AWDT Ficlet: Why, do you always do this to me?
Title: Why, do you always do this to me?
Author: original_lie
Pairing: H/D; minor R/Hr
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1108
Warning: one 'swear' word, some angst
Summary: The person who knows you best, is the person who can hurt you the most.
A/N: Written for jamie2109 & nocturnali's AWDT prompt: "You’re never going to find one who doesn’t make you cry". Title flogged from the song I was listening to.
Disclaimer: JK pwns all, I just borrow.
Disclaimer: Some contents of this journal are both R and NC-17 rated which means that if you (the prospective reader) are not of age in your country of residence then you shouldn't be reading these particular entries which are labelled as such. I cannot and will not be held responsible for those who do not adhere to this warning.
Harry’s eyes had ceased producing tears hours ago. He had hoped that meant he was done crying, but now, now it was painful, more so without the tears to ease his suffering. He hated that he always ran to Hermione and Ron’s when this happened. He hated it that he was so dependant on his friends when this happened.
His nose ran slightly, but Harry had no desire to wipe it away. Harry had no wish to do much of anything for a matter of fact.
He barely even acknowledged Hermione when she tucked the blanket up around him to keep him warm and stay his shivering. But it wasn’t the cold that made his skin prickle with goosebumps. Harry sniffled, his red eyes raw and tired.
“Harry,” Hermione chided gently, not really meaning it. Her face held an expression of one watching their evil cousin kick their much beloved puppy.
Harry coughed twice to clear his throat, thick with mucus.
“Harry, talk to me, please?” she practically begged.
Harry simply closed his eyes, sighing brokenly, wishing vainly for sleep to claim him.
***
Not even the sound of Ron’s furious questioning sometime later could move Harry into action. Tiredly he opened his eyes, his lifeless green eyes scanning the room until he found his oldest and dearest friends standing in the doorway watching him with pained expressions.
Hermione scuttled over, offering all Harry’s favourite foods, sweet tea and pumpkin juice. With no answer Harry turned on his side, his eyes focusing on the fabric of the sofa he was on.
***
“Harry, please. What did he do now?” Hermione prodded, her insistence becoming annoying though not enough to make him say anything.
“Harry,” when she hit the second syllable of his name, a lone tear snaked its way down her cheek. “Please Harry, it’s not worth it. You can’t let him do this to you! Please, just listen to me.”
Harry’s eyes finally found hers. A simple move giving her permission to continue with whatever it was she had to say.
“You’re never going to find one who doesn’t make you cry. I know it hurts. It always hurts coming from the one you love, the one who knows you best. But you’re not going to find someone who will love and care for you as much as he does. I’m not condoning whatever he did, Harry. But you can’t do this. You can’t curl up in a ball on the lounge in my spare room whenever he breaks your heart. You can’t cut yourself off from the world.”
Harry’s eyes filled with anguished tears, rolling onto his front he tried to bury his face in the pillow.
“It just hurts so much.” he sobbed, grateful for Hermione pulling him up and into her arms.
She wasn’t who he wanted, but he needed, no he craved human touch. He needed to know that he was loved.
***
Harry sat silently in the Granger-Weasley’s living room, a hot cup of sweet tea in both hands as he stared into the flames. Ron sat adjacently, not avidly pursuing conversation, not pushing to know what happened, but glancing from time to time at Harry, his freckled face tense with concern.
The knock at the door snapped Harry from his reverie, his eyes dropping to the milky tea. Soft, strained voices issued from the hallway and Harry could positively feel Ron bristling. Taking a deep swallow, Harry closed his eyes.
“I just want to talk to him.”
“He’s hurting. I don’t know what you-”
“Just show me where he is!”
Hermione huffed indignantly and a brief awkward silence passed throughout the house before being followed by the sound of shoes padded on the floorboards.
The groaning of furniture and mutterings of “smarmy bastard” and other such insults faded as Ron left the room, obviously herded out by his know-it-all wife.
“Harry?”
Instantaneously a lump burned at the back of Harry’s throat. The tears he’d spent hours willing away until they had finally abated threatened to bite him in the arse, figuratively speaking.
