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Draco had the world at his fingertips, spilling into his palms. But not anymore. It is rather hard to balance the world in your palms when you cannot balance yourself. But nobody can anymore.
Eight year Hogwarts is bittersweet. Mostly bitter. He is surviving off a Ministry-issued wand and his wits, which are not very useful anymore. The jinxes sent his way are usually mild, like a stick-fast hex or stinging jinx, but usually not serious. Of course, every once in a while, some fools decide to go farther, like physically assault him. Of course it hurts, but Draco focuses on the galaxies spinning in his head, and each time they land a blow, a star explodes, creating a supernova.
He imagines the stars in the Draco constellation erupting one by one until there is nothing left of it, of him.
He never cries out, for that would be a sign of weakness, and Malfoys do not show weakness.
Classes are alright. Most teachers generally ignore him. For once, the lack of attention makes him grateful.
He eats, he sleeps. The schedule never differs.
His dreams are filled with star clouds, burning their image into his eyelids. He dreams of constellations forming the Dark Mark, then one by one the stars etch themselves onto his skin until there is no difference between pain and glory and the surreal reality of dreams.
He wakes up in a cold sweat. He casts a Tempus charm. It is still 4 am.
He rises. Dawns his robes and walks slowly out of the Eighth-Year dorms. He walks until he knows where his feet are taking him.
The astronomy tower is especially quiet today. He sits and watches. He watches as the sun rises, casting its unearthly glow across the castle, marked with war. He can feel the sun breathing into him, filling him with its glow until he is full and cannot take anymore.
Today is a weekend. He’s done all his homework already. He sits and watches the sun make its slow ascent until it is almost noon. He sits in his thin robes and his silk pajamas looking at the mighty Ra, Helios, Phoebus, Sol climb up the sky in their glorious ascent.
He doesn’t leave until lunch time, when everyone is in the Great Hall. He sneaks to his room, using the secret passageways he used in his sixth year.
He showers, changes to his uniform and walks away. Not to eat, but to dream. He walks up the stairs until he reaches the seventh floor. He paces. He says nothing, but the doors still appear for him.
As he walks inside, he is amazed. There is nothing except galaxies in the night sky and stars in their glory and hazy fogs and asteroid belts and cold moons.
He is surprised that it still works, and that he cannot see the burns and the sears of the Fiendfyre curse against the walls.
He does nothing except sit down and marvel the cosmos. He does not need food. He does not need drink. He needs nothing now. His belly is filled with stars and planets. He does not need to breathe, for the universe will sustain him. He needs nothing but the beauty of the heavens and the celestial planets and he can live forever floating with content.
He stays in the Room of Requirement until midnight.
When he leaves, the want of the real world comes crashing down on him. He is famished and parched and stiff from sitting down all day. He staggers down the stairs, until he reaches the basement. He walks slowly until he gets to the kitchens. The elves are not there. Perhaps they retire at night, too.
He walks the whole length of the kitchen. There is still food about. He picks up a steak-and-kidney pie, a bottle of butterbeer and a green apple.
He sits on the kitchen floor, eating in the silence, staring up at the stars he cannot see. He does not flinch when Harry Potter comes in.
The Chosen One has obviously had his life on track. The hero, his little trio, and his girlfriend. The perfect life. Of course, Draco knows that this is not entirely the case, but he wants a reason to be jealous.
“Malfoy.” Potter breathes out. Draco looks away from the stars and turns to meet him. With the perfect façade of indifference he arches an eyebrow cooly.
Potter looks rather flustered. “What are you doing here?”
“I could say the same for you.” He replies. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Draco asks, not meanly.
“Er, we broke up a while ago.”
“Oh.” He says, genuinely surprised.
Potter looks at him for a minute longer, then walks away, probably to get some food.
