{[(Soo... This isn't my first fan ficion. On the other hand, it's the first I've posted. I'm considering writing a sequel or second chapter that's based around Draco or Harry talking to Draco after two decades. Ohh, and this is taking the epilouge in consideration, so Lily, Albus, and James are still Ginny's and Harry's kids. I wrote this because I was wondering 'Well, what would happen if Draco and Harry had a secret love life that got ripped apart by some action on one of theirs part. This is all writen with everything in the books, exept perhaps Harry's glomping on Ginny fifth year...
Hope you like it! Reviews would be great. Sequel or no?)]}
Harry sighed softly, running his fingers through his unruly black hair. Glancing around the dark room, he was reminded of a time not so long ago, a time that seemed like an entirely different lifetime. He stood, careful not to wake a sleeping Ginny as he rose from the bed, but the movement brought back a memory of rising from another bed, with a different figure slumbering peacefully. Picking up his glasses, Harry walked out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Memories welled up inside of him, threatening to drown him the same as they did every year when the seasons began changing from summer to fall. Unlocking the front door, Harry stepped outside into the soft breeze. It wasn't quite chilly, but it wasn't warm either, as goose bumps began rising on the mans skin. Thirty-six years, and only two of them brought back memories that haunted Harry more than the ones from his fights as a teen.
Eleven years without knowing anything about them, four years spent hating, detesting, loathing, then one year, trying to figure it out, slowly coming to terms. The next year, fully accepted, only to have it torn away, and every year after that, reminiscing as he did now. Harry strolled peacefully, not attracting any attention to himself by staying in the shadows.
His children left tomorrow for Hogwarts, but Lily would stay behind, like she would until two years time. Harry smiled feebly to himself. How fleeting, how fast, a year could go by, and how long one would wish they could relive it time and time again, or change one small event. But any action, no matter how seemingly small, always had a reaction, some that were minor. Others were horribly impossible to control, as you stood, watching it spiral away.
Twenty years ago, Harry did something he wished he could erase, but was forever stuck with the reminder that it couldn't change. Sure, his life was happy, content as he grew to an old age, with three children and a wife. But at times like now, when memories threatened to swamp him, he realized it could have been and entirely different life had he made a different choice twenty years ago.
"Twenty years…" Harry murmured softly to himself. "I've held on to it for twenty years now. Two decades." It seemed to Harry so long, and he knew he would only continue to remember as he aged even more. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Harry hunched over against a particularly strong, cold gust of wind, reminding him of a time under a cloak, with snow laid out freshly on the ground.
One handful of mud and snow had sent them into a frenzy, Harry laughing until he was discovered. This memory brought about another, a time in front of the same shrieking shack, with the same person he had sent scurrying away, in the dead of night, just walking. Walking, without words, letting the silence speak for both of them. Then, later that week, a time spend at the lakeshore, hidden just inside the forbidden forest, sharing secrets of hunger and passion.
Harry swallowed, blinking back dry tears. Never again would he relive those few moments of stolen time. Only through his memories would he ever have the same experiences of greedy kisses. The time he had spent with them, it had been fleeting, both trying to not to let anyone else on, grinding teeth at the jeers soon forgotten in the dead of night, with hushed whispers of apologies.
The room of requirement had more uses than just for the DA. Many more, some more perverse than others, opening up places to hide and spend stolen nights, filled with pain and pleasure. Harry should have known it wouldn't have lasted, not with the way things went outside those golden moments, and yet, he couldn't have imagined a life other than the one they had made together.
Harry stopped, surprised he had already come full circle in his reminiscing. His house loomed a block down the street, and he sighed, shaking his head. His feet always carried him faster than his mind would prefer. Breathing in the cold, crisp air, Harry turned away from his normal refuge, back to the streets, not yet ready to return.
Every action he had led to another string of memories unleashed, and now, his turning away from the warmth of his home, where he knew Ginny would be waiting for him, either in bed or with a mug of coffee, let another torrent of recollections free. Over the summer, a thrill of excitement as a figure stood out front in the middle of the night. Racing to greet them without waking the Dursleys. And as always, more walking, sometimes with words, others with clasped hands, and often with stops for a stolen kiss.
