[166.] I knew I loved you then
Title: I knew I loved you then
Author:
felixfvlicis
Pairing: Harry / Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 365
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury / Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Unbeta'd. Written for
hogwarts365's prompt 166: Scrofungulus.
Summary: The last thing Draco expected when he moved to Paris was, well, this.
"The doctor will be in shortly, monsieur Malfoy."
With each passing moment, Draco's concern intensified -- the ornate clock's ticks like a metronome for his pulse. Shortly after arriving in France, his bones began to ache. At first, the ache was dull -- nothing more than stiff joints after a fresh spring rain. Now, he felt his scar's rebirth -- eating away at him, devouring his muscles and tendons, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
"Scrofungulus," the doctor paused, "monsieur Malfoy." Her eyes resembled the hollow glow of the moon -- so bright -- the faintest hint of loneliness cemented within her long black lashes.
Draco's skin tingled with such vigor that it made him ache -- for his mother, for Hogwarts, for redemption. Afternoon lured him down the corridor of the doctor's office, with its reckless promises twined in warm, salty air.
--
Harry Potter was the catalyst that made Draco's facade crumble.
He sat slouched on the stone steps out front, a cigarette resting loosely between his lips. Draco whimpered.
"Malfoy? What on earth --" Harry began as Draco faced him, fingers yanking his tie loose, tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Figures," Draco mumbled.
Harry stared at him as though he was trying to decipher one of Dumbledore's riddles.
“Hermione moved after the war,” Harry explained. “She came here looking to expand her charity - Interhouse. Dragged me from the comforts of my London cocoon, as you can see.”
Draco rolled his eyes and sat down. He never met Harry's gaze for fear of losing himself -- the whites of his eyes breathing life into the green irises - clean, pure, radiating luck.
Felix felicis.
“Lovely as that may be, Potter, I’ve just discovered that Scrofungulus is the ailment that will rid the earth of me," Draco confessed, his voice muddled, tight.
Harry fell silent.
"My grandfather Abraxas suffered the same fate."
"Draco," Harry breathed, surprised at the tenderness of his tone.
"Don't, Harry." Draco begged, though his body betrayed him, inching itself forward, fingers brushing loose strands of Harry's hair to the side, tracing the scar. Harry shivered as his eyes fell closed.
When he opened them, Draco was gone.
Author:
felixfvlicis
Pairing: Harry / Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 365
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury / Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Unbeta'd. Written for
hogwarts365's prompt 166: Scrofungulus.
Summary: The last thing Draco expected when he moved to Paris was, well, this.
"The doctor will be in shortly, monsieur Malfoy."
With each passing moment, Draco's concern intensified -- the ornate clock's ticks like a metronome for his pulse. Shortly after arriving in France, his bones began to ache. At first, the ache was dull -- nothing more than stiff joints after a fresh spring rain. Now, he felt his scar's rebirth -- eating away at him, devouring his muscles and tendons, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
"Scrofungulus," the doctor paused, "monsieur Malfoy." Her eyes resembled the hollow glow of the moon -- so bright -- the faintest hint of loneliness cemented within her long black lashes.
Draco's skin tingled with such vigor that it made him ache -- for his mother, for Hogwarts, for redemption. Afternoon lured him down the corridor of the doctor's office, with its reckless promises twined in warm, salty air.
--
Harry Potter was the catalyst that made Draco's facade crumble.
He sat slouched on the stone steps out front, a cigarette resting loosely between his lips. Draco whimpered.
"Malfoy? What on earth --" Harry began as Draco faced him, fingers yanking his tie loose, tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Figures," Draco mumbled.
Harry stared at him as though he was trying to decipher one of Dumbledore's riddles.
“Hermione moved after the war,” Harry explained. “She came here looking to expand her charity - Interhouse. Dragged me from the comforts of my London cocoon, as you can see.”
Draco rolled his eyes and sat down. He never met Harry's gaze for fear of losing himself -- the whites of his eyes breathing life into the green irises - clean, pure, radiating luck.
Felix felicis.
“Lovely as that may be, Potter, I’ve just discovered that Scrofungulus is the ailment that will rid the earth of me," Draco confessed, his voice muddled, tight.
Harry fell silent.
"My grandfather Abraxas suffered the same fate."
"Draco," Harry breathed, surprised at the tenderness of his tone.
"Don't, Harry." Draco begged, though his body betrayed him, inching itself forward, fingers brushing loose strands of Harry's hair to the side, tracing the scar. Harry shivered as his eyes fell closed.
When he opened them, Draco was gone.