This is a re-post because the formatting of the prevoius version was upsetting me. I'm weird like that.
I was singing 'Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad' by Meatloaf in the shower when I came up with this idea. It's such a sad song, and when I stopped singing it (I'm not a good singer, so my family were probably happy I'd stopped) I had this all planned out. I had thought it would be shorter, but my ideas tend to run away from me... Anyway I hope you like it!
This is both Hinny and Drarry. Reviews are a ray of sunlight :-D
Two Out of Three Ain't Bad
"I love you, Harry," mumbled Ginny as she snuggled against his side, pressing a feather-light kiss to his bare shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around her waist, her skin burning hot, her long ginger hair tickling his chest every time she breathed. He lay there, sated and peaceful except for that tiny niggling feeling in the back of his brain that surfaced every time Ginny professed her love for him, that miniscule feeling that was the reason he had never told her that he loved her.
It was snowing. Harry could see the feathery flakes through the window, spiralling and twisting in the halo of golden light cast by the streetlight outside, and he had a sudden, powerful, unexpected desire to simply jump out through the window, shattering the panes of glass, burrow into one of the piles of snow and sleep forever.
Then Ginny spoke, and her voice, thick and heavy with tiredness, blew away his morbid fantasy. "You know, Harry, we should get married soon." Her voice wasn't forceful or persuasive; she was simply stating a fact, but Harry stiffened beside her. She raised her eyebrows, resting her chin on her hand and looking at him curiously. "What? We've been going out for seven years, and we were dancing around it for a few years before that, we're practically living together as it is... Why not?" Harry sat up slowly, looking into her brown eyes, bright with excitement. "I… I… No, Ginny. I can't." Her face fell.
"But… but why?" He slid out of their bed; mind filled with memories of another bed, another time, another question…
"Because I… Because I don't…" The words stuck in his throat. "I need to go," he muttered, grabbing his boxers and his trousers and pulling them on. He scanned the room, locating his short and slipping it on.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny sat up, the sheet falling away from her. His eyes devoured her smooth, freckly skin, her slender body, her fiery, tangled hair, and he yearned to shrug off his clothes and re-join her, shrug off the incident... But he couldn't. "I'm sorry, Ginny."
She climbed out of bed. "Fine, I get it. You need some space. But it's okay." She moved towards him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He tensed involuntarily. "Take all the time you need, Harry. I love you, and I know you love me, and I'll wait, okay darling?"
Something inside Harry finally clicked, and he stepped away, pushing Ginny gently aside. "That's the thing, Ginny," he said quietly. He bent down and pulled on his socks. "I want you," he whispered, lacing up his Converse. "I need you," he stood up, face unreadable, his green eyes meeting her brown, "but I am never going to love you."
Ginny looked at him, beginning to shake as she absorbed his words. He continued to speak, his voice calm and soothing. "Don't be sad, though, Ginny. Two out of three isn't bad, but you deserve someone who can love you."
Even as he spoke, he remembered the words that had been said to him, that had hurt so much for so long. "I'm so sorry Ginny." Tears were streaming silently down her face.
"But why?" she whispered brokenly. "Couldn't you try to love me?" Harry smiled sadly.
"I've been trying for seven years. There's only one person I will ever love, and that was… that was a long time ago. I'm… I am truly sorry." He picked up his jacket and gazed around the warm, cosy room he adored. "There is nothing I can say, Ginny. You can cry and I could talk all night, but it won't help. You deserve more." He looked at her, standing naked and crying in the middle of the room. She had honestly never looked so beautiful.
"I'll pick up… pick up my stuff later in the week." He turned to the door, opening it and shivering as the cold air hit him. He glanced back at the woman he had hoped he could love, alone in what had been their room. "I wish I could love you like you deserve, but I can't give you something I just haven't got." He stepped out into the night. "Goodbye, Ginny," he whispered almost silently, then closed the door behind him.
As Harry walked through the snow, wet and cold because of his unsuitable clothes, he was assailed by images of the horrible night when Draco Malfoy had broken Harry Potter's heart.
It was a stormy, wild night. Harry the Gryffindor Hero and Draco the Slytherin Prince were ensconced in their secret place. It had started as nothing more than a sheltered corner of the Astronomy Tower that they had surrounded with so many spells and enchantments that even Dumbledore would have been hard pressed to find it. Over the course of the year however, it had… been improved. There was a mattress with pillows and blankets, and they both kept some books and clothes up here just in case. It was their sanctuary, the only place they could have some peace away from everyone else.
Harry knew that his friends would be horrified if they found out how Harry let his guard down around the Slytherin. But that trust had been a long time coming.
Everyone had returned to Hogwarts tired and jaded after the war. Harry and Hermione had decided to finish their studies, coming back for what was dubbed an '8th' year. (Ron had left for Romania to spend a year with Charlie Weasley and the dragons, still mourning Fred.) Harry had been less adventurous, more studious, more careful, less prone to fooling about… but his amnosity with Malfoy remained. And even if the insults and threats seemed less barbed now, it was one part of his old life that was still constant, and for that he was grateful.
But one night, when the pair were leaving a detention they had received for duelling in NEWT level Transfiguration, the anger and rage had turned to passion.
At first it was nothing but carnal lust that drew them together again and again and their meetings on the Astronomy Tower were simply for physical satisfaction, but after a while they started to… talk.
They talked about Quidditch. They talked about food. About clothes. About schoolwork. About the future. They even talked about the war that had scarred them both, mentally and physically- about things they had never talked about to anyone before. They became more comfortable around each other. They had started calling each other by their first names. They still argued, but it was less vicious and they always made up afterwards.
And to Harry's horror, he found himself falling in love with Draco Malfoy. He had kept this to himself- who could he tell?
But today… It was the summer holidays in only one week. Harry had been accepted into the Auror program, and Draco was starting training to be a Healer. They would be parting ways soon. Harry had to tell him.
They were lying entwined, peaceful and quiet as the rain rebounded against their shields. Harry raised his head slowly. "Draco? Um… Draco, I…" Concerned grey eyes met nervous green. "Draco, I… I love you." Draco's whole body tensed, and Harry froze. What had he done?
Carefully, Draco extricated his limbs from Harry's, standing up. Harry half-sat up. "Draco, where are you going?" Draco grabbed his clothes from where they were scattered on the floor.
"Harry. I want you. I need you." He began to get dressed and Harry reached out in vain. "But I am never going to love you." Harry flinched at the harsh words, closing his eyes, missing Draco's brief look of anguish. Draco gathered his books and the stuff that had accumulated over the year, standing at the exit of the place they had made together.
Harry felt a tear trickle down his cheek, knowing that if Draco left he would never return. "Can't you stay? Please? For me? I…" He swallowed. "Please don't leave," he whispered brokenly. Draco stepped out into the rain. "Goodbye, Potter."
And then he was gone.
Harry curled up in a desolate ball, aching as if Draco's words had been physical blows. He breathed in the scent of Draco that still lingered on the pillows and blankets, and cried himself to sleep.
Harry felt the snowflakes in his hair as he came back to the present, cheeks wet from the remembered heartbreak. He still ached from that night, but there was nothing he could do.
Draco Malfoy might not have loved him back, but he had stolen Harry's heart all the same.
I do ship Hinny, but I rather liked the idea of Harry being still loving someone else. And Drarry is one of my OTPs :-D Yes I have more than one don't judge.