Chapter 3: The Way Out
The rest of the afternoon crept by. Predictably, Draco was interrogated by Father, but he was too wound up from his encounter with Potter earlier and the thought of what he was going to do that evening to really pay much attention to the threats. He spent the day drinking tea and walking the Manor grounds, debating whether or not he wanted to pass on or remain behind as a ghost. The countryside was beautiful this time of year and it tempted him sorely.
Draco hadn't yet made a decision when he retired to his rooms later that evening. He put on his fanciest set of robes, choosing to meet Death in style, and combed his hair before settling himself on his bed and pulling out the vial of potion. It was viscous and murky, making Draco think of the War and the darkness he'd never been able to leave behind.
Finally, after moments of twisting it around and around in his hands, he uncorked the glass and heavily restrained himself from giving it a sniff. There was no need for a reminder of just how foul the potion was. Draco reached around for the trousers he was wearing earlier and extracted the asphodel, taking care not to spill the vial. He wasn't going to be allowed to leave the house again because Father had already taken all the necessary precautions.
This was it, then. Without allowing himself time to reconsider, Draco tossed back the vial and drained it, immediately chasing the potion with the crunchy root. It wasn't unheard of for asphodel to change texture with time without losing potency, so Draco didn't worry that the root was hard and grainy instead of rather chewy.
Immediately, he could feel his body shutting down and a fog settling in, encasing his mind protectively. All feeling and worries fell away for the first time; leaving Draco's head clearer than it had ever been in his life. He was only of a lingering need to breathe, nothing else. Eventually, his mind adjusted to the darkness, revealing the nuances of grayscale shades and depths around him. Draco had always wondered if there was really a tunnel. Now, at least, he was imagining one, even if it didn't really exist. And at the very end, there was indeed a light.
Half of him expected the light to never come closer, as if he was a hallucinating about a lemonade stand in the middle of the desert. But as his imagined body confidently strode down the chamber, walking towards the blinding light as if it was the North Star, Draco saw it becoming larger and larger until he was eventually consumed by it.
He expected to fall away, to lose consciousness and awareness simultaneously. Of course, there was always the other option, which Draco had always refused to think about when he was alive. If his life was already a living hell, what right did some deity have to make him spend an eternity there?
But then the light retreated from inside of him, instead floating back in front of him, as equally bright as before, to coalesce into a solid wooden door.
Draco blinked in confusion, taking in the scene before him. There was no residual feeling from the light, so he supposed it hadn't done any damage. He waited a couple of minutes before concluding that the only option was to pass through the door.
Walking forward, he grasped the handle and pulled, ready to step into the unknown. Or maybe there was another surprise in store for him.
Instead of ending up in the deepest layer of Hell, Draco suddenly found himself standing in a bedroom with half red décor and half green. It was very strange, especially considering how the split colors extended to nearly everything in the room, even the soft duvet covering the bed.
He took a moment to orient himself. All of the feeling had returned to his limbs, but there was no way to shake the lingering feeling that this was not Death.
"Draco!" exclaimed a voice. "Blimey, I've been looking all over for you."
A hand clapped down on his shoulder, causing Draco to jump in alarm. He spun around only to be met by Potter's smiling eyes and ruffled hair.
"I know you don't want go," Potter said, taking a step closer and loosely wrapping his arms around Draco's neck. "But if you do," he whispered mischievously, "I'll be sure to make it worth your while." He was taken by surprise as Potter leaned even closer and pressed his lips to Draco's, conveying emotion with a depth Draco hadn't thought Potter was capable of doing.
Since this was clearly a dream there was no reason not to take full advantage of this nicer and more affectionate Potter. Draco kissed Potter back, playfully mussing up Potter's dark locks.
"Hey," he protested, though without feeling. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."
Draco reeled him back in, hugging Potter close to his chest. Somehow, somewhere, the gods had taken pity on him. They'd given him his deepest desire, fulfilled every one of his longings from the past few years. It would definitely be a shame when they became vengeful and took it all away after they'd had their fun.
Potter wrenched himself out of the embrace, muttering about how Draco was so "impatient" and always "insatiable." Wondering whether or not he should be offended, Draco was taken aback as a jumper (green and red, because of course) came flying at his head.
"Surely you're not expecting me to wear this?" he asked, revolted, as he spoke for the first time.
"You do remember our deal, right?"
He frowned. "Remind me?"
"Have you been hitting the Christmas whiskey already?" snorted Potter.
"Seriously, Potter, pray tell."
"Back to Potter, are we now?"
