Hello world, I thought I'd drop this piece of work. xO First off, it's EXTREMELY AU. As in no magic, Hogwarts, and the books are completely disregarded. Basically what you have is Harry, Draco, and that's about it. Oh, but please note that Draco is about six years older than Harry in this universe. In the beginning of the story Harry is eleven, Draco is seventeen. And well..since you know Harry's age for all the other sections you can do the math to find out how old Draco is ^_^.

Setting: Northern England (even thought its unspecified), sometime in the 1800's.

The title has nothing to do with the song of the same name...at least I think it doesn't.

And on a final note, this piece was heavily inspired by Rasengan22's Naruto fanfic, entitled 'Everything Comes Full Circle'. Give all amazingness credit to her/him!

Disclaimer-I don't own Harry and Draco..but who doesn't know that? Also, the first part of my summary is a quote by -go figure.

That is the longest commentary I've ever made...phew! Onto the story...

Bittersweet Symphony


In the cities of the north there once lived a little boy who had no father. Not that he was the only fatherless child- no, he just liked to think so. It, along with the poverty he lived in, gave him a reason to pity himself. It was the perfect excuse he could use for any of his shortcomings.

How come you don't know how to fish?

I haven't the resources to get myself a fishing rod.

Why don't you concentrate in your studies?

My father isn't around to put me on the right path, and my mother needs to work.

Maybe even at that age, deep down inside, the little boy already knew those were only excuses. He could have swallowed his pride and borrowed a fishing rod from his haughty classmates. He could have been more determined to succeed in academics. But every time the boy reached the conclusion that his mistakes were his own fault, he felt such a feeling of desperation and agony that he would choke. It was like he was drowning, he thought. He didn't know how else to explain it. He didn't know much else, to be perfectly honest.

He lived in a tiny old apartment on the worst side of town. His mother worked at a textile factory all day to be able to pay the rent and afford basic necessities. The little boy had never traveled beyond his city's edge since his mother hadn't the money or the time. He told himself that he understood. It was for the best.

Every day when returning home from school, the boy had to walk across several middle-class districts before he reached his own. His own district could not afford to run a school, see. But for some reason his mother had been adamant that he should learn to the best of his abilities.

Needless to say, he didn't quite fit in with the rest of the children. His clothes were dirty and old and completely out-of-style. His books and notebooks were a bit more tattered than those of his classmates, and he never invited anyone over to his home. Other students could tell, of course, that he lived quite the impoverished lifestyle. They didn't want to be close with him. To them, it was almost as if he were of a different world. The boy would have never expected that anyone of a higher class would be willing to approach him.

Every day after school, the boy would walk home by himself. And every day he would pass by an ornate little candy shop. For some reason, the candy shop seemed to glow with a certain kind of brightness compared to its surrounding buildings. The candy in the shop's window would change from day to day-the boy had seen everything from toffees to pink mints, yellow lollipops to licorice. He had never tasted a piece of candy before, but to make it easier on himself he simply pretended that he didn't like candy.

One day, while staring at the shop's window, he heard a voice speak up behind him.

"Well, aren't you going in?"

The little boy turned around to face a teenager who looked to be quite a few years older than him.

The little boy shook his head. He was quite confused, actually. Why would an older, richer boy even bother talking to him? He was about to depart when the teenager stuck his hand out in greeting.

"Hello, my name is Draco. What's yours?" The older boy said, smiling.

"I don't like my full name much," said the little boy. It reminded him too much of his dead father. Harry James Potter. Draco shrugged.

"I won't laugh or judge you for it," he responded, and stood waiting for an answer.

"Harry," the little boy said after a few moments, "Call me Harry." Draco's smile grew wider, and Harry couldn't help but to stare at his shining gray eyes.

"Well then, Harry, would you like some lemon drops? I'll buy them; it'll be my treat!"

The little boy couldn't refuse. He'd always wondered what a lemon drop tasted like, after all. And so for the first time in his life, Harry took a step into the candy shop, closely following his newfound friend Draco.

He had been late coming home. His mother was furious-normally he arrived home much before she did. And she had no guarantee as to where he'd spent his time. When he showed his mother the bag the lemon drops had been in and the sugary dust they left behind, her anger only increased tenfold. She believed that he had stolen them-he had no money, after all.

She beat him, but the little boy remained quiet and submissive. Once it was over, he simply made his way to the tiny bathroom at the end of the narrow hallway. He locked the door behind him.

