HP Theorem Combustion

Movement 2: Agitato

Home again. Refrain most pleasing. Armchair shags and snogs in the kitchen. Touching Harry wherever and whenever possible. It's a disease he's got; there's no cure. He's happy; they're happy. Harry's busy but then so is he. Bloody workaholics. Mum pops in, Teddy's in and out like a bloody jack-in-the-box with Aunt Andromeda; Pans is demanding something from the foyer floo and he can't find his new broom. Where's Harry?

"So, Draco."

"Yes, Mum?"

"…so, when exactly are you and Harry planning on—"

"Mum, don't ask. Please."

"Draco, really! I'm just curious, darling, you know that."

"Yes, Mum. Just don't go button-holing Harry—you promised you wouldn't do that after last time, remember?"

"Well…time's passing, darling. You're not getting any younger—"

"I know, Mum. Look, just drop it—"

"And Harry's such a nice boy. One can see that he's serious—"

"Yes, Mum. So am I, so just stop, please. We'll get to it."

"Of course you will, dear boy—the question is when. I'm not getting any younger—"

"Mum! Look, I can't force this—"

"…No. I understand that, Draco, but in my opinion—"

"Please. Please, just stop, Mum."

*

"Well, I must say I'm very sorry to hear that, Malfoy."

"Yes, well."

"Especially since I'm losing both of you at once. It's a crying shame, if you ask me. So…are you sure…?"

"Yes."

"Er…right, then. And I guess this isn't up for discussion, is it? You've made up your minds?"

"The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall seem to believe we're needed there, sir. We can hardly refuse."

"Of course you can refuse! Damn it, Malfoy, I've never once known you to do a single thing you didn't want to do in the first place! This is all about Harry, isn't it?"

"Not at all, sir. I made my own decision."

"Humph! So you say! And how does young Weasley feel about this?"

"I'm sure I can't tell you that, sir. You may want to check with Potter."

"Disappointed, I suppose. I know I am. Well…far be it from me to get in Snape's way, much less Minerva's, but….Draco."

"Sir?"

"If it doesn't work out, for any reason—any reason at all—you can always come back to the Aurors. Both of you. Door's always open."

"…Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

He wishes he'd never shagged that French bloke. One mindless month in how many years of monogamy and he knew Harry never forgot it. One more fuck-up on the list.

He wishes they'd left the hideous Ikea couch in Gibraltar—thank Merlin it wouldn't fit in their tiny little drawing room at Hogwarts.

He wishes Grainger and Weasley would get on with it and tie the knot before Molly had a hemorrhage. Set a good example for the rest of them, perhaps. Set Harry's undisciplined brain strolling down the path to commitment…but then again, maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea.

He wishes he could manage to look at Oliver Wood in the face without wanting to flay him alive. How dare Harry hook up with someone they both knew?! Unconscionable! Even if it was over, long over, Draco knew Wood hadn't let go of Potter. Draco could see it in Wood's greedy little eyes, the way they followed Harry always, never straying. It had been ages now since Harry dropped him—more than a year after Draco received his double Firsts in Arithmomancy and Transfigurations—and still he tracked Harry 'round the room whenever they ran across Wood socially…as if Potter was Wood's personal Golden Snitch or his Boy That Got Away or some such romantic codswallop. At least Draco had the presence of mind to keep his constant gaze covert and mostly hidden. At least he'd had the good manners to confess his unfortunate lapse immediately.

"A mistake. Oliver was—I shouldn't have, Draco—I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was lonely—I wasn't thinking. Can you…will you…forgive me?"

"Harry!" He was off the settee so fast he raised a cloud of dust from his passing.

"Harry! Of course I forgive you! Nothing to forgive, right? I mean...I mean, I did the same thing with Yves, didn't I? And you didn't hold it against me. Not once—you just. Just. And I love you, Harry. Only you. Nothing's ever going to change that, love. Nothing. Those—those people— they were just…just physical, right? Just bodies. 'Cause we were apart too long. This…what we have…this is real, Harry. I don't want to lose this."

"Y-Yes."

"Yes! Yes, it is, Harry! You know I'm right, so. So, we should just say no more about it, alright? Not a word. It doesn't matter, so. So. Just forget it. Forget them. It's over and we're still together. We'll always be together."

"Yeah….Draco, that's. Yes. I-I mean I want…that, b-but, Draco?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is it really? Really that…easy?"

"Merlin, yes, love. Do you think people never make mistakes? That they can't be forgiven? Do you think I can manage without you in my life now? That I ever could? Don't you know how much I—Harry, Harry. I don't want to lose you over something so fucking stupid, Harry. I can't. And that's all this was, wasn't it? Unless—"

"No! I'm not doing that again, Draco. No way in Hades am I ever, ever doing that again! Oliver was—Not. Ever. Again. You. You j-just have to trust me, Draco. Please—I never meant—"

"Shhh! Shhh. Stop—it's alright, it's alright, Harry. Just stop—I trust you; I always trust you; always will. Don't doubt that, love; don't ever doubt it, hmm? You're all the world to me, Harry. All the world."

*

He hated that couch. Should've incendio'd it the moment Harry had said he was sorry. Should've incendio'd Wood, too, for taking advantage. For simply existing. Dirty bastard.