Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Art of Shadow Boxing	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11212 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any charactors from the books and I am not making any money off of this

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 25
Awake My Soul

"So...you're alive then?"

I glance up with a little laugh at the carefree way Caleb voices his concern, watching him as he leans against the archway leading into my kitchen, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes raking up and down my body. He may sound lite hearted but I know better, I know he was worried, is worried, his fist pounding on my door nearly the moment I was back.

It was probably a good thing I was in the shower then, washing away all the blood and sweat and some of the lingering evidence of my torture. All except the knife wound and the drawn ruin on my chest that has been burnt into my skin, marking me for who knows how long until it fades.

If it fades.

I had stayed under the hot spray tracing it over and over again, like the action would rub it away but of course it never did - would probably still be there trying to force it off if it wasn't for Harry's lips on my shoulder and his fingers replacing my own on my flesh. He's good at making me forget, if only for a while, if only during the slow languid kisses under the water - my body too wrecked for anything more despite the desire to bend him into myself and lose all sense of anything but him. Instead we had stood there, holding each other, mumbling against each other’s lips - words of comfort, reassurance, and promise. Words that would have terrified me just a few short days ago.

He had scrubbed the blood out of my hair with massaging fingers and peppered my face with kisses, whispering my name like it was grounding himself and I had closed my eyes and let myself be grounded as well.

Let the image of Safiya's dying face wash down the drain with the pink water.

"You look alive, if a bit battered." Caleb continues, stopping his roving eye on Harry's hands that are carefully wrapping a length of tan bandage around my forearm where I cut myself. Harry wasn't able to heal it completely, neither was Granger, something about the cost of blood magic and the power in the knife. "Don't tell me, you got into a fight with your knife drawer?"

"Something like that." I smile, wincing slightly as Harry finishes and secures the bandage. "Have you heard from the Madame?" I hedge, trying to figure out if news of her death has gotten out yet. Harry had spent a good while altering the memories of all the people who were in the building before taking a bound Alecto to Weasley and Granger to be transported back to London.

Bella didn't make it. I didn't ask how or why and neither did he ask the details of my fight with Safiya. But I don't begrudge him for not sparing my Aunt just as he doesn't cast a critical eye on me for what I did. Truth be told, I'm glad she's gone, glad that all the people bent on turning me inside out are forever out of reach of me.

It was strange though, staring down into her wide eyes, stuck forever in a look of surprise and madness. It's strange to think I'll never have to fear her again, or hear her voice or laugh, that she'll be banished to my nightmares and my nightmares alone. Seems an unfitting end for anyone, to be cast forever in darkness.

Perhaps I should be sad, she was my blood, my family, but I'm not and I can tell that Harry isn't either. And I love him a little bit more for that.

I don't know what happened to their bodies, I'm not sure I want to know. Granger had placed a hand on my shoulder, gave it a light squeeze with a small sad smile before disappearing into the room with Harry - Safiya and Bella were gone when they reemerged.

"Funny you should ask." Caleb ruffles his mousy brown hair and grins. "She's vanished. Cancelled her party the other night and then a few days later...gone." He shrugs. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that now would you?" He asks far too innocently, his gaze bouncing unhurriedly back and forth between Harry and me.

Harry had answered the door after we realized that the pounding wasn't going to go away, letting me finish up, hoping that the longer I stayed under the heat, the better my body would feel. Yet I had felt oddly disconnected to my own flesh as it beat into me – all I could think was that the water on the tile had looked oddly white running down the shower wall, clearer then I remember it being before.
My fingers had shook just slightly on the buttons of my shirt as I pulled the fabric carefully over the fiery burn of my chest - a new mark.
Seems I'll forever be branded in some way.

Caleb had stared at me for a good solid minute before saying anything when I finally emerged, his mouth slightly open like he was going to ask a question that took too long in coming. I couldn't help but wonder how much he knew just by looking at me. Caleb has been by my side fight after fight, he's seen me at my worst physically, he knows what exhaustion and pain looks like on me.

And I remember the image I made in the mirror - sunken purple eyes, red skin, wrists raw, and a faint twitch in my jaw that hasn't stopped its spasm yet. A lovely side effect of extended contact with the Cruciatus curse. My gray eyes had seemed a different shade than I'm used to as well, like the pigment has been singed and forever changed - they were darker in the center, lighter around the edges, and all together strange to look at.

Who knows though, maybe I'm imagining things, still trying to figure out just what exactly happened when I was under Bella's cursed ritual. It's all a muddle, one I'm unsure if I'll ever be able to work through.

Or maybe I was looking to see if the spark was gone as another mark to carry around with me for taking Safiya's life.