“Harry, please. I didn’t… it was… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Gods know I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t know where it came from!”
“Freudian slip?” Harry offered.
“Fuck no! How can you say that?”
“No one can be that hurtful to someone they supposedly love if they didn’t mean it, Draco.” Harry sneered, finally opening his eyes to glare at the blond.
Surprisingly, Draco looked like shit. His hair was a mess and his clothes were wrinkled like he had slept in them. His skin which was usually luminous was now wan.
“Harry, I… I, I do not think of you like that. I was just so angry and frustrated, but that is no excuse I know.”
“Do you even know why it hurt so much?”
Draco had the good grace to look abashed, before staring avidly at his shoes.
“It wasn’t so much that you called me… that you actually said what you said. It was the tone. The look in your eyes. It was so malicious.” Harry put his cup on the table and wrapped his arms around himself. “I hadn’t seen you look at me that way since before the war.”
“I didn’t know. I really didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that it hurt.”
Draco shuffled forward, perching precariously on the edge of the coffee table, careful not to hit the half-full cup of tea. Timidly, he reached out to touch the tips of his fingers to Harry’s knee.
“I don’t know what I can do to make it better.” Draco whimpered. “I hate that you’re upset because I said something in the heat of the moment. I don’t want to lose you.”
Harry sighed, his hand coming out to cover Draco’s fingers. “You’re not going to lose me, Draco. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to automatically forgive you.”
“I don’t deserve it. I have to earn it.” Draco nodded.
Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch, a slight smile threatening to take residence.
“Will you at least come home?” Draco asked quietly. “You don’t have to forgive me right now, but please, come home.”
Harry nodded, squeezing Draco’s fingers lightly. “I’d like that.”
Draco ducked his head and smiled an unsure smile, his white blond hair falling over one eye in a rather fetching way.
“Draco?”
“Yeah?”
“Take me home, now, please.” Harry asked, sincerely.
Draco looked up, his eyes scanning Harry’s face before nodding his acquiesce and jumping to his feet.
***
A/N: um.. have the song I was playing Why by Avril Lavigne
Author: original_lie
Pairing: H/D; minor R/Hr
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1108
Warning: one 'swear' word, some angst
Summary: The person who knows you best, is the person who can hurt you the most.
A/N: Written for jamie2109 & nocturnali's AWDT prompt: "You’re never going to find one who doesn’t make you cry". Title flogged from the song I was listening to.
Disclaimer: JK pwns all, I just borrow.
Disclaimer: Some contents of this journal are both R and NC-17 rated which means that if you (the prospective reader) are not of age in your country of residence then you shouldn't be reading these particular entries which are labelled as such. I cannot and will not be held responsible for those who do not adhere to this warning.
Harry’s eyes had ceased producing tears hours ago. He had hoped that meant he was done crying, but now, now it was painful, more so without the tears to ease his suffering. He hated that he always ran to Hermione and Ron’s when this happened. He hated it that he was so dependant on his friends when this happened.
His nose ran slightly, but Harry had no desire to wipe it away. Harry had no wish to do much of anything for a matter of fact.
He barely even acknowledged Hermione when she tucked the blanket up around him to keep him warm and stay his shivering. But it wasn’t the cold that made his skin prickle with goosebumps. Harry sniffled, his red eyes raw and tired.
“Harry,” Hermione chided gently, not really meaning it. Her face held an expression of one watching their evil cousin kick their much beloved puppy.
Harry coughed twice to clear his throat, thick with mucus.
“Harry, talk to me, please?” she practically begged.
Harry simply closed his eyes, sighing brokenly, wishing vainly for sleep to claim him.
***
Not even the sound of Ron’s furious questioning sometime later could move Harry into action. Tiredly he opened his eyes, his lifeless green eyes scanning the room until he found his oldest and dearest friends standing in the doorway watching him with pained expressions.
Hermione scuttled over, offering all Harry’s favourite foods, sweet tea and pumpkin juice. With no answer Harry turned on his side, his eyes focusing on the fabric of the sofa he was on.
