The Sorrows of May

The Sorrows of May 7





Disclaimer: You know the deal. This is not entirely
mine. [.The characters and such.] But, somewhat proudly I can say I do in fact
own the plot, and anything that these characters do.

 

&if I
catch you comin' my way with that,

Pretty
Nancy Boy on your arms, I'll

Snatch that
twig away and replace

My lips
upon your thorns.

 

 

 

 

Harry opened his eyes to darkness. He wiped his eyes
tiredly, and kicked his feet out to the side, momentarily forgetting the body
next to his. He, quietly as he could, snaked out of bed, his eyes staying
behind his shoulder to make sure he didn’t awake the Slytherin at rest. His
feet hit the cold stone floor, sending a chill all the way up his spine. After
gaining his composure, he made his way to the window, glancing back to the bed
between steps. Lazily he pushed the window open enough to get a good look. His
eyes averted to the moon, then the water below, and then back up to the sky,
and there his eyes rested for quite a while. He sighed heavily; a sigh filled
with burden, sorrow, and well-hidden anger. He pulled the window back and
latched it. Turning his back to the wall, he slid down slowly until he was
crouching, and then he let his legs lay out before him, staring at his feet
boredly as he wiggled his toes. Another sigh.

 

He glanced around the room for
his quill. He reached over to the table he was sitting near, and swatted it off
the top, having it land near his thigh. Harry eyed the quill momentarily,
hesitating before picking it up and examining it. He pricked the tip of the
quill, and snatched his finger away, an odd smile coming to his lips as he slowly
watched the blood trickling from his fingertip. He looked up at the bed---the
bed which contained Draco Malfoy, the sleeping Slytherin Prince; his little
Draconis; his dragon. Silently he mouthed, ‘Forgive me’ and brought the tip of
the quill down to his wrist---

He stopped, midway. He dropped
the quill suddenly, scrambling to his feet.

“What was I…what was I
thinking?” he called out into the dark. Draco’s body shifted slightly. He bent
over to pick up the quill, looking over as if wondering why he ever even
considered…He put it back on the table top, inching towards the bed. Draco’s
arm reached out, searching for Harry’s body lying next to his; except it
wasn’t. He turned over as Harry climbed back into the bed.

“Where…Had you left?” Draco
asked, his voice saturated with worry and sadness. The thought of Harry
possibly leaving him in the middle of the night. Or any other time,
was…depressing. Like many other things.

“No…I hadn’t left you,” he said,
picking up Draco’s hand and kissing it lightly. “I wouldn’t leave you…” he
said, “least not mentally or spiritually.” The last part he mumbled, and,
fortunately for him, Draco didn’t catch it.

“Good…I don’t…know what I’d do
if you ever left me,” and he smiled sadly, tilting his head up a bit to kiss
Harry. Harry returned the kiss, as well as the sad smile. He brought a hand to
his cheek, stroking the pale white skin.

“I love you, Draco…please
remember that,” he said as he stood from the bed for the second time that
night. Draco nodded slowly.

“I…I will, Harry. But…I don’t
want to have to remember. I want to know, everyday. Please don’t make this a
memory, Harry…”

 

Harry
kneeled so he was on the side of the bed, holding Draco’s hand, stroking it
with his thumb in small circles. For a moment he remained doing so, his eyes
shut, his hair falling over them and his body shaking slightly from the cool of
the hard, stony floor, and nervousness. He looked up at Draco, who looked back
at him with those same pleading eyes, which brought him so close to tears he himself
had to shut his eyes again. Finally he spoke.

“I won’t”, he choked out. Again
he rose, keeping an eye on Draco’s form as it lie there, basking in the
moonlight. How unaware was he of his beauty, exactly? Harry decided to change
subject, and quickly so.

“You’re beautiful at night, even
more so than during the day.” Draco’s eyes widened slightly. A small smile, if
that’s what it was, appeared on his pale face.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He
moved over on the bed a bit, pushing one of the pillows over. “Come back to
bed,” he looked down at the sheets before him, “please…” mp fmp formed in
Harry’s throat as he hesitantly sat down on the bed. A look of calm and urgency
passed Draco’s face, and he reached a nimble finger, followed by four more for
Harry’s own hand. He accepted and allowed the other boy to pull him closer
against his warmth.

