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Drarry Drabbles

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Da Capo - Part 11

Part 1-5 | Part 6 - 10

Coda (Italian: 'tail'). The tail end of a piece of music. Usually a section which indicates the end of the piece or section is approaching.

The wind howled where he sat, his back unsupported,his legs dangling off the roof and the smoke of one of the chimneys going off in the air, leaving grey clouds behind. He liked this peace, the silence, the scene in all because perhaps he was always looking for that void inside him to be filled and this helped him,the bizarre evening with one part of the sky already turning a darker shade of blue while the rest was painted in the pink orange sky, he liked it, he liked it all here, right where he was yet he felt himself to be in one of those moments where he’s diving in the ocean looking for something only he doesn’t know what it is, he’s just going deeper and deeper but he doesn’t even realise what it is. There were so many moments in his life that felt like blank canvas waited to be painted with or he felt as if he stood before a blank canvas with a brush in his hand, a stroke in position but he doesn’t know what to paint and it scares him that he doesn’t. He heard someone once say that he was the master of his own life, that his decisions, his choices, his life all lied in his own hands but he had often related himself to the animals left in the circus to perform, he knows what he needs to perform because he’s been trained to, he had rehearsed it but when the time comes when he’s on stage and it’s all real, he’s alone and he does as he had practiced and everyone in the audience thinks he came up with it, that he did it but that was the thing, he didn’t, he never did anything on his own,he was just a well trained circus animal ready to play fetch on stage. The silence grew louder in his chest and he stared longingly at the view reminiscing his conversations, the one with Draco which was more a dissolved argument than a conversation and the conversation with Ron 3 days ago . Reality crushed him like every other time and he fucked up once again, like he did several times in his life, like he did with everyone, like he fucked up at work today, he hated this him, the one who fucked up a lot, the one who let people down, the one who messed up relationships, the one where he remained alone bearing the consequences of fucking up, he wishes he didn’t fuck up but he felt all his life has been nothing but a fuck up and maybe that’s why he left everything behind so he could relearn life, so he could undo himself, be a new transformed Harry who didn’t fuck up and everyone would love him but it always felt impossible for him to not fuck up, it was as if it ran in his veins to mess it all up.

He visions the look on Draco’s face the night he left, the night they fought recently, he can imagine that it was the same pained look he woke upto everyday after Harry left him. He thought he did good, leaving Draco, abandoning him so he could see clearly why being with Harry was only a ruin, a sort of abysmal curse but the day he held the phone to his hear to call him back, he knew somewhere deep inside him that Draco didn’t see Harry that way, not yet at least. He wanted him to hate Harry, to finally open his closed eyes and see why being with Harry was just a stupid mistake but in his moments of weaknesses, he seek his comfort, his touch, his soft eyes, his soft smile, his love for him that he knows still linger somewhere, behind all of it, there’s still love and Draco didn’t deny it the night Draco left, he didn’t run away like Harry did, he faced his love and he conquered it and he stood with love and he exposed his love for Harry like an open wound but instead of healing it, Harry digs the flesh a little deeper so he was hurt, more, but maybe Draco was a fool in love that Harry knew he’d wait. He said it so himself that night that he’d wait, it wasn’t in his words that gave him assurance, it was in his face, in his eyes, in his pain that he’d wait when Harry is ready but how long would he wait until he have to give up. Would he ever even give up ? If 10 years from now if Harry doesn’t return home or he doesn’t reply to his calls, would he give up ? Would he settle with a man who would love him and cherish him and promise to love him to his grave, would Draco go with the man or would he wait for Harry to run to the altar to stop his wedding or would he wait for Harry late at night in his marriage to pick up the undialled call or would he look at strangers in the store and mistake them to be Harry and accidentally wave at them, would he name his kid Harry because it reminded him of the early happiness in his life, would he wait or would he give up if Harry decides to never return ?