A minute later, he walks back towards Draco, a plate with treacle tart in his hands. He plops himself down rather roughly next to Draco. Draco pretends not to notice, and looks up again, admiring the stars he cannot see. However, for some reason, the ceiling starts to shimmer and then he can see the night sky and the twinkling orbs against the midnight blue backdrop.
Stunned, he turns to Potter, abandoning his pie. Potter looks rather embarrassed.
“I’m not stalking you or anything! It’s just that, well, today I went to the Room of Requirement. I don’t know why, but I saw you. You weren’t moving or anything. You were just floating in the air surrounded by stars and stuff. You looked really... peaceful.” He admits.
Draco finally stops staring at him and looks back up at the sky, admiring the stars he can see.
“Thank you.” He hesitates. “Harry.”
Harry smiles at him, and he soars in to the heavens once more.
“No problem. Draco.” He replies. Together, they eat and drink to their heart’s content. They do not say anything, for the silence of new friendship is great and fragile, and it would not do to break it so early.
The day after is a surprise for Draco. He is in the library, reading, when Harry comes.
“Hey Draco!” He says rather loudly, making everyone stare at him and Harry, confused.
Harry ignores them and plops himself in front of Draco’s empty table. Draco is shocked.
“Have you done the Charms assignment? I have no idea what to do, and Hermione’s not helping me with it.”
And just like that, the friendship clicks into place.
The following weeks are both better and worse for Draco. Better because of Harry, and now his little trio too. Granger Hermione is an absolute diamond, and she and him now often have intellectual debates. Weasley isn’t as welcoming, but he is still courteous nevertheless (mostly due to Hermione keeping him in line.) He definitely isn’t a part of their trio, but now he has friends. Most of the Slytherins in their year didn’t come back, and the only ones that did never talked to him much. He still talked to Pansy and Blaise, but only through owls, and if he was lucky enough, the Floo.
It is worse because the bullying has become worse too. Of course, normally, Draco wouldn’t let this affect him, but it is very hard to think of galaxies while being hexed so badly he can’t even stand. People accuse him of doing something to Harry, even though there was no way he could have, with his wand and his probation.
Of course, people always need to blame someone. Once, Smith even used the Cruciatus curse on him, and he couldn’t help but scream and beg, but Smith was merciless and used it countless times until Harry burst in and beat the shit out of him. At that point, Draco was barely conscious, but he remembered the way Harry’s knuckles had been covered in blood, the way it took three people plus several restraining charms to hold him down. Then he faded into black, illuminated softly with the stars.
He wakes up grasping the sheets and sitting up abruptly. He looks around, frantic. He’s in on a hospital bed. In the hospital wing. Then he starts to feel the after-effects of the curse. He groans.
He looks up. It’s nighttime. Without thinking, he stands up from his bed, even though his body screams in protest. He walks until he reaches the astronomy tower. He is alone. He sits and looks up at the stars, drinking in the scene. He drinks and drinks until he is content. He can feel the stardust in his belly, the liquid light in his veins. He breathes in, then out. He is at peace.
He trudges back to the hospital wing at half past six to get his books and his bag. Madame Pomfrey is worried, but she doesn’t hassle him too much. As he is about to leave, she slips him a little tub. He opens it, and the smell of ointment hits his nose.
“For minor injuries. She whispers. Draco is surprised. Then he smiles.
“Thank you.” He says. She beams. “Anytime!”
He walks away from the hospital with a smile on his face.
Breakfast is quiet. He eats some toast. As he scans the Hall, he catches Harry looking at him. Harry smiles, and Draco smiles back.
It is Monday, so he has classes. First period is double Potions, which really should be illegal. He walks into the dungeons, determined not to become moody. He only gets one tripping jinx.
“Good morning class!” Slughorn booms. Draco listens as the bigger man talks about the potion they are brewing (Amortentia) and how it is important to their grades. They will brew it in pairs over the course of nine days. After that, they’re going to brew the extremely challenging Felix Felicis to make up the rest of their grade.
