"An Old Romance"
Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter [Drarry]
Fanfic © Hikikomori/BeautifulBakura 11th of October 2011.
Inspired by the Harry Potter books © J.K. Rowling
Lyrics from the song Someone Like You © Adele
Only a select few know about the romance between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter – the boy who made all the wrong choices and the boy who lived; who would've thought?
But through their years in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry they experienced a love that shouldn't really be explained with words; too many complex emotions for this story that you're about to be told.
Draco and Harry had to abandon their romance all because of the Dark Lord – they couldn't keep the love burning no matter how hard they tried – the forces of evil and whatnot made passion a rather impossible thing.
Without them realising it, the years had passed and all of a sudden Draco were attending Harry's wedding with Ginny Weasley and a few months after Draco were married to Astoria Greengrass. You could say that they lived happily ever after – Ginny gave birth to James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna while the Malfoy family were blessed with a son by the name of Scorpius Hyperion.
But in this story, love isn't easily forgotten and no matter how high Ginny and Astoria were worshiped, no matter how many flowers and intimate nights they shared with their husbands, they always felt that something important were missing. Their husbands were well acquainted with each other and Albus and Scorpius soon became great friends. Ginny and Astoria shared a simple and polite companionship but were very much united in their love for their husbands.
You will now get to witness an old romance blossoming yet again – how feelings become something excruciatingly foreign and the immortality of strong bonds.
A common occurrence in the Potter family was to invite the Malfoy's to dinner.
The adults would chat about this and that – the important issues that were only meant for grown ears – and the children would go upstairs – play with harmless magical tricks and made a lot of noise – happily playing, talking like teenagers usually do: of embarrassing subjects that would bring tears of laughter to their eyes.
One evening, Draco and Harry were standing alone in the hallway; putting up a front of the caring fathers; the oh, so intelligent men.
Despite years of hardship and many long hours of tough aging – mental and physical – both men had remained as handsome and stunningly, uniquely beautiful as ever.
Draco with his striking, platinum blonde, almost white hair, Harry with his chaotic, rough brown. Draco with cold silver in his eyes, Harry a marble green.
These eyes had a long time ago gazed into each other – deep, warm, loving and passionately electric. Nowadays they had been forced to linger at their wifes – because a man couldn't possibly have eyes for another man.
Neither Harry or Draco had told Ginny and Astoria about their old romance – that would devastate the female-male relationship. The love the men had had for each other weren't lost – it was only thoroughly suppressed; hidden and bottled up; now only a dull feeling that had become very hard to deal with.
"Same time tomorrow night?" Draco asked in his cold voice; that icy exterior well established.
"That is up to my wife, but yes, I'd say so. Albus is always looking forward to meeting Scorpius." Harry said softly, trying a tentative smile.
"I'm glad." Draco answered abruptly, looking down at the floor; his shiny, black leather shoes well taken cared of.
The silence crept through the room and their souls, as Harry placed a strong hand on Draco's shoulder – to an outsider it would look like a completely normal and polite gesture but to Draco and Harry it meant a great deal more.
Draco suppressed a sigh and the need to rest his forehead on Harry's chest – he looked troubled, pained and almost a little sad.
Harry smiled, stroked the bony spot and gripped the shoulder more firmly as he said goodbye – promising to return the next evening as planned.
That night Draco were deep in thought, never once averting his gaze from the bedroom ceiling.
Astoria touched him softly, worryingly on his cheek – his facial features not reacting at all.
"Draco dear... You seem troubled tonight. More then usual. Anything you need to get off your chest?"
He sighed and closed his eyes as he spoke:
"I have a lot on my mind. It's nothing for you to worry about though. I'll... sleep it off." He turned away from her, laying on his side.
Astoria drew a deep breath, concerned and suspicious.
"It's been weeks since we last made love... Are you sure there's nothing wrong? ...You used to be so adamant on always expressing your love for me through sex. A lot going on at work, perhaps?"
Draco snorted. "I'm just tired. That is all." He left it at that; trying desperately to block out the ongoing sexual and romantice impulses and fantasies he had about Harry. Only Harry, never Astoria – he would have to think of him in order to maintain his erection; his wife didn't have the same appeal anymore, whatsoever. She only seemed to blame Draco's work for his inability of 'proper lovemaking'.
An hour or so passed and suddenly his wife begane sobbing.
She creid about the fact of being less loved, she screamed and mourned internally for the husband she was losing.
She got on top of him, gripped his shoulders and shook him violently.
