A/N: So, this is goodbye. I might be back another time, but for now I'm going to England for three months to work. I'm going by boat sunday. I hope you enjoyed the story. Look out, or I might drop a story on your head when you're not looking. Thanks for your reviews. I'm glad I managed to finish this before I went away.
waves and blows kisses, then retreats into the shadows, leaving only a battered parchment behind… one that says:
EPILOGUE – Diagon Alley
This was it. For real. He had known since the day he realised he was in love with Harry – or something similar to love – that sooner or later he would be forced to recognise them.
"I don't like it, Har," he grumbled. "And I don't see that you have any logical reasons for forcing me to do this." He knew that was a lie, really, considering they were his best friends, but that didn't stop him from sulking a little. It was not like he wasn't going to face them. Of course he would – Harry had been bugging him for weeks about it. And there had been no real arguments from the beginning, except for the usual ones – and those usually ended with kisses… Draco had known Harry well before and there was no hiding now. The dark-haired little devil would not give up on this matter.
"But you will do it." The voice would brook no nonsense. "Come on." With those words, the Hero of the World, Draco Malfoy's soul-brother, marched in through the door of the restaurant in Diagon Alley where he had decided to meet Ron and Hermione after they had come home from visiting Charlie in Bulgaria. They would all be back in school tomorrow and it was best to have it all over. He had gone as far as telling them he was seeing someone in his letters. He had even corrected them when they without a second thought assumed that it was a girl. But how could he have told them? Him and Draco were so close, although they had learned to shut each other out partly there was no way they could be separated as long as the shards of that odd little crystal lived on in their hearts. He was not sure if Ron would understand that. Hermione was another matter, she could always be convinced by logic, but Ron could be stubborn and bone-headed when it got to things he didn't understand.
"Harry!" Hermione jumped from the table and sprung at him and wrapped her arms around him, smiling angelically while nearly knocking him over in the process. "I have missed you so terribly," she almost whined at him before letting go to sit down beside her boyfriend at the table again.
"Hey, mate, the entire family's been missing you," Ron said in a haughty, yet affectionate tone. "Mum kept whining about you not being able to come along, but you can go with us next year! It was totally cool…" The red-head suddenly seemed to remember why they had a table for four instead of three. "Ahh," he almost stammered, "where's your… uh, boyfriend?" There was a distinct reddish nuance to his cheeks.
"Oh yeah," Harry replied, suddenly very nervous himself. This wasn't easy, but he couldn't remember when his life last had been easy. This was simply a new kind of trouble, one he wasn't used to. That thought didn't make this the slightest easier, however. "He'll be inside in a moment," he mumbled, green eyes somehow only watching the table. "Wanted to give us some time together first."
"Well, that's nice," Hermione said. He could almost hear the way she always smiled when saying such things, but there were hints of curiosity and caution. Very Hermion-esque, for sure. Like a little hen mother, Harry thought, always trying to keep the chickens under her wing.
After a couple of minutes, Draco figured he would not gather more courage by just standing there. This is so utterly and, to be frank, brutally awkward. There just is no getting out of this with my honour and my insides both intact. Whatever innocence Har holds for those two, that has certainly not spread… he thought harshly to himself. I have no illusions about what they might do if they believe I am bad influence on him… I did grow up with my father, after all. As the thoughts passed through his mind he also came to the conclusion that he was only postponing the inevitable and that the wisest thing to do now – except for turn tail and run – would be to get inside and get this over with.
Being who he was, Draco stood nailed to the spot for another minute before amassing enough willpower to do so.
"Harry," Ron hissed to his friend. "Guess who just came in through that door to spoil our day!" He sounded annoyed and Harry was quite sure that he must be.
"I have a pretty good idea," he mumbled, but there was no reaction from Ron. Hermione, on the other hand gave him a questioning look that spoke volumes of her thoughts. Which, if he knew her right, were probably even more volumes than she expressed. His brown-haired best friend always had a lot to say about everything. Things such as this… would probably make her even more opinionated than usual. Not that it really mattered, she would accept the decision sooner or later.
"Ugh, Malfoy warning," Ron mumbled.
"I know, Ron. I invited him." Those three words took all his world-famous courage and the straight face that followed was harder than that, but somehow he managed to meet Ron's stunned glance with an emerald gaze of his own.
