The last of my Christmas Fics. Please enjoy this somewhat angsty piece. Fair warning, not my best work.
Have a good one :)
Draco
I know it's been a while since we last spoke. Four years, to be exact. But you're the first person I thought of when they told me they were sending me home.
I'd like to see you again, if that's alright.
I understand if you're busy or can't make it, but I'll be at our spot just the same. This Friday, 3 o'clock?
I've missed you.
Harry.
A hundred thoughts ran through Draco's head as he read and re-read the note.
Harry. Harry was back. Harry was home.
A familiar ache bloomed in his heart— something tender and painfully bittersweet. He had forgotten this feeling, it had been so long. But now, faced with the prospect of seeing Harry again— Harry with his boyish grin and his warm, green eyes and that deep laugh that Draco just wanted to wrap himself up in— it was all coming back like Harry had just left yesterday.
Harry.
His first arch rival. His first friend after the War. His first kiss. The boy he had lost his virginity to one winter night in the Eighth Year Common Room.
His first in so many ways, Draco had lost count.
Of course, their little fling had come to an end, as all good things must. Right after graduation, Harry received an offer to train with Healers without Borders. He was overjoyed and Draco was happy for him. Their break-up was bittersweet— soft kisses and tear damped cheeks, hushed promises of never forgetting and wishing each other the best. Draco had seen him off at King's Cross himself, smiling through his tears and feeling like his heart was breaking in pieces as Harry left for good.
Had it really been four years?
Now Harry was back. Draco swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. Would Harry be the same, he wondered. Did he still get that mischievous glint in his eye when he did loops on a broomstick? Did he have the same cheeky grin and crooked glasses?
Had he...had he missed Draco at all?
"Okay, so how are we doing this?"
Pansy's purposeful question jerked him back to reality. Her lips were pursed and her brow was arched in a thoughtful frown as she paced. Her husband, Blaise, obligingly lifted his legs off the coffee table to give her more room.
"Doing what?" he asked.
Pansy huffed impatiently and crossed her arms. "Honestly! Doing what, he wants to know. About this Potter thing, obviously!"
Blaise shared a perplexed look with Draco and shrugged. "Yeah. Still lost, love."
Pansy looked like she was praying for patience. "How," she intoned slowly and clearly, no doubt for their benefit, "are we going to make Draco win the break-up?"
"What?" Draco asked, starting in surprise.
"Yes, what?" Blaise echoed.
"You know, win the break-up!" Pansy exclaimed. "We need to show Potter what he missed out on, make him regret ever leaving Draco at all! When Draco goes to see him, we want to make sure it tears his heart out. That sort of thing."
Draco stared at her, speechless and somewhat horrified.
"Why would he do that?" Blaise voiced his sentiments well enough, sounding rather aghast at the prospect.
"Why not?" Pansy challenged. "He's Draco's ex. He broke his heart and skipped the country! The least we can do is make sure the prat knows he made the biggest mistake of his life when..."
"No," Blaise interrupted decisively. "I meant why would Draco go see that git at all?"
Wait, what?
"What?" Draco asked, a little helplessly.
Blaise turned to him. "You want to see Potter?" he demanded incredulously. "After what he did to you?"
By now, Draco was fairly convinced that both his best friends in the world were complete nutters. "Okay," he began, watching them both with a wary eye, "let's take this one step at a time, yeah? Yes, Potter and I did have a brief fling back at Hogwarts but that's just what it was. We were two kids looking for comfort after the War and...we found each other. It was good for both of us and really, I knew it wouldn't last forever. We both did."
His friends exchanged unconvinced looks. Blaise cocked his head and Pansy nodded. Draco rolled his eyes. He hated it when they did that we-can-read-each-other's-minds-because-we're-a-couple-now thing. It was all kinds of disturbing.
"Yeah, no," Pansy spoke up finally. "You were in love with him."
Draco scoffed. "I assure you I wasn't in love with Potter."
"Yes, you were," Blaise not surprisingly, concurred with his wife. "You were mad for him and it broke your heart when he left."
