It had never left Draco's mind that Harry was back. He had kept the knowledge stored for only himself for a while, now that a year had passed since the brunette had appeared once more in his life. All the conversations or questioning about Harry had ceased as the time went on, and it became more apparent that Hermione did not believe the man was back. Still, the occasional tingle of the necklace he wore restored the faith he had in Harry's well being, yet even the strongest of evidence did not push Draco to launce an official Ministry investigation into the case of Harry Potter.
Dallas was growing rapidly, the light of day filling the boy's intended height and facial features out in an adolescent glow. He was the spitting cross of both Draco and Harry, but as time went on only the parts of Draco were overtly noticeable. Comforting as that notion was, Draco couldn't help but pang over the fact he had carried Harry's child in hope to remember and have a piece of his lost love. And now that his love that was lost was skirting around his responsibility, it hurt to know that there was eradication of Harry in Dallas. Draco so badly wanted the resemblance to be there.
On a solitary evening out to a place he had never been before, Draco found himself alone at a dimly lit table eating a rather delicious salad. He had the momentary thought that life was good, and looking around with the comforted smile on his face he noticed that a tall dark figure was walking towards him, a nervous grin crossing his features. Draco slowly put down his fork and wiped his mouth with the starched white napkin, making sure all movements were slow in their pace. His eyes were wide and unbelieving, but there he was. "Harry?" Draco asked in disbelieving wonder.
Harry placed his hand on the back of the chair that sat in front of Draco, and pulled the seat out. Once sat down, he languidly smiled at his lover, and it was official that he was back. "Why did you let me go?" Harry asked with a deep voice that rattled against the forgetting mind of Draco.
"It was normal and you had always come back before. Why did you pretend to be dead?"
"You hurt me you know?" Harry asked back, deceit written across his face. Draco felt like Harry resented him and that was a frightening thought. "You encouraged me to go!"
"You always came back before!" Draco cried in whisper whilst his blue eyes darted about, testing the people surrounding them as to eavesdrop into their debate. "You have a son you know?"
Harry's livid face wavered, and within his passionate spirit came about an undying sense of guilt. "I do?" He asked after time, Draco looking on in recognised sadness.
Nodding, Draco affirmed the truth. "His name is Dallas."
"How long have you known I was back?" Harry asked quietly.
"Too long, where did you go?"
"Draco," Harry looked up and into his lovers eyes, "You already know that." He pushed a lock of hair away from Draco's face, smiling as he came into physical contact with his lover for the first time in years. Draco had flinched at the icy feeling Harry brought with him, knowing now that the lies the brunette had spun around himself had damaged their relationship terribly. Harry with all the effort he put into the delicate touch, couldn't deny the fear in Draco's eyes as he attempted the move.
"Didn't you ever wonder to let me know? I- the last day we saw each other- believed that soon you would be home, like always. I never anticipated that you wouldn't come back and that I would have to spend the next few years terribly alone, and frightened because you weren't here. You upped and left me Harry and it wasn't fair at all.
"You knew that I loved you and that I needed you. In my eyes you could see it, and the brazen belief that we would be together forever, and yet you let me believe that you were dead. You were dead, for so long! I was doing fine…"
Harry understood and he nodded because of that, yet his voice wasn't working at the moment for the utter resentment towards himself was brewing. It wasn't unnoticed though that he still felt hate towards his lover for letting him go, but there was the undying notion inside of him that told him this was a product of his own actions, an act that couldn't be transferred onto anybody.
"I'm sorry that you were left alone for so long, Draco. I never meant to hurt you."
"But you did Harry."
"I wish you hadn't let me go, you knew I was sick." Draco reeled back in remembrance, that in fact Harry was increasingly sick towards his date set to leave for Japan. The doctors said it was a minor bug, and nothing could be identified as untoward. Knowingly though Draco sent Harry off to Japan, with the nagging hidden itch that there was something worse with Harry. "I know now that it was a chemical imbalance in my brain. It was the reason I got hit with a curse."
Draco nodded in guilt because it was all he could do in the moment.
:break:
Wondering why he was here with his hand in Harry's barely acknowledged in his brain, was clouded over by the sudden dull realisation that there was a lot to talk about. "Harry-" Draco whispered against the sudden lips that were upon his.
