Chapter 3. Water Colour Memories.

Sunlight crept up the bedclothes and over the figure lying humped in the middle of the bed. There was no movement as the heat from the sun streaming in through the window warmed exposed skin. Only when the light and heat reached his eyes did he blink and sigh. He felt no need to move, no reason to drag himself away from the sun, so he closed his eyes for the first time in hours and ignored the red behind his eye lids.

He was lying where he had thrown himself last night; hadn't moved much at all. Black hair fell across his forehead, more untidy than usual and if he cared he would remember that it might have been a week or so since it had seen a comb, let alone a shower. A thin dribble of drool from the corner of his mouth made a damp patch on the pillow, and long stubble shadowed his chin.

The only clothes he wore were a pair of old boxers that had seen better days, and the only reason he wore them was because they were ones he had picked out himself years ago. Now, they were the only ones he owned, and they needed washing as much as he did. The air in the room was fetid, Harry having isolated himself to it virtually exclusively since he moved in, but he neither noticed nor cared.

In the corner of the room was the box he had bought with him from the house. Harry hadn't been able to decide quite what to do with those things, so he just left them in the corner. There was nothing personal in it; no reminders of Draco or anything, Harry just had not wanted to make any decisions at all. Instead, all he seemed capable of was presenting himself for meals whenever Hermione called him, aware that despite eating, he was losing weight and his ribs were beginning to stick out. He used to eat well, so well that Draco would tease him.

Where do you put all that food Harry?

I need to keep up my strength to satisfy you.

You'll get fat.

Not if you keep giving me workouts like last nights.

I think that can be arranged.

Things had actually deteriorated since he had moved in with Hermione. It seemed to Harry, that maybe he had made a mistake leaving their home, because without being surrounded by even the memory of Draco, things like looking after himself just held no meaning. At least at home he still felt close to Draco; at least there held tangible proof that they had loved each other; at least there, Harry held out some small faint hope that one day things might be different. Here… there was nothing.

A persistent pounding on the door roused him to turn his head away from the sun and towards the door instead.

"What do you want?"

"I'm coming in Harry," Hermione's voice came through the closed door only an instant before it opened and she entered carrying a bundle of clothes. Harry groaned.

"Go away Hermione."

"No, Harry. The room stinks and so do you. You are going to get up off that bed and into the shower. You're a wreck and you're scaring me." There was a small catch to Hermione's voice that Harry was sure that she practised, knowing that would be the only thing that got him moving; made him feel guilty. Shamefaced, he rolled over and sat up, looking at her.

"Sorry, but it's not like I have anything to get up for is there?"

"So you think that rotting here in this room will solve anything? He's not coming back Harry. It's been what… nine or ten months now? You have to move on. Find a job, go out, meet someone else. You have to start to live again. Because you can damned well bet that Draco isn't moping around like this."

Harry cringed at her words. He knew they were the truth but they still hurt. He was almost positive that Draco would now be much happier on his own, back in his own world where being with Harry didn't hurt him anymore. Where the press left him alone and he wasn't spat on or had abuse hurled at him.

Why do they do this? Why can't they leave us alone?

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he sat there distractedly looking at the floor. A part of him wanted Draco to be hurting as much as he was, to be missing him just as badly. Then Harry could hold out some hope that maybe one day Draco would come back to him. Was that why he couldn't move on? Because he held out hope?

"What if he is Hermione? What if he's hurting as badly as I am? It will have all been for nothing…"

Hermione's face softened into compassion. Harry was really too altruistic for his own good. She had always understood his way of sacrificing his own needs to make sure that he did what he thought was the right thing, that those he loved were as safe and as happy as he could possibly make them. No matter that this was slowly breaking him. It was just his nature to put himself last; something she had castigated him over in the past, but something she loved him for nevertheless.

Sitting beside him, wrinkling her nose slightly at his unwashed odour but otherwise ignoring it, she put her arms around him and held onto him tightly. She made a decision. He deserved to know. Partly for of her job with the Ministry, and partly for her own peace of mind, Hermione had organised to have Draco followed for a while. Setting Harry's mind at rest, confirming that he had made the right decision for Draco, might enable him to finally accept things and begin to function once more.

On the other hand, the nature of the information was the reason that she had kept it from him in the first place. Seeing how deeply Draco was immersed in his new life would not be an easy thing for Harry to see, and the worry at his mental state had in the past been what stayed her. Now, it might just be the catalyst for saving him.

Of course, she knew that Draco was now back in London as it was all over the papers, and as Harry hadn't yet, she made a further decision not to tell him. At least until he has begun to live again. She had seen the way that Draco had been playing up to the reporters, smiling and laughing. She didn't think Harry needed that...yet. It was almost as if he had made friends with those that tore them apart.