"Harry," huffed Draco, "What exactly was our agreement?"
Potter shook his head. "Seriously, Draco. This must not be as important to you as I thought it was." He left the room, leaving Draco confused and alone in the room with the Christmas jumper.
Draco sighed. He didn't need an omnipresent being to fuck up his life; he could do that fine himself, thank you very much. There wasn't anything for it. He pulled off the plain black T shirt that had somehow found its way onto his body and reconciled himself to the jumper.
The living room, thankfully, was tastefully decorated in peaceful colors Draco could have picked out himself, should he have had a room to decorate. He nodded in approval, noticing Potter standing in a position of defeat over by the fireplace.
Though his relationship with Potter had been tumultuous, at best, Draco felt a wavering pang of guilt. He walked over to Potter and gently folded him into a reverse hug, nuzzling into the tender skin of Potter's ear.
"I'm sorry," Draco breathed. "Let's go. Heaven help us if we're late."
Potter relaxed into Draco's touch, turning his head around so their eyes locked. "Do you mean it?" he asked.
Draco could see the vulnerability behind the simple question. There was only one correct answer to such a plea. "Of course," he said reassuringly. Potter's – no, Harry's – eyes softened then and Draco knew he'd made the right call. "It's important to me too. Come on, Harry."
Before he could keep up the soothing efforts, Harry spun around and launched himself at Draco, crushing their lips together in a passion Draco hadn't thought he'd ever be exposed to again. "God, I want you," said Harry softly. "But we have to leave. You're right; I never want to be exposed to Molly's wrath again."
Reluctantly, he released Draco and grasped for the Floo powder on the mantle. "See you there," Harry said, still facing the fireplace. After a quick call of "the Burrow!" he was gone.
Draco had no hesitation. He snatched up some powder and tossed it to his feet, determined to follow Potter to the ends of the Earth if that was what it took. Not too long ago, he would have definitely categorized anywhere with a Weasley firmly into that category.
Suddenly, everything around him was blurring and the Floo Network was spinning him in a totally different direction even as Draco reached frantically for his destination.
When he was finally flung out in an entirely new grate, Draco coughed and tried to get a hold of himself. He was filled with an otherworldly sense of panic at losing Potter, even though their relationship had only existed within a dream.
To his very surprise, he landed in the foyer of a very nice house. The inside décor was overwhelmingly decorated according to his taste, and Draco had to marvel with how perfectly it seemed to represent him with a good dose of Harry's more quaint and charming tendencies thrown in.
"Draco!" Harry's voice echoed from the other room. "Merlin, what kept you so long? Was there a line at the store?"
He wandered into the living room, noticing that he was now wearing a very posh summer suit and holding a bottle of Odgen's best Firewhiskey. "Naturally," he replied smoothly, immediately noticing the company adorning what he presumed was their living room. As Harry crossed over to collect the bottle, Draco greeted his old friends. "Hello, Pansy, Blaise." It was never part of his expectations to see them again in his natural lifetime. And judging by Harry's appearance, this was in the next couple of years after the first glimpse.
"Draco," boomed Blaise, rising immediately to grasp Draco's hand enthusiastically. He'd always appreciated Blaise's strong gestures of posterity and poise. "It's been too long." With every bit of social decorum he possessed, Draco refrained from making a comment about why their friendship had been estranged for so long.
He turned to greet Pansy next, pleased despite himself when she flung herself off of the couch and into his arms. "Hello, darling," she cooed. "You're looking simply splendid, you know. Seems like Potter's been good for you after all."
Draco didn't have to make eye contact with Harry to tell how offended he was from Pansy's comment. Fortunately, he seemed to have developed some manners over the years and kept his mouth shut. But it simply wouldn't do to have his boyfriend insulted in their very house.
"Harry's been wonderful to me over the years," Draco said, keeping the defensive tone firmly out of his voice. "I simply must confess," he said, with a teasing tone of confidentiality as he leaned closer to his old friends, "That I think we're quite ready for the next step in our relationship."
On the other side of the room, Harry practically glowed, and Draco gave him a secret smile, conveying that he'd meant every word.
Though Pansy's face initially fell, she covered her disbelief nicely by congratulating the couple and Blaise swiftly followed suit. They spent the evening reminiscing about old times at Hogwarts and mutual acquaintances, never once touching on the War or the more difficult moments when they'd ditched Draco after years of friendship.
Harry didn't say much, but Draco was profoundly grateful for his supporting presence and (surprisingly) calm aura. After a couple of hours, he pointedly ushered the former Slytherins out into the foyer, retrieving their coats as preparation to send them on their way.
