A/N: Written for winterstorrm in the 2012 hd Smoochfest. I just fell in love with this prompt, and so ended up writing a second story for the fest! Many thanks to my birdsofshore for pre-reading, and to evilgiraffe82 for betaing.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Rain
The air hung, hot and heavy. Outside it came with a shimmer of hazy heat, inside with a damp closeness. Harry pulled at his collar, feeling the sweat running down the back of his neck. He had long removed his tie, as had most of the men wearing suits. Everyone was slightly flushed, and a little shiny. The room, he had to admit, looked amazing. High ceilings, tall glazed doors, gilt and of course, the vivid colours of the flowers made it a memorable sight.
"And finally, I'd just like to thank my business partner, and friend, Draco Malfoy, for letting us hold our wedding here at the beautiful Malfoy Manor," said Luna, turning and holding her glass up in a toast to Draco. "I know many of you thought I was mad—" she paused as someone said something near her, "—sorry, madder than normal," there was a polite titter, "when I chose Draco to take over as editor of The Quibbler when my father retired. But I think you'll agree that Draco has spent the past ten years giving us the outsider's voice, while remaining clever and sharp throughout." She raised her glass. "To Draco," she said, and everyone drank to Draco, who smiled and looked at her with genuine affection.
Harry drained his glass in one gulp. He loved Luna, he really did, and he wouldn't have missed her wedding for the world, but things weren't as simple now as they were ten years ago when he had got married. He looked over at her. She was radiant. She looked wild and free, her dress loose and draping, and strings of shells round her neck. She was bare-foot. Seeing her so carefree and happy in the middle of Malfoy Manor was bizarre, but then no more so than her friendship with Draco. His eyes turned to Draco of their own accord. He was still beautiful – in fact, he had grown well into his face. Time had softened his angles, and he had gained an adult solidity which gave him a look of strength rather than sharpness. It still hurt though, to look at him, and Harry looked away. He had managed to get through this much of the wedding, he could get through the rest.
The speeches over, tables were cleared at one end and a band set up. It was time for music and dancing, although in this heat Harry just felt like wilting, not making merry with his feet. Still, he stood and watched, as whirling through the grand space, her smile out-shining everything else in the room, Luna danced on her new husband's arm. Rolf was a lucky man, and so much better suited to her than Neville had ever been. Harry couldn't help but think how things might have turned out if he, too, had waited a few years before getting married.
Harry found a seat at the edge of the room. Keeping up the polite smiles was getting more difficult as the heat slowly stripped him of the desire to make small talk or answer awkward questions with grace. He hoped he could snatch a few minutes of peace and quiet before having to provide anyone else with an anecdote about how they once met Harry Potter at a wedding. He closed his eyes and listened to the noises of the room: loud chatter, music, the fizz of champagne being poured, dancing. It was too soon when the gentle brush of a hand on his shoulders forced him to open his eyes. He knew without looking that it was Ginny. He sighed as she sat down next to him. Harry had caught sight of her, a couple of times during the day, but had managed to avoid actually talking to her so far.
"Where's Michael?" he growled. Ginny fixed him with one of her harder looks. He knew it well – it had topped her repertoire by the end of their marriage.
"Getting me a drink, actually. Look Harry, it's just too hot today, ok?" She sounded tired rather than annoyed, as she stretched her legs and closed her eyes. Actually, Harry agreed with her, whole-heartedly. And he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on, when it came to his being grouchy with her and her boyfriend. He took another sip of champagne.
"Ok, and maybe it is time for me to grow up a bit," he said. She raised an eyebrow.
"You think? Harry–" but before she could continue, Michael arrived back with a large glass of icy water. She turned to him, a wide, beautiful smile on her face. Harry sighed.
He wasn't even upset that they weren't together anymore, not really. Finally admitting to himself that he was gay had finished off the whole marriage thing, in the end. He didn't mind that she'd moved on, either. It was more that when he saw her he'd get a glimpse of what his life might have been, in some parallel universe perhaps. And deep down he knew how much he'd hurt her, how rejected she'd felt. Seeing her with Michael didn't help because he suspected that Michael wasn't as good a match for her as Harry. Or as a straight Harry would have been. He just wanted her to be happy. It was confusing and messy and this heat didn't help, not one bit.
They sat together in silence for a while. Even sitting doing nothing, Harry could still feel the sweat collect and roll down his skin. The champagne was doing strange things to his head, and he eyed Ginny's water. It looked good. There was a lot of ice, and condensation on the outside. He swallowed.
"So, Harry, did Ginny tell you?" asked Michael. Harry turned to face them both.
