disclaimer: okay guys everyone knows the drill. i dont own harry, draco or anything else harry potterish, that would be the wonderful J.K. i am just playing around and will put everything back when im finished.
Catalyst
"Do you love me?"
The soft question is whispered like a plea, past swollen, red lips from a man who without a war in his past would never have uttered such a question. He turns slowly to the dark haired man lying beside him within the mass of disheveled sheets, one eyebrow raised almost confidently but a face shadowed with clouded grey eyes. It's an empty question and he knows this, but in these moments, the moments when there's no nothing but them and this, he can't stop himself from asking it.
The answer to his question stares mockingly back at him as the taller man roles out of the bed and grabs his discarded clothes from the stained floor. His quick getaway is interrupted as he tries to find his wand. He finally spies the darkened wood poking out from under the bed. Sighing at the delay he tries to not look at the veela like beauty as he leans over to pick it off the floor.
He lies still, barely covered by the sheet. There's soft pale skin showing in suggestive places. He runs him delicate fingers through his hair that lays fanned out on the pillow case. Straitening up, the green eyed man leans forward to give him a farewell kiss but he moves away from his touch, inching towards the other side of the bed. Sighing again, the boy who lived moves towards the exit of the cheap hotel and walks through the door, making sure that he leaves the required sum of money on his way out.
Later, after he arrives home he lies down next to his sleeping, hopeless wife he couldn't help but wish that he was a better person.
"Do you love me?"
The hidden tryst continues for five more sessions before he asks again.
They're in the same room but this time he's standing, looming over the dark haired man as he sits on the bed, pants around his ankles. As he stands awaiting his answer, Harry rises and swiftly pulls up his pants. He brushes past Draco as he tucks his crisp white shirt in and picks up his shoes. He's almost to the door when he repeats his question almost inaudibility. Even in his quietness, Harry can hear a slight plea, longing in his voice, that although Draco would never audibly admit too, had been present in the first question as well. Harry turns to look at his uncharacteristic vulnerable appearance before giving him the usual sack full of gallons. Draco looks deeply into his eyes, grey meeting green and two hearts slowly breaking between them
"I can't".
Three weeks later Ginny finds out.
She follows him into the master bedroom, when he comes home from the ministry. Slamming the door she runs up too him, looking directly in his face; as tears stream slowly down her cheeks.
"You're fucking someone else." It's a statement not a question.
He steps back, stunned by the statement, despite the truth behind the accusation. He can see the fury and underlying hurt in her damp blue eyes as they stare into his own green betraying ones.
"You bastard," she states before slapping him hard along the face. As her hand moves towards him, he can see the tears glistening in the light, and her cheeks all red and puffy, clashing horribly with her fiery hair.
She hastily brushes them away and with a sick feeling in her stomach, so sharp she can't breathe, she points her finger at him.
"Explain now!"
Years later Harry knows that he will look back on this moment and wish that he had never taken the option, that his Ginny had unconsciously given him. He knows he'll regret it, along with many other shameful actions that seem to shadow his very existence, but it doesn't stop him from grabbing the chance like a life line and holding on tight. He breaks down in his Ginny's arms. Words tumble form his lips creating a lie of a one night stand and meaning nothing. He hears himself say that he's sorry and a part of him wishes that he could take the words back.
Instead his wife gathers him in her arms and leads them over to lay curled around each other on their bed. It's a while after his breakdown before she speaks.
"Do you love me?"
The question sounds so different coming from her. He hears the forgiveness in her voice before he hears the words and a part of him hates her for loving him, worshiping and always forgiving.
"Yes" he whispers against her lips as he leans forward and passionately kisses her.
Later when his wife is sleeping in his arms, he wonders when he became so good a lying.
He avoids the cheap motel room and the fallen angel inside its walls for the next few months. Instead he chooses to attend his daughter's basketball games and his son's kiddy quidditch match. And each day he finds it harder.
He also starts to think about him more.
He finds that whenever he makes love to his unsuspecting wife he has to keep his eyes open. If he doesn't, he knows that his wife's shoulder length red hair will shorten and become blonde, curves will become hard muscle and their queen size bed will become a small double bed in a cheap one night motel.
He hates himself every time, but secretly wishes for that fantasy to be true.
It's another couple of months before he see's him again. He's having coffee, three blocks away from their motel, in muggle London. He's halfway through the lukewarm cappuccino when he sits down in front of him. They stare at each other for a minute before he reaches into him pocket. Draco doesn't speak as he places a small stack of coins on the table. Harry doesn't protest at his paying because he thinks that it may be his money anyway. He also doesn't protest as he grabs his hand and leads him in the direction of the motel. Unfortunately, he can't think of a reason for that.
He tries hard not think of his wife when they reach their usual room. He hates himself when he finds it isn't that hard to do, especially when he pulls the walking temptation towards him. As they fall in the direction of the bed he tries to tell himself that this is the last time. One last time and he'll be free of this addiction. One last time and he'll be able to live happily with his wife and children.
When that 'one last time' turns into six he starts to wonder when he started to live a lie. After each session he's plagued with guilt that threatens to overwhelm him but he still doesn't stop. It's a renewed deception, its addiction and his body doesn't want to stop.
He doesn't want Ginny to question his absence or plans and distracts her by attending dreaded functions held in his honor, with a smile on his face and an arm firmly stationed around her waist. And each time she leans to kiss him for the ever hungry Prophet press, he tries not to flinch.
He also doesn't want Draco to ask that empty question, the one that makes him feel even colder inside because he knows that if he does, he will answer and then this fragile glass that they are walking on will break and he'll fall.
He knows that he's not ready to give up his family, the one thing he always dreamt off since the days hidden in the dark under the stairs, but he's also not ready to give up this. It's dangerous and he fells selfish at his inability to choose, but still he makes no move to change.
So the golden boy turned tarnished man continues his life of betrayal. He keeps going back to the cheap motel. Even though each time he goes a part of him knows that he's getting closer and closer to the day when it all falls apart.
It is another two weeks before it does.
"Do you love me?"
The question is uttered in much the same fashion as when he first asked. The man sighs and closes his eyes. He can see the glass breaking in his mind's eye and prepares for the fallout.
"Yes," he whispers truthfully before rolling over and gathering his discarded clothes.
He walks to a dresser in the corner of the room. Upon it he places the normal sum of money and then with just a small moment of hesitation he places his wedding ring on top of the amount before walking out the door.
fin
thanks for reading.