There Is, a harry potter fanfic

Author Notes/Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy. They belong to JKR. I'm simply borrowing them, and using them in my own scenarios for my (and hopefully your) entertainment. I also do not own the song I used. It's BoxCar Racer's 'There Is'. Check it out if you're not familiar. I love it.

/This vacation's useless
These white pills aren't kind
I've given a lot of thought
On this thirteen-hour drive
I miss the grinded concrete
Where we sat past eight or nine
And slowly finished laughing
In the glow of our headlights/

"It's going to be a long one. Our forecast says Mother Nature shows no sign of relenting any time soon, and it'll be raining at least until mid-afternoon tomorrow."

"Yeah, well Mother Nature's a bitch," he muttered. As if on cue, a deafening clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning so bright it was almost neon, came from overhead. He flicked to the next radio station, hoping he could receive signal from something other than the weather network.

"The final score tonight at Wembley Stadium, is 3-0 Scotland, we were expecting-"

He clicked the radio off, and rubbed his forehead with the hand he wasn't using to drive. On either side of the two-lane road he was driving on, there was nothing but trees. The scenery was immaculate, but he was struggling as it was to pay enough attention to keep the car driving in a straight line. With the torrential downpour around him, he couldn't see much anyways.

The silence he had created by turning the radio off, aside from the noise of the car and the weather, was deafening. It was the kind of silence that wasn't necessarily quiet, but consuming. However, with the headache he had, the consumption of the absence of noise was a welcome change from the throbbing between his eyes.

He opened the glove compartment, but shut it soon after, remembering that even if he had his Muggle headache pills – Tylenol - under his mediwitch's instruction, he was under no circumstances, to combine other medication with the potions he was already on.

Despite Ron's insistence, he knew that the month long break in his Auror division's assignments was for his benefit. He didn't need a break, and he wanted one even less. He needed to keep busy to distract his mind and tire him out. He wasn't sleeping. It had been a month, and the only sleep he had gotten, had been from the Dreamless Sleep potions he had been prescribed. They didn't always work, and when he took them, he suffered a nauseating headache long afterwards as a result.

His potion from the previous night was bothering him now. He had been told that the side effects of the liquid could last for up to eighteen hours. The last thing he needed was a drug-induced headache on top of his own, but unfortunately, it was the first thing on his mind - literally, and figuratively.

The clock read 9:30pm, meaning that he had been driving for a little under thirteen hours now, and making good time, despite the weather.

The area he was driving through became more condensed with trees, which were in turn, sheltering the road. With the quiet left from the lack of rain reaching his car through the foliage, he was left in complete silence, broken only by the thoughts in his head, reminding, nagging, and remembering.

At long last, he was greeted by the 'For Sale' sign on his front lawn. He backed into his driveway, parked his car, and got out. He hurried to the shelter of his veranda to avoid getting wet.

The new place was far, but that was what he needed. His new place wouldn't hold memories.

He glanced back towards the street and saw that he had left his headlights on. He walked back toward his car, slower this time, but stopped halfway, rain soaking him as he stood. The light illuminated the side of the road. Just as the light from his highbeams were doing to the darkness, thoughts came flooding back to him; memories of the two of them sitting on the curb, laughing until their sides hurt, and tears rolled down their faces. More than once, they had pulled all-nighters, and stayed there when the weather permitted, until others were on their way to work the next morning, and then they would go inside, collapse on each other, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

The neighbours would give them sideways glances; the older ones giving them dirty looks that they thought went unseen.

/I've given a lot of thought to
The nights we used to have
The days have come and gone
Our lives went by so fast
I faintly remember breathing
On your bedroom floor
Where I laid and told you
But you swear you love me more/

He turned back towards the house, tears mixing with rain, his headlights forgotten. The house that once seemed so welcoming was now more haunting than anything. The front hall closet doors were composed of two floor-to-ceiling mirrors on a track that was built into the floor and the roof.

Lately, he had been avoiding looking in the mirror at all costs, but in order to put his shoes away, he didn't have much choice. He looked thin. Too thin. His black denims would have been around his ankles had he not been wearing a belt. The black Weird Sisters shirt that had once fit him perfectly, now hung loose on his slightly emaciated frame. His dark hair was a mess, clinging to his head, the strands dripping and causing droplets to run over his forehead and into his eyes, or off the tip of his nose. His skin was now pale, except for the dark circles under his eyes. His green bloodshot eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to spill over at any given time, and because of their red rims and dark shadows, they almost appeared sunken-in. To say he was a wreck would have been an understatement.

