I'll stay for today
As Draco Malfoy lay tangled among the toffee coloured sheets, the redolence of his affair lingering in the air, he could feel the warmth and contentment seeping in, urging him to stay. Thus he dealt with it in the typical Malfoy fashion, he ran.
Shrugging on his Italian cut cream shirt with ill concealed grace, he could feel a pair of endless emerald eyes boring into his back. He knew, with each time he left, the hope those eyes held died a little.
'What was he supposed to do, The Saviour and a Death Eater?' Scoffing at the very absurdity of the notion, Draco donned his silver arctic fox trim fur coat.
Draco knew no matter how many "forgot" his past in favour of his wealth and influence, they would just as quickly remember should his sordid little affair come to light.
Excuses. The malicious whisper of his conscience echoed his denial.
Harry had no such worries, he and Ginny had long since divorced, after having realised it would never work out. With Harry's nature, he would face all their obstacles in strive, and Draco knew Harry would protect him at all costs, regardless of the objection they would face. All Draco had to do was stay. It was so tempting to give in to the security and happiness that Harry was promising.
However, Draco knew he was a coward.
Yes, he would never want Harry to face the polluting hate and burning insults he knew would come from Harry's adoring public, but more than that, Draco did not have the courage to face what he knew would come.
He did not have the strength to return to the days where he had to pull his family name from the mud it had sank into. He was scared. Scared to relieve the days where his name meant nothing, where he was worth nothing.
But as Draco closed the door, leaving behind yet another empty promise of tomorrow, Draco wondered whether sacrificing Harry's and his happiness because of his fear, was really worth it.
Truthfully, Draco did not even know if he loved Harry.
He knew he did not love his wife, Daphne, and the feeling was reciprocated. Theirs was merely a marriage of convenience. He knew to a certain extent his parents had loved him, but that love was hardly shown, often-masked beneath disdain, disappointment and indifference.
'How could he possibly know if he loved Harry when his personal experience with this emotion was exceedingly paltry?' Draco brooded.
But he did know that each time he saw the light in Harry's eyes die a little, his own heart broke a little. Each time Harry reached out to touch Draco, only to withdraw at the last moment, brought about a wave of frustration that Draco could not explain.
The first time Harry said those three words to him, it had been little more than a faint whisper but Draco heard it with startling clarity, overwhelmed by the sincerity those simple words held, Draco was more than a little scared.
Draco was not sure if Harry expected his verbal dictation to be returned, because Draco knew he could not.
Yet as the days passed and the niggling voice at the back of his mind grew louder while Harry grew quieter, Draco wondered whether he had made a big mistake by keeping silent.
"Could not or would not?"
Abruptly, as though a beam of realization had struck him, Draco saw the answer perspicuously. He had let the fear of an unknown rule him.
There would certainly never be a guarantee of a happy ending but how was he to know if he never tried.
Draco knew he had to take the step that Harry was waiting for him to take, but perhaps a greater part of him knew Harry would not wait forever.
Perchance with each step, it would bring them closer to the tomorrow they were both hoping to achieve.
Yes, there would always be obstacles, but since when had a Malfoy allowed petty little difficulties to stop them, especially now when the stakes were so much higher and the reward priceless.
Turning around, the cold December air whipping his charcoal grey coat, Draco strode back into the coolly lit lobby with a determination he had not felt for long time.
Jamming the button for the penthouse suite with a compelling urgency, Draco waited impatiently for the lift doors to close. Why Harry chose to reside among Muggles, Draco would never know, but if it were another one of Harry's quirks, he would gladly accept it.
Standing in front of the twin ivory oak doors a wave of trepidation washed over Draco. Taking a deep breath to calm his rioting nerves, Draco crushed his anxiety with a swift turn of the silver coloured key Harry had given him a few months back.
Treading the dimly lit apartment cautiously, Draco heard the sprinkle of water coming from Harry's master bedroom toilet. Pushing the burnished oak door gently, the sight of Harry standing under the jet stream received Draco, head bowed, his hair in wet tendrils hanging limply around his face.
Draco could not stop the waves of emotion from assaulting him, concern, guilt, and sorrow. Harry's entire countenance screamed defeat and heartache and because Draco knew he was the cause of Harry's misery, the guilt and dolour he felt increased tenfold.
Casting away his doubts and worries for the future, Draco stepped into the shower, uncaring that the water would ruin his finely tailored Italian suit, and wrapped his arms around his lover, and if Draco were a little more honest, his love.
"I'll stay for today." Draco murmured in a low husky baritone.
Draco could not promise tomorrow, but as a wet bedraggled, sobbing Harry clung onto him as though Draco were his saving grace, Draco was glad he decided to stay for today regardless of what tomorrow may bring.