Unfortunately the mirror gave me no answers or consolation.

"Not a thing." I reply, lifting a glass of water to my chapped lips and letting it slide down my parched throat, thankful that the rumors are spreading already. Of course Caleb won't be one to believe them, not completely, not with the timing of our disappearance and the sight of me now. But he won't say a word against us, of that I'm sure.

Getting away with murder is an interesting feeling.

Caleb laughs a little and shakes his head. "Right, too busy fucking I'm sure."

"Something like that." Harry parrots me and I can't help but blush even though it's so ridiculously far from the truth as Caleb laughs louder and Harry winks blatantly at me.

If only that was the truth.

"Well Donnie's ecstatic." Caleb muses as I hop off the counter top, tugging the sleeve of my shirt down and over the long winding bandage. "Apparently he's been trying to get out from under her thumb for years. He's talking about going back to France."

I smile inwardly at that, happy for Donnie, grateful that if my confrontation yielded nothing else at least it severed his bonds. "And you?" I ask, feeling only mildly embarrassed and self-conscious as Harry tugs me closer, his arm sneaking around my waist and his head propping itself on my shoulder, his thumb hooking in my front pocket.

It's so strange and new being open together, we've never had that before. It's...nice, making warmth spread through me. Especially now, after all we've been through I have a completely unrealistic urge to never be more than an arm’s length away from him - luckily for me he seems to mirror my thoughts for now.

"Me?" Caleb sighs, shrugging again. "I haven't decided, I might stay, might go with Donnie, might go back home."

"And where's that?" Harry asks.

"Haven't figured that out by my dashing accent?" He replies, flashing us his most devilish smile.

"What dashing accent?" I taunt and he scowls at me as Harry chuckles against my side and I decide that yes, I definitely could get used to this. And I can, I will. There will be no more pushing him away, only pulling him closer.

"Yeah, yeah, no one ever finds American's exotic, especially compared to you damn Brits." He grumbles and fidgets with the zipper to his sweatshirt, clearly contemplating his next words. "Are you done then? Quitting the fight I mean?"

Harry stiffens just a little next to me, his thumb that had been rubbing along the inside of my pocket stilling as he waits for my answer. It's a loaded question, even more so than Caleb or even Harry can possibly know. It reaches inside me and I wait, expecting it to trigger something, to feel something...perhaps a dread or a pounding in my head or a fear of letting it go or maybe even a drive to be as far from it as possible.

I wait but nothing comes. Everything inside me is still. Quiet.

I swallow and glance down at Harry, his mop of stormy hair trying to shelter his piercing eyes but they stare up at me through his dark curls anyway. Eye's that are open and willing and waiting. It's my choice, he won't sway me one way or the other despite the fact that I almost want him to. Want him to persuade me, to take the decision from me because it feels oddly terrifying. Everything's been the same for me for so long, walking the tightrope and hoping not to fall as I pushed my body to new limits. I don't know how to live without routine and control and rhythm - without precise measured steps and the calculated minutes that stretch my days.

But I don't have to anymore, there's nothing chaining me down any longer. The way is free and as I fall into the vivid green of Harry's gaze I feel my pulse pick up, feel my heart thump, and my breath drag in tempo with it. I don't need the fight to steady me, don't need it to keep me sane, don't need it to simply feel something, anything. Harry makes me remember who I am, who I want to be, he makes me buzz with electricity with just a look.

If I stay, if I continue my profession it will be different, of that I'm sure.

"I haven't fully decided." I finally say with a shrug, tearing my gaze away from Harry and back to Caleb. "I'm going to be taking a break for a while though."

Caleb smiles with a little nod, like he expected the answer but is saddened by it anyway. "You'll be leavening then?"

"Yes and soon." I reply, feeling Harry melt a little into my side, apparently pleased with my answer. "I'm rather keen on a change of scenery."

"And just where might that change turn out to be?" Harry asks, sounding amused and hopeful, a small laugh escaping his lips as I shrug one shoulder and send him a half smile that pulls one side of my mouth up sharply.

Caleb pulls his zipper up to his throat and gives us a funny little look as he straightens from his leaning position. "Have to get away from your evil knife drawer?"

"It's a wretched thing." I say mournfully as I glance pointedly at the inconspicuous drawer. With a laugh Caleb rubs his chin and glances at his feet, shifting his weight and looking rather forlorn and I realize that I truly will miss him. A faithful friend in a life that's run rather scarce of them. But I don't know how to do this. Saying goodbye has never been my forte, preferring to just pick up and leave in the middle of the night.

"Well, best of luck and all that." He fidgets, takes a step and stops. "Send me a postcard yeah?"

