A/N: Felt like taking a a break from DWFNH. Kind of short, probably pretty stupid, too, but I felt like posting it. Be prepared for the strange way my mind works when I try to write sappy romance.

Never Again

Harry Potter fell in love once. It was in sixth year. At first he didn't know what the feeling was, but then it became painfully clear. He had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. He supposed that the line between love and hate was really was very thin. He wondered at the time why he always seemed to have the worst luck in everything. He was only sixteen, and was sure, however, that it would pass.

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It didn't.

Sixth year had finished, and his feelings were stronger than ever. He found himself watching Draco in the Great Hall whenever he was able. He would doze off in History of Magic only to dream of Draco. He would find his gaze drawn to him in any situation, no matter what else was happening. At times he could almost imagine that Draco was looking at him, too. But he couldn't be. He wouldn't. Harry dealt with his feelings and tried to move on. It was hard, but he was sure he could ignore his feelings.

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Draco kissed him once.

There was a dance, at the end of Seventh Year. Harry had gone alone, having found no girl whose hair compared to the brilliant white-gold of Draco's, or whose eyes could make him shiver the way that Draco's did, or who could reduce him to meaningless stuttering just by entering the room. He sat at a table in the corner, trying desperately to ignore the knot in his stomach he was getting from watching Pansy flirt shamelessly with Draco. He had danced with Ginny once, for appearances, and then returned to his lonely corner. He got a buzz on the punch, which someone had spiked. Finally, unable to take the sheer happiness that choked the room, he had left, and gone out to the grounds to clear his head. He was just in time to see Draco shove Pansy away, disgusted. She ran back to the dance in tears. Harry tentatively asked what was wrong, and was surprised when Draco answered him without malice. Their conversation lasted well into the night, and Harry was happier than he had been in a long time. When the dance was over, and they could just hear the first students leaving the Hall, Draco bid him goodnight, and then, slowly, almost nervously, stepped forward and kissed him. Harry, shocked, took a moment to respond, but returned the kiss woth fervor. Draco pulled away slowly and said something that even a slightly drunk Harry had no trouble understanding.

"This will never happen again."

And he walked away.

And it didn't happen again.

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Harry grew up. He graduated and got a job at the ministry, filing paperwork for the minister. He hated it, but it paid well, and his trust fund was running low. He was not a happy person, not anymore. Sometimes people wondered what had happened to him to turn him into the caustic, cynical person that he had become. He was angry often, and made more enemies than friends. When he was twenty-three, he became reacquainted with Cho Chang. She had matured, and blossomed. She was much more beautiful as a woman than she ever had been as a schoolgirl. She made it clear that she was interested, and Harry did what was expected. He asked her to go to dinner with him. Two years later, he asked her to marry him. It would have been a scandal if he had not made a move soon. They were married in June. Harry had no love for Cho. She was beautiful, but his heart belonged to another. Granted, the other had taken his heart and ripped it to pieces in front of him, but it was his nonetheless. Cho understood. She was content to love him as she did, and felt no need to force him to love her.

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Ten years. Ten years of what could almost pass for contentment. And he still considered one of the best moments in his entire life to be that kiss he'd shared with Draco, that night he was half drunk and confused. His wife-he still blinked in surprise when he thought of the fact that he had married Cho, if all people-was too kind to him. He had asked her to make one of the greatest commitments it was possible to make-to spend the rest of her life with him and him alone-knowing that he would never love her the way he had Draco. Draco, who had kissed him once and left him, heartbroken and alone, all those years ago. Why, he asked himself, would it still hurt like a fresh wound after all this time? Would it continue to hurt for the rest of his life? He also wondered how it was that Draco had stolen his heart in the first place, leaving him unable to give it to anyone else.

After ten and a half years of marriage, Harry and Cho decided on a quiet separation. They did not love each other, not the way a husband and wife should, and so they decided it would only cause harm to continue pretending they were the perfect couple.

Harry was not happy, but he was happier than was considered normal for a man who had just broken up with his wife. He took two weeks off, determined to spend the time getting absolutely wasted in the pub nearest to his flat.

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On the fifth day of his 'vacation', Draco Malfoy walked into the bar. Harry was ordering a drink. Draco sat next to him. Harry looked up at him strangely for a moment before downing half his drink in one gulp. Draco asked how many drinks he had had, and Harry responded that if he could still count, he was too sober. Draco nodded, and ordered a drink for himself. Harry finished off his drink and rose to leave. The situation had gotten uncomfortable. Draco grabbed him before he could go anywhere, though. He pulled him into the back of the bar and said that they needed to talk.

Harry was tired, drunk, and ready to go home. He snapped. He said everything he had wanted to say when he was sixteen, but was afraid to. He ranted. He delved into every sad detail about his disappointing life. His horrible job, his nonexistant marriage, aand the ever present threat of Voldemort hanging over his head. Draco was shocked at first. He had not known that one person could hold that much fury and self-hatred inside themselves for so long without it consuming them. Harry eventually ran out of steam, and simply collapsed onto the table, sobbing. He was drained, and he just wanted to go back to his small little flat and pass out. Draco looked at him for a long moment, considering. Then he lifted Harry's tear-stained face to his, and kissed him. Harry was taken aback, much as he had been the first time around. But, just as before, so many, many, years ago, or so it felt, he kissed him back.

"Are you going to leave this time?"

"No. Never again."

THE END