A/N: The final chapter, my loves! Are we ready? Are we braced? Are we buckled in and prepared for reconciliations? I sure as hell hope so, because here we go right now!
THE LOVE THAT FOLLOWS
Chapter 8—Near an Open Window
The corridor was cold. The air felt like ice around him. It was silent and cold, and Harry honestly was not sure what had made him drag himself from the warmth of his bed and out through the portrait hole, but something was making him restless, making him itch for a nighttime stroll. He had lain in bed for hours, twitching and fidgeting and unable to fall asleep. Thoughts of Draco would not stop invading his mind, taking it over in a way that made Harry want to scream.
Two weeks.
It had been two weeks since the Hospital Wing, and the thoughts were still not getting any better; Harry was still having trouble sleeping. He couldn't sleep at night and he couldn't focus in class, and he wasn't sure how to get his mind back onto the things he should actually be thinking about instead of evil blond prats who weren't actually evil prats at all, but secretly sweet and beautiful and loving and possessed the ability to suck Harry's sanity out through a single kiss.
Without consciously choosing a destination or telling his brain where to lead him, Harry found himself outside the East Tower, wondering if he should actually go inside or just go back to bed.
"May as well torture myself even more," Harry muttered to himself, easing the heavy door open enough to slip inside, shivering as he realized it was even colder in the tower than it was in the corridor. Pulling out his wand to cast a warming charm over himself, he froze as he heard a noise, a soft sound like someone shifting, and Harry's head whipped up, gasping at the sight that met him.
Draco stood near the open window, gazing down at the ground miles below, silver hair shining like moonlight. His skin was so pale that it did not even appear to be real; he looked for all the world to be carved from marble or porcelain, and Harry wanted to drift close enough to touch him, just to find out if his skin really was made of cold stone or if Harry would feel warm flesh beneath his fingertips.
"What are you doing here?" Harry blurted suddenly, startling himself into gasping again at the unexpected question; he was pretty sure he had not actually been intending to speak.
Malfoy jumped violently, spinning around to face Harry, both boys' eyes growing wide with panic at the sight of one another.
"Harry," he choked out, pressing back into the wall behind him.
"What are you doing right next to the window?" Harry asked, sounding upset as he wondered just what the hell Draco had come up to that tower to do. He did not like the sight of Malfoy standing anywhere near that goddamn window, especially while it was flung wide open.
"Just looking," Malfoy flushed, dropping his gaze. "I—I wasn't going to do anything. That's not what I came up here for." His voice was bitter and defensive, and Harry felt his jaw tighten as he nodded, hating how uncomfortable he now felt around the boy he thought he might have been falling in love with so short a time ago, before the entire world had imploded in burning pain and hurt feelings.
"Right," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from clenching. "Well. Have fun looking then, I guess. Sorry, I'll leave you alone." He turned to leave but was stopped by the sound of his name.
"Harry," Draco called, and Harry automatically turned his head, wondering what Malfoy wanted. Did he want another apology? Did he want to shout horrid things at Harry and accuse him of sexual assault? Harry wouldn't blame him at all if he did. He probably would have done the exact same thing in the other boy's place.
"Potter," Draco corrected himself a moment later, speaking to the floor, and Harry felt his stomach drop at the painful regression back to surnames. It looked like they were right back to the clearly defined and oh-so-distant rules that Harry had wanted for them at the very beginning of this whole mess.
"Yeah?" he asked in a flat, resigned voice.
"I—" Malfoy cleared his throat, taking one small step forward. "I—I wanted to talk to you."
"Right," Harry sighed heavily, already knowing what the blond wanted to say. "Well, that's fair. If you need to yell at me or hex me or punch me in the face, or whatever it is you need to do, I won't stop you."
"What?" Draco asked sharply, taking another step forward in surprise as his head snapped up. "Why would you think I would want to do any of those things?"
"Because," Harry shrugged, waving one hand in frustration, "because of everything that happened. Because—because I'd deserve it, I s'pose."
"I—Harry…" Draco looked lost for a moment, standing before the window in a halo of silver moonlight, appearing small and confused and lost in the cold darkness of the vast night sky behind him, and the sight made Harry's heart hurt. "Potter…"
Harry's heart hurt even more at the sound of his surname.
"That's not what I wanted, that's not what I was planning on doing," Draco said, taking another step forward.
"What, then?" Harry asked, unsure how to name any of the dozens of emotions howling fiercely throughout him, clamoring loudly enough to nearly drown out the beating of his hammering heart or the deafening rush of blood in his ears. "What do you want, Draco?"
At the sound of his name, Malfoy's eyes widened as a fusillade of emotions flickered across his face, much too quickly for Harry to be able to name any of them, and he wondered if Draco was feeling the same sort of hurricanic inner turmoil that he himself was. "I…I wanted to say…" Draco hesitated, continuing to take small steps forward and gradually lessening the distance between the two boys.
