Say You Won’t Let Go (Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Fanfic)

by psychotic_fangirl369

Prologue

Harry drifts in and out of consciousness. His head feels like it’s
about to explode; so does his entire body. He is vaguely aware of
light and voices and people saying his name. He feels a soft hand
holding his and fingers carding through his hair. But then he is
lost again and there is only darkness. And memories. He doesn’t
know how long it is before he is partially conscious again. He can
make out blurred images and a face, his face. He tries to speak,
to let him know that he is okay, but he can’t get the words out.
“It’s okay, Harry,” the voice says, soothing, as fingers brush his
forehead.
He realizes that his body is hot, burning, and that his hair is stuck
to his face due to the sweat oozing from his body. Then he is
throwing up and it’s all over him and he wants to cry. He thinks
he is crying, from pain and disgust. But then he is in someone’s
arms and the world sways, before he is eased into a warm bath.
Someone wipes a cloth over his face and body and he feels
himself drift off again.
Sometime later he hears voices.
“Will he be okay, Professor?”
“I hope so. I certainly hope so.”Then he hears screaming and he
realizes with horror that it is coming from him. Cold hands are on
his body and he screams louder, harder, as pain courses through
his veins. He’s on fire, hot and flaming. He feels his body twist
and turn in awkward angles as the heat jolts him.
“Make it stop!” He screams out. He must have said it out loud
because a whispered reply follows, saying, “I’m trying to, Harry.
I’m trying.”His screams fade to a soft whimpering sob and the
soft fingers are back in his hair.
“I love you, Harry. You hold on, okay?”Harry feels drained, the
magic and energy in his blood gone. But he tries to reply, needing
to reassure him that he will be okay.
“I-” he rasps, his eye lids fluttering shut. “Love. You.” He coughs
and he can feel himself fading. “Draco...”
Then he is no more.
Chapter One

8 Months Ago…

None of them speak on the train journey to Hogwarts. Their

compartment remains dim, the blinds pulled down. Hermione is
reading diligently, whilst Ron stares gloomily at the wall. Ginny is
sitting next to Harry, her hand in his. Harry stares at the floor,
feeling empty and alone. He finally understands the saying he
heard as a child. There are no winners in war. Only survivors.
Unable to bear the silence, Harry stands, nodding at Ron before
slipping out of the compartment. He slowly walks down the train
and he can’t help the glimmer of jealousy he feels when he sees
friends laughing together, happy. He remembers when that used
to be him, but even then, he was always in the line of fire. He was
always a target. At least he had been happy. Now… now he is just
a shell of the boy that he used to be; of the boy who fought in the
war. He knows that Ron and Hermione want to help, but they
can’t. They just don’t understand. They don’t know what it is like
to die. They don’t know what it is like to have Voldemort inside
your head. They don’t know what it’s like to have thousands of
people looking to you, a child, to save them.
Harry keeps walking when he spots an empty compartment and
slips inside. He quickly draws the blind and the room sinks into
gloomy darkness.
This was a mistake, Harry muses to himself. He shouldn’t have
decided to return to Hogwarts. But where else would you go, a
voice whispers. And it is true. He has no family to care for him.
Sirius is dead. Lupin, Tonks – dead. The Weasley’s have enough to
deal with, what with the death of their son. They have done so
much for him over the years and, to be honest, he doesn’t think
that he could handle being with them. Not now. Not after
everything.
Not for the first time, Harry wishes he had stayed dead. And,
sometimes, he thinks his friends wish it too. They are unsure of
this new Harry. This silent, broken boy that he has become. He
wishes that he could fix himself, but he doesn’t know how.
The compartment door opens and Harry jumps in his seat.
Glancing up, he meets the gaze of the last person he expected to
see. Draco Malfoy eyes Harry slowly and calculatingly, before
sitting down opposite him. Harry stares, unable to look away or
hide his surprise. The blond boy’s skin is pasty and his cheeks
look sunken. It hits Harry then that this usually perfectly put
together boy is in shambles.
Draco stares back unblinkingly, before nodding and looking away.
They stay like that, neither making a noise, simply sharing in
each other’s presence. It isn’t as uncomfortable as it ought to be.
A while later, Ron sticks his head in and stops dead when he sees
Malfoy. He opens his mouth to protest, but Harry hurriedly speaks
up.
“Leave him alone, Ron.”Ron’s mouth opens and closes as he
stares at Harry in shock.
“He’s a Death Eater, Harry! Everything he did-“
“Wasn’t his fault nor done by choice,” Harry interjects. “I didn’t
have a choice in my role, Ron. It was given to me the day
Voldemort killed my parents. Same goes for Malfoy. He did what
he had to to protect his family, as well as to stay alive. Besides, I
saved him, he saved me. We’re even.”
Ron is fuming, but Harry can’t find it in him to care. He watches
the red haired boy storm away without a word. Harry sighs
deeply. Just great. Now he has to deal with his best friend being
pissed at him.
Malfoy eyes him curiously. “Aren’t you going after Weasley?”
Harry just shakes his head. “No. I meant what I said. He needs to
get over it.”Malfoy shifts uncomfortably in his seat and Harry is
struck by how worn out and drained he appears. Neither says
anything for the rest of the trip and when they reach Hogwarts,
Malfoy slips into the crowd and is gone.

