Title: A Sonata of Seasons
Author:
faeriechiiRating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1,891
Summary: As the seasons change, so do the circumstances of Harry and Draco's relationship. They learn that life is not a fairy tale, and sometimes love just isn't enough.
Warnings: A bit of angst.
Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter obviously does not belong to me. (The actual writing does, however.)
A/N: Many thanks to
j_folked for beta-ing. Constructive criticism is appreciated.
Part 1: Winter
Love is a fickle emotion. One minute your love could be destined by the stars, and the next... completely non-existent. There is nothing to stop this. You just accept it and move on.
Draco Malfoy sat on the cushioned bench with his eyes half closed, hands positioned carefully over the keys before him. There was a moment of silence before his fingers struck, and a trilling melody broke out, disturbing the peace of the quiet room. At first, the music seemed to be full of joy and contentment. Then, there came a pause; a subtle hesitation in the melody before the music turned dark and mournful. Draco’s fingers danced about the keys in a slow, calculated movement as he played the music that repeated over and over again in his head.
The creak of a door opening behind him did not stop his playing. In fact, there was very little evidence that Draco had heard it at all, except a sideway glance of his now glistening grey eyes. A soft set of footsteps and the muffled swishing of robes followed the closing of the door. The footsteps echoed closer before coming to a stop just a few feet from the piano. Draco didn’t have to turn to know it was Harry.
“Potter, will you stop fidgeting? It’s ruining the mood of the music.”
The black-haired wizard blushed guiltily and dropped his arms down to his sides.
“S-sorry.”
Draco sighed, dropping his hands from the keys and turned to face his boyfriend. He rolled his eyes at the blatant nerves Harry was showing.
“Okay, obviously something is bothering you, Potter. So, you have two options: we could talk about it now, so I may continue to practice, or you can continue to stand here, worrying yourself to death.”
The words came tumbling out before Harry could stop them.
“They know.”
Draco arched an alabaster eyebrow questioningly.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m fluent in panicked Gryffindor,” the blond said dryly. “Try again in more coherent terms?”
The black haired wizard began pacing and anxiously running his hands through his messy hair, much to Draco’s exasperation.
“Hermione and Ron. They know. I told them,” Harry tried to explain desperately, wringing his hands.
He then stopped pacing, looking at Draco with a panic-stricken expression.
“Draco, t-they want me to stop seeing you.”
A flicker of emotion passed through those grey eyes before they disappeared and the icy steel wall was back in place.
“But it’s not about what they want, is it, Potter?” Draco said, his tone implying that it was more of a statement rather than a question.
Harry sighed. It was a sigh of reluctance and defeat. He was torn, his heart pulling him into two different directions.
“They’re still my best friends. They mean a lot to me,” Harry said. “But you mean a lot to me too.”
Draco shrugged and turned back to the ivory keys that waited patiently for him. For him, they sang songs of love and loyalty and hope. He briefly wondered if Harry could hear them too, hear the keys sing of the feelings hidden in the blond’s heart. If he could, Draco knew that everything would be okay. And if he didn’t, there was still the music to embrace.
“Draco?” Harry began, his voice wavering in uncertainty. “You do... love me, yes?”
The blond turned back to stare into the green eyes that reflected Harry’s insecurities and nodded once. A yes. He couldn’t speak the words themselves; they were too powerful. He was too weak.
“I don’t want to lose you,” the black-haired wizard whispered.
At this, Draco stood and offered a hand. When Harry took it, Draco took him into his arms, staring into the brilliant green eyes that shone with worry and confusion. With a small, confident smirk, he brought his face to meet Harry’s until their lips nearly touched and said, very quietly, “Then don’t.”
Their lips met in heated passion, brushing away any worry that had entered either of their heads. With entangled tongues and roaming hands, they were both quite confident that nothing could tear apart what they had. Because they were destined to be lovers. Fate brought them together, and none should tempt Fate.
Should they?
* * *
The Yule holidays came quickly, and the two lovers were forced to separate. There were promises to write and whispered adorations. They proclaimed that two weeks were too long to be apart. But in the end, they had no choice and each felt disheartened by the other’s would-be absence.
At Malfoy Manor, Draco spent much of the time cooped up in his room keeping books for company. They were the only things that could keep his mind off his boyfriend. Memories that brought a yearning seemed to enjoy plaguing his mind whenever it was unoccupied. His was rarely without occupation. It suited him that way.