"Harry, go and have a shower. I need to duck into work and pick something up, but I should be back before you're done. I have some things I think you need to see." She spoke gravely and sat back quickly as his haunted green eyes locked onto her face, searching for answers.

"Yes, I know where he is and what he's been doing. But I need to get the file from the Office, and you need a shower."

Fifteen minutes later saw Harry seated at the kitchen table, showered and dressed, still unshaven, and nervously awaiting Hermione's return from the Ministry with the file on Draco. What would he feel when he saw what Draco's life was now? He missed Draco so much. Every time he thought of him, it was like someone had gripped his heart and was squeezing so tightly that he felt like he was dying. And he thought about him every minute of every day.

A minute later Hermione dropped a large envelope in front of him and stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder. While he was wringing his hands under the table and staring hard at the envelope, she spoke, telling him that Draco had been living in Paris all this time. Living with the cream of society, attending parties and being seen with all the right people. A faint smile played on his lips at that, because of course Draco would chose that lifestyle. But then Hermione's touch on his shoulder tightened and he felt her apprehension.

"There's likely to be a few things in there that you might not like to see Harry, but you deserve to know the whole truth of what we found."

Harry's eyes flew to hers immediately concerned. "He's not hurt or anything is he?"

"No, no Harry… just…" she sighed. "Look at the photos."

Swallowing and turning his eyes back to the envelope he wondered if he had the courage to look on Draco's new life. He wondered if he even had the right. But, he had to know; he needed to see with his own eyes that Draco was happy now. His eyes flicked back to Hermione, acknowledged her nod with his own, and slowly began to open the package, suddenly afraid of what he would see.

Heart in his mouth, he withdrew the stack of photos, set them on the table, and started to go through them one by one. There were photos of Draco at party after party, a smile plastered on his face, drinking, eating, laughing and talking to people. Fortunately the photos were still ones and Harry was thankful for that. That ache in his throat was back again; had it ever really gone away? A wave of intense longing filled Harry and he traced his fingers over an outline of Draco's face caught in profile in one of the photos.

"Oh Draco…" Harry whispered softly.

You make me so happy Harry.

And I always will.

Here then was his proof. Draco was getting on with his life and the photos proved that. He seemed happy enough too, although Harry did notice that sometimes Draco's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. That was to be expected though. Then his hand stilled and Hermione's arms wrapped around him from behind. He had just turned to the next photo, and he stared. And stared. And stared, until he wildly began to turn over photo after photo. They were all different, but all the same.

There was picture after picture of his Draco fucking other men, a procession of pictures of a naked Draco in various positions, at different stages of fucking other people. Each one was a hammer blow to his heart, driving home the knowledge that Draco was no longer his, that he would never touch that body, never skim his fingers over that perfectly soft skin, lick that special place behind his ear, or run his fingers through his hair. He would never again kiss those lips like he needed nothing else in this world, making Draco his and no one else's, ever. He would never just hold him in his arms. Never again.

There'll never be anyone else for me Harry.

I could never even think of anyone else, ever Draco.

Suddenly feeling ill, he roughly pushed Hermione aside, fled to the bathroom and only barely made it to the toilet before heaving the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Violently shaking and crying and hurting, he slumped down on the floor when he was done, not even bothering to wipe his mouth.

Oh God, the pain… it was like a knife was gutting him alive from the inside. He kept on seeing that look on Draco's face, the one he had always thought he alone would ever be the only one to see; the one he knew meant that Draco was just about to come. Abruptly, he heaved again, but was too weak or didn't care enough to move and bitter bile dripped down the front of his clothes.

How long he sat there for he didn't know, but he had the presence of mind to tell Hermione to go away, that he needed to be alone for a while. The bathroom floor was as good a place as any to fall apart. It was done then. Any small hope that things might be different had now been snuffed out hadn't it? Draco was happy now and that was the reason he had let him go so easily wasn't it? Draco wasn't hurting anymore, so shouldn't that make Harry feel happy? Shouldn't he be glad that his decision had been vindicated? Shouldn't he?

I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you happy Draco.

A raw sob escaped him. He was going to have to move on wasn't he? Of all the battles he had faced in his life, this was the hardest. He was fighting his heart now; fighting to close off a love he had thought would last a lifetime. Fighting to find a way to live without the man that had filled his heart and filled his life. Fighting not to love him anymore.

No. Just because Draco wasn't with him anymore did not mean that he had to stop loving him. That was too much to ask, and he knew it. But what he could do was to store the love somewhere safe in his heart; somewhere that allowed the rest of him to function. That's what he would do then. Because he knew that the way he had been living could not go on. Well, no he hadn't been living at all. There had been a breathing body on the planet, but he hadn't been living, and something had to change.

