Chapter Twenty-Six

Draco glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 1:38am. Nearly closing time. The golden lights that illuminated CIRCLE's bar and the glittering shelves of alcohol behind it dimmed, basking the room in a soft yellow glow, and the jazz playing in the background faded gently into silence. The muted conversations stilled as guests began trickling from the bar, heading sleepily out after a long night while the staff lingered behind, wiping down tables and cleaning up after them. The room was filled with a warm and comfortable drowsiness that marked the end of a long day, and everyone was ready to head home.

Draco finished polishing off a glass and looked up briefly. Hyun was mixing up a champagne cocktail for a petite girl at the bar. A couple finished their shots of Amortentia and stumbled tipsily out, holding hands and smiling blissfully. The other bartender was wiping down the bar, but paused as he checked his phone, a smile gracing his lips as he read a text before continuing on with his task. Everyone was content. All was well.

Draco leaned back against a sink and sighed, closing his eyes. It had been a long couple of weeks. Blaise being the Dragon Killer had certainly complicated many things for both the MI6 and the underworld, but this time, Draco was out. Nothing, not even the threat of a fucking nuclear war could convince him to even consider having anything to do with the underworld, but to his surprise, they respected his wishes. Perhaps because they felt pretty awful about being two seconds away from shipping Draco to Azkaban for life. Regardless, after a day of debriefing, he was free to go, and nobody has contacted him since.

Life returned to normal. He woke at noon to emergencies that had him racing from club to club till daybreak. He stayed up all night with the help of enough caffeine to give an elephant a heart attack. And when he had time… he tried to paint. The most he could do were crude sketches and simple outlines before he had to stop. But perhaps, he might be able to create something more cohesive sometime in the future.

The door to the bar swung open, sending a gust of frosty January wind sweeping in, and a figure stepped into the room. Draco pushed himself off the sink, ready to greet the customer, and stilled.

It was Harry.

His eyes swept across the shop as he unbuttoned his coat, his gaze skimming past those of the bartenders and guests until it found Draco's. And for a moment, they just stood there. Green into grey. Familiar, but at the same time… foreign.

"Draco," Harry broke the silence. He smiled weakly, and headed over to the bar, hoisting himself up on the chair.

"Harry," Draco responded, making his way up. He smiled gently in return and slid a menu over. "How can I help you?"

Harry flipped through the book; brows creased in concentration. While he considered his options, Draco took a good look at him. He had grown leaner, probably from stress, and shadows hung heavy beneath his eyes. But beneath the soft lighting, his skin was still flushed with a healthy glow, those glasses still showed off a pair of impeccable cheekbones, and those bright green eyes remained as clear as ever. Harry was still, and would no doubt remain, the most beautiful thing he had and will see in his life.

Despite himself, Draco let out a wry chuckle. He was vividly reminded of the first time they met several months ago. The same bar, the same seat, the same conversation. However, in the last time, they were prickly and mistrustful, tongue sharp and claws out, bearing the grudges and suspicion of the past. Now, there was nothing but sorrow, loss, and regret.

"I think… I'll just have a water," Harry said.

Draco nodded. He filled a glass, but as an afterthought, added a few edible carnation petals into it before placing it before him. Harry took a sip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He paused, as if needing to steel his nerves, and spoke.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. He was unable to meet Draco's face, staring at the rosy petals floating in his glass. "You weren't the Dragon Killer. I should have listened instead of jumping to the wrong conclusion. I-"

"It's alright. I don't blame you. I don't blame any of you," Draco cut him off gently. It was the truth. He really didn't blame them for what happened. "Blaise framed me really fucking well, and if I were in your position, I would've done the same."

"But I hurt you," Harry glanced up. Pain and guilt glittered in his eyes, and Draco couldn't stop his heart from aching when he saw it. "You trusted me, but I let you down."

"Don't worry about it," Draco smiled faintly. "I'm used to it,"

"But you shouldn't be," Harry shook his head. "I… I promised that you'd be safe. I promised to be your friend. To be someone you can trust. But when the time came… I couldn't do it. I can't forgive myself for that."

