CHAPTER ELEVEN
The conversation with Mr. Moore stayed with Harry for a long time. During the years they were together before, none of them had ever even considered the possibility of building a life together, the two of them, as a couple. They were engaged, and then married, and then had children, and everything seemed to be working out the way it should. They loved their wives, even if they weren't in love with them, and saw enough of each other, as even if they lived together, their jobs would keep them apart most of the time.
But now his life was completely different, and he felt strangely lonely, even if he saw Draco every week, and could see more of him if so he chose. He tried to get through to his mind that he could never ask such thing of the blond, and therefore should discard the idea altogether, but nothing is as persistent as an idea, and after weeks of denial, he finally allowed himself to consider what it could be like between them.
It wouldn't be too different, he figured. They had, after all, lived together, technically, for a short while, and it didn't mean having more of each other. But he longed to have someone to come home to, to share his life with in more senses than one, and not have to hide all the time. To know Draco was his no matter what, to the end of their lives.
It was due to such thoughts that his weekends at the manor gradually became less enjoyable. He still adored the other man's company, no matter what they did or didn't do together, and it still made him extremely happy to be with him, but the feelings were now accompanied by the loneliness of knowing the blond was only his for those few moments they shared. And it became harder and harder to suppress the sadness that took over him when the silver eyes weren't looking.
So Harry decided he wouldn't do it anymore.
"Be with me." He asked quietly, his head rising and falling softly to the rhythm of the blond's breathing, which was still slightly racy.
The request made Draco laugh, and the brunet raised himself on one elbow to look into silver eyes. "I thought that's what we were doing, Potter."
Harry looked away, not sharing the smile lingering on the other man's lips. He surely didn't expect any grand romantic gesture, but couldn't help feeling hurt his lover took his plea as a joke. "No, Draco, I mean..." He hesitated, afraid another spear would pierce through his heart at the reply. " I mean, really be with me. Just me and no one else. As... as a proper couple." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Where is this coming from now, Potter?" Draco questioned, clearly uncomfortable, sitting up with his back against the headboard. He waited for a reply as the other man sat beside him, still avoiding to look at him, but none came. "You know I can't, Harry." He said softly, savoring the name he so seldom used.
"Why not?" The brunet asked in a tiny voice, sounding almost childish. "The kids are all grown up, and you don't owe anything to anybody."
"It's not just me I have to consider, you know. Sure the kids don't depend on me as much anymore, but Lily's just twelve, and even the others, they still need me and Astoria as their family. And then there's Astoria-"
"You won't stop being their family just because you split up. And it's not like you're in love with her or anything, is it?"
"I love her, Potter, and you know that. And I owe her more than just to leave her on a whim."
"It wouldn't be a whim. We've been together for a long time, almost as long as you and her."
"Except for that ten-year hiatus." Draco mocked, the urge to escape the conversation growing on his chest.
"Still you waited for me." Harry whispered.
"Why are you asking me for this now?"
"I... We belong together. I just want to be together."
"Up until now, what we have was enough. What's changed?"
Harry looked down to his hands playing on his lap, very aware of the silver eyes watching him. "We each had our lives before, and that was the best we could get. But now-"
"Just because your life was thrown upside down and now you're nice and available, doesn't mean I have the same luxury. My whole life is still there, Potter, and though I've been making more concessions to you, it doesn't mean I can just give it all up for a stupid romantic ideal."
"I know that." the brunet replied defensively. "I know I'm asking a lot. But if you'd ever asked me, I would've left Ginny without a second thought."
"But that decision wasn't yours to make, so the burden isn't yours to carry."
Harry didn't reply.
A few minutes later, Draco got up and started getting dressed.
"I just feel you're my whole life, and I thought you felt the same." Harry said at last. "But it seems I'm willing to sacrifice so much more for us than you are."
The blond stopped at the door, his back to the bed. "If what we have isn't good enough for you, Potter, feel free to walk away."
Only a lifetime of practice allowed Draco to keep the heartbreak out of his voice.
Harry tossed and turned on his bed all night, and when he got to the dining room for breakfast the next morning, Draco was almost done and quickly excused himself, claiming business emergencies, without exchanging more than two words with the brunet.