"No, tell me what?" he asked, as Ginny scowled and elbowed Michael. Harry suppressed a smile. Michael was in trouble, he could tell.
"I was going to tell you, Harry, just not at the middle of Luna's wedding. But I guess this is as good a time as any," she reached out and held Michael's hand. Suddenly Harry was scared of whatever it was she had to say. This sounded... serious. He looked between them in panic. "Michael's moving in," she said, quietly. Harry froze. It wasn't marriage or a pregnancy – the first two things to come to mind – but it was a big change.
"I–" Harry blinked, "I'm very happy for you both," he managed, in the end. He needed to escape, and fast.
"Thank you, Harry," she said, sad and understanding all at once. To Harry it sounded a little like pity.
He stood up. "I'll just go..." he said, gesturing in the direction of the drinks. He walked off, leaving them with their heads bent together. The room blurred slightly as he made his way through it, people bumping off his shoulders and sides. He didn't stop until he reached the tall iced jugs of water. He poured himself a large glass and took a long sip. The iced water slipped down his throat, soothing a path of cool as it went. He focused on the sensation, then looked for somewhere to sit, again. He collapsed into a chair at a table in the corner, and held his glass to his head. The chill almost hurt, but it felt good. He shut his eyes. He should have seen this coming. It was... it was none of his business, really, but it touched the ache inside of him when he thought of his old home, the future he thought he'd have, without him in it. With someone else there, instead. He sat, willing the room and his head still.
It took a while, but his mind calmed, the ache inside of him just making room for this latest change. He had learnt how impossible it was to halt change – he just had to accept it. He opened his eyes. Now Luna was dancing with Draco. They looked relaxed and happy together, and Harry wasn't the only one holding his breath as Draco led Luna through an energetic dance. He owned the space, moving with confidence and grace. She clung on, giggling and trusting. When his long arms dipped Luna dramatically a laugh bubbled out of her and Draco smiled wickedly, his eyes twinkling. Harry was transfixed by the sight. This was, of course, one of the reasons his ex-wife was sitting on the other side of the room holding hands with a short mousy-haired man. He watched until the dance was over, and Draco bowed low and kissed Luna's hand. Some things in life changed, but this... fascination of his had stayed the same for years now.
"Harry," he heard, and he turned to see who had spoken. Hermione had sat down beside him. He hadn't noticed. She looked uncomfortable. His eyes were drawn to her large bump, as she rubbed her hand along it. "This baby is not making the heat any easier to bear," she complained. Harry automatically slid the water towards her. She smiled in gratitude and took a long drink. "Oh, that's better, thank you, Harry," and he smiled back at her. She'd gained a softer look with pregnancy. It suited her. She looked tired though.
"Where's Ron?" he asked. He only seemed capable of asking one question, about people's location, today. She nodded over to a crowd of serious looking people.
"Hobnobbing with the bigwigs, of course," and Harry shook his head, even as she did. They laughed. Hobnobbing didn't come naturally to Ron, but he loved doing it. He always looked slightly out of his depth. He just seemed too honest for it. That said, his career was going well and Harry suspected that Ron was better at it than he appeared.
His eyes sought out Draco, again. Seeing Draco was always so complicated. He had watched him for years, of course, but it was only after the war that things had begun to change. One of his first assignments in his early 'training on the job' Auror days had been to root out Avery and the other Death Eaters who had fled Hogwarts. Draco had been his reluctant assistant, there to share his knowledge of his father's friends: the knowledge which was helping to keep him out of Azkaban. They had fought, bickered, talked and in the end, found an uneasy truce. Harry got to know Draco during the following month. Cold nights watching desolate buildings had forced them to get to know each other, for Malfoy to become Draco. And Harry had discovered that Draco was still annoying, but also clever, quick, and actually very funny. It was only when the Death Eaters were captured and Draco was no longer his daily companion that Harry found himself missing him, wishing he could talk to Draco. But he was so busy, somehow cramming in his training with already working as an Auror (it had seemed a good idea at the time) that he had no time to pursue new friendships. Instead he fell back on the old ones. And Ginny.
Draco was laughing and drinking champagne with Pansy Parkinson. Harry felt an ugly knot build inside. It was all wrong. Seeing him here, it was too much. Too many memories were coming back to the surface. Mostly he wanted to be the one standing there, talking to Draco. He remembered the way Draco would sometimes laugh at his own jokes, infectious and self-deprecating all at once. Or the way he would look in unguarded moments, peaceful, just himself. Blond eyelashes. Pink cheeks. He blinked the images away.
