For those days we felt like a mistake,
Those times when love's what you hate
The cool porcelain brushed past his cheek with a kiss of a feather before it met its untimely death against the beige wall. Harry barely flinched. His attention focused solely on the distraught blond in front of him.
"How could you? It was supposed to be the last time!"
His hair was in messy disarray, as though he had ran his fingers through it many times, a far cry from its normally impeccable state. His eyes glimmered with tears he refused to let fall.
"I'm sorry."
There really wasn't anything else Harry could say. All that could be said had already been said.
"I gave up Astoria for you," he whispered brokenly, his form crumpling.
"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, his arms moving on their own accord, circling around the now crying man.
Draco stiffened in his arms. He tried to pull away, only to be met with the unyielding cage of Harry's arms. There was nothing he could say that would not make him sound like a kicked puppy. Nothing he could say that would make a difference.
Four years.
Four years, he had waited for Harry to leave Ginny. The promise Harry had given him months after their affair became something more. But with each child, first James and the news that Ginny was pregnant with another baby, Draco's hope dwindled like a dying candle flame.
How much longer?
This was a mistake.
His mind echoed the long forgotten statement. The very words he had said just moments after their first rough, hurried sex together. The same words but with a slight variation, stood at the tip of his tongue.
We are a mistake...
Draco turned and buried his face into the arms of Harry Potter. The man he hated. The man he loved. The man he just couldn't let go.
For those nights that I couldn't be there
He tossed and turned, his mind unable to shut down. His body unable to find the comfort it sought. Harry fluffed his pillow, patting and pouncing, hoping to get a better angle. He laid his head onto the soft cotton and closed his eyes.
His pillows are much softer.
Harry huffed and turned, his body hitting a smaller one.
"Harry?" Ginny's groggy voice called out, her warm body turning.
Harry stilled, his body froze before he forced himself to calm down.
"Sorry Gin. Couldn't sleep."
Harry wrapped his arms around his wife, ignoring the familiar stab he felt around her, "sorry I disturbed you, go back to sleep."
Harry ran his fingers through silky strands of hair, her quite hum of approval telling him he was doing it right. Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling against his gently.
Why are you doing this?
Harry hated nights like these. When the quiet and calm forced him to confront issues he would rather ignore.
Do you realize how many people are going to be hurt as a result of your actions?
Harry closed his eyes. His arms cradling the woman, his wife, like a newborn baby. Ginny had always been somewhat like a baby to Harry, soft and yielding. So unlike Draco, who was hard and rigid, unwavering. Yet they were both so alike - fragile.
Harry sighed. In truth he did not know what he was doing.
Liar. You know perfectly well what you are doing.
Harry opened his eyes, the glowing moon was the first thing he saw through their bedroom window. It's ethereal light was beguiling.
You want Draco. But at the same time, you keep Ginny because she is safe.
Harry looked down at the woman in his arms. The woman he had sworn to protect and love. Suddenly the light seemed less appealing and more unforgiving. He closed his eyes, forcing his breaths to slow down, to sleep.
When did it get so hard just to relax?
"Sorry."
There are so many wars we fought
Draco winced slightly as the door slammed shut. The sound reverberated through the empty hallway. Turning away, he sighed. He was once again alone in their apartment. It seems door slamming was becoming a habit in their household. He chuckled without amusement.
"You fucking self-centered prick. I ask you to do one thing. One fucking thing Draco!" Harry had snarled, hurt mingling with the anger in his voice.
"I have already apologized. I do not see any reason to do so again," Draco replied stonily.
"It was one dinner!" Harry yelled, his eyes blazing with disbelief and fury, "And it was Molly's birthday. The least you could do was send a note saying you could not attend!"
Draco was beginning to grow impatient, his temper simmering below his cool façade. Hadn't he already explained? Hadn't he already apologized? Hadn't he sent an extremely expensive and hard to obtain birthday present? Norwegian ridgeback fucking dragon's crystallized tears! Made into bloody earrings.