"What?" Ron's comment would have been a scream, were it not for that he half-choked on his sandwich in the process – a fact that Harry had to ashamedly admit he was kind of happy for. He would have been happiest if there was no grand scene to handle – but that would probably be asking too much, he thought with a sigh.
"Ron, be calm," Hermione chided him absent-mindedly, her slightly narrowed eyes fixed upon the silver-haired Slytherin she had disliked so intensely. There was, in her eyes, in fact something changed about him. The way he walked was less arrogant, though no less certain. His eyes, first fixed on Harry's back, turned to meet hers and held more questions than the preposterous answers-to-everything she had gotten used to. It could be a scam, that much was certain. A Slytherin was a Slytherin for a reason. And again, Ron interrupted her train of thought. He still sounded half-choked, but this time it didn't have anything to do with his meal.
"You can't seriously… but, mate, you know who he is!"
"Yes, Ron," she heard Harry agree. This was like a dream – or more precisely a nightmare. Hermione didn't really have a problem with her best friend being gay, but this was more than that… light-years further, in her opinion. And she watched in silence as the storm broke out between her two best friends. There had been issues between them before, for sure, but none of this magnitude, and Harry believed in this. She could read it in his eyes, his body language, his words. What she was uncertain of was simply whether he was right to believe, considering whom it was he believed in. Then, to her surprise, Harry was interrupted in mid-defence by a lean hand on his shoulder.
"Harry, please," Draco whispered softly to his lover. "Don't." As green eyes sought out icy grey ones with all the obvious questions clear in his gaze, the pale boy smiled weakly.
"What?" Harry wondered, dazed and confused. The sorrow in the eyes he saw could not have been deciphered by anyone who did not truly know Draco Malfoy as the dark-haired Golden Boy now did, but deciphering it did not help explaining it to Harry. Draco's expression and attitude spoke of certainty, even of his old arrogance, but his eyes told quite another story.
"I don't belong here," Draco explained, almost as if speaking to a child. "I couldn't before and I can't now. When we choose to be who we are we don't ask everyone if they're all right with it and in turn, very few ask us in return before judging us for who we've chosen to be." A pale hand caressed a darker cheek fondly. "People grow apart, because of the paths they choose. It is the way of things that any piece of a puzzle doesn't fit with every other. I will wait for you outside, don't hurry. Spend some time with your friends, that's what I want." With that, he turned, leaving Harry standing where he had risen as his love spoke, still stubbornly refusing to accept the solution, but unable to find the words to stop Draco from withdrawing. Hermione reached across the table put a comforting hand on his.
"I still can't say I like him," she stated in a thoughtful manner, "but you have to believe him when he's right."
And through the streets of London people walked past the lean, pale boy standing on a corner. He seemed to be patiently waiting for something, or someone. The perceptive onlooker might have noticed something strange about him. Most would have discarded it as foolishness, but there was a kind of glow in his eyes – grey as winter skies – one that was not common even in the wizard world. There was something special about that boy. Those who recognised him as the Malfoy heir turned away their inquisitive glances, afraid to anger the young man, but couldn't help but cast a last glance as they walked past.
But they would not have been able to see into his heart, where a shard of a jewel resided –half a teardrop, where it kept shining as brightly as a sun of ocean-blue resting in a foreign universe, continually calling to its other half. The song he could hear emitting from his heart was solitary like a lost werewolf whose cry echoed across the chill of the tundra, searching for the part that would complete the song and give peace to the unwitting composer. But he stood there, patiently allowing his heart to wail its loneliness to the skies, for the young man in that street seemed certain.
The rain clouds gathered slowly over the city, preparing to wash away the last of winter's snow for the year. They were thunderclouds, and the flashes of lightning were already dancing in the distance, above the skyscrapers. In the young man's home, the dragons would be soaring in a storm like this one, battling in the clouds, playing with the lightning. Tonight, he and Harry would return to his home. This one time, Draco would ask his friends of the sky to dance. They enjoyed it tremendously. And in his heart, Draco was convinced that Harry would, too. If they were lucky, they would both dance with those dragons tonight.
He carefully turned a page in the book he hid in his newspaper, for he would not allow it to be taken from him. There was still much to learn – a lifetime of his mother's knowledge – and both he and his lover would be there to see it through to the end.
finis