The decision made, he ignored the hollow emptiness that brought with it, removed his glasses and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. A flash of gold across his eyesight reminded him that he still wore Draco's bracelet. Removing it, he ran the links slowly through his fingers, over and over again, staring at it, but not really seeing it.

What do you want most in the world Harry?

You.

Eventually, he sighed, as if expelling the last of his emotions; clearing himself from all the pain, resigned to a future without Draco. Gone was the devastated ravaged face that he had worn for the last ten months, and in its place was a mask. There was still pain in his eyes, and the fine lines around them that had once been laughter lines were deeper and made him look older and wiser. There was a certain set to his jaw that gave him a determined air, and when he looked into the mirror whilst cleaning himself up, he accepted that this was the face he was going to have to live with from now on.

He made another decision too, as he was looking at his new face in the mirror. He was going to leave the wizarding world, for good. It had assumed things from him from the day Voldemort killed his parents. It had required that he be the hero and rid them of the darkness. He had not wanted any part of it; not wanted everyone to know who he was; not wanted to be famous for something he had no control over; not wanted to become a killer. But he had. He had done it because it was the right thing to do. He had put up with the publicity, the expectations, the responsibility, and the guilt because he felt it was the right thing to do.

They had asked everything from him, and he had given them all what they wanted. Even when they had proceeded to take, he still gave. They took everything that had ever meant anything to him away, without even caring. Oh yes, people said they cared that he had lost his parents, pretended they cared when Cedric died, but they cheered when Sirius died and sighed in relief when Remus was killed in the final battle.

Still not content with taking from him the things he loved most, it proceeded to destroy his very life; the very reason he kept going when he thought he had no future; the very reason he had wanted to stay live after the final battle. It took Draco away from him, and paradoxically they felt vindicated, with the opinion that, if Draco had really loved Harry, then he would not have left him. So, really, he was just as bad as his father wasn't he, treating their Harry like that? For that, he finally admitted he would never forgive them. He wanted no part of this world anymore. They had taken what they wanted from him, there was no more.

He would find a nice quiet borough somewhere; a nice unassuming job in a place as far removed from the wizarding world as he could possibly be. And he would tell no one apart from Ron and Hermione where he was going, because it was none of their damned business what he did with his life now. They had no more right to anything concerning him anymore.

One more thing to do, he told himself. One last goodbye. He picked up the bracelet again and allowed his mind to wander back to their house. There was one place he needed to farewell, and he had been too distraught when leaving last time to do it. He would leave this there, and maybe if Draco ever came back to the house, he might find it and keep it.

Harry?

Yes, Draco?

Will we get married out there one day?

If that's what you want.

I'd like to.

Then of course we will.

After another shower and a Scourgify spell on his clothes, he headed out and caught a bus, sitting next to a window near the rear. As they travelled along the narrow city streets, he was glad that he had decided not to drive today. There was something soothing about the gentle rocking of the bus, leaning his head against the window and watching as the crowded houses of the city gave way to the space of the countryside.

Finally, the bus dropped him at the corner of the lane to the house, and as the bus pulled away past him it revealed their little cottage at the end of it, looking pretty much as he'd left it a few weeks ago, and shining almost comfortingly in the sunshine. Maybe the grass was longer, he thought as he made his way towards it slowly, shoulders hunched defensively against what he knew would be painful, no matter what he had decided.

Thoughts of what had happened last time he was here played in his mind and as he didn't want to relive that again, he opted to take the side gate instead. Letting himself in and closing it behind him, he turned to look down the length of what had been their back yard. His gaze flickered to the back verandah, where the two of them had spent many a warm evening sitting close together on the swinging chair, taking joy in just sharing their thoughts. The thumping of his heart told him that maybe he had expected too much from himself too soon, but he was here now, and he knew that if there was no pain then he had lost something more than losing Draco.

I'm at peace for the first time in my life Harry.

Swallowing hard, he turned and followed the path down to the stream. It was lined with roses, their tiny buds giving a promise of a spectacular display in a few weeks with a heady perfume in the summer warmth. The buzzing of wasps caught his attention and drew it towards the fruit trees on his left. Heavily laden with ripe plums the branches were drooping and the wasps were lazily crawling over the split flesh.

There was an archway in front if him also covered in rosebuds, which he knew would be white when they bloomed. This led to a plain grassed area that spread down to the stream's edge. It was surrounded by trees and had been their favorite place outside the house; what had decided them on buying it. Draco had said that there had obviously been a lot of love here because everything had been so lovingly cared for.

I think we'll be happy here Harry.

His breath caught and the familiar ache was back. He stood at the stream's edge and closed his eyes inhaling deeply to compose himself, before making his way over to the bench under the trees and sitting down.

