Dedicated to l____________l

Prompted by the songs "I Think We're Alone Now" by Tiffany and "Roses" by The Chainsmokers

The world hates them.

And honestly, in these times, it makes sense.

There are rules, there are codes, there are restrictions put in place to keep people happy.

But, Harry thinks as the wind blows through his hair, the rules can't be there to make everyone happy, because he certainly wasn't happy when he was following them.

He's happy now that he's breaking them, with the wind blowing through his hair and feet pounding on the ground, with screams and shouts fading in the distance as he outruns the people with knives and words that are even sharper and hate filled in their veins.

He supposes if he had been alone in his running from the hate-filled town behind him, he wouldn't have been as happy as he is now.

His happiness comes from the laughing blonde boy, breathlessly running next to him, fingers messily interlocked with his own, half-pulling and half-being pulled as they run at uneven paces in an attempt to get away.

When they were young, they would do this too, run around town holding hands, just laughing and being children. They would dance together and smile and hug and enjoy life.

But the others didn't understand. Their parents would tell them to behave, that it wasn't appropriate, to watch how they played, because if they weren't careful, people were going to think they were gay. They would pull them apart and shake their heads and tell them it was wrong.

They tried to explain that they were friends, that Harry's mom didn't care when he held hands with Hermione, that Draco's mom didn't care when he hugged Pansy.

They were just met with "that's different" and given no other answers.

It never stopped them.

As they got older, it progressed into sneaking out at night, jumping out their windows into the other's arms, laughing breathlessly. They would sneak out to the cliff hanging over the water, holding hands, and Harry would watch in fascination as Draco inhaled something he called "marijuana" and would blow out beautiful little clouds into the sunset.

One night, Harry had asked him if he could try it, and Draco had given him a little smirk, nodding and taking one more inhale from the blunt.

Harry didn't expect him to lean over and kiss him softly.

He tasted like the stuff he blew into the sky, and Harry felt lightheaded. He wasn't sure if it was from the smoke or the kiss, but either way, he decided he was in love.

Draco pulled away, looking nervous, and asked him if that was okay.

Harry had nodded, and they kissed again. And again. And again.

There was another night, where Draco had asked him if he wanted to go swimming. Harry agreed cautiously, unsure of how they would get all the way down to the beach when it was this dark.

Draco had flashed him a little grin, before taking off his shirt and shoes and running forward, jumping off the cliff.

Harry gasped, but watched as Draco landed in the water. Five seconds passed, and then Draco's head had popped up from the water, grin illuminating his face from 40 feet below.

Harry shook his head and thought I'm a fucking idiot before he, too, took off his shirt and shoes and jumped off.

The water knocked the wind out of him on impact, and for just a second, he panicked, but then his head broke above the water and he inhaled sharply.

Draco was laughing, his head thrown back, wet blonde curls glinting off the moonlight, a smile lighting up his whole face.

Harry swam over to him, pulled him close, and cut off his laughter with a kiss.

When he pulled away, Draco stared at him with wide eyes.

"What was that for?" he whispered breathlessly.

"You're beautiful," Harry murmured in response, and then they were kissing again.

They eventually found themselves on the beach, and Harry picked up a small, swirly seashell, getting on one knee and extending it to Draco.

"Will you be mine forever?" he asked dramatically.

Draco laughed softly, but gently took the seashell from Harry.

"I will," he replied.

They had spent hours at that little beach, so long that the sun had started to rise, and they realized that they had to get back.

They walked up the cliffs carefully and went to find their clothes.

Instead, they found their parents.

Harry had immediately let go of Draco's hand, pushing him behind him slightly.

"What is the meaning of this?" Harry's mother had hissed. She was holding his shirt, her green eyes burning into Harry's.

"We're going home. You're to never see this boy again," Draco's father had added coldly. He stepped forward, grabbing Draco's arm, and he and Draco's mother dragged the boy away.

