Back to You
Harry x Draco
Harry hadn't expected that he would return to the flat any time soon, but he still needed to get the things that he had left behind. Although he wasn't really sure if he really wanted to see his lover again. After all, he was the one to walk away from the relationship first, not Malfoy.
Now he was here, in the bedroom he had shared with Malfoy, packing up the things that were too important to leave behind. Malfoy was watching him from the doorway with his arms crossed. Harry was afraid to look at him, because if he did, his heart would start to hurt. Even though it was hurting right now anyway.
Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes on him, staring at the back of his head. Harry placed the photo album that Hagrid had given him in the bag and closed it with a final snap of the buttons, announcing his completion of that task. He could almost hear Malfoy's flinch at the sound.
"That should be it." Harry said out loud to himself.
Malfoy said nothing, moving his eyes to the floor as Harry looked back at him. He had that fierce look in them again as the room seemed to fill with a familiar uneasy air. It was that uneasiness that Harry hated in their relationship, most of the time they were together, that uneasy vicious air would settle. No matter how many times he had tried to dissolve it, it just kept coming back no matter what he tried.
"So you're really going through with this, huh?" Malfoy asked his eyes locked on the floor with an almost angry tone.
Harry nodded, "It's just that..." Harry couldn't find the strength to finish, that ache was starting to come back again, the ache that told him not the go.
"Just that what?" Malfoy repeated with a questioning tone.
"I can't take it." Harry said, closing his eyes tight as he grabbed his bag.
It had been almost a month since Harry had first left, and he couldn't understand why it still hurt. He started to walk out of the room, stopped by Malfoy who grabbed his free hand.
"Let me go." Harry said pleadingly, but Malfoy did not let go, he could never let him go.
"Potter listen to me…" Malfoy started.
"Oh, so we're no longer using first names anymore?" Harry asked bitterly, adding a vicious "Malfoy" as an afterthought.
Malfoy still didn't let go. They weren't looking at each other, shoulder to shoulder, hair covering their eyes.
"What had I done wrong?" Malfoy asked.
"You had never forgiven me." Harry answered, that was all he needed to say for Malfoy to understand.
"And I never will." Malfoy said back softly, as if regretting it.
Harry felt the tears in his eyes. He pulled from Malfoy's grip and ran. He ran out the door and out into the daylight, disappearing with a crack as his tears fell.
Malfoy looked up from the spot on the floor; he too had tears streaming down his cheeks. He slid down the doorframe to sit on the carpet. Malfoy put his face in his hands, but the tears still fell.
"How can I forgive you, when you're the one who made me this way?" Malfoy said softly, holding the hand he had grabbed Harry's hand with to his lips. Outside, storm clouds were starting to float over the flat.
The months passed slowly and neither had heard from each other since that day. Malfoy didn't know where Harry had gotten to, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. He had reserved himself to the living room, sleeping on the couch instead of in the bed that only brought back memories.
It was raining outside; he could hear it but not see it, having drawn all the shades closed. It had been raining off and on continually since Harry had left. He had always hated days like this for one reason or another. Malfoy was seated by the fireplace, sipping coffee he had made earlier in the day. It didn't have any taste to it anymore. Nothing really had any taste since he had left.
Malfoy was staring absently at the flickering flames in the grate, how they seemed to dance. He was thinking about him again, that black hair and green eyes. He was lost in how things had been before he had left.
He remembered how, on special occasions, he and Harry would laugh at each other while they were lying in bed. How Harry would throw the covers over their heads and ravish the blond. How, on that day, the sun was just bright enough to illuminate under the white cotton sheets, making Harry seem angelic smiling down at him.
"But all that's gone." Malfoy said absently, his voice weak. "Just because I couldn't forgive him for what he had done to my family."
Harry had been the one to turn in Malfoy's father. He had been the reason that his mother had to go to such desperate heights to just save his life. If Harry hadn't done anything, than Malfoy's family would still be around. If Harry hadn't done anything…then they never would have… been together.
Malfoy set down his coffee cup and placed his face in his hands. He had to try to stop thinking about it; it hurt to think about it.
There was a sudden wild knocking at Malfoy's door that made him jump. He quickly whipped off his face and straitened up, heading for the door. Malfoy had barely opened it when someone pushed it open and arms were flung around him.
Malfoy was looking into a mess of wet black hair.
"P-Potter?" Malfoy said, nearly breathless.
Harry said nothing, and looked up at the blond. His glasses were speckled with rain and his face covered with ether rain drops or tears.
"I mucked up." Harry said absently.
"Pardon?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
Harry didn't answer. He leaned in and captured Malfoy's bottom lip between his teeth, suckling on it and running his tongue along the smooth skin. Malfoy's knees nearly gave out and he had to hold onto Harry for support. Harry had never kissed him like this before, it was demanding and strong and desperate. He was starting to feel that familiar tingle on his whole body, the same as any other time Harry had kissed him.
Malfoy felt himself giving in and he liked it, he wanted this again, it just felt right. Everything had taste again. Harry's taste, always sweet like a hot butterbeer, with a strange flavor at the back of the mouth he could never figure out. And Harry's hands on him, he couldn't wait to feel those rough, war torn, hands on his skin again. And it looks like he's going to get his wish.
Somehow the door was closed and they had made it to their bedroom. Yes, their bedroom, for it seemed that was the direction this was going in. Malfoy didn't care; he had Harry to himself again. Harry was here, holding him, lowering him down onto the bed that hadn't been slept in, in weeks. And words were no longer needed.
It was now just them, the rain was drowned out and the pain seemed to disapperate. All there was now was the two on the bed; hands, skin, mouths, and the feelings that were once lost to both.
Harry's war torn hands felt good on Draco, even though they were as cold as the rain that covered them. The calloused finger tips, from years of holding none stop to the hilt of a wand, felt more like silk then sandpaper. Harry's body shivered against Draco's, his whole form cold and wet, but nether of them cared. They were together again.
They came together and it felt so good, so fulfilling, so very right. Shuddering against each other mindlessly, breathing together and their lips seeking each other once again. And they slept like that, twined together, Harry resting comfortably with his head under Draco's chin. And that is how they woke up the next morning.
Draco was first, contently running his fingers though Harry damp inky locks with one hand and absently drawing random pictures on Harry's back with the other. The sun was out at last and the room was brightly lit once again. He had found his peace at last, where they were both meant to be and stay.
Of course, telling Harry he now could forgive him can wait a bit longer, just until the man woke up.
Harry sighed in his sleep, smiling contently and Draco couldn't help but smile too. Yes, telling Harry could wait a bit longer. After all… they now had forever together.