I'm Leaving
Not really a songfic, but again, angsty.
Warnings: non-explicit slash
Disclaimer: They are none of them mine. I am only borrowing them for a short while… I don't own the lyrics either. And apologies in advance for the cheesiness.
Draco slid out of bed silently, making sure not to wake his sleeping lover. There was enough light seeping in through the cheap curtains for him to see his way around the cramped room. He had packed all his stuff the night before. There wasn't much. There never was. Just yesterday's clothes, wash kit, phone, keys, wallet. It all fitted in a bag small enough to cause no suspicion. He'd told his wife he was going on a business trip. She'd believed him, as always. He didn't like leaving her; she was pregnant. Then again, Harry's wife was too. And he'd left her for one night, just like he had. It wasn't the first time; but it would be the last.
Glancing around, he checked for anything he might have left. All clear. He sat down carefully on the floor, not trusting the threadbare sofa not to squeak. Then he pulled out a pen and a notepad, and started to write the hardest letter of his life.
Harry lay in the warm bed, listening to his lover moving around. Draco was leaving. He knew. If anyone had asked him how, he couldn't have said, but he knew.
Part of him wanted to leap up, grab Draco and implore him not to go, knowing full well that he would give in, and stay. But Harry knew, really, that Draco was, for once in his life, thinking of someone other than himself.
He felt, rather than saw, the movement as Draco picked up his suitcase and walked over to where Harry lay pretending to be asleep. He heard a muffled clatter and a rustle of paper as something was put onto the bedside table. Then there was a kiss, so light he could barely feel it, on his forehead, a whispered "Goodbye, Harry," and a click as the door closed. But it didn't swing shut quite fast enough to block out the other man's choked sob.
Harry lay still for a few moments, alone in a crappy hotel room. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and switched on the bedside light.
There was an unlabelled disc beside the CD player. Harry slid it in, but he did not press play. Instead, he bent down to pick up the piece of paper that had fallen to the floor, and read:
Harry,
Play it. Think of me.
I love you.
Nothing else, though Harry turned it over and over, willing more words to appear. He even tried a few charms, but nothing worked. At last, defeated, he did as it said, and leant back as an unaccompanied female voice began to sing softly.
"If I should stay
I would only be in your way
So I'll go
But I know
I'll think of you every step of the way
And I will always love you
Will always love you
You
My darling, you
Bittersweet memories
That is all I'm taking with me
So good-bye
Please don't cry
We both know I'm not what you need
And I will always love you
I will always love you
You
I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of
And I wish you joy and happiness
But above all this
I wish you love
And I will always love you
I will always love you…"
(Like? Don't like? Hands up who wants fluff next time!)