What more did Harry want from him?
Besides, it was hardly appropriate for him to attend the annual Weasley gathering. Harry may have forgotten that Draco was the cause of his divorce, but Draco could never. Nor could he forget the uncomfortable weariness Molly had shot him the first time he entered the home. He couldn't forget, even if he tried. The disgusted glances her children sent him, when Harry wasn't looking seeing to that.
You'll never be welcomed there. No matter how much you try.
Draco breathed. He opened his mouth to explain one more time, trying to feed Harry some excuse about an inescapable Board meeting, but Harry cut him off.
"Do you have any idea how much of a fool I looked like?" Harry hissed, his eyes flashing. "I didn't even know you weren't attending. Again!"
So that's it. That was what Harry was truly worried about. Something inside Draco snapped. He was exhausted and hungry. He did not need is bullshit.
"Just shut the fuck up Harry," Draco ground out between gnashed teeth. "I've spent all day dealing with fools. Do not ask me to repeat the cycle."
Harry made some sort of growling noise in the back of his throat before whirling around, grabbing his well worn coat off its rack and yanked the main door open. He left without a backwards glance.
There are so many things we're not
"I'm not sorry." He spoke without guilt.
"I know."
"Look at me."
It was a statement, filled with something. Harry didn't know what.
Harry turned to face Draco, and for a second, the cool stoic mask melted into something warmer. But it was no less bitter.
"I'm not sorry," Draco repeated. It was stronger this time.
Harry inhaled, "I know," he exhaled. Before looking away.
"He deserved everything he got."
Harry didn't reply. But strong hands yanked at his shoulders, forcing him to confront the blazing grey orbs.
"He deserved the Kiss. The exile. The shame. Everything." Draco's eyes burned, the grip on Harry's shoulders tightened, digging into Harry.
"But he is your father." Harry whispered.
"Was." Draco spat the word.
"You broke your mother's heart." Harry turned his head away, the clenching grip dropped away.
Draco spoke again, his voice gentler, but still filled with the same unyielding steel.
"She'll recover."
Harry looked up at the night sky. For once, there was nothing beautiful about the view from the highest tower at Malfoy Manor.
"We're both murderers now."
His only reply was silence.
For all of the plans we made
Level 9: Legal Administration
Harry barely glanced at the heavy gold plate that hung over the archway. He had already been here too many times to need directions. Flicking his wrists, his Tagheur reading at 12, Harry hoped Robertson was on his lunch break. It's been a while since he caught up with the sarcastic solicitor.
But as Harry rounded the corner that lead to his friend's office, a shrill voice made him slow down. The sharp cry had come from Robertson's office, causing Harry to sigh. It seems lunch was not to be. Harry turned to walk away, but his ears unwittingly caught a snippet of the conversation. A conversation that sounded too familiar.
"How dare you!" The same voice screamed. It was a woman. "You have no right to fight for me for their custody."
There was no rebuttal. On the other side of the closed door, it seemed as though the woman was having an argument with herself. Harry knew better though. The man probably had nothing to say.
He had nothing to say when he was faced with the same hurling hate.
The woman continued, her voice lowered, more menacing, "You think the children would want to live with you? An adulterer? An infidel piece of scum?"
Again Harry heard no reply. He wanted to walk away. Away from a conversation that was too private. No matter how loud. But he couldn't, it was as though his legs were frozen, refusing to budge, no matter how much he wanted to run.
"Nothing to say?" she taunted, her tone filled with malicious glee.
Harry could hear the pain that underlined her vindictive cheer, only because he was looking for it. His mouth felt bitter, an acidic taste.
"We were supposed to be forever..."
Harry walked away. His appetite lost. The hurt, choked words, the soft ache that filled the sentence had hit too close to home.