"Say what?" Harry prodded wearily, longing to reach out and touch the blond just to see if he was real or if he was simply a figment of Harry's obsessed imagination.
"I wanted to say…" Draco flushed and ducked his head, "that…I'm sorry."
The two words surprised Harry and he stared at Malfoy with shocked eyes. "Sorry?" he croaked, uncertain if he had really heard that correctly. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"
"For…" Draco seemed nonplussed for a moment, staring at Harry with wonder in his eyes.
No, Harry decided, studying him more closely. It was more like incredulity. No, he corrected himself a moment later with a grimace as he finally understood the expression—Malfoy was staring at him like he was finding Harry to be particularly stupid, possibly the stupidest person in the whole of existence, most likely.
Not too wrong there.
"For everything," Malfoy said in an obvious tone of voice. "What do you mean 'what for'?"
"You don't need to apologize," Harry shrugged awkwardly, ducking his face as he felt himself blush. He didn't want Draco to apologize, it only made Harry feel worse by reminding him that Draco really was sorry for everything that had happened between them. "I know that none of it was your fault, Draco, and I don't blame you for anything. So, please, just…don't apologize to me. I'm the one who should say sorry."
"Well, what the hell are you apologizing for?" Malfoy asked with raised eyebrows, the same incredulous look from earlier back on his face.
"What do you mean 'what for'?" Harry echoed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture he knew was far too defensive. "For allowing everything to go as far as it did and for taking advantage of you and for making you nearly…you—you nearly—" He cut himself off with a frantic shake of his head, unwilling to even say the words aloud; the silent memories were haunting enough.
"Harry," Draco said in a pained voice, and Harry's heart couldn't help but skip a beat at the sound of his given name once again falling from those familiar lips; sometimes it felt like Harry could still taste them against his own.
"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry whispered, clenching his eyes shut as the memory of that horrid night in the East Tower swept over him. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Potter," Malfoy snapped, sounding angry, and Harry relaxed at the sound of the other boy's anger. Finally, a response he had been expecting, an emotion that made sense to him.
Harry said nothing, choosing to stare down at his shoes as he tried not to crumble to pieces. God, he missed Draco, and even when Draco sounded angry with him, it was hard not to walk over to him and wrap his arms around the other boy before burying his face in Malfoy's neck just to breathe him in.
The sound of footsteps had Harry glancing up, and he was surprised to find Draco much closer than he had been seconds ago. "It's not your fault, Harry," he said quietly, eyes searching Harry's face, and he had no idea what they were looking for.
"I'm just glad you're all right," Harry whispered, studying Malfoy's face just as intently.
"No thanks to Astoria," Draco said wryly, sighing. "She is the one at fault here you understand, certainly not you."
Harry nodded, gaze falling back to the floor. Did it even matter at that point whose fault it was? Knowing that it was Astoria's fault did not make the ache in Harry's chest any less painful. It didn't make him miss Draco any less than he already did.
"I'm…" Malfoy seemed to struggle with himself for a moment and Harry glanced up in confusion, waiting for him to finish whatever he was trying to say. "I'm glad that…" he exhaled loudly, appearing to be steeling himself for his next words, "I'm glad that you're all right too. I mean, I'm glad that you're happy now."
"Happy?" Harry's eyes narrowed, feeling fury crackle through him. What? "Are you taking the piss or something, Malfoy?"
"No!" Draco's eyes widened. "No, that's not—what does that even mean? Why would you even think that?"
"I'm glad that you're happy now," Harry said in a high-pitched voice, trying to imitate Draco's posh accent. "How is that not taking the piss?"
"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked in confusion, nose wrinkling. "How is that taking the piss?"
"What do you mean 'how'?!" Harry shouted, feeling suddenly furious. "Maybe because I'm so obviously not all right, and I sure as hell am not happy! What the hell even gave you that stupid idea anyway?!"
"B-because," Malfoy stammered, appearing taken aback, "because I saw you last week! I saw you as you were heading out on your date and then I saw you later in the Great Hall, remember? When you were laughing and smiling and you and Weasley were all over each other!"
"Ron?" Harry said in a disgusted voice, wondering just what the hell Malfoy was on about. "You think I went on a date with Ron? First of all, gross! Second of all, fucking gross! Third of all, he has a sodding girlfriend! And fourth of all, extremely fucking gross!"
"No, not Ron, you idiot," Draco snapped, and Harry glared as the same expression from earlier—the one that said that Harry was the world's biggest idiot—crossed Malfoy's pale face once more. "I meant his sister! Obviously," he added, crossing his arms and returning Harry's glare.
"You mean Ginny?" Harry's nose wrinkled in confusion. "What about me and Ginny? What date, what are you talking about?"
