[fic] The Train, The Balance, and The One Question (Harry/Draco)
† The Train, The Balance, and the One Question | Harry/Draco
† Written by Gabriel Artisan ( house_illrepute) |
† Summary: Time is running out; soon Harry will have to confront Lord Voldemort... but not before someone has to confront him. |
† Warnings: None, really. Not really angst, or fluff, or flangst... I dunno |
† Beta'd by: Marshal J. (Any mistakes are mine due to last-minute additions) |
† Written for:slythindor100's picture challenge (challenge #57). I chose #2 |
† Author's Notes: I figured it was time for me to write something, seeing as I haven't responded to any challenges here in a long time.
Keeping balance, Harry realised, was a lot harder than it originally seemed. He walked with his arms stretched out to the side as though they were the wings to his aeroplane, one foot forward in gingerly steps.
“What do you call yourself doing?” called a drawling voice behind him.
Harry didn’t break stride, although he did wobble slightly. His arms flailed-though they remained rigid-as he nearly fell off the track.
Draco sidled up beside Harry. He wore the ghostly-white mask and the ominous, malefic black robe of a Death Eater. Harry could hear his hallow breathing; he continued with his balancing act.
“I asked you a question, Gryffindor,” Malfoy said, more of an order than request. "You look like a rattled, twee first-year more than the Saviour of the Wizarding World."
“Come to finish the job, then, Malfoy?” Harry said teasingly.
Malfoy’s gripped his wand tightly between white-knuckled fingers. He waved it over his face and the mask evaporated into fine blackened mist before disappearing altogether. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “My mission,” he said, almost haughtily, “has come to an end.”
Harry’s laugh was small, but it was a laugh, which was far more than he had done since Headmaster Dumbledore’s death the spring prior. That fact was not lost on Malfoy.
“Hermione and Ron have started the spell work,” Draco continued, following alongside Harry as he walked the length of the railroad track as though he were a star attraction in a death-defying circus high-wire act. He became irritated. “Yes, yes, Harry, I get the metaphor. Can you please stop now?”
But Harry didn’t stop; Draco huffed, but continued walking by his side.
“Anyway. Hermione has started the spell work for the transference. It doesn’t look-”
“I find the irony startling,” Harry said, looking down at his feet as he walked. “Here I am, taking over Professor Dumbledore’s role as the protector of the Muggles, Champion of the Commoners - as Voldemort liked to call him - and soon…”
“Soon, you’ll be one,” Draco finished, almost smiling. “Yes, that is quite ironic.”
Silence fell over them. Every other step or so, Draco would kick a rock in his path. Harry continued to stare down at his feet as he walked; he almost tumbled more than once. From a distance, they heard a steam engine blow its horn: a train was coming, though it was quite a bit away, yet. A question formed at the fore of Draco’s mind, pushing aside all other thought. More than once, he glanced toward Harry, the question burning the tip of his tongue. Instead, he looked ahead after deciding it best that his question go unasked and unanswered.
“You wanted to ask me something, Draco?”
A moment’s pause. “Actually, yes, I do. If you had to choose between the magic or the freedom, which would you choose?”
Harry underestimated the next step. His foot slipped off the rail. He leaned forward, then back, then forward, again, arms thrashing about wildly. He stopped his advance and bent his knees; it seemed to stabilise him. When he felt stable beyond a doubt, he continued his threaded walk without so much as a sideways glance.
“If I answer you,” Harry said, “you have to answer me a question.”
“What are we? Twelve?”
“Since you’re not trying to hex me, I suspect not. But that is the term of the agreement: an answer for an answer.”
Draco picked up a rock and heaved it, tossing it as far as he could in front of them. It bounced when it hit the ground, disturbing the pebbles around its landing. “Fine.”
“Yes.”
Harry’s voice had a silent resonance behind it; yet underneath, there was a sharp, high-pitched shrill. For whatever reason, the sound of it -- its timbre -- frightened Draco, though he didn’t know if it were the timbre of the voice or the icy resolve in it.
“I would gladly choose magic over freedom,” Harry continued. “I’ve had him - it - in me since I was a child. I’ve done fairly well suppressing it, yeah?”
Draco gave a quick nod.
“Yeah, I’ve a piece of that foul monster in me, but I still pulled the Sword out of the Hat, didn’t I?”
Draco gave another nod vaguely remembering the story about the Chamber of Secrets, even if he didn't quite remember the full details, exactly-though he was certain it had something to do with Harry’s alleged purity. Of course, Draco knew how ‘pure’ Harry could be when it came for gagging for cock: his cock, more the point.
The locomotive's horn echoed again and Draco looked up. He could see the locomotive, now - a simple Muggle transport, not magical like the one he was used to. It reverberated with no hint of magic; it was pure science - Muggle magic, perhaps. Draco scoffed inwardly at that notion.
“We’ve little time, Harry.”
Harry was unsure if Draco meant the mission, their time together, or the oncoming train. Still, he stepped one foot in front of the other-heel to toe-staring down at the ground as he did so.
“I was going to go flying today,” Harry said. “You know… Get the last bit of flying out of my system?”
“Why didn’t you?”