He walked into the kitchen, down the hall and to the right. The entire house looked so foreign. Every room had been packed, boxed, and left empty. Every room, except one. The bedroom the two had shared was the last room left to load into boxes. It had remained untouched for a month, since he had put the house up for sale.

He opened up the box closest to him, and pulled out a green coffee mug. One of the few things not packed up, was the Muggle coffee maker. He tossed the old coffee filter into the sink, and replaced it with three fresh scoops of coffee and a fresh paper, filled the maker with water to the line marked 'three' and waited for the hot brown liquid to percolate.

He trudged upstairs, steaming mug in hand, and pushed open the one door in the house that had remained closed for so long. He knew this would be hard, but he hadn't realized that it would hurt quite as much as it did.

Picking up a discarded cardboard box from the hall on his way into the room, he took in everything around him. Everything was just as he had left it. He wasn't sure why this surprised him, or what he had been expecting. Maybe he thought that by coming back in here after so long, that everything would have been back to normal - back to the way it should have been. The closet was open, and only half full, the sheets were still thrown back, pillows in disarray across the bed, and the large green blanket was still on the floor.

He made his way to the headboard, and started placing framed photos into the box he was still toting. The first picture was of the two of them, taken by his old friend Ginny. It was taken before their first date.

They had both been nervous, for they both knew the other was someone special, someone different, someone that would be hard to leave behind, and impossible to forget. Time had slipped by so quickly. It seemed like it was just yesterday they had run into each other at a bookstore, the war long over. They had agreed that it was best to let the past stay in the past, and start anew. They had ended up talking for hours that night.

Neither would have guessed that a relationship like theirs would have lasted so long. He leaned over the dresser beside the bed, and examined himself in the mirror. "Pull yourself together, Harry. He's been gone for a month now." He almost half-expected his reflection to reply. It wouldn't have been the first time it had happened.

The past year had been like a fairytale for Harry. People had always told him they were perfect together, and he had never disagreed. Harry and Draco. Draco and Harry. Flawless. However, the sands of time slipped through their fingers, and they fell from each other's grasp, ending their fairytale of perfection. Harry placed the photo in his box, and continued to pack.

The next picture he picked up was one of himself. This particular picture used to make him laugh every time he saw it, but this time all he offered was a sad smile. The picture was of him lying on the floor, eyes half closed, mouth open.

He remembered seeing the flash, and looking sleepily up at Draco, who had just snapped his picture with his prized Muggle Polaroid. He was lying on the hardwood floor in Draco's bedroom in his old flat, drifting off to sleep.

"I love watching you sleep," Draco had explained with a smile, settling himself down on his bed, which was perpendicular to the way Harry was lying, and leaned back against the wall.

"Can I tell you something?" Harry had asked sleepily, returning the smile.

"Anything."

"I love you," he said, his eyes starting to close involuntarily.

"I love you more." He got up off the bed, lying next to Harry on the floor, propping himself up on one elbow, and taking Harry's hand in his.

"You mean it?"

"I swear it."

Harry snapped out of his flashback, and placed that photo in the box with the others. That had been the first time they had said they loved each other. The first of many times, each standing out individually in his mind, playing themselves over and over like a silent film, but none quite as memorable as the first.

/Do you care if I
Don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight
Will you think of me
Will I shake this off
Pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there
That feels just like me
There is/

Pictures and postcards. Why he kept them all, Harry would never know. He pulled the thumbtacks out of the wall, dropped them carelessly onto the dresser, and stacked the postcards in the box. Although he reprimanded himself for being such a pack rat, he knew he'd never get rid of a single one. Most of them hadn't been written on, but they were landmarks of places the two had been together.

The Eiffel Tower, Stonehenge, the Athens Acropolis, Glasgow Cathedral, Charles Bridge, Ponte Vecchio, Kölner Dom. None, however, holding the memories that Lake Como in Italy held - their first fight.

It had been their six-month anniversary and they had rented a cabin up in Lake Como for a week. The weather had been bad. It had rained. The words 'flash flood' more adequately described it.

Harry couldn't remember what they had been fighting about. At the time it had probably seemed important, but he knew that in the scheme of things, it was trivial and insignificant. Unless it pertained to the present, it didn't matter.

It was pushing midnight, and Draco had gone to leave, opening the door and allowing the rain to soak them both instantly.