Draco shifted uncomfortably. He didn't deny that the months following Potter's departure were painful. But that didn't mean he had been in love, for Salazar's sake! It was just...withdrawal. Like when you stopped eating chocolate for a while. Soon enough, he had picked himself up and dusted himself off and life went on. Just like it always did.
Potter had gone to Africa to cure sick children and Draco had worked towards his Potions apprenticeship. Their lives had turned out just fine.
"I wasn't in love with him," Draco announced firmly. "I was fond of him, yes. It's been known to happen when you're snogging someone all the time."
"That's true enough," Blaise contributed, shooting his wife a wink. She grinned and leaned in for a kiss. Draco stoically ignored them and went on with his lecture. "Anyway, it was four years ago. I'm sure we can all agree that Potter belongs in my past now. I'll always be fond of him, but we knew what we had wasn't meant to last. He had to live his dream, and I'm happy for him. And I'm happier for it, I promise."
Another series of unconvinced looks. Draco waited patiently until they had finished their latest bout of telepathic communication. He raised a questioning eyebrow when they turned to him.
"Well," Blaise relented with a sigh, "if you're sure."
"We just don't want to see you get hurt," Pansy put in. "You know you don't have to see Potter if you don't want to."
Draco considered that. Did he want to see Harry again? Well...of course he did. Harry had been a very big part of his life once. He was special, he would always be special. And just because they weren't together anymore, it didn't mean they weren't friends, right? Besides, he was curious to see Harry all grown up. He wanted to hear about his adventures abroad. He wanted to see his eyes light up with happiness as he described all the work he'd done.
"I want to see him," he said out loud. Blaise groaned and Draco shot him a sharp look. "As an old friend. It'll be nice to catch up."
Pansy worried her lower lip. "If you say so, darling," she agreed quietly.
Draco was getting a little annoyed with their lack of faith in him. He stood up and dusted his hands off. "Well, I'll see you lot around," he announced. "I have an owl to send."
"Just be careful," Pansy called to his retreating back.
"Honestly!" Draco exclaimed in exasperation. "Will you two stop worrying? It's just Potter."
He shook his head and Disapparated.
Pansy smiled sadly at the spot he'd been standing in a moment ago. "Yeah," she murmured. "It's just Potter."
Without another word, Blaise pulled her into a hug. Pansy let him.
Draco jogged down the familiar trail in Hogsmeade village. He hadn't been to this place in...well, four years, but it seemed like nothing had changed. The Three Broomsticks was still cheerful and warm, clamouring with rowdy students out for a break from Hogwarts. And Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop was still a ruddy pink eyesore, filled with simpering couples gazing into each other's eyes. Draco chuckled as he recalled the time he'd dragged Harry in here on a lark. Merlin, the look on his face! They had laughed so much that the offended waitstaff had kicked them out. And there was the Shrieking Shack, looming in the distance.
Just the way it had always been.
The nostalgia only grew stronger as he walked past the shops and houses lining the streets. How many walks had he taken with Harry, right down this street? How many corners had they ducked into for a quick snog?
Of course, Draco reminded himself, they were just fond memories now. Nothing more.
With a renewed sense of purpose he left the winding roads behind and walked on. The spot Harry had referred to in his note wasn't far off. It was a little thicket of trees and shrubbery, nestled away from the hustle of the town. He had spent many an afternoon with Harry there, lounging in the grass and reading, sharing secrets and dreams, occasionally snogging.
Good times.
Now though, the thicket was bereft of greenery and laden with snow, like the rest of the town. Draco wrapped his scarf around his neck and looked around. Harry should be here by now. His note had said three, hadn't it?
It took him a moment before he spotted the lean silhouette leaning against the old oak tree. Draco stopped in his tracks. Even though he could only see the man's back, he knew exactly who it was.
Only Harry could have hair that messy.
A rush of feelings came over Draco, so strong it nearly knocked the wind out of him. Harry was here, waiting for him. It was like nothing had changed. His heart was beating rapidly now, seemingly overwhelmed by the powerful rush of affection, nostalgia and the slightest tinge of heartbreak. He couldn't move, couldn't persuade his feet to take the last few steps over to Harry and...
