Run to Me

Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were it would be canon.
Notes: For contrelamontre\'s non-song songfic challenge. Done in 80 minutes. The song is \"Run to Me\" by Clay Aiken, and lyrics used are at the end.

~~~~~~~

“Don’t, you don’t have to save my life,” Draco pleaded.

“I want to. I need to. I’m ready to,” Harry responded, his hands gliding across Draco’s smooth skin.

“No, you’re not ready. I can feel it,” he replied, pushing Harry away.

“But I am, ready. Outside,” Harry said, his hands gliding down his own chest, “it’s raining, but here,” he held his hand to his heart, “it’s calm and I’m ready for this.”

“You’re not ready, Harry. For Merlin’s sake you just called out his name. How do you expect me to believe that?”

Harry sighed, getting up and bitterly pulling on his robes, “I’ll just go home. Is that what you want?”

Draco nodded, “It’s for the best.” Don’t go, he thought, I don’t want you to leave. But I can’t have you as long as your heart isn’t in it.

Harry nodded glumly as he strode towards the door, slamming it shut behind him, blocking Draco’s final statement, “Someday your heart will let him go, and as soon as you get that feeling, I’m here.”

~~~~

Draco slid under the covers, his smooth, pale flesh warm against the cool of the sheets. He hated the feel of cotton, but Harry couldn’t stand silk. And he wanted Harry to be happy. There were many things he had wanted to say to Harry, but knew that he wouldn’t listen.

He had wanted to tack on, “You can start to live again, Harry, as soon as you let go,” But Harry had already left. The worst is over, he reminded himself, the war is over, you can make it all make sense. You can figure out what he needs.

“He needs Ron,” Draco said out loud to the empty room, his thoughts escaping, his mind arguing with itself.

The war had been bad, taken many lives. Harry had lost his best friend, his lover, his confidant, and the one that made him feel safe at night. Right now I can’t give you what you need, he thought, I can’t bring him back. I can’t bring back Ron. It just isn’t possible.

Draco had tried, a million and one different ways. The closest he’d been to being successful was the night after Ron had passed away. Harry had been laying in his tent, the one that he and Ron had shared all through the war, tears running down his red cheeks, sobs escaping with each breath; his whole body convulsing in fear and anger and a hundred other unidentifiable emotions.

Draco had found him like that, a pillow pressed to his chest, tears soaking the pillow. He could hear the boy mumbling something over and over again, “As soon as you get the feeling, run to me…”

“What feeling would that be Potter?” he had asked, gingerly sitting down on the bed next to him, his hand automatically attempting to brush back the mess of hair atop the boy’s head.

Harry looked at him dazedly, blinking away the tears, or attempting to. “Malfoy? What do you want?” he stammered.

“Hush, you don’t have to say a word,” Draco responded his voice soft and calming, his hand now stroking Harry’s hair. “I just want to help.”

Harry nodded, unsure of how Malfoy, his once enemy could possibly know what he needed. Recognition dawned in his eyes as he saw Draco pluck a single red hair from the pillow. “This Ron’s?” he asked. Harry nodded biting his lip.

“Very well then,” Draco said, getting up and leaving the tent, hair in hand. Harry lay there for moments on end, waiting, wondering what it was Draco had up his sleeve. Or if that was really it; if Draco had just come in there to take away his last piece of Ron. Sure there would always be reminders, always be something of Ron’s he could cling to, but that hair was the last piece of him.

Harry heard the flap of the tent rustle, heard someone murmur a silencing charm and cast a number of other charms. He wasn’t sure whether to fear for his life or rejoice at the idea that he might soon join Ron again. The figure stepped into the light, into Harry’s line of sight. Harry stiffened as he saw Ron approach him. “But, but you’re dead…” Harry muttered.

“It’s Malfoy,” Ron said. “I thought this would help. A chance to give him a proper farewell.”

A smile spread across Harry’s face, though his eyes were tinged with guilt and sorrow. Draco sat down next to him on the bed once more, this time brushing red hair out of his own eyes. He leant down and kissed Harry on the lips, tasting the salty tears. He licked them off, his mouth and tongue moving across Harry’s face, cleaning up the tears.

“I won’t have you crying,” Draco said. “Trust me, don’t hate me.” he asked, his hands sliding down Harry’s arms, stopping and gripping his wrists before pulling them above the boy’s head and clasping them both in one hand. He cast a charm, binding them together

Harry nodded, “I’m not going to hate you for it, for this. Kiss me.”

Draco took Harry’s mouth with Ron’s once more. It felt so odd to be doing something he’d wanted to do for years. Something so unattainable to him before, something so forbidden, something he was only able to do in the form of another.

He traced every last inch of Harry’s body with his hands, with his mouth, with his tongue, causing the boy beneath him to writhe and moan, calling out his dead lover’s name, “Ron.”

He made love to Harry that night. It was that for both of them, though it was Ron that Harry loved and not Draco. As they reached orgasm, Draco felt the changes begin to take over him. The red hair and freckled skin fading to flaxen silver and pale cream. His hands still traced the contours of Harry’s form, memorizing them, unsure when he’d next get to feel him.

Harry opened his eyes to see the blonde above him, and started crying once more, this time with more emotion, a deeper sense of loss. “Feels like my touch only brings back the pain,” Draco said, kissing Harry on the forehead as he withdrew from the boy, releasing his hands from the restraints.

Harry clung to him, sobbing against his bare shoulder for what felt like hours. Draco did his best to comfort him, but knew he couldn’t give Harry what he needed. He couldn’t really bring Ron back, nor did he want to. He wanted Harry for himself, as impossible as he knew it was.

“Someday those memories will fade away, Harry. When they do, I’ll be here as soon as you get that feeling,” he said, kissing Harry one last time. “You can start to live again, even if he can’t. I can’t do this for you again, but when you’re ready for me, let me know.”

Harry nodded, his fingers rising to his lips as he watched the visage before him fade.

~Fin~


Lyrics to “Run to Me” by Clay Aiken

Don\'t, You don\'t have to save my life
No, You\'re not ready I can feel it
Outside it\'s raining, but I\'ll just go home
Someday your heart will let him go.

As soon as you get that feeling
You can start to live again
As soon as the worst is over
You can make it all make sense
Rigt now I can\'t give you what you need
As soon as you get the feeling...
Run To Me.

Hush, You do hav have to say a word.
Trust, I\'m not going to hate you for it.
Feels like my touch only brings back the pain
Someday those memories will fade away

As soon as you get that feeling
You can start to live again
As soon as the worst is over
You can make it all make sense
Right Now, I can\'t give you what you need
As soon as you that feeling...
Run To Me.