***
“Harry, please. What did he do now?” Hermione prodded, her insistence becoming annoying though not enough to make him say anything.
“Harry,” when she hit the second syllable of his name, a lone tear snaked its way down her cheek. “Please Harry, it’s not worth it. You can’t let him do this to you! Please, just listen to me.”
Harry’s eyes finally found hers. A simple move giving her permission to continue with whatever it was she had to say.
“You’re never going to find one who doesn’t make you cry. I know it hurts. It always hurts coming from the one you love, the one who knows you best. But you’re not going to find someone who will love and care for you as much as he does. I’m not condoning whatever he did, Harry. But you can’t do this. You can’t curl up in a ball on the lounge in my spare room whenever he breaks your heart. You can’t cut yourself off from the world.”
Harry’s eyes filled with anguished tears, rolling onto his front he tried to bury his face in the pillow.
“It just hurts so much.” he sobbed, grateful for Hermione pulling him up and into her arms.
She wasn’t who he wanted, but he needed, no he craved human touch. He needed to know that he was loved.
***
Harry sat silently in the Granger-Weasley’s living room, a hot cup of sweet tea in both hands as he stared into the flames. Ron sat adjacently, not avidly pursuing conversation, not pushing to know what happened, but glancing from time to time at Harry, his freckled face tense with concern.
The knock at the door snapped Harry from his reverie, his eyes dropping to the milky tea. Soft, strained voices issued from the hallway and Harry could positively feel Ron bristling. Taking a deep swallow, Harry closed his eyes.
“I just want to talk to him.”
“He’s hurting. I don’t know what you-”
“Just show me where he is!”
Hermione huffed indignantly and a brief awkward silence passed throughout the house before being followed by the sound of shoes padded on the floorboards.
The groaning of furniture and mutterings of “smarmy bastard” and other such insults faded as Ron left the room, obviously herded out by his know-it-all wife.
“Harry?”
Instantaneously a lump burned at the back of Harry’s throat. The tears he’d spent hours willing away until they had finally abated threatened to bite him in the arse, figuratively speaking.
“Harry, please. I didn’t… it was… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Gods know I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t know where it came from!”
“Freudian slip?” Harry offered.
“Fuck no! How can you say that?”
“No one can be that hurtful to someone they supposedly love if they didn’t mean it, Draco.” Harry sneered, finally opening his eyes to glare at the blond.
Surprisingly, Draco looked like shit. His hair was a mess and his clothes were wrinkled like he had slept in them. His skin which was usually luminous was now wan.
“Harry, I… I, I do not think of you like that. I was just so angry and frustrated, but that is no excuse I know.”
“Do you even know why it hurt so much?”
Draco had the good grace to look abashed, before staring avidly at his shoes.
“It wasn’t so much that you called me… that you actually said what you said. It was the tone. The look in your eyes. It was so malicious.” Harry put his cup on the table and wrapped his arms around himself. “I hadn’t seen you look at me that way since before the war.”
“I didn’t know. I really didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that it hurt.”
Draco shuffled forward, perching precariously on the edge of the coffee table, careful not to hit the half-full cup of tea. Timidly, he reached out to touch the tips of his fingers to Harry’s knee.
“I don’t know what I can do to make it better.” Draco whimpered. “I hate that you’re upset because I said something in the heat of the moment. I don’t want to lose you.”
Harry sighed, his hand coming out to cover Draco’s fingers. “You’re not going to lose me, Draco. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to automatically forgive you.”
“I don’t deserve it. I have to earn it.” Draco nodded.
Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch, a slight smile threatening to take residence.
“Will you at least come home?” Draco asked quietly. “You don’t have to forgive me right now, but please, come home.”
Harry nodded, squeezing Draco’s fingers lightly. “I’d like that.”
Draco ducked his head and smiled an unsure smile, his white blond hair falling over one eye in a rather fetching way.
“Draco?”
“Yeah?”
“Take me home, now, please.” Harry asked, sincerely.
Draco looked up, his eyes scanning Harry’s face before nodding his acquiesce and jumping to his feet.
***
A/N: um.. have the song I was playing Why by Avril Lavigne