Title: Escape

Author: Dark Phoenix

Summary: Just before their twentieth Hogwarts reunion, Harry and Draco hear an old familiar song, and it makes them doubt their relationship. Or maybe it's just what they needed to rekindle the old flames.

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Warning: Language (I don't think a single F-bomb warrants an M rating. This is pretty tame otherwise).

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this. I also don't own The Piña Colada Song or the brief lines which appear in this fic.

Notes: This takes place in 2019, but it's just after Draco's birthday, so what better time to post it than today? Fun fact: Harry and Draco were born on the same day of the week (Thursday).


~ Escape ~

The day after Draco's thirty-ninth birthday, he squinted one eye open to see a rather dreary, overcast day waiting for him outside. He sighed and sat up in bed, finding the weather strangely appropriate. His birthday falling midweek had already taken away from its specialness; going out for a celebratory dinner with close friends and family on a Wednesday night had felt more like another obligation crammed into the middle of a busy week than anything. And the fact he was now less than a year away from forty just made it worse. He remembered staring in the mirror the previous morning, wondering if his hair was starting to look more white than blond these days.

Beside him, Harry stirred before also sitting up and rubbing his face. There was no question that his hair had been trending more towards salt-and-pepper than pure black for some time. Harry stood and stumbled towards the bathroom, and Draco couldn't help noticing for the first time that the gray wasn't limited to just Harry's head.

Draco stared after him, blinking and wondering if he should be concerned that he'd grown too accustomed to the sight of Harry's naked body if the only thing he could think of when he saw it was gray hair.

With a groan, he stood up (and how long had he been groaning every time he stood up? It certainly didn't feel like the first time) and joined Harry in the bathroom. It was a work day, after all. He'd have to save the midlife crisis for the weekend.


"Can you believe it's been twenty years already since we've graduated?"

Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he saw Draco start at his words. "What?"

Instead of answering him, Harry reread the Hogwarts invitation in his hand. Twenty years. Was he really that old? He remembered teasing Draco just the other day about turning forty next year and winced. It had been funny then, but now it hit a bit too close to home. The invitation may as well have read, "Congratulations, you're old!"

A shadow fell over the desk Harry was sitting at, and he looked up to see Draco, frowning down at him in confusion. Draco's eyes fell on the invitation and his frown deepened, accentuating the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. "Is that what I think it is?"

Harry handed him the letter. "Congratulations, you're old," he said.

"That's not funny," said Draco, swatting him with the letter. He skimmed it, then dropped it back on the desk. "Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to go?"

Harry blinked. "I guess I kind of assumed we would."

"Well, it's not until the end of July," Draco said, a faraway look in his eyes. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking.

He looked back down at the invitation. Twenty years. That was about how long he and Draco had been together, as well. Most of their class had returned to finish their education, and that last year had been a difficult, but incredibly rewarding one. It had been a time of pain and suffering and resentment, but also healing and forgiveness.

And new beginnings.

Harry and Draco had ended up getting married a year later, on July 3, 2000, the halfway point between their birthdays. At the time, their relationship still fairly new and most of their friends still openly skeptical, he couldn't have imagined being together for twenty years.

But now they had, and now that Harry realized it, he couldn't stop thinking about what a long time twenty years really was.


Draco sat at the Muggle bar, sipping a beer and half-listening to Pansy chattering away about the latest gossip. He didn't have to give her all his attention to know what she would be talking about: men, who was dating whom, men, whatever outrageously ugly outfit someone had worn to the latest function she'd attended, and men.

" . . . She has to know she's not even remotely in his league," Pansy was saying. "She's nothing but a charity case, and everyone knows it but her."

"Pathetic," Draco agreed. He wasn't sure exactly who she was talking about, but he'd discovered years ago that pathetic was a valid response, like, ninety percent of the time.

Pansy went quiet, and Draco sensed her studying him. "You've been in a weird mood all night," she said at last. "You haven't even gone out on the dance floor once yet."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He shrugged. "It's been a long week." He really wasn't in the mood to discuss his feelings, and Pansy really wasn't one to ask in the first place, so why was she starting now?

Now she was scrutinizing him, and Draco felt a twinge of panic, a holdover from their Hogwarts days when he'd actually been concerned with what other people thought of him. He felt a sudden urge to ask her to dance just so she would stop looking at him like that, but he knew it wouldn't help.