Harry sighed. “I haven’t flown in a while… not since…”
Draco grimaced at the memory.
“Anyway,” Harry said after taking a small breath. “I’ve almost forgotten what it felt like. I figure it’s best to let that memory die, yeah?”
“I could Obliviate you, then?”
“Trust you with my memories?” Harry teased. “Not on your life.”
“Scared, Potter?”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Besides, Hermione thinks it best if I conserve my magic until the final confrontation. Now, my question to you, Slytherin… could you love a magic-less Harry Potter?”
“Who’s to say I love the magical Harry Potter?”
For the first time since Draco had arrived, Harry had stopped moving, put his arms down to his side, and faced Draco. “I’m serious.”
“Yes.”
The voice was weak, hesitant. Still, there was a surprising conviction contained therein, as if the voice itself was uncertain of the truthfulness of the answer, but determined to prove itself right. For Harry - for the moment - that was enough.
Draco looked ahead and a worried expression briefly flashed over his features. The train was coming. Harry’s attention fixed itself upon Draco, he could hear the pistons and engine; feel the vibrations on the tracks.
“Come on,” Draco said, “there’s not much time.”
“Train, Voldemort, or us?”
Draco’s eyes shot to Harry’s. He grimaced. “What are you on about?”
“Will you marry me, Draco Malfoy?”
“What?” Draco blinked. Could he trust his ears with the noise of the oncoming train growing louder and louder? By now, the driver could certainly see someone was on the tracks; the intervals between each warning horn became shorter and shorter.
“Will you marry me?”
Draco paused, smiled wryly, and winked. “I agree to only one question, Potter. No cheating. Not very Gryffindor, is it?”
Harry smiled. “No, I suspect it isn’t.”
“You should really get down from there, you know?”
“I bet you think I should have dated Colin… or even Oliver… or maybe someone like Katie Bell.”
Draco reeled back, slightly, as if to side-step falling debris. He looked offended, even hurt.
“It would certainly have been easier,” Harry said. There was slight venom in his voice and a sneer in his eyes. Draco made to speak but Harry interrupted. “It’d have been fewer headaches, that’s for certain. I know it rude to say, but there it is.”
Draco couldn’t move - couldn’t think. He stood there with his shoulders slumped slightly and mouth agape.
“But I don’t love them, couldn’t ever love them,” Harry said, and suddenly his eyes were a softer shade of green and the timbre of his voice velvety smooth. “Not like I love you.”
Draco could hear the train getting closer. “You should really step down from there, now.”
“So I’ll ask you once more…”
Closer. The train engineer blew a warning horn.
“I’m serious, Potter-”
“And I’ll take nowt tosh nor bother from you…”
The sudden squeal of metal against metal pierced the air; the train was braking. Sparks erupted from underneath the train as the brakes locked against the track railing. It did little good. The velocity of the train barely changed at all.
“Harry, I’m mean it-”
Draco thought he could feel the rush of air as it was pushed aside by the locomotive’s speed.
Harry reached out a hand to Draco. “Would you - will you -”
By now, Malfoy could see the worried expression of the engineer. “Will you stop being rubbish?”
“-marry me?”
"Fine! Yes!" Draco shouted, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him off the train tracks.
Harry fell into Draco's embrace and Draco's arms wrapped protectively around him. He buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck, feeling the smoothness of the skin there even as the air whipped about them, the train just nipping at Harry's clothes. Rushing air whipped at them; their tangled together under the onslaught of the gale. They stood together, locked in that embrace, long after the train had passed; the pitch of the warning horn growing evermore lower and the sound of the pistons, fainter.
"The train is gone," Harry said, his voice muffled by Draco's throat.
Draco shuddered at the feel of the warm, moist breath. "I know."
Harry pulled away. "I suppose we'd best be off, then."
"Off to save the day, yes?"
"You're not funny, you know."
"Yes, but you love it -- you know it."
Harry paused. The silence poured over them like so much porridge in a bowl. Draco found the weight of Harry's glare unbearable; he couldn't look him in the eye. What if Harry saw his uncertainly, his fear? What if Harry found that piece of Draco that simply wanted to be a self-serving Slytherin and run away and hide? What if Harry saw the read Draco Malfoy, and was found wanting? Draco managed to look at Harry, if only sheepishly. He found that Harry's lips had thinned into a smile.
"Yes," Harry said, after a breath. "Quite."
Another shiver and Draco Malfoy was lost, though it was certainly that good sort of lost.
"Shall we head off, then?"
Draco took a deep breath as he looked at Harry, then the railroad tracks, and then back at Harry. In a single smooth move, Draco whisked past Harry, hopping on one of the railing tracks. He stuck his arms straight out to the side as though imitating the wings on an aeroplane . He wobbled as he walked, one foot directly in front of another, careful not to fall off-balance.
"I suspect we have plenty of time left," Draco said behind a smile.
Without a second word, Harry leapt atop the parallel track and mimicked Draco's fixed-wing imitation, only not as gracefully, of course.
Draco shot Harry a side-long glance. He still thought Harry looked rather like a rattled first-year...
... but he found himself wishing he had known that first-year a tick better.