Harry wants. He wants a family, friends, a future. He wants to be happy.

He wants Draco Malfoy. He wants him so many different ways that he doesn't know what he wants.

Harry dreams. He dreams that Draco is touching him, teasing him. He dreams that he is tied up, straining, yearning, wanting—and that when Draco touches him it's like a brand on his skin and he can't dream of anyone else. He doesn't want to.

He dreams that Draco is taking him, fucking him, making love to him, and words don't matter because he is wanted and he feels utterly complete.

He dreams that Draco is kissing him. Their mouths meet again and again and he can't stop and he doesn't want to stop, ever. It's rough and violent, at times gentle and sweet, but he doesn't know which he likes better because he dreams of them both.

But really, dreams are only dreams and no matter how much Harry wants it, wants him, he's learned again and again, that you can't always have what you want.

ooo

Harry Potter marries Ginny Weasley one day years after the war ends. He gets a family, his friends, a future. He's happy.

But sometimes, regardless of how many times he tells himself to let impossibilities go, he dreams of Draco Malfoy. And he wants.