"Have you always been this moronic or was I simply blinded to your stupidity by that damn potion?" Malfoy ground out, clenching his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples. "The date that I saw the two of you leave the castle grounds for! When you skipped out of here laughing and holding hands, and then came back to the Great Hall fucking laughing and holding hands!" He opened his eyes to glare at Harry for several seconds before the angry expression faded into a look of utter misery. "And that's fine, Harry, really. I mean, it's not like I have any reason to object or anything, right? All I'm trying to say is—" he took a deep breath, closing his eyes once more before speaking, "—that I'm glad that you seem happy. That's all. Because I know that I never did. Make you happy, I mean. I tried, but…I never did. All I ever seemed able to do was make you miserable."
Harry could not say a word. All he could do was stare. What was Malfoy saying? Was he saying that he would object to Harry's supposed involvement with Ginny if he could? Was Malfoy saying that he wanted to object to Harry being involved with someone else?
"So, I'm glad you have her, then, if she makes you happy," Draco finished in a small voice, speaking down to his feet.
"But I don't," Harry whispered, taking a step forward without even realizing what he was doing.
"Huh?" Draco glanced up to eye Harry in confusion.
"I don't have her," the brunet said slowly, "I don't have Ginny. Ginny and I aren't…we're not together."
"Well, you sure did a fantastic job of fooling the entire castle," the Slytherin muttered angrily. "I'm just trying to apologize here, Potter, and tell you that I'm glad that you're happy, all right? You don't need to lie to me just to spare my feelings."
"You're not making any sense, Draco!" Harry glared, wondering what new mind-game this was that Malfoy was trying to play. "How would I be able to spare your feelings if I don't even know what the hell your feelings are in the first place?"
"Well, you never asked!" Malfoy shouted, sounding as upset as Harry felt.
"And why would I when I know how much you hate me?!" Harry shouted back, fists clenched at his sides.
"Now who's not making sense, Potter?! What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?!"
"What do you mean, what does it mean?!" Harry felt a headache coming on; he could not seem to keep up with this sort of circular arguing. "I know that you don't feel anything for me now that the potion is gone! And I know that you hated me even before any of this mess started! So now that the potion's gone, you're right back to where you were before, which is hating my guts! You probably hate me even more because of everything that's happened! And I knew that you would never want to speak to me again, so why the hell would I try to force my company on you after I,"—Harry winced, falling back several steps as hot shame swept through him—"after I've forced so much on you already?"
"You didn't force anything on me, Potter," Draco whispered, eyes round with surprise as he stared at Harry with a look so intense Harry could practically feel it slicing into him.
"Yes, I did," he said with another heavy flinch. "I basically assaulted you, Draco! More than once! And I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I never meant to. I never wanted to—"
"You didn't assault me," Draco shook his head, still speaking in that strange scratchy whisper. "If anything, I assaulted you. I'm the one who should be apologizing for that."
Harry laughed hollowly, feeling empty. "You didn't know what you were doing, Draco, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't control yourself."
"I couldn't," Malfoy said suddenly, sounding desperate, and Harry flinched. "I couldn't control myself, Harry, and the things I did to you…fuck, I'm sorry, all right? I've been trying to figure out a way to approach you about it ever since the day at the Hospital Wing, but…I'm really not any good at apologizing at the best of times, let alone for something this serious."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked in confusion, trying to sort out what exactly it was that Malfoy was talking about.
"The way…" Malfoy bit his lip, face carved in misery and regret, "that time, in the corridor. What I did to you. The first time it happened…and then, what you told me, what you explained to me…and then…"
"And then it happened again," Harry finished in a quiet voice, shifting his weight between both feet uncomfortably. That was nothing more than another memory to be haunted by at this point; Harry had entire collections of them.
This time it was Draco's turn to flinch. "I meant it, what I said…I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. Not until after, when you snapped me out of it. It was like…there was just this anger, like nothing I had ever felt before, and this voice inside of me telling me that I needed to do whatever it took to make you admit those words to us both. It was like…all I could think about was what I wanted, and I could focus on nothing else. In those moments, it truly didn't matter what you wanted, as long as I got what I wanted first."
"I should have known right then," Harry shook his head sadly. "I should have known that something was wrong. I could see that something wasn't right with you, but I just…I dunno, it never even crossed my mind to think it could ever have been something like that."
"It's okay, Potter," Draco said, matching the brunet's sad expression. "As I said, you're not the one at fault and you're hardly the one I hold responsible."
"You really have changed," Harry whispered, hearing an edge of wonder in his voice. "When this whole thing started, I just couldn't understand that you seemed to have changed so much from the person I once knew…and then, after it all came out and everything ended so horribly, I had to try and figure out if any parts of you had been real or if it had all been the potion, but…" he trailed off as he found himself unsure what to say.
"But what?" Malfoy breathed, taking a step forward.