It had been another wedding – his own, unfortunately enough – when Harry had seen Draco again. Draco had come as Luna's guest, and Harry had been genuinely pleased to see him. They had spoken, politely, in the bustle of guests and family at the reception. Late in the evening, merry from champagne and high on life, Harry had taken a break from dancing with Ginny and had gone the bathroom. As he was leaving the room, he had bumped into Draco. Something about feeling the hard, lean body pressed into his had launched a strange set of feelings deep within Harry. First was the wonderful rightness of being pressed up against another man, followed swiftly with the smell of Draco and the way it made his head spin. Finally, a little switch had been thrown which clicked every thought he'd ever had about Draco and put it into a new place. One which wanted to spend more time with him. Harry had backed away, mumbled an apology, and rushed outside. In the cool clear air of the evening, he had breathed deep and calmed down. When he reappeared by Ginny's side, he pulled her up into an enthusiastic kiss and then another dance.
He had focused on his marriage, but sometimes found himself thinking about pale hair, clever humour, the heat from a firm body with sharp edges. When he saw Draco again at one of Luna's parties, some Ministry function or even by chance in Flourish & Blotts, they never exchanged more than meaningless pleasantries. Each encounter, though, left Harry flustered and strangely low for days. It had taken years to connect the dots. When he and Ginny had separated, there were many reasons, but one was the unavoidable knowledge that it was men – not women, not his wife – that his body yearned for. It had taken Harry longer, and a lingering dissatisfaction with the men he met, to realise that it wasn't just that Draco was a man. Draco was the one man he wanted to be with. No one else matched up to him.
He sighed. Hermione looked up and followed his line of sight.
"Ah, Draco again, Harry?" Harry nodded miserably. "You do know that you're going to have to talk to him, one of these days, don't you?"
"No," said Harry, "I don't. He's already made it clear how he feels. I just– I–" he ran a hand through his hair. It was damp with sweat. "Let's talk about something else. Are you and Ron excited?" he asked, nodding her bump.
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Why does everyone ask us that?" she muttered.
"Oh, sorry," said Harry. He always managed to say the wrong thing.
"No, no, don't worry. Everyone asks me that, but I don't know. Of course I'm excited, we both are," she turned the glass in her hands, staring at the water sloshing around. "It's just such a huge change, Harry. I don't know what it will be like, or how we'll be as parents. I'm a little scared, to be honest."
Harry reached out and took one of her hands, now ice-chilled. His own were hot and sweaty, but then everyone was sweating in the heat so he hoped it wouldn't matter. He looked her straight in the eye. "You are going to be a fantastic mum, Hermione. Ron will be a great dad. This little one," he said, looking down at her bump, "will be one lucky baby." She smiled at him.
"Thanks, Harry," Hermione whispered. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They sat and watched the dancing for a while. Ron came to join them, and managed to persuade Hermione to dance with him. Harry sat back and watched his two oldest friends make slow circles across the floor, arms around each other and utterly in love. They rarely showed how strongly they cared about each other in public – a hangover of all those years of skirting around the issue at school perhaps – but today, they fairly shone with it. Harry swallowed back a lump in his throat. They were everything he hadn't managed to be with Ginny. They were happy together, meant for each other. And about to become parents. His thoughts darkened. Maybe things would have been different if he and Ginny had been able to have a baby. But then his eyes alighted on Draco again, and he knew it would just have made everything so much harder. He didn't know if he would have been able to leave a child of his. His mood soured, Harry got up and went in search of a drink.
A whisky in hand, with plenty of ice clinking in the glass, Harry made his way outside. For a second it felt a little fresher, but then the heavy air and humidity of the evening ended that illusion. The sinking sun didn't help either, still relentless and bright, even as it moved lower in the sky. Harry squinted into it. He needed someplace to go where no one would sit next to him and chat. He just wanted to enjoy his drink in peace. He spied a bench off at the end of the rose garden. It was empty, perhaps because most people had avoided sitting anywhere so exposed earlier. It was still in a patch of bright light, but he didn't care. He made his way over to it without anyone stopping to speak to him, which improved his mood slightly. The stone of the bench was warm from a day's worth of sun, as were the worn bricks of the wall behind. Harry leant into the heat, and it was soothing, even in the still heat of the dying day. He felt drained, and shut his eyes to the world.
The old feelings were coursing through him. The yearning for Draco. It had been years now, and he thought they would have lessened over time, but no, it was still as strong as ever. In his mind, he called it love, but never out loud. He remembered every moment so clearly: the ones when he was eighteen and learning to like Draco despite his old prejudices; the ones when he was twenty and in love with someone else; and the ones from later, when he tried to approach Draco. He didn't need a pensieve to watch them, to see every detail.