This was where they had planned to get married. In front of only a few of their friends, they had wanted to pledge to spend the rest of their lives together, formalising what their hearts had already told them. Here among the trees, the flowers, the peace, was where the most important day of their lives was to take place. Harry looked across the grass to the stream, and watched it flow for a while, sitting silently, allowing the tranquility of the scene to relax him.

Then, finally, he began to speak. Softly and unsure of himself at first, but feeling the need to have the words said aloud.

"Draco…" he started, then stopped and sighed. This was harder than he thought.

"Draco, Hermione tells me that you have been living in Paris. I always wanted to see Paris. I don't think I ever will now… it just wouldn't be the same, not seeing it with you."

A cough, then he shifted on the bench uncomfortably, frowning.

"I saw the photos, Draco. I saw how much fun you were having, and I'm glad. I'm glad that you're finally happy… I'm even glad that you seem to have found plenty of company." But he had to stop there, because that knife was twisting in his gut again, and it was a while before he could continue.

"Well, alright, I'm lying there. It tears me up to think of you with someone else. When I first found out, I was ill. But…" he paused, thinking, "if that's what makes you happy, then what right do I have to complain?" None, he thought to himself. But…

"But… Oh, how I miss you. I miss you and want you and need you so badly that I think I might die at times from the pain of it," Harry burst out sobbing, unable to stop himself. Gasping in great lungs full of air in an effort to stop, he managed after a time to pull himself together. This was hard enough as it was without losing control.

Pulling a hanky from his pocket, he wiped his eyes, blew his nose and leaned back into the bench. A bird sang a song of summer in one of the trees and Harry listened to it for a while, sitting still, until it stopped.

"You know," he began again, "if I close my eyes, I can see us here on our wedding day. I wanted it to be a perfect day for us. I wanted it to be something that was special for just the two of us, regardless of what the customs are for marriage ceremonies. I had even written some things I wanted to say… but it won't happen now will it?

"But, there are some things I wanted to say anyway." He paused again, as the bird started up it's song again, and he smiled, surprising himself that he still could. It was like the bird was listening and answering him back. It was almost a comfort and it encouraged him to continue.

"Firstly, I'm leaving the wizarding world, and I won't be coming back. They've taken everything that meant anything away from me. I have nothing more to give them. I hate them and if I stay, things will only get worse. So, I'm going and only Ron and Hermione will know where I am.

"Secondly, and I already said this, but I'll say it again. I'm glad that you're happy now. Your happiness means everything to me and I'm sorry that being with me hurt you so much.

"Lastly, I will never stop loving you Draco, not as long as I live. I told you that it was forever and I meant it. But I can't live in this vacuum forever. You've moved on and it's time that I did too.

"I guess that's really why I came here today, to this place, where we had such dreams for the future. I came to say that it's time for me to let you go. It's time for me to find a way to live without you."

The bird was quiet and Harry wondered if it had flown away. No matter, now that the words had been said it had almost taken away the devastation he thought he'd feel at their meaning, and he felt oddly at peace. Maybe it was just the solitude; maybe it was the sunshine warming his heart as well. But maybe it was the fact that he had made a start, made a choice, made a decision on how he was going to live the rest of his life.

There would always be that place in his heart for Draco, and there would always be a big hole that only he could fill, but now Harry felt like he could actually live with what was left. There was going to be enough left over for him to survive after all. That was what was giving him that sense of peace.

He sighed almost in relief, and sat back enjoying the calm that had stolen over him, watching the stream flow, the sunlight glinting off the moving water. As the sun moved across the sky, Harry sat there, in this place of love, allowing it to gently repair some of the damaged walls of his heart.

When the bird finally announced that it was still there, Harry started, not realising that he had been sitting there for so long. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was 4.30, and if he wanted to catch the bus back to Hermione's, then he had better leave now. Today was Tuesday and on Tuesdays the last bus went by just before 5.00pm. He gave a sad smile and stood up.

"I'll miss you love," he whispered, and walked back up the garden path towards the side gate. Along the path, he noticed one of the pots that was full of Amaryllis was tipped over almost onto it's side. Squatting down, he thoughtfully stood it back up, twisting it into the ground a little to steady it so that it did not fall over again. These had been Draco's favorite flowers and there were pots of them dotted all over the place. In the spring they had delighted in the pockets of colour they made.

When he reached the front gate, he turned and looked back at the house one final time. There were no tears in his eyes as he looked, but there was a heaviness in his heart, knowing that this would be the last time that he would see this place; knowing that he may never see Draco again. That finally bought tears that stung his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to clear them.

Taking a deep breath, he blew a kiss towards the house, meaning it for Draco, turned, and walked back along the lane towards the bus stop.