When I do something, I do it right!!
So yeah, the muse is back and the Bunnies are biting! Okay, here's part one of two...I haven't started part two, and it may be days, but I have it in my head, mostly anyway. I worked through the night on this, with my muse and my flist (hi
clio214 ) giving me the drive.
Title: The Confession (1)
Author:
aquila_star
Rating: PG
Pairing: H/D
Summary: Draco lays it all on the line.
Disclaimer: If I pwned 2 men this gorgeous I wouldn't waste time writing about it.
Authors Notes: My first Harry/Draco, I hope it works for you.
Diagon Alley was packed that fine August day. It was an unusual sight, for months now the alley had been empty, the regular shoppers too terrified for their lives to pretend business is as usual. On this day however, things were different.
Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort on the day before his 18th birthday, for certain this time. The fogs and unnatural weather that had suffocated Britain for months had lifted, leaving the bright summer sun to shine down upon a rejoicing Wizarding world. The Muggle world also rejoiced, although it was unaware of just how close it had come to the ultimate destruction, and equally unaware of the young man to whom it owed its naiveté.
Harry wandered up the alley from the Leaky Cauldron in the direction of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, keeping his head downcast and still having to bask in the adoration of everyone who saw him. No one stopped him though; he had an air of inapproachability around him that would brook no opposition.
Suddenly a hand reached out and gripped his shirt, throwing him momentarily off balance and into the shadows between the shops. Harry turned to face the person who had gripped him, moving further into the shadows to avoid the bustle in the alley. His eyes fell upon a slight figure partially obscured by the shadows, but unmistakably familiar. Harry had shadowed this man for long enough to know him at the slightest glance.
“Harry.” The man said pleadingly, as if begging for a single moment of attention from the formidable young man in front of him. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, Draco Malfoy interrupted him.
“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken plainly and without ceremony, but they were filled with emotion, sorrow, regret and longing, as well as some emotion Harry could not define. Draco moved closer to his rival in the shadows.
“Sorry?” Harry asked quietly, his voice strong and commanding for all its softness, and he caught Draco’s eyes as the blonde watched him earnestly. “What are you sorry for Malfoy?” Harry asked, holding Draco’s gaze with indomitable will.
Draco wet his lips before attempting to speak again, his trademark calm all but gone in the close confines between the buildings, Harry’s proximity making his mind whirl in ways not entirely unpleasant.
“For everything,” Draco sighed, his eyes dropping from Harry’s at last. “For all I’ve done or not done to you over the years. For the things I said to you, the way I insulted you so carelessly. For doing to same to Hermione and especially Ron, and everyone else you cared about to boot. Dumbledore, Sirius Black. Your parents.”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly, his composure shaken by Draco’s use of his friends’ given names. Draco was on a roll however, and now that the words had started to come, it was all he could do to keep them organized and articulate, Harry’s steady gaze doing nothing to calm his nerves. “I’m sorry for taunting you, for taking every bad thing in your life and turning it into a way to hurt you more, you and everyone you cared about.”
Draco sighed; the remembrance of his past behavior, in light of his present awareness, was an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. He took a breath, regaining his momentum, knowing he had one chance, this one chance only to tell Harry everything, all the things that had been left unsaid for too long, all the apologies of his heart, and the epiphanies that had followed his realization.
“I just couldn’t let go of it, the anger, the hurt. I couldn’t stop myself from resenting you, because you had rejected me. Twice.” He stopped. “Now,” Here Draco took a deep breath, steeling himself against the rest of the confession that was pouring out of him.
“Now then." he repeated, “I was a prat, I won’t deny it. I know I was abrasive and rude and a hundred other things I am sure you and Ron have already called me behind my back, rightfully so, and I was completely out of line, but…well, okay. No, but…oi. I was an ass, and I have no excuse for my behavior. None. But it still hurt, because I wanted you and you didn’t want me back. I let it fester and…well; you know how it went from there.”
Draco paused for a moment, surprised that Harry had not walked away, or indeed, hexed him to within an inch of his life, spy for the Order or not. He had taken Harry by surprise, enough perhaps, that he would be willing to listen to what Draco had to say. Harry had to listen; Draco was desperate to get it out in the open. Harry needed to know.
“So.” Harry said.
“I’m not done, Potter, hold on.” Draco snapped back, taking in another cleansing breath before continuing.