He had finally worked up the courage to speak to Draco, at one of their chance meetings. He wasn't with Ginny any more, and he was sure Draco must have felt something too, things were always so strange between them now when they met at functions and friends' houses. Not hostile like their youth, nor friendly either. More... uncomfortable. Harry was at the Manor to visit Luna at the new Quibbler offices based there. When he arrived he'd had to wait as she was off on some errand, and he found himself alone in the editor's office with Draco.
Draco was perched on the edge of the large desk at the centre of the room. His long legs stretched out in front of him, and he looked relaxed, elegant. His hair had grown longer and swept past his face. He was reading a parchment, an arch little smile on his lips, shaking his head gently. He looked up when he heard Harry arrive.
"Oh hello, Harry, I thought it might be Luna. She is going to love this," he said, waving the parchment in the air. He laughed. "Pansy wants a job as some kind of gossip columnist, she's written this letter full of gossip. It's fabulous. And unprintable, of course," it was the most relaxed Harry had seen Draco in a long time. Perhaps because he was at work, in the one space where he was in charge. Harry liked it. He looked at Draco a little too long, until he realised he was staring and he looked away.
"Harry," said Draco, gently. Harry looked back at him. Draco was looking at him, his eyes keen yet soft. "I thought we were going to be friends, all those years ago. But..." he shrugged.
"I thought we were friends," said Harry. "I just felt a bit... awkward around you."
"Awkward?" asked Draco. "But why? I don't understand." Harry swallowed. It was now or never.
"Because I liked you, Draco," he said, and feeling emboldened by Draco's continued eye contact, he stepped forwards and ran his hand down the side of Draco's face, touching fine stubble as he did. "I liked you, Draco," he whispered. He dropped his hand to his side, and just stood there, looking at Draco, terrified and electrified, all at once.
"Oh," said Draco, and Harry felt rather than saw him back away. Something inside of him began to fold in on itself. "I, er, I didn't know, Harry," and he turned away. Harry took a step back.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," he mumbled, feeling like such a fool. He moved further away from Draco.
"No, no, it's good that you did. I'm glad that you did, it explains... It's just that–"
He was interrupted by the door opening. It was Luna, and another blonde woman who looked familiar to Harry.
"Oh, Draco, Luna's given me such a lovely tour!" she said. She ran forward until she was stood in the spot Harry had just vacated. She rested a hand on Draco's knee then leant into him and kissed him on the lips. Harry felt his cheeks begin to burn. The room tilted slightly.
"Er, Harry, this is my girlfriend, Astoria. She's Queenie's little sister," seeing the blank look on Harry's face Draco added '"Daphne Greengrass's little sister," and Harry nodded to show he'd understood, even though the words coming out of Draco's mouth were just noise. Embarrassment overcame him. He had got it so wrong. It didn't take long for him to make his excuses and leave the room. Luna followed him, and patted him kindly on the arm.
"Don't worry, Harry. Life sometimes moves in mysterious lines. You just have to move with it," Harry found no comfort in her words. She gave him the tour, and all he could think as he walked through the large spaces was that Astoria had been there first, and that there was no hope for him. He went home that night and decided to put Draco out of his mind. His attempts had obviously not been successful.
The heat of the afternoon seemed to have got worse. The air was still and oppressive, the rising pressure making Harry's head ache. He rubbed a hand across his brow, trying to massage it away, but to no avail. He shut his eyes against the glare of the sun, now low enough to shine directly at him in a way that connected painfully with the thumping in his head, and he tried to forget the bitter disappointment of that day. After a while, his thoughts slowed and became sluggish.
His head was beginning to loll forwards, drooping towards sleep, when the sound of voices made him sit up and then freeze.
"Draco," said the unmistakable low voice of Pansy, "darling, how unlike you!" and then she giggled. Her voice was coming from behind the wall. Draco's voice was smooth as he answered, "For you, anything." Harry's heart was beating loud and fast in his chest. It was nothing. It had to be nothing. He knew Draco had long since parted ways with Astoria, but he was often seen out with a beautiful witch on his arm. Pansy though, she was not just anybody. She was the girl he'd taken to the Yule ball. She was probably his first love. Harry knew he should move away, but his body had melted into the stone, he was fixed by the heat; he couldn't move.
He heard Pansy gasp, "Oh, Draco, it's beautiful. But are you sure?"
"Yes, Pans, I'm sure."
"I– I don't know what to say, I wasn't expecting this–"
"Oh, you don't fool me with your little Miss Innocent act," interrupted Draco, "you've been commenting on how beautiful my grandmother's ring is for weeks now, telling me how it would make just the perfect engagement ring for you," he paused, and Harry wanted to rip his ears off. He didn't want to be hearing this conversation. "Just take it. It's yours now. There's no other woman I'll ever love more than I love you, you know that. Take it," and Harry finally managed to wrench himself off the bench. As he stumbled away he heard the words, "and you know I love you too," and he thought he might actually be sick.