Draco stared at his hands. This time, he didn't respond, because Harry was right. Considering the pain and trauma of his past, his fear of abandonment and betrayal… it was difficult enough for him to put his trust in anyone. But he did. And when he needed his friends to trust him back, it didn't matter if they were the friends of his childhood or those in his life now, because none of them were able to do it.

The petite girl left, bundled up in a fluffy black fur coat. Hyun and the other bartender vanished into the back room to count up inventory. They were alone in the silent bar, illuminated by warm golden lights but the grief in their hearts made it impossible to feel anything but sorrow.

"Did you regret me?" Draco asked quietly. "Did you ever regret loving me?"

He glanced up. Harry was shaking his head, vehemently denying it, perhaps not only to Draco but also to himself. But through it all, deep in their souls, both of them knew the truth. Draco had never dared to fall, never dared to trust, but when he did, Harry caught him. And for a few blissful weeks, they were happy. However, the shadows of their past and the dangers of their present were simply too much, and try as he might, Harry was not strong enough to stop him from falling again.

"How's the job?" Drack asked, switching the topic. Immediately, he wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Out of all the questions he could have asked, must he have asked this one? Of course, things wouldn't be going well for him! The MI6 must have been fucking furious about how everything went down.

"Yeah, it's been complicated," Harry answered tiredly. He sighed and rubbed his temples. "The less said, the better."

"For sure," Draco agreed. "Damn. That was a really insensitive question, even for me. I shouldn't have asked. I'm blaming my lapse in judgement on sleep deprivation."

"Don't worry about it," Harry chuckled. Seeing him laugh, Draco couldn't help but to smile as well. However, the moment passed, and Harry sobered up. "Actually, about my job… the main office no longer trusts me, and wants me back in England."

"Ah," Draco said. Well. He supposed that was to be expected. The Dragon Killer case really wasn't handled too well, and even with Harry Potter's influence and fame, the consequences were inevitable. "When will you be leaving?"

"Tomorrow," Harry admitted.

Oh. That was very soon.

"I suppose this is a goodbye, then?" Draco said lightly.

"I suppose so," Harry agreed sadly.

"In that case…" Draco reached for a bottle of vodka and poured out two shots. He slid one to Harry and raised the other in a toast. "To Harry Potter. Wishing you the best of luck in winning over those motherfuckers at the main office, because god knows you need a boost to your reputation right now."

"Ouch," Harry looked offended, but grinned and raised his glass. "To Draco Malfoy. Wishing you a long and happy life, because knowing the sheer amount of stress and anxiety you put yourself through on a daily basis, I'd be really fucking impressed if you make it past forty."

Draco burst out laughing. Chuckling, they took the shots together. The alcohol burned its way down his throat and settled warm in his belly. Draco placed his glass down and was ready to reach for the bottle and go for another round, but a phone buzzed, and Harry picked it up. Someone had sent him a text.

"What is it?" Draco asked. A part of him sank in concern when he saw Harry's brow crease in concentration as he read the message.

"The MI6," Harry sighed. He buried his face in his hands. "They want to debrief me one last time before I leave. Draco I…"

"Don't worry," Draco said. He genuinely meant it. "Go. You got this. Besides, it's about closing time anyway."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully as he shrugged on his coat and picked up his bag. Draco took their shot glasses to the sink and washed them quickly. When he glanced up again, Harry was at the door, hesitating. Draco was about to wave and say goodbye, but Harry took a deep breath, exhaled, and spoke first. Every word was sincere. "Thank you, Draco. For everything. I'm glad I met you."

Draco smiled. "Thank you, Potter. I'm grateful as well."

Harry grinned and waved, those green eyes shining, and Draco couldn't stop himself from returning it as well. The door opened, sending a gust of wind into the room, and bundled up against the cold, Harry headed out. For a moment, Draco could see his silhouette against the streetlights outside, but in moments, the darkness of the night soon swallowed him up, and in moments, he was gone.

And just like that, Harry Potter once again stepped from his life.

The story's not quite over yet! There's also going to be an epilogue and postscript! :)