Author's Note: Dragons_Chaotia, thanks for all the extra help with this one! I'm glad that, between the two of us, we finally got it right.
Chapter 14: Separation
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
News of the article had traveled fast. Now that Harry was back in the media's good graces, he quickly became the Golden Boy once more. They'd hardly received any Howlers at all, and Draco wasn't even jealous, not this time, as Harry received offer after offer (the mountain of post was only just the beginning) for a myriad of different opportunities. The one that stuck with him, though, as Draco predicted right from that fateful moment on the kitchen floor, was the one for a top tier apprenticeship with the American Auror Division.
Predicting that Harry would want to graduate with full NEWTs, the American DMLE offered to fund private tutoring and coursework at Ilvermorny so that he could prepare for the tests and take them at the end of the semester. When Harry wasn't studying, he would be training with the top class of newly admitted Auror recruits.
Draco reckoned that nothing had ever appealed to Harry more. Ever since receiving the offer, he'd been ecstatic, trembling with excitement at the merest mention of the program. He felt so useless, Harry said, now that Voldemort was gone. It had been his only purpose; all he'd ever known. And now he had the ultimate offer that would allow him to get back into the game.
The British Auror Division tried to woo him as well, and Draco wished more than anything that he'd accept their offer, but Harry had no interest in working for the Ministry of Magic. He still thought of it as corrupted and ineffectual, even after the problematic employees had been purged once Kingsley took office as Minister of Magic. Draco tried to reason with him, tried to pull on his heartstrings by saying that if he did a similar program in London, then they would be closer together. Nothing could persuade Harry otherwise; he was incredibly stubborn once his mind was made up.
At first he'd expected Draco to come with him. Harry asked Draco why he wanted him to accept the offer and stay in London when they could be perfectly happy together in the states. Draco had to remind Harry that the offer had been for him, not Draco, and no he should not just assume they'd be willing to sponsor Draco's education as well just because the Saviour requested it. He also had to remind Harry that he was still bound by his reparations stipulated by the Ministry, and he was required to graduate from Hogwarts.
Harry said he'd decline the offer, if it meant he'd have to leave Draco behind. On the third day after they'd had the conversation, Draco watched as he, very sadly, sat down to write a declination letter. It was worse than ripping out his own heart, but Draco found it in himself to tear up Harry's letter and tell him to go to the states. He wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt otherwise. Oh, and the small fact that Harry would have resented him for the rest of their natural lives.
It was only an apprenticeship. A six month apprenticeship. By that time, the new recruits would be tested and the Divison would decide who they wanted to bring on as full-time Aurors. The rejects would have to find work elsewhere, but Harry could choose to apply anywhere after the six months were up and he could return to Draco at that time. They'd only just about had their six-month anniversary and now they would be separated for the following six months. Either life was unfair or it came with the territory when dating the Saviour.
Only six months until Harry returned. No, only five months and twenty-seven days, Draco counted, etching an X into the oppressively empty calendar square. He sat back down on the couch and pulled out his navy blue cotton yarn, tying a slip knot before starting on his third herringbone half-double crochet dishcloth. He'd vowed to crochet one for each day he and Harry were apart. Only two days previous, after he and Harry said their goodbyes, Draco nearly had a panic attack on the living room floor. Hunched over, head between his knees, he sobbed uncontrollably thinking about how, every moment from now on, it would be just him. Living without Harry. Draco allowed himself this extended moment of melodrama. He'd be slightly more okay after a while, but for now, while the pain was still fresh, for some twisted reason it felt better to revel in it.
Damn Hermione and Neville anyway, with their sympathetic "This will be good for you!"s and their "Your relationship will become even stronger while you're apart"s. Damn them to hell. Because why would he willingly choose this for him and Harry?
Floo calls were not a sustainable solution, not with the time difference and the way their schedules worked out. In the grand scheme of things, it was just another obstacle making things less bearable for Draco.
They'd promised to write letters, but words on a page were no substitute for seeing the crinkles form around Harry's eyes when he smiled, no substitute for feeling Harry's arms tighten around him when they hugged or cuddled. There was no substitute for the feeling of being loved.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco paid a visit to the Manor. He and Mother somberly drank tea together in the green room, gazing out at the melancholy grasses which were powerless against the strong January gusts of wind. Draco let his vision fade, the blades blurring together in his mind, picturing that sweet day in the summer where he brought Harry back to the Manor to show him the butterfly garden.
