A/N: Due to some shit in my life (first round of IUI did not work out...), I'm feeling a bit depressed. But I've turned that into something beautiful. So here's a little Drarry drabble filled with some angst. The first part is Harry's POV and the second will be Draco's. Please let me know what you think; I love the easy smiles these days!
The cat was hissing from atop the fridge. Their apartment was in such shit shape that even the damn cat couldn't stand it.
"I know," Harry muttered and leant down to right the umbrella stand. Like that would somehow fix the trashed state of their home. He set it back carefully by the door, gathering the three umbrellas with strange care. The black one was Draco's. The deep purple was his. And the ridiculous one decked out in a pepperoni pizza pattern was a bitter reminder of a silly joke.
Moral of the story: Don't get caught out in spring on a bank holiday without proper weather protection.
"There is no way in Salazar's name that I am carrying that thing
Harry grinned, easily amused at the idea of a large, greasy pizza hanging over Draco Malfoy's surly expression. "Okay, well it's this," he gestured to the only umbrella at the bodega, "or…." He nodded out towards the street where a similarly smart-dressed man was rushing past traffic. His suit was soaked and heavy and his hair plastered his forehead in the most unattractive way. "I can't in good conscience let you walk around like that, Malfoy. You'll tarnish my good image…."
The look Draco gave in response – a cross between a fed-up snarl and hidden amusement – earned him a enthusiastic blowjob later in the night.
It had been their first bought into intimacy. The first step into the reckless thing they'd been doing for the last two years.
"This is all your dad's fault," Harry grumbled towards the cat and kicked out at the shards of a broken vase. "Your dad is an idiot."
Draco Malfoy was an idiot. And Harry had almost believed he had grown out of it. He had been so close to believing that the past was behind them.
And then the Patrol showed up at their door. The sun had just begun to rise, while they had not. One of them, Harry forgot which, had declared it to be a day of rest. A day where neither of them left the bed but for food and to relieve themselves. It had likely been Draco's suggestion. He had to have known they were coming.
The look in his eyes when that knock came at the front door….
In that look, every single shred of his happiness and dreams left the endless pools of silver.
Harry would never be able to look into those eyes the same way again. He wasn't certain he could ever look into those eyes again. Everything he knew about Draco Malfoy had turned out to be a lie.
He felt betrayed.
"Well, come on down," Harry chided the cat, a mangy Maine coon rightfully dubbed 'The King' (never just King, as he had rightfully earned his title as the one and only). "You'll just have to deal with the mess a bit longer. I have no motivation to clean it up. No just yet."
The King hissed once more before turning away and showing Harry his backside. He sighed, for about the thousandth time wishing they had adopted a dog, instead. In Draco's dramatic absence, he desperately wished for something to snuggle up with. "Suit yourself," he grumbled towards the rear end, "but I'm not feeding you until you come down."
He felt instantly guilty having said as much and wasted no time in tearing open a can of food. Very gingerly, he sat it atop the fridge and walked away. In his own way, The King was likely grieving, as well. He and Draco had forged a surprisingly strong bond.
"You should just get used to the idea of him being gone." Harry wasn't certain if he was still talking to the cat or to himself. It was a fact he had been trying to come to terms with since the Patrol officers tore into his home. The little bubble they had created for themselves had been desecrated. They were fools to have thought it was safe. The world had never been that kind to either of them.
The living room looked like a war zone. But their bedroom definitely had it worse. The mattress was completely askew and most of the clothing they owned was now on the floor. Harry stepped on a tossed book in the doorway and winced when he heard the spine crack. He lifted his foot to peek at the title before slamming it down again with more force. He couldn't exhibit his anger on Draco so he would have to settle for taking it out on his things for now. Starting with the flowery book of poetry he cherished more than any human he'd ever known. Harry included.
Another inside joke…. Harry hadn't been so aware of these little things before. But now in Draco's absence, it was all he could see. The little things that made them fall in love. The little things that now felt like a betrayal. Just more layers on the lies he had believed.
Harry desperately wanted to hate Draco Malfoy and his gorgeous face and all of those secret meaningful looks they had. He wanted to hate the two years they'd had together. But the rage just wouldn't come. He'd had enough time by now to try. Twenty-two hours spent in the DMLE waiting room, harassing anyone important he could find for an update. And who knows how long it would be before he was able to see his gorgeous, dumb face again. The trial wasn't for a couple weeks. And he certainly didn't deserve visitors in the meantime.
