You're Beautiful
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A year. A whole fucking year had passed since Draco walked out of Harry's life. Harry rarely went out anymore, afraid that when he did, he would see Draco carrying on with his life. That was something he simply could not bear.
He knew that Draco must have moved on to someone who he thought appreciated him for who he really is and not what they made him. As much as he didn't want to be, he was happy for that. He learned long ago that he was only happy when Draco was happy.
Harry had been doing a lot of thinking, more thinking than he had done in his entire life, likely. He understood why Draco left, even though he firmly believed that they could work through their problems together.
The weeks that followed Draco's departure Harry hardly moved from his spot on his end of the bed, only rising when his aching bladder became too much to bear. He thought that if he stayed where he was, refusing to allow his life to move forward, Draco would come back and everything would just simply return to normal.
After a few months of hardly any food and even less sleep, Harry finally came to terms with the fact that he would probably never see him again. The pain that hit him in that moment was more severe than the harshest Crucio.
He woke up one morning with a note in his post that stated Draco would be by to collect the rest of his things that afternoon.
Harry locked himself in the bathroom and tried to cry as silently as possible as he heard Draco rustle around outside the bedroom.
"Harry?" His voice called, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to answer him.
The flat fell silent again and Harry was alone, finally allowing sobs to wrack his body.
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How was work today, love?" Draco questioned over the rim of his tea mug. "Anything interesting happen in the fast-paced world of Ministry politics?"
"Nothing of great interest, no," Harry replied with a yawn, dropping a kiss on Draco's head before grabbing a pint of butterbeer from the refrigerator. "Anything happen here?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Death Eater meetings, jousting tournaments, I made cookies."
"Harry snorted with laughter. "You had me believing you up to the cookie bit. You don't bake."
Draco drained the rest of his tea. "No, but I can joust very well."
Harry perched on the table, crossing his legs. "I'm sure you can." Harry put down his bottle and slid into Draco's lap. "I missed you while I was away."
Draco arched a brow and smirked. "Of course you did. It's probably safe to say that I missed you, at least a little. I've nothing to do when you go to work and leave me alone here. Now, you're cutting off the circulation to my legs. Hop up, then."
"You don't need your legs," Harry whispered against Draco's neck, nibbling is earlobe gently.
"You're cutting off circulation to other vital organs," Draco said, slipping a hand up Harry's shirt. "Like, for example, my cock."
"Maybe it needs attention," Harry chuckled before pressing a kiss to Draco's waiting lips. "I'm sure I could coax come feeling into it."
"Maybe," Draco agreed with a chuckle. "You might have to test that theory."
Harry smirked as he dragged Draco's zipper down and slipped a hand into his trousers. "Don't mind if I do."
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He wasn't exactly sure how, but Hermione had persuaded him to join her for lunch. He showered and dressed, finding his trousers a little looser around the waist than he remembered. He briefly thought of raiding Draco's closet; that is until he remembered that it was empty. Instead he cinched in the excess fabric with a belt and vowed to buy new trousers.
Hermione met him at the door with a warm smile and an 'it's good to see you in real clothes again, even if you are as thin as an emaciated super model'.
Harry only smiled and let her do the talking as they made their way to the café that Hermione swore repeatedly was 'the best in all of London'. And, she added, there was a very trendy store next door where he could pick up some clothes to wear until he got, as she put it, 'healthy again'.
Harry let her order for him for the simple fact that he knew he wasn't going to eat whatever was placed in front of him.
A shimmer of blonde hair passed the clear bay window of he café and Harry's eyes instantly focused on it, only to feel his stomach sink in unwilling disappointment when he realized it wasn't Draco.
He felt Hermione's hand close around his own and she said "I'm sure he's moved on Harry. You need to as well."
"I don't want to," he said, his throat tight. He stood, his vision blurring as he made his way to the loo, where he gripped the rim of the toilet so tight his knuckles paled while he dry retched.
"Come on Harry, we'll go," he heard Hermione's voice call from just outside his cubicle.
"This is a boy's lavatory," Harry called, his forehead pressed against the cubicle wall. "You're not meant to be in here."
He heard Hermione sigh, and she said, "This was a bad idea, I'm sorry. Do you want to go back to your flat?"
"No, no," Harry said as he stood, pushing open the cubicle door and stepping out with a weak smile on his face. "We can go next door. I have a feeling I won't be able to fit back in my clothes for quite a while."
Hermione cupped his cheek in her hand and said, "I'm just glad you've left your flat. I can't believe it's been a year. We've missed you."
Harry smiled again, a little brighter, and said, "I've missed you too."
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"Hurry up Harry," Draco breathed, his fingers gripping the moist, plaint skin of Harry's back.
EDITED- Full version on my LiveJournal
With a content groan Draco smoothed a hand over Harry's stomach before his heavy body fell next to him.
With a low noise in the back of his throat Draco wrapped himself around Harry. "I love you."
"Love you too," Harry yawned, pressing a kiss over Draco's soft eyelid.
Draco was already asleep.
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Harry wasn't quite sure why he was here. True, it had been a good idea in theory, and Hermione had assured him that he looked alright before he left the flat, but still…it felt weird to be sitting here again, alone at the bar of a nightclub after five years.