Harry turned around, seemingly sensing his presence.
The sight of those green eyes looking at him again hit Draco like a tidal wave. Harry's eyes widened and then a delighted grin broke out on his face. Draco's breath came out in a hitched laugh.
He was here. He was the same.
"Draco!"
And then Harry was jogging up to him, with his boyish grin and eyes glinting with mirth. Strong, toned arms wrapped around Draco, enveloping him in the oh-so-familiar scent of pine and musk.
"You came," Harry whispered, holding him tight. His chin brushed Draco's head. He'd gotten taller. "Merlin, I'm so glad you came."
"Of course I did," Draco murmured, over the sound of his thudding heartbeat and the rush of pure joy at seeing him again. "Of course I did."
Harry just held him tighter. "I missed you," he said.
Draco swallowed around a lump in his throat. His arms crept around to hold Harry close. "I missed you too."
They fell back into the old routine fairly quickly. Harry's joy was infectious and he was clearly happy to be home after so long. It was no trouble for Draco to indulge him by visiting all their old haunts and favourites.
Soon enough, they were nestled in the Three Broomsticks, enjoying pints of Butterbeer and a plate of hot scones. Draco was content to just listen as Harry talked fondly of his work with Healers Without Borders.
"...but seriously, Ghana is really beautiful," he said, between hearty swigs of Butterbeer. Draco fought off an amused smile. Harry might have loved his time abroad, but he had certainly missed his Butterbeer. "It's just this amazing place with life and spirit and...trust me, you'll love it."
"How are the kids?" Draco asked softly.
Harry's smile faded slightly. "We do what we can," he replied soberly. "Sometimes it's not enough. If I had my way, we'd have a Potion and Draught for every sick child in the world but..."
He trailed off and Draco's hand crept over to squeeze his. "I know you would," he said with a soft smile. "Those kids are lucky to have you."
Harry gave him a grateful smile that warmed his heart. "To tell the truth, it was hard to leave Healers Without Borders but I'm glad for it," he admitted quietly, almost as if he had something to feel guilty about after four years of gruelling work in a land so far from home. Draco's grip on his hand tightened a fraction. Harry smiled at the gesture. "After a while, I just came to a point when I knew I'd done all I can. And there are still great people out there. I figured I could...you know, finally come home."
You could have never left.
Draco ducked his head, momentarily surprised by the petty turn his thoughts had taken. Where had that come from? There was no sense in letting old wounds cloud this moment. No, that was uncalled for. Yes, it had hurt when Harry had left but that was ages ago. Harry was just a good friend now and he was clearly happy with the way things had turned out. He owed it to their friendship to let old hurts rest.
"So you're taking a position at St. Mungo's?" he asked, in an effort to change the subject.
"Paediatrics," Harry confirmed proudly. "I'm heading the entire division, can you believe it? And I'll still be working with kids, so that's a plus." He paused suddenly and shook his head in that self deprecating manner of his. "Merlin, I'm an arse. Have I been going on about me all this time? Why didn't you stop me?"
Draco smiled and shrugged. It was nice seeing Harry this animated, that was all. He hadn't seen a reason to stop it.
"Tell me about yourself," Harry insisted. "What have you been up to?"
So Draco told him about his research in Potions, the small apothecary he'd started which was now a well known supplier to all major hospitals and research centres (including St. Mungo's), his work to restore the Malfoy name after the war... Harry listened intently, his attention never wavering.
"I always knew you'd do amazing things," he commented once Draco had winded down. "Sometimes in Africa, I'd be in my bunk at night and I'd think hey, I wonder what Draco's doing right now and then I'd think probably something awesome." He grinned and raked a hand through his hair, making it stand up. Awful habit, that. Draco wondered why it made his heart flutter.
"You're just saying that," he demurred, somewhat embarrassed by Harry's frank declaration. Then, somewhat teasingly, he added, "You probably didn't even remember me, what with being such a busy Healer and all."