Draco had never been so happy to have someone buffering his social interaction with people he'd once have entrusted not his life, but some very valuable material possessions to.
"Thank Merlin that's over with," Harry breathed as they finally shut the door behind Blaise and Pansy.
"I probably don't tell you this enough, but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," Draco breathed, overcome with feeling for Harry.
"Oh, shut up, you great git," laughed Harry. "I think you told me that last night." But as a sign the gesture hadn't gone unnoticed, he pulled Draco into a hug and softly caressed the nape of Draco's neck. He appreciated how Harry didn't make a huge deal about his moments of vulnerability.
There was a sound from across the other room and Ron Weasley's voice was calling out, "Have those Slytherin wankers finally left yet?"
"Nope," Draco called back. "I'm still here."
"We're coming through!"
Five seconds later, Granger and the Weasel were climbing out of their fireplace, hastily dusting off the ash.
"Malfoy, mate, you know I didn't mean you," the Weasel said, a nervous lilt to his voice. His body language suggested that their relationship had gotten past old animosities, but they were still careful around each other.
"Weasley, I was just fucking with you," Draco said casually, watching Harry and Granger for clues about how this interaction should go.
"Good," said the Weasel with relief, clapping Draco on the shoulder. "Glad to see that you haven't clawed out the eyes of those unsavory characters."
Draco smirked. "Oh, how your vocabulary continues to improve over time."
"I think they're flirting," Granger said to Harry. "Should we be worried?"
Before Harry had a chance to answer, the Weasel said impatiently, "You look like you could use a game of chess, Malfoy. Or at least I could. Get the Firewhiskey?"
"You're on," said Draco. "You have nothing to worry about, love," he reassured Harry, kissing his cheek.
Harry just shook his head as Draco settled himself in with the Weasel around their deluxe chess board and started setting up the black pieces, reveling in how his friend's eyes were glinting with challenge. They played long into the night, stopping only after Granger came over and insisted on having a word with Draco about the effect a particular potion might have on healing certain skin conditions of her patients. He was rather delighted to give his opinion and rambled on enthusiastically, not noticing Harry staring at him fondly from the sofa.
It seemed like he had friends, albeit not the ones he'd thought he'd have, in the future after all.
After the Weasel and Granger finally escorted themselves home, Harry pounced on Draco. "I need to have you right here, right now," he growled, pawing at Draco's still-immaculately buttoned dress shirt and tie.
Draco responded immediately, pulling Harry on top of him in the chair he'd spent the second half of the evening talking to Hermione in. He relished the feeling of Harry's sinewy back muscles, gently massaging them as Harry gasped under his touch.
"How do you want me?" he whispered into Harry's neck, nuzzling gently but in a way that assured Harry he meant business.
"Inside me," Harry breathed back, flushing enough to assure Draco he wasn't comfortable asking for this. Most likely, Draco usually bottomed in their relationship. He didn't mind the change of pace, delighted that Harry trusted him enough to allow him access to the deepest part of himself.
"I'll make it good for you, love," Draco breathed back, surprised as the terms of endearment just naturally slipped out.
"You always do, Draco," Harry chuckled lightly. "Now carry me to bed."
He wasn't overly heavy, but Draco couldn't resist poking fun at him as he completely guessed at the way to their bedroom and somehow got lucky when he found it on the first try.
"You great oaf," he said fondly, carefully depositing Harry on the bed. Draco climbed on top of him, pinning Harry's hands above his hands and kissing the smile off of his serene face. Having not had the benefit of the years of sex they'd surely been having, Draco made educated guesses at what Harry would like. It did help that he could remember the one time they'd been together, but he didn't merely want it to be good, he wanted to blow Harry's mind.
He kissed his way down Harry's chest, flicking his tongue gently over Harry's nipples. It seemed as though Harry was even more sensitive there than he'd remembered. Eventually he made his way to Harry's cock, sliding his tongue along it teasingly with more finesse than he'd expected to have. Harry looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, pressing into Draco's mouth with every lick though he was clearly doing his best not to thrust down Draco's throat.
When Draco felt as though Harry was sufficiently teased, he lubed up his fingers and pressed against Harry's rim, gently massaging the outer ring of muscle and listening to Harry's resulting gasps. "Come on already," Harry moaned. "Get on with it."
Draco responded by swallowing around his cock, pressing the first finger in as Harry reacted in surprise and pleasure. He felt around for the prostate, feeling Harry tighten around him with inexperience and stress. "Shh," he said, repositioning himself so that he could kiss and reassure Harry. "It'll feel good soon, I promise."