“I’m sorry…” Harry mumbled.

“What for?” Draco asked, yawning
in-between his words. Harry shook his head and mumbled a faint ‘never mind’,
which Draco decided was an okay answer…for now. There was a moment of silence
in which Harry was sure Draco was asleep. It was then when he turned on his
back, the Slytherins’ arms still wrapped protectively around his waist,
ensuring that he not climb out of bed again, did he think about just what was
running through his mind as he was ready to bring the quill to his wrist.

What made him want to?

What made him stop?

 

Harry frowned, annoyed by these
two questions that he could not answer. He turned his head and looked at Draco.
Peace. Serene. Beauty. Asleep. These were all the words he could use to
describe him in this state. He wished he could fall asleep so easily. He knew
soon, though, if things kept as they were, Draco would not fall asleep so
easily. Especially if he and Harry were still together. Especially so.

“J’aime tu beaucoup, Draco,” he
whispered, blowing a strand of the blondes’ hair out of his eyes. He smiled
weakly, and made to fall asleep.

Though
sleep did not come as quickly and easily as he hoped.

 

~~**~~

“Settle down, class. I said
settle down. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, shut
up,” yelled Professor Snape to his potions class. Harry was unpacking his
books and quill when Draco came through the door, his head to his chest and
slightly hunched. Harry eyed him over in wonder, but Draco didn’t notice. Snape
began class as normally. Harry was off in his own world, which was okay for
today since Snape was back in his office, leaving the class to simply follow
the directions on the board: “Write on
one piece of parchment why the Potions for Painful Deaths’ are inappropriate
and dangerous to yourself and the consumer. Do not talk afterward or you’ll be
assigned detention”. Harry scoffed. Snape knew the class would have that
completed in moments, but he knew too they’d find something to keep themselves
occupied, which, among smaller things, would be talking. While racking his
brains with other things, he figured he’d either get it out of the way later or
complete it for homework. He took a glance over in Draco’s way, and saw him
sitting alone, against the wall, his eyes open, but blank. He desperately
wanted to go sit beside him, and comfort him how he normally would if they were
up in their room, but the other occupants of the class wouldn’t find it normal.
He kept glancing back to make sure no one saw him staring. Slyly he stood,
checked for anyone watching [as they weren’t] and made to sit by Draco. He did
so successfully.

“Draco,” he said in a low voice,
“is something wrong?” Slowly Draco turned his head, and smiled.

“No, love, but thanks for
asking.” Harry nodded unconvinced.

“But…I have a question. Last
night you apologized…and your behavior was so…odd. Why?” he asked, his eyes
glazed. Harry knew this would come. And though he knew, he was not
prepared.

“I…well, I…”he paused. He wanted
to tell the truth as much as he could without actually telling him the truth.
This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Last night I…got out of bed, as
you know, to, well, look out the window.” Draco nodded. “Yes, well…then I sat
down, on the floor and…”he shut his eyes tight, and shook his head, “I picked
up my quill.”

“Why, you didn’t have any-“

“Yes, let me finish,
please…before I don’t want to tell you…” Momentarily Draco looked hurt, but
Harry went on.

“I…pricked my finger on its
tip-“

“Yes, I know, I saw so on the
floor this morning, and while you were touching my hand, you left a little.”
Harry looked shocked, he knew. Draco lowered his head. “Sorry…go on, then.”

“Er…then I…damnit, Draco, I
can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s…too hard. Okay, I was
contemplating…”

“Suicide?” Draco asked, a bit of
an accusatory tone to his faltering voice. With his eyes widening, Harry turned
his head sharply in the opposing direction and nodded. He felt two cold hands
slip around him.

“What’re you doing? Someone will
see,” he said, worried. He looked around the room; no one was paying them any
attention. Or so he thought.

“No one sees us…it’s okay,”
Draco whispered, pulling Harry closer a tur turned full face to look at him
again. The blonde placed his lips on the others, feeling him melt against him.