It was cold and dreary, but he summoned up the fortitude to go out there anyway, bundled up in a coarse black coat buttoned all the way up to his throat. The lavender plants, so bountiful and productive in the summer, were faded and discolored in the winter, receding to the smallest amount of space they could possibly occupy. They were like a living metaphor for his heart, Draco thought miserably as he walked down the neat rows cast by the undergrowth.
Eventually he reached the outer edge of the garden, where he couldn't help but to sink down next to the saddest, loneliest plant. The soil was cold against his trousers, but numbness was part of him now and he couldn't really feel anything, not even the hot tea Mother insisted he drink earlier. Draco wanted to have faith, wanted to be able to trust in the strength of Harry's love for him and his for Harry, but the fear was ultimately too strong.
This, though. This was the life he should have been living ever since summer came and went – a life without Harry in it. To delude himself into thinking they would be anything more was simply a fool's errand. Could he bring himself to regret their relationship? Draco wasn't sure, but what he did know was that, by any means necessary, he wanted the pain to stop.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
I've made it to the states safe and sound. It's quite cold here, not colder than Britain, but somehow I expected it to be more tropical. And for some strange reason, they call Muggles "No-Majes." I don't expect I'll ever get used to American customs, no matter how long I'm here. Do me a favor and have a strong cup of tea, because all anyone brings into the office is coffee. Right strange, that is.
Yours,
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
He tried to write. He really did. But the words wouldn't come, no matter how hard Draco willed them to flow onto the parchment.
Rather, the words he should write were the ones that wouldn't flow. Words like "happy" and "content," phrases like "I'm doing fine" and "I'm glad you've getting along in the states, even if everything's not perfect."
The words he holds back, about being hateful and angry at Harry for leaving him, about the sadness that's flowed over him like a sickness ever since the first day they've been apart? Draco feared those would be expressed all too well should he put the quill to the parchment.
In the end, he just doesn't send a return letter at all.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Things are improving, I suppose. I found a decent tea shop down the street from the office and have managed to make Warming Charms last long enough so that I can get some bloody sleep. My next-door neighbor, though, he's a right prat. Reminds me of Ron, honestly. That's something I'd rather not think about, so I'm going to go back to work.
Love,
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
The quill felt heavy in Draco's hand. Their flat is cold too, and he still hasn't figured out how to make Warming Charms last longer either. He could ask Harry, but somehow, it seems dishonest to write about trivial, unimportant things when there's a literal war going on inside of him. Once again, Draco doesn't write back, even though it makes him feel like scum.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Are you alright? I haven't heard from you in nearly a week, and I'm starting to get slightly worried. More than slightly, actually. I had to write to Hermione just to find out if you were still alive, Draco. I know you're still upset, but for God's sake, don't make me worry about you like this. Send me a piece of parchment with your name on it, I don't even care. Just don't ignore me anymore.
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco wrapped a red and gold dishcloth in tissue paper before sealing it in a small box and handing the parcel to the owl. "Take this to him," he said. "And tell him…tell him I'm sorry."
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
The dishcloth is beautiful. I won't actually use it to clean my counters because I'd manage to ruin it somehow. But just having it makes me feel a lot better.
Love,
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
I'm glad you like the dishcloth.
DM
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
He spent the next week fielding letters from Harry that demanded a response.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me? Don't take this the wrong way, but you usually never shut up. Even when you write letters, they're pages long. Why won't you talk to me?
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Harry,
Don't overthink things. Merlin knows what happens when you try to process information.
DM
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
You'd be pleased to know that I'm top of the class in Logic & Reasoning. Now what won't you tell me?
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Harry,
I don't think it counts if you're less than a week into the semester. Put your inductive reasoning skills to use elsewhere, Sherlock.
DM
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Did you seriously just reference Muggle pop culture? That's it; I think I'm secretly talking to Hermione.
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Harry,
Hermione doesn't know about what you called me in bed a couple weeks ago. If you don't want her to know, I suggest you shut up, you bloody twat.
DM
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Well then I suppose she also doesn't know how you reacted to it. It wouldn't be fair of you to only tell her one part of the story, now would it? Seriously though, what's going on with you? Hermione's letters are full of back to school gossip and reminders about NEWTs. Why haven't you said anything?