"Are you kidding?" Harry protested, sounding aghast at the notion. "I used to talk about you all the time! How much you love Potions, that loop-de-loop thing you used to do when we went flying, your favourite song...I'm pretty sure Healer Mensah knows when your birthday is. Oh, by the way, he says hi."
Draco managed a surprised bark of laughter. "Don't tell me you missed me that much," he quipped.
Harry's expression turned sober again. "Of course I did," he said softly. "That day at King's Cross, watching as I went further and further away from you...it nearly broke my heart. Back then, I couldn't imagine how I would go a day without seeing you, let alone four years. I missed you like mad. I missed you every single day, for a very long time."
Draco's throat tightened. He'd had no idea Harry had felt that way. A part of him was glad for it, as much as it shamed him. At least...at least he had meant something to Harry back then. But it was even worse to think of Harry miles away, miserable because of him.
"Of course, I knew I had to go," Harry went on. "I mean, it was a dream come true and I'm thankful for every minute of it. But it was hard, believe me."
Draco did believe him. He also believed that Harry would have left, no matter how hard things got. Perhaps it was a good thing he'd never asked Harry to stay. Now, he knew that Harry would have left no matter what. The thought sent a fresh lance of pain through his chest, which he stoically ignored. It was a long time ago, he reminded himself. It doesn't matter now.
"Well," Draco murmured finally. "It's all in the past now."
Harry smiled back, but there was something in his expression Draco couldn't quite place. "Of course," he agreed quietly.
Well. Apparently, that was that.
They went back to their food in silence. Draco mulled over his thoughts, suddenly conflicted and off balance. All his feelings for Harry— feelings that he thought he'd buried years ago— were coming to the surface again. Of course, it was probably the nostalgia and the warm memories of his time with the man, but that didn't explain why he still felt so...nice with Harry now, after all these years.
Had nothing changed?
"Hey."
Draco started as Harry grinned and leaned in, with that damned mischievous look in his eyes again. "Do you want to go bug the staff at Madam Puddifoot's again?" he asked, nudging Draco playfully. "You know, for old times' sake?"
Draco laughed and allowed Harry to herd him away, resolutely shaking off his maudlin thoughts. He was overreacting, that was all. This was Potter, for Salazar's sake. Silly, impish, always up for a good time Potter, who just wanted to have some fun with an old friend. And, Draco reflected as Potter dragged him off, they had always had fun together.
Perhaps, that was enough.
"I can't believe they recognised us," Draco commented, as they strolled down the street again.
"I can't believe they shooed us off at the door," Harry chuckled. His grin widened as he held up a brown bag. "Well, at least they gave us our order to go."
"A ham sandwich and a slice of apple pie," Draco commented, rolling his eyes. "Four years and your lunch order is still the same."
"Hey, I don't mess with the classics," Harry retorted, swinging an easy arm around his shoulders. "And I wouldn't talk, Mr I'll-just-have-a-salad. You used to snag half my sandwich every single time, admit it."
"Only because I cared about your health."
Harry laughed and jostled him playfully. Draco resisted the urge to lean into his chest. It was getting harder and harder to fight it, especially given how...tactile Harry was in his interactions. Feeling those strong hands on him again— even in the innocence of a quick hug or an arm around the shoulders— was bringing back all sorts of unresolved feelings.
It would be so easy to just give in to the temptation of the past, to fall back in the spirit of things, the way it used to be. Harry would put an arm around him and Draco would lean into his chest. Then Harry's hands would drift to his hair, teasing the blond strands with gentle fingers, and Draco would nudge his head in silent encouragement. Harry would laugh and resume his ministrations until Draco leaned in for a kiss and...
And then what?
Four years ago, Harry would have kissed him. Maybe now, after all this time, he wouldn't want to. Or maybe he would. Maybe he would kiss Draco and walk away, the way he had done back then.
And maybe, maybe it had hurt a lot back then, when Harry had left him behind. Maybe Draco had just refused to admit it for four years. If Harry did the same thing again, would he be able to bear it?
