les oiseaux volent à midi- the birds fly at noon

TW: mentions of suicide, death, and abuse

One for sorrow

Draco is born into tragedy.

When he was one, his grandfather died.

When he was three, his favorite house-elf killed himself.

When he was six, he met a nice girl at the park who his father immediately tore him away from, calling her a 'Mudblood'.

And now, at the ripe old age of ten, he feels what the back of his father's hand feels like for the first time. 

It won't be the last.

Two for joy

The rising, bubbling feeling of excitement spills into Harry's expression as he is welcomed to Gryffindor.

People stand and cheer and clap, and for the first time since he was a tiny baby, Harry feels valued.

It feels amazing.

Ron joins him a few minutes later, expression just as ecstatic as Harry feels.

The redhead leans over in his seat, smile present on his face, and gives Harry the first hug he can remember ever feeling.

It won't be the last.

Three for a girl

Pansy looks as uncomfortable as Draco feels as they dance. Her dress is a deep shade of coral, balancing on a fine line between pink and orange. It brightens her eyes and makes her hair appear darker than the black it already is, but she takes a moment to mutter to Draco that it's itchy as hell and there's a wire somewhere in it that pokes her every time she leans to the left.

Draco makes sure to dip her to the right a bit when they dance.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" his date murmurs, eyes falling on Granger. "Lavender is her color."

"You're supposed to be paying attention to me," Draco teases, but he relents that Granger looks quite lovely.

"Hey, feel free to stare at Potter's arse while I check out Granger."

Draco mock-scowls and dips Pansy to the left. She scowls as the wire pokes her, but no exclamation of protest escapes her lips. They were taught as children to keep their mouths shut through pain and discomfort.

Their fathers had cast the Cruciatus on them until they had learned that lesson.

He spins her and her dress fans out beautifully. Pansy smiles. She likes to feel like a princess.

Draco tries to make her feel like one as often as he can.

There aren't many eyes on them, most are split between the champions and their dates, but Draco is aware that there are lots of people around them and there are a few people who cast glances their way, so he pulls Pansy in and kisses her.

She makes no sound of surprise, just carefully presses back against him in a practiced manoeuver.

Her lips are soft, and she's a good kisser, but Draco is only made more painfully aware of the fact that boys are better kissers and he'd rather have taken Potter or Diggory or Blaise to the Yule Ball instead of Pansy.

He hates himself for it.

Four for a boy

Harry tries not to be stunned by Cedric as the boy extends a hand to help him up, mentioning how tricky Portkeys are and telling him to have fun at the Quidditch World Cup.

He tries not to stare at Cedric as his name is called and his face lights up as he stands and joins the Champions.

He tries not to meet Cedric's eye when he joins the Champions as well, confused and scared.

He tries not to linger on Cedric's smile he casts at his friends.

He tries not to let his heart sink when Cho tells him she's going with him, because fuck, he was gonna ask Cedric next.

He tries not to think that Cedric looks so beautiful dancing around at the ball.

He tries not to let his heart leap when Cedric grabs his arm, eyes bright, and tells him the Prefects' bathroom is a good place for a bath.

He tries not to let that sound like an innuendo in his head.

He tries to focus on cutting Ron free, even as Cedric swims away with Cho and Harry feels stupid for letting his heart sink at the prospect that he could ever be Cedric's most precious person.

He tries not to jump around when Cedric meets him after the second task and tells him that Champions aren't allowed to be each other's most precious person, but if they were, Harry would have been down there.

He tries not to fall a bit in love when Cedric kisses him.

He tries to save Cedric's life.

He tries to get Cedric's scream out of his head.

He fails every time.

He hates himself for it.

Five for silver

The silver snakes on the doorknobs of the Malfoy have always creeped Draco out.

The silver bands wrapped around the dining chairs remind him of how privileged he is.

The silver rings on his parents' fingers make him wonder if he'll ever find love.

The silver eyes that meet his in the mirror are filled with hatred for the person they look at.

The silver posts on his bed make him think of Hogwarts, and how much he'd rather be there.