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Harry,
Why would I need to remind you about NEWTs, seeing as Hermione has already mentioned them and she's going to be on your case all semester long anyway?
DM
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
You've got two days to tell me what's wrong. After that, I'm coming back to Hogsmeade and you can tell me in person.
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Harry,
What do you want me to say?
DM
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Inductive reasoning aside, I don't know how much clearer I could have been. Time's ticking.
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
What do you want me to say? Things were finally going well for us. We did the interview, and public opinion was finally going to shift enough as to where we could go out in public together. But then, you were the Golden Boy and suddenly you leave on a spur of the moment decision to move to the states, of all places, to do an apprenticeship as an Auror when you haven't even said anything about still wanting to be an Auror. Excuse me while I wonder why you really left. Because I've never been more in love with you than I am now, and you left me to go chasing dark wizards after you swore that you'd put me first. That you'd put us first. And now I'm left here all alone while you're off having another fantastic adventure.
I'm not saying I blame you or want to give up on us. I'm just angry. I'm angry you left, even though I want you to have this. It's not that I'm mad you're there, I'm irrationally angry you left; give me time!"
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
We agreed on this. Together. You said you didn't want me to give up anything for you, so I'd hope you didn't blame me.
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
But context, Potter. I didn't think I had to say that I wanted you to want to put me first, that I wanted you to make the best decisions for us.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Unless you tell me what you want, I'll never know. Don't ask, don't get.
Harry
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Isn't that exactly the problem? You want to be an American Auror, and I want us to live together and play house. I can adjust my expectations.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Draco,
Stop being melodramatic. For Merlin's sakes, it's just for a semester. Then everything will be back to normal again.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Define normal. If you're naïve enough to believe we'll be back to normal, then you're wrong. Because what happens when they hire you on full-time? Are you just going to leave your co-workers and say I'm going back to London? And what about my career goals? The top Potions program in Physiology is in France. Would you be willing to work for the French Aurors?
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
You're being ridiculous. I can't even speak French, Draco. Some of us didn't grow up with the same luxuries and privileges you had as a child. And besides, didn't you say that you wanted to play house? I would be willing to come back and work for the Ministry if you went to school in London.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
I'm not going to go around lessening myself so that you can live out your dreams as the Golden Boy, Potter. With my past already against me, if I get into the best school for my specialization, I'm going.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
We're going to be apart for longer than just a semester, then.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Obviously. It's a long program.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
Your call.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
You asked me what I think. I have more.
I think that you're a selfish asshole. I think that you've gotten used to doing things for "the greater good" for so long, that you don't know how to prioritize something or someone. I think that you don't really know what love is, and that's why you're willing to throw away what we have so easily.
You want to know what my final thought is, Potter? Go fuck yourself. We're over.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
After sending the final letter, Draco threw himself down on the sofa, guttural sobs wracking his body. He tried to cast a Patronus and send it to Hermione to let her know what just happened – she knew that they were fighting, but nothing of this magnitude – but it's like he was his own personal Dementor, having snatched his happy memories away interminably.
It's another hour before Draco dragged himself off of the sofa, tearstained and trembling, and ambled over to the Floo to firecall Hermione.
"Hermione?" he gasped, forgetting how to breathe through the hot ash.
"Draco?" she called back, slouching into the living room in flannels with her bushy hair tied back. "Are you quite alright?"
That's all it took to set him off again. Soot doesn't taste good when it's inhaled, but then again, it wasn't like Draco could taste much anyway.
"What happened?" Hermione shouted, alarmed. "Oh, bloody hell – stand back, I'm coming through."
He wrenched himself out of the fireplace, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to breathe deeply, to calm down. It didn't work. Shallow breaths plagued him. He couldn't draw air further into his lungs. It was stuck. He couldn't breathe. Fell. Hands and knees. Couldn't breathe. Air stuck. Weight pressed down on his chest. Sound of air whooshing through his ears.
Suddenly, firm hands pushed him back on his bum. "Breathe, Draco," a voice instructed. "Slowly. In…two… three… four… out… two… three… four. Come on now, you're not even trying."
