(no subject)
Title: And The Tears Continue To Fall
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Harry and Draco reflect on what they have lost.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Harry's P.O.V.
I guess this is what you meant when you told me you could never love me, and if I knew what was good for me I wouldn't allow myself to become emotionally attached. You warned me for days that a relationship between us would end up hurting us both more than anything if we did become attached to one another. LIke a fool, innocent and naive, I didn't listen, knowing you were right, but desperately trying to force your statements to be false. I don't know when it started to happen or the moment that I truly started loving you. I tried to deny the existence of such feelings until I was blue in the face, but you, one so apt at reading emotions, were never fooled. The only thing you did was pull me closer and tell me not to get in too deep, or I wouldn't be albe to pull myself away from the trap you were created to be. I never understood why, when you told me to pull back, you always pulled me closer. And looking back, that fact makes my memories of you so much worse. That habit has baffled me for quite some time, but I never dared to ask about it. The fear of losing anything remotely "you" kept me from asking. I believe the moment I realized, completely and irrevocably, tha tI love you beyond any reasonable comprehension, was when you smiled and told me that I was the only one you had ever allowed to get close to you. The awesome privilege that being allowed to get so close to one so chillingly cold on the surface nearly overwhelmed me, I was so awed. Again and again, you told me that "we" wouldn't work out, that we didn't have a future, yet you never made a move towards the door. When Ron was murdered in the heat of the last battle, you were there to comfort me, and I just fell more in love with you, growing accustomed to clinging to you for support. The memories of our talks, where we engaged in conversations that would make demons weep at the horrors we have both witnessed, are extremely painful. You were always one for explaining emotions, dealing with them, and then casting them aside. The process was new to me-dealing with emotions when they first came up-and I fought you every single step of the way. After one of our confessionals, the name you invented for them, I'd storm off, fully enraged. When you didn't think I could hear you, you whispered to the folds of darkness, "You're the only one I've ever cried for, because you're the only person who's distress can bring tears to my eyes." You said this the time I had ruthlessly accused you of being heartless, unable to weep because your emotions were as frozen as ice. I even went so far as to try and make a bet with you that you never cried. You declined, whispering the explanation that I pretended not to catch. But you knew, as you always knew, that I had heard. When I went to bed that night, there were tears in my eyes, horribly ashamed of my accusations. The next day I apologized, claiming that you were far from heartless. And you smiled. The smile that my apology brought to your lips took my breath away, and my sanity along with it. But that night, even as we lay curled in one another's arms, you gently reminded me that "we" would never work. And then you left. I haven't seen you since, except in passing, and even then you do not smile at me and I have come to dread seeing your face. Especially your eyes. The silver eyes that used to reveal so much so openly to me are closed off, as final a promise as death. It breaks my heart anew every time I look in your eyes, trying to find even a shadow of what used to be between us. There is no trace, no evidence, and that makes my stomach churn and causes my tears to flow more passionately. There is not a night I do not cry, for you are the only one who has ever brought tears to my eyes who still lives, and even when I can't cry anymore, the pain lances through me. I have finally grasped what you have been trying to tell me all along, and the price is too high. The lesson in pain almost too much. But I understand now. And I hate you for it. Even as I love you, it hurts to think of the lesson you taught me. We won't work, no matter how much we want it to. And the tears continue to fall.
Draco's P.O.V.