Gently rubbing his thumb up the side of his sweating glass of gin and tonic, his head pounding due to the flashing strobe lights, he was suddenly hit with the urge to go home.
Unfortunately, he had promised Hermione he would stay at least an hour, and he had only been there for ten minutes.
As a new song started the club seemed to darken, the heavy pulsing of the music making Harry's legs tingle.
He turned, casting his eyes out to the dance floor and watching the writhing of bodies. His eyes landed on a slender, shadowed body wrapped around a large, muscled man on the outskirts of the scantily-lit floor. He watched the slender man's hips flow rhythmically like water, watched as a large, bronze-skinned hand slide around his waist, watched as his blonde head fell against his shoulder.
Wait…
Harry's eyes met steely grey and his heart clenched.
He turned around quickly, his breaths coming fast and irregular as he took a deep drink from his glass.
He didn't dare turn back around, afraid that Draco would see him again, maybe even come over and talk to him. He wasn't sure if he could handle that.
It wasn't until he watched his lover…ex-lover…slide into the seat next to him that he allowed himself to look again.
Draco, he decided, looked good. He wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't seen him in a long while or he had thrived away from Harry, but he seemed to be glowing. "Hey Harry," Draco said softly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
Harry tried to smile but found it very hard. "H…hi."
"Where have you been?" Draco said softly. "When I came to the flat no one was there and Hermione didn't seem to know where you were for a while either. Are you alright, you look a bit peaky."
"It's been a bloody year, why the sudden interest in my well-being?" Harry said in an angrier tone than he had intended.
Draco looked hurt, but simply said, "I was worried, Harry."
"Well I'm fine," Harry snapped before downing the rest of his drink. "Peachy even. Thanks for your…"
And the man Draco had been dancing with was behind him, hooking an arm across his chest and smiling at Harry in a way he had no right to. "You abandoned me pet," the man said in a fading Greek accent before casting his eyes back to Harry. "Who's managed to steal you from me?"
"Oh Nik, this is Harry. He…"
"I went to school with Draco," Harry supplied, feeling more like the third wheel in this instance than he ever did with Ron and Hermione.
"Draco never talks of his schooling," Nik said with a laugh, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "And he never talked of you. Were you friends?"
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. He glanced at his watch. Forty minutes. Fuck it, he wasn't going to stay anymore. "I've…I've got to go," he said, climbing off his barstool and straightening his shirt, which felt too tight all of a sudden.
"Harry…wait, we need to talk," Draco said, catching his arm. Harry was quick to rip it away.
"No, I don't think so," Harry said, unaware of the tears escaping his eyes until he felt the pads of Draco's fingers wiping them away. "I can't…don't…" He said, stepping away from Draco, looking anywhere but his eyes.
Draco slowly lowered his hand. "I'm sorry."
Harry wanted to say 'So am I', but his throat wouldn't work. Instead he just shook his head and backed out of the club, watching Draco sink back down on his barstool and lay his head on Nik's chest.
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"Something's missing, I think," Harry said, stepping up behind Draco and wrapping his arms around his waist. "Besides the obvious writhing, starkers you, of course."
Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek before returning his eyes to the bed. "I don't know, I quite like it like this. Too many pillows can really hinder the amount of actual sexual activity. I mean…you have to take the time to take the pillows off the bed. This way, we just have to pull back the duvet."
"Convenience is key," Harry said with a laugh. "And however much I would love to test your theory, I am dreadfully tired."
"Long day at work?" Draco asked, working open the buttons on Harry's slightly wrinkled white shirt.
"You've got no idea," Harry said with a yawn. "I've been all over the bleeding world today using my face to convince the multitudes of the fact that the Ministry is actually trying to improve the lives of the Wizarding public."
"Sounds absolutely tiresome," Draco agreed with a nod. "I do hope you can recover."
"You're funny," Harry said as he watched him undo his trousers and pull them down around his ankles, where Harry proceeded to step out of them. "What, are you going to put me in my pyjamas now?"
"Wasn't planning on it, no," Draco said with a small smirk. "I was going to give you a fantastic blow job and tuck you in for a good night's sleep. Is that alright with you?
"I guess so," Harry said before capturing Draco's lips in a searing and all-encompassing kiss.
Draco pulled back, a smug look on his face. "Now lay down, I'm not doing this on my knees, who do you think I am?"
And with a shove in the middle of his chest, Harry fell back onto the freshly-made bed.
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He watched Ron walk over to Ginny, who was smiling so widely that it physically hurt to look at her. He watched her hug her brother tightly, the front of her overly-fluffy wedding dress flattening between them.
He could hear her laughing as she looked over to her new husband, Neville; watched as Ron pulled him into a one-armed hug.
His heart ached when he thought that it could have been him there with Ginny instead of Neville. He could be the one with the shy, content smile plastered to his face. But he remembered that he didn't want to be with Ginny, he wanted to be with Draco.
He knew that Draco was here, he had heard his voice above all others. It was closely followed by the rich laughter of who he assumed was Nik. He couldn't find it in himself to look.