"But, I dunno," Harry shrugged uncomfortably, keeping his gaze fixed on Malfoy's shoes. "Maybe you're not too different from the Draco I knew. I mean," an awkward laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck, "I know that…I know that you would never have done some of those things and never approached me like that or ever had feelings for me in the first place or anything,"—he felt himself cringe and prayed that Malfoy had not noticed—"but, I dunno, maybe you're not as much of a stranger as I had thought before tonight."
"Harry…" Draco murmured, sounding uncertain. "Are you really—are you really not back together with your ex-girlfriend?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "She's interested in someone else, some other bloke she knows through Quidditch."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"No, of course not," he shrugged, still feeling uncomfortable. "We're just friends now. Really good friends, mind you, but just friends. She's my best friend, but that's all we'll ever be."
"If that's really true, then…" Draco took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs for nearly half a minute before releasing it in a loud, nervous sigh. "I would like to tell you something."
"Okay," Harry said cautiously, feeling his knees tremble. Deciding that standing could go to hell, Harry walked over to the large table he had sat on the first time they had ever met in the room they were in, sinking down into a seated position atop its surface.
Watching him cautiously, Draco walked forward as well and, still eyeing Harry as though fearful the brunet would either sprint from the room or punch him in the face, he perched on the table next to Harry warily, staring at his hands in silence for entire minutes.
"What did you want to tell me?" Harry finally asked, unable to take the tense silence any longer.
"I, well…" Draco took a deep breath. "It's about Astoria, actually. I wanted to tell you the real reason she chose me for the potion."
"I already know," Harry mumbled, heart plummeting. If Draco were about to explain to his face how little chance they had ever have had of falling in love—or at least of Draco ever returning his feelings—Harry did not want to hear it. It had been painful enough to hear it the first time from Hermione.
"No," the blond said softly, still speaking down to the fingers he kept twisting together in his lap, "you don't, actually. Because I know what Astoria told McGonagall her reason was, but…that wasn't actually the reason."
"It wasn't?" Harry's head snapped up in shock. "What does that mean? What was her real reason? Why would she lie?"
Draco smiled a bitter, twisted, almost haunted smile at the brunet, one that made Harry shiver. "I doubt you were aware of this, but Astoria and I were actually betrothed at one point."
"Betrothed?" Harry repeated, mouth falling open. "You and Astoria were fucking betrothed?" He gaped at Draco for several seconds. "Who the actual fuck gets betrothed these days?"
Draco's smile twisted even more. "It's still a fairly regular practice amongst the older pureblood families. My parents were betrothed practically since childhood, as well as my Aunt Bellatrix with her husband. Andromeda had been betrothed too before she chose her own husband and ran off with him instead; that's actually the main reason she was disowned. It wasn't so much about marrying a Muggle-born as it was about the fact that her husband was not the man that her parents had chosen for her."
"That's sick," Harry whispered, feeling horrified. "Your parents would really have made you marry someone you don't even love? Why?"
Draco shrugged, studying his knee as he answered in a quiet voice, "Keeping the bloodlines pure, keeping them magically strong, gaining wealth or land, forming and preserving alliances, sometimes joining two households into one even more powerful household, things of that nature."
"That's sick," Harry repeated, trying to ignore the nausea churning his stomach. He could not imagine ever being forced to marry for something as awful as family politics as opposed to love.
"Yes," Draco agreed, nodding down at his knee. "And my parents had chosen Astoria. Daphne was undoubtedly their first choice, but she has been betrothed to Theodore Nott since they were eight."
"Eight?" Harry whispered in shock, unsure how to even respond to such a statement, especially when it was spoken in such a casual tone of voice, as though what Draco was saying was not one of the most horrifying things Harry had ever heard. "But they couldn't even know what type of person Nott would become at that age! And they were fine practically just giving their daughter away to him at the age of eight? What if by the time they had grown up and were finally of age to marry, he had become someone horrible? Someone you would never actually want your daughter married to if you really loved her?"
Draco shrugged. "Without a very good reason, and I mean a damn solid reason, once these things are negotiated and contracts are drawn up, they will almost always go through with it, no matter how much the couple may not like one another upon marrying."
"That's one of the most disgusting things I've ever heard," Harry said in a low voice, unable to comprehend the layers of horror embedded within such a story. "Please tell me that you're no longer betrothed to her!"
"No," Draco smiled—a hard, bitter expression. "No, with my parents' public disgrace and my father's lifetime sentence to Azkaban, the contract was nullified, since the magic for such a binding—one with a preexisting contract such as the particular one our parents had drawn up—requires both of our fathers to be there in person to perform certain familial bonding spells, and without him there, the marriage would be one of law only and not of magic, which is more often than not the entire point of these ceremonies."
Harry nodded, pretending to understand what any of those words meant. He had no idea where Draco was going with this story, but he found himself leaning closer as he hung on Malfoy's every word.
