Chapter 5. Don't let Go.

Hands in his pockets, Harry walked back up the road to catch the bus back to Hermione's. His mind was still on the house he had left a few minutes ago, and he wondered if he should get someone in to keep the garden up. It would be a shame for it to deteriorate into a wild tangle of weeds and overgrown shrubs. Not when it held such beauty; a beauty that should not be lost to negligence. If he could bring himself to do the gardening, he would, but that was something he didn't think he could face.

He reached the bus stop and stood there waiting, feeling settled for the first time since Draco had left. Even though thinking his name still made his heart pound in aching sorrow, it was now something he felt he could deal with. Now he felt he could face keeping himself busy enough to make the ache go away for periods of time. Smiling gently to himself he was amazed that in the space of a day, with the help of Hermione and the gentle reassurance of the peaceful garden, he had made such progress.

Taking his hand from his pocket to look at his watch, he saw that it was ten minutes to five. Almost time for the bus. As he dropped his hand, the bracelet of Draco's that he had meant to leave at the house, chinked against his watch. Damn. He stood there in indecision for a moment. If he went back to the house, then he would miss the bus. On the other hand, if he didn't, then he would need to make another journey back here. Once he left here today, he had no plans on ever coming back.

Absently pushing his hand through his hair, making more of a mess than it usually was, he decided that he would go back to the house and just Apparate back to Hermione's. He would miss the soothing rocking of the bus ride home, but it couldn't be helped. As he walked back to the house, he removed the bracelet and held it in his hand so as not to forget once more the reason for being there. He pushed open the side gate and made his way down the path, not noticing that the back door was ajar.

He stepped under the archway, and stopped. There was someone sitting on the bench in the garden, looking out across to the stream.

Draco.

You are my world Draco.

And you are mine.

Harry's heart began thumping wildly, all the blood drained from his face. Why now? What was he doing here now? He was supposed to be in Paris. Oh, hell, what was he going to do? What could he say?

Draco looked so peaceful sitting there. He looked happy, if a bit thin, he thought as his eyes raked over Draco's body and face. For one heart stopping moment he wondered if he should just turn around and leave. Nothing good could come from this he was sure. He was bound to break down if he stayed, and that would just be embarrassing for both of them.

Never leave me Harry.

I couldn't even if I tried.

The seconds slipped past and still Draco had not seen him, which allowed Harry time to get himself under some sort of control. From the minute he'd seen Draco, his Draco…no… not his Draco anymore, sitting there, all he wanted to do was to run and hold him in his arms one more time. He felt like all the walls he had been building today were cracking at the seams, showing them for the weak, frail things they were. But he couldn't bring himself to leave.

After an eternity he composed his face and slowly moved towards the man on the bench, his heart in his mouth. He found his voice and croaked out,

"Draco…"

The blond jumped all but out of his skin and was instantly on his feet. He turned quickly, not quite sure what to expect and when he saw Harry all he could feel was... confusion, because his heart neither sank nor leapt into his mouth. For a moment he actually went physically numb and only managed to regain any sort of control over his body when he felt his knees start to give out.

He swallowed and looked Harry over, trying to avoid looking directly into his eyes as much as possible without seeming deliberate. "You look... well," were the only words he could muster at the moment and he regretted them as soon as they'd left his mouth, for Harry didn't look well at all.

Managing to drag his eyes away from Draco, Harry looked down at his feet. He knew he didn't look good, far from it. Again he wished he were anywhere but here. This was going to be worse than he thought. No 'Hello Harry', in fact no greeting at all. No flash of pain or longing in his eyes, no indication that he even missed me, just polite lies that you would say to an acquaintance… or worse, a stranger. Maybe that was for the best, keep things civil, polite even.

Coughing to clear his throat and at least sound normal, he answered, "Thank you, as do you."

There was a short silence then and neither boy moved or spoke, each avoiding the other's eyes as the quiet chirping of the birds continued overhead. Draco was nervous and it was a strange feeling because it was like nothing he had ever felt before or could possibly hope to describe. It was almost as though he were meeting Harry for the first time to discuss a business deal... There was no feeling of familiarity, and at the moment only the slightest niggling pain in his gut and if Harry were to turn and walk away now Draco knew it would subside. Already he was looking for a way out, an escape, because he had no idea what this would do to him if he let the pain get any worse. He gave a small nod in reply and the faintest of smiles flickered fleetingly across his face as he fixed his gaze on a small patch of drying grass.

