"I can't believe you would do this to me," Harry whispered. He eyes were glued to the floor, tears flooding them.
"Harry, it's not what it looks like," Draco began, reaching a hand out to the former Gryffindor. Harry stepped out of his reach, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the blonde.
"And what does it look like, Draco? What I see is you making love to another man in our bed!"
"Harry—"
"How could you do this to me?" The words were barely above a whisper, but they were enough to silence Draco. Harry shook his head, turning towards the fireplace.
"Harry, please," Draco pleaded. "I love you."
"Those words have saved you in the past, Draco. But they won't now. It's over."
"Harry—"
The flames roared in the hearth…and then he was gone. Draco stood, silent and still as he stared at the dying embers. Not even the footsteps behind him drew him from his reverie.
"Coming back to bed, tiger?" a voice cooed. Draco didn't have to turn to know it was the young blonde he'd been shagging.
"Get out," Draco said, his voice cold and menacing.
"You can't be serious?" the man replied. "We were just getting started—"
"Get out!" Draco screamed, turning his glare on the man. He waited while the man gathered his clothes and watched him leave. Draco sank down to the floor, running his hands through his hair as he sighed.
He'd really done it this time. He'd slipped up before, of course, and his actions had been the cause of multiple arguments between him and Harry. But now he'd gone too far. It wasn't that he was unhappy with Harry. It was quite the opposite. Draco loved Harry more than he could ever express. It wasn't that he was unsatisfied with their love life—he and Harry had sex several times a week, and it was the best sex Draco had ever had. The act wasn't premeditated. He hadn't planned to cheat, it had just sort of happened. The young man had intrigued him, and Draco was never one to shy away from intrigue.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't have done it, but there a was a second voice inside his head that suppressed his conscience, told him to go ahead with it and that he wouldn't—couldn't—get caught. Harry was supposed to be working late at the Ministry, after all. How was he to know he'd turn up three hours early?
Draco shook his head. Why was he trying to defend himself? He shouldn't have cheated, end of story. There was no glorifying his actions, no telling himself that Harry just misunderstood. Draco had cheated, Harry had left. Why would expect anything else? He buried his face in his hands, wondering how on earth he was going to fix this. That's what he would have to do, after all. He couldn't live without Harry—that much he knew for sure. Life without Harry….well, it just wasn't life at all.
The next evening, Draco returned home from work to find all of Harry's things were gone. A note explained he was moving in with Ginny, and that he never wanted to see Draco again. Draco groaned and aimed a kick at the wall, cursing as pain shot through his foot. He poured himself a glass of scotch and settled on the couch for an evening of self loathing.
He didn't go to work the next day, or the day after that. He stayed home and drank. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep more than an hour or two here and there. Blaise came to see him the next evening, when they usually met for a 'boy's night out' dinner. What he found was a disheveled, depressed and intoxicated man that he didn't recognize as his best friend.
"I can't do this anymore, Blaise," Draco slurred as he lit a cigarette. Harry had convinced him to give up smoking after their first year together, but it hadn't taken long for Draco to fall back into the habit now. Smoking was his way of dealing with stress. "It's been less than a week, but I miss him. I can't live without him."
Blaise shook his head, picking up the empty, discarded scotch bottles. "Mate, listen to me," he said, tossing the bottles into the rubbish bin and sitting down across from the blonde. "Killing yourself like this won't bring you any closer to getting Harry back."
Draco nodded. "I know."
"Have you tried talking to him? If you went over there and apologized, maybe groveled a little…"
"I did apologize, Blaise. And he still left."
"I can't say I blame him. Any apology given right after you've been caught cheating would seem insincere. But it's been a few days now. Harry's had time to cool down a little, both of you have had time to think." Draco didn't speak, only stared at the floor with the cigarette still burning in his hand. "It's up to you, mate," Blaise went on. "Let me know what you've decided once you've sobered up. I'll drive you."
After Blaise left, Draco stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He stared down his reflection in the mirror, wondering how in the hell he'd gotten this deep. He hardly recognized himself. He looked older, somehow, as though he'd aged years in the past few days. The happiness that had always shown in his face when he was with Harry was gone.
Draco turned and leaned back against the counter, pulling his mobile from his pocket. He dialed a number, and after two rings Blaise's voice answered on the other end.