"But once it was called off…" Draco sighed, flicking an imaginary speck of lint from his trousers, "Astoria still wanted to marry me. She told me that she didn't care about some magical contract, all she wanted was the marriage, and she was fine if it was one solely of law and not of magic."
"But?" Harry prodded, still unsure what to make of anything or how to feel about any of what he had heard so far.
"But I said no," Draco told him in a quiet voice, still not looking at Harry. "I told her that I could never love her. She demanded to know why, demanding that I tell her what was wrong with her, why I had used the word 'never', why I wouldn't even give myself the chance to love her…" he fell silent for several moments, "and so, I made the mistake of telling her the truth."
"What's the truth?" Harry whispered, leaning even closer and finally succeeding in capturing Draco's attention. The blond glanced up, inhaling sharply at how close Harry's face now was to his own. "What's the truth, Draco?"
"I told her that I'm gay," he confessed, eyes sliding shut as a grimace crossed his face. "And she started crying and pleading with me to reconsider, asking how I could know for certain that I was gay and not just confused or in denial about my real feelings for her," he shook his head in disgust, "and that's when…I told her…"
"What, Draco?" Harry asked, feeling mesmerized by every word that fell from Malfoy's mouth. What was the blond trying to say?
"I told her…" Malfoy paused again, flushing bright red as he turned his face away from Harry, "I told her that it was too late because I was already in love with someone else. Another man."
"And did you tell her who it was?" Harry wondered in a daze. Was Draco trying to say what Harry hoped he was trying to say?
"No," he shook his head. "But—the first week of term, she broke into my dorm and stole my journal, the one I had been keeping since sixth year. It happened to, erm, mention this person, um, rather a lot," he blushed, "and she read it and decided to take revenge on me instead, and by extension, him. So she began attempting to make her very own love potion, experimenting with different levels of strength and potency, wanting to make one that would be much more subtle and much less likely for the effects to be instantly noticed by those around the drinker. It wouldn't have been as much fun for her, you see, if the potion had been discovered before I had had a chance to make any sort of move on the unsuspecting target."
"What are you saying, Draco?" Harry asked in a numb voice, wondering if Draco was really saying that Harry was the person Malfoy had been writing about in his journal, the person Malfoy had—Harry gulped—fallen in love with before they had ever even gotten together.
"She wanted to punish me," Malfoy whispered, sounding pained. "She thought it would be the perfect revenge. She had been humiliated by my refusing her, even if my sexuality would never have allowed for anything between us, and thought that by slipping me a love potion designed to make me unable to help but act on my pre-existing desire for you and fall into a different state of obsession, rather than real love, it would be the perfect revenge. She believed that there was no way that you would ever even consider me as a romantic interest, let alone return my feelings. She thought that if she gave me the potion, I would grow even more obsessed with you and throw myself at you—hopefully somewhere embarrassingly public, I'm sure—and get immediately rejected, becoming heartbroken and humiliated and I would then finally understand just what it was that I had done to her." Draco gulped, eyes sad. "But that's not what happened. I did become obsessed even more with you, and did approach you, and did throw myself at you, but…"
"But I ended up returning the feelings," Harry said softly. His tone was as hollow as his insides felt, unable to process any of what Malfoy had told him. What did that mean? Did that mean that Draco might possibly still…?
"Yes," Draco breathed, an anguished expression crossing his face. "Something neither Astoria nor I would ever have believed could happen, not in a million years. And yet…"
"So then what happened?" Harry asked, still sounding so hollow. "How did you find all of this out?"
"She wrote me a letter," the blond admitted, expression twisting. "As soon as she found out what I had nearly done…" he paused to glance around the room with uneasy eyes, swallowing uncomfortably. "She wrote me a letter explaining it all and begging for my forgiveness, claiming that she had only ever wanted to see me humiliated, but she had never wanted to actually see me dead, especially in a misguided, suicidal attempt at earning back your forgiveness for actions also taken under the magical duress of the potion."
"I doubt she'll ever know how awful that night really was," Harry whispered, staring at the window with distant eyes.
"I'm sorry," Malfoy apologized, and Harry could hear the burning shame in those two short words.
"Wasn't your fault," Harry shrugged, still staring at the open window, the same one that Draco had tried his hardest to throw himself through.
"Doesn't mean I'm not sorry."
"I've missed you, you know." Harry wasn't quite sure what had possessed him to admit to such a thing; he still wasn't even sure just who exactly he was talking to—was this Draco sitting beside him, or Malfoy? The way he had been speaking to Harry, so soft and remorseful, made Harry think that it might just be Draco; had he found Draco again? God, Harry had missed Draco so much. All he wanted was a chance to find out what might have been between the two of them without any damned potions forcing either of their hands. Was Draco really saying what Harry thought he was?
