Draco

He wants to tell him not to do it.

When Harry first mentioned that he was going to throw himself back into his fight the bad guys routine, Draco didn’t think it would bother him this much. He had just shrugged his shoulders and asked if he would be home for dinner, because in his head, he was thinking that going out to play the hero was just something that Harry did. He could no more stop putting himself in dangerous situations in the name of doing the right thing than he could rip out his own DNA.

(Though after that disaster of the dinner with the Dursleys, Draco’s pretty sure he would if he could.)

Turns out, though, that Draco did mind, enough that when the people from the old DA start showing up in his living room (Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Dean ushered in through the door, how are you, can I take your coats, try not to let him die tonight), he has to bite his lip to keep his concerns to himself. In theory, it wasn’t anything that Harry hadn’t done a million times before, but in practice this was him going to face down some pretty bloodthirsty people with no back up and no official training. They were still just all kids, vigilantes trying to take down people who weren’t going to pull their punches.

“You’re cool if Luna crashes here with you, right?” Ginny shouts the question at him from out in the hallway, poking her head around the doorway, and Draco jumps. He’d been too busy watching Harry to notice.

“Yeah.” Not that it sounded like it was actually a question. He’s pretty sure that if he said no Ginny would give him a black eye and Luna would end up waiting out the night here, anyways. “That’s fine.pany’ll be nice.”

And it will be. He knows from the war that he doesn’t take well to being left behind, and when Harry had shrugged off his half-hearted offer of help, Draco had resigned himself to one long, lonely night pacing the hallways for Harry’s return.

“I told you it would be fine.” Harryes up from behind him out of nowhere, and Draco leans into the hand he had placed on his shoulder. “Draco will keep an eye on her.”

“I’d rather keep an eye on you.” He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do it, because Harry does not owe him anything, he does not belong to him, and anyways, saving the day is as much a part of Harry as his lightning bolt scar. Self sacrificing tendencies are just one of those things you have to put up with if you plan on caring for him. “Can’t you let someone else do it?”

He doesn’t say haven’t you done enough, which is what he’d been thinking since Harry first announced that he was going to be going after these people. Finish what Dumbledore had started, and all that.

“I’m going to be fine.” Harry’s got his hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, the two of them face to face with only inches between them. He thinks of how it mirrors the good bye scene Hermione and Ron had gone through only a few minutes earlier and steps away. “It’s not like the last time.”

“It’s worse.” Draco tugged on his hands, trying to keep Harry’s attention focused on him. “This time they’ve got nothing to lose.”

And they don’t. None of you-know-who’s old supporters do, they’re just on the run from the ministry and trying to regain some of the power they used to have. For them, they’re only choices are to keep running and hope to find someone who lets them claw their way back into power, or go to Azkaban. Draco’s got a feeling they would rather it be the first choice, and they wouldn’t mind murdering a few kids to do it.

“I’m going to be fine.” Harry’s eyes search across his face, and Draco looks away, not wanting to him to see how worried he is. “I promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, he thinks, and then decides he’ll take what reassurance he can get.

“It’s a bunch of Durmstrang rebels,” Ginny said, smiling softly at Draco. She’s probably had to be the girl left behind one too many times, and knows exactly how this feels. “We’ll be back by midnight.”

Back by midnight.

What a bunch of bloody liars.

Draco believes them at first, because Luna had told him that Ginny was very prompt and that these things normally go very quickly, so he sits beside her and listens to her drone on about the changes she’s making to the Quibbler (which, without her father’s influence, is not the load of horseshit it used to be), staring at the clock the whole time. He watches the minute hand, and then the hour, as it gets closer and closer to twelve o’clock.

And then twelvees, and Harry does not. Onees, and Harry does not. One thirty, and Luna is beginning to look alarmed at the ferocity he was showing while pacing around the room.

“They’re going to be back, you know.” Luna is entirely calm. Draco is started to get the smallest of suspicions that it was him that needed thepany, not her, and Ginny had known it. He hated when people try to be nice to him. “Thingse up.”

“Things?” He rounded on her, intending to bully her over something that wasn’t her fault like he used to, but then he takes in her trusting face and wide eyes and can’t bring himself to do it, which is a shame. It would have made him feel better. “What things, exactly?”

Luna shrugs. “People don’t always like to cooperate when they’re being arrested for murder.” Which, okay, fair, but not a good enough explanation, because Draco was still concocting images of Harry bleeding out on the ground somewhere and Draco never getting the chance to tell him good bye, or sorry, or how grateful he was that Harry stood up that day at the ministry. But then Luna yanks him away from his worry entirely by suggesting they make a cake.

