Throughout his whole life, Harry Potter had had an empty feeling somewhere near his stomach. The years at the Dursley's were marked by that feeling, that empty feeling. It wasn't until years later he would discover that the biggest thing he was missing in his life, was the feeling of being loved.
The feeling grew certainly smaller at Hogwarts, and it was reduced along the years, but still, it was always there, not slow to scream to him that he was worthless and unlovable, whenever time was given.
Those moments increased during his sixth year. Ron and Hermione had finally given in to their feelings for each other, which left Harry as the happy for you, don't bother me when you're snogging friend. On the surface, that was. His inside, his heart, was screaming for attention. He knew his friends loved him, and he loved them, but they didn't want to spend as much time with him as before, and that left him alone. He had started to like the lessons better than the spare time. During the lessons, Ron and Hermione were unable to snog since the teachers were watching them, and that left them to speak with Harry. He hated being second choice, but it was all he had.
He hated rainy days and he hated sunny days. Rainy days meant cuddling in the common room, and sunny days meant sweet walks on the school ground. Without Harry. And as the weeks went by, Harry realized there were two different kinds of love. The love between friends, which he felt he was losing, and the love between two persons, which was the love that made you feel complete. Before, the first kind of love had covered up for both with more than enough care from Ron and Hermione, but when they fell in love with each other, they left Harry to discover his loneliness in double ways.
He defeated Voldemort two days after Christmas in his seventh year, when the snow was laying thick on the ground. He found himself wishing it was fall, because then the fall rain could have washed away the blood from the battlefield. As it was now, the blood stained the snow and made it almost more red than white, and it reminded Harry of the great losses of people and persons he cared about and loved. That made him feel even more empty inside. Since the war, Harry detested the winter.
He had killed someone. He had killed someone, and he was the cause of hundreds of people's deaths. He had nightmares about the war almost every night, and just as often he would wake up with a scream, sheets soaked with cold sweat. He never told Ron and Hermione, and he had made it a habit to cast a silencing spell around his bed before he fell asleep at night. He didn't want to bother them even more, as they already had to deal with the loss of the people they loved as much as he did. And besides, he didn't think they would understand.
He graduated with A or more in all of his NEWTs, and he didn't have a single clue what to do with his life.
Three years later, in the end of July, he was sitting at his favourite café in the centre of London, drinking coffee and watching people pass by on the street without actually seeing them. That was probably why he didn't see a special blond guy heading into the café, ordering the same thing as Harry, black coffee. The blond at first just scanned the place quickly, deciding that the dark haired man by the window seemed nice, and headed towards him. It wasn't until he had asked if the seat just opposite was available, and the man looked up, that he discovered it was Harry Potter.
Draco Malfoy was the gift God had sent Harry to thank him for saving the world. Draco Malfoy was the first person after Ron and Hermione who was interested in him as a person, and not the Boy Who Lived. Draco Malfoy had converted to the good side some time around Christmas in their sixth year, but he and Harry never became more than not-enemies-anymore. Yet here they were, three years after graduation, talking as Harry never had imagined they would. Draco was Harry's first connection to the wizard world for two years. He still spoke to Ron and Hermione, but they didn't really count. The three of them weren't as close as they once had been. They had dinner together at least once a week, but no matter how much they tried, Harry would never let them beneath the surface, never let them see the lost, broken and lonely Harry behind the I'm a muggle advertising worker and happy with my life façade.
After only a few months, Harry let Draco beneath that surface. When the first snow touched the ground, Draco had immediately noticed something wasn't right with Harry, and asked him what was wrong. Harry had spilled his soul, poured his heart out, and tears of misery became tears of relief when Draco didn't walk out on him, as expected, but took Harry in his arms and held him until the sobs subsided, whispering words of comfort in his ear. Then they kissed, and Harry was in heaven.
They moved in together in a new-built flat four days later. Harry had never been so open to someone, never felt so happy, so complete, as he did with Draco. Draco had made his self-confidence grow, and his friendship with Ron and Hermione had been rebuilt. The empty space in his stomach had almost disappeared, but it was still there. It was stronger in the winter, and along with the first snow always came the anxiety. But now, when Draco was there to comfort him with hugs and kisses and embraces, it wasn't as bad as before. Draco was frequently telling him that it wasn't Harry's fault at all that all those people had died, it was all Voldemort's handwork. If Harry hadn't been there to almost kill him the first time, and then really finish him the second, the number of victims would have been so much higher.
