our private beach and visiting famous movie stars in their beach houses and going to hole-in-the-wall restaurants that only exist in movies."

His hands were cold against my face, but they ignited a painful, fire hot feeling in the pit of my stomach. For that moment, we kissed desperately, as if this were the end. And it was. Too soon, he pulled away, his face once more in that horrible stone cold expression.

"Goodbye, Potter," he said with a curt nod, then turned on his heel and left the room. Even though he looked icy, I recognized the way his voice wavered and the way his hands had quivered as he removed them from my face. Too numb to cry, I tilted my head towards the window, and watched the stars.