The silver glitter he puts on his eyelids makes his father scream at him.

The silver dagger Bellatrix so enjoys dragging along the walls makes him want to cry.

He hates silver. 

Six for gold

The gold letters that flutter around on Valentine's day annoy Harry.

The gold bedframes of the Gryffindor beds have heard too many Silenced screams.

The gold flames of the fireplace flicker out as Harry Firecalls Sirius for the last time.

The gold cup in Dumbledore's office, a memorial to Cedric, burns Harry's heart.

The gold sparkles on Luna's cheeks that Harry wishes he was brave enough to try.

The gold lion in the common room, a symbol of the bravery he's supposed to have.

The gold sword he killed the basilisk with hangs above his bed.

He hates gold.

Seven for a secret, never to be told

He thinks if he can wear long sleeves all year, he should be fine. He's a proper wizard, proper wizards wear robes.

His anxiety spikes when he realizes Harry Potter is following him around school, and he tries desperately to calm down. He can't know, he can't know, it's not possible.

"I know what you did, Malfoy."

Draco's head snaps up from the sink, and he turns, horrified.

HE CAN'T KNOW HE CAN'T KNOW HE CAN'T KN-

"You hexed her, didn't you?"

Draco wants to sigh in relief. He wants to scream. He wants to show Potter his arm. He wants to cry. He wants to beg Potter for his mother's protection. He wants to die.

Instead of doing any of those, Draco points his wand at Potter. "Cruc-"

"Sectumsempra!"

Every fiber of Draco's body splits apart. It's the worst pain he's ever been in, and he can't breathe, and Potter just stares at him in horrified shock, and Draco is left with a bitter realization, and if he could, he would laugh aloud.

 At least he got one of his wishes.

Eight for a wish

I wish none of this had ever happened, Harry thinks. His wand is pointed at Voldemort and the Great Hall is silent and Harry wishes none of this had ever happened.

He wishes that his parents were still alive. He wishes Remus and Sirius and Cedric and Tonks and Colin and Hedwig and Moody and Fred were still alive. He wishes he had stopped this earlier. He wishes Voldemort would die.

"I am the Master of the Elder Wand," he hears himself say, but it's detached and he wonders absently if he'll ever heal from the trauma of today.

Voldemort looks enraged and shouts the Killing Curse and Harry responds with the Disarming Spell, and the wand flies into his hand.

Voldemort dies.

At least he got one of his wishes.

Nine for a kiss

It's the first time he's seen the man in three years when Harry Potter comes up to Draco at the Greengrass Annual Christmas Ball, smiling brilliantly.

Draco is confused, because this is Harry fucking Potter and he's smiling at him, but before Draco can give some witty statement, Harry simply asks "Can I kiss you?"

Draco freezes. "Pardon?"

Harry points above them, where a sprig of mistletoe curls in on itself. "I was gonna just kiss you, but I thought it would be quite molest-y if I didn't ask first."

Draco is still stunned, but he manages to say "Uh, yeah, I guess," and Harry smiles and leans forward, capturing Draco's lips in the softest kiss he's ever experienced.

Harry pulls back, his smile still present, and he asks Draco if he'd like to grab dinner sometime.

Draco still doesn't know how the fuck this is happening, but he agrees.

And he starts dating Harry Potter.

Ten for a bird, you must not miss

Harry thinks it's quite honestly stupid that he misses Hedwig.

So many people died in the war, but Hedwig was a part of Harry's life too, a part of his childhood, and he knew he'd have to say goodbye to her in a few years anyway, but that was just it, he would get a goodbye. He never got it.

One day Harry snaps and he spends a whole week cleaning the entirety of Grimmauld Place. When things are stuck to walls (like unnamed screaming paintings), he destroys the wall and makes a bigger room. He buys new furniture and decorates it beautifully and gets new carpet and paints the walls.

And when he's all done with that, he walks into an empty room that he hadn't known what to do with, and he spends two days painting a mural on an entire wall of Hedwig flying.