~*~
Harry closed the door to the cab with a sigh and rubbed his hand over his face. He muttered his destination to the driver, and threw his head back against the headrest as his lips curved in a satisfied smile. It had been a hell of a week. He had been away in Paris for a job, and had been supposed to be home last Saturday. Instead, he had had to call Draco to tell him he was going to have to stay for another week. Fortunately, they had only needed four days, so he had caught an earlier plane home without telling Draco, wanting to surprise him. And what a surprise. While he stayed in Paris, he had found out that some wizard scientist had invented a potion, which made male pregnancy possible. He and Draco had talked about kids, and Harry just couldn't wait to tell his boyfriend the news. He told the driver to pull up beside a flower shop, and ran in to buy a bouquet of red roses. The driver whistled approvingly when he got back.
"Celebrating?" he asked. Harry smiled.
"Yeah. Five years since we got together."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."
Harry was very cheered up with coming home earlier and having great news to deliver. He hummed on the song that had been played on the radio when he got out from the cab, and took the stair two steps at a time. He grabbed the keys in his pocket and unlocked the door.
"Dra-co", he cooed into the flat when he had closed the door, and was just too busy to listen for the reply that would expose Draco's location to notice the pair of high-heeled shoes that was neither Hermione's or Pansy's, nor the belonging coat on one of the hooks.
"Draco?" he called once again, placing the roses on the hall bureau and advancing in to the kitchen, just to find it empty. The he heard a noise. He located it to the bedroom, and smiled to himself. His boyfriend just couldn't wait, could he? He placed a hand on the handle, and was just about to open, when he heard someone else mumbling. Then Draco's voice was heard again.
"It's okay, Harry won't be home until Saturday." Harry felt his body going cold, and pulled the door open, only to find Draco fucking his secretary. Harry's stomach turned, and he could feel his lunch coming up. Draco looking up over the woman's shoulder, his face saying everything, was just enough. Harry turned on his heel and rushed to the bathroom, just in time to have his airplane food sent down the toilet. He dry heaved a couple of times, and then the reached up to close and lock the bathroom door. He flushed the toilet and buried his face in his hands. He'd known this would happen, hadn't he? That he was unlovable, only second best.
He heard some mumbling from the other side of the door, and got up to wash his face. He heard the front door close, and the next second Draco was knocking at the bathroom door.
"Harry? Are you alright?" Harry opened the door, and judging by the look on Draco's face, he himself looked scaringly calm. "How are you?" Draco asked.
"Me? Oh, I'm fine. I've only bought roses to celebrate an anniversary, and I came home three days early to tell my boyfriend that we can get kids, just to find him fucking his secretary in our bed, so I couldn't feel better, right?" From where he stood in the bathroom doorway, Harry had a perfect view of the bedroom window. "Oh, I was wrong. It can be better. It's snowing", he added softly, eyes fixed on the crystals that attached themselves to the window glass. Draco followed his gaze and confirmed that it did, indeed, snow.
"Harry, I can explain. That… the thing that you saw, it isn't what you think."
"It's not?"
"No. It's… it's kinda complicated, but…"
"Well then, don't even bother trying."
Harry pushed Draco away and went out in the hallway. He saw the roses, and was hit by another urge to throw up.
"I'm sure they'll look good with Ron and Hermione's sofa", he said, more talking to himself than to Draco. He leaned down and scribbled something on a note that Draco could see (Five years today. He's fucking his secretary. Hugs & kisses /H), attached it to the bouquet, and with a tip of his wand replacing a bunch of tulips in the Weasley living room with them. Then he headed to the bedroom.
He was leaning casually against the doorway, flicking with his wand to get all his belongings shrunk and put in a box, when Draco came in.
"Harry, you don't…"
"Draco, just don't", Harry interrupted him with a voice that hid all of his emotions. He hadn't done that to Draco since the day he poured his heart out, and it made Draco feel insecure, because he didn't know how to handle the fragile piece of human in front of him.
"Harry, I…" Harry closed the box and brought it out to the hallway, where ha placed it on the still packed bag he had brought with him the last one and a half week.
"I'll have Hermione hand you the divorce papers. All you'll have to do is sign them. If there are things of mine you do not wish to keep, please give them to her."
"But I…"
"I love you Draco, with every fibre in my body. You've made me feel like no one else has, in two ways. You taught me how to love, and that I'm not meant to be loved, thank you." There was still no emotion in his voice. He bent down to tie his shoes. "Goodbye", he said silently, putting on his jacket again. He grabbed his belongings, but just before he opened the door, he grabbed the keys in his pocket. He eyed the bunch carefully, and then released the keys that belonged to his and Draco's life together and put them where the roses had been a couple of minutes ago. The he left the flat. Draco just stood there, speechless.
It was dark when Harry got outside, and the only thing lightening up the ground, was the snow that was quickly covering and burying the city. Harry had never felt so empty in his whole life, so incomplete. As the snowflakes hit him and got stuck in his hair and on his clothes, he guessed that some people just weren't meant to be.
The End.