“See? It’s okay…” he murmured
against Harrys’ lips lightly. They continued their displays of affection as
low-key as they could until class was dismissed. Harry was feeling better
already until…



“Harry!” came a voice. Harry
spun around quickly, knocking into someone with liquid copper hair. His glasses
flew a few feet in front of him, and dove for them, searching blindly for them.
But, in a blur he saw kneeling before him a figure in grey, and a black article
of clothing shrouded him. They handed him his glasses, and in a low voice he
apologize, uncertain of whether he should’ve or not. He put his glasses on,
sighed in relief and stood.

“Ron?” Harry asked, not feeling
so odd about apologizing. Ron nodded, though it wasn’t a cheerful one.

“What the Hell do you think you
were doing with Malfoy in class?” he asked, his tone filled with malice. Harry’s
eyes widened; he was sure no one had seen them. Ron stepped closer, gathering a
fistful of Harry’s cloak in his hand. His eyes bore into Harry’s, searching
them; searching them deep; but what for?

“I…well, Ron…we…” he stuttered,
slightly perturbed by the fact Ron was not only angry about it, but also the
fact he was watching. How long had he watched? Did he just see them snogging in
a corner of his eye, or was he full on staring, his eyes feasting on the sight.
No, Ron despised Draco and Harry’s relationship. Things in the sort bothered
him immensely; he would not take to watching them, of all couples to see.

“You what? Everyone saw you. I
was just one out of the classroom. I’ll bet even Snape caught you two; stuck in
your own sick world, kissing like you two were the only ones in existence. What
you don’t know is when you closed your eyes in that moment of passion, and
Malfoys’ head was turned, the class saw you. Hermione was disappointed beyond
relief, and so am I, Harry.” Ron allowed Harry time to let his words settle,
his hands trembling with apparent anger, were still clutching at Harrys’ robes.
Why was Ron so angry? Since when had it become that great a concern of his? Had
the whole classroom been watching?

 

“No…” Harry shook his head
angrily, forcing himself out of Ron’s grasp, “no! You’re no one to control me,
Ron, and I’ll be damned if I let your attitude become my own. It’s not like you
didn’t know; Hell, you seemed fine with it the other day. All I can say is…you
should’ve expected it; you shouldn’t have been watching…”

Harry made
a run down the corridor, not stopping once until he reached the Gryffindor
common room. It would be nice to say Ron had followed him, and apologized, but
alas that was not the case as he sat alone on a couch, staring blankly at the
fire roaring in the fireplace. A couple of first years sat by the window, playing
a game or exploding snaps; they soon tired of this and he heard them zoom up
the stairs, quiet giggles and whispers. He stood slowly to his feet and walked
for the window, touching the glass and pulling his fingers back quickly; he
didn’t expect the criss-cross patterned windows to be so cool. His eyes
wandered around the sky; staring at the misting rain, distance in his cool
emerald eyes. A heavy sigh slipped from his lips and he slumped against the
wall, and suddenly, the Boy Who Lived began to sob uncontrollably, cradling
himself, and rocking silently on the cold, stony floor.

 

~~**~~

 

It was night and somehow Harry
wound up in his bed, he knew. He no longer felt hardness on his spine, nor did
he feel cold. He could feel, though, the familiar cool of thin sheets around
him, and a soft yet firm pillow beneath his head. His eyes opened to slivers
and he looked up at the canopy. His head jerked up in surprise, surveying the
room. These sheets were not made of silk, nor were they black. He could hear
breathing, shallow yet noisy. He looked to his right, and rather seeing blonde
hair, he saw the poster beds of 4 other boys. He saw trunks, papers, quills and
robes without Slytherin pendants scattered throughout the room. Before he
allowed himself to panic, he remembered he was in a safe place; in a room with
his room mates since 1st year. Hesitantly Harry lay back down, on
his back, staring once again at the canopy; a million thoughts flooded his
mind. How’d he get in his bed? Had someone carried him? Did he awake and bring
himself up here? Had he passed out in his bed earlier, and being on the floor in
the common room was imaginary?

 

Harry was finding it harder and
harder to sleep now-a-days. He never really did have a sleeping pattern, but he
knew it hadn’t always been this difficult to fall asleep. Maybe it was the
stress. The stress of the complications that came with seeing Malfoy, the stress
the came with having to catch up on homework; Ron’s behavi tow towards him
today, Hermione’s’ constant worry. He sighed audibly, and someone in the room
stirred in their bed. He didn’t look to see who, but shut his eyes, and ironically,
fell asleep almost instantly.