"And address it where exactly?" I ask, untangling myself from Harry and meeting him halfway, hand reaching out for a shake.

"Good point, not like you would anyway." He winks and grabs my hand, tugging me sharply into a hug that hurts against my sensitive skin. It's rather a simple gesture but really it's the perfect way to say goodbye and I let myself relax into it. "I hate long goodbyes." He grumbles and I snicker as he mirrors my own thoughts exactly.

"Couldn't agree more." I murmur into his hair and pull back, rather surprised when he keeps his hands on my shoulders, preventing my escape.

"You'll have to forgive me Harry." He calls over my shoulder before grabbing my face and placing a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth.

Feeling foreign lips on my own is shocking, their warm and wet and thick and filled with kindness - vastly different from Harry's kisses that are always fueled with passion, even the light, slow ones are always simmering with heat just under his intake of breath. This is a kiss of friendship, the kind of which that has always eluded me. Funny to think that I'm just now realizing it as our time together is coming to a close. Seems like a waste and I wish I had gotten to know him under better circumstances, when I was wholly myself and not afraid of my own shadow.

"I will if you let go now." Harry's at my side again, sounding stern and yet understanding, his expression neither hard nor accusatory.

Caleb withdrawals and shrugs sheepishly. "Can you blame me?" He addresses Harry and reaches out to clasp his hand in a firm shake.

Harry glances sideways at me and smiles. "Suppose not."

Watching Caleb walk out the door a little while later, wearing a soft smile before turning and whistling to himself down the hall, feels like a kind of settling. Like a chapter of my life is drawing to a close. A chapter I'd sooner forget, all but a handful of things. But there's light on the next page and crawling into bed with Harry and passing out in the middle of the day feels like the perfect way to start.

****

I dream of running.

Jogging down a crowded street with sweat on my skin and a pounding in my chest - the sun beating down on me with rays of pure heat and light. The pavement beneath my feet is cracked and vibrates with each smack. The crowd pushes towards me and sings with noise before disappearing altogether.

And I am solitary.

For all but a moment before there's arms around my waist, tugging me back into darkness that doesn't feel threatening but hopeful.

Like it could hold anything and everything.

****

"Are you sure about this?"

I nod, staring up the steep winding dirt path, the colorful squares of cloth flapping in the breeze with the faintest tinkle of chimes off in the distance. The house sitting at the top is small and squat, the mud brick muted in color and the thatched roof slanting across the top, a field stretching far off to the right with a mountain rising straight up to the left. It is breathtakingly beautiful in its simplicity. Or maybe it's the air, everything so clean smelling and fresh and light. Like you could jump and fly away on its current.

"And you?" I ask, grasping his hand tight in mine as we both stare straight ahead at the awaiting house.

Harry nods slowly. "Yeah, I just...a bit nervous. We didn't part on the best of terms."

"You could wait in the village." I offer, already knowing his response before the question is fully out.

He shifts the backpack on his shoulders and sighs. "No, I want to do this."

"Alright then." I mutter, shifting the weight of my own bag before starting determinedly up the path.

We don't speak again as we hike up, both of us lost in our own memories and thoughts, unsure what to expect from this visit. It could go so many different ways and I feel myself grow anxious as the ground narrows beneath our feet. My legs are burning pleasantly by the time we reach the top, the air thin and with a welcoming bite to it on my cheeks as I unwind the threadbare scarf from around my neck - letting it hang open down my front.

"Harry." I pause as we reach the gate of the old fence running around the little house, the warning I had planned somehow lodged in my throat with a sudden inability to form my thoughts into a coherent sentence. But this trip, all those hours on horrible buses driving up dangerous roads, all the days we spent hiking with our feet growing numb and chaffed in our boots, the nights huddled in a little tent with our throbbing limbs and aching backs - they all had served a purpose.

To bring us here, where we both needed to go I think before we could start out on our new life together. And we needed to do it that way, at least I did and I think so did Harry, without the use of magic. We had to feel it, feel the trip in our bones and weary flesh - I wonder if I'll ever feel differently, if the need for the physical connections to things will lesson and magic will come more naturally to me once more. But now I almost feel responsible for the reception we'll receive, protective of Harry and the lashing he may endure.

"I know." He says and squares his shoulders, pushing the unlatched gate in and stepping through.

Following Harry up the rest of the small path, I rap my knuckles against the rickety door, holding my breath and glancing nervously at him as we wait for an answer. It only takes a moment, the sound of shuffling feet, a barked command at a dog yelping in distress and then it's opening before us - revealing a dark, sparse interior flickering in candle light - illuminating the tall, dark figure filling the door frame from top to bottom.

