Ambivalent Lucidity

Harry raged through the common room, silent save for the low growling in his chest as he stomped through and slammed the portrait behind him on his way down the Tower. His fists clenched painfully at his sides as he fought with himself internally, feeling one side wanting to turn around and flee back up the stairs to throw Draco down on the mattress to ravage him. The other side, however, was proving to be stronger in its resolve to get away from what made him uncomfortable with himself, and that side was stamping his feet on the cobblestone floors all the way to Dumbledore’s office.

It was raining out. The wind was whipping the rain against the windowpanes, so forceful that the windows were straining to come loose. Nevertheless, Harry could hear his heart pounding, could hear his breaths—short and quick, panicked—heating the air before him. That was the real Draco kissing him like that, kissing him without even asking or stopping to think about what Harry might think of it! What could he have been thinking?! If this was the way things were going to be now, Harry could not do this. He needed a break, even if just for a day, but the thought of Draco coming back to do that, the thing he knew he secretly desired but never, ever thought would ever happen, made him sick to his stomach. “I can’t do this; I can’t do this,” he panted to himself as he began to jog down the corridors to the gargoyle.

Draco felt like committing suicide as he saw Harry flee. What had he been thinking? There was no way in hell Harry would have wanted that, and when confronted with what he was doing, Draco had panicked, had become snarky, had fucked it up royally. Groaning, Draco snatched Harry’s pillow and buried his face into the softness, Harry’s scent floating all around him, and he hated himself for the tears he felt sting his eyes. He had it all wrong, he took Harry’s kindness and sense of responsibility for fondness, for genuine caring, but Harry was just being nice, helpful, and now he would never be any of that. Draco decided that he should not care, that it was not even his fault—it was his damned disorder—and that he could forget it ever happened.

Why did he feel so rejected? He yelled into Harry’s pillow and punched the bed, not caring that he was soaking the pillow in his stupid tears.

Harry stood at the gargoyle for a full half-hour, screaming all types of candies at it before it finally gave way at the mention of Licorice Wands, and as the stair opened for him, he hurried up. The half hour he stood there, he became only angrier at himself for letting it go this far and at Draco for being so presumptuous. He had forgotten that, not that long ago, he had been writhing on his bed at the thought of Draco—that was irrelevant—and he made sure that memory was not in his mind as he burst into the Headmaster’s office without knocking. “Ah, Harry, I was expecting you. I heard you accosting my gargoyle—I thought Licorice Wands were pretty standard fare for students!” he exclaimed cheerfully, and he waved to the chair before his desk. “Do you fancy a biscuit? Or are there more pressing matters?”

“I can’t do this, Professor,” Harry spat out nastily as he threw himself into the chair. “I need... I don’t know, I need a break, time to myself... Someone else needs to take care of him! I’m not even suited for this! I’m not doing anything for him; fuck, I’m making it worse!” He slammed his hands down on the front of Dumbledore’s desk, shaking now with the thoughts that were swimming through him. Where would that encounter have gone if he had not stopped Draco? Would they be kissing now, tangled in one another on the bed? No, no, no!

Dumbledore laced his fingers beneath his chin and watched Harry’s struggle with himself, watching him as he tugged at his own hair, squirmed, lost himself in thoughts, and he smiled. “I think a break can be arranged, Harry, don’t be so concerned, but if you are looking for a permanent break from Mister Malfoy... Harry, it would be a terrible shame to lose him. Has he not proved himself to be, even in his current state, pleasant company? I have not been blind to the bond formed between you even in this short time...Professor Snape has been very, ah, disciplined about watching you and reporting back to me every small detail, I’m afraid.” He sounded very disappointed, and he leaned back a bit. “I suppose I have been proven wrong several times in the recent past, but seeing you give up this challenge so quickly... I confess myself shocked.”

Harry stared at him, dumbfounded that he could say such a thing, and he shot back, “You don’t know what it’s like, not knowing which Draco you’re talking to, not knowing if you’ll even be talking to the same person in ten seconds! I can’t deal with this all the time. I can’t deal with being forced to watch him suffer like this, every day waking up as someone different. When it IS Draco, I don’t even know how to act around him, I—” He cut himself off with a heavy sigh, and he hid his face in his hands. “Please?”

Albus sighed and took a moment to gaze out the window. “I will see to it that you have some alone time, Harry, and while you have it, I suggest that you take the time to think about how Draco feels. I believe he is in dire need of a Pensieve with all those people in his mind, crowding him into a corner... Luckily, you’re the expert on getting yourself out of corners,” he mused, and when Harry sank lower into his chair, he heaved another sigh. “He’ll be gone by tonight.”

When Harry returned to the common room that evening—he had taken time to himself so that he would not have to endure seeing Draco plead to stay—he was met with congratulations and pats on the back. “Good job, mate,” Ron laughed, and he threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You did the right thing... We’ve hardly had any time for.. .anything! We’ll fly every day this week!” Harry gave him a weak smile and nodded; he could not help but feel like an arse, and seeing Hermione glowering at him did nothing to ease the feeling.

As he made to pass her, feeling exhausted, she grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged him close to her. “Listen to me, Harry James Potter,” she growled, looking more dangerous by the moment. “You can leave Draco to drown in himself and simply watch, but I will not stand by you while you do it. I thought you were more mature than this! Are you still so caught up on... on childish anger that you can’t see that he needs your help?!” Her voice was rising as she spoke, silencing the rest of the common room as they all turned to listen.