"He does that all the time when you're not here." Astoria joked and smiled, but Harry didn't return the gesture. "Are you okay? You look tired, well, more than usual."
Green eyes met blue and, ignoring the question he'd been posed, he replied with one of his own. "Why do you do it?"
"I'm sorry?" She blinked a few times, confused.
"Why do you stay with him? Why do you tolerate me, accept me, when you've known about my relationship with Draco almost from the start?"
She sighed with a smile. "I wondered if you'd ever ask, or just accept it." She commented, sipping her coffee. "I suppose it's highly unusual. I'm certain your late wife would be a little more radical about the issue?"
"Yeah." He smiled sadly. It still hurt him to know she died living a lie. "I'd be lucky if she just kicked me out under a shower of shouts and insults. Maybe with the occasional hitting me with my suitcase or something."
The image made Astoria giggle, and the brunet relaxed a little.
"I love him." She said after a moment, and he just waited in silence for her to continue. "I just have to look at the two of you together, and I know I could never compete with what you have. It's beautiful, and inspiring, and in my case, one-sided. I could never make him as happy as you can, but there are certain things I can provide him that you can't." She let her eyes wander down to the table, where she was distractedly playing with her now empty coffee cup. "Scorpius, for example, even though you gave him our other three wonderful children. I give him the image of a traditional family, and that's important for the business. And I keep him company, and help him with things he can't do alone, like maintaining a healthy social life. In exchange, I get to spend my life beside the person I love most." She smiled gently at him, and he recognized the shadow of sadness which undoubtedly came from knowing she'd only ever have part of him. "And he does love me, even if it's not the same way I love him." She continued after a few moments. "So I'd rather share him, even because being with you makes him so happy, than live a life deprived of him."
Harry felt a pang of guilt for his selfish request the night before, and only nodded in reply. They finished eating in silence and Harry returned to Grimmauld Place with more than enough in his mind to ruminate for hours.
"How much is it worth compromising to be with someone?" Harry asked quietly, distractedly pushing the wheelchair around the green yard.
"Ah, so he's not willing to leave his wife to be with you?"
The brunet smiled sadly and shook his head. "It's unfair of me to ask, really, especially when his wife is willing to share if it means keeping part of him."
"She knows about you?" Mr. Moore asked with a raised eyebrow, and the younger man nodded. "You're in a really messed up relationship, aren't you?" He smiled and Harry giggled. "You're the only one who can tell what you're willing to sacrifice, son." He continued, his tone serious. "But maybe you should consider... What do you kids call it?" He thought for a moment, and the brunet waited patiently. "Taking a break from your relationship. You know what it's like being together, and what you have to sacrifice for that. Try finding out the cost of not being together; it might be less than you imagine."
"Yeah, maybe." He agreed quietly, and they finished the walk in silence.
Maybe Mr. Moore is right, Harry thought as he walked home, later that same day. There was still over a month before the children returned from Hogwarts - when he'd be forced to be around Draco if he wanted to see his kids -, and he could use the time to meet other people, and see what life could be like having the blond only as a friend.
Even if the mere thought made him shudder and crave the touch of alabaster skin against his naked body.
Decided to put his plan to action, the next Friday Harry found himself going from his wardrobe to the full-size mirror behind the door for nearly an hour before settling on an outfit, and another twenty minutes trying to do something with his ever-rebellious hair, just to conclude yet again that it stayed the way it wanted to, and nobody could do a thing about it. Sighing, he made sure he had everything he'd need on him and left through the front door.
He wasn't sure where people his age hung out nowadays - the last time he'd been out to meet people, he'd been in his early 20s -, but opted for a night club just the same, hoping he wouldn't be too out of place. Perhaps somewhere they actually played music, instead of the same electronic beat put on loop. If anything, he'd know where not to go next.
It took a little walking around the club district - and Harry was surprised at the variety of specialties the clubs offered - before he found one that pleased him. There was only a short line at the door, and the average age of those waiting to get in was mid-30s, which made him feel a lot more confident. That wasn't much of an age difference, and hopefully he'd mingle right in.