There's a scowl on his face that morphs in an instant, melting down into a look of utter surprise, his brown slanting eyes widening and blinking out at us. No, at Harry, who’s staring back with an unsure smile as he drops his backpack to the ground by his feet.

"Harry." Blaise breathes and in a move that leaves me speechless, he reaches out and grabs him, pulling Harry into a rough embrace that has him blinking in shock before he manages to raise his arms and wrap them around the man crushing him.

Well, I suppose my worry was misplaced, my feet shifting awkwardly as I watch my former best friend squeeze my lover with all his might. With a smack of something akin to an ache in my chest I recognize the look on Blaise's face. The way his eyes are shut tight, the way his mouth is drawn up into a smile that's boarding on a grimace, on the way his hands are bunching into Harry's thin gray jacket.

He's holding him like he's unsure he's real. Like he's smoke that will be gone the moment he opens his eyes. I recognize it because I've been there myself and it's in this moment that I realize how deeply their connection ran. I almost feel like an intruder, looking in on a moment that shouldn't be for my eyes.

"Blaise." Harry says, his voice a little constricted from the tight embrace, his eyes wide and glancing repeatedly over at me. "You're touching me." He mutters and I cock my head in confusion till I remember what Harry had told me.

About the curses Blaise had suffered that made him detest even the slightest touch of a breeze against his skin. How it nearly drove him mad and sent him spiraling into violence against himself.

That seems to jolt Blaise back into himself though and he pulls back with a chuckle, shaking his head full of shaggy black hair that's hanging about his face in thickly matted curls - the sight just another shock to my system. I've never seen him look so unkempt, so wild, and uncaring. It's like staring at a stranger, with a smile on usually smug lips, the clothes on his tall slim frame just shy of dingy but plainly worn and worked in on a regular basis. Brown boots with mud stains and thick gray wool peeking out the top and fingernails with dirt embedded deep under the rims and along his cuticles.

It's like looking at someone I've never known.

"So it seems." He says, dropping his arms back to his sides, his eyes raking over Harry's face as if he's unsure of something. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been worried." Harry answers before carefully slipping his hand into mine, Blaise's gaze snapping over to me for the first time since he pulled the door open. "And we wanted to see you."

Blaise's face is frozen. If seeing Harry was a shock, seeing me looks like it's sent him to an early death, like I'm a ghost he's been stalking and dreading all at once. Perhaps I am. "Draco?" He asks, clearing his throat and blinking in disbelief.

"Hey Blaise." I smile, squeezing the warm hand in mine for strength. Something about facing him feels akin to facing my past, in a way that's entirely different from when I looked upon Bella again but somehow frighteningly all the same. Maybe because now he seems more like Harry's past, a little slice of old time I can fall into. I think knew it would all along and that was why I needed to come, to see him, to understand a little bit more of the man standing next to me by looking through a different lens. "Long time."

Perhaps I’m after closure but I'm not sure if that's something Harry or I will ever have with all we've been through.

"My god you actually found him." He's shifting his gaze between Harry and me, quickly and without really seeing me in the process like he's expecting that one of the times he does it I won't be here and the world will be righted again. "When...where?"

"Thailand, a few months back." Harry replies and bites his bottom lip, silently waiting for Blaise to stop shaking his head like he's trying to get rid of us from his doorstep. "Blaise?"

"Yeah, I...just bloody hell." Blaise reaches out and grasps the cut brick of the doorframe with a tight fist. "I need a minute." He finally mutters, looking slightly dazed and a little sickly. Then with a deep breath he pushes straight past us and hops over the low fence separating his house from the terraced fields beyond.

"That went well." I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and watching as my old friend's shadowy figure sways across the land like he's lost his footing.

"It did actually." Harry murmurers, looking down at his own feet for a moment. "I'm going to go talk to him." He drags a hand through his hair and glances back up at me, pressing forward on his toes to place a quick kiss against my lips. "Wait here for a minute?" I nod, my fingers working on tying his muted red scarf back round his neck with nimble, mindless fingers as he smiles. "I'll be right back...maybe, actually it might take a bit, Blaise is..."

"I know." I chuckle.

"Oh right." He blushes and toys with my fingers that are still on his knotted scarf. "So you'll wait?"

"You know you don't have to be so nervous every time you go off on your own." I mutter, brushing my thumb over his cold cheek. "I'm not going anywhere remember? You're stuck with me now."

"Thank god for that." He grins and with a quick glance over his shoulder at Blaise's now still form off in the distance, throws his arms around my shoulders and places a devastating kiss on my lips that has his cheeks tinged with a deeper pink when he pulls away.

