sweetener; drarry

13; words unspoken

TRACK 13
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow
The Shirelles

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Draco's kiss was like a breath of fresh air. It was the missing piece of a puzzle that Harry had spent far too long on, an amalgamation of everything the boy didn't even know he wanted. It was cold, but not callous. Frigid and yet so full of emotion that Harry felt rather taken aback. It was almost as if the five years of hatred and teasing shared between the pair had been condensed into one fleeting moment of bliss. Draco's kiss was exactly that. His. It belonged to the platinum blond in every sense of the phrase.

Harry almost felt as though he was trespassing on ancient runes; something so forgotten and unkempt that it was dangerous. That one wrong move would set off a trap and he'd be flattened under a rock or penetrated by thousands of arrowheads.

Draco was the first to pull away, cheeks surprisingly pale despite the remorseful glint in his eyes. Harry winced at how red his own face must be, and at how expressionless Draco's features were. It angered him. Why wasn't the blond speaking?
"I shouldn't have done that—" Draco began, pulling away just as Harry grabbed his bicep. What Potter felt shook him to his core, made his eyes widen in a way that Draco couldn't help but mimic. Why was his arm so thin? It was repulsive, barely thick enough to be considered healthy for an infant.
"Have you eaten today?" Harry knew he'd said the wrong thing as soon as it rushed out his mouth. Draco's eyes narrowed to thin slits and he wrenched his arm away.
"Like you care." He spat, sending a glare up and down Harry which was meant to intimidate him.
"Of course I care!" Harry wasn't aware that he was shouting until he saw Draco wince away from him, hands raised as if he was expecting something to be thrown. "Why are you...I-" Harry was at a complete loss for words. What could he say that wouldn't be twisted and churned out into something it had never intended to be?
"This was a mistake," Draco began, fixing his robes and brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you tell anyone and I'll force you to drink rat poison." The blond snarled, shoulders hunched in such a way that he closely resembled a bird when their feathers were ruffled.

Starting for the door, eyes ablaze and steam positively fuming from his ears, Draco swung his satchel up and over one shoulder, opening the door a crack. Turning his head round whilst keeping his body forward, he stared into Harry's eyes with the utmost intent.
"And everything I said, about my mother and father, if you so much as think to tell anyone, I swear to Merlin I'll—"
"Okay, my lips are sealed." Harry held his hands up in defeat, incapable of hiding the confusion laced in his eyebrows and concern masking his mouth. Draco lingered for a second longer, possibly debating whether or not Harry would keep his word, before swallowing hard and exiting the room with a loud slam!

Harry felt many things long after Draco had departed so abruptly. Confusion was one of the vast selection. He had been caught wanking by the very boy he was daydreaming about, thrown into a passionate argument just seconds after, kissed and then deserted all in the span of, at most, ten minutes.

An extensive range of words could be used to describe Draco Malfoy; complicated little prick were but a few.

Harry thought back to when he had gripped the blond's arm and a sour taste embedded itself in his mouth. A sense of pity resided in him, lined with the deepest remorse. Was this Draco's parents doing? A stupid question, really. It could be no one else. That same, overbearing wave of anger that seemed to follow him endlessly now crashed down on him, flooding his senses with nothing but pure hatred for Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They were the scum of the Earth, worse than Severus Snape and a close second to Voldemort. They had raised a son for sixteen years, filling his head with ample lies of blood purity and self-loathing. All this time, the blond had been silently brooding. Nobody knew anything about this, nobody even thought to ask. How could Harry have been so blind as to completely ignore the obvious signs of self destruction? Over the course of Draco's years at Hogwarts, Harry had noticed that the blond's appearance had deteriorated gradually each year. His hair slowly became longer and longer, unkempt and messy. The dark circles under his eyes had done nothing but expand and grow darker still. His school uniform had also clearly been neglected, his tie loose around his neck and his collar hardly buttoned. His clothes were too big for him, the same uniform that had once fit him snugly in Third Year. His shirt no longer hugged his slim, yet still healthy looking, frame and his pants would hardly even sit on his hips. They were both like oversized potato sacks on him.

Harry had been standing in the small room, staring out at the closed door, for the best part of half an hour. The bell, signalling his fifth and final lesson of the day, had already rung — muffled by the humid closet — and the brunet showed no signs of moving. He clenched and unclenched his fists, grinding his teeth together with a foggy haze over his eyes. This wasn't fair. This was absolutely, one hundred percent not fair.

He should not have let himself be persuaded by others that Draco was a drama queen, Death Eater all those months ago. He was stupid to believe the gossip spread by other students, they were cruel and grasping for any sort of action. Either way, he knew the truth now — or a certain version of it at least — and he would not be swayed. His God forsaken hero complex had already kicked into superdrive. He was going to help Draco, he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

an; ew this is short and shit but i have serious writer's block eeee. y'all should follow my twitter @unhappyklaus we have fun over there i'm a lot more active