No. No, he didn't think he could.
Once in a lifetime was enough for that sort of heartache. Even if Draco had been in love with Harry once— a very, very long time ago— that didn't mean he needed to walk down that same road again. It would be prudent— wise, even— to just ignore these ridiculous feelings and accept that his time with Potter, however wonderful it might have been, was simply done with.
He hadn't stayed then, and he wouldn't stay now. Harry was the kind of person who sought adventure and new experiences. Besides, Draco wasn't in love with him anymore so really, there was nothing to worry about.
It was fine.
It was.
"You okay?" Harry asked, squeezing his shoulders gently. "You've been quiet for a while now."
"Just thinking," Draco replied evasively. Harry frowned and his expression shifted to one of concern. He was going to ask questions, Draco just knew he would. And he didn't have answers right now, not while his feelings were such a damned mess. So, he shifted out of Potter's grip and switched tracks at once.
"You know what I haven't done in forever?"
Harry cocked his head questioningly.
"Gone flying," Draco elaborated. "Let's go flying, like we used to."
Harry smiled, even though he didn't look too convinced. "We don't have brooms."
"It's Hogsmeade, we'll buy some," Draco retorted, with a roll of his eyes. "Come on, Potter. I want to grind you in the dust again."
Harry's lips quirked in a grin. "You wish."
The awkward moment was forgotten as they raced for the broom shop. Draco heaved a sigh of relief and followed Harry's quickening footsteps.
Their day together came to an end sooner than Draco would have liked. After a rousing game of Seeker's Tag, they visited Honeydukes and when they left, their pockets were bulging with sugar quills and chocolate frogs. Draco laughed when Harry got a Special Edition Dumbledore Card with his frog. As it turned out, he still collected the blasted things.
Now, here they were, sitting on a rusty old bench in their spot, eating candy and watching the world fade to dusk. Draco sighed, feeling content. It had been a long time since he'd been so...at peace with things. Life had been nothing but one day after another for so long, but in this moment, he felt like he could just breathe again.
"It's like going back in time," Harry broke the silence. He turned his head to smile at Draco. "Just being here with you, it's like I'm eighteen again. I can almost taste the Firewhisky."
Draco frowned. "When did we get Firewhisky?" They had only sneaked alcohol into Hogwarts a few times during Eighth Year. A healthy fear of Headmistress McGonagall (not to mention, Granger) had done wonders for their sobriety.
Harry's eyebrows rose. "You don't remember?" he blurted incredulously. "Draco, come on!"
"What?"
"You seriously don't remember how we started dating?"
Draco bristled indignantly. "Of course I do, don't be daft! It was right here in Hogsmeade, as a matter of fact. Practically everyone stayed back for Winter Break, so we went to Hogsmeade. Of course, you spent too much time at Zonko's and we lost the group and ended up staying out past curfew."
"After which, I figured we were in trouble anyway so we might as well make a night of it," Harry contributed, sounding exceptionally proud of his younger self.
"Your deductive reasoning never fails to impress," Draco retorted dryly. "Anyway, that's the night we found this spot. We stayed here until midnight, just...talking for hours. And then, before I knew it..." Draco paused for a second, a little overwhelmed by the intensity of those memories. When he looked up, Harry was staring at him with unwavering green eyes, his handsome face framed by the dim light of the rising moon.
"We were kissing," Draco finished softly.
Harry had drifted closer to him. He was barely a hair's breadth away from Draco now. Draco inhaled sharply as he leaned in. "You left out a few details," Harry whispered, his lips brushing Draco's ear. Draco's breath left in a gasp as Harry's hand reached up to cradle his face.
"Like how we talked Madam Rosmerta into giving us all that Firewhisky. That was your idea, by the way. And you forgot what day that was too. It was precisely two weeks before Christmas, four years ago to the day. This was the night I kissed you for the very first time."
"We could hear the carollers singing," Draco murmured. "There were fairy lights strung on the tree branches." It was all coming back now. Every last detail of that night was vivid and clear and he wondered how he could have ever forgotten. How could he have ever forgotten how Harry had made him feel that night?
