Sep 12 2008
Yes No Maybe
Title: Yes No Maybe
Author: dorrie6
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters and universe presented in this story belong to JK Rowling.
Summary: Draco seeks beginnings. Harry seeks endings. These are somehow the same thing.
Author’s Notes: This story was originally posted on 3/3/04. Revision posted 8/26/04. 10 drabbles of 100 words each.
*****
Yes No Maybe
“Are you sure we’re safe in here?”
The question settled in between them, thick and heavy. No. They weren’t safe in here. They weren’t safe anywhere, and they possibly never would be. He tried to focus on Malfoy’s pale face, all sharp points and deep hollows. He wondered if it had always looked like that.
“Potter? Are we?”
“Yes,” he answered, glancing toward the door.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
“Let me get you a drink,” Harry said. “What do you suppose they serve in a Muggle pub?”
“Harry,” Draco touched his hand. “It’s okay.”
Harry paused, fingers lingering. “Yes.”
*****
He returned, smiling, one eyebrow lifted. Draco wondered if Potter had always smiled like that. He supposed he wouldn’t know.
“What is that?”
“Well,” Harry sat. “The bartender called it ‘red whiskey’. I guess that was close enough to ‘fire’. Look, let me see your arm.”
Draco rolled up his sleeve, slowly. “I didn’t know what to-” he stammered. “I just-”
“Draco-” Harry stopped him. “This… I don’t think it’s going to work. It’s permanent, I think, even though you… I can’t keep you safe.”
“I know.” Draco looked at him, pleading. “Just… You won’t leave me?”
Harry softened. “No.”
*****
Regret burned. It drew itself in dark swirls mixed with blood, finding something beyond skin, raw and immortal. It made you watch your mother cower before her husband, begging for death. It sat deep in your gut, forcing out hatred and sorrow until it landed in a puddle at your feet. Regret took hold of your heart until you forgot who your enemies were, or even what that meant, and all you wanted was someone real and solid who could promise things and mean them.
Draco knew he couldn’t fight regret with a knife. That hadn’t stopped him from trying.
*****
Regret smiled. It giggled and teased and whispered tales of failure, reaching into dark places long forgotten. It played games like “so sorry…” and “what if…” and reminded you of all the ones you didn’t save… the ones you might have if only you’d never learned the word “enemy”. It came to you later with gaping wounds and sincere eyes you’d never noticed, showing you once again just how responsible you are. For everything. Everyone. It mocked you as it reached out, begging for help.
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” he remembered, a platitude overheard in childhood. Harry rather wished it blind.
*****
It wasn’t that Draco hadn’t noticed. The loss of eye contact, the false tone of voice as Harry disappeared into a shop or pub, always returning with some new information. It should have bothered him more, Draco thought, to know that Harry was ashamed of him, of having taken him in. In truth, he understood, or he believed he did. Still, it meant something the day they ran into Weasley.
“You need to work with a partner, Harry. It’s safer.”
Draco fell back, seeking shadow.
“I have one,” Harry responded, eyes sharp.
Draco stumbled, Harry’s steady hand at his elbow.
*****
The first few times had seemed like nothing. Cold, weary bodies drawn together out of convenience or necessity. A safe bed was hard to come by on the run, and it only made sense to share. If one should wake with the arm of another wrapped around his chest, it was only to be expected. These things happened.
When they’d started reaching sooner, without the innocent protection of sleep, neither said a word. Questions that might have been asked were pushed back and finally forgotten, lost in soothing arms and soft moans.
Harry, Draco murmured, shaking as he came.
Shhhhh.
*****
It had been easier than he expected, breaking with the Order. Dumbledore sat still as the others raged, a ceaseless onslaught of guilt turned to worry and back to guilt again, on and on about strength and loyalty and the dangers of working closely with someone carrying the dark mark. Only Harry noticed Snape’s abrupt silence as the ranting continued. He pushed the sound away from himself, eyes closing at Dumbledore’s quiet nod.
When Draco asked, days later, Harry’s mouth tightened.
“Is it because of-”
“No.”
He used his hands to soften the lie, warm and delicate on Draco’s back.
*****
For years, it had been about waiting. Waiting for the right information, the right time, the right spell. Huddled in pubs and safehouses, he’d waited for word, for permission to act on instincts so strong they’d kept him sleepless. He’d fought smaller battles, pretended that they meant something, and dutifully waited for the only one that would.
It seemed ridiculously late when he realized things had changed, the night Draco asked him with such simple honesty, “What do you want, Harry?”
What do you want?
“I just want it done.”
Draco met his eyes. “So what are we waiting for?”
*****
“No, not this one.” Harry’s tone too sharp to be final.
“You can’t stop me.”
Harry’s eyes flashed. “That hasn’t been tested.” Draco’s look inspired immediate regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- What I meant is…” Harry bit his lip. “Draco, your father’s going to be there.”
“No. He’s not.”
“Draco-”
“I have no father.”
Harry’s voice was hard. “So you won’t mind, then, when I kill him with a word.”
Draco glared. “Believe me, Potter, you won’t have to.”
Harry nodded, turning to the door.
“And Harry?” Draco touched his arm, almost smiling. “It takes two words. Best remember that.”
*****
It should have been… slower. Harry wasn’t sure what he’d expected, exactly, but something dramatic, maybe with thunderclaps and a large orchestra. Instead it felt rushed, not even furious, just fast. He knew, of course, that it had been close- that they’d only barely survived, yet now that they stood, triumphant and alone, fire destroying the last remnants of the men they’d hated so deeply, it all seemed disappointingly easy.
“I thought it would feel like the end.”
Fingers tugged at his arm. “Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Maybe…” Draco’s voice wavered. “Maybe it’s more of a beginning.”
Harry smiled, uncertain. “Maybe.”