"Lets sit down…" Harry mumbled against Draco's mouth, that had gasped in desperate expression of the situation. Harry was really back, was really here and all he could do was to follow slowly.
Once sitting down beside Harry, who was breathing slowly and calmly; a vibrant difference between Draco's rapid breathing and heavy heartbeat that was rolling over the two. "Oh Draco," Harry said, cupping the side of Draco's face lovingly, "Don't be scared of me…" He purred seductively in a tone that just wasn't right.
"I'm not afraid of you Potter," Draco growled menacingly. Harry smirked suddenly.
"What about all those times in the school corridors, eh? Were you never afraid I might win our war? Were you ever frightened that I may cut you up into little pieces and bury the evidence? How about the time in the girls bathroom when I used Snape's curse on you, were you ever afraid then?"
"I was always terrified by you Potter, yes. But I never backed down did I?"
Harry smiled softly, his eyes slightly cross eyed due to his deep stare into Draco's eyes. "No you never backed down, you just made up an excuse as to why you were hurting. I often wondered though whether you did actually hurt, or whether it was just a word you used to woo me into bed.
"It was always the pretence to our love making, that somehow the war had affected you just as much as it did me. I found it so romantic at first that you would feel the same as I felt or know the same that I knew."
"Are you saying I never felt anything?"
Harry continued unabated, "But when I was in Japan I realised that you couldn't possibly know what I know, or feel what I felt because your not me. Where so much passion lived within us, there was so much lack of communication. When I thought it right to talk, you thought it right to fuck me. I began to wonder whether you used me to get out of rightful sentencing for all the crimes you committed, but there is still so much of me that believes you were never really a part of the Death Eaters. And even though there is so much of us that is alike, I fear we never got to know those things properly because we always had other things on our agenda."
Harry went for silence for a while, knowing it best for reflection when both of them wanted to hurt each other. He smiled a goofy smile before adding to his previous speech, "But I love you, and I always did. I have missed you…"
"We never really said goodbye Harry."
Harry looked thoughtful for a few moments before he responded, "Yeah. I know…"
:break;
Draco tried not to think about Dallas and the implications his actions would have on his son, as he walked hand in hand up the stairs towards his bedroom. His son was staying the night at his friends house, fortunately, and he wouldn't have any knowledge of the sordid action about to take place.
There was something calm in the way they moved; a gap being filled between the time they last saw each other to the present moment. Harry's skin felt wonderful in his hand but the feeling was new again. So fresh were the memories that had risen from deep within storage, such memories of their first times together.
Even the bright lights could outshine the glorious feeling Draco felt, as he led his lover to his chamber to do the things he had missed so much. Their story was written from the times they spent in the bedroom, their love for each other had been spawned from the infamous passion between them. It was still their outlet for many years of hate, and all the things between them were massaged out like knots in the body.
Still Harry was right and they never had really known each other. For all the loving times they shared there was passionate intimacy that blocked out the real thoughts, the real feelings. Undisturbed were the times they fought at Hogwarts and the betrayal between each other. It was poetry, their lovemaking, but left were the words to tell.
And like all great romance there was faded tragedy, still lay the tracks were Draco had cried. As his blonde head met the pillow, and his lover climbed upon him to rid him of his clothes, he noticed that he was in the same place he had retreated to when he had found out about Harry. He was covering up the times he had been in the dark never knowing if Harry might come back, and he was laying upon the fragment of memory of his crying episode when his lover had passed away.
Harry was taking off his shirt when Draco realised that things were never going to be the same. He was deeply wounded by the realisation, as so much feeling and effort had gone in to getting him to this place. He felt rather betrayed by Snape and Hermione, because they were really his only sense of support now he was so very alone. And yet they had fed the belief that Harry was really back. Like any other Wizard on earth, Draco was a natural at analysing chemical reactions within his brain, as the toxin of emotion paled in comparison to his Magical gene. He had fully deduced that what was laying upon him was the ghost of a previous, good and now lost memory.
Still, it felt good to have his Harry's hands washing his sins away. The cool touch of loose fibre of a soul on his skin was enough to settle all that unbecoming doubt, because now he had come to terms with the guilt he felt for letting Harry go he could spend this one night in the company of a very much deceased, but present ghostly lover.