The Great Hall is half empty this year; not many students
choosing to return so soon after the war. The Sorting Ceremony is
brief and lacks the usual enthusiasm. Once it is over,
Headmistress McGonagall steps forward to speak. “I have some
news, regarding the returning seventh years.”Harry tenses and
shares confused and worried glances with Hermione.
“Due to there being so few of you,” she continues.
Harry nods in agreement as he glances around. Barely any of
their year has returned. He swallows hard in disappointment. Not
that he blames them for their choices. Their entire school careers
had included Harry and Voldemort in some form or another. And
their final year here wasn’t exactly one full of pleasant memories.
“All seventh years will be rooming together this year. A separate
tower has been prepared. After the feast, please remain behind
for further instructions.”A hushed murmur floods the hall. Another
tower with just seventh years? Students immediately dive into
discussions about the new development as they eat. Harry says
nothing, too busy panicking. He looks around, picking out the
faces of the returning seventh years. There is himself, Ron and
Hermione. Malfoy. Pansy Parkinson. Blaise Zabini. Theodore Nott.
Susan Bones. Padma and Parvati Patil. Michael Corner. He tries to
picture it. Him, Ron, Malfoy, Zabini, Nott and Michael, in a dorm
room together. For a year. Yeah, no, he can’t imagine it. Neither
can Ron he muses, watching his best friends face turn green at
the thought.
The meal goes quickly after that and soon the rest of the school
is filing out of the hall and heading to their rooms. As Ginny
passes him, she leans down and kisses him quickly on the lips.
The flutter he used to feel around her is gone, instead leaving a
bitter taste in his mouth. He pulls back instantly. When he sees
Ginny’s hurt and confused expression, he forces a smile. Then he
turns back to Ron and Hermione. Over their shoulders, he spots
Malfoy glaring at Ginny. Harry rolls his eyes. Typical.
Professor McGonagall steps forward. “All of you, come closer
please.”The seventh years shuffle down their tables until they are
close to her, eyeing the professor expectantly. Malfoy looks as
though he’d rather be anywhere but here. Harry can’t blame him.
McGonagall claps her hands, eyeing them all. “I know this might
be a shock to some of you, but I expect you all to be on your best
behavior.”
Malfoy scowls. Harry blinks, pinching himself. Stop staring at
Malfoy, git, he scolds himself, turning back to McGonagall.
“As a united graded, I expect you to promote unity. You have all
been through a lot and holding grudges will not be beneficial. I
hate to say it, but if Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy can be seen getting
along, well,” she swallows, “maybe the rest of the world will
follow suit and let the past remain where it belongs.”
The two boys eye each other dubiously. Sure, Harry doesn’t
blame Malfoy nor does he hate him, but he still thinks that he is a
giant git. Harry might be able to put his blame and hatred aside,
but they are still a long way off from being friends.
The professor nods before gesturing for them to follow her. “Your
rooms are this way.”
Silently, the eleven students follow her through the corridors and
up the stair cases. They stop when they reach a portrait of a
handsome knight.
“This is Sir Robert,” McGonagall states. “Password, unity.”Malfoy
scoffs and Harry shoots him a look. Their gazes meet and both
boys hurriedly look away, holding back a burst of laughter. It's
unexpected, the jolt of happiness Harry feels. It gives him hope.
They all step through the portrait into their new rooms. The
common room is very similar to that of Gryffindor’s aside from
the colour scheme. The colours of all four houses are artistically
woven into the furniture and décor. Harry looks over at Malfoy
and notices that the Slytherin boy looks as though he is about to
throw up. Harry smiles to himself and follows Ron up the stairs to
where McGonagall had said the boy’s dorm is. Harry steps inside
and is pleased to see that it looks exactly the same as his old
Gryffindor room, aside from the colours. He spots his trunk and
walks over to it, hastily pulling out his pajamas. Without looking
at the other boy’s, Harry tugs off his clothes and yanks on the
loose fitting pajamas. He can feel Malfoy’s gaze burning into his
skin. Ignoring it, he scrambles under the covers of his bed,
drawing the curtains around him.
“Night, Ron.”
“Night, Harry.”
He pauses.
“Night, Malfoy. Zabini. Nott. Night, Michael.”
Michael. “Night.”Silence. Then.
“Goodnight, Potter.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Harry casts a quick silencing charm and soon he is sleeping
fitfully once more