Harry stared at the mirror. He'd garnered no serious damage-only a few large bruises and a little cut on his cheek. But he didn't mind, really. The bruises had gone numb already, but he could still taste the tangy, juicy lemon drops in his mouth.

Every day from that point on, Harry would linger by the candy store window. And sure enough, Draco would always show up and greet him. And every day, Draco would let Harry pick out a piece of candy to try.

All of the different flavors and tastes made the boy unexplicably happy. The flavors would transport his mind to places he had only ever heard about. A piece of natural chocolate took him to Cacao trees in the rain forests of Brazil. A strawberry-flavored gummy let him make-believe that he was standing in a strawberry field in America.

Harry grew to adore Draco just as much, if not more, than he adored the candy. Draco was patient, and always had an open ear and an open mind. When the little boy requested it, Draco would tell him tales of the cities far to the south, or of strange people that he'd met during his travels.

"I went to a city in America called New York," Draco said one day. "They have such strange mannerisms! They scream and shout when they're speaking to the person standing next to them, and aren't afraid of improper physical contact with people on the streets."

The little boy laughed. Americans were, in fact, odd people.

Weeks passed, and eventually one day Draco invited Harry over to his home. Harry was nervous and unsure- he didn't know how his mother would react. Draco simply assured him and told him not to worry.

The boy knew that he would get in trouble if his mother arrived home before he did. After the day he first met Draco, Harry had always made sure to run home straight away after munching down on his candy. He had not gotten home late ever since.

But Harry was desperately curious to see what kind of home Draco lived in. He was a middle-class citizen, after all. With some more reassurance from Draco, the boy finally relented.

The walk to the older boy's home was quite short. Or at least, it seemed that way. Draco's stories never failed to make time pass by more quickly.

They arrived at the front step of the home and Harry couldn't help but to be surprised. It was a regal, beautiful stone home that was two full stories tall. It had an intricate, colorful stain-glass window and a nicely kept patch of roses.

Harry and Draco went inside; the front door was completely unlocked. A few steps in Draco stopped walking and bent down to whisper into Harry's ear.

"We're going to have to introduce you to my father, alright?" he said quietly, and the boy could only nod. Draco knocked on a rosewood door on the right side of the hallway. A voice beckoned for him to enter. Draco took hold of the younger boy's hand and smiled reassuringly as they entered what appeared to be a study.

"Hello father," Draco greeted formally, "I would like you to meet my new friend, Harry. Harry, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy."

The boy trained his eyes onto Draco's father. Lucius glared disapprovingly at his son, and then turned to make a mildly disgusted face at Harry. Harry could feel Draco's fingers tighten against his own. Lucius remained silent.

"We'll be up in the balcony if you need us," Draco offered, finally. Not letting go of the little boy's hand, they turned and left without waiting for a response from Lucius.

Draco and Harry slowly and steadily climbed the stairs. Harry was only a little bit scared-it wasn't often that he had to maneuver up stairs, after all.

After reaching the second floor and passing through Draco's large and organized room, the boy was led to a set of large glass doors. Draco opened the doors and Harry felt a sudden rush of cold city air. The little boy curiously took a few steps out through the doorway, and realized that he was standing on a stone balcony.

The view was stunning.

Draco followed after him, and leaned against the railing to gaze at the skyline.

"The city looks lovely from here, doesn't it?" Draco commented pensively, and momentarily turned his eyes towards Harry. The little boy had to agree. It was almost like a fairytale land, he thought to himself. If he didn't know any better, he would deny that this was the same squalid city he'd known for all of his life.

The next day, Draco did not come to the candy shop. At first, Harry managed to quell his anxiousness by thinking to himself that the teenager was only a few minutes late. Eventually, those few minutes became ten, and ten minutes became twenty-five.

The boy could no longer deny that Draco was not coming. Something inside him had gone cold, but eventually he filled his mind with resolution. He would go find Draco himself!

Slowly but with a certain trace of certainty, Harry traced the path he had taken to his friend's home just yesterday. He passed by familiar landmarks- a blue bookstore, a park, and a bronze statue of a man on a horse.

Before he knew it, the boy had reached a recognizable stone home. Feeling a bit guilty for stepping foot into the property uninvited, Harry crept his way to the door. He could only hope that the door would be unlocked. He gave it a little push, and much to his relief, the door opened. He took a step inside the house and-

All of a sudden he heard a raging scream emerge from the room that he remembered to be the study. The scream had not been Draco's. It was his father shouting.