Then he starts going out. He goes to auctions and charity events, and he even attends the Greengrass Christmas Ball, where he is surprised but pleased to see Draco Malfoy.

And he decides to hell with it, if he's gonna take control of his life, why not publically come out?

"Can I kiss you?"

"Pardon?"

"I was gonna just kiss you, but I thought it would be quite molest-y if I didn't ask first." Harry gives him a smile. Draco looks quite frozen.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

Harry kisses him and decides to ask him out to dinner because fuck it, when have he and Draco ever had a normal relationship progression? Enemies to not speaking for three years to dating sounds about right for them.

So he takes him out and they have a wonderful time.

And he starts dating Draco Malfoy.

Eleven is worse

Harry gets nightmares.

Draco knows this, because he's the one who comforts Harry after them.

Harry tells him one night through tears that he had gone two years after the war without any nightmares, and then they just hit him out of the blue, and he has them almost every night.

"They just get worse and worse," he chokes out. "People dying and Voldemort laughing and my mom and you, and-"

"Me?" Draco asks, startled. He knows he should be comforting Harry, but he's so surprised by hearing himself mentioned in the list of people Harry has nightmares about that the hand rubbing circles on Harry's back stops.

"It's always the same one. The bathroom, sixth year, but Snape doesn't come, and the blood just keeps coming and I can't move and you die right in front of me." Harry looks haunted. "I can't make them stop."

"Maybe you don't need to make them stop," Draco suggests. Harry looks at him, startled. "Maybe you need to accept that they're not, and never will be, real. They're manifestations of your anxieties and your ingrained fears, and they are born from that. So don't work on your nightmares. Work on your fears."

Harry stares at him. "That's... actually helpful."

"I try," Draco jokes lightly, but the expression on Harry's face doesn't go away.

"You don't understand, everyone else has been telling me things like "they're just dreams" and "take potions" and shit. You're the first person to suggest something that could permanently stop them."

"Basic logic," Draco mutters. "If you had any, you could have figured it out eventually."

"But I didn't, and you did."

Harry hugs him suddenly, and Draco is startled. Harry isn't much for hugging, and neither is Draco, but he accepts the warm embrace anyway, smiling a bit.

"I think I'll be okay," Harry murmurs into Draco's chest.

"Better be," Draco laughs softly. "You're Harry fuckin' Potter, mate, can't have you walking around sad all the time, whatever will the people think?"

"Not the people!" Harry gasps dramatically, draping himself across Draco's lap. "How could I ever forget? The people!"

Draco laughs softly at his boyfriend's antics. Harry will be okay, he knows that.

They both will, forever.

Twelve is for a dastardly curse

Harry is cursed, he's sure of it.

Love is a curse and it winds itself throughout his bones, drawing every part of his skin and heart and eyes to Draco Malfoy, winding the name throughout his brain and wrapping it comfortably around his tongue whenever someone asks him if he's ever been in love.

He is cursed to love deeply and irrevocably and unforgettably, to live and breathe and die for Draco Malfoy, because Draco is the only person he could ever want this way, he's sure of it.

It feels as though fate has brought them together time and time again, trying over and over to push them together, and it had taken so long, but they had finally given in and lowered their walls and allowed fate to take hold.

The glimmering band around Harry's finger displays the curse to those around him.

They don't know it's a curse, they smile and ooh and aah and congratulate him on his engagement.

Harry knows it's a curse, because when you love someone this much, the idea of losing them is so heartbreakingly unbearable that Harry is sure he would die if Draco did, that they are soulmate connected by a string of fate, and if one falls the other falls with them.

And when your fiancé is an Unspeakable and constantly goes out on dangerous missions, the thought of them dying on the field, or really at all, shatters everything else you can think about, because bad thoughts are always more powerful than good ones and you can't hope your way out, not until they're home again and smiling at you and laughing and hugging you even though you both don't like hugs.

So Harry is cursed to love Draco Malfoy, cursed to live each day in fear that they won't see their wedding, their one-year, ten-year, fifty-year anniversaries.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Besides, Draco holds the curse of love as well.

They both will, forever.