The call comes in at 3.56 AM.
By 4.30 AM, Harry is standing at the airport, head burrowed into the collar of his winter coat, trying to keep the chill out of his bones. He isn't completely sure why he's there. But he figures that , considering everything Blaise has done for him, picking up Draco Malfoy at the airport is the least he can do.
He spots the familiar ice blond hair at a distance and watches the taller man as he carefully makes his way towards him, a travel case slung over his shoulders.
Malfoy is dressed in blues and greys , his face half covered in a muffler. Catching sight of Harry, he grins. Or at least, his eyes do. The rest of his face is completely obscured by the pale blue wool.
"Potter." His eyes automatically flit to the navy blue scarf around Harry's neck. Its one of the things they've always fought about. An expensive , one of a kind piece by Draco's favorite designer.
"Stop coveting what isn't yours, dumbass." Harry gives him a smug grin.
"One of these days Potter, I'm getting that scarf off you."
The years have added a certain maturity to his usually cocky tone. Harry finds himself smiling back.
"Malfoy. Why the hell are you using muggle transportation?" He asks, by way of greeting. Malfoy shrugs and the muffler slips off his face. He looks skeletal, the cheek bones sticking out of his face. Gone is the handsome blonde prince of Slytherin. Malfoy now looks like a caricature of misery.
Harry tries not to show his surprise, but Malfoy senses the look in his face.
"Not everything lasts, does it Potter?"
He grins and its terrifying.
Harry doesn't expect Draco to move to his family estate at once. So he carefully prepares the guest bedroom, laying out towels and blankets on the bed. He can hear the shower running and a few seconds later the door opens.
Harry watches Draco as he flits about the room, his sweatpants riding low on his thin waists.
"Paris, huh?" He asks casually, plopping down on the bed . Draco shrugs on a pale grey shirt and settles, cross legged, next to Harry.
" Yup. Paris, Seville and with a bit of Bulgaria thrown in there somewhere. How long has it been Potter?" he asks casually, reaching for a towel and tuning it through the damp strands of his hair. The atmosphere is strangely comfortable.
"Three. I saw you at Blaise's wedding." Harry reminds him, watching the tiny drops of water glistening on the other boy's hair. Malfoy has lost tremendous amounts of weight. He looks haggard and sick.
"Are you alright, Malfoy?" Harry blurts out. He then inwardly berates himself. It really is none of his business.
Malfoy , however is far from offended. He gives Harry another one of his grins . Harry finds it disturbing , to say the least.
"I'm fine , Potter. Did Weasley finally pluck up his courage and propose?"
When Harry leaves for work, Draco is still asleep. He expects the blonde to be gone by the time he gets back. But when he does return home, tired and exhausted, he finds Malfoy in the kitchen, flipping something in a frying pan.
"I made dinner." He calls out.
Harry is dumbstruck for a second, not entirely sure how to react.
"Uh..." Is all he manages.
"Stop dallying there, Potter. Come in and take a seat." Malfoy waves his arms vaguely, indicating the chair near the dining table. Harry frowns but settles down. He is greeted by the smell of well cooked potatoes and some rich gravy.
He waits till after dinner before asking Malfoy what his plans are.
"I was hoping I could stick around for a while. My parents don't know I'm back in England. I'd like to keep it that way. "
Harry doesn't ask why. Instead he ladles some gravy, watching Malfoy out of the corner of his eyes.
Harry has always had a weird sort of attraction for Malfoy.
He knows the blonde feels it too. Back in the day, they'd had reconnaissance missions together. Hours of being holed up in dingy hotel rooms and attics, trying to track down elusive wizards. Although they've never actively acted on any of them, Harry feels the inexplicable pull, whenever he goes within a few feet of the blonde.
At the time, it made sense. Malfoy was very good looking , virile and wickedly smart. Together, the pair of them had been a force to be reckoned with, solving cases that had been stagnant for decades and earning awards and appreciation wherever they went.
Harry remembers the late night parties, the raised alcohol levels and the lowered inhibitions. They hadn't actually had sex but damn, they'd come close. Draco transferred his vibrant energy and sense of humor to the bedroom and more often than not, Harry had found himself laughing and grinning into their kisses.
The memories make him tingle.
