Could things have been different, Harry asked himself as he lay awake in bed, if he'd chosen another path in life? Of course they would, but would they be better? It was hard to imagine that they would. He thought about how his life could've gone if he'd stayed with Ginny and waded through life the way everyone seemed to think he should've. If anything, he thought he would've been secretly miserable, but there was no way he could know. He wouldn't have had a comparison back then, and now he couldn't wish for anything more than what he had in that moment.
It wouldn't have killed him if he'd continued as the person he was only two years before. Perhaps being an Auror could've, but the rest was innocent enough. He'd been married to a lovely witch, living in a fine, humble house. Ginny had pursued her career with the Holyhead Harpies, Harry had been one of the best Aurors in the department, if what Kingsley had said held any truth. They would come home at the end of the day, worn out from their respective employment, and eat a healthy dinner together. They'd bickered over what they'd have for pudding, only to settle on the same thing they had every other night. They'd make love quietly, most nights, before falling asleep in their comfortable bed. The next day would come and it would be a repeat of the one that preceded it. Even on the evenings they would join Hermione and Ron for dinner he could expect the same light conversation, the same inside jokes, the same talk of starting families and work and plans and…
Harry wasn't unhappy with that life. Truly, he wasn't. For the life of him, however, he couldn't remember feeling genuinely happy. His marriage hadn't even ended in passionate arguments and insults thrown with the intent to harm. Everything had gone as simply and as agreeably as possible, with he and Ginny deciding that better things awaited them without the setback that marriage had begun to cause in its subtle ways.
But wasn't that strange? Harry certainly thought so. At the time it hadn't seemed strange at all. He'd been more than satisfied that he and Ginny had separated so easily, with no hard feelings. It had enabled him to still be a part of the Weasleys' lives. They continued inviting him to family dinners, Christmases, and the like. None of it was uncomfortable or awkward. Ron hadn't supported the divorce, but he understood that his sister and best friend would be happier apart, from what they'd told him.
But now… now that Harry knew passion, knew challenge, knew what life could be when lived to its fullest, he had realised that the reason his divorce had gone so well was that the marriage had lacked passion. His entire life had lacked passion once Voldemort had been defeated. At first, that was precisely what he'd wanted and he'd been content to live a quiet, boring life.
Leaving the Aurors hadn't been a difficult decision to make. Not once he saw that it was just another thing that had kept him from experiencing the things he did now. It had never crossed Harry's mind that maybe he wasn't destined to be all the things he'd been striving towards, not until Draco had entered his life.
A reminiscent smile bloomed on Harry's parted lips. Everything had started with Draco, it seemed.
As though his heart had been a hearth waiting for kindling, Harry had fought with Draco upon their first meeting after the war, and Draco had fought back. It was their schoolboy rivalry all over again, though years had passed since Harry had been in school. Curses and hexes were thrown, and when those didn't work, fists replaced their wands in the battle. Harry chuckled as he remembered the look on the barmaid's face in The Three Broomsticks. Nobody had interfered, which was for the best. In that state of mind Harry doubted he could've prevented himself from hurting someone who got between him and Draco.
When the fight ended with Draco holding his broken nose, crouching in a corner of the pub, Harry had said something he'd never dreamed he'd get the chance to. Maybe the words had been waiting in the very back of his head, stolen from a moment that Harry would never forget, but it was these words that he knew had paved this new path for him.
"That's for my father. Enjoy your ride back to London." Spite and venom had filled these words, and he'd hoped they were received with as much pain as his fists inflicted.
Draco had looked at Harry in confusion, his chest heaving from the effort the battle had taken. Recognition crossed his silver eyes as he seemed to recall the moment on the Hogwarts Express, when he'd broken Harry's nose with his well-polished shoe. Then, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, Draco had started laughing.
Outrage had filled Harry at the sound of laughter coming from the lips of his enemy. It wasn't meant to be funny. He'd only said it to give Draco a dose of his own medicine, so why was he laughing?
Harry looked down at himself. His robes were torn, there was blood trickling down one of his arms, and he was sure he looked a right mess. He looked back at Draco, who was laughing still, with blood leaking from his nose down his face. Draco looked absolutely ridiculous.