Pressure on his wrists. "Look at me. Look at me!" He was being shaken. No choice but to look up. Bright, much too bright. Frightened eyes stared into his. "Draco. Come on, princess. Breathe with me. In… two… three… four… out… two… three… four."
He followed instructions, holding eye contact all the while. It got easier as they went. She breathed with him, over-exaggerated the noises of inhaling and exhaling.
A few minutes passed. "Do you feel better now, Draco?" Hermione asked, sounding very far away.
"N-no," he managed. Everything still felt wrong.
"Biscuits and tea," Hermione determined.
"I'm f-fine, really –"
"Biscuits and tea."
Ten minutes later, he crunched numbly on a chocolate chip biscuit while Hermione poured hot water into his favorite bone china teacup. Gratefully, Draco tossed in his teabag, pouring in the milk without waiting for it to properly steep.
Hermione sat in the chair next to him, putting a warm hand on his forearm. "Do you want to talk about it yet?" she asked mildly.
"I dumped him. That's really all there is to say."
He hadn't intentionally waited until she took a sip of tea to say it, but it turned out that way. She sprayed tea all over the wooden finish, coughing.
"You – what?" she sputtered, wheezing.
"You didn't think I pulled you through my fireplace and had a panic attack for funsies, did you?"
"Well, no," Hermione responded, miffed. "I just assumed Harry was going to stay in the states longer, or something of the sort."
Draco sighed. "He might. That's what he wants anyway," he added bitterly.
"How did this even happen?" Hermione asked, wiping up tea with one of Draco's handy dishcloths (one of the ones designated for cleaning and not for having).
"He was being a douche," Draco grimaced. "Here." He thrust a pile of neatly organized parchment at her. "You can read the letters. I made copies."
He was sure that it was only the gravity of the situation kept Hermione from commenting about his love of filing and copies. He couldn't watch as she read them; instead, Draco concentrated on trying to get his hand to stop shaking long enough to pick up his teacup.
Just as the trembles started to cease, Hermione exclaimed, "How could he actually say that? The Harry I know would never have written 'don't ask, don't get.'"
"The Harry I knew would never do that either," said Draco, abandoning the tea momentarily in favor of a tissue. "I just don't understand, Hermione. Everything was going so well for us." He wiped his eyes.
"You're right, I think," Hermione said thoughtfully. She paused. "I don't think he knows how to separate what he thinks he should want from what he actually wants."
"You know what scares me more?"
"What?"
"That he knows exactly what he wants."
Hermione didn't say anything else, but she stood up to hug Draco from behind, her bushy hair falling over her face as she buried her head in the crook of his neck.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
He was dragged out of a fitful sleep later that night by the feeling of the wards breaking. Sluggish and slow, Draco grappled for his wand to cast a Lumos.
As soon as it lit, however, he was disarmed by a very, very angry Harry.
"Draco, you seriously took me out of the wards the day after you broke up with me?" Harry leered over him; face a picture of pure menace, his glare only accentuated by the shadows cast by his light. "There's an indentation on your right side, Draco. Two people were in this bed. Who's here with you? How long have you been cheating on me?"
"What? I never –" Draco stammered. He scrambled back in the bed, already fighting tears, as Harry stepped nearer, wand raised.
"Then why break up with me? Why seal our home against me?" He kept his wand trained on Draco, who shivered, trembled at the thought that Harry might hurt him…
"Because you're being a complete arsehole!" Hermione's voice echoed through the room. She stood upright in the doorway, having just come out of the bathroom. Wand raised, she stepped into their bedroom. "Harry James Potter! How DARE you threaten him like that!"
"I'll threaten whoever I want," Harry snarled.
"Thanks Hermione, but I've got this." Hermione only retreated by to the doorway, quiet and worried.
Tears slipped from the corners of Draco's eyes but he ignored them. "I thought you trusted me, but then again I thought a lot of things, didn't I?" He stood up and grabbed his own wand, turning to look Harry dead in the eye. "I love you, but you're not going to shit on me like the cretin you are, Potter."
"You can understand why I thought that, though, couldn't you?" Harry dove across the room to block Draco's path. "We can still fix this, Draco. Please. Just come to the states and do your Mastery –"
"I already told you!" Draco cried. "I want to go to France. How can you even ask this of me after being in the states for only two weeks?!"