But now, his memoirs turned darker, filled with the shouts and calls for help as dark, red blood pooled around Harry. Fear, constricting in his chest, suffocating him worse than even Nagini would have a change. Crazed thoughts racing through his mind, planning his death if anything happened to them by Harrys own hands, hands that were covered in their blood. Panic choking out everything else other than saving them, and dying if he couldn't.
One simple action, by one simple disagreement, one small spat as the two's allegiances collided, and suddenly, everything they had built came crashing down. It had been inevitable, at the time, with one siding on the opposite side of the other, even if neither truly had a choice. Never again, after that, did they truly speak to each other, did they even look in the others eye for longer than a millisecond, when before they could stare for hours on end.
It was Harry's fault, for both believing it could work out, and for being so stupid as to use a spell that could have killed, for all Harry knew. But then, he had been a stupid, reckless teen, driven by an insane want, desire, and need to save the world, one that, eventually, came to fruition. Unlike his dream to live happily ever after in a relationship that would only be regarded as disgusting, crude, and could possibly end a few of his friendships.
Exhaling sharply, Harry let his nails bite into the flesh of his palm, reminding himself not to be to harsh. He had always known, deep in the back of his mind, that it wouldn't work. It was probably best that things had unfolded the way they had. And yet, Harry still sometimes longed, like he did now, to be able to entwine his fingers, in soft, pale hair. To embrace the other boy in his arms, and never let go. To trace patterns on a body he knew just as well as his own. Faintly, he could recall the intoxicating scent and taste of his once-lover, a wildly tame symphony of tangy evergreen and gentle campfire smoke. Delicious in Harry's mind.
Harry closed his eyes, calling up the sharp features that had softened in Harry's memory over time. The sharp but soothing drawl of his voice, and the eyes that glittered so brilliantly with an overflow of emotions. Boredom, devilishness, lust, desire, hunger, passion, hatred, compassion, pain, amusement. So many different feelings portrayed so beautifully, if had seemed like an art to Harry at the time.
Sighing, Harry cut through a neighbor's yard, deciding it was time to go home. He exhaled softly, listening as a dog began barking in the distance, probably left out over the night, or returning home after escaping earlier that day. The black haired man stopped at the doorway, gazing quietly at the door. The goose bumps on his arms now had less to do with the cold then they did with his recallings of distant memories.
Harry shook off the lingering feelings of regret, hoping to leave them at the door, as he did every year, but knowing that he would fail. They would find him again, but until then, Harry would be content. He closed the door softly, and removed his shoes, the ones he had slipped on easily before he left.
"I thought you would be out there." Spoke a voice, soft, gentle, amused, and compassionate. Ginny knew why Harry had taken his midnight stroll. Walking up to him, she pressed a warm mug into his hands, and smiled gently. "You still miss him, don't you?" she asked, leading Harry to the kitchen, where the light was on.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, but you didn't have to get out of bed because I have a hard time letting go." He said softly, careful not to wake the kids.
Ginny sighed gently. "I was awake the moment you sat up, and I knew what you were thinking about the moment you got up to leave." She murmured, picking up a mug of her own. Harry shrugged, taking a sip from his own. She shook her head. "You should talk to him, damn it. Twenty years, and you haven't said anything to each other. Twenty god damned years!" she said, raising the hairs on Harry's neck without raising her voice.
Harry sighed softly. "It's more complicated than that…" he trailed off, knowing Ginny was right.
"Your such a fool." Ginny said softly.
"I was a fool then. I'm less of a fool now." Harry said in response. He smiled anyways, glad he didn't have to keep secrets from Ginny. She almost always helped him with sorting through his thoughts, and it helped that she knew what went on in his thoughts. The list of people who knew about Harry, and his involvements with Draco, was small, including Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Hermione. Ron only suspected.
Ginny smiled, and picked up Harry's hand, which he had laid on the table. "You've always been a fool." She said affectionately.
Harry shrugged. "Maybe so." He said, grasping Ginny's palm gently between his fingers. "Let's go to bed?" he suggested softly. Ginny rose with him, and silently, they made their way to their bedroom.
As Harry settled himself beneath the covers, his glasses on the table, he sighed inwardly, closing his eyes. One seemingly simple spell. Years of reflection.
Yeah. Sectusempra had sorta ruined his relationship with his rival, and his lover.