“Why the bloody hell would we make a cake?”

He stares at her. For the most part, Draco has be used to the idea that Luna does not see things the way that everyone else does, but he didn’t see how cooking would improve the situation.

“Ginny’s always hungry after these sorts of things.” She waved her hand in the air, like these sorts of things were asplicated and worrisome as a two a day Quidditch practice. “I think it’s a chocolate sort of night.”

Draco stops to stare at her, and then realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to turn her loose in his spotless kitchen. And also that maybe he doesn’t want to just keep sitting in here all by himself.

“Yeah, alright.” He heaves himself off the couch. “But I pick the frosting.”

When Harry does finally stumble in the door, Draco’s so caught up in fighting with Luna over the frosting that he doesn’t notice it at first. But then Luna disappears, letting go of the frosting tube so quickly he idently smears bright blue icing on his cheek, and Draco realizes that they aren’t alone anymore.

Harry is waiting at the doorway, smiling and sheepish. “Sorry.” He holds out his arms, like he knows that Draco is just dying to hug him. “Took longer than expected.”

Draco’s angry, and a little miffed, but that doesn’t stop him from running across the room to get to him. “What happened?” He was running his hands over his face and arms, finding the place where he was hurt, because he had to be hurt, right, to be back this late? “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Harry pushed up his sleeve to show a burn on the inside of his arm. “Just a scratch.”

It’s looking to be a nice reunion, but then a kick to the shins from Ginny sends Harry stumbling backwards, cursing. “Speak for yourself.” She’s got blood all over her, soaking into her clothes, and grass and twigs strewn through her hair. “I was the one that about got bloody murdered.”

Bloody murdered is an apt description. She’s got a gash across her stomach, and it takes Luna three waves of her wand to have it knit back together. It’s seamless, without even a shimmer of a scar left behind, and the sight of it all makes the scars on Draco’s chest ache.

“Don’t play that card.” Harry says, swatting at her, even though Draco can’t help but notice how careful he is around her, helping her sit and bringing her a glass of water before she can try and get it herself. “We both know it was your turn to chase after the runner.”

Draco wonders if that’s really how it played out, with each of them taking a tally of who it was that went into the dangerous situation first. Like they were taking turns at chancing death, and it would be the luck of the draw that decides which one of them falls.

He doesn’t really want to know.

Ginny and Luna leave eventually, having eaten much of Draco’s cake and stole a pair of Harry’s coats to wear home. Draco follows them to the doorway because Harry still hasn’t learnedmon manners, and when it closes behind them, he slumps against the door, holding his head in his hands.

(His fingerse away blue, which, yeah, the frosting was still all over his face. Nice friends, letting him know, especially considering Ginny went crazy with her polaroid.)

Harry’s waiting for him in the living room. He looks lost, standing there, like he can’t quite figure out what he’s doing or why he would be standing there, still preparing for the next threat. Adrenaline highs can do that to you.

“You alright?” Draco wanted to go to him, but he also knew thatpany might not be wee, so he hung back.

“Yeah.” Harry smiled, even though his eyes were still darting around the room. Draco had the feeling that this would be one of the nights where he woke up to the sound of footsteps creaking on twisted floorboards, where he would pretend not to know that Harry was up and about, checking the locks and the shadowed corners for intruders. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Don’t think about me.” Draco dug his fingers into the blanket on the couch, burying them down to the knuckles. It’s easier to have conversations like this when there’s something to hold onto. “You do whatever you have to.”

“Always do.”

Harry still looked lost, and now he looked a little bitter about the whole thing, so Draco thought it would be okay to circle the couch ande up to him. He hesitates before getting closer, but then he reaches out and grabs Harry’s hand, swinging his arm back and forth between them.

It draws Harry back to the moment, a little. He still looks lost, but there’s something clearer about his expression when he raises his free hand to brush against Draco’s cheek, right over where the frosting was.

He’s probably just smearing it around, Draco thinks, biting down on his lip. This is not helping anything.

(Shit, it’s not. He’s the one who threw the fit about not being anything more than roommates, and here he is, acting like a right arse by getting all up in his face.)

“I’m going toe back home, you know.” Harry whispers, and Draco wants to back up. He also wants to invest in some of those light balls that Hermione has at her place, because candlelight is so not helping. “Who’s going to take care of you if I’m not here?”

You don’t even take care of me now, Draco thinks, but that’s a lie, so he amends it to I don’t belong to you, which, depending on what way you look at it, is also a lie.

“Probably Luna.” Stop talking. Step away. Talk about the damn cake, at lea

本站無廣告，永久域名（fanyan.cc）