Draco retrieved his finger and added more moisture before pressing back into Harry. He kissed him thoroughly, paying attention to a spot on his neck he remembered Harry liking during their time in the forest together. It seemed to work; he could see the tension leaving Harry's and feel him relaxing the longer Draco continued to finger him. He added a second finger, using the increased motor control to explore until he finally brushed up against the prostate and Harry positively whined with pleasure. "Draco – now," he moaned. "I need you right now."
He knew Harry would definitely feel a burn without a little more prep, but thought he could make it bearable. Slicking his cock to the point where it looked like he'd already come, Draco lined himself up with Harry's hole and started pushing in, kissing his lover and reassuring him continually so that he didn't clench and cause unnecessary pain. Only when he was buried balls-deep in Harry did Draco allow himself to finally feel the pleasure of being encased in such a tight space. Even as pleasure ran through him while he began gently thrusting, Draco preferred bottoming. The one part he did appreciate was getting to show Harry the part of sex he loved so much.
The incredible closeness and love that ran between them was definitely an added bonus as well.
Draco thoroughly enjoyed reducing Harry to an incoherent mess to the point of where he was begging Draco to go faster and harder. He could only oblige his lover, nipping wildly at Harry's neck and squeezing his cock in synch to try to send him over the edge. After only a couple minutes, it worked, and Harry clenched madly around his cock as he came in spurts across his and Draco's stomachs. Overcome by the sight of Harry finally losing control and the immense pressure on this cock, Draco followed suit. His vision blurred even as he buried himself in Harry, leaning down to nuzzle into his lover's neck as he thrust deep.
Too soon, it was over, and Draco came back to his senses enough to find Harry lovingly carding his fingers through his hair. "Did I live up to my promise?" Draco asked huskily, too chuffed to even consider being annoyed about the mess his hair surely was now.
"Most definitely," Harry said agreeably, pulling Draco in for a slow, passionate kiss.
"Mm, good," he said, sliding out of Harry and rolling over to let himself be spooned. They cuddled, more comfortable after Harry finally cast a wordless Cleaning Charm, and enjoyed the post-coital bliss that Draco was sure followed every one of their encounters together. This was practically a no-risk environment, so Draco decided to take a chance. "I love you," he whispered, squeezing Harry's hand from where it was tucked around his waist.
"I love you too," Harry whispered back with zero hesitation. Comforted, Draco snuggled tighter into Harry's front and closed his eyes. Harry pulled him a little closer as well before relaxingly stroking Draco's forearm and murmuring gently in his ear.
Long before he wanted to, Draco was drifting off to sleep in Harry's arms.
When he woke up again, the first thing he noticed was his wedding ring. Somehow not surprised, Draco found that yet more time had passed when he rose from the bed and looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn't old, not by a long shot, but there were the slightest traces of laugh lines in his face and around his eyes. It was amusing to think that he smiled and laughed enough to even have these lines.
"Good, you're up," said Harry, entering their bedroom. He was dressed somberly, wearing a matching wedding ring, and Draco wondered if they were going to a funeral. "I know it's going to be a hard day for you, but we'll get through it." Was one of his parents dead?
Taking cues from Harry, Draco showered and dressed himself in respectful black dress clothing. He allowed Harry to coax him into eating breakfast before they left, content to be Side-Alonged to wherever the gravesite surely was.
Harry brought a blanket and Draco thought nothing of it until they'd arrived at the cemetery. If it was one of his parents buried six feet under, there was nothing going to keep him here all day presumably having a conversation with them. Surprisingly, his feet walked in synch with Harry's to the grave as if he'd been here many times before.
Finally the moment of truth came. They stopped in front of a granite grave marker, and Draco braced himself as he leaned forward to read the name on the stone. Draco Malfoy, the heading read. A devastating pang went through his chest, but Harry caught him in a rough hug as he went to turn around.
"Draco, love," he soothed. "You're here. We have a happy life together. There's nothing to regret anymore."
He clutched Harry harder, grasping at his neck as if it would provide him desperately needed security. But he was distracted by something underneath Harry's collar. Curious, Draco gently unbuttoned Harry's top button, ignoring his look of disapproval, and peeked underneath, gently pulling the familiar metal chain out of the shirt. To his utter surprise and disbelief, Harry was wearing the pendant he'd given him all of those years ago. The metal was slightly tarnished, but otherwise it was in perfect condition intact against Harry's skin.