The silence was worse than talking, Harry thought. But what was he going to say? 'Oh I heard you've been fucking everything that moves'? That was a great conversation starter, he thought with a trace of bitterness. Awkwardly, he shifted his feet and went to put his hands in his pockets, then realised that he was still holding the gold bracelet in his hand. He didn't want to give it directly to Draco and risk having it refused, so he quickly hid it in his pocket.

"Umm…should we sit?" he asked, thinking it might be easier to talk if they weren't facing each other, and Draco had obviously come to the same conclusion because the suggestion was met with a swift nod.

"Yes," the blond said stiffly and once again took a seat, the peace and tranquility he'd been feeling now shattered and painfully sharp. He tried to keep his mind on the stream directly in front of him as he felt Harry sit beside him. They weren't close enough to be sharing body heat, which Draco was thankful for at least, but Draco could feel the other boy's form, like a brick wall, beside him and it was all he could do not to flee.

Harry watched the stream flow past for a short while. It was less than an hour ago he has sat here on this very spot 'talking' to Draco. Things were so different now. He could feel the discomfiture rolling off Draco. He hadn't thought meeting Draco again would be so…uncomfortable, awkward, and painfully difficult. This was not how it should be; they had shared so much.

He leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Hermione tells me that you've been in Paris since…." you left, he mentally added, or rather, I let you go.

"Yes." Draco nodded, too nervous to even wonder how Granger had known this to tell Harry in the first place. "I, uh... rented an apartment there," he added, trying to appear nonchalant and unfazed while his stomach did some of the most painful flips he'd ever experienced.

The apartment. Harry closed his eyes as the memories of all those pictures surfaced and he willed himself not to break down and scream at Draco. He wasn't going to let Draco know that he knew about all the men. As much as it hurt, it was none of his business anymore.

"So, why are you back?" Immediately he said those words he regretted them. That was none of his business either. "Sorry…none of my business." He shook his head sadly and once again stared at the stream, as the singing bird started up again in the trees. Maybe he should just…leave. This was all wrong somehow.

Draco felt his stomach tighten at the question and was almost relieved when Harry gave him permission not to answer, but he wanted to say something, if just to keep himself from exploding. "Paris was too... high brow," he said, thoughtfully, "Too many people with too many expectations. England is... quiet. No one wants anything from me."

I do.

Oh, God help me, but I do. Harry gritted his teeth together harshly to stop from crying the words aloud. Instead he nodded, not really in agreement, just because he couldn't ignore that something had been said. He told himself to stop being so foolish. Things were dead and buried. There was no going back. The press had seen to that a long time ago. Why couldn't he let it drop?

""Even the press?" he asked when he had himself under control once more.

Draco gave a small, bitter chuckle at mention of the press and shook his head. "Well, if you want to count them as people, then I guess there are some who want something from me." He shifted slightly and ran his fingers awkwardly through his hair, pulling a few stray, platinum strands out of his eyes. "I haven't been out of the flat much since I've been back, but I don't doubt I'm all over the front page of the Daily Prophet."

"I wouldn't know. I refuse to read it." Harry wanted to lean back into the bench, he wanted to be able to take glimpses of Draco from the corner of his eye, but looking at him, seeing what would never again be his was just too distressing. Instead he looked at his feet and reached down to pluck a few blades of grass twirling them between his fingers.

There was another long silence after that and the tension that grew in that silence was so palpable that one could almost reach out and touch it. A butterfly fluttered across the unkempt lawn and Draco watched it until it had disappeared out of sight behind the trees. A cool breeze blew across the back of his neck and he shivered. "Why are you here?" he asked, "if you haven't been reading the Prophet?"

Harry's eyes had followed the butterfly for a while, envying it's freedom. Draco's question was a hard one to answer. Whilst he had been able to 'speak' to Draco before, he wasn't sure that he could actually say all that to his face. No, he decided, he couldn't tell him he would always love him. Draco didn't want to hear that. Sighing, he sat up straight and reached into his pocket drawing out the bracelet. He ran it through his fingers again.

"I…I came to leave this…I thought maybe one day if you ever came back you might…" he couldn't finish for he found that his throat had begun to close and his voice was starting to crack under the strain. Silently, he held it out to Draco, not looking at him, willing him to take it.