Since there are 13 people in their Potions class, Draco starts to get ready to work by himself. He doesn’t mind, after all it reduces the risk of-
“Hey Draco?” He looks up and sees Harry looking down at him.
“Wanna pair up?”
Draco is shocked for a moment, before snapping out of it.
“Sure.” He smiles.
Draco leaves to get the ingredients while Harry sets up the cauldron. As he reaches for the powdered moonstone, someone shoved into him and he trips.
“Are you fucking blind?” He asks, annoyed. He looks up and sees a Hufflepuff. Macmillan, he thinks. Normally, he would keep quiet, but he has had it with these people and all their shit.
Macmillan sneers at him. “Fuck off, Malfoy.”
“Go fuck a troll, Macmillan.” Draco snaps. He gets the moonstone and stomps away, annoyed.
He starts to arrange the ingredients around the gold cauldron.
“Ok let’s start grinding the peppermint flower heads.” He says. Harry taps his shoulder.
“What?” He asks roughly.
“You’re finally coming back.” Harry smiles. Draco opens his mouth, then closes it. He flushes. But it is true. His old self-confident nature is coming back. It makes him feel familiar again, like this is just first year and he’s being rejected a handshake and a friendship. He smiles, nostalgic.
The rest of the lesson is spent in silence, with them adding the peppermint, moonstone and rose thorns in silence. At the end of the period, they take the cauldron to the back of the class and cover it with a silk cloth. They agree that they’ll both check on it after dinner for the next week to stir it and add the final ingredients.
“Thanks for pairing with me.” Draco says genuinely.
“Christ, you’re becoming more like Luna.” Harry says, bewildered. Draco freezes for a moment, then laughs.
Harry hesitates, then starts to laugh too.
“Perhaps I am.” Draco admits. “Honestly, it isn’t actually that bad.”
He and Harry talk all the way to Arithmancy, where Draco has his next class. As Harry leaves, Draco feels lightheaded. The stars were doing their magic.
Arithmancy goes by smoothly, and Draco has a free period now. He walks around the castle, looking around wherever he goes. He takes twists and turns he is unfamiliar with, until he is in a section of the castle that he hasn’t seen before.
It’s filled with abandoned classrooms, covered in cobwebs. He wanders around aimlessly, looking around. In one classroom, he sees yellow feathers strewn on the floor, though he can’t imagine why they’re there.
He walks into a particular classroom that has a beautiful view of the Quidditch fields. Draco wonders if he can ever go back to playing again. Besides, he had wanted to become a professional player. He was talented on a broom, even though he bought his way in.
Maybe he will.
He spends the rest of the free period trying to locate his way out of the mysterious halls. He finally finds a hidden staircase which leads him to one of the the main staircases.
He makes his way down for lunch in the Great Hall. He doesn’t eat much, just a tomato sandwich and a bit of lemonade. Harry waves at him from across the Hall. He waves back.
On the way to Charms, someone trips him. In response, he whirls around and snarls “Trip me again and you’ll regret it.”
He says it so fiercely that the Gryffindork actually backs up. Draco tilts his chin up and walks away imperiously. He can hear people mutter, but he doesn’t care. He walks proudly all the way to Charms, then deflates a little. Once he enters inside, he spots an empty table and starts to walk there when a hand yanks him back into another empty seat. He’s about to curse when he notices Harry, Hermione and Weasley sitting with him. Harry’s hand is on his wrist.
“Come sit with us.” Harry says. In that moment, Draco absolutely loves him because he isn’t saying it with pity, but just nonchalantly, like they do this everyday.
“Alright.” He says. Hermione smiles, and Weasley surprisingly grins at him. Perhaps she finally knocked some sense into him.
He’s starting to like having friends all over again. They’re much more fun than stars.