I miss you so much more than I dare to let on. I wish again and agin that I neve left, that I was still curled up in your bed, snuggled safely in your arms, lying in companionable silence as we drift off to sleep. I fell in love with you years before you dared to love me back, and it hurt knowing I wasn't your ultimate choice as lover, that you found me too low to even consider your friend. I know that I changed that-I see it every time I walk by you in the hall. Your bloodshot eyes tell the story of your haunted nights, the troubled dreams, and the hot tears that I am responsible for causing you. What I told you once-about your pain being the only thing that could make me cry-that was true. I steel myself against the hurt in your eyes every time you walk by so that I don't break down myself and give in to the urge to wail in anguish. Self-inflicted, the pain is so much worse than if you had kicked me out. The guilt I feel will never make up for the pain I put you through, but then, nothing will. I've noticed the way you've taken to avoiding my eyes because you can't stand to see the shields in place against you after being allowed full access to me for so long. And it breaks my heart every time I see you searching for the perfect relationship we shared, seeking even a trace of the love I showed you, and you realizing that you'll find none. Your emotions have always been an open book-one of th emain reasons I fell so hard for you. No matter what came out of your mouth, your eyes always carried the truth. And seeing the pain in your eyes makes me want to crawl in a corner and die of the worst disease known to mankind. I cry at nights now, unalbe to help myself. I hate looking in your eyes and seeing the pain and anguish that *I* am responsible for. Just knowing it's my fault is enough to undo me completely. I remember the secrets we shared with one another and the surprise dates you sprung on me. But most of all, I remember your last apology. Your acknowledgment that I am not a heartless person. And I chose that moment to walk out on you. I made myself into a monster because I wanted you to hurt the way you hurt me so many years ago. All I've managed to do is turn us both into quivering masses of despair, and it's all my fault. I hate myself for it, but I cannot take it back, though I would give everything to do so. But I threw it all away the moment I walked out and it hurts *so* much. You told me at some point, "Once you walk out that door, you aren't welcome here anymore. I'll never want to see you again, no matter how much either one of us are hurting." And the sincerity in that claim overwhelmed me, because I knew the day would come. And so did you, deep down. You created for yourself a safe spot, a place to escape me forever. I can't blame you now-it's my fault, after all. But I can admire your strength and your survival instincts. As I throw the letter I wrote begging for forgiveness into the fire, I know in my heart that I have failed you. I was everything to you, as you were to me, and I broke your heart. I will always love you, and I will never be able to love another. I miss you so much, Harry. But there's nothing I can do to make amends. And the tears continue to fall.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Harry and Draco reflect on what they have lost.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Harry's P.O.V.
I guess this is what you meant when you told me you could never love me, and if I knew what was good for me I wouldn't allow myself to become emotionally attached. You warned me for days that a relationship between us would end up hurting us both more than anything if we did become attached to one another. LIke a fool, innocent and naive, I didn't listen, knowing you were right, but desperately trying to force your statements to be false. I don't know when it started to happen or the moment that I truly started loving you. I tried to deny the existence of such feelings until I was blue in the face, but you, one so apt at reading emotions, were never fooled. The only thing you did was pull me closer and tell me not to get in too deep, or I wouldn't be albe to pull myself away from the trap you were created to be. I never understood why, when you told me to pull back, you always pulled me closer. And looking back, that fact makes my memories of you so much worse. That habit has baffled me for quite some time, but I never dared to ask about it. The fear of losing anything remotely "you" kept me from asking. I believe the moment I realized, completely and irrevocably, tha tI love you beyond any reasonable comprehension, was when you smiled and told me that I was the only one you had ever allowed to get close to you. The awesome privilege that being allowed to get so close to one so chillingly cold on the surface nearly overwhelmed me, I was so awed. Again and again, you told me that "we" wouldn't work out, that we didn't have a future, yet you never made a move towards the door. When Ron was murdered in the heat of the last battle, you were there to comfort me, and I just fell more in love with you, growing accustomed to clinging to you for support. The memories of our talks, where we engaged in conversations that would make demons weep at the horrors we have both witnessed, are extremely painful. You were always one for explaining emotions, dealing with them, and then