"Tomorrow at one," Draco said. "It's time I told him how much I love him."
"Good to hear it, mate," Blaise replied, the relief evident in his voice. "I'll pick you up at twelve."
The ride through the busy streets of London was a quiet one; Draco hadn't said a word since Blaise had picked him up. A thousand different scenarios played through his mind: Would Harry accept his apology? Would he even let him inside? Would he take Draco back after what he'd done—would Harry even consider it? These questions had been plaguing him since he'd ended his call with Blaise the previous night. He hadn't slept well that night. He kept hearing Harry's words echoing in his memory. "How could you do this to me? It's over…." The car rolled to a stop and Draco looked silently up at the apartment building he and Harry had visited several times over the past year and a half.
"I'll wait here, mate," Blaise said quietly. Draco nodded and opened the door, stepping out onto the curb. He took a deep breath before stepping through the glass front doors and heading for the lift.
As the lift carried him upward, the blonde once again thought about how best to make his apology. Should he grovel on his knees and beg for forgiveness? If it were anyone but Harry, he wouldn't even consider it. Perhaps if he made himself look horrid, played a pity card? No, that was insulting to Harry.
Still distraught, Draco heard the 'ding' of the lift, like a siren beckoning him into the fiery depths of hell. But, for Harry, he would go there and back a thousand times over. Maybe that was how he should approach this…be brutally honest about the way he felt.
He knocked once, and waited as patiently as he could manage. The sound of footsteps graced his ears and his heart fell as he recognized the clicking of high heels. Even before he saw the fiery flash of red hair, he knew who would open the door. Ginny's initial look of contempt seemed to fade almost instantly as she looked him over.
"Draco," she said quietly. "You look awful." He forced a smile.
"Thanks," he muttered, suddenly much more uncomfortable than he had ever thought possible. "Is Harry—"
"He went out," she replied. "Come in, please." Draco hesitated, then nodded as he stepped past her into the apartment. Glancing around, everything seemed just as he remembered it—apart from the emerald scarf that now hung on the rack. Draco smiled slightly. He'd given it to Harry for Christmas two years ago, as a joke. What better for a true Gryffindor to wear than the color of a Slytherin?
"How've you been?" Ginny asked, motioning Draco towards the sofa. He smiled and took a seat, trying his best to get comfortable.
"Uhm…alright, I suppose. You?" he replied, a little uncertain and overly confused about why she was being so friendly.
"Good, good." She glanced at her watch. "Damn, I'm going to be late." She stood and grabbed her coat from the rack, pulling it on hastily and reaching for her own lavender scarf. "You can stay here for a while if you like. Harry should be back soon."
"I don't know if…"
"You two need to talk. It'll benefit you both. He'll be difficult at first—Harry's always been rather stubborn. But talking will be good for him. He needs to listen to you." Draco stayed quiet, not knowing what to say in reply. Ginny bent down to give him a brief hug. "It was good seeing you Draco." And with that, she slipped out the door.
The moments slipped by with an agonizing slowness. Each tick of the clock seemed unnaturally loud, as if scolding him for being there. He should leave. It would only make things worse if Harry walked in and found him here, alone. He stood and made the first step to the door just as it opened. His heart leapt at the sight of familiar black hair and broad shoulders. Harry had his back turned to Draco for the first few moments as he closed the door behind him.
"Hey, Gin!" he called, turning. "I—" He froze as his bright emerald eyes focused on the blonde. Draco could practically feel the tension, thick and ominous—almost palpable—as it filled the room, constricting the air between them. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked after several long moments. His voice was cold, unfeeling. He hadn't spoken to Draco like that since school—it stung.
"I…I wanted to talk to you," Draco replied.
"And what makes you think I want to listen?"
"Ginny said—"
"I'm aware of Ginny's opinion on the whole situation. Unfortunately for you, she's not my keeper. I want nothing to do with you."
"Harry, please—"
"Please? Please? You really think that word has any meaning here? This is beyond 'please'. Don't bother with 'sorry', either. That one's lost its weight, too." Harry pulled off his jacket, tossing it onto the rack as he headed for the kitchen.
Draco stood frozen in the middle of the room, unsure whether he should go or stay. The clinking of glass and sharp snap of a closing cabinet drew his attention. Harry appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a glass of rum in one hand.