He had to keep reminding himself of that. All he wanted was to go see him, even if it were behind bars, if only just to demand an explanation.
"It's all a misunderstanding, Harry. I promise," Draco rushed to say, the image of him forever spoiled by the officers forcing him into submission with a binding charm. "You believe me, don't you?"
He didn't. That is to say, he didn't anymore. He had believed Draco at first. But then they found the broach – a cursed object so powerful it had to be kept in a specific charmed box and could only be handled with dragon-hide gloves. It was hidden inside the air vent of all places. Draco hadn't even tried that hard.
Flopping down on the skewed mattress, half of his body tilting towards the floor, Harry slammed his eyes shut. He tried for just a moment to pretend that nothing was wrong. That he was just about to wake up from a weird dream and they could both laugh it off. Together. That Draco was slumbering by his side and The King was curled at their feet.
But the world was too tilted for pretend. And Draco Malfoy was apparently still a terrible person.
Perhaps the last two years had just been pretend. Perhaps Draco had just been pretending the while time. From the first moonlit kiss to the last orgasms of their lazy morning sex. He had pretended he could be soft and innocent and stay on a straight path. All while sneaking behind Harry's back. Bringing cursed objects into the delicate balance of their life. Storing forbidden texts surreptitiously on their bookshelf, right between Walt Whitman and a tattered copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Threatening whistleblowers with dark magic while Harry was pulling a long shift at St. Mungo's.
The Malfoy name was so sullied that Draco couldn't find a job. Harry paid for everything, but he didn't mind it. He had his parents' vault still and tapped into it when necessary. But they survived okay on his salary. He taught self-defense classes through the hospital. He loved it.
He loved everything about the life they had built together.
Draco must not have loved it. There must have been something missing. Or he must have resented Harry for what he couldn't have himself. Why else would he ruin everything they had by turning back to dark magic?
Really, Harry could simply have all the answers he wanted if he were to just go talk to Draco. Get his side of the story. Allow him to explain, if he did indeed have an explanation.
But he couldn't. He was scared of what he would hear if he asked. His mind could only conjure the worst. The only possible outcome he could see to this was an ending.
And he didn't want this to end.
"I honestly thought this was a one-off…."
Harry frowned, shamefully putting back the dinnerware. He had made dinner. It was a bit burnt and probably over-salted…but he had made it and it still felt special. Except apparently he had mis-read things. That rainy day of strange adventure hadn't been a date. And the letter he had sent asking for a second one had obviously been a mistake. "I, uh…."
Draco was silent for an agonizingly long moment. His silver eyes were cold and Harry was sure he was ready to turn on his heel and leave. Until he shrugged, brushing off his previous statement, and leaned against the counter next to Harry.
"That smells dreadful. We should order take-away."
Their relationship had been full of those near-endings. It was inevitable that one of them would eventually stick.
The longer he laid there, the deeper his fear became. If he wasn't careful here, he could lose everything they had fought for. Well…fought for sounded a bit extreme. His friends and the Weasleys – who he considered more as family – had taken to their relationship better than expected. Even the uptight Purebloods in Draco's life didn't put up too much of a fuss. Harry had vouched for many of them after the war. He had a feeling that swayed things. But just telling all of them had felt like a battle in itself. The anticipation was far worse than the actual outcome.
It seemed the universe had been storing the pain for later. They had been given the illusion of a happy life. A short-lived illusion and now they had to deal with reality.
And the reality was – Draco Malfoy was still very much a git. But Harry was committed now and he supposed he should at least try to hear the git out. Even if it was just because he might have the opportunity to punch him if things turned out to be as much of a mess as they seemed to be.
In a very childish display, Harry slunk down the skewed part of the mattress and fell into a heap on the floor. He curled his knees to his chest and let loose a loud groan. The King echoed back a pathetic mewl from his perch. For some reason, that sealed it for him. He was going to be an adult and go back to the Ministry. Not for Draco, but for the damn cat.
Definitely not for purely selfish reasons.
"Alright, alright…I'm gonna try and get your dad home again," Harry grumbled towards the kitchen after he'd pulled himself up off the floor. He groaned again at the mess of their apartment before stalking to the door. "But you better not cry if I can't. You might be stuck with me and I need you to try and live with that."
Behind him, The King mewled again like he was consenting. Harry tried to stop himself from grinning as he left and made his way to the disapparation point.
