Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the amazing JK Rowling, and sadly, not me.

Thank you to my beta, HPalto87, and hearts to my reviewers!

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20

Harry woke up with a pounding headache and feeling as if he had been kicked repeatedly in the stomach. He stumbled to the bathroom, where he promptly threw up what little food he had in his stomach from the previous day.

Fred found him slumped over the toilet seat after a few minutes.

"Come on, mate, get up," he demanded.

"No, just leave me here to die in my misery," Harry replied.

Fred shoved a hangover potion into Harry's hand. "Drink this, you'll feel better."

Harry downed the horrible-tasting potion, and groaned when the pain didn't immediately subside.

"Yeah, it takes a few minutes," Fred said knowingly. Harry glared at him in a very Draco-like way.

Once the potion kicked in and Harry felt a bit better, he forced his body off the floor and went in search of his toothbrush, which he was relatively sure he had packed before he stormed out of Hermione and Ron's house.

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Flashback

"Where's my toothbrush, Ollie?" Harry called from the bathroom in their tiny hotel room.

"I don't know, just use mine," Oliver replied.

Harry grabbed Oliver's toothbrush, figuring that the way they had made out the night before, arguing against it was pointless.

When Harry finished and stepped out of the bathroom there was a familiar snowy-white owl sitting on the windowsill.

"Hey Hedwig," Harry said, giving the owl an affectionate pat on the head. "I'm sorry, I don't have any treats for you. I'll tell Draco to give you an extra one when you get back, though."

Harry took the letter Hedwig offered and read it quickly.

Harry,

I promised I'd owl you, so here it is. I hope you're well. I hear Puddlemere United is doing especially well this season, but you are missed here. I'm waiting for you.

Draco.

Harry wasn't sure what he expected from Draco, but it wasn't this. He supposed that Draco was busy. He did have to run Quality Quidditch Supplies by himself. Still, this didn't quite sound like Draco. Harry supposed he had expected a romantic love letter that would make their time spent apart easier, but this was just a short obligatory note letting him know that Draco still existed.

Harry wrote a response that was a bit longer and a bit more heart-felt, and gave it to Hedwig.

"Bring this home to Draco," he told her.

The owl flew out the window and out of sight.

Harry noticed Oliver looking at him oddly. "What?" Harry demanded.

"You look disappointed about something. Are you having problems with Draco?" Oliver asked.

"No," Harry responded.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Then why are we doing this?" he asked, pointing to himself and Harry.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry lied to make himself feel better.

Oliver got up and kissed Harry passionately on the lips. "Why are we doing this?" he asked in a low and seductive voice.

Oliver moved to kiss Harry's neck and jaw line, and Harry didn't stop him.

"Why do you let me hold you, kiss you with a passion you admit you haven't felt with Malfoy in months?" Oliver whispered against Harry's ear.

It wasn't until he kissed his scar that Harry pushed Oliver away.

"Don't-" he started.

"Don't what? You want this," Oliver stated.

"No, I can't do this to Draco," Harry said.

"That's not what you said last night," Oliver replied cheekily. "Or the night before that."

"Well, It's ending now," Harry said unconvincingly.

When they moved on to the next hotel, Harry insisted on rooming with Marco in order to "get to know his other teammates better."

---

Fred and George greeted Harry amicably when he finally felt well enough to wander out of the cluttered little apartment. They told him they had to run their joke shop, but he was free to come and go as he pleased, and they gave him the password to get back into their apartment.

Harry wandered aimlessly around Diagon Alley for a while, but avoiding Quality Quidditch Supplies. He clung tightly to Draco's letter, refusing to part with it for even a moment, though he wasn't sure why. He looked at the sky or the ground as he walked, avoiding the gazes of curious passer-bys. The sky was turbulent, threatening to open up at any moment.

As he walked along the narrow street, and was greeted by familiar witches and wizards, he began to wonder what about his and Draco's life had been so bad. They had friends, a nice place to live, and a successful Quidditch shop. The war was over, and though they had to struggle to get the privacy they desired (both of their names were famous among the wizarding world, after all, even if Draco's was famous for the unfavorable things his family did), they had each other. That should have been enough.

