The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Fear

March 16th 1997

Song Recommendation: Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie

Harper leaned heavily on the railing of the small balconet, her head completely drooped over so her auburn hair draped like a curtain. The cool night air brushed against the back of her neck, soothing her throbbing skull. Draco leant back beside her, elbows balanced on the banister as he looked upwards. After being dismissed from Dumbledore's office, they walked silently through the castle. Finally they stopped at an abandoned classroom they were familiar with and sought out the window for air. There wasn't much room for them on the false balcony, their arms squeezed next to each other.

"Is it still hurting?" Draco asked.

"The spells were good, it's fading," she said, straightening up and fastening her hands onto the rail.

"I should have handicapped him when I had the chance," Draco seethed as he turned around to face the sky with her.

"It doesn't matter now, he failed and now we have him in captivity," there was a hollowness to her tone. She stared out to the vast expanse of starless black. "McLaggen told me."

He stiffened.

"I know Snape told you to break things off with me. He acts as if he knows what is best for me," she sighed. "And I get it now, because I know Voldemort's at your Manor," she turned to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because of the face you're making right now," he glimpsed at her. "I didn't want you to worry, I didn't want to ruin what we had."

"So you ruined it first before anything else got the chance?"

"It was safer this way," he muttered.

"Straight from Snape's mouth," she bristled, one hand leaving the fence to rub her scar.

A ghastly slice of silence befell them. Harper noted how the emptiness in this early hour of the castle was eerie. Even the ghosts were asleep. Now that she was far from McLaggen's grasp, the fear was replaced with confusion, anger and denial. She was unnerved that Snape made some father-like say on her life. Who was he to dictate her relationships? Draco may have been exposed to Voldemort now, but so was she. And then Draco agreed with this logic. Everything was fine before Snape stuck his crooked nose into it.

"Why is everyone so damned about protecting me and keeping me safe?" She griped. "Haven't I proved I can look after myself? I'm the bloody Chosen One for Christ's sake, I'm supposed to face him."

"I don't want you too," Draco said. "I don't want you to face him, I don't want you to be anywhere near him, Harper."

"It's prophesied."

"Fuck prophecy."

"I wish."

He faced her now. Two weeks had passed since Harper could gaze into his bewitching, smoky orbs, only this time they were darkened and tired. She could see the strain of bitterness in them. The last two weeks hadn't been hard for just her, Draco was suffering too. He closed his eyes, tilting his forehead to rest on hers.

"You're wearing it," he said.

She reached up to fiddle with the dog brooch fastened to her sweater. It would stay with her, always.

"I'll always wear it."

He breathed out and steadied himself on her shoulders. It was a tight grip, as if he was assuring himself she was standing there and that this wasn't a dream to him. Her small fingers wrapped around one of his wrists.