As opposite to what he remembered, the inside of the club wasn't covered in smoke, with the air damp and heavy from overcrowding and sweaty people on the dance floor; there were some couples dancing to a slower pace, others sitting at the many tables around the room, and a small bar on a corner, where Harry quickly found a stool from where to watch the action and the people.
He was only halfway through his first beer when a tall brunette approached him with a large smile and tried to chat him up, but five minutes were all it took for him to identify her as the superfluous kind, after a rich guy to support her, and he was having none of it. Claiming he needed to use the restroom, he slipped away from her, and spent the next several minutes avoiding her until she lost interest.
After that, he got to spend a healthy amount of time observing the scene, glad to be just another stranger in the middle of the muggles. The longer he spent in that world, the more alluring the anonymity seemed, and he caught himself wondering if he should renounce the wizarding world completely.
Another two women like the first later, a light headache started forming, and his eyes got heavy. He wasn't used to staying up late anymore, and it was starting to take its toll on him. Just as he considered calling it a night, a short woman with jet black hair cut short and a navy dress cut even shorter approached him.
She offered to buy him a drink, and they soon engaged in conversation, which as usual took a little creativity from Harry, but by now it was an exercise he was used to and had learned to enjoy. They spent just under an hour talking before she persuaded him to the dance floor, and they moved along with the soft ballads playing on the background for a while. As they fell quiet, enjoying the beat, he started wondering if he was expected to invite her to his place, and how impractical that would be; Grimmauld Place was an intrinsically magical house. And what should he do if she invited him over?
At that thought, he realized that, while he'd enjoyed her company and conversation, he wasn't interested in doing anything remotely sexual with her. He'd like to keep her as a friend, but clueless as he was about these matters, he knew she wouldn't appreciate it, especially after he'd spent the night putting his rusty flirtatious skills to use. So he began considering ways of letting her down as gently as he could, but nothing he came up with seemed any better than the last thought.
When the fifth or sixth song ended, he felt before he saw her taking a half-step back, and as her lips touched his, he knew beyond doubt he wasn't attracted to her. He parted the kiss as gently as he could, and she looked at him with some confusion, which grew when he took a full step back and pulled his arms away from her.
Babbling an excuse, he made his way to the exit, but not before she made sure he had his number so they could hook up some other time. Harry smiled embarrassedly when she dashed the number down on his palm, and waved briefly as he walked away. The air outside the club was cooler than inside, but with summer quickly approaching, it wasn't nearly as cold as the brunet had hoped for.
He had to walk a couple of blocks before finding a taxi, and took a quick shower before going to bed and crashing almost immediately, all the while wondering if it wasn't maybe too soon to meet new people.
Harry nodded at the doorman with a smile, entering the crowded and warm room, music blaring loudly on his ears. It wasn't his first time at the muggle club, and he headed straight to the bar area, from where he usually spent most of the night watching the mass of bodies move on the dance floor, rarely joining them.
The first half hour was spent between him and his couple of beers (which weren't as tasty as Butterbeer, but he found it to be an acquired taste), before a young, smiling man approached him and stretched out a hand in silent invitation. Needing some physicality to release the tension generated in his latest argument with Ginny, he accepted the invitation and lost himself in the beat, moving against faceless others until he was panting and his body was begging for hydration.
Excusing himself to his dance partner, he made his way back to the bar and ordered a bottle of water, of which he drowned half at one go before even looking around. When he finally did, a head with hair so light it glowed in the dark caught his eyes. Raising an eyebrow, he pondered whether or not to approach the man while he finished his drink.
It took a few tries to cover the twenty feet or so which separated them, with too many people moving in different directions, but eventually he reached the blond who hadn't yet noticed his presence.
"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked close to Draco's ear, making the other man jump in place.
Once he recovered of the scare, he turned to Harry with a smirk. "I should've figured you'd show up when I'm trying to be away from our world, Potter."
The brunet laughed and turned to the bar, to get the bartender's attention. "What are you drinking?" He said loudly over the music while he waited to be served.
"You're seriously buying me a drink, Potter?"
"I'd take advantage of it while the offer still stands, if I were you." He smiled. " So, what is it?"