“Okay, take your time.” Harry said softly, and Draco felt his heart speed up, impossibly, his pulse racing towards a destination unseen. No matter how he wished to deny it, that voice affected him deeply, those eyes so bright, and his shoulders so wide, almost half again as broad as Draco’s own. A messy lock of black hair fell onto Harry’s forehead, and Draco raised his hand slightly before he could stop himself, as if he actually had the courage to reach out and brush it away from Harry’s face.
But Draco was no Gryffindor. In any case, Harry beat him too it, raking a strong masculine hand through his eternally messy hair, tousling it further. Draco’s mouth went dry and he forced himself to take in a shaky breath. He composed himself with difficulty; the worst had yet to come.
“So why the apology now, Draco?” Harry asked, his voice soft and strong at once, the pitch lowering even further in the quiet of their shadow. Combined with his use of Draco’s given name, it gave the blond the courage needed to continue. Courage borrowed from the epitome of Gryffindor.
“Well Harry, things have changed, or maybe they haven’t, I don’t know. But I have changed, that's for certain, and one change has a way of bringing others.” At Harry’s look, Draco stammered out quickly. “N-no, not just the war, it started long before then, but I didn’t really see it, I didn’t realize. I suppose I didn’t want to, really.
“At first I just wanted to make my father happy. Yeah, just like you must have thought. Daddy’s little boy. And then I just wanted to keep my mother safe, and to live though it myself. It’s ironic really, making the choice to follow my father created the necessity of going in deeper, to protect Mum from that choice.”
Draco paused thoughtfully, pondering how to continue. ‘You’ve come this far, no use stopping now.’ He told himself sternly.
“Okay, bear with me here, I intend to tell you everything, but I have to figure out how to say it. I’m not even sure I know how it happened, or how to explain it to myself, so telling you is not the easiest thing I’ve attempted in my life.”
At this Harry raised a curious eyebrow. Draco looked away from Harry’s intense gaze and saw over the taller boy’s shoulder, moving steadily up the alley in their direction, a pair of Weasleys.
“Shittiest timing ever.” Draco muttered, causing Harry to turn and follow the blonde’s stare. Spotting Ron and Charlie coming nearer, he ducked his head out of sight and grabbed Draco’s elbow, propelling the shorter man backwards until they were both enclosed totally into the shadows between two buildings. The air was cooler here, and close, their breaths loud in the hush of their intimate corner.
They were standing closer now, and Draco could feel the heat that radiated off Harry, and the magical power that resonated through Harry was tremendous and tactile even from a distance. Along with it came Harry’s scent, a trace of niaouli mixed with cinnamon. There was treacle also, no surprise, Draco knew how much Harry loved the sticky sweet. The smell was making Draco’s mouth water, in stark contrast to the parched condition of his mouth a moment earlier. Draco was salivating, but he was in no mood for sweets. ‘Better get on with it.” He thought wryly to himself.
“Well, I think it was always there, from the first moment I saw you I think I knew, but at eleven I had no idea what it meant, just that I needed to be near you. And it had nothing to do with who you were; I didn’t know your name until the second time we met. I mean, it’s not because you’re Harry Potter, it’s just that you’re Harry. That’s all, and it’s enough.
“Anyway, I suppose I acted the way I did in a desperate bid to gain your attention. You know what they say about negative attention being better than none, and they’re right, whoever they are. I liked that I could get under your skin, wind you up and make you lash out, it meant that however much you hated me, at least I got a reaction right? Attention from you was like air to me.”
“I never hated you.” Harry said, softly interrupting Draco’s train of thought. “I don’t hate you.” Their eyes met then and in that long moment Draco knew that Harry knew what he was going to say, but he continued anyway, he could not leave any doubt. Now that he had started, it needed to be finished, fool’s errand or not.
“So yeah, I just wanted you to pay attention to me. You had made it very clear you didn’t want me for a friend, but I could be the best, or worst, as the case may be, rival anyone would wish for. If you were inclined to wishing for such a thing, no, never mind.”
“It was the attention that I craved from you, the thrill I got when you were focused on me alone, it was ambrosia and I was addicted. I could care less is anyone else saw me at all, as long as I could get you to focus on me. It’s sad isn’t it? So much for the unshakeable Draco Malfoy.
“So there I was desperate for your attention, and by 6th year I had realized why. I knew you were following me around, trying to catch me at it, and part of me wished that you would. All of me wished that you would. Perhaps then you could have helped me out of the grave I had dug myself into through my own stupidity and anger. I had made my own bed in my inability to see or admit the truth.”
Draco sighed here, his eyes glazing over as though he was suddenly far off in remembrance. He shook himself back to the present and chanced another glance at Harry, who was watching him through lowered eyes with an indescribable expression.