"How's he holding up?" Blaise asks Harry as the pair of them meet at the water dispenser. Harry blinks, momentarily unsure who he was talking about.
"Who?" He asks, watching the light blink from blue to red and then back again. He frowns, not sure what the color scheme means.
"Draco."
Harry looks up and shrugs.
"He says he needs some time to get his life together. I didn't push him to say more." He says casually. Blaise sighs.
"Okay, Harry. Just... just make sure he's fine. "
Harry stares after Blaise's back, an odd sense of foreboding in his mind.
Draco, Harry learns, has resigned from his job as an auror. To say that it shocks Harry is a bit of an understatement.
"Resigned? What the fuck dude, are you crazy? He splutters when Draco informs him of the fact the next night at dinner. Draco doesn't reply at once , opting to stare unnervingly at Harry for a few moments.
"Are you still single, Potter?"
The question hits him broadside and for a few moments Harry forgets what he's been thinking about. He blinks.
"I.. Yes.. I mean, of course. I'm single."
Harry doesn't see whats coming until he's knocked of the chair and on the floor, his lips crushed against Draco's. He is too shocked to actively respond, his eyes wide and stunned. Draco pulls away after a moment and grins again. By then, Harry's fingers are clutching the front of Draco's shirt, his toes curling into the thick brown carpet underfoot.
"I've been wanting to do that from the time I landed. " Draco says, casually. Harry keeps staring at him , not sure what just happened. The cogs in his mind, rusty from disuse, are turning very slowly. Too slow for him to get his bearings.
He gets up and moves to his bedroom.
"What about your wife?" Harry finally wills himself to ask.
Its a Sunday morning and the pair of them are out for breakfast at one of the small cafe's near Harry's apartment. Its almost ten in the morning but there is no sun in sight . The waitress places a mug of steaming coffee in front of them. Malfoy watches the steam as it rises up and then merges with the cold air , temporary warmth swallowed by the endless cold.
"She left." Draco doesn't even spare him a glance, his fingers wrapped around the mug . The grip looks fairly desperate. Like he's scared that the cup was going to dematerialize in front of him.
Harry takes a sip of his coffee. He watches Draco silently, his mind whirring in circles. There was something there, something that was dancing tantalizingly out of reach. He can feel it, like gossamer threads , dancing in front of him. Too substantial for him to ignore, too fragile to reach out and grasp.
Draco finishes his coffee and pays.
When they leave back to the apartment, his cold, thin fingers slip into Harry's. His hold is very light , a complete contrast to how he was clutching the coffee mug. Harry wants to pull away, not liking the conflicting emotions surging through him at the moment.
He finds himself tightening his grasp instead.
Harry comes back to the apartment on Monday evening and Draco is nowhere to be found. He isn't particularly worried. The blonde probably has better things to do than loll around his couch all day.
Harry loosens his tie, tosses his briefcase on the table and unbuttons his shirt. He is sliding the thick leather belt out of the loops of his slacks, when the sound reaches his ears.
It is a pathetic cacophony of retching, chocking and coughing. He is out of the hall in an instant , pounding on the guest bathroom.
"Draco! Draco.. what the fuck, are you alright?"
His only response is a renowned bout of coughing. Harry acts purely on instinct and the next second , the door is wide open, knocked right off its hinges from the impact of his shoulders.
Draco is on the white tiles floor , retching into the toilet bowl. He looks pale as death and Harry sinks to his knees.
"Oh, Shit! What.. What happened? Are you alright?" Its a stupid question. The boy on the floor is clearly not alright.
And then he sees it.
Splashes of red against the pristine white tiles.
Even magic, Harry learns, cannot cure Leukemia.
The doctors try to drown him with reassurances and statistics and he wishes they would just put a sock in it. Draco's tired and asleep on the bed and Harry wants nothing more than to shut out the world and hold his hands.
As it turns out, there's not much anyone can do. Harry goes back to his apartment , visits him in the hospital everyday. He has a feeling of being suspended in some sort of an alternate universe, something completely removed from his actual existence. Time seems to slow down and drag sometimes. At other times, it grounds to a halt.
The painkillers and sedation keep Draco unconscious most of the time. But the moment Harry enters the hospital room, its like a switch being turned on. The blonde becomes lucid, icy grey eyes clear and wide, eager to know whats happening in the real world.