casting them aside. The process was new to me-dealing with emotions when they first came up-and I fought you every single step of the way. After one of our confessionals, the name you invented for them, I'd storm off, fully enraged. When you didn't think I could hear you, you whispered to the folds of darkness, "You're the only one I've ever cried for, because you're the only person who's distress can bring tears to my eyes." You said this the time I had ruthlessly accused you of being heartless, unable to weep because your emotions were as frozen as ice. I even went so far as to try and make a bet with you that you never cried. You declined, whispering the explanation that I pretended not to catch. But you knew, as you always knew, that I had heard. When I went to bed that night, there were tears in my eyes, horribly ashamed of my accusations. The next day I apologized, claiming that you were far from heartless. And you smiled. The smile that my apology brought to your lips took my breath away, and my sanity along with it. But that night, even as we lay curled in one another's arms, you gently reminded me that "we" would never work. And then you left. I haven't seen you since, except in passing, and even then you do not smile at me and I have come to dread seeing your face. Especially your eyes. The silver eyes that used to reveal so much so openly to me are closed off, as final a promise as death. It breaks my heart anew every time I look in your eyes, trying to find even a shadow of what used to be between us. There is no trace, no evidence, and that makes my stomach churn and causes my tears to flow more passionately. There is not a night I do not cry, for you are the only one who has ever brought tears to my eyes who still lives, and even when I can't cry anymore, the pain lances through me. I have finally grasped what you have been trying to tell me all along, and the price is too high. The lesson in pain almost too much. But I understand now. And I hate you for it. Even as I love you, it hurts to think of the lesson you taught me. We won't work, no matter how much we want it to. And the tears continue to fall.
Draco's P.O.V.
I miss you so much more than I dare to let on. I wish again and agin that I neve left, that I was still curled up in your bed, snuggled safely in your arms, lying in companionable silence as we drift off to sleep. I fell in love with you years before you dared to love me back, and it hurt knowing I wasn't your ultimate choice as lover, that you found me too low to even consider your friend. I know that I changed that-I see it every time I walk by you in the hall. Your bloodshot eyes tell the story of your haunted nights, the troubled dreams, and the hot tears that I am responsible for causing you. What I told you once-about your pain being the only thing that could make me cry-that was true. I steel myself against the hurt in your eyes every time you walk by so that I don't break down myself and give in to the urge to wail in anguish. Self-inflicted, the pain is so much worse than if you had kicked me out. The guilt I feel will never make up for the pain I put you through, but then, nothing will. I've noticed the way you've taken to avoiding my eyes because you can't stand to see the shields in place against you after being allowed full access to me for so long. And it breaks my heart every time I see you searching for the perfect relationship we shared, seeking even a trace of the love I showed you, and you realizing that you'll find none. Your emotions have always been an open book-one of th emain reasons I fell so hard for you. No matter what came out of your mouth, your eyes always carried the truth. And seeing the pain in your eyes makes me want to crawl in a corner and die of the worst disease known to mankind. I cry at nights now, unalbe to help myself. I hate looking in your eyes and seeing the pain and anguish that *I* am responsible for. Just knowing it's my fault is enough to undo me completely. I remember the secrets we shared with one another and the surprise dates you sprung on me. But most of all, I remember your last apology. Your acknowledgment that I am not a heartless person. And I chose that moment to walk out on you. I made myself into a monster because I wanted you to hurt the way you hurt me so many years ago. All I've managed to do is turn us both into quivering masses of despair, and it's all my fault. I hate myself for it, but I cannot take it back, though I would give everything to do so. But I threw it all away the moment I walked out and it hurts *so* much. You told me at some point, "Once you walk out that door, you aren't welcome here anymore. I'll never want to see you again, no matter how much either one of us are hurting." And the sincerity in that claim overwhelmed me, because I knew the day would come. And so did you, deep down. You created for yourself a safe spot, a place to escape me forever. I can't blame you now-it's my fault, after all. But I can admire your strength and your survival instincts. As I throw the letter I wrote begging for forgiveness into the fire, I know in my heart that I have failed you. I was everything to you, as you were to me, and I broke your heart. I will always love you, and I will never be able to love another. I miss you so much, Harry. But there's nothing I can do to make amends. And the tears continue to fall.