Harry dug out the ring he kept in a hidden compartment in his wallet. The thin gold band with its dull almost dirty shine felt like a lead brick in-between his fingers. It was the only and last physical remnant of his failed marriage to Ginny.
We were supposed to be forever.
He thumbed the old ring, slipping it onto his ring finger. It didn't fit. The solid circle hung loosely on his thin finger.
"Forever is a long time," Harry whispered to no particular. "Too long."
For those doubts that swirl all around us
Draco stood outside the heavy oak door, itching to wring his hands in a fit of nervousness. He clenched his fists tighter.
Had he known that by accepting Smith as his client, he would be working with Potter of all people, he would have flat out refused. Regardless of how challenging or lucrative Smith would be.
Draco gripped the leather strap of his briefcase, his nails biting into his palm.
Muffled voices murmured from inside the room before a loud shout came through.
"What!"
It seems Auror Potter didn't know that Smith had employed Draco as his legal representative. Draco allowed a smirk to flit across his face.
The door swung open, revealing Kingsley and Potter. The latter sitting at his desk, his back turned towards Draco.
Draco strolled in with a cool nod towards Kingsley. He could feel his collected mask slipping into place, the anxiousness and fear melting away with natural ease.
The door clicked quietly, signaling Kingsley's departure.
"Auror Potter." He extended his hand graciously.
Potter raised a brow at the offered palm.
"Let's get down to business."
Potter's voice was cold. Professional. He never made a move to accept Draco's outstretched hand.
In that moment, for all the achievements he had made, the distances he had leaped to stand where he was today, obstacles he had crossed, for all that, in that one moment, he felt like the eleven year old who, just by being himself, had nothing to offer in return for Harry Potter's hand.
Draco dropped his hand.
For those lives that tear at the seams
"Malfoy?" Weasley yelled, disbelief hung heavy in the question.
The sound of paper slapping the glass coffee table echoed in the living room silence. Draco didn't move from his position on the bed. Unwilling to let either of the two males outside realize he was no longer asleep.
"Yes. Draco." Harry sounded tired. Resigned. As though he had the same conversation ten times over.
As though? Draco scoffed from his solitude in the dark bedroom. He had.
Ronald Weasley was not the first to question their relationship in that tone. Nor would he be the last, on both sides.
The yelling started again.
"You gave up Ginny for that worthless rodent?"
"Why?"
Draco could easily imagine the weasel's face at this point. His complexion red with fury, clashing horribly with his hair, little specks of spit flying from his mouth.
How utterly plebeian. Draco snorted.
But the image did little to ease the growing heaviness that settled in Draco heart.
The front door slammed with the force of the Weasel's anger. A sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the silence. Or was it the silence that was unnaturally loud?
Draco didn't fall back to sleep. Even when Harry shuffled into the room hours later, curling up in his corner of the bed, making no move to cuddle next to Draco.
Why indeed.
We know
We're not what we've seen
Kill.
The Dark Lord had whispered in Parseltongue to his pet snake. It was one of the words Draco recognised from his limited vocabulary of Parseltongue. A shiver ran through him. Coldness settled into his bones, a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Draco forced his eyes to continue watching as the reptile delivered bloody strike after bloody strike, in fear of the repercussions should he turn away. A single splatter of blood landed on his cheek. He fought the urge to hurl.
The victim, a young muggleborn girl, her screams died into nothing. Her hand fell limp.
"Draco," came the soft command.
Draco looked at the Dark Lord, his smile cruel.
"Banish her."
Banishment. As though the now dead girl was nothing more than an object, just another mess to clean.
Draco raised his wand and uttered the spell.
We'll have the days we break
And we'll have the scars to prove it
You will obey.
The voice was soft. Gentle almost, but it hadn't been a question.
Find me a weakness in the wards.
His body was bent low, his forehead a paper's width from the ground. His eyes memorised the lines marbling through the cold stone floor, filling his mind with any other thought, if only to forget the monster that stood in front of him.
Yes My Lord.