Which is ironical, because a world without Draco doesn't seem real to Harry.
"Is this why she left?" Harry wants to know.
Draco is propped up on the pillows. He has been moved to one of the permanent wards and he has a view of the well kept Hospital gardens from his vantage point. The early summer wind is pleasant , but he can't feel it.
"Its hard to be in a relationship that you know is ending." Draco says sagely, fingers fumbling with the ends of his blanket.
Its even harder to be in a relationship that never started, Harry thinks.
On Draco's birthday, half the ministry is in his room. Its a riot.
Hermione bakes him a cake, chocolate chip with blue icing. It looks hideous and tastes like clay but Draco gobbles it all down. Blaise and Ginny buy him a soccer ball, demanding that he get better and teach their one year old son to play like him. Draco promises, clutching the ball to his chest like a kid.
There are birthday wishes and gentle birthday bumps. There are gifts and there are promises and Harry leans against the door-frame, wondering if God was taking Draco away because he was just so good.
But he isn't. He's rude, obnoxious and arrogant. He eats with his mouth open, leaves his shirts all over the couch and doesn't clean the dishes. Ever.
Are you listening, God? The guy's a jerk . You really don't want him up there.
When everyone's gone and the last of the confetti is swept into the bin, harry settled on the chair next to Draco.
"Hey." He whispers. The room is completely dark, lit only by the faint moonlight streaming in through the large bay windows. Draco has his face turned to the window, his shoulders taut against the soft fabric of the hospital gown.
The blonde turns slowly and he looks ethereal in the white light. Harry sees his eyes shift , as though he was having a hard time adjusting to his surroundings. It always is that way after a nap. Harry has noticed that it takes Draco a few hours to get his act together, to be comfortable in his own skin, after waking up. It was was if his body was aware that he didn't completely belong on earth .
"This might be my last birthday."
His voice is small and crushed, like a little boy complaining that it was the last candy in the bag.
Harry reaches out, gently pushing him on the bed. Draco's finger tighten on his wrist , yanking him closer. Harry crawls in next to him.
"Will you forget me?" Draco rasps, arms wrapped tight around Harry's neck, his breath painting goosebumps on the sensitive skin near his ears. Harry tries to fight the tears but they slip out and he wants to kick himself because he just doesn't want to cry in front of Draco and fuck. Just fuck.
"Kiss me." Its all he can manage. Draco obliges and they breath each other, arms and legs tangled in the white sheets . Harry holds him close, fingers tracing patterns on the cold , smooth skin. He can trace the ribs running down his sides and he has never felt so helpless in his entire life.
"I love you."
Draco gives him a feeble squeeze in return.
Draco hasn't woken up in three days and Harry hasn't left his bed in all that time. He watches the barely there breathing and his nails are digging into the flesh of his palms. He doesn't know what to do, what to say or what to think. He tells himself, its just a nap. A slightly long nap but just a nap nonetheless. Any moment now, Draco was going to wake up.
And then, suddenly without warning there's a cough.
"Harry." the voice is raw and pained. The look on Draco's face is wild and calm. His eyes are wide , glassy and there's just so much emotion in them that Harry can't imagine them empty. He moves closer to the boy on the bed, his fingers pushing a familiar blue fabric into Draco's hands.
"You can have the damn scarf! Don't leave me." Harry whispers. To his tortured mind , it seems a fair trade.
Draco laughs. A short mirthless laugh that ends in a cough. He clutches the scarf and buries his face in it. He seems to drift off for a second and Harry panics. His hands are reaching for the boy when Draco's eyes open again.
"Are you here, Potter?" He is staring at the ceiling. One hand clutches the scarf and the other is reaching out to him. Harry takes the fingers in his. Fragile gossamer threads.
"I'm here, Draco." He tries to keep the nausea down. He wants to run away, so badly. He can't do this. He just can't!
"Will you stay?" Draco asks, his body sagging with the effort it was taking him to form syllables.
"Yes.. Yes, always. I'll stay... What about you?" He doesn't know when the tears started.
Draco laughs again.
"I think, I'll take off... Thanks for letting me crash here for a while Harry."
His eyes flutter shut.
Harry feels the fingers slip out of his.
Not everything lasts, after all.
A/n :- Reviews? Please ?