"Please..." Harry had reached over his shoulder, and shut the heavy wooden door. With a hand on his shoulder, he gently turned the slightly taller man around, and moved his hands up to his face, placing one on either cheek. "Please..." he had repeated, this time quieter.

"I can't," Draco choked out. "What if-"

"It doesn't matter." He slid his hands back, and linked his arms around Draco's neck, and stepped closer.

"It does," he replied, knowing perfectly well that their fight was over as soon as he had looked into Harry's eyes.

"It won't," Harry murmured, closing the gap between them. "It doesn't anymore." He kissed him softly, slowly. "See?"

Silence settled over the two of them. "I don't know what to say." Draco blushed slightly, and lowered his mouth back towards Harry's.

"You don't have to."

Harry led him backwards slowly towards the bed. He slipped his hands from around Draco's neck and ran them along his abdomen, under his shirt. He slid the shirt over his head as the blond's hands worked the buttons on Harry's own. He pulled Draco down on to the bed with him, and said nothing as he stared in the mercurial grey eyes of his lover.

He straddled Draco's waist, and leaned down to press a soft kiss on his collarbone. He scooted back as his fingers worked at his belt and zipper. Once the two of them were naked, he lay on top of the taller man, his hard length grinding deliciously with Draco's. He licked the shell of his ear and placed a soft kiss on his neck, just below it. "You're beautiful, you know."

Draco guided his face back to his, and their tongues met outside their mouths in a languid sensual kiss. "You're perfect," he whispered back.

Harry lapped at his neck, and moved down slowly, taking one of Draco's nipples in his mouth. He teased it with his teeth as his hand tweaked the other, rolling the bud between his fingers, eliciting a low moan from Draco's throat. The blond's hands clenched in the sheets at his sides as Harry moved lower down his abdomen.

Their fight forgotten, Harry nipped at the inside of Draco's thigh before taking his erection into his mouth, swallowing it right down to the base, knowing it would send Draco into overload. He wasn't disappointed, as Draco writhed and quivered beneath his ministrations, moaning and panting. He pulled back until just the tip was in his mouth, and laved it with his tongue, swirling it around the head, and pushing it into the slit. He bobbed up and down, establishing a rhythm. He brought one of his hands up to massage Draco's balls, as the other gently pushed his knees further apart.

He pulled his mouth off of Draco's throbbing member, and was met with a groan of unintelligible protests. He smiled slightly to himself, and leaned back further, teasing Draco's entrance with his tongue.

"Gods, Harry." Draco's hands found their way down, and tangled themselves in Harry's dark locks. "You're so – Fuck, I love you. Gods, more. Please, more."

Always one to oblige, Harry drove his tongue deep into Draco's channel. He curled and twisted it as he thrust in and out. Pulling back, he quickly replaced his tongue with a single digit. As he drove his finger in and out of the saliva-slicked opening, a swift Accio sent a tube of lube flying his way. He added another finger, as Draco gave a breathy moan.

He leaned over and licked a trail across Draco's jaw, as he added another finger. He rubbed lube over his own erection, as Draco pulled his mouth up to his for a searing kiss. Removing his fingers, he lined his slick member up with Draco's entrance, and slowly slid in. They both moaned, and Harry leaned over to rest his forehead on Draco's. Giving them both a moment to adjust, Harry slowly started to thrust, setting a torturously slow pace.

"Harder, Harry! Fuck – more!"

Harry obeyed, knowing once he picked up his speed, neither would last long. He slid back in, quicker this time, and shifted positions, driving himself and Draco closer to oblivion as his erection grazed Draco's prostate with every thrust.

He brought a hand to Draco's leaking member, and stroked up and down in time with his own movements. He elicited a guttural moan as he came, filling Draco's hot channel with his seed. Draco followed seconds later with a scream, his come coating both their stomachs.

"Fuck, you're good at that."

Harry grinned lazily as he pulled out of Draco, and muttered a quick Cleaning Charm, as he wrapped his arms around the blond. "Takes two to tango, Love."

A few hours later, they were lying in bed together, Harry's arms wrapped around Draco's middle, Draco with his back to Harry, Harry with his knees bent behind Draco's.

Harry had been lying awake, unable to sleep.

"Harry?" Apparently Draco had been too.

"Hmm?"

"You love me, right?"

Harry pulled Draco closer to him, and kissed his temple. Then his ear, his jaw, between his shoulder blades, and then he placed his lips once more where his neck met his shoulder. "So much, Draco. More than I could ever possibly tell you." He looked down to see Draco breathing evenly, sleeping with a content smile playing on his lips.