"Why can't things return to the way it was? Why have you become so god damned distant? Are you not the man I married?" Her tears landed on Draco's cold face – he didn't even flinch.
She rested her forehead on his and after a while she seemed to come to her senses. The crying stopped and she climbed off of him, a face that now only slightly resembled that of her husband.
"Fine, be that way..." A short pause. "Tomorrow morning I'll take a short trip with our son. I'm sick of seeing you like this and I sure as hell don't wish for Scorpius to be affected by that cold and distant mood of yours. We'll probably spend the night at a bed and breakfast... I'll stay in touch. Probably."
She heaves a struggling breath and moves to her corner of the bed, drying away her tears with the hem of her flanel shirt before making herself comfortable; drifting off into a troublesome, restless and angry sleep.
That night, Draco didn't sleep. He couldn't possibly. It's not that the words Astoria said didn't affect him – they did – but he had forgot what it was like to feel something that was remotely love-like. He was only tired, oh, so tired; angry and fed up that he only loved her as the mother of his son – not as a lover, wife or bestfriend.
At another distant corner in the same town, Harry too couldn't sleep. He had also had a fight with his wife; concerning how remote he had been, how completely void of emotion he felt as he and Ginny had attempted to make love – ending up with her crying and begging him to tell her what in the hell it was that was wrong.
He had tried to talk to her; soothingly stroking her back – promising that nothing was wrong, assuring her that the morning after this and all the days that followed would indeed be different – he could not yet tell her what was on his mind, he wasn't entirely sure on why the love for his wife wasn't the same anymore – because he had made sure that whatever old romance that lingered on had died and so, he focused on raising his children and giving them, and his wife, all the affection in the world.
The words rang false though, and the tight feeling of his chest and throat left a gaping wound where his mind and hearts were suppose to be. Ginny told him that she planned on staying overnight with her business colleagues – despite the fact that she a few days ago had expressed a need to stay at home. The children had already made plans to go to a friend's house, spending the night.
Harry didn't object, the energy was simply not there – and so, they both went to bed, silently hating themselves and the world for being all too cruel.
The next day Draco was alone. Harry was alone. Their houses felt like cages and the rooms a ghostly empty reminder; it mirrored the anguish they were feeling.
Draco needed his Harry and Harry his Draco – but they both knew that meeting up and being alone together would only tear up old wounds and leave new, aching scars.
But then, something shattered – as the night came Draco acted entirely on impulse and were out the door quicker than en eye could blink – his hair messed up and his shirt and jeans untidy and uncoordinated in both texture and colour.
Harry was sitting, legs stretched out on the ground, back pushed up against the side of the bed; his shirt unbottoned and his silktrousers untied – he had never believed that it was possible to feel this drained.
A sudden and sharp noise woke him from his zombified state and he looked up to see tiny pebbles hitting the bedroom window. He got up, excruciatingly slow and opened it – to see his old romance standing outside in the freezing autumn cold, with nothing but a thin shirt, ragged jeans and no socks in worn sneakers – with no more to aid him in his singing but magical notes playing in the air in front of him.
The song was the only one Harry had ever heard coming out of his mouth – Draco normally never sung, but would sing this tune after everytime he and Harry made love instead of the usual raw sex – he would sing it, if and when they had romantice dinners and after they had been separated from each other for more then three days; to show just how much Draco had missed his Harry.
Harry broke down crying on the windowsill – Draco cried too, but not once did his voice break as he sung the words that would forever resonate deeply in both their hearts.
I heard that you're settled down.
That you found a girl and you're married now.
I heard that your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you.
Old friend, why are you so shy?
It ain't like you to hold back or hide from the lie.
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I hoped you'd see my face & that you'd be reminded,
That for me, it isn't over.
Nevermind, I'll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you too.
Don't forget me, I beg, I remember you said:
"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead"
Draco had to stop there, because the crying was getting the best of him. "Harry." He voiced softly, seeking eyecontact. Harry, too distressed to give it to him, simply answered, through his sobs, with Draco's name. It rung so clear in his mind that he finally understood that he could never love his wife the way he loved Draco – after this night he would not be able to look back.
"Draco, please don't do this to us." He cried, looking at his love with desperate eyes, his mouth quivering.
"All I ask for is one kiss. That is all. After that we'll go back to how everyhing used to be with our wifes and children. I'll say goodbye to this love and never revisit it again. All I need is that one kiss."
Harry grew silent, hearing this from Draco. The crying changed into an aching want, an animalistic need for the love he once lost and that now had been brought back to him.
