![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archivethe idea is right, the rest is wrong.
i see draco wants to play hardball. fine. HARRY!
The Distance
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
addictedkitten and ethrosdemon
He had measured the distance between them in doors and scrolls and miles and blood, and yet it was never that considerable. It only ever seemed to be that way in his head, in *their* heads, and all Draco had to do was change his mind. Change *their* minds, and make Potter see how it could be. Should be. All Draco needed was time, a chance, that one opportunity where no one was provoked and for once they could be counted on to act their seventeen years.
Time as a distance, as a measurement of the difference between Draco and Harry was honestly, in Draco’s estimation, nothing. Some things would never change, some things would always be. There would always be a distance between the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Loved, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have something.
That there wasn’t *potential*.
Potter radiated potential, among many other things, and all he needed was a guide. Someone to show him the path – good and evil were only opposite ends of the same line. All Draco wanted to do was show Potter that he was both and neither; that *he* was the boy who lived -- with Death Eaters and lies and deception and Dark Arts – and that *he* was the boy who loved and hated and denied.
Perhaps if Draco had gotten to that compartment, all those years ago, before Weasley. Perhaps. And yet it was of no consequence concerning himself with things as they were before, only the future mattered now. Only the distance to be bridged was relevant. It was all a matter of relativity; of how close Harry was to Draco during Potions and of how far away he was during meals.
23 ½ steps between the Gryffindor table and the Slytherin one, and thin air was nothing compared to stares that crossed tables and penetrated bodies. Draco found that even when someone’s head was blocking his direct line of sight; he could still jump the gap. Close the distance, and Draco never had to be near Harry to be *near* him. He never had to talk to say what he wanted; the stares seemed to unsettle Potter more than all the insults.
The insults were thin ropes unable to hold Draco’s weight, to pull him up the walls that Potter had built. But there were other times that the wall was penetrable, and in Potions distance was negligible: the same workspace shared, the same ingredients halved. Hands reaching for the same thing at the same time, pausing for that extra second.
There’s never distance in touch, only in the mind, and Draco can see the gap closing, with every hesitation Harry makes. He knows that Harry will come to him one day, someday, and it will be enough for him. For them, and Draco does this, not for his father or Dumbledore, but for himself. Because the distance between Harry and himself is yawning chasm in his chest and it must be closed. Because Harry Potter put the distance between them seven years on the steps in front of the Great Hall, and if it’s not closed then Draco will fall into the void.
There will be problems and issues and malicious gossip and possibly Draco will be disowned, but Draco wants Harry Potter, he wants him badly enough that that is neither here nor there. In the end the distance between them will matter not.
i see draco wants to play hardball. fine. HARRY!
The Distance
For
addictedkitten and ethrosdemonHe had measured the distance between them in doors and scrolls and miles and blood, and yet it was never that considerable. It only ever seemed to be that way in his head, in *their* heads, and all Draco had to do was change his mind. Change *their* minds, and make Potter see how it could be. Should be. All Draco needed was time, a chance, that one opportunity where no one was provoked and for once they could be counted on to act their seventeen years.
Time as a distance, as a measurement of the difference between Draco and Harry was honestly, in Draco’s estimation, nothing. Some things would never change, some things would always be. There would always be a distance between the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Loved, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have something.
That there wasn’t *potential*.
Potter radiated potential, among many other things, and all he needed was a guide. Someone to show him the path – good and evil were only opposite ends of the same line. All Draco wanted to do was show Potter that he was both and neither; that *he* was the boy who lived -- with Death Eaters and lies and deception and Dark Arts – and that *he* was the boy who loved and hated and denied.
Perhaps if Draco had gotten to that compartment, all those years ago, before Weasley. Perhaps. And yet it was of no consequence concerning himself with things as they were before, only the future mattered now. Only the distance to be bridged was relevant. It was all a matter of relativity; of how close Harry was to Draco during Potions and of how far away he was during meals.
23 ½ steps between the Gryffindor table and the Slytherin one, and thin air was nothing compared to stares that crossed tables and penetrated bodies. Draco found that even when someone’s head was blocking his direct line of sight; he could still jump the gap. Close the distance, and Draco never had to be near Harry to be *near* him. He never had to talk to say what he wanted; the stares seemed to unsettle Potter more than all the insults.
The insults were thin ropes unable to hold Draco’s weight, to pull him up the walls that Potter had built. But there were other times that the wall was penetrable, and in Potions distance was negligible: the same workspace shared, the same ingredients halved. Hands reaching for the same thing at the same time, pausing for that extra second.
There’s never distance in touch, only in the mind, and Draco can see the gap closing, with every hesitation Harry makes. He knows that Harry will come to him one day, someday, and it will be enough for him. For them, and Draco does this, not for his father or Dumbledore, but for himself. Because the distance between Harry and himself is yawning chasm in his chest and it must be closed. Because Harry Potter put the distance between them seven years on the steps in front of the Great Hall, and if it’s not closed then Draco will fall into the void.
There will be problems and issues and malicious gossip and possibly Draco will be disowned, but Draco wants Harry Potter, he wants him badly enough that that is neither here nor there. In the end the distance between them will matter not.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
*only partially awake*
Date: 2002-08-21 12:33 pm (UTC)wait, I see I need to drink a cuppa to read this. It appears to be quite important to pay attention here.
Did you really say The Boy Who Lived? The pun was worth it, but still, I'm surprised due to some past remarks by you, dearest.
*sputtering* Wha...wha..wha? You should know what that was about, I will say no more lol
*sigh* //It was all a matter of relativity; of how close Harry was to Draco during Potions and of how far away he was during meals.// Yes, I love this v v much.
Ok, no. I won't finish commenting here. I will talk to you directly.
First, I need to maybe be able to tell you properly how I want to cry, becuase you're, you know, writing Draco and it's so good, and I feel kind of fucked up today.
Re: *only partially awake*
Date: 2002-08-21 03:04 pm (UTC)I know. it still makes me violently itch, but my snarky!draco was trying to be angsty and wouldn't cooperate. i see he and i are going to have to work some sort of cease-fire or something. i think he might be in cahoots with harry, it's rather worrisome.