"You kept it," he said with wonder, tracing his fingers down the line of Harry's jaw.
"Of course I kept it," Harry said. Draco could see tears forming in his deep green eyes. "I almost lost you forever the day you gave it to me."
"Do you only wear it on this anniversary?" Draco pressed, feeling unpleasant emotions start to take control.
Harry shook his head. "I've worn it every day for ten years," he said quietly. "I usually glamor it so you don't notice, but today I finally felt that you were ready to see it."
Draco kissed him, tears streaming down both of their faces. There was no other response, no expression of words that could properly describe the incredible love and gratitude he felt for this man. After all these years, Harry was still reminded of what Draco had almost done, had kept it with him as they went through their lives together. Draco wondered how many fights he'd intentionally conceded in an attempt to keep him feeling secure.
"Thank you," he whispered finally. "But I don't want you to treat me differently because of it. I never did."
"I haven't," Harry said, smiling through his tears. "I know what you're thinking, and no, I haven't let you win a single fight."
"What do you mean you know what I'm thinking?" Draco asked cautiously.
Harry snorted. "Really, for someone so observant you can be quite dense at times. I've been able to do Legilimency for the past decade, Draco. I read your mind that night. That's how I knew to Transfigure the asphodel root to prevent you from killing yourself."
"You've been reading my mind for the past ten years?!" Draco blurted.
"No, you absolute moron," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Only sometimes. You know how it works, don't you? Seeing as you've been reading my mind for at least that long. I can really only access your thoughts and emotions when your guard is down."
"And it was down that night, because it was my first time," Draco said, piecing it all together. "I'm surprisingly impressed that you knew how to alter that asphodel, Harry."
"How else was I supposed to get through to you?" Harry asked, a hint of desperation to his tone. I recognized that you were suicidal long before we met in the woods, but I knew there was really no other way to show you of what we'd both known for years unless you saw it with your own eyes."
"Even back then, you had such a good read on me," Draco admitted. "And here I thought you were a giant blubbering idiot half the time."
"I still am," Harry said, smiling wickedly. "Except something about you seems to make me better, Draco."
"I feel the same," said Draco, tucking the necklace back into Harry's shirt and rebuttoning his collar. "Please don't glamor it anymore. I want to be reminded on days that aren't my near-deathday anniversary."
"If you're sure," hedged Harry, taking Draco's hands in his own.
"I am," said Draco firmly. "But I want to take you somewhere else today. I think it's time to stop commemorating this. I want our life to focus on the present and the future instead of dwelling so much in the past."
"I can get onboard with that."
"Let's get out of here."
"Where are we going to go in funeral clothes?"
"Just wait and see."
He turned to Side-Along Harry to his favorite restaurant in Paris, but even as he tried his damndest to say in the moment, a force outside of his control was forcing Draco back to reality.
Groggily, he came back to consciousness in his own body in Malfoy Manor, where he had lain on the bed previously that evening and waited to die. There were no words for the overwhelming sense of shame that completely encased Draco as he thought about the life he might have missed out on living. But the closure he'd reached with Harry allowed him to begin forgiving himself for trying to take the actions he did.
The wedding was still planned and he was still living in this dank, dark space with an oppressive father and reluctant mother. He could never prosper here, could never be who he truly was. Instead of trying to kill himself as a way out, Draco reflected, he should have simply just left home. Even if he was disowned, it would be worth it.
In a manner of minutes, all of his most valuable possessions were packed. Hoping against hope that there were still establishments renting out rooms for the night, Draco summoned all of his magical strength and tore a hole in the Manor's wards so that he could Apparate out. Even as he felt Lucius reacting in alarm and anger, Draco didn't look back as he got the hell out of there.
Fortunately, a place to stay was taken care of with relative ease, nothing like the careful plotting and planning he'd been doing before. Draco situated himself and sat down to think about how he wanted the next chapter of his life to look. Even if it didn't involve Harry, Draco was going to make something of himself. He was going to find happiness wherever he could.
But there was the simple matter of Draco actually wanting Harry. He didn't have to have him; Harry wasn't tantamount to Draco recovering his self-esteem and drive, but he wanted him. Draco had the sneaking suspicion that Harry had designed the reaction so that he would see those specific glimpses. He now knew that they could make an actual go at this.
Even though it was late, even though he was quivering with excitement, and even though he didn't know if Harry would actually accept him, Draco went to the flat where, in the scenario, he and Harry had lived first. With courage he was determined to exercise, Draco reached up and knocked on Harry's door.