Changes
Draco had always hated California weather.
He had hated it ever since Harry had convinced him to move out here three years ago. Harry had begged him and smiled at him in that way and did something with his hands, and Draco just couldn't refuse.
But, he thought to himself as he walked along the sandy park bike path, it's too bloody hot.
"Almost winter," he grumbled, drawing a few confused glances from passerby.
Almost winter, and it was so warm children were running around in brightly colored bathing suits. Shirtless teenage boys threw a football back and forth.
Draco's eyes rested on the boys for a moment, but not in a lust way.
Well. Maybe partly in a lust way.
But seeing their bare chests glistening in the sunlight, dark hair ruffling in the breeze…it brought back memories. Draco realized how long it was since he felt the hands or lips of anyone. Since Harry.
When he was with Harry, they lived in an apartment in downtown Los Angeles. Draco had protested, saying that they both had enough money to at least live in a house. But Harry wanted somewhere humble, somewhere where he could get lost in a jungle of people. That's why he wanted to move to LA in the first place- everyone knows that magic is terribly obscured in huge industrial cities like that.
And what Harry wanted, Draco gave.
Of course, neither gave up their magic. Harry Apparated to London every morning, working hard on the Weasley Treaty, a Muggle-Wizard peace treaty Arthur Weasley had started up years before.
Draco laughed quietly to himself, remembering his old prejudices towards Muggles and Muggle-borns, even up to when he and Harry moved. But you can't be surrounded by Muggles day in and day out and not become at least somewhat accustomed to them.
Draco worked as a psychiatrist for victims of the War.
Hah, a psychiatrist. If Father could see him now.
Draco wiped the sweat from his forehead. A simple Cooling Spell seemed to call to him from the pocket where his wand lay. Too many Muggles around, too risky.
By Merlin, he hated the heat. And not only because of the horrid comfort level. He looked awful when it was hot. His light hair sticking to his forehead, his pale skin flushed and raw with sunburns…ugh.
Cold, on the other hand- cold and snow and ice complemented him. He was, in a way, a creature of winter, with his light hair and features…not to mention how he looked in a tight black turtleneck.
He didn't own a black turtleneck anymore. He had always worn Harry's. He would imitate Harry while wearing it, the Harry back in Hogwarts.
***
"Oh, oh! Look at meee! I have a scar!" Draco yelled, chuckling, dancing out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Harry stood drinking pumpkin juice. Harry rolled his eyes and turned his back to his boyfriend. Draco came up behind him and threw his arms around Harry's shoulders, clasping his hands together in front.
"Malfoy, you mean, cruel, devastatingly gorgeous man! Take me now!" Draco mimicked Harry's lower and raspier voice. He rested his head on the other man's shoulder. Harry turned and kissed Draco on the cheek.
"I don't think that ever happened in school," Harry said quietly. Draco thought he heard a tinge of sadness in his voice, but the next moment, it was gone.
***
Draco realized with a start that he missed that cramped apartment, even with the annoyingly Muggle devices everywhere, and even with Weasley and Granger Apparating in at some very inopportune times.
He lived in Beverly Hills now, finally the using the money of his inheritance. He had a typically huge house, winding staircase, three living rooms, with palm trees and a silver SUV out front. It was no Malfoy Manor, but it was close enough.
Yet…it never felt quite right. A large house was nice enough, but when he was the only one living there, he constantly felt alone.
When Draco was alone, he had only his thoughts to keep company. This was never a good thing.
Looking up through his fringe, Draco realized he was at the end of the path. He sighed and turned around, ready to head back home. And be alone. Again.
But as he was walking, looking forward to the blast of air-conditioning in his car, a yell from his left brought him to a halt.
"Malfoy?!"
Draco whirled around, and at his immediate eye level was a very freckled neck. He grimaced.
Weasley had always been abnormally tall.
But as he took a step backwards, ready to start up some minor squabble out of habit, he remembered that where the redhead was, Harry was never far behind.
Sure enough, coming up behind a gaping Ron, was the man that Draco hadn't seen in so very long. The man that plagued Draco's every thought, every movement, every breath.
"Hi," Harry said quietly.
"Hello," Draco replied.