"It feels more right than anything else has in my entire life," Harry said. Draco could see his sincerity showing through. "I want you to come live with me. You'll love the American Aurors, they're so much different than the ones in Britain –"
"Your job feels righter than me?"
"Draco –"
"That's what you said, isn't it, that it was righter than anything had ever been for you before. Including me."
"That's not what I meant –"
"YES IT IS. Why don't you just go marry it, then, Potter?" Draco cried, too angry to flinch at the childish phrase.
There was pain in his chest, his stomach, his head. How was it possible to see red and feel like you'd been stabbed in the gut at the same time? Draco couldn't look at him any longer.
"Get out," he said. "Just get the fuck out. Take your things with you, because I'll burn anything you leave here."
"I don't want to fight with you, Draco," Harry said. "I want you to let me love you."
"Well that ship has sailed," he said through clenched teeth, harnessing the despair and anger inside of him. "Even if you love me, you don't get to decide how I live my life."
"You'll miss me, you know."
There was an ancient spell, he'd learned as a young boy, an incantation passed down from mothers to daughters in Pureblood families. "I'd rather be free," Draco whispered, invoking the incantation. Silence was the only thing left behind as the powerful magic whisked him away to his lavender garden, the place he felt safest.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
"Get up."
"No."
"I swear to God, Malfoy, get up!"
"Make me."
"So help me, if I have to pull you out of that bed by your ears, I will! Don't think I didn't learn anything from Molly Weasley after all the years I'd been friends with her son…"
Two weeks had gone by since he'd left Harry, causing Draco to fall into lethargy and depression. He perfunctorily kept up with all his responsibilities related to academics, but failed to take care of himself in the most basic of ways. Though never a glutton, Draco couldn't remember the last time he ate a proper meal. He didn't care to.
Hastily casting a protective charm over his ears, Draco burrowed himself deeper into his afghan cocoon.
"We should find out about whether or not our article's been accepted soon," said Hermione soothingly, trying a different tack.
"I don't care," Draco said, voice muffled by the covers.
"Have you even started working on your Potions Mastery applications yet?!" Hermione demanded.
Radio silence.
"Draco," said Hermione despairingly, "You've only got two more weeksto get them in!"
"I don't care," said Draco again, subtly wiping traitorous tears out of the corners of his eyes.
"Of course you do," Hermione murmured. "Oh, Draco…" There was a slight dip to the bed as she climbed in, demolishing the outer wall of his casing as she snuggled up behind him.
It initially felt weird – other than that one time on the living room floor, no one besides Harry had ever cuddled him – and Draco was tense until Hermione reached out and pulled him back against her chest.
"You're really taking this hard, aren't you?" she sighed.
Draco was silent. Somehow, it was nice to feel a warm body next to his. It was nice to feel loved, even if it was platonic, because no one had touched him in over a month other than when he hugged Mother goodbye so many weeks ago.
"What have I done?" he asked finally, voice husky from quelling the tears.
"You got yourself out of an emotionally abusive relationship," said Hermione firmly.
"But I still love him," Draco sniveled, hating life. "When I'm with him, no one else's opinion mattered."
"You'll be stronger now because you have to be," Hermione said firmly, running her fingers through his hair. "What other option do you have?" They were silent for a while, until she sighed, "That's how I've been coping, anyway."
Overcome with empathy, Draco rolled over on his side to stare deep into Hermione's eyes. "We're pitiful, aren't we?" he deadpanned.
"Definitely," Hermione agreed, putting a hand on Draco's crossed forearms. "At least we're pitiful together, right?"
"Move in with me," Draco said suddenly. "No, fuck Hogwarts," he said as Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "I'll lose my mind if I have to stay alone in this empty flat any longer."
"On one condition," Hermione conceded. "Since Ronald and I broke up, well, I haven't been able to sleep in an empty bed." She blushed.
"Merlin, me either," Draco groaned. "I guess that settles where you'll be sleeping." He mustered up a smile.
"I'll go and get my stuff tomorrow," Hermione said, closing her eyes. "Right now sounds like the perfect time for a nap…"
"Done and done." Draco closed his eyes too, reveling in her warmth, in her humanness. He hadn't had nightmares when Harry was with him, but in his absence they'd returned. Hopefully Hermione's presence would be enough to chase them away.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
"Can you proofread this for me?"