“Truth, the truth. I suppose it’s time now. As if you haven’t already figured me out, but I have to say it, there’s no backing out now.” Draco took another steadying breath and let the words tumble out.
“The truth is Harry, that I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I know I always will. It’s always been you; there’s never been anyone else, as much as I tried to convince myself. Merlin knows I tried, but it was no use. And anyway, how do you move on from somewhere you’d never been? How did you get over someone you had never got under?”
At this point Draco stopped again and ran nervous fingers through his neat hair, upsetting the perfectly placed strands. He drew in another long breath, not daring to look at Harry.
“So there you have it. The infamous Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, traitor, and spy is really just another hopeless groupie and queer to boot. Completely lost in love with the Boy Who Lived and so unable to do anything about it, so far from reaching you, of even reaching out to you at all. I’d made certain of that myself, and no one could have done a better job in ensuring that you could never…”
Draco sighed, Harry’s lack of violent response encouraging him to hurry up and finish so he could escape back to his flat in humiliation.
“Well, that’s it. There’s nothing more to say really. I never expected anything from you; I’m surprised you’ve given me this long really. Harry, I know that you’re straight, and you’re spoken for, and I know that you don’t like me, but for once just once in my life I needed to be completely honest with you. You deserve that much from me at least, after I spent so much time and energy on making you miserable. Well, the tables are turned now, don’t you worry about it. I’m sorry.
“So, I’m just going to go. I’ll leave you alone; you won’t have to worry about me bothering you again. You off all people deserve some peace, especially from me.”
At this point Draco pushed himself off the wall and looked at Harry again. The brunette wore an expression of shock, looking appropriately like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.
“I’m sorry Harry, so much. I’m sorry things weren’t different between us. But you should know one more thing, Just in case it all overcomes you, and you feel like you can’t be Harry Potter for one more moment.”
Harry jerked at these words, and Draco knew he was spot on in his appraisal of Harry’s feelings and struggles.
“You should know that I love you. If you ever feel like no one knows you or loves you, you, not the Golden Boy, just remember. To me you’re not the Boy Who Lived, or the Savior of the World, you’re just Harry. And I love Harry. Just you.”
Draco looked like he had more to say, but with that pronouncement he stood tall and looked Harry in the eye. He leaned forward and let his lips brush the other man’s lightly, just a feather soft touch to solidify his words. Then he turned and walked away, out of the shadow and Harry’s life.
And there was no going back.
Chapter Two
clio214 ) giving me the drive.
Title: The Confession (1)
Author:
aquila_star
Rating: PG
Pairing: H/D
Summary: Draco lays it all on the line.
Disclaimer: If I pwned 2 men this gorgeous I wouldn't waste time writing about it.
Authors Notes: My first Harry/Draco, I hope it works for you.
Diagon Alley was packed that fine August day. It was an unusual sight, for months now the alley had been empty, the regular shoppers too terrified for their lives to pretend business is as usual. On this day however, things were different.
Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort on the day before his 18th birthday, for certain this time. The fogs and unnatural weather that had suffocated Britain for months had lifted, leaving the bright summer sun to shine down upon a rejoicing Wizarding world. The Muggle world also rejoiced, although it was unaware of just how close it had come to the ultimate destruction, and equally unaware of the young man to whom it owed its naiveté.
Harry wandered up the alley from the Leaky Cauldron in the direction of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, keeping his head downcast and still having to bask in the adoration of everyone who saw him. No one stopped him though; he had an air of inapproachability around him that would brook no opposition.
Suddenly a hand reached out and gripped his shirt, throwing him momentarily off balance and into the shadows between the shops. Harry turned to face the person who had gripped him, moving further into the shadows to avoid the bustle in the alley. His eyes fell upon a slight figure partially obscured by the shadows, but unmistakably familiar. Harry had shadowed this man for long enough to know him at the slightest glance.
“Harry.” The man said pleadingly, as if begging for a single moment of attention from the formidable young man in front of him. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, Draco Malfoy interrupted him.
“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken plainly and without ceremony, but they were filled with emotion, sorrow, regret and longing, as well as some emotion Harry could not define. Draco moved closer to his rival in the shadows.
“Sorry?” Harry asked quietly, his voice strong and commanding for all its softness, and he caught Draco’s eyes as the blonde watched him earnestly. “What are you sorry for Malfoy?” Harry asked, holding Draco’s gaze with indomitable will.
Draco wet his lips before attempting to speak again, his trademark calm all but gone in the close confines between the buildings, Harry’s proximity making his mind whirl in ways not entirely unpleasant.