Harry got as far as the French doors, before stopping at the barest hint of a breeze. It felt cool and gentle. He gulped up the meagre supply of fresh air. The world had moved on without him. Ginny had Michael, Ron and Hermione were about to have a family of their own, and Draco had Pansy. It was all too much. He stood there, swaying. Somehow, Harry managed to stay upright. More cool air came his way, a caress across sweat-dampened skin. He shivered.
Looking up Harry saw Draco and Pansy, arm in arm, heading back towards the wedding. Back towards where he was standing. Their obvious closeness, the warmth between them, caused Harry actual physical pain, in his chest, his gut. He felt it as a deep ache. He tried to fix a smile on his face but it wouldn't move. As they drew nearer his panic increased. What if they stopped to speak to him? This was far worse than Astoria. This was love and marriage, and a grandmother's ring.
Pansy saw someone behind him, and let go of Draco's arm to run inside and then Harry heard a loud squeal of excitement. He still couldn't move, and besides, hearing her celebrations was enough – he didn't need to see them too. Draco watched her fondly, then saw Harry, who looked on in horror as he walked straight up to him. Draco was still smiling when he stopped in front of Harry.
"She's so happy," he said, nodding in the direction Pansy had gone. Harry just nodded, stiffly. It seemed safer than talking. "I've just given her my grandmother's ring. She's had her eyes on it for ages, the greedy cow," his tone a little softer than his words. "It's strange, but I needed to do this. It's my goodbye," said Draco.
"Your goodbye?" asked Harry, bewildered by Draco's words. Draco nodded.
"I'd held onto that ring for years. It was supposed to be for the woman I married."
"Yes, er, congratulations, Draco," said Harry. Draco gave him a funny look, and opened his mouth to say something, when they were interrupted by a growl from the west. A long, low rumble spread. They both turned to see the darkening skies, the heavy cloud moving in. The wind picked up now, accompanied by happy sighs as it brought fresh relief to the wedding party. The light around them was turning from sunny yellow to blue-grey. Harry could smell the zing of approaching rain.
"Harry, "Draco pulled his attention back, "I'm not the one to congratulate. Look," and he pointed inside. Harry turned, and saw Pansy attached to a dark-haired man, in a slow dance, tiptoeing up to kiss him. He couldn't see who the man was. He didn't care: it wasn't Draco.
"But I– I heard you talking," he blushed, "you said you loved her. That she was the only woman you'll love," said Harry, confusion making him blurt out this confession of eavesdropping.
"You were listening?" asked Draco.
"I overheard by accident," answered Harry. "But I don't understand."
"I love Pansy, I do," said Draco. "But perhaps like you love Hermione," he paused, and shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, they were resolute. "It's my goodbye to the dream of marrying some woman, Harry," he said. Harry just stared back at him. The grey blank of sky had closed in, and the garden was lit by a strange semi-darkness, like an eclipse. Heavy drops of rain began to fall, slow for a moment, then heavy, insistent. Harry opened his mouth in shock as the first few fell. And then a blur of movement caught his eye, as Luna rushed outside. She stood in the rain with her arms held out, her head flung back and her mouth open. Then she jumped and started spinning, round and round, and laughing. Soon Rolf joined her, twisting and twirling her in the rain. More people started to dance and jump and laugh.
Harry and Draco stood still. Harry closed his eyes against the onslaught of rain, noise, and Draco's revelation. He opened them when he felt a warm hand on his wet cheek. It was Draco. Slowly, gently, impossibly, Draco leant forward and kissed him. Rain poured off their faces, but Draco's mouth was hot, and every bit as insistent as the hand running through Harry's wet hair, or the one bunching up his soaking shirt.
"I thought about what you said, in my office that time," said Draco, his hand rising to his cheek. "I couldn't stop feeling your hand, here," he took another kiss from Harry, sweet and warm. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you," and Harry knew what he meant. He told Draco he understood by kissing him back, deep and long. The piece of himself which had folded in so many times, which had been crushed under everything else began to open, to spread through his body.
The rain fell, straight down in hard lines. It washed away the dust of summer and the languor of the heat. It took away the stuffy air and oppressive pressure of the day. Harry breathed in deep lungfuls of the cool air. Then he stood with Draco, arms tight across each other's backs and thumbs brushing across wet skin in a promise for later, watching Luna and her new husband as they danced in the rain.
-fin-