Draco stared at him for another moment before making up his mind. "I don't know. Something with a strange name muggles seem to love."
"Two of whatever he's having." He told the bartender, who nodded and placed two clean glasses on the counter, pouring a clear liquid on them. Harry thanked him and paid for the drinks before taking a sip. "Vodka?" He asked, making a face.
"What, too strong for you, Potter?" The blond mocked.
"I just wasn't expecting it." He replied defensively, making the other laugh. "Anyway, I never thought I'd find you in a muggle club, let alone one like this."
"Likewise, Potter. Shouldn't you be with the Weasley girl living happily ever after?"
"Shouldn't you be with that Slytherin girl, what's her name?"
"Astoria. And touché."
Harry laughed. "We don't talk about it, then."
"We don't talk at all, how's that?"
"Oh, come on, I bought you a drink." He pleaded mockingly, gaining a roll of eyes in return. "You look like you need to relax, Malfoy."
"Why would you think you'd know what I need, Potter?"
"Case in point." He replied with a smile. "Come on. Let's have some fun." He nodded towards the dance floor, drinking the last of his vodka.
"You're joking, Potter." He replied with a scowl.
"No, seriously. Come on. Just for a while, let's pretend we're not ourselves. We're just two guys at a club trying to have a good time."
"I don't think so."
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the music, or the place, or the way the moon was shining and the planets aligned, but suddenly Harry really wanted to dance with the blond and wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Don't be a bore, Malfoy." He replied, grabbing the man by the arm. "Play along."
"Unhand me, Potter." He ordered, but everything from his body language to his tone said he didn't mean it as much as he wanted to. Harry just smiled and tugged at the blond. "It had to be you to wreck with my night, didn't it, Potter?" He complained, drowning the last of his drink and standing up.
They remained on the edge of the dance floor, and Draco stood perfectly still watching the brunet move. It took Harry a few moments to realize he was dancing alone and, rolling his eyes, he pulled the blond closer.
"It's all about the hips, Malfoy." He said over the music, placing his hands on each side of Draco's hips and pushing from side to side.
The blond was baffled by Harry's boldness, and couldn't decide if he should push him away, yell at him, or simply hex him. Before he could make up his mind, people dancing behind him pushed him against the brunet, and he couldn't help moving along to the beat, and they were dancing together.
And it was with shock that he realized it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd imagined.
The longer they danced together, the bolder they got, rubbing up against each other, looking into each other's eyes, daring the other to move closer. So it was a natural consequence of their game that their lips would eventually meet in a lustful kiss, hungry for each other. Suddenly they were just standing on the dance floor, lip-locked and with hands exploring and pulling their bodies closer.
A minute passed, then another, and another.
When they finally came up for air, their eyes met, green and silver darkened with desire. Harry was about to make a move to get back into the action when the blond turned around and started marching towards the exit. Confused, Harry followed, fighting the mass of people standing on the way.
"Malfoy!" He called as soon as the chill air hit his face.
A cracking sound was the only response he got, and just like that Draco was gone.
Harry sat up with the sound of his voice calling out for the blond still echoing in the silent room and sighed. He hadn't thought of that day in a long time, and just like in the dream, Draco had left without an explanation. And he'd been left behind confused and wanting more.
So much for taking a break from him, Harry thought annoyed, letting himself fall back on the pillow, eyes on the ceiling. Now he was awake, it didn't seem he'd be falling back asleep any time soon, and judging by the color of the sky, he still had a long time to lie there alone with his thoughts.
He tried to avoid it for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but his mind stubbornly always returned to Draco. Until very recently, he didn't spend long pondering over their relationship, for any number of reasons, but now he felt very much at a fork in the road: one way meant he bowed down to the blond's demands and they remained lovers, but never partners; the other meant they'd never be more than friends, but gave him the opportunity to find someone who'd be entirely his. He couldn't help feeling somewhat hypocritical, considering he'd put his wife in the same position, even if she didn't know about it, and was perfectly happy having both.