The seashell fell out of Draco's hand, bouncing and dropping off the cliff.

The next few nights, they had slept in their rooms with barred windows and locked doors, only allowed out when their parents awoke.

Harry had once awoken to something hitting his window, and he walked over to his window to see Draco holding ricks and tossing them at his window.

Draco waved sadly. Harry tried to smile, but the bars on his window just reminded him of their situation.

I love you, Draco mouthed.

Harry closed his eyes, hitting his head against the bars. He felt a tear slip down his cheek.

When he opened his eyes to repeat the phrase, Draco had been gone.

The very next night, he woke to the same sound. He rushed to his window this time, but frowned at what he saw, confused.

Draco draped a large white sheet over a tree, and he had a small box on the ground, as well as a chair.

The blonde smiled, waving at Harry from several feet below.

Harry waved back, still confused.

Draco pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the box lit up, and it shone an image onto the sheet.

Harry gasped when he realized Draco had set up the projector to play a movie for them.

Draco turned back with a satisfied smile, and Harry couldn't help but smile back.

God, he loved him.

They got about halfway through the movie when Harry heard a noise. Instantly, Draco grabbed the projector and turned it off, blowing a kiss to Harry before darting away.

Seconds later, a couple walked by, pointing at the sheet in confusion, but continued walking.

When the sun rose, Harry had a plan.

When he was allowed out of his room, he pretended like it was going to be any normal day. But when he went out to town to go shopping with his parents, he enacted his plan.

"I have to go to the bathroom, he said quickly, rushing off.

He ran through the crowd of people in the market until he found Draco's house.

He quickly climbed the low balcony and knocked on the glass door to Draco's room. Draco had apparently talked himself out of imprisonment quickly.

Draco looked up, shocked, and opened the door.

"What are you-"

Harry kissed him.

"I love you," he breathed when he pulled away.

Draco gasped softly but repeated the words.

"Run away with me."

Draco didn't hesitate, didn't even stop to think. He just nodded, and Harry jumped off his balcony. Draco joined him, Harry grabbed his hand, and they started to run.

It took people a couple of seconds to realize what was happening, but someone screamed something about faggots, and suddenly, heads were turned and weapons were being grabbed and the screaming began.

He heard his parents scream his name, but he didn't dare turn around. They just ran as fast as they could, too scared to turn and see the crowd behind them.

The world hates them.

And honestly, in these times, it makes sense.

There are rules, there are codes, there are restrictions put in place to keep people happy.

But, Harry thinks as the wind blows through his hair, the rules can't be there to make everyone happy, because he certainly wasn't happy when he was following them.

He's happy now that he's breaking them, with the wind blowing through his hair and feet pounding on the ground, with screams and shouts fading in the distance as he outruns the people with knives and words that are even sharper and hate filled in their veins.

He supposes if he had been alone in his running from the hate-filled town behind him, he wouldn't have been as happy as he is now.

His happiness comes from the laughing blonde boy, breathlessly running next to him, fingers messily interlocked with his own, half-pulling and half-being pulled as they run at uneven paces in an attempt to get away.

They reach a place Harry recognizes far too well, and neither of them even bother to think before they jump.

Cold. That's the first thing Harry registers before he realizes that even with the impact of water, he's still holding Draco's hand.

They swim to the shore, and Draco tackles him, laughing and kissing him.

"I think we did it. I think we're alone now," he breathes.

"We should keep going. We'll find somewhere that will accept us," Harry replies.

Draco stands, holding out his hand to Harry. "Let's go."

Harry takes it, standing and smiling.

The world almost seems silent around them. The others haven't reached the cliff yet, and it's just the two of them, alone and breathless and never happier.

As they walk down the beach, Harry bends down to grab a seashell.

"Don't let go of me," Draco pouts.

Harry takes his hand again, handing him the small, swirly seashell he found in the sand.

"I'll never let you go," he whispers.