"Talk," he muttered, taking a drink. Draco stared at him for a moment or two.
"What?"
"You came here to talk, so talk before I change my mind about listening." Harry sat down in one of the armchairs before the empty fireplace. Draco cleared his throat and began his apology.
"The past few days, I've been thinking a lot. I've fucked up everything. I threw everything away for a meaningless fuck and lost the most important thing in my life. I really do love you, Harry, even though it doesn't exactly seem like it right now. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'd do anything for you. I'd die for you, Harry."
The room was eerily quiet. Harry took another sip of his rum, looking over the timid blonde before him. He'd never seen Draco like this: he looked terrible. His eyes were blood shot—he looked as though he hadn't slept in days. Harry averted his eyes, doing everything in his power to avoid looking at Malfoy. No matter how many times he told himself he didn't care, it still hurt to see Draco like this.
'And what of you?' a voice asked from the back of his mind. 'Did he even pause to think of what this did to you? Did he even care?' Harry didn't know. Surely, Draco must have cared. Surely he loved him enough to be bothered by Harry's pain. Surely… 'Don't be week, Harry. This bastard hurt you. He doesn't care about you. He only thinks of himself.' There was another part of Harry that knew this accusation to be false. But the anger overpowered the reason, and he felt his blood run cold.
"Do you really still expect me to fall for that, Draco?" he asked, his voice like ice. Draco's silver eyes looked sorrowfully up at him, glistening with building tears. He'd never seen Draco cry before. "I'm tired of your lies." The anger was building as he remembered the scene he'd discovered barely a week before—Draco's hips were moving quickly, slamming against the stranger he held. Draco was flushed with desire, his skin slick and shining with sweat. The blonde slut beneath him was panting and groaning, gripping the mattress as he pushed his body up into Draco's thrusts. Harry felt the blood pounding in his ears. "I'm done with you, Draco!" he screamed. "I'm done with you!"
Draco shrank back, feeble and broken before Harry's rage. He turned and fled as the tears escaped down his face. He didn't remember getting into the elevator, or stepping out into the rain that was pouring from the dark clouds overhead. He slumped against the leather seat of Blaise's car, staring out the window without seeing anything beyond the glass.
"Take me home, Blaise," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the beating of the rain against the black sports car. He saw Blaise open his mouth to speak and held up a hand, shaking his head. "Just take me home, please."
Two days. It had been two days since the horrible visit with Harry. Once Draco was home, he didn't leave again. He didn't sleep. He sat alone in the dark, staring into nothing. Harry was still angry with him. Harry didn't want him anymore. Harry hated him.
"There's no point to my life," Draco whispered. "Without Harry, there's no reason worth living." He looked down at his wand lying on the end table. It had been there for two days now, mocking him. It dared him to do what he thought about doing. It beckoned to him, calling him a coward, saying he didn't have the nerve to do it. A muscle twitched in Draco's cheek as he clenched his jaw. He did have the nerve. He reached for his wand, wrapping his hand tightly around the smooth wood handle.
The tip was cool against his temple, almost soothing. He was so close now—so close to peace and being pain-free. His heart wouldn't hurt anymore. He wouldn't ache for Harry with every inch of his being. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His lips began to form the incantation, his voice a whisper in the blackness of his despair.
"Avada—"
Several things happened at once. There was a sudden flare of emerald green flame in the fireplace, a scuffle, and Draco's wand was flying out of his hand as his back hit the ground. Something heavy and warm landed on top of him. The weight was familiar, and that smell… He knew that smell.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Angry green eyes, emerald like the flames, bored into lightless silver depths. "Are you insane?"
"Harry," Draco whispered. Was it really him? It couldn't be. Harry hated him.
"You fucking idiot." It was Harry. And he was holding him. He was holding Draco so tightly it almost hurt, but Draco didn't mind. This was a good pain, the pain of being loved. "I love you, you bastard." Harry pressed his lips to Draco's. Heat flooded Draco's body, melting away the icy remains of his darkness. There was light now, chasing away the shadows. Harry was his light, his warmth. Harry was everything. "I never should have left you," Harry whispered, tears making his voice crack. Draco smiled and kissed him. Life was worth living once again.
The End
Author Note:
I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's finally DONE! The cause of my nearly six month period of writers block is DONE! I thinks this calls for a celebration! *dances to "Single Ladies"*