Draco shrugged out of his dress shirt, the stiff collar threatening to choke him. He stared in the ceiling long mirror, a streak of white skin, paler than the rest of his body, peaked from underneath the crisp shirt.
He looked back at his reflection. He had been staring in the mirror that day too.
The cold water splashed across his face, entering his eyes, stinging the delicate organ. He gripped the edge of the porcelain bowl; panic and despair bubbling and crashing within him like a roaring wave.
Doubt clawed at him like a vicious creature intent on ripping him to shred inside out. The pressure piling each day, with each desperate pleading look his father sent him.
I can't do this.
The first cry escaped his lips, bursting out like a wild animal that needed to be free. Wet little droplets quickly followed.
I never wanted this...
He looked back up, his pathetic tear streaked face stared back. But his eyes widened, the tears dried, when he realized he wasn't alone.
Potter.
He didn't know who threw the first spell or the second or the third. But he knew who threw the last.
He could feel himself losing consciousness. The heavy metallic smell filled the flooding bathroom. The sound of trickling water and splashing footsteps faded into the distance.
All he knew was pain. White hot, searing pain. The icy water bit into his skin. Hushed murmuring...
"Severus..."
A cool hand lay against his brow.
The small blessing that for a while, he could forget. Draco closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to sweep him away.
Draco dropped his hand from where it had been fingering the numb patch of skin. His eyes moved in the mirror, resting upon the dark haired man slumbering among the sheets.
At least the scars no longer hurt.
For this dance we move with each other
There ain't no other step
Than one foot
Right in front of the other
"Enough."
Whatever Harry was about to say died off at the barely restrained fury those words held. His mouth snapped shut from the o-shape it was making.
"I realise you love your children Potter. But. I do not wish to hear it."
Harry winced at the arctic chill that laden those words. He knew he had been slightly over excited about the birth of Albus Severus Potter, even saying his son's name still made him slightly giddy, but seeing Draco's expression, he obviously did not share the same joy.
And why should he? You were fucking Ginny when you were supposed to be drawing out a divorce...
Harry frowned.
"Draco. Albus is my son. I don't think it's unreasonable for me to be excited about his first birthday." His tone implicating that Draco should be more considerate.
It was like watching a snake draw itself up to full height, puffing out in its defence. Or in this case, anger.
"You selfish prick," Draco hissed, "what more do you want from me? My friends think I'm a fool. My mother gives me these disappointed looks. She thinks I've completely degraded myself to nothing but a dirty harlot."
"And yet here you are," Draco sneered, his eyes blazing, "waxing lyrical about a son that should have never happened!"
At that moment, a pin could have dropped onto the heavy carpet and the sound would have been deafening. Harry was stunned, his eyes widened at the rare display of emotion from his usually indifferent lover. Yet part of him had been expecting, even impatient, for this long overdue breakdown. He just never expected it to be so...filled with hurt.
But even then you don't agree with everything he said. No matter how true...
Harry looked at Draco a little longer. He knew he should not say anything to contradict the blond but…
"Albus is not a mistake."
"What?"
Harry repeated, firmer this time. "Albus is not a mistake."
He knew he shouldn't have pushed it.
Draco's eyes hardened into shards of ice. His face was blank as he stood.
"Owl me when you've made up your mind Harry."
Harry swallowed. Draco's voice had been cool and indifferent. But the steel and hurt flashing through his eyes told Harry he'd better make up his mind fast.
"I'm sorry," Harry grabbed a hold of Draco's hand preventing the blond from leaving, "but he is my son."
Draco whirled around, lashing out, "then what am I? A convenient fuck? A little experiment you never had to chance to try in your teens? Your dirty little secret?"
Harry opened his mouth to deny, but Draco cut him short. The bitterness in his tone weighed heavily.
"An escape from a reality you never really wanted?"
This time, Harry stood as well.
"No."