At the admission, Malfoy's breath caught. "Have you?" He turned cautious eyes on Harry, and Harry finally looked away from the window to meet the other boy's gaze.
"Yeah, I have," Harry said quietly, eyes searching Malfoy's face. "I was never under any potion, Draco. Everything I felt for you…" he laughed hollowly, raking a trembling hand through his hair, "it was all real."
"…everything?" Draco asked in a tiny voice, the single word edged in both hope and fear.
"I thought you hated me," Harry turned away, unable to look at the raw emotion shaping Draco's face. "After the morning of the Hospital Wing. I was so sure you went right back to hating me. But…I never stopped missing you, Draco."
"Harry," Draco gasped, and Harry startled at the feel of a hand combing shaking fingers gently through the side of his hair, and Harry could not help but close his eyes at the feeling. "I was so sure, after everything I had put you through, that you would never be willing to even look in my direction ever again. But…" the final word trembled in the air between them, and Harry knew that this, right here, this moment, might just be the most significant moment of his life.
This was the moment that would decide his entire future.
"Draco," he murmured, turning to run his own shaking fingers through Draco's hair, smiling at the silken feel. "You still wear your hair loose. I was sure that…"
"That what?" Draco breathed, sounding as though his lungs were not working properly.
"That…I dunno," Harry confessed in a quiet voice, fingers still combing through the soft strands, "that you…wouldn't want the reminder, I suppose. Or that you would try to separate yourself as much as you could from the person you had been under the potion's influence."
Malfoy laughed a tiny, gasping laugh. "And yet here I was trying anything I could not to have you see me as the person I used to be. I was trying to separate myself as much as I could from the person I had been before the potion's influence."
"It turns out I might actually like the person you were before the potion's influence," Harry whispered, shifting closer, "even if I never really knew who that person was."
"I'm not that person anymore." Malfoy shifted closer as well, until Harry could feel the heat of his body against his entire right side. "I'm not the person I was under the potion's influence either."
"So who are you, then?" the brunet wondered, cupping Draco's jaw with one hand and turning him more fully to face Harry. "How much of you do I really know?"
"H-how much do you want to know?" The question left Malfoy's mouth in a trembling rush, and Harry could practically taste the terror of the other boy on his tongue. It seemed to hang in the air like smoke.
"I want to know everything, Draco," Harry murmured, deciding that if Draco was allowing him to stroke his cheek like that with one thumb, hold his jaw in such an intimate way and stare into his eyes from so close a distance, he would most likely not object too much to Harry kissing him.
So he did.
With a sharp gasp, both of Malfoy's hands instantly tangled themselves in Harry's hair, his mouth trembling beneath Harry's own as the blond parted his lips cautiously, as though expecting Harry to disappear the moment he returned the kiss.
"Draco," Harry mumbled into Malfoy's mouth, and Malfoy gasped again, surging forward to claim Harry's mouth in a kiss deep enough to pierce bone. Suddenly, they were both wrapped around one another, kissing each other as though their very lives depended on it, but Harry could not seem to make himself slow down or lose the edge of desperation their every touch was seared with.
"Harry," Draco whimpered, suddenly surprising the both of them by swinging one knee over Harry's thighs to straddle the brunet where he sat on the large table, grabbing Harry's hair more tightly as he pressed himself into Harry's body as best he could.
Without consciously being aware of ordering his hands to do anything, Harry reached down and grabbed Draco's hips tightly, pulling him even closer and then closer still, as close as possible—it would never be close enough. "Fuck," he moaned, gripping Malfoy's hips even tighter until he was convinced it must be hurting the other boy, but Draco did not utter a single word of complaint, simply kissing Harry even harder. "Fuck, Draco, god!" He paused to shudder at the feel of Draco's teeth scraping lightly against his bottom lip. "This really is you, right? Oh, Christ, please tell me that this really is you! Please tell me you're not still under the effects of a potion! Please tell me that you really want this!" Harry's mind was spinning so fast that he had no idea which thought to settle on, other than the growing fear that the Draco he was holding was only there because something was forcing him to be.
"It's me, Harry," Draco whispered in his ear, biting down on the lobe and earning another shudder. "It really is me this time, in my right mind and everything, I promise. And you have no idea how much I want this."
Harry moaned again, nodding frantically and gasping as Malfoy ground his hips down against Harry's; Harry could feel the both of them hardening against one another, and he was unsure what to do. Should they wait? Should they give in to what they both wanted? Would it be up to Harry to make the decision?
Draco's mouth skated across Harry's jaw, nipping at his chin and throat as he mumbled warm breaths across Harry's skin. "I want you, Harry. Please, let me make it all up to you. Let me show you how it can be between us without any outside influences, just the two of us, together. I want you right now. I've wanted you for so long."