"Godammit! You WILL be betrothed to her, you little shit!" Lucius screeched, "And if you turn her down, I'm fucking disowning you, boy!"

Seth heard no response from Draco, but he did hear the sound of footsteps and of an opening door. Instinctively, the boy darted behind a chest that had been conveniently placed under the staircase. Angry, reverberating footsteps pounded as Draco's father made his way up the stairs.

For a few moments the house was entirely silent.

Finally, Harry deemed it safe to emerge from his hiding place. Quietly and quickly, he padded over to the study and peeked in hesitantly.

Draco looked like a completely different person. His light blonde hair and his clothing were in utter disarray, and he looked as if he were about to cry. He also had an unexplainably tired air about him. Even still, upon seeing Harry he forced on a shaky smile.

"Hey there," Draco said softly, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the shop." He closed his steel-colored eyes briefly.

The boy didn't know what to do. It had sounded like Draco's father was extremely angry, but when he examined Draco's form he found no cuts or bruises. It couldn't have been that bad then, he reasoned. Draco opened his eyes. And the pain, sadness and despair he could see overflowing from their molten depths nearly choked him.

Abandoning all though, he ran to embrace Draco. When the older boy's arms wound around his torso, he felt like his heart was about to explode.

He'd been selfish to assume that he was the only person in the world who led a difficult life.

The next day, Draco continued coming to the candy shop as if nothing had happened, and the boy continued to wait for him. Their lives went on steadily, but that day was always present in Harry's mind.

Harry was sixteen now. And though he continued to see Draco every day outside of the shop, something had changed between them.

Draco was much more stiff, prim and proper than he had been when he was younger. He seemed worried to be caught associating with a person like Harry- dirty, poor and of a class below his own. He no longer spun such eager tales of his adventures, and he was always mindful to keep a respectable distance between himself and the teenager. Harry detested it.

He acknowledged, however, that he had changed as well. He was no longer the shy, quiet little boy that he'd once been. He was loud, opinionated, and passionate. He wouldn't take anyone's response for things at face value- he believed nothing until he himself knew it to be true.

And for some reason, he craved seeing Draco. It seemed that he had only recently realized how beautiful his friend was. Flawless porcelain skin, uniquely colored eyes, narrow hips...Harry couldn't stop thinking about him. If he didn't see him, that familiar drowning feeling from when he was young always came back.

Draco didn't come. Harry felt like he was drowning.

On the third consecutive day of Draco's absence, Harry took things into his own hands. If Draco no longer found it important to see him, then fine! He would force Draco to see him.

He ran past the blue bookstore, ran past the park, and ran past the statue. He ran because he knew that if he didn't distract his mind, he would force himself to turn back and accept living without Draco.

He paused at the front of Draco's house and allowed himself a small smile. Well, at least he would get to see-

A feminine laugh made its way to his ears from inside the house. By looking through the stain-glass window, Harry could make out his beloved Draco's form, standing in the hallway next to the stairs. He was speaking animatedly with an impossibly beautiful woman. Another chiming laughter rang out from her lips.

The smile fell from Harry's face and suddenly he was irrationally angry.

"Dammit, Draco, Dammit! How could you do this to me?" Harry was breathing heavily. "You don't tell me you're not going to show up, and instead you spend all of your time romancing some woman you barely even know?"

Draco didn't move from his seat on the edge of his bed. His eyes were downcast.

"I don't belong to you," he muttered, "Do you think I should have to give you every single little detail of my life?"

"No," Harry's voice lowered, "but don't you trust me enough to tell me?"

Draco did not respond. The teenager took this moment to try and calm himself down a bit.

Draco spoke.

"Remember that day some years ago?" he said, but didn't wait for Harry to answer. Even he knew that the teenager would never forget it. "That woman you saw-Celia-is my betrothed, or fiancée, I should say. I'm going to get married to her in a few months."

Harry's heart stopped beating in his chest. And the drowning feeling pounded onto him in waves and in droves, and he was seeing spots, and he was gasping for breath.

"No, no, no..." he whispered, "This wasn't how things were supposed to happen...this wasn't how things were supposed to happen..." Harry's voice died and he discovered in horror that he was crying. If he'd only looked up into Draco's eyes...

And suddenly Harry's feelings were burning and roaring inside of him. He realized that this would be his only chance to explain to Draco how he felt.

