Pulling Me Home

A/N: The beginning of the song “Think of You” by A Fine Frenzy inspired this. I heard it on the radio and the first verse brought this whole story to my mind. Kinda odd but there it is. I tried to work the lyrics into the beginning of the story so go have listen to the song as well! It's rather pretty. I also stole “ditto” from the epic movie Ghost :-b. Which in hindsight I guess could also be an inspiration for this story but I'm just now realizing that after I wrote it lol go figure.

Pulling Me Home

It feels like a hundred degrees as Harry stands in the crowded room feeling like he has no room to breath. He briefly glances around, such hard faces set in stone. It's a bad time to be alone, but that's the way it goes.

He diverts his eyes back to the stormy gray that refuses to look away from him. His throat constricts and he has to physically grip the edge of his chair to stop himself from running to them. He could curse them all. Kill them all and run away with his angel. He could. The burning hatred in the pit of his stomach confirms it. He would. It scares him how sure he is that he would. But gray eyes won't let him. How ironic that the man they have condemned to death is the one man stopping all of theirs. It's ironic, but not the amusing kind.

Harry sifts in his seat. He can't look, he doesn't want to. But how can he look away? How can he abandon his lover now? Harry is all he has left. Everyone else has betrayed him. The world has let him down. Let them both down.

“He's innocent!” Harry's voice had become hoarse a thousand screams ago.

“Can't you blind fools see that!” he feels tears prick his eyes as he looks at all the accusing faces. They shake their heads at him. They think he's the fool, they think he has it wrong.

“He has the dark mark, Harry. That's all it takes.” Harry doesn't even notice whose voice it is that whispers the words. He's too blinded by rage.

“You are all just like them! No better than the people you are so quick to judge. No better than Voldemort was. I wish I had never saved any of you!”

Tears are falling from his eyes now and his voice breaks on the last word. But who the hell cares. He's failed.

He turns to leave and a hand reaches out, grabbing on to his. He doesn't even look at the face as he whispers.

“I hope the next one wins.”

Harry lets out a chocked sob as The Minister steps up to Draco. He can't watch, he just can't. He sends the gray eyes an apologetic and heartbreaking look before he squeezes his own shut.

“What do you want to do today?” Harry asks, keeping his voice as neutral as he can manage. He hears a small laugh. It isn't bitter, it isn't even sad, it's simply resigned.

“Well considering I can't leave the house, I guess I'll have to make due with fucking your brains out.”

“Draco.” Harry turns in the bed to face the beautiful face of his lover.

“We don't have to do it. You don't have to turn yourself in. We can go away. Please.” Harry begs and he can feel his face scrunch up as desperate tears start to fall.

“Don't” the soft voice mumbled, reaching up to wipe away the salty trails.

“We promised today would be the last day. We can't keep doing this. Hiding is too hard, Harry. I'm tired.”

And in that moment Draco looks older than Harry has ever seen him. The deep purple under his eyes stand in stark contrast to his pale skin. The thin lines around his eyes and mouth are out of place for his age and his once creamy porcelain skin has becomes almost translucent. And Harry knows he's right. It's not fair, it's not fair to ask Draco to continue hiding, continue fighting. It's not his fault after all. He's done nothing wrong.

“I love you.” and for the first time in Harry's life those words don't feel adequate enough. He always believed that love conquered all. It was suppose to be his secret weapon. But it couldn't save the one person he couldn't live without. The only person that mattered.

Draco smiled and for a second his appearance matched his physical age.

“Ditto.” he grinned playfully and leaned in for a kiss, his hand moving teasingly up Harry's bare thigh.

“Draco Malfoy, do you have any last words?” I gruff voice asked and Harry would have laughed at the cliché if he was able to breathe.

There is a short pause and then his voice whispers gently but firmly.

“Look at me.”

Harry's eyes slowly opened and once again connected with gray.

“Just to put your mind at ease, you don't owe me anything. You paid me well in memories.”

Harry knew without looking that everyone in the room was straining to understand what was being said, but they were too far away. He was the only one brave enough to sit so close to the last remaining convicted Death Eater.

Harry stood up, his legs shaking. He grabbed the medal bar in front of him. He wanted to say something. He wanted to scream, he wanted to explode. This pain was surprisingly foreign to him. How could he have lost so many people and not even come close to feeling the agony he felt in this moment?

“I love you.” Draco mouthed and for the first time Harry wasn't the only one crying. Draco had never said those words to him.

“Ditto.” Harry gasped back, the little air left in his lungs leaving his mouth with a puff.

Draco laughed, the sound coming out broken as his chest heaved and his vision became blurry.

They stared at each other, lost in the other's presence. And the cruel world was momentarily lost around them the way it was suppose to be.

He vaguely saw a wand flourish through the air and in the next second green sparks blasted towards Draco, crashing into his fragile chest.

Harry watched as his beloved gray eyes lost all life. The same gray eyes that hours earlier had stared down at him filled with lust and love and passion. The same gray eyes that moments before had silently sent him a message that it wasn't over, that this wasn't the end. And suddenly Harry felt childishly stupid. How could he have thought that mere human beings could have taken Draco from him? That simple mortals could have defied fate and stolen the love that they had shared? It seems preposterous now.

“Of course it is your moronic Gryffindor. Do you really think these people could keep me away from your delicious arse?”

Harry wanted to laugh, wanted to jump for joy. He could feel it, all of it, and it was a million times stronger. Even as he stared at the unmoving body on the hard floor, it didn't matter. He could feel his Draco.

And that night as Harry held his wand to his own chest with a smile, his eyes slowly slipping shut to a world of gray, he knew it would be okay. Because maybe love did conquer all. And right now it was pulling him home.