"God, Draco," Harry panted mindlessly, feeling nearly frantic in his desperation for Draco to touch him, to allow himself to be touched by Harry, to be on top of him, underneath him, to feel himself inside Draco's willing body and know that the blond truly wanted every single touch.
But the moment that Draco started to tug at the fastenings of Harry's jeans, Harry's hands flew out to stop him. "Wait," he gasped, breathing heavily as he felt his heart attempting to hammer its way straight through his chest. "Wait, Draco."
"Wait?" Malfoy asked, head snapping back as he stared at Harry in wary confusion, but Harry could see fear buried in his eyes, and he raised a hand to Draco's jaw to guide him forward into a soft press of lips.
"I want to do this properly this time," the brunet said quietly, resting his forehead against Draco's own.
"Properly?" the blond wondered, stealing another kiss.
"Yes," Harry nodded, sliding both arms around Malfoy's waist to hold him tightly against his body. "I don't want us to have to sneak around or wait until everyone else has gone to sleep to see one another. I don't want us to rush into things like we did before. I want to be able to hold your hand in the corridors and eat breakfast together in the mornings."
From such close proximity, Harry felt the exact moment that Draco stopped breathing. "What are you saying, Harry?" he whispered, heart pounding furiously against Harry's chest, matching the hammering beat of his own racing heart.
"Would you…" Harry felt a fierce blush spread across his face and was sure that Draco could feel the heat from it, "would you, er…" Oh, god, how did he ask someone something like that? He hadn't asked anyone on a date since fifth year with Cho. And look how that turned out, he thought wryly. He and Ginny had practically just jumped straight into their relationship; he had never really had to ask her out in actual words—they had gone pretty much straight from being friends to being boyfriend and girlfriend.
But with Draco, he wanted there to be no doubts between either of them.
"Will you, er, go on a date? Possibly? With me? Sometime, maybe, in the future? But only if you like. Er, please?" The moment he added the last bit he flushed even darker, wondering if he would ever, at any point in his life, ever stop being such a weird awkward berk about such things. That would be really nice, he sighed internally, knowing he was doomed to an entire lifetime of socially awkward situations of his own creating.
At the clumsy string of questions, Malfoy pulled back in surprise, gazing at Harry in shock for nearly a full minute, until Harry was almost squirming with discomfort from the intensity of the other boy's gaze.
"Are you serious, Harry?" he finally asked in a low voice, climbing down from Harry's lap but stepping between his legs to peer closely at Harry's face. "Do you really mean that? You would really like to take me out on a date? In public?"
"Of course in public," Harry said automatically. "That was…my biggest regret, actually, when this whole thing was over. We had so few encounters, and never, ever got to go on a real date. I haven't been on very many, you know. Not real ones. My first one with Cho was a horrible awkward disaster that ended with her literally running from the teashop, and Ginny was more of a 'hang out and play Quidditch 'til you want to die' type of girlfriend rather than one for like, date dates, you know? Which was fine, but…"
"But what?" Draco breathed, shifting even closer.
"But…" Harry squirmed again, wishing he could hide from Malfoy's penetrating silver gaze. "But, her and I…we had a real relationship, and there were definitely real feelings, but…I dunno, it was never…it was never really about actual romance for us, you know? We were just too—I dunno, similar, maybe, to one another? She has six older brothers and was always treated as one of the boys and never really held very much with the idea of romance, and I think my main problem was trying to reconcile my attraction for her with the sisterly sort of feelings I had from being best mates with her older brother and being practically adopted into the family by her parents. I'm not really sure how to explain it or what I even really feel about it, it's a whole mess of shit I usually prefer not to get into. Not to mention there's a part of me that's always been a bit weirded out by the fact that she's the only redheaded girl I've ever been close to, and that just always sort of reminds me of my mum. Plus, there are a lot of times that she reminds me of her mum, and her mum is the closest thing I've ever actually known to having a mum of my own, and that is all even weirder than the conflicting feelings I was talking about earlier, so that always kind of killed the desire to really romance her in the way I had always wanted to with the person I ended up with, because I would grow up thinking about my parents and imagining what sort of relationship they must have had, and then I found out that my dad stayed behind to sacrifice himself for me and my mum, and then she sacrificed herself for me when she didn't have to, which is what I've always imagined real love to be, you know, being willing to sacrifice everything for the person you love, and that just sort of cemented this idea that relationships like that need real romance to create real love, I s'pose…like, Ginny and I were good together and definitely comfortable together, but there was no real…passion, maybe?" Harry paused, his face positively on fire from his ridiculous rambling that he could not seem to stop, no matter how hard he tried. He had no idea why he was saying any of those things. "I just—I just want to—"
"Are you saying you want to romance me, Harry?" Draco asked softly, tilting Harry's chin up to meet his gaze, and Harry nodded even as he felt his cheeks burn hotter and hotter.