For what seemed like an age, Draco just stared at it. He looked but didn't really see, though he knew exactly what it was. He didn't take in the colour, he didn't take in the detail carved into it, nor did he seem to notice the way the sunlight hit it and reflected onto his arm. Confused and somewhat afraid, he looked up at Harry. "You kept it?" he asked, though he expected no answer and when he finally lifted a hand to take the bracelet, he found he was shaking.

He could feel Draco's eyes on him and it was unnerving, especially when his jaw was clenched and he was still swallowing hard just to clear his throat. He hadn't really kept it, he had no idea where it was, had not even thought about it since that night. It was only luck that he had come across it again while he was moving, but he nodded at Draco anyway. "I found it when I was moving out," he said quietly, still not trusting his voice.

"Oh..." Draco couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, but he nodded and turned back to the lake, the bracelet now clutched loosely in his hands. "When did you move out...?"

"A few weeks ago. I moved in with Hermoine," Harry answered. At least they were talking now, but it still felt so wrong, he thought. They should be in each other's arms right now, they should be...they just shouldn't be doing...this. Polite, civil, nothing. Harry knew himself; knew that one word of encouragement from Draco would be all it would take... but it wasn't going to happen. Draco was happy in his new life now, and the sooner Harry got used to that the better. But...faced with him, right here, right now, it was tearing down what he had begun to build.

Draco nodded again and fingered the bracelet gently, as if afraid he would break or damage it somehow. "And she knew about me moving to Paris?"

Harry swallowed thickly, nodding. He couldn't give away that she had him followed, he wasn't sure that she had the authority to do that. With all the society things Draco had attended, he was bound to have made the newspapers somewhere along the line, so anyone could have known that if they had been looking. "I always wanted to visit Paris..." he began in an echo of what he had said the last time he was sitting here.

With you though, only with you.

Draco frowned and shook his head. "It's not as great as people make out. It's not romantic or mysterious... it's not beautiful and scenic... it's drab... and grey and ugly." Draco almost seemed to collapse in on himself as he spoke of Paris and the thought of it was unpleasant to him. He took a deep breath. "You'd probably hate it."

"Maybe…" Not that it mattered anyway. There was no way he would be going now. Not alone.

Silence descended again as each of them was caught up in their own thoughts. Harry wasn't sure of what to say now. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to know, but they were all questions he couldn't ask. The answers would hurt too much. So, he sat there quietly, feeling Draco's presence so close beside him, yet so far away.

"There are some nice parts..." Draco said suddenly, as if there had no been pause. "Nice is a comfortable area... Less... buildings." He trailed off. This small talk was jarring and the only thing keeping him from leaving now was the fact that he knew Harry wouldn't follow... again. The anger he felt for Harry had been lost in a sea of fear and confusion up until now, but as Draco thought back on the reasons things were this way now, he felt the resentment once again begin to surface.

Harry looked up and around the garden, and out across the countryside. There were less buildings here too. That was one of the reasons they had bought out here. Space, freedom, peace. Or so they had hoped. He wondered where Draco was living now. What if he wanted to move back in here? Harry didn't want to think of that, because Draco wouldn't live alone for long, and the thought of someone else living here with him... Absently, he wrung his hands together in front of him until the pain made him stop and look at what he was doing.

"So, what do you think we should do with this then?" he asked, indicating the house and garden.

Draco looked it over. He hadn't actually thought about that. He'd been too afraid of finding Harry still here when he'd arrived and then been so caught in the memories when he'd discovered that he wasn't, that he hadn't given any thought to what should become of the old cottage. "I guess we could sell it," he suggested, not entirely sure how serious he was being about that. "Or... maybe let it out to other people?"

"You wouldn't want to live here then?" Harry asked, relieved that it hadn't been Draco's first response.

The blond shook his head "No," he said simply. "I don't think I could, really. Too many..." He paused and ran a finger down the seam in his jeans. "It's too big for me," he finished. It was a two person house, he knew it, and no length of time spent in that house alone would change that fact.

"Yes… too big for me too."

And too empty without you.

Selling would probably be best. Best if after today, they severed all ties really. Keeping the house would only serve as a reminder that they were still connected in some way. Harry was starting over again. It needed to be a clean start, no ties to old lives… old loves. Biting his lip because everything still hurt like razor blades in his gut, he added, "It's best if we sell it I think."

