Summary: You're meeting up with Draco, a close relative of yours, for the first time in ages. You've changed, and you know it - you've just gotten out of a bad relationship and you no longer believe in the existence of love. But he's changed, too. He's...happy. How? A story about the existence of love and giving love a chance, because it's always worth it in the end.

Notes: This fic is written for the Welcome Back To Hogwarts fest for hd_writers on LJ. The assignment was to write a Drarry fic from the POV of neither Harry nor Draco. This isn't the type of fic I usually do, but I wanted to try something new, so I hope you like it!

Warnings: This story is told from the reader's perspective. It's from your POV, and therefore is told in second person. Mentions of past negative relationship.

Disclaimer: I don't own. I just borrow the characters to play with them before putting them back.

Sometimes

Sometimes, when you fall, it kills you.

You step into the café, feeling exhausted and overworked. You've been working hours that are far too long and hard, but it's the only way you can keep yourself on your feet. And you're barely even managing that – keeping on your feet – ever since he broke up with you.

But you didn't come here to think about your ex. You came here to meet up with an old relative of yours – a third cousin twice removed or something like that – and you don't want to bring negative vibes along with you. You haven't seen Draco in ages, and the pair of you have always been very close. It's admittedly your fault that you fell out of touch two years ago – you got carried away with a new, doomed, financially and emotionally abusive relationship, and –

There you go again, thinking about your ex. You have to stop that. He left you for someone else five months ago; you should be over this by now.

You realise, now, that love doesn't exist. It's a figment of the imagination, a beautiful lie told by parents to their children to convince them that there's something positive waiting for them somewhere. If only you'd realised that sooner.

Shaking your head distractedly at your own idiocy, you glance unhurriedly around the room, searching for signs of a platinum blond head amongst the tables. You don't expect to find him there yet. Draco's always had a habit of being fashionably late. The last time you arranged a meeting with him – about a month before the Second Wizarding War broke out – he had arrived half an hour later than promised with an infuriatingly arrogant swagger and no apology whatsoever. You smile to yourself and roll your eyes – ever the insufferable prick, your cousin.

You really don't think he's here yet, which is why it startles you when you hear a voice calling you. You spin around are extremely surprised to see Draco smirking at you from a table.

"Drake!" you grin. You know that nickname always used to irk him, but you say it anyway. He's grown a lot, you notice – he's put on enough weight to look more slim than skinny, and he's managed to grow into his pointy features. They're still angular, but look almost appealing. He's done well for himself. Good for him.

He stands up and greets you, and you're startled when instead of giving you the usual businesslike handshake, he pulls you into a hug instead. You reciprocate, but you're wondering what the matter with him is. He turns up, not just on time, but early, and he engages willingly in physical contact. No, he doesn't just engage it – he initiates it. Perhaps you've both changed a lot more over the years than you expected.

He pulls out a chair for you – still remembers Pureblood manners, you note – and you sit down and thank him.

"How've you been?" he asks conversationally, and you're taken aback by the lack of coolness in his voice. The last time you spoke was during the War, and you distinctly remember that no matter how warm the sentiment, Draco kept everything carefully guarded under false nonchalance. You also recall how hard it was to learn to gauge when he was being forcibly polite and when he was being genuinely friendly.

"Seen better days," you respond.

"Rough year?"

"Something like that."

He smiles at you, sensing that you don't want to talk about it, and again, you're surprised by the warmth in that smile.

"But you've clearly had a good run," you observe.

"You might say that," Draco smirks. The cocky half-smile is familiar, but the twinkle in his blue eyes is not. You're fairly certain that those eyes were cold and empty last time you saw them, but now they seem alive.

"So what have you been up to?" you question.

"I'm studying to become a Healer," Draco replies, another thing that surprises you. The Draco you remember is selfish, money-minded, and completely impatient. A Healer is the one occupation you find it difficult to picture him in. "But I work part time as a Potions tutor to finance that."

You nod. He and his family lost all their fortune after the War. It was just like Draco not to ask for help, and the familiarity of that old Malfoy pride reassures you. Still, tutoring is another one of those jobs you never envisioned Draco having the patience for. "How's that working out for you?"

