Draco had shouted at him, tried to get up and leave. But Harry only looked at him mutely and tightened his grip until the force of his fingers became a dull ache on already tender skin. And then Harry raised the sore arm, kissed the skin lightly, and let him go.
And Draco had not left after all.
This is just exactly what is so touching about your Harry and Draco. Harry's just...he's so calm, so wize almost, and Draco's so not understanding how, or why, or what. And then Harry goes and does something Draco fights so much against, only to find (and usually belatedly) that it was exactly what he wanted, what he needed.
“Perhaps I am not ready to give up that spark yet, not concerning you, anyway. And for that selfish failure I am sorrier than words can express.”
I hated this line the first time I read it, because of what it had to do to Draco's already confused mind. But now that I read it again, I think maybe it hurts Lucius just as much. Or at least as much as he can hurt anymore. Because he's in essence just admitted to Draco that in a way, he's condemning him to danger, to not knowing what will happen to him, to a life as a pawn of sorts.
I know I said before how I love the fact that when Draco goes to his mother's spot in the roses, they tear at him, scratch him, where they do not touch her. I don't know if you intended it to be like this, but it's almost as if she's not there. Not real, and that's why they leave her be. But Draco's real, alive.
He felt the whole house would know if he did, that the walls would absorb the name like blood into soil, that the tapestries would soak it into themselves and change their appearances.
His mother looked at him in the mornings in such a way that he wondered if he had not spoken the name in his sleep.
Oh god, how did I miss this before? These two lines are just amazing. The hint that the house seems more than just a house, like it's Lucius' house in more than just ownership. The image of the blood and the sound, and the changing! Like the whole world would remake itself if Draco were to utter those two tiny syllables in that house.
And the part about Narcissa, god. That's chilling.
I love Draco in this, as I always love your Draco. I love that he both wants to take care of his mother, and wants her back. I almost want to say to take care of him, but that's not really it, as I don't think Draco would let her. But it's sort of there, all the same. The conflict with himself, and with Lucius and their same yet not yet same thoughts is wonderful, and really, I was never confused as to what Draco felt.
The end, though, just killed me. Because I'm so afraid of this one, Rerun. It can go so many places that aren't happy, aren't happy at all. But either way, I know it'll be wonderful.
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And Draco had not left after all.
This is just exactly what is so touching about your Harry and Draco. Harry's just...he's so calm, so wize almost, and Draco's so not understanding how, or why, or what. And then Harry goes and does something Draco fights so much against, only to find (and usually belatedly) that it was exactly what he wanted, what he needed.
“Perhaps I am not ready to give up that spark yet, not concerning you, anyway. And for that selfish failure I am sorrier than words can express.”
I hated this line the first time I read it, because of what it had to do to Draco's already confused mind. But now that I read it again, I think maybe it hurts Lucius just as much. Or at least as much as he can hurt anymore. Because he's in essence just admitted to Draco that in a way, he's condemning him to danger, to not knowing what will happen to him, to a life as a pawn of sorts.
I know I said before how I love the fact that when Draco goes to his mother's spot in the roses, they tear at him, scratch him, where they do not touch her. I don't know if you intended it to be like this, but it's almost as if she's not there. Not real, and that's why they leave her be. But Draco's real, alive.
He felt the whole house would know if he did, that the walls would absorb the name like blood into soil, that the tapestries would soak it into themselves and change their appearances.
His mother looked at him in the mornings in such a way that he wondered if he had not spoken the name in his sleep.
Oh god, how did I miss this before? These two lines are just amazing. The hint that the house seems more than just a house, like it's Lucius' house in more than just ownership. The image of the blood and the sound, and the changing! Like the whole world would remake itself if Draco were to utter those two tiny syllables in that house.
And the part about Narcissa, god. That's chilling.
I love Draco in this, as I always love your Draco. I love that he both wants to take care of his mother, and wants her back. I almost want to say to take care of him, but that's not really it, as I don't think Draco would let her. But it's sort of there, all the same. The conflict with himself, and with Lucius and their same yet not yet same thoughts is wonderful, and really, I was never confused as to what Draco felt.
The end, though, just killed me. Because I'm so afraid of this one, Rerun. It can go so many places that aren't happy, aren't happy at all. But either way, I know it'll be wonderful.