"In a few minutes. I have to finish this Potions essay for Monday –"
"Hermione, no offense, but hang the Potions essay! I have exactly four hours to submit these applications before I have to wait until next year!"
"Well, Draco, that just goes to show that you shouldn't have waited until the last minute to write your statement of purpose!"
"Look, are you going to help me or not? This is the first goddamn first day I've been motivated enough to think of life after graduation."
"Pass is over here, then."
"Thanks, Hermione, you have no idea what a lifesaver you are –"
"You're not just doing this because of Harry, are you?"
"Excuse me?!"
"Your career was a huge part of your fight. I just want to make sure you're applying for the right reasons, after all. Not because you feel like you have to follow-through because that's what you told him you wanted to do?"
"If you'd actually read my statement of purpose, you'd know I have very good reasons as to why I want to get into these Mastery programs. And, if you'd listened to literally anything I said when we were talking about schools last month, you'd know that the best Potions Mastery program in Physiology is in France."
"France?"
"France."
"My top school's in France too."
"Great, that's even more of an incentive for you to help me then."
"You're lucky I need someone who can speak French."
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
They ran out of milk, and so Draco's forced to go buy some more. His tea, which already only provides the smallest modicum of comfort, is simply unbearable without it.
He walked down the bustling, cheery streets of Diagon Alley, dodging several teenage girls and heading for the corner market that sold top quality goods at a fair price.
On the way, he passed a small flower shop. On a whim, Draco turned around, deciding to go in. The shop is beautiful, but he doesn't take any of it in. The beautiful bouquets of sunflowers and roses don't catch his eye. Neither do the carnations, the peonies, or the hydrangeas.
Instead, Draco was drawn to the back wall of the shop, where several displays of somber flowers had been arranged. He walked right up to a stark arrangement of white lilies and roses. Leaning forward, Draco cupped the bottom of one of the lilies and deeply inhaled the sweet, fragrant scent. Immediately, in that one moment, he was all the funerals he's ever attended, breathing in the aromatic smell that comes after a death.
It's morbid, it's grotesque, but he leaned back down and inhaled again. After a month and a half of nothing feeling right, this one flower made Draco feel as though he'd come home.
He bought two bouquets and set them on either side of his and Harry's bed.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
"Why is the floor covered in dishcloths?"
"Should the floor not be covered in dishcloths?"
"You don't even wash dishes by hand, for Merlin's sake!"
"I can start any time."
"For Merlin's sake, Draco, I bought you a trunk to put all of those in!"
"I like to look at them."
"Why?"
"They're tangible. NO DON'T TOUCH THAT."
"SORRY. How about some acrylic so you can make afghans?"
"I like cotton."
"Can you at least use some different colors? Something more cheery?"
"There's no need for cheery. Navy matches my soul."
When Draco came to bed later that night, he found a navy blue bedspread and matching fleece blanket underneath. The material was soft and warm against his cheek as he snuggled up against it.
εїз Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ εїз
It was an ordinary day just like any other. Draco went to his classes, worked with Neville in the Hogwarts greenhouses, and came home sweaty, muddy, and in a slightly better mood than usual. They'd talked about ordering Chinese for dinner during their break, and Draco only hoped Hermione had followed through.
When he came home, though, the flat was dark. The sun had gone down, yet Hermione hadn't turned off the lights. Was she even here?
"Hello?" Draco called into the darkness, bending down to unlace his shoes rather than toe them off.
"In the kitchen."
Her response was faint and his immediate thought was that someone died. "Is Harry okay?" He raced into the kitchen and cast a Lumos only to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table with two neat piles of letters in front of her.
Draco stopped short. "Are those what I think they are?"
"They are," said Hermione miserably.
"How long have you been sitting here looking at them?"
"Since just after our last class."
"Have you eaten?"
"How can you think about eating at a time like this?! Our futures are in these envelopes, Draco!"
Sobered, Draco sat down in the chair across from her. "Okay," he said reasonably. "We'll open the letters. Then, no matter what happens, we get Chinese."
"How are you so calm about this?"
"I meant what I said to Harry. No matter what happens I won't go with him. So even if I don't get into the Mastery program, then I'll work on finding Potions Masters and persuading one of them to take me on as an apprentice."
"And if that doesn't work?"