Draco pauses, eyeing you carefully, and you're afraid you might have said something offensive. It's true that you've grown more crass over the past two years, mostly thanks to that ex of yours, and you wouldn't be surprised if Draco, being the egotistical bastard he is, takes your inquiry the wrong way.

Then Draco does something amazing that you didn't expect at all. He throws his head back and he laughs. And not just a half-hearted snort, like he used to, or a cruel snigger, as was customary for him, but a full on, genuine laugh that reverberates across the café.

"What?" you ask, slightly annoyed by his lack of predictability.

"You've been edgy since I said hello to you," he states, still chuckling, the sides of his eyes crinkling in semi-delight. "What's up?"

You smile in defeat. He's always been able to read you well. While you may be a cryptic puzzle to others – as Draco is to his peers – Draco has always been able to see right through you. "Nothing, really," you sigh. "You've just…changed. A lot."

Draco looks genuinely startled by this, and you wonder vaguely when he started becoming so open, so unguarded about his emotions. He used to carefully keep a stoic expression so that no one would know his exact reaction to a statement, and now, he's baring it all. "I have?" he asks.

You nod.

"I guess we've all changed a little," he allows mildly. The waiter arrives with your food, and both of you dig in. You keep the conversation going, and allow yourself to throw some jokes into the mix, even though you remember him scoffing at your odd sense of humour when you were younger. He doesn't scoff now, though. Instead, he rolls his eyes and laughs unabashedly at almost all your gags. You barely recognise this guy – he's early, he's open, he's warm, and he's not some kind of locked casket you have to work open. Of course, he still makes snide remarks and sarcastic comments that make you call him a git, but there's a touch of something jovial in each of them, and you can tell he doesn't truly mean any of them (except for the one about the horrible clothes that girl sitting at an opposite table is wearing). He's cheerful and doesn't talk about himself too much – a refreshing but strange change.

Then you realise what the biggest difference is. He's happy. Really, honestly happy. When you last saw him all those months ago, he was nervous and frightened, empty and broken, his mouth set in a scowl and his eyes clouded with sadness – or even worse, at certain times, completely blank. Now, they sparkle, and he smiles so much you wonder how his mouth doesn't hurt from it. He's happy.

Just as you make this connection, Draco looks up, and his eyes fix on someone standing behind you. You didn't think it was possibly for his silvery eyes to sparkle any more than they already are, but they do. In fact, Draco seems to glow as he motions behind you, his lips curling up in a full-blown smile.

You turn around and you see a man walking up to your table, wearing a grin that could outshine Draco's. This man has messy black hair and wears ridiculously dorky glasses, and it takes you a moment to recognise him as the one and only Harry Potter. You aren't that impressed by his presence, as most of the hype surrounding him receded greatly over the past year or so, but you have no idea what he's doing here.

Harry slips in to the seat beside Draco and smiles at you. "Hi," he says. "Draco's told me all about you."

"Afternoon," you reply, glancing warily at Draco.

"I'd like you to meet Harry," Draco says, and your jaw nearly drops when Draco turns towards Harry and smiles at him in the softest, sweetest, gentlest way you've ever seen. "My boyfriend."

You hastily introduce yourself, although Harry already knows who you are, and all of a sudden you feel as if you're intruding on a private moment. Neither Draco nor Harry do anything to make you feel that way – they include you in the conversation and ask you lots of questions, and their eyes are fixed on you for most of the time – but their intimacy is so apparent, so obvious, that it's almost beautiful and you don't feel as if you're deserving enough to witness it. You know their hands are linked under the table. You see the way they look at each other almost unconsciously, and you see the way they mirror and lean towards each other, almost as if they're connected on a deeper level than just joined hands. You didn't think it was possible for Draco of all people to look so content and to be this unguarded.

Eventually, lunch ends, and Harry bids you a good day before graciously walking off to give you and Draco some privacy to exchange words that he knows you wouldn't be comfortable with him hearing. You congratulate Draco in your head – he's managed to bag the Man Who Lived Twice, and said man is gentlemanly, handsome, and definitely intuitive. Then again, Harry's pretty darned lucky to have managed to snag Draco. You know how much your cousin loves to play hard-to-get. He must have driven Harry mad.

