For the Monthly Slash-tastic Drabble-athon Competition (31. "There's a lit cigarette in the hand of my new angel."- Evans Blue, "Beg") and the OTP Bootcamp (24. morbid)
"What are you thinking about?"
He turned towards the source of the voice. "Nothing," he replied, "Just – you know, things."
The blond's lips curled into a cynical smile. "Wondering how you and I got here again?" he asked, walking away from the balcony to sit down next to him.
"You have to admit, this wasn't how anyone saw us turning out," Harry replied, flicking the fag from Draco's fingers and raising it to his lips. "You and I, together? It was never supposed to happen this way, was it?" he asked, taking a drag and letting the smoke free.
"Does it matter anymore? It's old news by now – no one cares. Hell, there aren't even any Prophet photographers following our every move. And all your friends and my family were thrilled about this as soon as we explained it all to them when we started, so…"
Harry turned to look at the gorgeous man sitting next to him. His life hadn't exactly turned out how he'd expected it to – there was definitely no wife in his future, and though there might very well be children, it wouldn't be anything like he'd once imagined it.
But – well, he had Draco now. And Draco was- indescribable. Draco was so much more than he had ever expected, and that was so much more concrete than any fantasy he had built up for himself.
He handed the fag back to Draco. "Maybe you're right," he murmured, "I love you, you know."
"I know," Draco replied, pulling Harry close, "I know."
And then there was quiet, as the two of them watched cigarette smoke trail out into the night sky.
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