Draco merely scoffed, "Please Harry. Lie to yourself but don't bother lying to me. Ginny Weasley always was and always will be, you little security blanket."
Harry looked away.
He missed the way Draco's shoulders slumped, the way Draco's eyes dimmed, the fire beneath them disappearing.
"I see you have nothing to say," Draco's voice was tired, as though all the fight had left him. "I've had enough Harry."
Harry's head shot up, his eyes widening in panic as they stared into defeated grey eyes.
"Five years is a long time to wait for someone. Especially when the risks are so high."
Draco's eyes held an overwhelming sorrow as he stared into Harry's, but his back was ramrod straight as he walked out of the hotel room.
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin on
It was like a scene from a muggle movie, where everything slowly wound down till it came to a frozen silence, before it all came crashing back down and the moment was broken.
"Draco?"
Astoria called out Draco's name, placing a hand on her shoulder. And just like that, in a split second, the world came back up to speed and the moment was lost.
He looked at her big blue eyes, full of guile and yet…so completely innocent. Draco knew in that moment, he could never hope to love Astoria as much as she deserved, no matter how many years were to pass.
"Darling?"
Draco smiled charmingly, "Sorry Astoria, I think I spotted some friends back from school. Why don't you apparate back to the Manor first?"
Her eyes flickered to the man standing diagonal to Draco's right, a few paces behind them, slouching against the brick wall. Her hand dropped, as her eyes grew just a little shuttered, before she returned his smile.
"Of course darling. Please pay my respects to Mr Potter." The kiss she laid on his cheek just before she apparated seemed just that slightest bit colder.
Draco stared into the empty spot, an emotion he couldn't identify churning restlessly in his gut, before he turned around, only to find Harry no longer a murky figure in the distant but standing right in front of him.
Harry's eyes, they were so much deeper than Draco remembered. His memories couldn't compare. They were like frayed, discoloured copies of the real thing. The slight crook to Harry's nose was still there, a present from his old Auror days.
"Harry," Harry's name rolled of Draco tongue familiarly, yet so achingly wrong.
Crinkles appeared around Harry's eyes, and just like that, his whole face seemed so much brighter. As though an unseen weight had been eased off his shoulders.
"Draco," he smiled warmly. But as the seconds ticked by, Draco saw the pleasure slowly dwindle as the awkwardness settled.
"How many years has it been?" Draco asked, as Harry looked up.
Potter gave another small smile but this time, there was nothing happy about it.
"20 years."
He chuckled, "No wonder you look like a crinkled paper bag Potter."
Harry gave him an indignant look, and just like that, time seemed to melt away as the world around them grew silent.
In the years that came to pass, as Draco's body succumbed to time, his mind retaining a smatter of the strength it once had, he relived the memories once more. That memory stood out in his mind, for it was the last time he saw Harry.
"I hope you're happy Draco." Harry had looked at him then. Truly looked, and allowed Draco to see the regret and pain he had carried with him for twenty years.
Draco shook his head, "Don't do that Harry. Don't carry that burden anymore."
He reached out and brushed away a tear, "No more tears. I've spilled enough on my own to last a life time."
Harry gave him a watery smile, "I'm sorry."
Draco looked at the man whom he had given half his life. The man that had carved a hole into his heart and would never leave. Sometimes Draco wondered if Harry was a lesson, or gift. He knew then. Harry had been both.
"Don't be sorry Harry. Feel anything for me but sorrow."
As Draco hugged Harry goodbye, he whispered the question back, "Are you happy?"
As Harry replied, Draco allowed the clear honesty in the simple words wash over him.
"I am."
A single tear rolled down the pasty worn skin, as the body took its last breath.
The woman clutched the limp hand as she wailed her soulful cries. The son stood strong and proud, just as his father would have wanted. But even he could not stop the tears that streamed down his youthful countenance. They were mourning for the soul that departed, but they shouldn't.
Draco Malfoy had loved and been loved.