"You're stalling." I point out, catching my breath and easing my hands from where they had automatically wound around him.

"No." He shakes his head, then stops. "Well yes actually but I'm done now." Harry smiles and steps back from me, walking backwards down the sodden path. "I like this look by the way."

"What look?"

"The, I'm a bit jealous but trying not to be so I'm just going to kiss him stupid in the span of three seconds to prove it, look." His smile turns into a grin as I narrow my eyes, my arms crossing over my chest in defiance.

"You kissed me." I point out.

He shakes his head rapidly, his hand on the fence Blaise hopped over a moment ago. "No, I hugged you, you're the one who turned up the heat." And with that he springs over the wooden railing and disappears down the field. "Not that I'm complaining!" He shouts back at me before he's out of earshot.

I frown, thinking back and realizing with a blush that he's right. I did kiss him, pushing one hand against his neck and the other roughly grasping his arse, like I was marking my territory or something - instinctual. But was it out of jealousy? I don't think I'm jealous, I know I have no reason to be and seeing Blaise nearly suffocate Harry in his delight in seeing him was...odd but it didn't stir a monster of possession.

Not in that sort of way.

It was more painful for a completely different reason.

Harry reaches Blaise in the field and I see them turn towards each other, an expanse between them that seems telling. It's about the size of me. Funny that I'm the thing that brought them together and broke them apart. I can't help but wonder what would have become of Blaise if I had never left, if I hadn't fled the hospital but instead had tracked down Harry and waited for his release. Would things have turned out better or worse from him? For all of us.

"Hello."

I nearly jump at the softly voiced greeting from behind me and turning sharply I see a small framed woman with thick black hair and dirty cheeks in colorfully blended clothing draped over her lithe form. Her skin is that of leather from hours in the direct sun, her smile faint and yet welcoming. "Hi, sorry I'm here to see Blaise." I say, pointing over my shoulder. "I'm an old friend."

She smiles wider and shakes her head lightly. "Rekha." She places a hand on her chest, pointing at herself, her voice thick with the accent of the Nepalese people.

"Draco." I indicate my own chest in return, wondering how much English she knows. "Are you Blaise's...?" I trail off, uncertain of what to ask. His wife, his maid, his companion, his helper?

"Blaise." She nods again, holding up her hand that holds a slim gold ring. "Wife, yes."

I stare at the ring and smile. "Oh, right. Nice to meet you." I shift on my feet, uncertain where to go from here.

"Yes." She hasn't stopped nodding and smiling. "In, have tea."

"Alright." I follow her already retreating back into the small house, taking in the crude furniture and simplistic living that I never expected Blaise to find comfort in. But it's warm inside and smells like smoke and spice and there's something comforting in that. With one last peak at the pair in the field I shut the door after me - trying to keep a steadiness to my thoughts and let them hash out whatever needs to be dealt with.

For Harry's sake if nothing else.

****

"I thought he was mental you know." Blaise shakes his head, barely glancing up at me as I come to stand next to him in the field, the sun setting low in the sky and casting a beautiful display of colors.

"Harry?" I quip, shoving my hands in my jackets pockets and staring over his head at the orange streaking across the blue like it's been painted on.
Harry had come back two hours later, his skin pink and his fingers frozen around a nearly finished cigarette but otherwise more relaxed than he has been in several days. He had greeted Rekha - who turned out to barely speak English but was rather wonderful company besides, warm and caring and soothing - with great delight and murmured to me that Blaise wanted to talk to me and then sat down to a bowl of steaming stew with profuse gratitude.

He hadn't said what they had been discussing and I didn't ask. Don't really know if I want to know.

"Yeah." Blaise scratches at his head, his thick curls tangling easily around his coarse fingers. "You should have seen him the first day they brought him into the hospital. His hands were bleeding and there were shards of glass in the cuts. He was crying and screaming before they strapped him down and put him to sleep. I watched from a crack in the wardrobe. I had never had a roommate. Imagine my surprise when the lunatic they drug in turned out to be non-other than Harry Saint Potter. Defeater of the Dark Lord, Savior of all, in my room with dozens of Healers gathered around him. They cleaned his wounds, healed them, scrubbed him clean, and left. Just like that. Forgotten rather quickly it seemed."

"Why were you there?" I ask quietly, noticing with an acute awareness that he hasn't turned to face me yet, like he can't quite bring himself to look on me.

But he doesn't seem to hear me or maybe he does and chooses to ignore my question, continuing on in a droning voice like he's speaking to the wind. "I stayed in my dark corner of the wardrobe for hours, watching him through the crack before coming out. I hated being in that room, it made me itch all over. But I couldn't resist. He was so very still with the thick straps holding him down, of course they were useless now that he was magically unconscious. But the Healers left them on anyway as if they were afraid he'd wake and kill them all...I never liked him much you know."

