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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24
We spent all that time and effort making people believe we hated each other. We did a pretty damn good job, didn't we?
So, now we need to convince them that it was all a ruse. We need to prove to them all that we never actually stopped loving each other.
You need to wake up, Harry, so we can.
It wasn't a trick this time, not like that day in Hogsmeade. As much as Harry was beginning to wish this had all been a horrible nightmare, it was real. This time, there was nothing to prove, and no hope.
Harry put his head in his hands. Draco could be an arse, but he had loved him and stood by him when Harry needed him the most. He didn't think he would have been able to heal the way he did after the war if Draco hadn't been there to support him. As much as he loved Ron and Hermione, and as much as he appreciated all of the Weasleys and his friends, his relationship with Draco ran so much deeper.
Harry began to realize that his thoughts kept contradicting themselves, and this only made him more frustrated. One moment he was trying to come up with ways to move on, the next he was trying to find ways to forgive, or beg forgiveness. At least when he was in St. Mungo's, there had been no question about how much he and Draco loved each other. At least, not in their minds. It had taken some convincing to get their friends to believe it.
What was he looking for in this letter, anyway?
Wake up, Harry, please wake up.
I can't go on without you.
I… I bought a draught of Eternal Sleep a few days ago. I wasn't going to tell you, but there it is. I won't have to live without you. We'll be together, whether in life or death.
The little vial… Harry opened the box and took out the black, swirling potion. Draught of Eternal Sleep. Draco was willing to die for Harry…
Harry had to choke back tears. The full weight of what must have been happening while he was unconscious at St. Mungo's finally hit him. Draco had been a wreck. He must have felt so helpless, to do this.
Harry hated the idea of the guy he loved dying for him, especially since that guy was the proud, selfish Draco Malfoy. No, he wasn't selfish if he would do this. But wasn't it a bit cowardly? Wasn't it giving up? Harry was torn. Dying for love was such a noble, Gryffindor thing to do, though. He supposed he had gotten through to Draco on some level, even if it wasn't immediately obvious on the surface.
Harry put the potion back into the box, and went back to Draco's words.
I want to do silly romantic things with you. Watch the sun rise; eat dinner by candlelight; wine and roses. I want you to know how much you are loved. I want everyone else to know, too.
The last time they had done something romantic was the night they had slept under the stars. It felt so long ago.
We can get married, adopt a kid or two, have a real family. I know you never had one growing up, so I want to give that to you. I want to give you everything you could ever want.
But he hadn't. Harry wanted to get angry again. They hadn't gotten married, and any mention of adopting had been quickly shot down by Draco. Harry had never gotten the family he wanted. Granted, his life with Draco wasn't bad, it just wasn't what he expected.
Harry tried to get angry, but he was tired. His emotions were over-worked, and all he felt now was numb. All he wanted to do was curl up beside Draco, apologize, and have hot make-up sex.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I couldn't imagine losing you again.
I love you, Harry.
Marry Me.
It was so heartfelt. Harry stared at the parchment in disbelief. Why hadn't Draco ever actually proposed to him? He would have said yes. It would have made a difference if their relationship was actually going somewhere. It had just grown so stagnant. The passion that such a young couple should have was gone. Well, except when it came to sex.
Yet, Harry knew he had hurt Draco. He reflected that it hadn't been such a good idea to give in to Oliver's advances. Harry had let the little things get in the way of his relationship with Draco instead of trying to work it out. Any attempts to resurrect things were quickly pushed aside in order to satisfy physical desires, first with Draco, and later with Oliver when his boyfriend wasn't around. Apparently, sex was more important to him than the solidity of a loving relationship.
'I've been horrible,' Harry thought as he got up and continued walking.
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Flashback
Harry assumed that after Draco had left he went home. As soon as he could get out of the stadium, he grabbed his things from the hotel and took a portkey back to England, then apparated to their house. Harry usually avoided apparating, as he hated the twisting feeling in his stomach, but the situation was too urgent to try to find a floo, and flying would take too long. He wanted to catch up to his boyfriend as soon as possible.
Ex-boyfriend.
No, he wouldn't lose him that easily.
"Draco?" he called. He wandered through the house, looking for his lover- no, ex-lover- but it quickly became apparent that he wasn't there. "Draco?"
Harry slumped down onto the bed. The one they had shared for the past five years. Harry didn't want to give this up, but they were both hurt so much. He had tried so hard to make things work, but never hard enough. There were always things in the way. Finally, Draco had driven him away, and he had sought the love and comfort he hadn't been getting from his boyfriend, who was supposed to love him unconditionally, in Oliver.
Draco had been making him miserable for some time now, and the love they had shared had faded. Oliver had treated Harry better in the short time they had been together than Draco had in a long time.
Harry punched a pillow angrily to relieve some frustration, but it didn't help. Realizing that such violence would do no good at all, he put his head in his hands in order to dwell on the situation.
He had cheated on Draco, and had been caught. Their relationship was over.
Harry realized that, although Draco wasn't there at the moment, he would be coming home eventually. He decided he needed to be gone before then. He opened his yet-unpacked suitcase, cast a bottomless charm on it, and began packing.
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'What am I doing here?' Harry thought, looking up at the house he had shared with Draco for the past five years.
The doorknocker looked at him expectantly. "Password?" it asked.
Harry just sighed and stepped off the porch. He didn't want to go in yet. Draco was probably in there. Probably warm and safe in that big bed. Alone. Harry wished he could be with him. No matter what, he couldn't stop loving Draco.
He wandered around to the back of the house, where he could enjoy the warm night air, and not have to worry about confronting Draco yet. The more Harry dwelled on the situation, the more incoherent his thoughts became. He opted to read the end of the letter instead of thinking so much.
By the time he got to the end, he was in tears again.