It began to rain, and Harry sought shelter in the nearest shop, which happened to be Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. When Florean saw Harry, he smiled brightly and asked, "Harry! I haven't seen you in quite a while. What will you and Draco have today, the usual?"

Harry and Draco had often come to this shop after a long day of work. They always got a large strawberry sundae and sat in the corner booth, finding ways to eat the fruit in a sexual manner. Usually, they would go home afterwards and have passionate sex, and sometimes more strawberries.

Harry began to think that it had been a very bad idea to come here.

"Err, no, Draco's not with me today," Harry replied.

"That's unusual," Florean said.

"Not so much. We broke up," Harry explained.

"Why?" the shop-owner asked, genuinely bewildered. "You two always looked so happy!"

"I… err…" It suddenly occurred to Harry how bad it would sound if he said they had broken up because he had cheated on Draco with a member of his Quidditch team. "We weren't happy anymore," Harry responded after a pause that lasted just a bit too long.

Harry ordered an ice cream cone, and didn't meet Florean's eyes as he received his treat and paid for it. Harry sat in the corner booth alone and began reading Draco's letter again.

No one should be awake at this god-forsaken hour, but here we are. I can barely function without you. Eating is a chore, sleep is elusive. I'm getting thinner, and Hermione, the only person who will actually talk to me, tells me I look like crap

Don't worry, she didn't use those words. They're a bit crude for her, aren't they? What she actually said was that I'm paler than usual, and I look like I haven't slept for a week.

Harry mused that he felt the same way now. The past few days had been hell on his nerves, his appetite, his appearance. He wasn't sure how he managed to get through his days without breaking down. Though, on some level, he guessed that giving up and getting piss-drunk with Fred and George was not a healthy way of dealing with this stress.

"You always seem to put great care into the way you look, Draco. You've been neglecting that lately," she said.

"I know," I replied. "I haven't taken the time… It doesn't seem to matter when Harry is… like this."

Look how pathetic I am without you, Harry.

I need you to wake up.

Harry wondered if Draco still needed him like that, if he had thought similar things while Harry was away with the Quidditch team. He wondered just how well Draco had gotten along without him over the past two months. They had never had time to talk about it.

Harry re-read a portion of the letter, and realized that Draco had been close to beaking down so many times. Maybe he did actually break down, and was just too proud to say so in his letter. Harry knew him well enough to believe that. He wondered, if he were in the same situation now, would Draco feel the same things that he expressed in the letter?

Part of him said no, that part of their lives was over. They had hurt each other too much to go back. Yet, another part of him said yes, love like that doesn't just disappear. He felt that deep down, they would always have feelings for each other, even if they couldn't make their relationship work.

And they wouldn't be able to make their relationship work, Harry reminded himself. For a moment he had almost been considering getting back together with the git. For just a moment, it seemed as if they actually did talk about this, they could work it out. Harry was deluding himself if he thought that was true, however, and pushed all thoughts on the subject aside.

No, they wouldn't be getting back together.

Harry flipped the page to another entry of Draco's letter. What was written there nearly changed his mind.

"Are you defying me?" I've never seen Father so angry.

I looked up at him. "Yes," I said in barely a whisper. I could tell this was infuriating him, and I pushed it farther. "I love Harry Potter."

He kicked me in the stomach, and pain shot through my body.

Harry was reminded of how much pain Draco had to go through when his father and Voldemort found out about their relationship. He had deliberately gone against everything his father had taught him, everything his family was supposed to stand for. Harry felt horrible for ever doubting his love.

"No more," he said. "Every time I hear that name, I will beat you. Every time you think of boys in that manner, I will make you wish to be dead. Do you understand?"…

"Yes!" I said finally.

Of course, Draco was a Malfoy, after all. He was sarcastic and deceptive by nature. He was spoiled and took everything, including Harry, for granted. Harry couldn't deal with that anymore.

He knew he was making the right decision.