Weddings, he decided, were out from now on. They were entirely too depressing.
"Having fun?" He heard Hermione ask him from across the table. "You spaced out there for a minute. Are you really that bored?"
"No," Harry said, grinning. "I'm fine." He found himself saying that more and more these days. Every time he heard himself say it he thought of how much easier it was staying alone in his flat. "I was just thinking about how beautiful Ginny looks."
Hermione smiled and said nothing, just lowered her head to Harry's still full plate. "You really need to start eating again."
"I eat," Harry said with a dismissive wave. "I'm just not hungry right now."
"Then why do you look like a bloody skeleton? You had to buy a new suit didn't you? Even after we bought you a suit when I took you to lunch. No offense, but you don't look very well. Are you sick?"
"No Hermione, I'm not sick," Harry said, laying his head down on his arms. "I'm just tired. I only eat when I'm hungry, and I'm not hungry very often. Please stop worrying."
"Fine," Hermione said with a sigh before finding Ron dancing with Ginny on the dance floor. She stood, and held a hand out for Harry. "Now dance with me."
"I don't…" Harry began, but Hermione gave him a look that offered no room for excuses. "Fine."
He allowed her to lead him out into the middle as the band started up a slow song. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took her hand into his, leading them in a box step. "You really are a good dancer, Harry," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm glad someone thinks so," Harry said with a chuckle. "Draco always used to say that I had as much grace as a stunned hippogriff." There, Harry had said it. He said his name and it wasn't the end of the world. It felt…strangely liberating.
His eyes slid over everyone to land, as they always did, on Draco. He was dancing with Nik, his long, slender arms wrapped around the taller man's neck. They seemed to be talking, because he heard Draco laugh and press their foreheads together.
He heard Nik's voice say something and watched Draco's face light up and four words that he had heard Draco say over and over, but he had never heard him say them to someone else.
"I love you too."
He wouldn't go so far as to say it didn't hurt, but it was a dull, throbbing pain that was nothing compared to what he felt the exact moment he realized that Draco no longer loved him.
"You've moved on, haven't you?" Hermione said with a beaming smile.
Harry sighed, a weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders. "Yeah, I suppose I have."
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"Do you think we should move, love?" Harry said, dropping his head in Draco's lap with a sigh. "I've been thinking about it, moving closer to downtown in London. The flats are nicer down there."
"How do you know?" Draco said with a snort. "They may be nicer, but they are also smaller and more expensive. I like what we've got here, it fits us."
"I thought you would have jumped at the idea of being situated downtown, there is all sorts of prime shopping down there," Harry said, closing his eyes as Draco began to thread his fingers through his hair.
"Are you suggesting all I do is shop?" Draco said with a grin.
"Have you seen our closets recently?" Harry quipped. "We have plenty of proof to support my theory. But we can stay here, if you like. It was just a thought."
"This is home," Draco said with a shrug. "This flat, you…I can't imagine living anywhere else. Or being with anyone else, for that matter. I'm comfortable here."
"I'm glad," Harry whispered. "Now, what's for supper?"
Draco crossed his legs and cooed, "Whatever you fix after you get off your lazy ass. I've cooked the last two nights in a row. I'm sure you can fend for yourself."
"Fine," Harry sighed dramatically. "You know the drill when it's my turn to cook. Honestly, you leave me no other choice."
"No need to be so dramatic," Draco said as he shoved Harry's head out of his lap and made his way to the kitchen. "Italian, Chinese, or Indian?"
"Never again will we get Indian food," Harry called. "Chinese, I think."
"As the master wishes," Draco muttered as he returned to the sitting room, takeout menu in hand. "And please, for the love of all things magical, don't just order something you think will gross me out."
Harry sighed again. "I promise you that it wasn't real cat, I just said it was to…"
"And the rat?"
"It wasn't rat either. The only things that ever come in those boxes are animals you normally eat," Harry replied flatly. "You're just incredibly gullible."
"That's what you think," Draco said in a sing-song tone as he grabbed the phone. "Are you ready to order yet?"
"Just because you always get the same boring thing…" Harry muttered as he looked over the menu, his bottom lip between his teeth. "Alright, I want the number…13, I think."
Draco dialed the number as he whispered, "Wonder of wonders, Harry Potter makes a decision all on his own."
"I make all sorts of decisions on my own," Harry said with a dismissive wave. "I…I do, don't I?"
Draco just chuckled and placed their order.
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It was a year and six months before Harry could think about his and Draco's relationship and not cry. Nearly two years until he could do the same and not feel an ache in his heart.
He knew by the way that everyone; Ginny, Neville, Ron, and even Hermione, refused to talk about Draco that he and Nik were rather serious. The thought bothered Harry, mostly because he wanted to talk about it. He seriously wanted to know what Nik was like, why he was so much better than he was.
But that sort of thinking just gave Harry a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he had long since rid himself of.
Instead he went out and found himself a new job at a bookshop in Diagon Alley and tried to rebuild the life he had once had, only without one vital element:
Draco.
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You're beautiful
You're beautiful
You're beautiful, it's true
I saw your face
In a crowded place
But it's time to face the truth
I will never be with you