"I... I can't do that. I can't let myself fall in love with you again."
"From the look of it, I'd guess that you're alone in this house, just like I have been in mine." Draco exhaled sharply, biting his lip in anger.
"My wife and I had a fight last night. She could tell how distant I was and... that..." Harry had to calm himself down by tightly gripping the windowsill. "... That I didn't love her like I used to."
Draco then told him about his own fight and how broken Astoria had became – after a few minutes of quiet discussion he was let in into the house and warmly embraced by Harry.
They stood like that for what seemd like an eternity; not needing to say anything – because they both understood now where their love had chosen to reside itself in – all it took was that rough embrace and one look at each other to know the true meaning of longing and the words 'to miss'.
"One kiss." Draco breathed hotly against Harry's shattered face.
"Just one-" He couldn't finish his sentense – as Draco was already pressing his lips onto Harry's – the longing ache exploded and in flooded all the deep, forbidden emotions they so desperately had tried to hide and forget about.
Saliva mixed itself with tears – hands tugging, gripping and stroking at the clothes that was in the way of them getting a change to feel skin against skin.
They had already forgot about the restricted single kiss, and begane to pull and stretch the fabric – Draco pressed Harry up against the hallway wall and pushed a wet finger inside of him, unforgivingly stretching the tense and long forgotten muscles. Harry closed his eyes and moved into the brutal touch, not once letting go of his gaze into Draco eyes. He was quickly turned around, legs wide apart and a throbbing limb against his entrance – he swallowed Draco whole like it was as easy and natural as breathing.
Blindly and passionately, Draco moved in and out of Harry – soft moans mized with guttural grunts. It didn't look pretty at all. In fact, it looked horribly embarrassing. But they couldn't care less – right now this was what they needed to ease their pain and once again express their unwavering love and lust that they had for each other.
"I can never feel like this with anyone else. No matter how bloody hard I try, it's not real... they're only emotions that I fake." Draco moaned sharply and came inside of Harry – his Harry – muscles tensing and relaxing in gorgeous spasms.
Harry shook – a hand curled around himself – emptying his seed in his fist, his chest convulsing and tightening up.
They slumped down on the wooden floor, holding on for dear life to whatever they could reach.
Eventually Harry turned around and got held by Draco – so hard that is almost got difficult to breathe.
"What happened to us?"
Draco asked as he reluctantly eased the force of his embrace.
"We lost each other somewhere along the way. I think."
Harry kissed Draco softly on his lips, sighing. "I don't think that... if... I'll ever be able to let you go. Ever again." Draco said, his arms shaking as he held his Harry.
"We're not young anymore. We can't have what we want... I won't be allowed to see my children if I admit to Ginny that I love you instead of her." Harry swallowed roughly as he tried not to start crying again. Draco didn't say a word.
Suddenly, he got up on his feet, leaving Harry on the floor with a confused look on his face. He got dressed were he laid and searched frantically for Draco's eyes. But Draco didn't seem to properly look at him; instead his cold exterior returned bit by bit.
"Draco... Please talk to me. Don't look at me like that..."
"If I can't be with you, then what meaning will life have?"
"Think about our children. They won't make it in a family that has no love." Harry stood up and cupped his hand over Draco's cheek – only to get it brushed away, his hand stingning.
"It's no use trying to convince me that life will work out without me being true to myself... me, loving you..."
Draco's face was tense and he looked as if he wanted to kill someone. Possibly himself. Or his wife.
"Either I keep my true feelings in check, bottled up as always, or tell Astoria, then sign the divorce papers and ending up with no custody of my son... Or I'll kill myself. It's so easy, if you think about it..."
"Draco, stop it." Harry begged and watched with horror in his eyes as Draco put his wand to his throat – Harry knowing all too well what hex Draco would spell out.
"... I die alone or I'll take you with me. I can't stand that you're not mine, I can't stand not being permitted to love you, but forced to show affection to a wife I care very little, to nothing about, to father a son that will forever see his old man as a failure, incapable of thinking about anyone but himself..."
"If you die, I will never get the change to make things right. We... we will figure this out, I give you my word. I swear to you that one day you and I shall finally be together-" Harry watched Draco's lips move, but if it was a deadly curse or words of forgiveness, he couldn't tell. Because at that moment in time, he felt blind, useless and frustrated – every emotion didn't quite reach his conscious side – but one thing was certain – it wasn't justified anymore to call this an old romance.
What happens next I cannot tell you. Because we all know that love is not something that can be explained. Words is not the right way – feeling are.