Draco's eyes follow Harry as he pays the bill at the counter, and you notice him smiling in that peaceful way again. How on earth has Draco managed to change so much? Of course, he's still him, really, with his slightly arrogant scoffs and potentially mean comments, and he still clearly cares about his appearance very much and thinks himself higher up than several other people. You can see that in the way he talks and moves, and hear it in the way he speaks. He's still your old Draco – just the best version of him possible. You wonder if he's high-maintenance, realise he probably is, and then notice that Harry doesn't seem to mind at all. Maybe some of that changed in Draco, too, but you doubt it – a part of you knows that Draco will probably always be a little git. Just...a nicer little git.

"When's the wedding?" you tease, once Harry is out of earshot.

Draco blushes – you've never known him to blush – but laughs. "What about you? How about your love life?"

You shrug. "Been in love once or twice. It's really not much to shout about."

Draco looks at you then, and you see a sort of understanding sympathy in his eyes. "That's only because you haven't found the right person."

You want to make some scathing remark, but a puzzle piece comes sliding into place with Draco's words, and you scarcely believe the conclusion you are led to draw.

Draco is happy because he's in love. He's changed because Harry brings out the best in him, and they're completely, utterly in love.

But love doesn't exist, right? That's what you've trained yourself to think for the past few months, and as far as you've seen, it's true. You've watched couples fight out in public, seen scandals involving cheating husbands and gold-digging women, and read about people murdering their so-called loved ones. You're pretty sure love isn't all it's made out to be.

But...looking at Draco like this, how can you not believe in it? How can you not see love in its finest form? You've seen a man broken, beaten down, hurt, sarcastic, snobbish and cold turn into a laughing, smiling, warm, purely content man. Sure, he's still sarcastic and snobbish, but he's happy, and as much as it pains you to admit it, you like seeing him like this. So if being in love, or whatever it is, is going to help him, you're more than willing to accept it.

You hug Draco one last time before you leave.

"Don't be a stranger," you say.

"I won't," he assures you.

You're about to walk off when he calls out after you. You turn to face him.

"Love is a strange, fickle little thing," he tells you. "And sometimes, it does break more than it mends, especially while you're still looking for it. But at the end of the day, when you find the real thing, it's all worth it. Trust me."

And then he's turned and is pacing towards Harry, who is waiting for him a few feet away.

You smile to yourself. You know Draco means well, but you just can't imagine yourself with anyone right now, boy or girl.

You spin around abruptly to start walking again when you crash into someone. You lose your balance and are sent sprawling unceremoniously onto the sidewalk. You strike your knee painfully against the concrete and are suddenly glad that Draco's too far away and too wrapped up in Harry to hear you curse.

"I'm so sorry!" a man's voice exclaims, and someone grabs your arm to pull you up. The touch is soft and warm. "I didn't mean to – I wasn't paying attention – oh, are you alright?"

You glance up and feel your eyes widen. Standing before you is a young man, about your age, incredibly good looking and appearing very flustered. You quickly find your voice. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's alright. I wasn't looking either."

He grins in relief. "Thank goodness. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself." He pauses, studying your face, and you try not to squirm under the bright gaze. "Wow."

You flush, but fix with him with a perfectly masked expression. You don't have time for this. "Excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

He nods, somewhat breathless, and also a little disappointed. It takes you a few moments to figure out why. "Right," he says hastily. "Of course. Sorry. Have a nice day."

You politely go past him, but even as you walk away, you can feel his eyes trained on you, watching you. It could be your imagination, but you're pretty sure it isn't. You stop in your tracks, sigh and make a split-second decision.

Before you have time to overthink it, you whirl around again to face him. Sure enough, he's still looking at you. You swallow down the panic and fear rising in your throat and focus on the butterflies in your stomach instead.

"Would you like to...grab a cup of coffee?" you ask.

The man stares at you for several moments before he grins, his own face turning a red to rival your own. "I...Yeah! Of course! I mean, sure. I'd like to."

You almost giggle, but catch yourself just in time. You approach him again and introduce yourself, and he does the same, and both of you start to walk back towards the restaurant. As you do, you send a silent prayer of thanks to Draco and Harry, because they could be very, very responsible for starting something new and brilliant.

So, yes. It's true. Sometimes, when you fall, it kills you.

But then again, sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

End

A/N: Please do drop me a review! I love to hear constructive criticism. :)