fic: Some Future Day
Title: Some Future Day
Rating: G/PG (idk, but there's no smut)
Word Count: 500
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Warnings: 8th Year setting
Summary: This is how Draco finds him. / Harry knows he is being watched.
Notes: A ficlet for my dear drarryxlover for her beta'ing skills!
Some Future Day
Head bowed, shoulders slumped, eyes glazed, one foot drawn back, the toe of his trainer cuffed about the leg of his chair. This is how Draco finds him: Potter's nose in a book, his fingers tapping rudely on the wood of the table. He usually draws a crowd, because people are dying to see how the Saviour spends his final year at Hogwarts. Some young witches titter and point, giggling at innuendo Potter doesn't hear and wouldn't understand if he did.
Potter is a mystery to everyone. Draco figures Potter doesn't even know himself. Dying to free the world tends to loosen one's grasp of comprehension of the people around them, of the deep secrets buried inside that beg to be let out. In the dark recesses of his privacy, does Potter unleash them? Does he pry himself out from the hero mould, scream livid nothings to his desires, let loose his true, feral nature?
Every day, Draco finds him there, in his books, studying. Yet, no one seems to notice, Potter doesn't turn a single page.
~*~
Harry knows he is being watched, but then, he's always being watched, so what's changed? It was Hermione's idea that he return to Hogwarts, but every day, he doubts his sanity in going along with her suggestion. What he wants most of all is to bury himself in the Burrow, in some kind of sanctuary where only the people who understand what he's gone through are allowed in. What he wants is to shout his anger and frustration at the top of his lungs in some private asylum, to curse, to be wild and free and have absolute closure.
There is no place far enough away for Harry to feel comfortable. Sitting beside the living, he thinks maybe it would have been easier to die and stay dead. Maybe he made the wrong choice. Maybe he would have had some peace. He thinks of Dumbledore, how unafraid of death he was, and grits his teeth against the ache that fills him up inside. Death could have freed him, released him, embraced him.
Harry looks up and numbly meets a pair of cold gray eyes. They are eyes he has seen a million times before, but something now has shifted and changed. Harry wants to see if what he feels can be something real and not just all the rubbish of expectations choking around his heart.
Rating: G/PG (idk, but there's no smut)
Word Count: 500
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Warnings: 8th Year setting
Summary: This is how Draco finds him. / Harry knows he is being watched.
Notes: A ficlet for my dear drarryxlover for her beta'ing skills!
Some Future Day
Head bowed, shoulders slumped, eyes glazed, one foot drawn back, the toe of his trainer cuffed about the leg of his chair. This is how Draco finds him: Potter's nose in a book, his fingers tapping rudely on the wood of the table. He usually draws a crowd, because people are dying to see how the Saviour spends his final year at Hogwarts. Some young witches titter and point, giggling at innuendo Potter doesn't hear and wouldn't understand if he did.
Potter is a mystery to everyone. Draco figures Potter doesn't even know himself. Dying to free the world tends to loosen one's grasp of comprehension of the people around them, of the deep secrets buried inside that beg to be let out. In the dark recesses of his privacy, does Potter unleash them? Does he pry himself out from the hero mould, scream livid nothings to his desires, let loose his true, feral nature?
Every day, Draco finds him there, in his books, studying. Yet, no one seems to notice, Potter doesn't turn a single page.
~*~
Harry knows he is being watched, but then, he's always being watched, so what's changed? It was Hermione's idea that he return to Hogwarts, but every day, he doubts his sanity in going along with her suggestion. What he wants most of all is to bury himself in the Burrow, in some kind of sanctuary where only the people who understand what he's gone through are allowed in. What he wants is to shout his anger and frustration at the top of his lungs in some private asylum, to curse, to be wild and free and have absolute closure.
There is no place far enough away for Harry to feel comfortable. Sitting beside the living, he thinks maybe it would have been easier to die and stay dead. Maybe he made the wrong choice. Maybe he would have had some peace. He thinks of Dumbledore, how unafraid of death he was, and grits his teeth against the ache that fills him up inside. Death could have freed him, released him, embraced him.
Harry looks up and numbly meets a pair of cold gray eyes. They are eyes he has seen a million times before, but something now has shifted and changed. Harry wants to see if what he feels can be something real and not just all the rubbish of expectations choking around his heart.