Title: Nineteen Reasons… 10/19
Author: MK Malfoy
Characters: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: M+
Words: 1,670
Summary: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.
Warnings: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst
Disclaimer: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

Reason Number Ten:

Draco stood, holding the unopened parchment, and looked toward the window; as the white owl had spread her wings to fly away, the realization had finally hit him that there might be no more visits from her. A lot of lasts were happening, and Draco didn't like any of them. He wasn't at all prepared for what was to come, but he had agreed to this; it hadn't only been Harry who had been a party in this relationship, and it hadn't only been Harry who had known how things were going to end between them.

Looking down at his desk, Draco frowned as the words on the parchment caught his eye:

'My to do list before Astoria and I leave for Portugal.'

Seven days to go, then Draco would leave England, and Harry. Yes, he would be returning when his children were old enough to attend Hogwarts, but until then, he would try to make a happy life for himself and for his family. He owed it to them, and most of all, he owed it to himself. He had come a long way from the selfish, young, naïve boy who had sought friendship from the one he would eventually love, and now that he had the opportunity to be a contributing member of society, he was going to take it and run with it. He was under no illusions that it would be easy; Harry would not be an easy person to get over, but Draco wanted a life that was fulfilling, and he would have it, with or without Harry.

He glanced at the parchment in his hand, then opened it:

Draco –

Meet me in Diagon Alley at ten. You know where I'll be.

Harry

Draco read Harry's words as he made his way down the staircase to the ground floor, then frowned as he stuffed the parchment into his cloak pocket and sat on the bottom step and listened to Astoria's mother and his mother as they made last minute changes to the wedding. From the sounds of their voices, the two women were having the times of their lives, and why shouldn't they be? Wasn't it a mother's dream to plan a grand wedding for their child? It certainly had once been Draco's dream to be the groom in such a large spectacle. Not so many years earlier, Draco had anticipated his own wedding with as much glee as the two women in the other room seemed to be exhibiting now.

That now seemed a lifetime ago.

Almost six years had passed since Draco had been excited about that impending wedding: then, a newly initiated Death Eater, eager to please, he had known without a shadow of a doubt that he and Pansy would marry. He had dreamt of his wedding day… and night. His hopes for the future had probably been no different from most males of his standing. He'd had more money than he could ever spend, and he had an old, venerated name. Life had been, for all known intents and purposes, perfect.

Time had changed everything. Now Draco was no longer proud of his association with the Death Eaters, he felt immense sadness and anger toward Pansy, and he was in love with his former foe, Harry James Potter. Life certainly had a way of laughing in the face of those who dared to map out unknown futures. Destiny seemed intent on taking Draco Malfoy down a road he both wanted and detested.

A boisterous laugh brought Draco's thoughts back to the present. His mother was no doubt regaling Astoria's mother with some tale that would be repeated to her daughter so that she could bring it up in a year's time and embarrass her husband.

"I thought you were going out for the day," said Draco's father as he sat beside his son and looked at him with what could only be described as pity.

Startled out of his maudlin thoughts, Draco jumped slightly, and hoped his father did not notice, which, of course, there was no way he could have missed it. "I am," Draco replied, resolutely, "but I don't wish to be detained because they want my opinion of this or that. It's quite enough to be going on with to know that they don't seem to care what either Astoria or I want." Draco shook his head and turned back toward the sitting room where his future was being mapped out for him.

"Your mother has waited twenty-four years to plan a wedding, Draco," was his father's rather understanding reply. "Indulge her, please? Believe me, I understand — it was the same when your mother and I were married: Your mother's mother and my mother turned what should have been a small wedding into a grand event. It'll all be over in a week, then you and Astoria can get on with your lives together." The elder Malfoy then stood and walked into the sitting room, leaving behind a now sullen-faced Draco, who didn't wish to be reminded that it would all be over in a week.

Deciding to forego telling his mother that he was leaving, Draco returned upstairs and took the back stairway down to the area where the house-elves had once stayed, then went outside and Disapparated. He appeared outside of Madam Malkin's, and grinned as he entered the establishment. There was only one other patron, and he was being fitted for dress robes. Draco's grin increased as he looked at the back of the messy, beautiful hair he so loved to run his fingers through.

"Mr. Malfoy, you must be here to pick up your wedding robes?" asked Madam Malkin as she looked at him sternly. She never had warmed to the Malfoys and only tolerated them because of Harry.

"Yes, but I am in no hurry." Draco sat in one of the chairs and opened the Daily Prophet he had brought with him, but he had no intention of reading a word of it. Instead, he covertly stole glances of the handsome man who was now speaking, saying something about a silver clasp.

"You're all set to go, Mr. Potter. Your wedding robes will look wonderful on you when they are finished. You and Miss Weasley are going to have a beautiful wedding," said Madam Malkin as Harry stepped down from the dais.

Draco looked over the top of the paper and didn't miss the forced smile as Harry acknowledged what the elderly seamstress had said, then stood and walked toward Madam Malkin, who had looked at him. When Harry's and his eyes finally met, Draco nodded and smiled, even if it were only a small one — they couldn't risk Madam Malkin seeing the exchange. Yes, the robes Harry had chosen were perfect: Draco approved.

An hour later, Draco leaned over and kissed Harry's neck, then pushed the swing that Harry sat in. Feet raised, Harry looked behind him and grinned.

"Higher."

Draco obliged him and pushed him higher and higher, and smiled when Harry giggled. This innocence of theirs was about to end, and Draco was having a difficult time dealing with this knoweledge, but at least he was finally going to do something about it. Harry would not be at all happy that Draco was leaving England, but he had no say in the matter.

When Harry put his feet down and stopped the swing, he motioned for Draco to join him, and when Draco sat down in Harry's lap, they kissed, then Draco stood, so Harry could get out of the swing.

"How would you like to go to the opera tonight, Harry?" Draco asked as he and Harry walked hand-in-hand to the flat that Draco thought of as his and Harry's.

"I thought you said we'd never go to the opera or have afternoon tea, and as of today, we have done neither. Of course, I am quite willing to do both," Harry said, coyly, as they entered the flat and walked toward the bedroom. "So you think the robes are okay? I wasn't too sure about the silver lining on the inside; it looks a bit too haughty for my tastes," Harry said as he removed his shirt and sat on the bed and welcomed Draco as he sat in his lap and kissed him.

Draco pulled back from the kiss, then reached back in for one more. "They look perfect on you. Thank you for allowing me to be the first one to see them on you." It had meant everything to Draco when Harry had asked him to attend his fitting. It hadn't at all been the most fitting of places to see Harry in his wedding robes, but it had been the only opportunity Draco would have, so he had selfishly taken the invitation, knowing that he would see Harry before Ginny. A petty thought to be sure, but Draco had never claimed to be anything other than human.

That afternoon, the two had tea, biscuits, scones, and some other edibles that Draco had never seen before; they seemed to be more of a Muggle delicacy than a wizard one. Then they went to see Pagliacci. They sat in the last row of the dress circle and held hands as they listened to the sad tale of a love gone wrong.

Draco looked over at Harry after the actor who was playing the part of Canio announced that the comedy (that was not at all a comedy) had ended, and saw tears streaming down his face. Anyone who witnessed the tears might have thought they were tears of sadness over the heartbreaking opera, and some of the tears might have been shed because of that, but most of the tears were the result of another tragic love story that would not have a happy ending. Draco thought about saying something profound, but decided against it and instead turned back toward the stage and applauded as the actors reemerged and took their bows.