"I know." I reply even though I don't think he was really looking for confirmation as I realize what he's doing. He's processing, he's telling his story in a way to cope with our sudden appearance. It's strange seeing Blaise do it when he used to be so quiet and reserved and aloof. And I don't particularly want to hear it but I have a feeling it's a sort of punishment for me as well. Punishment for Harry choosing me over him. Which means this will get painful, Blaise always knew how to cut right to the heart.
But this is what I came here for, wasn’t it? To probe the wound and see if it stinks? Or to let it finally close over and heal. I like to think the latter.

"Hated him really, he was such a pathetic Half-blood." He murmurs and glances at me from the very corner of his eye. "That was the one thing we really had in common wasn't it? I mean Merlin Draco, you spent your entire time at Hogwarts trying to make his life as miserable as possible and then he wakes up and what does he do? He starts shouting for the Healers and demanding information about you until they had to knock him out again. I thought I was going mad all over again. But he woke up the next day and did it again and again until the stupid git finally realized that it only made them knock him out to shut him up." Blaise pauses and stares at me for a long minute, almost like he's sizing me up.

I stay perfectly still and silent, waiting for him continue.

"I couldn't stand that he was there, in my room, looking like I felt. I liked to watch him sleep though. He was peaceful in a way that seemed abnormal in the Ward. Then one day he woke up and didn't start thrashing against the straps and screaming his damn head off. He just laid there and stared at the ceiling for hours it seemed before very, very quietly saying my name. I didn't answer, didn't come out of the wardrobe but he knew I was there and he just started talking. He told me about the last year he had spent hunting relics for some reason and to my complete shock he told me you had been with him. I laughed at that I remember. It was the first time I had laughed since before the war. It was so...ridiculous."

"It is a bit isn't it?" I smile a little, not at Blaise or his tone of voice or anything he’s saying but at the memory of those days – days that seemed too hard at the time but now have the glow of heaven around them.

"A bit? That's an understatement." He snorts, his voice deep and rough. "You are a Malfoy, a Death Eater, to hear you had been traipsing around the countryside with that pathetic trio was just insanity. Just think while you were making nice with Potter I was being held captive along with my Mother. Our circumstances were rather dire and in the end she sold me for her freedom. I don't remember much of the war, really."

"Blaise, I'm sorry." I take a careful step forward and stop as he looks sharply away from me.

"I don't want your pity." He lets out a bitter chuckle. "Besides it didn't turn out so well for you in the end, did it? At least that was what Harry wouldn't shut up about. He talked about you constantly like he was trying to remember every little detail in this twitchy little way that just made him look like he'd lost his marbles and wouldn't ever get them back but the nights were worse. They had to medicate him to get him to sleep and then an hour into it he'd start screaming. I don't know if it was the sound or the fact that he kept calling for you like he was trying to personally torment me but I snapped one night and smothered him with his own pillow because of it. The guards stopped me in time and they nearly moved him to a different room."

"Why didn't they?" I ask, taken aback by this revelation and sick at the explanation of Harry's first days there.

"Harry wanted to stay and for some crazy reason they let him." He shrugs like it means nothing to him but I can see differently, I can tell that it does and I would bet anything that that was the moment he started to thaw towards his fellow mental patient. "After that he was much quieter, at least while he was conscious. He would sit on the opposite side of the wardrobe from me sometimes. He talked the Healers out of touching me and letting me take my own potions instead of them forcing it down my throat. He..."

"Grew on you?" I supply and Blaise smiles faintly and nods.

"Yeah, you could say that. When he was released and left me alone again I quickly realized how much I needed him and I knew I needed to get out or I'd die in that blasted room. I really shouldn't have been surprised to find out that he had gone off after you when I managed my release but I was. God I hated you then. Hated that he was running after you when you had left him. I thought you were nuts and I...I wanted to smack some sense into him and then kill you. Of course he didn't listen, he never did when it came to you, Merlin you'd think the sun revolved around you from the way he spoke. It was the nights, once again, that were the worst though..." He grumbles as I picture him finding his freedom only to chase after Harry as Harry chased after me.

Oh the messes we make.

"Why?" I prompt through a suddenly tight throat, guilt and pain and sorrow building a tangle of emotions inside me.