Harry began laughing, too, when he realised just how stupid the situation was. Anyone looking at this change of pace from the outside probably thought the two of them needed mind healers. Harry wasn't certain that he hadn't been completely mad in that moment, either. But it hadn't mattered, not then. He had offered a hand to Draco and helped him stand up, then cast several cleaning charms on the both of them, as well as one to fix Draco's nose.
"Buy you a drink?" Draco asked, his eyes still filled with mirth. Harry had nodded and together they'd taken stools at the bar.
From there it was a very slippery slope. That very night they'd wound up in Malfoy Manor together. Draco had invited Harry back when the bar closed, but their conversation hadn't reached an end. There was quite a lot to catch up on. Draco and Astoria had divorced right around the same time Harry and Ginny had, and in much the same way, for many of the same reasons. There had been no love, no passion, no driving force to keep them together. Astoria wanted to leave the country, travel and see the world. Draco wanted to stay in Britain and continue working towards his mastery of astronomy.
Harry told Draco of his own divorce and both had laughed at the similarities between their separate love lives.
The whole night didn't go as swimmingly as the start of it, though. After a spoken thought was misunderstood, one Harry could scarcely remember, Draco became defensive. The two of them began arguing, shouting horrible things to each other. Slowly, they'd crossed the space between the two sofas they'd been sitting on, until their faces were inches apart. Harry was about to shout a scathing retort to something Draco had screamed at him━
And suddenly Harry was involved in a furious kiss. He still recalled the way Draco's fingers had dug into the collar of his robes and the sensation of being yanked towards him, his lips soon being crushed with the weight of Draco's anger.
At first Harry had frozen. What was going on? They'd been fighting, yelling, hurling words filled with abhorrence with the same speed they'd thrown curses earlier in the evening. Then Draco's hands moved and Harry was held around the waist by a firm arm, his head being secured by long, sure fingers. His body responded with little thought, arms mimicking the positions that Draco's took, and he felt himself falling into the kiss with no lingering hesitation.
Never had Harry felt passion like this from Ginny, not after the war, not through the entirety of their marriage.
It didn't take long at all for Harry to realise that this was what he wanted━ who he wanted.
They hadn't even made it to a bedroom before their clothes were being discarded in a hurried fashion. Harry thought nothing at all of what he was doing, or if Draco knew what he was doing. There was no room for thought, only action, and instinct took over as the two of them sought not for dominance, but for relief from the burning that had begun when their eyes had first met in the pub that evening.
More than five years had passed since that night, but if one compared the fervor of their relationship to another of the same length it seemed they'd only been together months. Harry had no idea why their relationship was just as full of life and vigor as it had been at the start, but he wasn't about to change things now.
Their relationship had never been perfect, over the years. He and Draco argued regularly, would go days without speaking in the worst cases, but when they finally did it was as if they'd been starved of each other. Their words would overlap in frenzied apologies, their fingers would search through locks of hair for the forgiveness they felt they'd perish without, their anger completely forgotten, as well as the subject of it. They were passionate, in every sense of the word.
Harry had never thought much about his sexuality, or whether he could be attracted to men in general. He'd never had a crush on a boy in school, never contemplated romantically the men he'd worked with as an Auror, or even men he'd look at in passing. Then again, he rarely thought that way about women, either. After his divorce he never felt it worth his time to invest in relationships, regardless of the gender of the person in question.
Until Draco.
Harry rolled over and curled an arm around Draco's slim waist, planting light kisses on the nape of his neck and then resting his forehead there. He heard Draco mumble sleepily and felt his heart speed up at the sound, though there was no real reason for that reaction. That was one thing he loved about his life now, however. He didn't need a reason for his heart to speed up, for his breath to catch in his throat, for his stomach to flutter and flip in excitement. No reason at all, except Draco.
And maybe, just maybe, if Ginny had conjured these reactions from him in any real way, he would've stayed. But he didn't want to know. He didn't need to know.
"I love you," Harry sighed against Draco's spine.
"Wonderful," came the mumbled reply full of sleep.
Harry grinned again and felt his stomach clench in an intense burst of euphoria. It was wonderful. Harry easily let go of any thoughts of what could've been, what could've happened, as he moved in closer against the warmth of Draco's back and fell asleep.
And if he dreamed of anything besides silken, white hair, sterling eyes, and milk flesh, he couldn't remember in the morning.