"Yeah, I s'pose I do," he said, yanking his chin from Malfoy's hold so he could drop his face down to stare at his lap. "And don't you dare laugh at me for wanting that," he said stiffly, legs preparing themselves to jump from the desk and run from the room if Malfoy dared laugh at Harry to his face for his misplaced idealistic romanticisms he had secretly harbored since childhood.
"I promise you," Draco whispered, forcing Harry's chin up again and bending low to speak his words an inch from Harry's mouth, "that laughter is the furthest thing from my mind right now."
The final inch between them was erased as Draco pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to Harry's mouth, one that Harry felt himself melt into. God, he loved kissing Draco.
"Does that mean yes?" he wondered, pulling back to peer up at the blond.
Draco rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly as he pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's mouth. "Do you really need to even ask that, after I already confessed to keeping a bloody journal about you for the past three years?"
"Right," Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around Malfoy's waist, "I had nearly forgotten."
Draco rolled his eyes again even as his smile widened. "So," he murmured, raking a hand through Harry's hair and earning a happy sigh, "a date, then?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I mean, I'm warning you right now that I'll most likely be absolute rubbish at it." Malfoy shook his head and laughed, and Harry couldn't help but return the grin. "But I want to at least try. I mean, I'm not really sure where people actually go on first dates, but you were raised in a family of super posh high-cultured toffs, yeah? I'm sure you know at least one place we can go."
"Wow," Malfoy drawled, eyes twinkling, "and after such flattering compliments."
Harry laughed. "Oh come on, Malfoy, you do realize that you are without a doubt the toffiest toff posho to ever step foot through the doors of this school, don't you?"
Draco smiled at him with a shake of his head. "Starting with the sweet talk already, I see."
"Yep," Harry grinned widely. "Get used to it now, Malfoy, 'cos that is the sort of sweet talk I come with."
"Well, I can't wait to see what you save for our first date, then," Draco murmured, kissing Harry before he could form any sort of reply. He clutched at Draco and moaned and decided that verbal replies were overrated.
"This weekend, then," Harry panted, finally breaking away from the all-consuming kiss. "I'll take you out this weekend. You can pick the place, and I'll even try to comb my hair down for the occasion if you like."
"You absolute gentleman," Draco teased, running both hands through Harry's hair. "But if you comb it down, I won't be able to spend the entire evening doing this, now will I?" He raked his fingers along Harry's scalp and Harry couldn't help but shut his eyes with a smile and a slight moan. "You really do like this, don't you?"
"It feels so good," Harry said almost drunkenly. "Nobody ever really touches my hair, like ever. I think they're all afraid to go near it or something."
"Well, they can hardly be blamed for that, now can they?"
"Your turn with the sweet talk, I see," Harry chuckled.
"Eh, sweet talk, fact, public opinion, take your pick," Malfoy smiled, and Harry couldn't help but smile back.
"You prat," he said softly, pulling him in close for a kiss. "God, I missed you so much these last two weeks."
"I know the feeling," Draco whispered. "I suppose, even though what she did really was spiteful and horrible, maybe we owe a debt of thanks to Astoria. We would surely never have found ourselves here if not for her vengeful meddling."
Harry was quite certain he would never thank her in his life for what she had done, but he didn't want to argue the point with Draco. "If we ever end up getting married, we can thank her in the invitation," Harry chuckled, loving the sound of Draco's laugh as he returned the amusement.
And as he pulled Harry in close for another deep, scorching kiss, making Harry's body feel alight with flames in contrast to the cold breeze still blowing past them through the open window of the tower, bathing the large room in silver moonlight and winter wind, wrapped up in Draco's warmth, the entire world feeling more perfect at that moment that it ever had before, Harry couldn't help but smile.
THE END
A/N: And that is the end! This little tale of woe of ours has come to an ending at last! I hope nobody was disappointed by it! This story was actually written because of my own personal disgust regarding the legality of love potions in the original HP books and the way they seemed to be made light of. It's basically romanticized GHB, and I don't understand why they were never outlawed in the novels. It's something that has bothered me for years.
Buuut, the boys did get their happy ending! I was toying with the idea of writing a li'l something about their first date, so maybe possibly look out for that in the future 😊
And now that this story is done, that leaves one WIP currently going for me (I just posted the newest chapter of All but Death today) but still room for so much more! I started working on a new story not too long ago that I'm pretty excited about. It's a Muggle AU (my very first one!) with biker!Harry in a motorcycle club, riding motorcycles and being smexy. As he is wont to do. (And just like most of my other stories, shit's gonna get real drama real quick.) I'm gonna try and get the first chapter of it posted super soon, so look out for that one as well, especially if you like reading about drama and rival biker gangs! Because who doesn't, right?!
Anyway, thanks again, lovers! I adore all your cute anonymous faces! Let me know what you thought!