“For everything,” Draco sighed, his eyes dropping from Harry’s at last. “For all I’ve done or not done to you over the years. For the things I said to you, the way I insulted you so carelessly. For doing to same to Hermione and especially Ron, and everyone else you cared about to boot. Dumbledore, Sirius Black. Your parents.”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly, his composure shaken by Draco’s use of his friends’ given names. Draco was on a roll however, and now that the words had started to come, it was all he could do to keep them organized and articulate, Harry’s steady gaze doing nothing to calm his nerves. “I’m sorry for taunting you, for taking every bad thing in your life and turning it into a way to hurt you more, you and everyone you cared about.”
Draco sighed; the remembrance of his past behavior, in light of his present awareness, was an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. He took a breath, regaining his momentum, knowing he had one chance, this one chance only to tell Harry everything, all the things that had been left unsaid for too long, all the apologies of his heart, and the epiphanies that had followed his realization.
“I just couldn’t let go of it, the anger, the hurt. I couldn’t stop myself from resenting you, because you had rejected me. Twice.” He stopped. “Now,” Here Draco took a deep breath, steeling himself against the rest of the confession that was pouring out of him.
“Now then." he repeated, “I was a prat, I won’t deny it. I know I was abrasive and rude and a hundred other things I am sure you and Ron have already called me behind my back, rightfully so, and I was completely out of line, but…well, okay. No, but…oi. I was an ass, and I have no excuse for my behavior. None. But it still hurt, because I wanted you and you didn’t want me back. I let it fester and…well; you know how it went from there.”
Draco paused for a moment, surprised that Harry had not walked away, or indeed, hexed him to within an inch of his life, spy for the Order or not. He had taken Harry by surprise, enough perhaps, that he would be willing to listen to what Draco had to say. Harry had to listen; Draco was desperate to get it out in the open. Harry needed to know.
“So.” Harry said.
“I’m not done, Potter, hold on.” Draco snapped back, taking in another cleansing breath before continuing.
“Okay, take your time.” Harry said softly, and Draco felt his heart speed up, impossibly, his pulse racing towards a destination unseen. No matter how he wished to deny it, that voice affected him deeply, those eyes so bright, and his shoulders so wide, almost half again as broad as Draco’s own. A messy lock of black hair fell onto Harry’s forehead, and Draco raised his hand slightly before he could stop himself, as if he actually had the courage to reach out and brush it away from Harry’s face.
But Draco was no Gryffindor. In any case, Harry beat him too it, raking a strong masculine hand through his eternally messy hair, tousling it further. Draco’s mouth went dry and he forced himself to take in a shaky breath. He composed himself with difficulty; the worst had yet to come.
“So why the apology now, Draco?” Harry asked, his voice soft and strong at once, the pitch lowering even further in the quiet of their shadow. Combined with his use of Draco’s given name, it gave the blond the courage needed to continue. Courage borrowed from the epitome of Gryffindor.
“Well Harry, things have changed, or maybe they haven’t, I don’t know. But I have changed, that's for certain, and one change has a way of bringing others.” At Harry’s look, Draco stammered out quickly. “N-no, not just the war, it started long before then, but I didn’t really see it, I didn’t realize. I suppose I didn’t want to, really.
“At first I just wanted to make my father happy. Yeah, just like you must have thought. Daddy’s little boy. And then I just wanted to keep my mother safe, and to live though it myself. It’s ironic really, making the choice to follow my father created the necessity of going in deeper, to protect Mum from that choice.”
Draco paused thoughtfully, pondering how to continue. ‘You’ve come this far, no use stopping now.’ He told himself sternly.
“Okay, bear with me here, I intend to tell you everything, but I have to figure out how to say it. I’m not even sure I know how it happened, or how to explain it to myself, so telling you is not the easiest thing I’ve attempted in my life.”
At this Harry raised a curious eyebrow. Draco looked away from Harry’s intense gaze and saw over the taller boy’s shoulder, moving steadily up the alley in their direction, a pair of Weasleys.
“Shittiest timing ever.” Draco muttered, causing Harry to turn and follow the blonde’s stare. Spotting Ron and Charlie coming nearer, he ducked his head out of sight and grabbed Draco’s elbow, propelling the shorter man backwards until they were both enclosed totally into the shadows between two buildings. The air was cooler here, and close, their breaths loud in the hush of their intimate corner.
