I'm quite happy that I've been able to find time to continue writing even though I've begun college. But I know once things really get going, I won't have much time. I'll still try to keep up with this story and update at least once a week, though!

So, this chapter is like an emotional rollercoaster. Happy, then sad, then a tab bit happy again. Enjoy!

Warnings – dramatic scenes


Empty Pages

Chapter Seven – You Consume Me

Written by Illumination

"Pot–... Err, Harry, stop staring. It's rude."

The brunette blinked, unaware that he had been gawking at the other male for quite some time. Breaking into a smile, he murmured a soft "sorry" and raised his mug to his lips. The butterbeer went down smoothly. Draco regarded him with a slightly discerning gaze before taking a sip of his own wine. He'd already explained that Malfoys were expected to drink the finer alcohols. Harry had refused to be disgruntled, and ordered himself a butterbeer. It had always been one of his favorite drinks.

Harry was pleased that Draco was at least making an effort to break old habits. It had been six days... Six marvelous days, wherein Harry was positive he'd been dreaming and would wake up any moment now. In the near-week, they had met in this very pub every day. On Tuesday they'd gone on a walk around the park. Thursday night they'd spent in Draco's home. Harry held back a smile as he recalled the happenings of that night. They'd lost track of time, and both jumped out of their skins when the doorbell rang. Draco had hurried to the door after practically tossing Harry out the sliding door. It had all been in vain, though. The person at the door had simply been trying to convert people to his religion. They had said goodbye afterwards, though, since Astoria would have been home in an hour.

Six days, and Harry had no idea if he was winning Draco over or not. Sure, the blonde seemed happy with him. Harry tried to make himself a good listener, because Draco had a lot of troubles to share. The brunette didn't mind listening. He'd given the blonde his full attention when he'd talking about the happenings after the war, his mother's concerns, Astoria's parents' constant initial urging to wed with Draco only because he bore a noble name, and countless other confessions. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Draco had shared all these things with Astoria as well.

"Mother sent me an owl yesterday." Draco's voice brought Harry from the deepest corner of his mind. Blinking a few times, he focused on those gray-blue eyes. The blonde reached into his coat pocket and extracted an envelope. "She said it came from the Burrow, and it was to be sent to me."

Harry reached out and pulled the parchments out of the stuffed envelope. There were a mess of them, and they were all folded in half. Horrified, he unfolded one. His handwriting. As if he'd been burnt, he threw it down on the table.

"These are my journal pages!"

Draco glanced around the pub, noticing a few people staring. "Calm down." He lowered his voice, leaning over the table a bit. "Do you really feel this way?"

Both ashamed and angry, Harry lowered his head. He figured Ginny must have sent them to Narcissa. But what he couldn't understand is why she would do such a thing? Closing his eyes, he sighed in exasperation as he recalled telling her that he was having trouble letting Draco know exactly how he felt. So she had sent him his journals.

"Harry." The brunette raised his head to find Draco staring him down. "Answer me."

"Yes, okay? I do! Are you bloody happy now?"

Everyone was staring now. Draco was silent for a moment, and then he reached across to take Harry's wrist in his grip. Standing and tugging, the couple exited the pub.

"Ow, Draco–...!" Harry objected. The blonde's grasp on his wrist was tight; blunt nails dug into his skin. The taller male ignored the protests, dragging Harry into an alley where he finally released his wrist in favor of blocking the entrance so Harry couldn't escape.

"Explain, Potter."

Harry wanted to run. He wanted to curse at Draco; to hit him for making him feel this way. He wanted to tell him everything. But his entire vocabulary seemed to have been erased from his mind, save for one expression. And the three words were coming up like word vomit, whether he wanted to say them out loud or not.

"I... I love you."

Draco's face changed. Harry witnessed the marvelously dramatic transition of emotions; from anger to shock, then confusion, then a mix of arrogance and satisfaction, until finally he settled on tender affection.