He turns to face me fully for the first time, tilting his head and narrowing his long thin eyes, making him look incredibly intimidating. "He had this book. It was filled with pictures, yeah? Page after page of your smiling and scowling face and there was this one that he was constantly taking out, unfolding and staring at it for hours when he couldn't sleep, which was more often than not. I would pretend to be passed out a lot and on more than one occasion well, you know what he would do?" He pauses and arches an eyebrow at me, clearly wanting me to answer this time.

I feel my pulse speed up as I stare back at him, near positive that I don't want to hear this, that I may be very well tempted to punch him in a minute, that this is the part he sinks the blade in to its hilt - and I desperately try to remind myself that we are all broken and have done things that would be questionable and regarded as wrong on the outside. I have to remember that, I remind myself over and over again.But this won't be about running or quietly spiraling down or even murder, I somehow know this will be completely personal.

"Blaise, don't."

Blaise smiles a bit manically, reminding me of my own when faced with my worst nightmare. "Don't want to hear it? Why, because everything's so perfect for you now? Because you have him back and all is good in Draco's little world again, you selfish prick. Well I'm going to tell you anyway. The first time was an accident. I didn't mean to catch him, I woke up and heard something and got up to follow the sound. The stupid latch on the crappy hotel's bathroom door never locked all the way and I could see him through the crack." He laughs and drops his gaze for just a second. "Like we were back in the hospital. Except this time he was smiling with his head thrown back against the wall, one hand clutching that damn picture and the other working his cock. I stared at him, seized with a sudden urge to take over for him and enthralled with the look on his face...then he finished and for a second looked truly happy like I hadn't ever seen him."

"Stop now." I grind out, closing my eyes to keep my composure, pained from not only hearing about Harry but in hearing Blaise's actions that crossed too many lines.

"No because you know what he did next? He cried. He always cried after and that's when I truly started despising every hair on your damn head because he'd rather have his own hand and his fantasy of you that only ever made him more depressed in the end than me. Who was with him, who chased after him, who was fucking flesh and bone and not some bloody photograph of a sickly sweet kiss in the damn snow. You don't deserve him." He finishes with a bite to his words like he's challenging me, daring me to contradict him.

"I know I don't." I hold his gaze and fight against the conflict inside me. "Trust me on that."

Blaise sucks in a deep breath and blinks slowly, almost like he's deflating right before my eyes. "And yet here you are."

"Harry...there's no convincing him otherwise and I need him." I try to explain in as little words as possible, knowing there's no way to explain all that's happened to me over the years. Even if I tried I don't think I could adequately make him see. "He sees the best in everyone." He always has.

He smiles slowly, fondly, a smile that's not for me but for the man in the house with his wife - a wife I hope he loves and has found some happiness with. "And you? Do you love him too?" He asks and it feel's oddly protective, especially after what he just told me.

I nod, slowly, once. "Yes."

He closes his dark eyes and when he opens them again it's like the fire inside has shifted. "Have you told him?"

I hesitate for a moment before opening my mouth and answering. "No, not in so many words."

The hand that lands on my shoulder is so unexpected that I jump a little, surprised by the soft and yet firm squeeze of his long fingers. "He's not like us Draco, he won't think you weak for it."

"I know." It's weird being so close to him after feeling all the emotions rolling so vibrantly off him since coming out to the field. I can't tell if he's accepting me or not, if he's okay with my being here but it feels like maybe, just maybe he is. Or will be.

"Then man up and just do it, there will never be a perfect time for it, it will never get easier, not for people like us."

"Funny advice coming from you." I mutter, feeling my heart squeeze with equal yearning and fear.

Blaise smiles and shrugs again. "Harry left and it hurt and sometimes I wonder..." he trails off then shakes his head, clearing the wandering thought from it. “I have Rekha now and yes, there's a part of me that wants to beat you senseless but, well, he was never mine was he?"

"Perhaps he should have been." I return his unsure smile, understanding with near perfection where he's coming from.

"I couldn't agree more. I know I'll never understand how in the world you managed to make him fall for you but I think...I can be happy for you. In time." He squeezes my shoulder once more before letting his hand fall back to his side. "Did Harry ever give you my letter?" He asks, eyeing me a bit wearily now.

I nod, pulling the folded, unopened envelope from my back pocket. "Yes. I haven't been able to make myself open it yet though."

Blaise stares at it for a moment before tearing his eyes away. "Do me a favor? Destroy it instead."

"Why?" I glance down at the white paper that I've been so near to breaking open so many times but never coming quite close enough.

"Just trust me." He replies cryptically and with a half-smile he turns to walk back towards the house that's glowing softly in the distance now. "Oh and Draco? I'm glad he found you, truly. He deserves to be happy." And with that he walks away with his hands in his pockets, back towards his life and his wife and Harry.