Harry likes to imagine a life where Draco waits, a life where the fight over who tore the grocery bag or who’s turn is it to change the toothpaste or who forgot to put the milk in the fridge or a life where Draco have sweet nicknames for Harry each day, a life where they celebrate anniversaries with their loved on. A simpler life, the one where Harry doesn’t mess up but when an year ago when he used to see Draco stressed over things that Harry caused, he just wished to take his pain away, his sufferings away and that time the answer seemed to be leaving him and it maybe worked for a while, but then the void started to grow day by day as he walked the streets of Paris alone, as he visited all those famous places alone, as he started to shop alone, he felt the void growing and no air, no water, no sand, nothing extinguished it because it wasn’t a fire, it was in its own ‘matter’ that took up space, weight and mass, a weight that felt heavier day by day. He remembers one day when he woke up and he was in a good mood for once in a very long while and he remembered discussing with Draco about how Paris was a nice place to go for a trip and he booked the tickets as a surprise for their coming anniversary but that night when he had came from work, he saw Draco so much stressed from work, from things at home, from family, people that Harry tore those tickets apart without even thinking twice, now he likes to think that maybe taking Draco on that trip would’ve changed everything, for better or for worse, either on that trip Draco could’ve realised how Harry was a burden in his life or he could’ve realised that Harry was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with but he never waited to find out because he was impulsive and he took a decision so fast that he never even fully thought of what would’ve happened and somewhere Harry pretends its alright because he could not have bore such a result, he could not have bared being the one in his life or the worse where Draco would’ve decided to leave Harry because it seemed better when he didn’t know the truth but he wishes a lot that he knew it, he wishes that he had taken him on that trip and found out the answers that beheld, but again that’s what his entire life was, looking for answers for questions he never asked. There are questions he had pinned in the last page of his journal he opens only when he have a new one and the most highlighted one was the one " why did I come to Paris ? Why did I run away ?"

Maybe Draco was a bait he fed the answer as to the question but it had always been bigger than that, he knew it, he knew when he felt it when he blamed draco most nights that he ran away, he can feel it stirring inside his bones like an earthquake ready to divide the earth in two, but he doesn't know, he doesn't know what the answer is, neither is he sure he would ever be ready to learn that answer. He liked to live in peace that he didn't know it, yet he spent most of his days wondering about the dangling question just like his feets right now. He knows the answer wouldn't make any difference but he likes to think it would, he likes to imagine that he knows the answer, he likes to imagine that the answer lies in his fist but he's just too afraid to let go.

He heard the screeching of the door open behind him of the roof and he turned around to see Thomas walking in with a ball in his hand.

" Que fais-tu ici ?" ( What are you doing here ?) Thomas asked walking towards Harry, his ball tucked under his arm

" La vie " ( life ) Harry Chuckled.

Thomas didn't say anything but sat down besides Harry, a little scared to keep his feet dangling so he held onto the wall too tight.

" won't fall " Harry assured

" Comment savez-vous ?" ( How do you know ) Thomas snapped lightly

" this wall beneath " Harry pointed at the wall beneath his dangling feet. Thomas relaxed a little but still held onto to the wall tightly.

" Et la vie alors ? " ( So what about life ) Thomas asked turning to face Harry a little.

Harry chuckled " Tout " ( everything )

" dis-moi tout alors " ( tell me all about it then ) Thomas said.

Harry confusedly frowned at Thomas, trying to reconnect in his head the meaning of the words.

" tell me about it?" Thomas said in his french accent.

" Ce n'est rien " ( it's nothing ) Harry shook his head

" tell me" Thomas egged.

Harry stared at Thomas, a little boy of 12 for longer than a few minutes then thought what harm could it do.

" Un garçon " Harry said with a smile ( a boy )

" Celui qui a visité ?" ( The one who visited ) Thomas asked curiously

Harry nodded " Utilisé pour sortir avec lui" ( used to date him )

" you don't say " Thomas chuckled.

Harry smiled at Thomas confused " Pourquoi ?" ( Why ?)

" ah, he love you- Beaucoup " ( very much ) Thomas chuckled.

" how do you- did he tell you ?" Harry asked curiously

" no, I just see " Thomas answered.

Harry wanted to Laugh, he was a mere boy of 12, how possibly could he had seen the love or anything that existed but Harry always knew Thomas has been far wiser for his age and had noticed thing's many failed to notice.