Harry had always been the peacemaker, the stronger of the two, and as he placed the postcard on the top of the pile in the box, he almost found it ironic that he was the one that fell apart.

/Those notes you wrote me
I've kept them all
I've given a lot of thought
Of how to write you back this fall
With every single letter
In every single word
There will be a hidden message
About a boy that loves a girl/

After finishing with all the pictures on the headboard and postcards on the wall, Harry started in on his desk. He came across a simple brown shoebox, with the word 'Adidas' across the top. The box had been from Draco's trainers. He owned at least five pairs of the same ones. All white with the three trademark black stripes down the sides.

He had no idea as to what was inside the box, and he couldn't figure out why it would have been pushed back against the wall, on top of the cluttered desk.

Sitting down on the bed, the box beside him, he removed the dusty lid to reveal its contents. It was full of notes and pieces of paper that had all been taped around the house somewhere.

Every single paper had writing on it. They were all in Draco's careful, neat scrawl, his i's dotted with little circles. The notes all bore messages like "I'll miss you," and "I love you," and had been left in places like on the closet door, on the bathroom mirror - somewhere where Harry was sure to see them. He had forgotten that Draco left a handful of them around the house for Harry to find every time he had to travel for work.

It was always something. If it wasn't the notes, it would have been something else. Everything he did, all his little idiosyncrasies made him special. Made him Draco.

Before it had been packed up, the garbage can in the den had been full of crumpled papers. All failed attempts at writing Draco a letter before Harry was to leave town on Auror business. Whether it had been to ask him to come back, tell him he missed him, or even just to say hi, Harry could never seem to get the words right. They all started the same, with lines like "Dear Draco, I miss you..." or "Dear Draco, I know you're probably busy…"

Regardless of the words in Harry's letters, they all carried the same message. They all asked him to come back, put their differences aside, and give things another chance. Anyone reading them could have interpreted the words into the same sad thought. Anyone would have known that Harry was still desperately in love with Draco, just from his carefully chosen sentences.

Although some may have secretly thought he was being dramatic, or over-reacting, he knew otherwise. He knew that what they had was different, and something like that didn't come along every day. Harry didn't know if Draco felt the same. He didn't even know if Draco knew he still felt like this. He doubted it though.

"I love you, Draco." Great. Now he was talking to himself. With the way he was headed, he'd have himself committed in no time. "I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It won't stop. It won't go away. I can't turn it off, and I'm not in control anymore. It's killing me." He pushed the box aside as tears slipped from under his lashes. "I want things back the way they were. I want youback. I don't want to move on. I can't move on. I don't want to leave..."

"Then don't."

/Do you care if I
Don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight
Will you think of me
Will I shake this off
Pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there
Who feels just like me
There is/

The voice he had heard in his head so many times before, in every dream and every memory, but never out loud. It couldn't be him, could it? It had to be. Even though his mind was spinning, Harry knew that even his imagination wouldn't play that cruel a trick on his heart, which was struggling to comprehend what it had just heard.

He turned to see Draco. He had so many things he wanted to say, but even more went unsaid. Speechless and awestruck, all he could do was stand and stare.

The moment he had been waiting for, for so long, and now he didn't know how to handle it, what to do, what to say, or much else for that matter. Why was he here? Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he talking? A million silent questions asked, and a million and one unanswered. Signals went unread. Sweat was forming around his temples, and he silently cursed his nerves. Neither was blinking. Time seemed to freeze around them.

Staring into the grey of Dracos eyes, Harry felt himself slip away to a place where nothing else mattered. A place he used to know so well, but thought had disappeared from existence. This, this was what it was all about. He wanted to tell him everything, and question his motives for coming there. But at the same time, he wanted to say nothing at all. All he could do, was watch Draco's eyes watch his own.

The world consisted of the two of them, and nothing else. For the moment, there were no problems, no issues, no curiosity, nothing. Just Harry and Draco. Draco and Harry. Just like it had been. Just like it should be.

/Do you care if I
Don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight
Will you think of me
Will I shake this off
Pretend it's all okay
That there's someone out there
Who feels just like me/

"You're here," he observed. He stood in front of Draco, his voice shaky, palms sweaty. He always was one to point out the obvious.

Draco nodded, agreeing and stepping forward, leaving only inches between them. "I - I had this whole speech practiced - What I would say, how I would say it..." His voice was just as shaky as Harry's, his nervousness showing as his voice betrayed him. "But seeing you, Harry, and actually having the chance to recite the lines I rehearsed, words almost seem inappropriate. Like they're not enough..."

