The Boy Who Got Away
Title: The Boy Who Got Away
Author: hecticity
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry never got what he wanted most.
Warnings: character death, major angst
Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, Sirius would not be dead, and those books would be a whole lot more smutty.
Word count: 572
Author's note: For confiteor_3, through hp_adinfinitum, who requested: Harry/Draco where Draco is a prude. I've read too many fics where Draco is a slut so prude!Draco would be fantastic. And extra points if it has a happy ending. There is, unfortunately, no happy ending to this one...just angst and more angst. I'll be writing a fluffy/crack prude!Draco fic (probably longer than this one) in the next few days to make up for it.
“Harry…come here…” Draco’s voice taunted from his memory. In his mind, he saw the blond the way he had been once, happy and smiling, running away from him and beckoning for him to follow. “Come here, Harry!”
Harry looked at the body in front of him. The blond hair was slicked back, the way he had worn it in their Hogwarts years, making him look older and younger at the same time. His eyes were closed, and his face was stern, his pale pink lips pressed tightly together. Harry tried desperately to remember the last time that he had seen Draco smile, but it had been a long time.
He reached out to touch Draco’s lips, and suddenly he was 17 again, and the lips beneath his fingers were warm and soft.
Draco’s eyes were smiling at him, and his fingers wandered slowly away from his mouth, along his strong jaw, and up his cheek to the soft downy fuzz just beneath his ear. Harry bent his head to kiss it, and then retraced the path of his fingers with openmouthed kisses until their mouths met. The kiss was soft and warm, like the day that was coming to an end around them. They stood slightly apart, barely touching, so that it seemed electric sparks jumped from their clothing to the other's, and their tongues sat chastely inside their mouths.
Harry blinked, realizing with some surprise that his cheeks were wet. Draco’s, just below him, were glistening as well, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine that the blond had come back to life, come back to him. But under his fingertips, Draco’s skin was still as cold as ice.
The kiss was less innocent now, it had grown fiery, passionate, as if the meeting of their tongues had given birth to a dragon. Harry’s heart was certainly on fire, and he thought that he had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted Draco now. He moved closer to the other boy, desperate for contact, but Draco moved away. He backed off, his eyes full of fear and desire, mumbling “I can’t… I can’t, Harry, I can’t, I can’t do it…” before disappearing.
“Fuck you,” Harry said softly, and then louder, “FUCK you for leading me on!” Everyone in the room turned to look at him, astonished, but he was lost in memory again.
This time, they had gotten farther, and Draco was lying beneath him, half naked, flushed with lust and moaning into Harry’s mouth. But when Harry’s hand touched his leg, and then moved to undo his trousers, Draco flinched. His eyes opened and he looked up at Harry, pleading. “Please, Harry, don’t…”
Harry tried desperately to keep his frustration out of his voice. “Draco, why?”
He looked deep into the other boy’s stormy gray eyes, searching for something, anything. But Draco’s eyelids squeezed shut, guarding against his scrutiny. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
“I was so mad at you,” Harry whispered, resting his palm against Draco’s cheek, wet with Harry’s tears. “I was so, so mad. But now…”
Closing his eyes against his grief, he continued, “Now I understand.”
And he stood, still looking down at the boy he had loved and pursued and lost, and then he turned and left the room. In his hand was a piece of paper, a letter that he’d received just that morning, along with the news of Draco’s death.
Author: hecticity
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry never got what he wanted most.
Warnings: character death, major angst
Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, Sirius would not be dead, and those books would be a whole lot more smutty.
Word count: 572
Author's note: For confiteor_3, through hp_adinfinitum, who requested: Harry/Draco where Draco is a prude. I've read too many fics where Draco is a slut so prude!Draco would be fantastic. And extra points if it has a happy ending. There is, unfortunately, no happy ending to this one...just angst and more angst. I'll be writing a fluffy/crack prude!Draco fic (probably longer than this one) in the next few days to make up for it.
“Harry…come here…” Draco’s voice taunted from his memory. In his mind, he saw the blond the way he had been once, happy and smiling, running away from him and beckoning for him to follow. “Come here, Harry!”
Harry looked at the body in front of him. The blond hair was slicked back, the way he had worn it in their Hogwarts years, making him look older and younger at the same time. His eyes were closed, and his face was stern, his pale pink lips pressed tightly together. Harry tried desperately to remember the last time that he had seen Draco smile, but it had been a long time.
He reached out to touch Draco’s lips, and suddenly he was 17 again, and the lips beneath his fingers were warm and soft.
Draco’s eyes were smiling at him, and his fingers wandered slowly away from his mouth, along his strong jaw, and up his cheek to the soft downy fuzz just beneath his ear. Harry bent his head to kiss it, and then retraced the path of his fingers with openmouthed kisses until their mouths met. The kiss was soft and warm, like the day that was coming to an end around them. They stood slightly apart, barely touching, so that it seemed electric sparks jumped from their clothing to the other's, and their tongues sat chastely inside their mouths.
Harry blinked, realizing with some surprise that his cheeks were wet. Draco’s, just below him, were glistening as well, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine that the blond had come back to life, come back to him. But under his fingertips, Draco’s skin was still as cold as ice.
The kiss was less innocent now, it had grown fiery, passionate, as if the meeting of their tongues had given birth to a dragon. Harry’s heart was certainly on fire, and he thought that he had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted Draco now. He moved closer to the other boy, desperate for contact, but Draco moved away. He backed off, his eyes full of fear and desire, mumbling “I can’t… I can’t, Harry, I can’t, I can’t do it…” before disappearing.
“Fuck you,” Harry said softly, and then louder, “FUCK you for leading me on!” Everyone in the room turned to look at him, astonished, but he was lost in memory again.
This time, they had gotten farther, and Draco was lying beneath him, half naked, flushed with lust and moaning into Harry’s mouth. But when Harry’s hand touched his leg, and then moved to undo his trousers, Draco flinched. His eyes opened and he looked up at Harry, pleading. “Please, Harry, don’t…”
Harry tried desperately to keep his frustration out of his voice. “Draco, why?”
He looked deep into the other boy’s stormy gray eyes, searching for something, anything. But Draco’s eyelids squeezed shut, guarding against his scrutiny. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
“I was so mad at you,” Harry whispered, resting his palm against Draco’s cheek, wet with Harry’s tears. “I was so, so mad. But now…”
Closing his eyes against his grief, he continued, “Now I understand.”
And he stood, still looking down at the boy he had loved and pursued and lost, and then he turned and left the room. In his hand was a piece of paper, a letter that he’d received just that morning, along with the news of Draco’s death.