I stare after him, feeling mildly like I have whiplash from the way he was yanking back and forth. But I find, with a smudge of resignation, that I'm glad he told me all of it - that he vented his hurt on me and let it spill out, hopefully opening him up a little wider for something new. But I'm not only happy for him but for myself. I needed to hear it from him I think and now I can push it aside as well and let go of any guilt.

Glancing down at the envelope, I hold it up by the corner and wave my other hand over it, watching it spark and catch fire - burning up the letters and bitterness inside as it turns to ash and floats to the muddy ground.

Time to move on.

****

"What are you doing? Is everything alright? What did Blaise say?"

"Quiet." I shush as I lead Harry out of the dark and still house, away from Blaise's quiet snores and the rustling of Rekha as she twists and turns on the straw mattress.

It's black outside, the moon shining silver and the stars making pocks of light high above us as I haphazardly lead Harry around the house and out into the field - retracing my steps mentally towards the little rock ledge cut out of the mountain side.

"It's cold." Harry grumbles, his voice still groggy from the sleep I had pulled him from, as he huddles closer to my side. "Are you at least going to tell me where we're going."

"We're here." I reply, turning to squint at him in the dark, the light of the moon casting a soft shadow across his face.

He looks around and frowns. "...Okay. Are you going to tell me what's going on now? Did something happen with Blaise earlier? You two seemed rather tense when you got back."

"It's not about Blaise." I reassure him and pull him into my arms.

"Are you sure because I know he was upset and I told him to-"

"Harry." I interrupt his rapidly spoken words. "Shut up. Everything's fine I just wanted to tell you something."

"Oh, okay." He stares at me with some apprehension and I can understand why, it's not every day I drag him out of bed and off into the elements in the middle of the night. But I can't sleep and Blaise's voice from earlier keeps swimming around and around in my head and I had to do something. Have to do this. Now. I’m tired of running from it and keeping it pushed down. "What is it?"

"My family doesn't do sentimental emotions. It's considered a weakness. We don't acknowledge them, we don't even name them so as not to give them any power over us." I start and Harry's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Malfoy's are to be stoic and calm and always composed."

Harry snickers and leans into my chest a little. "Really?"

"I'm being serious." I grumble and he stops chuckling straight away.

"Right, stoic, sorry. Go on." He sets a straight face, with the muscles on the corner of his lips twitching from the effort.

"I should have done this a long time ago, I know that." I continue, running my fingers along his arm until I reach his hand curled around my neck. Taking it in mine I pull it back and brush my thumb over the Malfoy ring that he still wears every night and day.

He asked once, as were packing to leave, if I wanted it back with a shy nervousness. I didn't even dignify it was answer, just kissed the skin above the ring lightly, smiled softly, and went back to packing. I was tempted to tell him then how much he means to me and that I want to never see his finger naked again but I didn't. Once again I couldn’t make my lips move to form the words, couldn’t make myself say the things I feel. But Blaise is right and tonight I rectify that.

"But I didn't because... I admire you're fearlessness Harry, your open audacity to do whatever you need to do or say to get what you want. You’re not afraid of your desires. You know what you want and you go and get it, it's a trait that's never come easy to me I must admit."

"Is this about the other night, when I asked you to...with the chocolate and my tie?" He asks, looking mildly embarrassed and confused at the same time. "...And the leather." He adds on with a whisper like it's a secret that he shouldn't be telling me even though I was the one doing it with him.

I laugh, folding my fingers around his. "God no, but I find it funny that that is where you're mind went straight off."

He blushes and glances at our entwined hands resting on my shoulder, the silver ring just barely visible. "Best just say it straight off then, I think I'm too tired for subtlety."

I take a deep breath and push past twenty-seven years of repression, capturing his gaze and holding it locked in my own. "I love you Harry and I know it's silly and ridiculous to have drug you out here to say the obvious but I can't help it. I do, I love you and I needed to tell you." He's completely still and for a moment it almost seems as if he didn't hear me, like I hadn't actually been able to speak out loud and only said it in my head...again. "Harry?"

"One more time." Harry's voice is a ghost in the night, his eyes wide and his breath held tightly in his chest.

I place my hand along the curve of his jaw and angle his head up, my lips brushing his as I keep my eyes on his. "I love you."

He grins as he bites into his bottom lip, pressing up fully against me. "I love you too." He whispers and then he's laughing, a breathy warm sound that thrills through me before I'm kissing him, drowning out the sound only to replace it with the deeper vibrations of his groans in the night air.

A/N: Fluffy/smutty epilogue anyone? ;)
Delia Cerrano: Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm glad you liked it, it was nerve wrecking to write :)
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The Art of Shadow Boxing