They were standing closer now, and Draco could feel the heat that radiated off Harry, and the magical power that resonated through Harry was tremendous and tactile even from a distance. Along with it came Harry’s scent, a trace of niaouli mixed with cinnamon. There was treacle also, no surprise, Draco knew how much Harry loved the sticky sweet. The smell was making Draco’s mouth water, in stark contrast to the parched condition of his mouth a moment earlier. Draco was salivating, but he was in no mood for sweets. ‘Better get on with it.” He thought wryly to himself.
“Well, I think it was always there, from the first moment I saw you I think I knew, but at eleven I had no idea what it meant, just that I needed to be near you. And it had nothing to do with who you were; I didn’t know your name until the second time we met. I mean, it’s not because you’re Harry Potter, it’s just that you’re Harry. That’s all, and it’s enough.
“Anyway, I suppose I acted the way I did in a desperate bid to gain your attention. You know what they say about negative attention being better than none, and they’re right, whoever they are. I liked that I could get under your skin, wind you up and make you lash out, it meant that however much you hated me, at least I got a reaction right? Attention from you was like air to me.”
“I never hated you.” Harry said, softly interrupting Draco’s train of thought. “I don’t hate you.” Their eyes met then and in that long moment Draco knew that Harry knew what he was going to say, but he continued anyway, he could not leave any doubt. Now that he had started, it needed to be finished, fool’s errand or not.
“So yeah, I just wanted you to pay attention to me. You had made it very clear you didn’t want me for a friend, but I could be the best, or worst, as the case may be, rival anyone would wish for. If you were inclined to wishing for such a thing, no, never mind.”
“It was the attention that I craved from you, the thrill I got when you were focused on me alone, it was ambrosia and I was addicted. I could care less is anyone else saw me at all, as long as I could get you to focus on me. It’s sad isn’t it? So much for the unshakeable Draco Malfoy.
“So there I was desperate for your attention, and by 6th year I had realized why. I knew you were following me around, trying to catch me at it, and part of me wished that you would. All of me wished that you would. Perhaps then you could have helped me out of the grave I had dug myself into through my own stupidity and anger. I had made my own bed in my inability to see or admit the truth.”
Draco sighed here, his eyes glazing over as though he was suddenly far off in remembrance. He shook himself back to the present and chanced another glance at Harry, who was watching him through lowered eyes with an indescribable expression.
“Truth, the truth. I suppose it’s time now. As if you haven’t already figured me out, but I have to say it, there’s no backing out now.” Draco took another steadying breath and let the words tumble out.
“The truth is Harry, that I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I know I always will. It’s always been you; there’s never been anyone else, as much as I tried to convince myself. Merlin knows I tried, but it was no use. And anyway, how do you move on from somewhere you’d never been? How did you get over someone you had never got under?”
At this point Draco stopped again and ran nervous fingers through his neat hair, upsetting the perfectly placed strands. He drew in another long breath, not daring to look at Harry.
“So there you have it. The infamous Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, traitor, and spy is really just another hopeless groupie and queer to boot. Completely lost in love with the Boy Who Lived and so unable to do anything about it, so far from reaching you, of even reaching out to you at all. I’d made certain of that myself, and no one could have done a better job in ensuring that you could never…”
Draco sighed, Harry’s lack of violent response encouraging him to hurry up and finish so he could escape back to his flat in humiliation.
“Well, that’s it. There’s nothing more to say really. I never expected anything from you; I’m surprised you’ve given me this long really. Harry, I know that you’re straight, and you’re spoken for, and I know that you don’t like me, but for once just once in my life I needed to be completely honest with you. You deserve that much from me at least, after I spent so much time and energy on making you miserable. Well, the tables are turned now, don’t you worry about it. I’m sorry.
“So, I’m just going to go. I’ll leave you alone; you won’t have to worry about me bothering you again. You off all people deserve some peace, especially from me.”
At this point Draco pushed himself off the wall and looked at Harry again. The brunette wore an expression of shock, looking appropriately like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.
“I’m sorry Harry, so much. I’m sorry things weren’t different between us. But you should know one more thing, Just in case it all overcomes you, and you feel like you can’t be Harry Potter for one more moment.”
Harry jerked at these words, and Draco knew he was spot on in his appraisal of Harry’s feelings and struggles.
“You should know that I love you. If you ever feel like no one knows you or loves you, you, not the Golden Boy, just remember. To me you’re not the Boy Who Lived, or the Savior of the World, you’re just Harry. And I love Harry. Just you.”
Draco looked like he had more to say, but with that pronouncement he stood tall and looked Harry in the eye. He leaned forward and let his lips brush the other man’s lightly, just a feather soft touch to solidify his words. Then he turned and walked away, out of the shadow and Harry’s life.
And there was no going back.
Chapter Two