"Hmmm," she said, sipping her drink, her eyes still on him. She stood up abruptly. "Well, I'm going to go dance. You can keep brooding if you like."

Draco watched her go, knowing he hadn't heard the end of it. He downed his beer and ordered another as the current song ended and the next one started.

"I was tired of my lady,

We'd been together too long . . . "

Draco sat up straighter as the song continued to play. He'd heard this old Muggle song countless times, but this was the first time he'd really listened to it. Was that what was happening? he wondered. Had he and Harry been together too long? Had they, too, grown tired of each other? His first instinct was to cry, no, but something told him that maybe that was exactly what was going on. Draco frowned as he considered his options. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to feel trapped in their relationship if he was ready to move on. And Draco certainly didn't want to be with someone who was tired of him. Maybe they both needed something new to break up the monotony in their lives. He listened, his beer forgotten, hell, everything around him forgotten, as if his life depended on every word of the song.

When the music ended, he blinked as he came back to himself. Out on the dance floor, he saw Pansy eyeing him curiously, but it no longer mattered. He knew what he had to do.


After twenty years, the days had fallen into a predictable routine, and Saturdays were no different. Draco had gone out dancing with Pansy, as usual, while Harry went to a pub with his own friends. Harry didn't care much for dancing; he'd always preferred a more low-key environment where he could simply relax and enjoy the music and the company.

This Saturday found Harry at one of his favorite haunts, a Muggle bar that played classic rock and never got too crowded. Beside him, Seamus and Dean were arguing about which football teams could beat which Quidditch teams and vice versa. Harry smiled and sipped his beer.

"I'm just saying, no one could stop the Tornadoes in the air or on the ground," said Seamus.

"That's because you haven't seen Chelsea in action," Dean countered. "If they had magic, they'd be unbeatable."

Harry was getting a weird mental image of football players on brooms when the music ended and "The Piña Colada Song" began to play. He perked up, the conversation around him fading into the background as he listened to the words. It was a familiar song, but for some reason he found it resonating with him more than usual. He and Draco had been together a long time, he thought. Was twenty years too long? Was Draco getting tired of him? The idea made him ache, but if it was true, Harry couldn't just ignore it and pretend everything was fine. Maybe this was the start of a midlife crisis. The song played on with Harry still deep in thought.

Maybe we should consider ending things, he mused, and the thought was like being stabbed in the gut. He hoped that wasn't what Draco wanted, but what if he'd had the same thought? For a second, Harry actually felt like he couldn't breathe.

"All right there, Harry?" Dean asked. "You look a little ill."

Harry turned to him, startled. He'd almost forgotten his friends were right there next to him. "Fine," he said. "Probably just had a bit too much to drink."

It was a lie — rather than feeling drunk, he suddenly felt completely sober. For the first time, he was unsure of how things stood between him and Draco, but as the song ended, he knew what he had to do.


Draco surveyed the closet he'd shared with Harry for the past two decades. He was the only one home, having taken Friday afternoon off to give himself time to get this done before Harry came home. It had been a busy week for him, making plans and arrangements, and even sneaking over to the Ministry to have a quick chat with Harry's boss while he knew Harry was out on a mission. Now he stood beside an empty suitcase, ready to work on the last piece of the puzzle.

Harry's clothes, much like everything about Harry, littered his half of the closet in semi-disarray, having resisted most of Draco's efforts to keep the place neat and orderly. Draco picked up a battered red hoodie that he knew was Harry's favorite. It smelled like Harry — that unique combination of broom polish and treacle tart that Harry always managed to make room for, even when he was trying to eat healthy, and Harry's usual cheap hygiene products. And a hint of the fancy French perfume Draco had had custom made just for Harry, each individual note of fragrance chosen to most perfectly complement Harry's own natural scent. Harry had rolled his eyes at the gift, but Draco had caught him dabbing it on more than once on some special occasion, always acting embarrassed as if he'd needed an excuse to wear it. Draco smiled fondly as he folded up Harry's hoodie and moved on to the next thing. He ignored the tears prickling the corners of his eyes. No need to get so sentimental over a ratty old hoodie.