" Qu'as-tu vu ?" ( What did you see ?) Harry asked

" Amour " ( love ) Thomas smiled.

" what sort ?" Harry asked now genuinely being curious, as if it'd help find answers.

" you see- this " he picked up his ball and pointed at it. Harry nodded. " Je joue au foot tous les jours, j'adore ça. Comme si c'était mon oxygène. He love you like that " ( I play soccer every day, I love it. Like it's my oxygen)

Harry thinks he barely understood it, he thinks he doesn't understand his french but he did, he knew when he picked up his ball, he knew where he was going just when he pointed at it, he understood the end most of all.

" football- my life- he love you- like your his life " Thomas said.

Harry stared at Thomas with a ball in his hand for very long time, he could hear him breathing, the scratching of his elbow on the ball, the sound of the chimney blowing off, the sound of a pressure cooker giving a whistle, he could listen it all and yet he was stuck with his echoing words from Thomas "he love you- like your his life "

Draco loved harry like he was his life, was it true, he didn't know.

" Commentaire savez-vous ?" ( How do you know ) Harry finally asked.

" Vous pouviez le voir, à la façon dont il vous rendait visite, à la façon dont il vous achetait à manger, à la façon dont vous riiez ensemble quand vous montiez les escaliers, c'était un rire plutôt agaçant mais c'était un vrai rire, Vous pouviez le voir dans la façon dont il vous regardait, dans la façon dont il marchait avec vous, parlait avec vous, dans tout. Il t'aime, beaucoup, tellement" Thomas answered truthfully.

(You could see him, the way he visited you, the way he bought you food, the way you laughed together when you walked up the stairs, it was a pretty annoying laugh but it was a real one, the laugh,You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way he walked with you, spoke with you, in everything. He loves you, a lot, so much)

Harry's French wasn't as strong as it should've been and he knew he didn't understood most of it but he could feel it when Thomas said everything, he meant Draco loved him in everything, In the way he laughed with him, in the way he talked with him, in the way he visited him, in the way he walked with him, he loved him in everything and a lot too.

" Comment en savez-vous autant ? " ( How you know so much ?) Harry asked after a while.

" watching " Thomas replied, then pointed at the dying sun and smiled " it's beautiful "

Harry smiled after a while too. It was beautiful. It was very much indeed.

" you love him too ?" Thomas asked.

Harry nodded " too much that it hurts "

Thomas understandably nodded.

" he loved you too much- must hurt him too "

Harry frowned, it was like it just hit him, it must hurt him too, not because Harry wasn't with him, it must because he had Harry and yet didn't, it must hurt him because Harry's hurting and he knew it, he knew it because he was waiting, because he said he would, because he knew harry was hurting. It occured to him then that Draco knew all of it, but was waiting for Harry to speak about it, that it was hurting him to remain in love with someone who was also in Love but was afraid of it, and he knew it, Draco knew all of it yet pretended he didn't.

Harry didn't say anything for a long while after that just thinking of Draco until it started getting darker and he realised they had been sitting here for a long time doing nothing.

" Je ne sais pas pourquoi je suis venu à Paris ? " ( I don't know why I came to Paris ) Harry abruptly said.

Thomas startled a bit until he relaxed then spoke up " Pourquoi veux-tu rester ?" ( why do you want to stay )

" Je ne sais pas " ( I don't know ) Harry honestly Answered.

Thomas shook his head then got off the fence wall and jumped behind to walk back towards the door but he he remained there for a moment only to say " Alors trouve une raison de revenir en arrière " ( then find reasons to go back )

Harry looked at Thomas for moment longer than one until Thomas nodded, bidding a bye and left and Harry remained there thinking about what Thomas had just said and why it suddenly hit him hard.

He realised he finally reached the bottom of the ocean, there was no beyond anymore, not anymore at least, just going back.

I added the translation of French portions so you people could understand. Thanks for the support so far.

Requests open / MASTERLIST

Da capo - part 6

Trail post part 1 to 5

Ritenuto (Italian: ‘held back’)

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