"You were so damn beautiful," Harry whispered, his fingers tracing Draco's jaw line. "You're so beautiful now."
"Harry," Draco breathed. His voice was a whisper. He could barely hear himself think over the clamour of his hammering heart. He felt like he was drowning, being swept away in the pull of the moment. And Harry's lips were so close and they felt so warm against his skin...
"Draco," Harry whispered, and then his lips pressed against Draco's in a soft kiss.
It was everything he remembered, and nothing he expected. Harry's lips were still soft and warm. His grip on Draco was firm, yet surprisingly gentle. His hands still moved in lazy circles over Draco's spine, coming to rest possessively at his nape. But the innocence and endearing clumsiness that Draco remembered were gone. Harry was more confident now, his hands sure and capable. Draco's blood flared when Harry nipped his bottom lip, before soothing the mild sting with his tongue. He hummed and smiled into the kiss.
"Looks like someone picked up some new moves," he quipped.
Harry laughed and deepened the kiss for a moment, before breaking away. His fingers still traced Draco's face. The expression on Harry's face was one of wonder. "You're the same," he murmured, half to himself. "You're here, and you're the same. It's all the same, just...just how I left it."
Just how I left it.
It was like being doused with cold water. Draco froze. The shock of realisation sent a chill down his spine.
It's all the same, just how I left it.
It was the same. All these years and just what had changed? Harry was still the only one for him. The only one who could make his blood flare and his heart race, the only one he made him feel safe and wanted.
The only man Draco had ever wanted.
The only man he had ever loved.
The only man who had ever broken his heart.
The realisation hit him with the force of a tidal wave. Salazar help him, he had loved Harry. He had loved Harry since he was eighteen.
And evidently, he had never stopped.
And Harry...Harry had left him. Harry had never loved him. He had never felt the way Draco had. Harry had left, and now...what? What did he want?
What was this all about?
"Draco, you're the reason I came back," Harry was saying. "I just had to know if...if we could pick up where we left off."
Draco's heart plummeted. A cold, heavy feeling settled in his gut.
Where we left off?
Where we left off?
No. No. That's not what happened!
"We didn't leave off anything, Harry," he spoke in the sudden silence. He was moving now, pushing Harry away and slipping out of his grip. Harry's eyes widened and he reached out, but Draco was already backing away. His eyes prickled and his vision was going blurry, but he refused to back down. No, he'd kept this in for too long. He needed to say this. Now that he knew, he needed to say it.
"You left," he said, feeling a bitter tinge of satisfaction when his voice didn't waver. "You left me. That's what happened. How exactly are we supposed to pick up where we left off when you're the one who did all the leaving?"
Harry took a step back, his eyes wide with shock. A hurt expression flitted across his face. "Draco, I had to go," he argued, sounding lost and helpless. "It was...it was what I needed and...Merlin, you can't think that it was easy for me! Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do."
"But in the end, you did," Draco argued, hating that his voice was wavering. "You did and it was easy for you, Harry. Don't deny it. You didn't look back once. You didn't even send me an owl! You just...you went away for good and you didn't look back!"
"Oh, like you wrote to me?" Harry snapped, sounding angry now. "I'm not the only one who forgot about us, Draco. You don't know how many nights I stayed awake, wondering if you even thought about me anymore! You have no idea how much I missed you, so don't you dare speak for me! You left me too. You walked away from me too!"
How dare he? Did he understand nothing? Draco stared at the selfish bastard, shocked into silence. His fists were clenched tight and his nails dug into his palm. He felt the moment when he lost control of the storm building inside him. It all came out, torrential and unforgiving as a tidal wave.
"What choice did you leave me?" Draco snarled. "What was I supposed to do? Guilt you into staying? Ask you to give up your dream? Should I have told you that I loved you? That for some insane, self destructive reason, I never stopped loving you and it's killing me? Oh yes, that would have worked out splendidly!"
His rant ended in silence. Harry was staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes. It was then, and only then that Draco realised just what he'd said.