It felt as though everything in the closet triggered some fond memory of their years together, and by the time Draco was finished, his eyes were a bit raw and he had only a matter of minutes before Harry returned home. Leaving behind a closet more organized than it had been in years, he grabbed the suitcases and hurried down the stairs just as the front doorknob started to turn.


"Thank Merlin it's Friday," Harry muttered to himself as he pulled into the driveway. It had been a long week, and he was more than ready for a relaxing weekend. Minister Shacklebolt must have felt the same, because he'd let Harry leave early — in fact, he'd all but shoved Harry out the door at least fifteen minutes before his shift was over, insisting he go straight home and take a load off.

His stomach rumbled, and he wondered if Draco had started dinner yet. If he hadn't, Harry was going to suggest ordering takeaway and binge-watching Game of Thrones. Draco liked to pretend he was above Muggle culture, but Harry wasn't fooled. The past month had been unusually busy for them both, but not too busy for Draco's ever so casual reminders that they still hadn't seen the finale.

Harry smiled to himself as he climbed the front steps. That sounded like a good plan for tonight, he thought. He turned the knob and let himself in.

"Harry! You're home early."

Harry looked up to see Draco coming down the steps. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly, but there it was. Draco was standing there, dressed in shorts and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, a suitcase in each hand. Harry's heart plummeted.

They stared at each other for a tense moment, both unsure of what to do or say, before Harry remembered his resolve from the last weekend. I'm not giving up without a fight, he thought. He must know me better than that. Which made perfect sense — why else would he be trying to sneak off before Harry came home? Well, Harry wasn't about to make it that easy for him.

"Going somewhere?" he demanded, adopting his intimidating-Auror stance: folded arms, raised chin, stern facial expression.

Draco hurried down the rest of the steps, looking completely unimpressed. "Yes, actually," he said, and then he had the nerve to hand Harry one of the suitcases. "Take this, will you?"

Harry sneered down at the suitcase. "Look, I know things have been getting a bit stale lately, but if you think I'm going to help you run out on me, you've got another thing coming."

Draco blinked up at him. "What? Oh, Harry—" He dropped the suitcases and burst into laughter, bending over and clutching his middle with the force of it. "Is that what you think is going on? You idiot—" He laughed again. Harry started tapping his foot, impatient for Draco to stop laughing and start explaining.

"You're right about one thing," Draco said at last, wiping his eyes. "We might've been together too long, but I'm not trying to run out on you, for Merlin's sake." He grabbed the suitcases and held one out to Harry again with clear exasperation. "This one's yours. You're coming with me."

Harry frowned, bewildered, allowing his intimidating stance to droop. "Coming with you where?"

"We're going to Hawaii for a couple weeks. We need a holiday — I can't even remember the last time we had one. I've already made all the arrangements, so we need to get to the airport."

"But I have work on Monday," Harry said, more confused by the minute.

"No, you don't," said Draco. "I already talked to Shacklebolt, and he agreed with me. Everything's been taken care of." He pushed the suitcase into Harry's hand, and Harry took it this time. "So . . . come with me and escape?"

Harry smiled, taking a firmer grip on the suitcase as everything started coming together. Then he laughed, bracing himself against the door with his free hand. Draco watched with a bemused expression as Harry struggled to compose himself.

"You heard that song, too, huh?" he said. At Draco's nod, he continued. "Well, they say great minds think alike. I made plans for a holiday in Tahiti two weeks from now, on our anniversary."

Draco stared at for a moment, agape, then also burst into laughter. He dropped his suitcase and slid his arms around Harry's waist. "You know, I don't think I could ever get tired of you," he said, giving Harry a soft, lingering kiss.

"Me neither." Harry smiled back, letting himself get lost in Draco's eyes. When was the last time they'd simply looked at each other like this? He almost didn't want to let go.

Draco appeared just as reluctant as he unwound his arms from Harry and picked up the suitcase again. "Okay, we really do need to go, now," he said. "We have a flight to catch."

Harry opened the door and they hurried down the steps. As they made their escape, he realized that he couldn't wait to see what the next twenty years together would bring.

~ fin ~


Thanks for reading and/or reviewing!

Note: I know next to nothing about Premier League teams and have no opinion on any of them. For Dean's comment, I literally googled "best Premier League teams" and picked one. So if you're not a Chelsea fan, don't blame me, blame Google.