"Harry, I–"

"No. You told me to explain, so listen." His words effectively shut Draco's mouth, and the blonde regarded him with earnest eyes. "I don't know when, or why, or how. I don't know if it's going to last forever. All I know is I could barely live without you. I couldn't eat, I could barely sleep... Everyone tried to cheer me up and console me, but it didn't really help. In the end, it had to be you. It was always you, I guess." Looking down, the brunette heaved a sigh. "And I don't expect you to leave everything you've worked for just because I walked into your life again. It would be a shame just to throw it all away. I didn't even expect you to give me this chance in the first place. But I couldn't live with myself if I didn't even–"

His words were cut off as the soft pads of fingers touched his chin, raising it until silvery-aqua eyes met his. Wordlessly, lips gently touched his own, effectively silencing him. When the taller of the two pulled back, it was only a few inches. His voice was a soft whisper.

"If you had told me this in the first place, we wouldn't be here. If I had known, you would have already been mine."

Harry stared up at the blonde in astonishment. Did his ears fail him? Had he heard right?

A slight frown framed Draco's face as he continued to speak. "Astoria may or may not have been a replacement... I was still figuring that out for myself. But when you're the only heir of such a noble name, there is much pressure to marry and pass on your name."

"Are you saying your mum pushed you into marrying her so you could have kids?"

Draco smirked at Harry's interpretation, despite how correct it was. "To put it simply, yes. She met all the requirements... She was pure-blood, reasonably attractive and we got along fairly well. I just didn't... I loved her, yes. But... It wasn't true love. It wasn't passionate. It isn't passionate. All those things you said were relevant, Harry. Yes, I am her everything, because without me, she would be poor. She does tell me she loves me, but not with passion. I don't feel unique around her. I'm just another rich bloke with an honorable name. I'm not particularly excited to see her – when we do see each other. She's not everything I want, or need. She couldn't live without me, but only because of money, not spiritual or emotional ties. We sleep in the same bed, but... Sex is like a chore. Detached. Dispassionate. Like we're just going through the motions." Draco paused to let Harry take everything in. The brunette appeared to be in a slight state of shock.

"I would think about you at night sometimes. Almost every night after you showed up on my doorstep. But then I started doubting myself. I wasn't sure if you had fallen in love with the old me or the new me. Because I've changed, Harry. For the better, I guess. I'm still proud – I'll always be proud. But I don't flaunt it as much. I'll always dislike mudbloods. But I suppose I'm not as rude as I used to be. I don't know if you loved those things about me..."

"You're still the same to me."

Draco met Harry's eyes, absorbing the slight smile on his face.

"Am I?"

"Yes. I was always in love with you, Draco. It doesn't matter if your personality changes, or if you stop liking something, or you act a bit differently. That doesn't really change how I feel. I think even back in school, I was curious about you." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think I realized what it was yet... Hell, I didn't even realize I was attracted to males until around my fifth year. And even then, the thought didn't occur to me when I thought about you. I guess I never put two and two together."

Draco smiled a bit, though Harry saw the tension. The blonde obviously cared about Astoria; perhaps like Harry cared about Ginny. But he had a feeling Astoria wasn't as emotionally strong as Ginny. And their relationship had never been about money, or a noble name. Ginny could find many others that would make her happy – perhaps even happier than Harry had made her. Astoria's chances with Draco were possibly a once in a lifetime opportunity. And Harry could tell it was stressful on Draco to think about crushing those chances and maybe even corrupting her future.

Harry thought it was best to let Draco mention it first, but when the blonde spoke, Harry was convinced they had some sort of subconscious connection. "I don't know what to do about Astoria."

"... Maybe you could just tell her the truth..."

"It's not that simple, Harry." Draco ran a hand through his short blonde hair, ruffling it to an appealing status of bedhead. "It's what I'm expected of everyone. I made a commitment to her. The world would talk about us..."

"People have been talking about me my whole life, Draco," Harry deadpanned. "I'm plenty used to it."