Thinking back, it was really strange the way he and Draco had gone from school enemies to being on opposite sides in the war, to being on the same side, to becoming friends and lovers. More than that, when he finally connected with the blond a few years after the war, he felt complete like Ginny could never make him, as if his life had been nothing but a big plan culminating in that moment. Which sounded silly and egocentric even to his ears, yet the feeling remained. The expression "soul-mates" never sounded so appropriate.
After the day they met by chance in Battersea Park, Harry felt drawn to the place, hoping they'd meet again. Without the weight of the war and the destiny of the Wizarding world on their shoulders, he'd managed not only to have civilized conversations with Draco, but to actually reach some friendly stage in their relationship. The blond seemed beat by all that had fallen on his lap, and clearly found teasing his old nemesis a waste of effort; Harry was fed up with being a celebrity and having everyone tell him what to do and how to feel, when they didn't really understand what it was like to be him. And with their defenses down, the two men found in each other a confident, someone with whom they could be completely honest without a care for feelings or images. They'd seen the worst of each other, and they didn't have feelings for each other. They had nothing to lose.
At first, they met every couple of weeks, always sitting on opposite ends of the park bench and hardly ever looking at each other. Harry learned about the pressure of growing up with as a Malfoy, and being one after the fall of the Dark Lord, and it wasn't that different from being the Golden Boy. Granted, one was technically positive and the other negative, but just the same it meant people saw in them a character created by the media, and felt entitled to judge and interfere in their lives.
It was very strange, the first time the brunet stepped into the Malfoy manor, this time as a guest, not a prisoner. He couldn't help seeing the ghosts of what had happened, and Draco confessed he didn't use the parts of the house which composed the Dark Lord's headquarters if he could help it. He met Astoria later that day, when they all had tea together, and she was impeccable as a host.
Thinking back, there were signs back then, already.
Like the way the two of them shared a couch instead of each taking an armchair.
Or how often green was locked with silver, and the constant smiles they shared.
By then, the blond was already one of the first people to come to Harry's mind when anything happened, even though he didn't go Draco first.
It was around that time too that he and Ginny started arguing, partially because he wanted to keep his new friendship a secret and it'd begun consuming increasing amounts of his relatively scarce free time, partially because they'd started living together, and were having trouble adjusting to each other and getting past pet peeves.
Harry begun frequenting muggle clubs to get away not only from her but the harassment he couldn't escape in the Wizarding world, and moved on to gay clubs when he realized men were a great deal less annoying than women, especially when he told them he just wanted to dance and have fun, but not actually do anything with them. And he'd always been interested in the male form, and soon realized it was actually attraction, which only increased the appeal of such places. Plus, the music was so much better.
And then came the day he found Draco at one of those clubs, and it was really the first time he cheated on the redhead.
The kiss that rocked his world.
Draco had done a splendid job of avoiding him after that, until the day Astoria was the one to answer the fireplace and let him in. He was taken to the blond's office, and though he felt extremely uncomfortable walking side-by-side with the woman as if he didn't spend unreasonable amounts of time fantasizing about her then fiancé, they finally reached their destination and she closed the door behind him.
A thick, wooden door which muffled most, if not all, sound in and out the room.
The forced meeting ended up being explosive, with clothes adorning various furniture items around the room and two naked bodies trying to catch their breaths, sprawled on the rug.
In retrospect, they never really discussed what they were doing, or what they were to each other. At first it was mostly physical, and after the children were born, the visits became marginally more chaste, and conversation became a constant over babysitting duties. At some point, Astoria became aware of the shift in their relationship, and though they were discreet around the little ones, they behaved freely around her.
With both of them eager to stay out of the papers, keeping the relationship in a strictly need-to-know basis seemed a given, and perhaps that would've gone on for years, had destiny not chosen to interfere.
Fine, Death Eaters, but the results were the same.
And now here he was, having to choose between having to share Draco and keep their relationship secretive for the rest of their lives, or live without him. There didn't seem to be any other reasonable alternative, and both were equally heartbreaking.
Harry played at doing a mental pros-and-cons list for a while, but didn't reach any conclusions. It was all too much, too intense, and he hadn't even begun to consider the impact said relationship could have on the already fragile state of matters between him and his offspring.
It was only as the first rays of sunshine entered the room that he finally fell into a restless sleep.