"I miss you." Another thing Harry was known for, was speaking without thinking first.

"I love you..."

"...So much." He finished Draco's sentence, and leaned forward slightly, capturing Draco's lips with his own, granting them both what they had wanted for so long. He pulled away, and rested his head on Draco's shoulder, fighting tears while silent sobs shook and racked his body.

"Shh," Draco soothed. "It's okay now. For the first time in a long time, everything's okay."

It took a minute for what was being said to him to register. The word 'okay' had previously been a cop-off he used when he didn't want people to know that they were seeing a front. Inside, he had been breaking down. Everything really wasokay though. Sure, they had a lot of talking to do, but that was the last thing on his mind. The only thing he could focus on, was engraving everything about that moment in his head. He breathed in Draco's scent. The way he smelled intoxicated him.

Harry knew now, that he wouldn't be able to go through that again. He couldn't take the guilt, the self-loathing, the disappointment, the loneliness... He had failed at the time, to notice that Draco's eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in a year, his blond hair was disheveled, and he was swimming in his jeans and blue t-shirt. Maybe, just maybe, he had felt the same way.

He found it ironic that throughout all Draco's bad days and insecurities, he had been the strong one picking him up and holding him together. Now, as Harry spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'll never let you go, Draco. Please don't leave me."

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

Harry clung to Draco as tight as he could. He had his left arm around his neck, and the other around his waist, his chin resting on the taller man's shoulder. "Can I tell you something?"

Draco kissed his ear and smiled, knowing what was coming. "Anything."

"I love you."

"I love you more." He recited the lines he remembered saying before, seemingly so long ago.

"You mean it?"

Draco pulled back, and rested his hands on Harry's hips, as Harry's hands found the back of his head and his fingers ran through his hair. He looked into Harry's eyes, so different from the colour of his own. He had always preferred Harry's over his. "I swear it."

"Tell me it's real," Harry pleaded. "Tell me I won't wake up and have this end. I couldn't do it again, Draco. I can't live without you."

Draco leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was fuelled by all the passion and loneliness from the previous month. His tongue explored the familiar space of Harry's mouth, letting him know just how much he had missed him. The truth was, he couldn't even remember why they had broken up. When they pulled away, Draco realized that from then on, life without Harry would be impossible. "You won't have to. And you never will."

"Then it's not a dream?"

"If it was a dream, I'd never wake up. But it's not a dream. I've never felt anything so real in my life, and I'm not about to let it go. I'm not about to let you go."

Harry smiled, and rested his head on Draco's shoulder, who in turn rested his head upon Harry's. "Come with me." He laced his fingers through Draco's, and led him out of the room and down the stairs. They reached the front door, and Harry opened it and led him onto the porch, closing the door behind them.

"It's raining."

Harry smiled again. "I realize that."

"Nice parking job, by the way." He laughed. "And your lights are still on."

He chuckled along with Draco. He had backed his car into the two-car driveway, on a diagonal. He led Draco out from under the shelter of the awning, and into the pouring rain. Hand in hand, Harry took Draco over to the curb where his headlights shone, the light bouncing off the tiny droplets, making them look like sparks falling from the sky. "Sit."

Not questioning Harry's command, Draco sat down on the curb. He was already soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead, partially covering his eyes, so he didn't notice as the water soaked through his jeans when he sat down. He held an arm out for Harry, and smiled at the more than welcome familiarity as he slid down beside him. Draco placed his arm around Harry's shoulder and pulled him closer, as Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist.

An older looking woman with an umbrella walked hurriedly past them carrying a grocery bag. She looked to be about fifty. Her grey hair was pulled back into a bun, and her purple skirt fell past her knees.

"Hello, Mrs. Mackenzie." Harry smiled at the woman. "Quite the weather we're having, isn't it?"

She didn't answer; she just glared at the two of them, turned on her heel, and went stomping off through the storm.

The two of them looked at each other and laughed. Harry moved closer to Draco, and couldn't help but marvel at how perfect everything felt. There was much to be worked through, but for the moment, none of it mattered. They spent the remainder of the night catching up and laughing, simply because they could.

When the cars in the driveways around them started to pull away, they made their way back inside, up the stairs, and collapsed on the bed. Their bed. Just like the way they used to. Just the way it should be.

Fin

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear what you thought!