"I know you are, but I'm not. Just think of what my father would say..."

"You're father's in Azkaban for life."

"Do you have to rub it in?"

"Sorry, but does it really matter what he thinks?"

"Yes, it does! He was a big part of my life–"

"But he's not in your life anymore."

"That's like saying you don't care what your parents would think!"

"My parents died to protect me. Yours nearly got you killed."

"All my father ever did was care about me!"

"If he cared about you so much then why did he go and get involved with Voldemort–"

"He thought he would rise to power!"

"And why on earth did your mum get involved too? Is she that thick–"

"DON'T YOU SAY A WORD AGAINST MY MOTHER!"

Both fell silent, breathing heavily. Fiery silvery-blue clashed viciously with emerald. The air around them crackled ominously.

"Do you love me... Or not."

It was more of a statement than a question.

"Harry, I told you. It's not that sim–"

"Answer the question, Draco!"

The taller blonde swallowed. For once in his life, he didn't feel completely confident in himself. Harry was someone whom he'd always strived to impress; since he was a little lad at the age of eleven. He'd struggled to grasp 'The Chosen One's' attention for six long years, then finally accepted defeat and went through the painful stages of rejection. He'd acknowledged the fact that he and Harry were from separate bloodlines, brought up differently, and stood on opposite sides of a war. It had taken him over two years to somewhat get over Harry.

And now that he could have him, Draco found himself doubtful.

After a long absence of words, Draco finally met the hurt jade orbs and spoke. "I don't think I ever stopped loving you, Harry. You were the only person I would have ever opened up like a bloody book to, and I'm not exactly proud of that. But you were the one who never spared me a second glance. Your side of whatever could have been was what was lacking. So I don't believe you have the authority to question me like that."

Harry was stunned into silence. Draco was arrogant, rude, mean; he was... Right.

"I don't think we should keep seeing each other behind Astoria's back. It's not right," Draco murmured, lowering his head to examine their feet. Harry's heart dropped into his stomach. His mouth became extremely dry. His eyes burned. "You should go home, Harry."

With those parting words, Draco turned and left the alley, hands in his pockets. Harry couldn't even watch him go. Tears swam in his eyes as the man he loved walked right out of his life.


Dear Mr. Potter,

To make things clear, I must first inform you that I am not a fool. I am well aware of your visits with my fiancée. And, to be completely honest, I am not surprised. You were the very reason I hired someone to tail Draco. I had my suspicions from the beginning, but once Draco postponed our wedding to supposedly 'help you grieve over a loved one', my worries were confirmed.

Now, the question is not whether you love him more than I do. Although I have my opinion and you have yours, love is not something that can be measured by any unit. There is no question to be asked here. Only a single statement.

I have seen the way he looks at you. The way he talks about you, with so much passion in his tone. His dreams of you (that he most likely never told you about). Draco is a proud man. And I have witnessed something occur with him during his period that never occurred when he was courting me. Draco is fearful of falling in love so desperately, because he struggles to maintain his composure. He is afraid to love you as much as he does. It takes quite a person to unravel Draco Malfoy.

While I write this letter to you, I don't know what will happen to me. And it is a shame a man with such a noble name will not bear children. But over the past year, I have grown to know the man you've known since you were eleven. Perhaps you know him better than I, but what I do know is that I cannot, in good conscience, force Draco into something that makes him unhappy. All I want is his joy. And what brings him joy is you.

And so, Harry Potter, I trust you will love him. Take care of his heart, and I pray he will do the same to yours. Perhaps two broken beings make one healthy one. Please put every bit of yourself into your relationship with him. Draco is not as strong as he acts. Make the both of you happy.

Once I send this letter off, I will write a separate one that Draco will read when he returns home from work. By the time you read this, he will be arriving home. You won't have much time to prepare.

Please give him another chance. He didn't mean what he said. He does love you. And we all deserve another chance.

Astoria Greengrass