Quick H/D drabble-thing
Jul. 20th, 2007 01:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gin_tonicI couldn't help myself ... I just had to write something small before DH comes out. So here is:
Title: The Frosted Window
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: more G than PG
Warnings: ---
Wordcount: 696
Notes: after HBP *sniff*
Grimmauld Place was quiet for once, a fact that Harry relished deeply. He wandered through deserted hallways, brushed past portraits that covered the walls and muttered in their sleep. Sometimes they talked, like Mrs Black, about the former owners of this house, sometimes about what their world, the wizarding world, had become, but generally Harry didn’t pause long enough to listen to them.
Not that they were talking at all in the night.
No, the night was quiet and allowed Harry a freedom that he seldom had nowadays: to be alone. The search for the Horcruxes proved to be even more difficult than what he had gone through with Dumbledore and Hermione, Ron and he had already been close to kicking the bucket a couple of times. In fact Hermione was still not allowed to get out of the bed in order to heal properly after that nasty bear trap hex had got her.
At least they had got Hufflepuff’s cup now. It lay next to the destroyed locket in one of the late Kreacher’s hidey-holes, while the snake and something of Gryffindors or Ravenclaws were still missing.
Harry sighed and looked up, only to find his favourite thinking spot in front of one of the huge windows that looked towards the street occupied.
“Hey.” He said in greeting and stepped closer. The other didn’t turn around, but Harry knew anyway who he was facing here. The slivery blond hair was a clear giveaway, but he would have known even if he was blind. He always knew when Malfoy was around him, could make out his sandalwood scent everywhere, could pick out his way of breathing out of a mass of people. Malfoy was unique – at least to him.
“Hi.” Malfoy’s voice was quiet – had been since he arrived here battered and bruised, his clothes not much more than torn rags. It was nearly as if he was afraid that his voice might trigger something. Then again one could never know in war.
Harry had been the one to let Malfoy in. He had found him on the doorstep and had carried him inside, despite the Weasleys’ and Moody’s protests. He had seen on the tower that Malfoy had lowered his wand and that he wouldn’t have killed Dumbledore. He had heard Malfoy say that he and his parents would be killed if he didn’t succeed. In the end his mother hadn’t survived and his father was slowly going mad in Azkaban – but Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel sorrow about the latter.
Harry didn’t ask if Malfoy was alright because really none of them was, just sat down next to him and stared out of the window.
“It’s a starry night.” He said instead and touched the frosty window. It was the end of November and frost was settling all over the country. The Dementors that were swarming around, seeking new victims were making everything worse.
“Yes. It’s a nice change.” The past weeks had been marked by clouds, rain and darkness; evil even influenced the skies.
Harry tried not to think of the next morning, fleeing into the realm of the timeless seeming night. At night you could at least pretend that you had just woken up from a nightmare and that really everything was fine. That Sirius hadn’t died more than one and a half years ago and that he would be waiting in the kitchen, hanging over his coffee, asking Harry if he was up for a round of Quidditch later. And Dumbledore would be there, conversing quietly with Lupin, who would not be off to spy amongst the werewolves, while Molly would be cooking, singing along to the music playing in the kitchen. She wouldn’t have lost her smile then. And Ron and Hermione –
No, it was no good dwelling on something that would never come true anyway. Harry glanced at Malfoy and saw that he was shivering.
“You’re cold.” He said and couldn’t help to give in to the need to put his arm around the other. Malfoy stiffened briefly, then sighed and relaxed into his embrace, resting his head onto Harry’s shoulder.
”Yes.” he said and closed his eyes.
Title: The Frosted Window
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: more G than PG
Warnings: ---
Wordcount: 696
Notes: after HBP *sniff*
Grimmauld Place was quiet for once, a fact that Harry relished deeply. He wandered through deserted hallways, brushed past portraits that covered the walls and muttered in their sleep. Sometimes they talked, like Mrs Black, about the former owners of this house, sometimes about what their world, the wizarding world, had become, but generally Harry didn’t pause long enough to listen to them.
Not that they were talking at all in the night.
No, the night was quiet and allowed Harry a freedom that he seldom had nowadays: to be alone. The search for the Horcruxes proved to be even more difficult than what he had gone through with Dumbledore and Hermione, Ron and he had already been close to kicking the bucket a couple of times. In fact Hermione was still not allowed to get out of the bed in order to heal properly after that nasty bear trap hex had got her.
At least they had got Hufflepuff’s cup now. It lay next to the destroyed locket in one of the late Kreacher’s hidey-holes, while the snake and something of Gryffindors or Ravenclaws were still missing.
Harry sighed and looked up, only to find his favourite thinking spot in front of one of the huge windows that looked towards the street occupied.
“Hey.” He said in greeting and stepped closer. The other didn’t turn around, but Harry knew anyway who he was facing here. The slivery blond hair was a clear giveaway, but he would have known even if he was blind. He always knew when Malfoy was around him, could make out his sandalwood scent everywhere, could pick out his way of breathing out of a mass of people. Malfoy was unique – at least to him.
“Hi.” Malfoy’s voice was quiet – had been since he arrived here battered and bruised, his clothes not much more than torn rags. It was nearly as if he was afraid that his voice might trigger something. Then again one could never know in war.
Harry had been the one to let Malfoy in. He had found him on the doorstep and had carried him inside, despite the Weasleys’ and Moody’s protests. He had seen on the tower that Malfoy had lowered his wand and that he wouldn’t have killed Dumbledore. He had heard Malfoy say that he and his parents would be killed if he didn’t succeed. In the end his mother hadn’t survived and his father was slowly going mad in Azkaban – but Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel sorrow about the latter.
Harry didn’t ask if Malfoy was alright because really none of them was, just sat down next to him and stared out of the window.
“It’s a starry night.” He said instead and touched the frosty window. It was the end of November and frost was settling all over the country. The Dementors that were swarming around, seeking new victims were making everything worse.
“Yes. It’s a nice change.” The past weeks had been marked by clouds, rain and darkness; evil even influenced the skies.
Harry tried not to think of the next morning, fleeing into the realm of the timeless seeming night. At night you could at least pretend that you had just woken up from a nightmare and that really everything was fine. That Sirius hadn’t died more than one and a half years ago and that he would be waiting in the kitchen, hanging over his coffee, asking Harry if he was up for a round of Quidditch later. And Dumbledore would be there, conversing quietly with Lupin, who would not be off to spy amongst the werewolves, while Molly would be cooking, singing along to the music playing in the kitchen. She wouldn’t have lost her smile then. And Ron and Hermione –
No, it was no good dwelling on something that would never come true anyway. Harry glanced at Malfoy and saw that he was shivering.
“You’re cold.” He said and couldn’t help to give in to the need to put his arm around the other. Malfoy stiffened briefly, then sighed and relaxed into his embrace, resting his head onto Harry’s shoulder.
”Yes.” he said and closed his eyes.