No.
Oh no.
"You...you loved me?" Harry echoed in a small voice. He took a step forward, comprehension dawning on his face. "You said you never...you stilllove me?"
Oh Merlin, no.
What had he done?
How had this happened? How could he have said it out loud? To someone who didn't love him, who couldn't possibly feel the same way about him, no less!
Harry must think him mad. Pathetic.
He had to get out of here. He had to go now.
"Draco?" Harry's voice was sharper now, urgent and demanding.
Draco shook his head, his mind having shut down in a panicked fog. "I have to go," he mumbled. "I have to go."
"What the…no!" Harry looked alarmed now, approaching him with quick, urgent strides. "Don't you dare! Draco, you can't say something like that and run! Don't you dare move, you hear me?!"
But Draco wasn't listening. All he knew was that he'd fucked up. He had lost Harry four years ago, and now he'd done it again. He had no desire to draw this out any longer. It was too painful. He couldn't do this again. Not again.
"I have to go," he repeated softly.
Harry reached out in a desperate attempt to grab him, and Draco Disapparated.
In the end, he decided that his flat in Diagon Alley would be the perfect place to wallow and subsequently, die in misery. He did consider going to Pansy and Blaise's, but he was in no mood for the I-told-you-so lecture that would inevitably follow. The Manor was his second choice, but he didn't want to rattle around a large mansion like some wretched ghost either.
So, Draco barricaded the door, put up three different Locking Charms and then slid to the floor with his back against the wall, preparing for a good long wallow.
"Draco?"
The cautious knock and familiar gentle voice from the other side made him sit up with a gasp of horror. Draco clapped a hand to his mouth and steadied his breathing, praying that the noise hadn't carried over.
"I can hear you trying to keep quiet, you know."
Damn it.
Draco groaned and thunked his head against the door. "How did you find me?"
There was some rustling from the other side, followed by a soft thump. Draco surmised that Harry had followed his example and made camp by the door. "It took a while," Harry explained patiently. "I tried the Manor first. Your house-elves were kind enough to give me directions."
Draco made a mental note to take an arm load of socks with him when he next visited the Manor.
"We have to talk about this, Draco." Harry's voice was gentle but firm, and it was doing things to him and he so did not need this right now.
"What's left to say?" Draco demanded, hating the fact that his voice hitched a little. He swiped his damp eyes angrily. "I've said my piece and made a right idiot of myself while I was at it. I don't want to say anything else, thanks."
"If anyone's the idiot here, it's me," Harry replied. His voice held a touch of anger. "Draco, you have to know that I would never have left if I had any idea..."
"Don't," Draco snapped, instantly defensive. "I didn't need your pity then, and I don't need it now. Just...just go back to Africa and leave me alone! Like you did the last time!"
"That's not fair," Harry murmured. "I didn't know, Draco. I didn't know."
He sounded sad now, and it made Draco all the more miserable. He rested his head on his knees, trying to steady his rapid breathing. His chest hurt and his throat was tight. "How could you have known?" he mumbled in the silence. "I didn't know until twenty minutes ago."
There was a soft laugh from the other side. "That makes two of us." There was a beat of silence and then Harry spoke again, soft and reassuring. "I swear I'll never leave you behind again. I'll never hurt you again. But I can't fix this if you won't let me. Please, just let me in."
Draco's eyes welled up. "You went away," he accused, for lack of anything else to say. It sounded feeble, and he cursed himself for being so weak.
"I came back," Harry pointed out gently. "I came back for you. I'll always come back for you."
Draco fell silent, partly because he couldn't dispute that fact and partly because he half hoped that Harry would just give up and leave anyway. He wasn't exactly holding his breath for the latter. If nothing else, Harry had proved that he was persistent. He had come back, hadn't he? And he was still here now, although Draco had done nothing but dissuade him.
Maybe...maybe he did need to hear what Harry had to say. Salazar help him, it couldn't possibly get worse, could it?
He wasn't even sure if he took the Locking Spells off himself or if they just gave way on their own. Either way, a second later, the door opened with a click and then Harry was there, kneeling beside him with a tentative smile on his face.