“Damn it, Hermione!” Harry snapped, feeling himself on the brink on an explosion. “You think you know everything, don’t you!? You think you know what happened in there? How the fuck could you have any inkling what I’m going though?! You have a perfect fucking life with a perfect boyfriend and a perfect family and everything just works out for you in the fucking end, doesn’t it?!” He could hear Ron advancing on him, ready to defend his girlfriend, and he took a step back from her, voice amplifying to such an extent that he could hear it echoing up the staircases. “So you‘ve been called a FUCKING Mudblood; well, BLOODY HELL, I’m shocked you’re not still crying over that one! You have NO CLUE WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH, so SHUT YOUR DAMNED MOUTH!”

Everyone in the common room was staring at the pair, eyes wide in shock as Hermione threw her hand back and slapped Harry across the face. “You... You insensitive prat!” she growled, tears dribbling from her eyes and dripping from her chin. Ron made his way over to her and started to reach for her, but she pushed him away. “NO, Ron! Harry, how do you think Draco feels? He can remember what happened! You can’t even remember Lily getting killed, but Draco... Do you even know how they found them?!” She leaned in close and, shaking, whispered, “They found him covered in her blood, trying to resuscitate her even though half her head was gone!” She gave him a nasty shove backwards and shook her head in disgust, gathering her things quickly. “You know why he came to you, Harry? Because of everything else in his life, YOU were consistent! You’d always be the same, and BY GOD, he was right! You’re still the insensitive shit you were seven years ago!”

Harry stared after her as she stomped up to the dormitory, ignoring the nasty glares he was receiving from Ron, and he moved to head upstairs himself, cheek aching. He had never considered Draco’s situation like that, thought about what the scene must have looked like when Narcissa killed herself before Draco. He could nearly hear Draco’s knees hitting the floor, see the tears flood his cheeks as he realised that he would never speak to his mother again, feel the desperation as Draco attempted to bring her back to life regardless of the fact that her brain was oozing out of her skull. He felt sick, he hated himself; he wanted to cry. “What have I done...?”

The next morning at breakfast, Harry tried not to make eye contact with Draco, who was seated with a very grumpy Terry Boot at the Ravenclaw table. He wondered why no one in Slytherin had offered, then he looked over to Slytherin to see Pansy Parkinson mimicking Draco’s panic attacks and he understood. Draco was staring at him, looking betrayed and hurt as he picked at his bacon and sausages and occasionally shot Boot a nasty glare. He looked exhausted—Harry suspected that he had not slept at all the night before—and when he glanced up at Harry, he put his fork down and put his head on his arms on the table. Boot rolled his eyes and shot a nasty look to Harry before he got up and went to the Head table. It was no small wonder that Draco was with someone different that afternoon.

Harry had had an entire day to himself by the time dinner rolled around, and even though most of his housemates were thrilled and trying to engage him in their activities, Ron and Hermione were angry with him, and he was miserable. He sat down at his table to find Draco sitting by himself at the end of the Hufflepuff table, appearing shaky and ill as he poked at his mashed potatoes. Harry sighed and was just about to get up and sit with him when Draco froze and, a second later, looked around wildly in a panic. “Get away from me!” he screeched in to the Great Hall, causing a silence to fall over all the students, and they all stared at him as he pushed back from the table and scrambled back against one of the walls. “I have nothing more to give you! I... I-I-” He cut himself off with an earsplitting scream, looked around again, then his eyes locked on Harry, who was rising from his seat and beginning to move after him. “He won’t stop until he’s killed both of us!” This scream caused the Great Hall’s attention to swivel to Harry, who sighed and ignored the fact that Snape and Dumbledore were making their way towards Draco to hurry to him himself and take him by the wrist.

“Come on,” he said quietly, not even slightly embarrassed as the touch caused Draco to burst into tears and collapse against him, and he shook his head at his professors before he escorted him out of the Great Hall and over to the staircase. He sat down with him and heaved a heavy sigh as Draco clung to his middle, shaking and sick. They sat in silence until Harry felt Draco give a nasty jolt, and he looked down to him to find the real Draco swiping the tears from his eyes and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “You all right now?”

“FUCK you, Potter!” Draco yelled, moving away from him and wrapping his arms around his knees, shivering. “What the FUCK did I do to deserve being abandoned like that!? Do you know what I WENT through last night?! I didn’t get any sleep—I was having panic attacks all goddamned night, and all the fucking Ravenclaws were screaming at me for it and... just... What the FUCK, Potter?!” He was beginning to cry again, his eyes welling up with tears and his cheeks flushing, and he buried his face in his knees to sob very audibly.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed before saying, “You freaked me out, okay? What was I supposed to think? What would you have done if I did that to you?! I needed a break, time to think about things, okay? You were kissing me, Malfoy! I feel completely justified in freaking out!”

“I th-thought you wanted me to!” Draco stuttered from his knees, voice muffled by his trousers, and he shook his head. Harry looked at him in a state of shock and blinked dumbly, incapable of speaking all of a sudden, and he sighed as Draco lifted his head and swiped angrily at his tears. “Fine. I’ll give you your goddamned time to think! I’ll... I’ll stay in the Hospital Wi—”

As Draco was mouthing off and beginning to stand, Harry grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “No, you won’t stay in the Hospital Wing,” he sighed, and slowly, he pulled Draco back down onto the stair. “You can stay with me, but... no more of, you know, that.” He cursed himself for blushing, but Draco did not seem to notice, instead burying his face in his hands. Okay?” Harry asked tentatively, and when Draco nodded, shoulders shaking, he slipped an arm around Draco’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “All right then. Let’s go finish dinner, and we’ll... Malfoy?” He found himself smiling just a little as Draco leaned heavily against him, eyes closed and mouth slack. “Let’s get you to bed...”