"Let's not talk about Plan C before Plan A fails. So. What order are we opening these envelopes in?"
"I thought we'd do the one from Brewing Dangerously first?"
"Holy shit, our futures are really being decided now, aren't they?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Malfoy."
Hermione's pile was a lot larger than his was, but, then again, she'd applied for more programs. Draco really only wanted to get into the school in France.
"Do you want to do the honors?" she asked, holding the black envelope out.
Draco accepted it with shaking hands. "You know," he said weakly, "The last time I accepted correspondence, it really didn't go that well."
"Should I do it then?"
"I really think you should."
Trembling, he handed her the envelope. They briefly made eye contact, and thousand things seemed to pass between them before she looked down to open it. The tearing of the paper seemed too loud in the quiet room, but soon enough the wrinkled envelope was on the table as she unfolded the envelope. Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"WE GOT IN!" Hermione shouted, blasting out his eardrums in her excitement. "Draco, they accepted our article!"
"What?!" he exclaimed, leaping up in excitement. "Seriously?"
"Almost," she admitted, causing his heart to drop. "We got a 'revise and resubmit,' but Draco, that means they're going to publish it! From what it says here, they just need us to clarify what the finished result is supposed to look and taste like. Basically, we fix it up, send it back in, and then they publish it!"
He sank back down into his chair, reaching up with his muddy hands to massage his temples. "This feels unreal. Hermione, are we dreaming?"
"We're not," she said, beaming, pushing her chair back and making her way across the kitchen to hug him.
He held on a moment longer than necessary, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. "Thank you," Draco whispered. "I could have never done this without you."
"Oh, yes you could have," Hermione said, amused. "We do make a wonderful team, though."
"Should we power through the rest of these envelopes?" Draco asked, releasing her.
"I'll open yours, you open mine?"
"Deal."
He opened the one from Australia first, informing Hermione of her acceptance upon unfolding the parchment. She nodded briskly – like him, her top school was in France. Hermione was also accepted into two schools in Brazil, and one in the Caribbean.
"Scotland's next."
"Oh, you have one from Scotland too."
They opened the envelopes at the same time, though Draco was slightly more nervous now that one of his chances was on the line. It was nerve-wracking as well that Hermione had already received so many acceptances…
"You're in," Draco said. He looked up. The look of sympathy on Hermione's face was telling enough. "Fucking Scotland."
"We'll put that one on my 'decline' list," Hermione said. "I'm not going somewhere that rejected you."
"Next one." He didn't want to spend any more time thinking about what couldn't be.
"London?"
He snagged the envelope for London off of her pile and ripped it open. After this one, two left for both of them. Draco already knew she'd have put France at the very bottom.
"You got in!" Hermione shrieked. "Draco, they actually –"
An intense sense of relief flowed through him. London had been Draco's safety school, sure, because he was massively over-qualified for it, but neither of them knew whether or not he would actually get in because of his past.
"Thank God," he said. "But…um, Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"London rejected you."
"London rejected me?!"
"Um, yes."
"London can go –"
"Yes, yes, I know."
"You can still go there, if you want."
"Not unless I have to."
Grimly, they both reached for the next application on the stack: California. Draco experienced actual twinges of excitement when they were both accepted. Now there was a school they could go to, together, that offered top-tier programs for both of their Masteries.
"I can't," said Hermione, looking at Draco's letter from France.
"No, I can't," said Draco. "But we have to." Silently, they picked up the letters and tore in, Hermione shredding parchment all over the table in order to get past the stubborn wax seal.
There was a pregnant pause as they each scanned the top line of the letter.
"YOU GOT IN!" Hermione and Draco exclaimed at the same time, smiles bursting out over their faces as they embraced in a whirl of bodies and paper. After they broke away, Draco immediately seized his and savored the sentence that began, "Dear Mr. Malfoy, Congratulations! On behalf of the faculty and staff at L'Institut d'Alchahest, it is with great pleasure that I inform you of your admission to Alchahest! To complete a Potions Mastery the apprentice must study a minimum of three years under an instructor, then be accepted by a Master Potioneer to complete a hands-on residency before being recognized as a Potions Master with all privileges and titles afforded."
Draco met Hermione's eyes. Her matching grin informed him of what their decision would be.
"Marseille, ici je viens!"
Here's some biscuits and tea for your soul :)