"Hey," he said softly, lifting a hand to swipe Draco's hair back gently.
"Hi," Draco mumbled, averting his gaze.
Harry sidled over, still petting him gently. "You're shaking," he pointed out.
Draco nodded, doing his best not to lean into the gentle touch. He started when Harry pulled his arm.
"We're going to talk by the fire," Harry decided firmly. "Where it's warm. I'm not having you catch your death of cold out here."
Draco was too numb and wrung out to protest the bossy attitude. He was exhausted and overwhelmed and much as he hated to admit it, Harry's take charge attitude was a comfort right now. So Draco let him, not protesting when Harry settled him on the couch, wrapping him up in a soft blanket and pulling him into his arms. Draco sighed and leaned into his chest, pulling small comfort from the solid, unwavering presence by his side. He felt his eyelids drooping. He was so tired.
Harry must have sensed his exhaustion because he shook him gently. Then, gentle fingers tipped his head up, compelling him to look into those green eyes. Draco braced himself for the inevitable let down, the I-just-never-thought-of-you-that-way...
"You should know," Harry said softly, "that I knew I loved you the second I set foot on that train."
Draco stared at him, unable to process what he had just heard. His first thought was that Harry was lying, that he couldn't possibly be telling the truth. But the conviction in his eyes and the determined look on his face— that was unmistakable. This was real. Harry was telling the truth. And that meant...
"Then why did you leave?" Draco demanded.
Harry sighed heavily. "I didn't know what the future held, and it scared me. I didn't know if you felt the same way and I was terrified of finding out. When they told me they were sending me to Africa, I thought...I thought that was the way things were meant to be, that our time together was coming to an end. I thought it was a sign."
His hands crept up to cradle Draco's face. Harry's eyes held a raw sincerity that Draco knew all too well. He couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to. "Getting on that train, knowing I was leaving you behind...it scared me so much I nearly jumped off," Harry told him, tracing a thumb against his cheek. "That was the sign. I should have jumped off. I should have Apparated back. I should have taken the first Portkey out of Ghana and come back to you."
Draco leaned into the warmth of his palms. His heart was beating rapidly, and he could feel it quicken in tandem with Harry's words. "Why didn't you?" he asked.
Harry's answering smile was bitter. "Because I'm not as brave as everyone thinks? I was eighteen and stupid. You were the first big love of my life, Draco. If you didn't feel the same way...I didn't want to find out. It was easier to just throw myself into work, to tell myself we weren't meant to be together. If I knew then, what I know now..." He grimaced and shook his head. "I've got half a mind to get a Time Turner and smack some sense into eighteen-year-old me."
Draco managed a brittle, shaky laugh. "Have a go at my younger self too," he offered. "I'm not exactly thrilled with him at the moment."
Harry didn't laugh. His expression was dead serious, tinged with an old pain that Draco recognised every time he looked in the mirror. "It took me four years— of not forgetting, of lying awake and thinking about you at night, of wondering where you were and how you were— to admit what I always knew. That the only thing that really mattered was what I'd left behind. Draco, I'll never be sorry I left. But I'll always regret not taking you with me." His hands crept up to pull Draco over, holding him close like he was something precious and breakable. "I'm not eighteen anymore," Harry murmured. "And I can't say goodbye again, Draco. I can't watch you disappear again. Please, just let me stay."
Draco didn't need to hear anything else. Harry's words were a balm to his aching heart. It was everything he'd wanted and it was all he would ever need. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too," Harry replied, and Draco's heart soared.
Their lips met in a soft kiss. Draco gasped as Harry's arm wrapped around him and pulled him over, flush against his chest. He felt his body relaxing, melting into the warmth and strength in that strong, broad frame. Harry was the anchor he'd needed and Draco was determined to hold on to him with everything he had.
"Don't leave me behind," he whispered into the kiss.
"Never again," Harry promised with a smile. "I'm here to stay."
And in that moment, Draco felt like he was eighteen all over again.