 

The body that had shifted in
their sleep wasn’t quite asleep; they rose from their bed and stealthily made
their way to Harry’s. They drew his curtains back, and let the moonlight pour
in over his face. The boy admired his figures in this light, and hovered a hand
over Harry’s face. Lightly they let a finger touch his cheek, and trail along
his jaw line; Harry sighed and moved a bit, sending the intruder back a bit. Harry
was mumbling something in his sleep. Something that sounded a lot like ‘Malfoy’. The boy on his bed chuckled
softly, and shook his head.

“No, Harry; not Malfoy,” the boy said, his accent adding a
drawl to the words. Then, looking around and making sure his eyes were still
closed, they lowered themselves so their faces were leveled.

“You’ll think my touching you
was all a dream, when you wake, Harry”, he said, his lips brushing against
Harry’s. Still sleeping Harry let out a soft moan, his hand slipping underneath
the sheets. The boy watched interested as he saw Harry’s hand moving up and
down, stroking something; even in the dark the boys smile was obvious. He
pressed his lips lightly against Harry’s own, parted lips; and then deeper. He
even went so far as to slide his tongue along his bottom lip, sending shivers
through Harry.

“Sleep well, Harry. Know someone
besides Malfoy loves you.” The boy got up and snuck back to his bed, watching
Harry for a moment before drawing his own curtains again. And in his sleep Harry shivered, suddenly
colder from the abrupt loss of another person’s body warmth. He pulled the
sheets up to his chin, and his eyes shot open.

‘…someone besides Malfoy loves you…’

‘…someone besides Malfoy loves you…’


 

~~**~~

 

“I had the weirdest dream ever last night,” Harry said to
Hermione as he grabbed a piece of toast. Ron had not yet joined them, and for
that he was rather grateful.

“Really? What happened?” she asked, her voice clouded with
concern. Harry had a feeling she would run off to the library to pull out the ‘Big
Book of Dreams’. She could even go to Prof. Trelawney, but he knew there’s been
turmoil between them since 3rd year, and even if it were the same
book in her possession as the one in the library, Hermione would turn it down,
and go through the day searching for it elsewhere.

“I…dreamed someone had joined me in my bed, other than
Malfoy,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, “and…they were kissing me;
lightly, but they were still kissing me. They told me when I awoke, I’d say it
were a dream,” and he paused, looking up around the table. His eyes scanned
from Dean, who was chattering on about some joke, to Neville, whose eyes were
on his plate, though it were empty, making no noise, to Seamus, whose eyes he
met momentarily, but they quickly dropped to his hands, and then he joined in the
laughter with Dean and the rest of the boys.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, waving a hand before her friends distracted
eyes.

“Hm, oh, yes? Oh, yes, as I was saying,” she eyed him, “it
had to have been someone in…my room, because I didn’t hear any foot steps nor
did I hear the door open or close…”, and his voice turned into a mumble; a
rambling of things ranging from who it could’ve been, how it could’ve happened
and…

“Harry, all of your thoughts would be wonderful and helpful
if this were some murder case,” he scoffed, “but, maybe it was just a dream.” He shook his head.

“They told me to sleep well knowing someone other than
Malfoy loved me.” Across the table a pair of wet green eyes looked up; Harry
hadn’t lowered his voice, and Seamus heard him. Harry and Hermione went on
talking about it when Ron came to join them. They did not fall silent as to not
make Ron feel uneasy, but they did change topic. Ron sat down and grabbed an
apple, chatting cheerily to everyone at the table, even Harry.

Except for
one boy, who was exiting the Great Hall with quick feet and agility, making out
of the door before it shut from Rons’ entering.

 

 

---

 

A/N: Hope
you liked this chapter.

[.sigh.] I
don’t think I’ll be updating much since no one seems to be reading this
anymore.

It was fun
at first but I seem to be losing all interest and inspiration.

So, to my
avid readers [.small smile.] I apologize, and I will be updating…just not as
much as I should be, or was.

Sorry to
those who care.

Goodbye for
now.