It wasn’t until the fifth day that Draco received word, for their correspondence had to be kept secret. It would not do for the son of the Dark Lord’s servant to be writing to the Boy Who Lived. It was dangerous. The letter arrived by an inconspicuous owl that stared at the blond a little warily as if it knew his family’s reputation. But the blond paid it no mind. He was busy freeing the sealed parchment from the offered leg and busy reading the scrawled handwriting of his love.
D,
That task I told you about before is more of a challenge than I ever have imagined. But I’m not giving up because it’ll give us a future one day. My friends think what we have is unreal. They don’t understand. They’re here everyday, spouting their doubts. It grows tiring.
I wish you were here to reassure me.
-H
Draco sighed as he read between the lines. From what he gathered, things were not looking well. He wasn’t sure how to respond to the owl, wasn’t sure how to make things better. Taking a fresh sheet of parchment from his desk drawer, he picked up his quill and dipped it into an inkwell full of glistening black ink. After a moment of thought, he began to write.
H,
For now, I can only give you words. And for that, I am deeply sorry. But I hope that my words will be enough to get you through the days. Try not to worry about what others think. Sounds hypocritical of me, I know, but they’re not involved. We are, and that’s all that matters. If they don’t get that, it’s their problem. Not yours.
He paused, not sure what else he could add without making the owl too incriminating. Just because he said they weren’t to worry about what others thought didn’t mean they could be caught. Their lives depended on their secretiveness. And for what little he could give to his love, he could definitely give that.
For your darkest nights, I bring you the sunrise.
-D
Draco murmured a simple spell to ensure the ink was dry before sealing the owl with an emerald green wax seal. The seal was plain except for a small dragon curled up in the center, a Yuletide present from the Boy Who Lived himself. Draco wanted to show him that it was appreciated, and it was. Attaching the letter to the owl, he bribed the wary creature with a delicious treat to deliver his letter. It hooted at him with a curious expression before dropping out of the window and soaring into the skies.
It was beyond hope for a reply to come straight away. Draco knew this, but he couldn’t stop hoping. Though he tried to turn his mind to the wonderful stories in his books, another part of him couldn’t stop counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours since he last heard an owl tapping at his window. The hours eventually turned to days. Still, there was no word.
The blond began to worry, despite himself. He tried to delve deeper into the mountainous piles of books in his room, but the worlds created by words could no longer entrap him. Much to his horror, he began the nasty, common habit of pacing. He was sure that his father would admonish him if he was caught behaving in such a way. But his father had been away from the manor all summer, leaving Draco the freedom to do things he ought not to do.
In the nights when Draco could no longer pace the lengths of his room, he dreamt. They were not pleasant dreams, and they left him sleeping fretfully. The nightmares often drew him awake before the sun rose, leaving him in complete darkness. He could never remember what he dreamt and was only left with vague memories of being completely alone. By the third night, he turned to dreamless sleep and choked down the vile taste of the potent potion. That night, he didn’t dream.
It wasn’t until the twelfth day since the holidays began that Draco received his second owl from Harry. The tapping at the window roused the blond just after the sun had risen. Unfortunately, he was not a morning person and nearly hexed the bird into oblivion before he realized that it had to be a letter from Harry. Rising out of bed, he opened the window to let the owl in, the same owl that had delivered the last letter. He quickly detached the letter from the bird’s leg and broke the seal.
That was when his world fell apart.
D,
I’m not sure how to word this, so I’ll just be honest.
I can’t do this anymore.
I’m sorry.
-H
Outside, the snow was falling, covering the grounds of the manor with its harsh, white coldness. Inside, something else was falling. It was the fragile hopes of a young wizard, who had been deeply in love. As the meaning of the note set in, he felt something inside of him shatter before the icy grips of reality took him. And then there was blackness.
* * *
“But the young Master must eat!” a house elf pleaded with her large, tear-filled eyes.
Draco stared at the worried house elf silently before picking up his fork and knife. He ate three bites of the mutton before setting the silverware down and pushing his plate away. Staring out the window, he watched the snow come down heavily. He could hardly see the gardens through the bleary storm. But it didn’t matter. Nothing did.
“That will be all, Rinny,” he said to the house elf without looking away from the scene outside.
“But,” the house elf began before a glare from the blond stopped her. “Y-yes, Master.”
Tomorrow he would return to Hogwarts. It wasn’t by choice, of course. If he had a choice, he would sit in his room, watching the days pass and the seasons change. Instead, Draco would be forced to face the one person he did not think he could bear to see. But that didn’t matter either. He was a Malfoy. And if there was one thing he learned, it was that Malfoys lived through their misery without complaint.
Ultimately, he was too much of a coward to end his own miserable existence.
He wished he weren’t.
Part 2: Spring