Draco nodded silently and looked the house over. The old bricks were chipped and weatherworn, a window was cracked, and the ivy had all but covered one side of it. A big empty house. A big empty house that had once been so full of love and warmth and now they were going to sell it. Draco's chest suddenly felt very constricted and he swallowed back the lump in his throat as a gentle breeze blew a few loose strands of hair into his eyes.

Harry felt rather than saw Draco nod, and couldn't help but treat his reaction as another blow. Suddenly, he knew he couldn't sit there a moment longer and not break down, so he stood and walked to the stream, squatting down to pluck a reed from the edge. Hoping he was hiding his anguish from Draco, he stayed down, taking deep breaths, trying like hell to not let the stinging of the tears in his eyes overflow and fall down his cheek.

Draco wasn't quite sure if the pain that suddenly stabbed at his heart was just the pressure of the whole situation getting to him, or if it was the sudden loss of Harry's body from beside him. He didn't move for a while, just let the sound of the wind through the trees distract him for as long as it would before pushing himself reluctantly up and following Harry to the stream. "How do you suppose we go about doing it, then?" he asked, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.

Draco's voice from close behind surprised Harry so that he started. Recovering, he shrugged, "Contact the agent we bought it from, I guess." He stared at the reed still in his hands all broken and twisted, with a frown. "I'll do that tomorrow if you like," he added in almost a whisper.

He really needed to leave, this was too… unbearable. But, he couldn't make himself go. It was as if a part of him was deriving some perverse enjoyment at this agony. It was all wrong, nothing about this was right, they should be… His shoulders sagged and he tossed the bruised, bent and broken reed into the stream and watched it sail away.

"Right." Draco nodded, the stream, grass, sky and Harry all blurring into faded watercolours as tears stung and pricked at the corners of his eyes and fought for their freedom. He took a deep breath and felt the pit of his stomach fall away as he realised they had nothing more to say to each other... "Harry I..."

Harry's stomach lurched, he wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. "What, Draco?" he asked quietly, after a moment when he was sure that Draco was not going to continue.

Draco steadied himself. He knew that he would likely never see Harry again after today, and there was a question he'd wanted answered for nine months. "Why did you just let me go?" His voice was flat and cold, but only because he was trying so very hard not to collapse in on himself.

A hundred things flashed through Harry's mind at that question, and he almost laughed. Instead he took a deep breath and tried to answer as best he could. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, Draco. You were dying inside and I couldn't bear to see how much being with me hurt you."

And you wanted to go, you said you were leaving.

"Harry..." Draco shook his head. "Being with you wasn't what was hurting me... Being with you... being with you was the only thing keeping me sane." He smiled, but it was empty and it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I wanted you to follow me. I walked to the taxi really slowly, Harry."

Harry's heart was in his mouth, "So why did you leave me then?"

A hollow laugh escaped him and Draco turned and took a few steps away from the other boy, feeling himself losing the battle to keep his tears back. "I had to get away from everything. I was hurting, but not because of you." He turned slowly back to Harry and just... looked at him for a while. "You didn't even ask me to stay..."

Harry frowned. "How could I have? You said…" Harry stopped and rubbed his scar. This wasn't happening, this was NOT happening. Draco had left him, telling him that things couldn't stay the same. He had left him. Standing slowly, he turned and looked over Draco's shoulder, still not willing to look into those eyes. Very afraid of the answer, he asked, "Would you have stayed if I had asked?"

Draco couldn't lie. He knew Harry's asking would have changed nothing, it wouldn't have altered his decision to leave but perhaps it would have made leaving that bit less painful. "No." he admitted, voice hushed as he concentrated on the ground at Harry's feet.

"Right," Harry answered, unable to keep a trace of bitterness from his voice. Talking about all this changed nothing then, all it did was make him feel worse. His gaze flicked to Draco's face and his stomach twisted into knots.

Why couldn't you have said Yes?

"But..." Draco continued. "If you'd followed me... if you'd come looking... if you'd just tried to find me... maybe..." he sighed and shook his head. "Maybe things would have been different."

Oh…

Now, Harry's heart was breaking all over again and tears pooled in his eyes. "You left me Draco. I let you go because I felt I had no choice when you said you wanted to leave, but you left me. Even if I had, nothing had changed. How could I have asked you to come back to that?"

"You could have tried... Harry you didn't even try." Now Draco had lost the battle and the first tear broke free and trickled silently down his cheek. "I waited to hear from you... For months I hoped you'd come and find me... but you never did... and I was so angry with you... and I tried so hard to forget you, but I couldn't. I dreamt about you every night and I woke up every day and nearly died every time I realised you weren't there." Draco covered his face with his hands and cried now, knowing he'd just bared his soul and there was no taking it back.