Charms is amazing. Draco spends the next ninety minutes laughing and smiling as Harry and Ron fail spectacularly to cast an illusion of a cat dancing on top of a water fountain. Of course, Hermione gets in her first try. It takes Draco two tries to get it. It takes Harry and Ron the whole period to even get the cat. The four of them leave the classroom happily. They spend their break on the abandoned staircase, making jokes and laughing. Afterwards, Hermione leaves for Ancient Runes, while Ron goes to the common room for his free period and Harry and Draco leave for Transfiguration.
McGonagall simply tells them to revise in pairs on human transfiguration, which leads to groans, which leads to a silencing stare by McGonagall. She morphs into a cat and sits on her desk, watching them for the rest of the class.
As they practice on each other, Harry somehow manages to turn Draco’s hair purple. He nearly shrieks, and in retaliation he turns Harry’s nose bright red.
Harry gasps, then turns Draco’s eyebrows pink.
After a while, they are both a multitude of colors that cause people to stare and whisper.
If McGonagall noticed (which she most likely did) she didn’t comment.
For once, Draco doesn’t care. He looks at Harry, with his yellow hair and red nose and blue eyebrows and purple eyes and feels something turn deep within him, like a star being born. He can feel the star being formed in his core, but this star is love, not quite platonic and not quite romantic either. He can feel the burst in his belly, and knows that the love is pure, for the one that rescued him from his misery, for sooner or later he sure would have pitched himself off the astronomy tower from sheer madness.
He waits until they walk out of class along a hidden staircase.
The old Draco would try to hide it away, but the old Draco never did anything right. Draco will be the new Draco, and share a piece of the star with Harry, even if he doesn’t want it, for he has many, many more.
“I love you.” He says simply. Harry looks shocked.
“It is not quite romantic, not quite platonic either. It is simply love, and I wish to share it with you.” Draco says.
Harry looks stunned. Draco can feel the rejection before he says it.
“It is alright. Perhaps I can-“
He doesn’t finish before Harry pulls him towards his body and effectively shuts him up by kissing him. It is short, but pure and full of star dust and the origins of the cosmos and everything everything.
“I think I love you too.” Harry says. He looks strangely flushed. Draco looks at his body and notices that Harry is half an inch taller than him, and broader too. Draco places a hand on his chest and feels for the soft beating of muscle under his robes. It is strangely quickening, but beating strong nonetheless. He looks up to Harry, and they have their second kiss.
They don’t have anymore classes, so they spend their time walking around the grounds, talking and kissing like there’s no tomorrow.
By the time they go back to the Great Hall for dinner, it’s hustling and bustling and nobody notices them slip in. For the first time, Draco sits at the Gryffindor table. People stare and whisper, but he’s on top of the world now. Hermione has a wicked gleam in her eye, while Ron is just confused as to why they’ve been AWOL for the whole afternoon. Harry snickers and grasps Draco’s hand tightly under the table. Draco squeezes back.
After dinner, they go to check on their potion. It’s started to develop that characteristic sheen. They stir it seven times anti-clockwise, and put it back to stew.
“It’s starting to look normal.” Harry says.
“Of course it is. My potion brewing skills are impeccable.” Draco says, not haughtily. Harry laughs and bends for a quick kiss.
“Git.” Harry murmurs against his lips.
“At least I’m a sexy one.” At that, Harry laughs out loud, making Draco laugh too.
They walk out of the dungeons and walk wordlessly to the Room of Requirement. It opens for them once they pace. As before, it’s filled with spinning galaxies and brilliant nebulas.
“This is home.” Draco says. And Harry kisses him and one by one, the stars explode, searing them and filling them with light, until they are glowing through the cracks in their skin, and they are everything.
Then they talk. They talk about their lives, and mainly the War. It is hard, and there are quite a few tears, but they manage to let it out and that’s what matters most.
As they talk, they stargaze. Draco points out his constellation. It has no bright stars.
“Perhaps you can make them yourself.” Harry says. Then they kiss, and they fail to notice that in the Draco constellation, the stars twinkle and gleam, for they have made the bright stars for themselves.