"Fuck," he muttered, "Fuck." In a burst of adrenaline he jumped from his spot on the floor and grabbed Draco by the shoulders, shaking him hard. He needed to get through to him. Harry could no longer stop the words that rushed out of his mouth.

"I have no clue as to why or how, but I love you. I fucking love you. I love you. I love you." Harry released his hold on Draco's stiff shoulders and slid to the floor, his head bowed. "I love you, I always have," he whispered and then added, "And I always will." Even without looking up, the teen could tell that Draco was shocked by his confession.

The older man was quiet for a long time, and Harry made no effort to interrupt his thoughts.

"You don't know what love is," Draco whispered finally, voice breaking.

"I know what love is!" Harry countered angrily, "Don't feed me that bullshit! Why do you think, that up until these past few days, I haven't been able to fall asleep much? I'll tell you why. I'll tell you." He was becoming desperate.

"It's because my reality of seeing you every day was better than my dreams."

He had long since stopped crying, but his heartbeat was out of control and his breath came out in ragged pants.

A strangled sound escaped from Draco's lips. He was on the verge of tears.

"We can't go on like this," Draco said, "Do you have any idea that by saying such things you're only condemning yourself? Society has no place for homosexuals." The older man's voice cracked.

"Screw society!" Harry cried, "They're all just a bunch of egotistical shitheads who can't accept anything that's different from themselves!"

Draco took in a shuddering breath, and when he realized that this sort of approach wouldn't work, he tried to inject certainty into his next words.

"Don't...don't try to turn me into something I'm not. I'm not some...faggot."

Harry responded swiftly and with such confidence that Draco froze.

"You're lying."

And Draco made no move to invalidate Harry's words. The older man's shoulders began to shake and his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Draco's head was bent and his eyes remained hidden from view.

"I'm trying to do what's best for you," Draco whispered, "You just don't get it yet."

Harry's eyes lit up in rage.

"You're just trying to push me away," he said furiously, accusingly. "I'm not-" He caught sight of Draco's eyes and saw all the pain and suffering of the world.

Those broken eyes changed something in him, and he found that he hadn't the heart to protest any longer.

"Please leave," Draco begged miserably, "Please. You've done enough damage for today, Harry. Just...get out."

He did. And Harry never stopped by the candy shop again, either.

Anything sweet left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Years passed and Harry began to piece things together. Gradually, the bitter aftertaste left him and he was able to enjoy sweet things again.

When he was twenty-six, Harry married a simple, kindhearted girl from his side of town. They remained poor, but in a way Harry was content. He'd drowned for so long that he'd become numb to it, really. And he knew he needed to move on.

His wife's eyes were the same shade of gray as Draco's.

Harry was thirty-four the next time he knocked on Draco's door. The house hadn't changed much over the course of the years, he noted. Except for an extra rosebush here and there and a bit more weathering on the bricks, the house looked exactly the same. The man smiled to himself.

He knew he needed to be quick here; his wife was waiting for him back home, pregnant with his second child. Harry was, in fact, on his way to pick up his son from his first day of school. But he knew that he would end up unintentionally lingering for longer than he should.

The door opened and Harry was undeniably happy. This time, there were no angry words or half-thought accusations exchanged between the two. Draco invited him inside, but the other man declined.

Over the doorstep they talked of trivial things. Harry told of how his son loved to read; Draco commented on his wife's recent trip to Spain. Abruptly Harry remembered something.

"And...how is your father doing?" Harry questioned a bit anxiously.

"He's dead," Draco replied smoothly, with no remorse whatsoever. Harry could even hear a hint of relief in the older man's voice.

"Congratulations."

Draco grinned wryly at the brazen remark.

A comfortable silence settled over the two.

"Thank you," Harry said suddenly, "For everything that you've done for me. I understand it all now." He paused.

"If you truly love someone, you need to learn to let them go."

Well guys, how was it? This is my first HarryxDraco, and I apologize for the er..lack of sensualness that most of you were probably looking for. Anyways, a word about the title. Like I mentioned in the summary, the title has no correlation to the song by The Verves. 'Bittersweet' is a reference to the whole candy thing I have going on here. The 'Symphony' part has to do with the 'come full circle' idea in that a symphony musically begins and ends in the sort of tempo (if that's the right word for it!)-an allegro, or happy sound. A symphony typically has an allegro-adiago-menuett-allegro order.

Reviews make me happy :D *winks and nudges* See that lonely little review button? Just click on it, and drop a few words...