The thing that Harry wanted so desperately to do was to take Draco in his arms, and never ever let him go again. Had he been wrong the whole time? Had letting Draco go not been the best thing after all? Was Draco really not happy? He had certainly looked happy in those photos. Those photos.

"You could have come back Draco, instead of…" He bit his lip hard and took a shaky breath, he was not going to talk about all those other men. Distressed, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I lost everything that meant anything to me the day you walked out."

"So did I, Harry," Draco whispered. "So did I."

"You were hurting so much, being with me was destroying you and I couldn't stand by and watch you dying any more. That's why I let you walk out. That's why I never looked for you. I thought you would be happy away from all that, away from me." Harry looked at Draco, the lines of pain and loss marked deep in creases across his face.

"When you left, the only thing that kept me going was the thought that you had the chance to be happy again. Every time I thought about you, it was like someone had ripped out some vital part of me that I needed just to make it through each day. I thought about you every second of every day. I lost my job, my friends, everything, and I didn't care. The only thing I cared about was that you weren't with me."

"I wanted to be with you." Draco said earnestly. "Every day, I wanted to be with you. I could only ever think of you. I kept wondering if maybe things would have worked if you'd come with me to Paris... if you'd shown up one day... maybe we could have started again." He stopped and screwed up his face against the next wave of tears that threatened. He was in so much pain and so torn now... should he leave or should he stay? He didn't know anymore.

"Maybe," Harry agreed. But it was all too late now wasn't it? Maybe it was time to stop hurting each other by reliving this. It was doing neither of them any good. Draco had his new life, and Harry had… well Harry was going to have a new life too, if he could bring himself to ever leave.

There was silence for a while, and Harry stood and watched as the sun began to dip low into the sky, casting a golden light across the garden. Harry sighed raggedly. He couldn't leave and yet he couldn't stay. Every thing in his head was telling him to leave now before he hurt anymore, but his heart was telling him that he didn't want to be anywhere else than right here beside Draco.

The silence grew longer and Draco's tears dried, though his eyes were still red and puffy. It was a while until he was able to speak again. "Maybe... maybe we should stop. It's getting late." The blond informed, wiping a few loose strands of hair from his forehead.

Nodding, Harry replied. "Yes, Hermione will be wondering where I am. I'll let you know what the agent says about the house, will I?" He was trying frantically to keep his voice steady as now that it came to leave, he was in a panic and something in his stomach turned over. This might be the last time he ever saw Draco.

Oh, please…no…

Draco cleared his throat, wiped an imaginary piece of lint from his jeans and held out his hand, looking Harry in the eye finally. He was doing this... he was actually going to leave.

Harry looked at the hand for what seemed like a long time. Touching Draco, taking his hand, was so final. And Ironic. What had started as enmity in their first year with a refused handshake would end so many years later with an accepted one. They were older and wiser now and no longer enemies. Perhaps this was fitting after all.

Trembling slightly, Harry took Draco's hand and was unable to stop a whimper at the feel of Draco's flesh against his palm and wrapped around his hand. He looked up in anguish into Draco's eyes, and everything seemed to fall away. The only thing that Harry could see was Draco's eyes. In Draco's eyes he finally saw the pain that the blond was in. His head was swimming and he felt faint, drowning in those eyes. He couldn't let him go, not again, not without a fight this time. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He took a deep breath and gave it another try. What came out was hoarse and cracked and laced with emotion.

"I can't let go Draco. I can't let you go."

And there it was. The words Draco had been waiting to hear nine months before. The words that he'd never heard. The words that he was hearing now, and he fell. And as he realised what this meant, he knew what he had to say.

"Then don't."

FIN:

.o0o.

Epilogue:

Three weeks later and the garden almost preened under the sun of late summer. The roses along the pathway were in full bloom, a brilliant red, and the arbour was sparkling, full of white petals. The beds were all freshly planted and the lawns were neatly mowed. Beautiful music drifted through the garden, seemingly a perfect accompaniment to the lush, peaceful setting. In the space of green grass near the stream, Harry and Draco stood smiling at each other In this perfect setting, there were tears in both their eyes as they completed their vows and their journey back into each other's arms.

Just as they had dreamed.