The Leaves talked in the Twilight, 3/3 Complete
The Leaves talked in the Twilight, 3/3
August 16th
Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his insides twisted into excruciating knots. He doubled over as another wave of agony ripped through his insides. He gasped for air when they passed, panting and clenching the sheets. He was still aching when another wave hit, taking his breath again. When that one passed, he noticed that his abdomen was distended and tender to the touch. He was in definite trouble.
His first instinct was to floo Draco, but that would be a waste of time. Draco and Astoria had gone to France, to spend a few weeks with Narcissa. She thought some time on the beach would be beneficial, and Astoria had agreed. Draco had been less agreeable, but in the end, he had agreed to go.
Another wave of pain ripped through him before he was able to get out of bed, dragging himself across the floor in order to floo St. Mungo's. Once he had gotten through, everything seemed to speed up. An orderly and a healer came through, diagnosed him and apparated him to a room that was clearly in the hospital.
He found himself in the midst of a flurry of activity, spells lit the space with various colours and beeping noises. A female healer gave him a bright orange potion, which he gagged down before slumping over in exhaustion. He blinked a few times at the healer who had given him the potion, and then everything went black.
August 18th
Harry sat on the edge of his hospital bed, waiting for Katie to come back with Healer Shanks, to discharge him. He was fine now, the pain was gone and despite still being tired, he wasn't feeling nauseous at all.
Well, that was to be expected, now that he wasn't pregnant anymore.
He sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking back tears. Katie assured him that his emotions would be erratic for a few days, until all the hormones had left his system. He hated feeling so unstable, so alone. With Ron and Hermione gone and Draco not due back for more than a week, he felt adrift.
He had underestimated how attached he had become to his baby. Losing it had broken his heart, turning his emotions inside out. And now he was faced with not only the loss of the child, but of Draco.
They had become close, or so Harry had thought. They had potential. Maybe, just maybe they could have become something more. But now, with nothing to connect them, he had lost any hope that he had been stubbornly denying. It was useless to deny it now. He wanted Draco. Passionately. Oh, it had always been passionate between them, so it wasn't a big surprise that, now that they had moved past their animosity, that passion had slipped from hate into...something else. Something Harry wasn't ready to admit to just yet.
He didn't know what to do now. And how was he going to tell Draco? His thoughts were interrupted but the entrance of Katie and Healer Shanks. He would deal with his dilemma later.
August 28th
Draco ordered the coffees, handing over more than enough cash and waving away the change. He gave the barista a wide grin, unable to contain it. Against all odds, he had missed Harry. A lot. He was eagerly looking forward to seeing him again.
Astoria had continued to needle him about what she had labelled his 'crush' on Harry. Draco had to admit she had a point, but 'crush' was more than a bit of an understatement by this point. He didn't want to put a label on it, more out of self protection than anything else. And he'd certainly never admit it to Astoria. She was like a niffler after a galleon, never letting up.
He smiled again at the barista as he collected his coffee, chuckling at her resulting blush. 'Ahh,' he thought. 'If only she knew.' He left the coffee shop with a spring in his step, eager to get to Harry's house as soon as possible.
It didn't take long until he was knocking on Harry's door, tray in hand. Harry opened it, waving Draco inside and closing the door behind him.
“Hello, Harry!” Draco exclaimed, beaming at Harry. “Have you missed me?”
“Err...yes,” Harry said quietly. “I'm glad you're back. I liked the postcard.”
“Oh, you just missed the coffee,” Draco placed the tray on the table in Harry's sitting room, pulling out mochas for both of them. He handed one to Harry, who was looking pale and nervous, hovering beside the couch. "Quite a quaint Muggle thing, the postcard. I thought you'd like it."
"I did," Harry said, smiling weakly.
“Are you going to sit down?” Draco asked.
“I, uh...actually, I'm not feeling very good,” Harry said, fidgeting with the lid of his cup.
“Are you alright?” Draco put his cup down, crossing to Harry and pulling him to a seat on the couch. “Should I call Katie?”
“No, it's okay, I've already seen her,” Harry said, putting his cup down as well. “Draco, I...” He stopped, looking away from Draco.
“Harry, what is it?” he asked, sitting beside him, alarmed. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, but ended up saying nothing.
“I, it's...it's nothing, really.” Harry gave him a weak smile. “Do you mind if I skip lunch today? I think I'll go lie down.”
“Okay, sure,” Draco said. “I'll just stop by tomorrow, shall I?”
Harry's eyes shifted a bit, not meeting Draco's. “Actually, I'm not feeling the coffee so much anymore. I think I'd like to skip it.”
Draco was taken aback. He'd thought that Harry enjoyed their time together as much as he had.
“Just lunch, then?” Draco tried again, but Harry was still avoiding his eyes.
“I, uh...I'll owl you,” Harry said, standing up suddenly. “I need to go lie down now. I'll be in touch.”
“Okay,” Draco said, his brow furrowed in confusion. “If you need anything...” he trailed off.
“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling weakly. He turned and left the room, leaving Draco to see himself out. If he didn't know better, he'd think he'd been given the brush off. He glanced up the stairs toward Harry's room before leaving, his heart as heavy as the silence in the room behind him.
September 14th
“Draco, I'm sure it's fine,” Harry insisted, kneeling in front of the fire, where Draco's head floated, as if separate from his body.
“But I want to come,” Draco insisted just as fervently. “I've missed two appointments so far, and I don't want to miss another one.”
“But...Hermione is here and it would be better if I kept you separated, don't you think?”
“Isn't she in France with Weaselby?” Draco asked.
“Don't call him that,” Harry said, scowling. “And yes, she was, but she came home for the weekend...”
“It's not the weekend,” Draco pointed out.
“It was,” Harry said.
“I don't care. I can behave,” Draco assured him. Harry was starting to feel a bit desperate. Putting Draco off was getting harder and harder, but Harry still didn't have a clue how to tell him. Most of the time he could barely convince himself of the truth.
“That's not the point,” Harry said, sighing. “Just...I'll owl you when we're done. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow.”
“You never owl me!” Draco yelled. “You always say you will. We never do lunch anymore, and you never owl. You've been brushing me off since I got back from France.”
“Draco, Hermione's here, I've got to go,” Harry lied, desperate to end the conversation. He wished he could have avoided it altogether, but Draco seemed unable to take no for an answer.
“We're not done talking about this,” Draco said. “Harry!” he yelled, but Harry was already closing the floo.
“I'll owl you,” he said as he closed the floo all the way, slumping back on his couch. This was getting out of hand. He was still heartbroken. He kept looking at the book that Draco and Astoria had given him for his birthday, crushed that he'd never get to use it. He'd never have a child now, he knew. This had been his one chance, and it was gone.
How could he tell Draco? He knew that he should, and soon. It was horrible of him to have prevaricated this long. He had tried, the few times that he and Draco had been together since it happened, but he hadn't been able to actually get it out.
He let out a sigh, wondering now how he was going to be able to put Draco off that afternoon. Draco was sure to owl or floo, if he didn't just show up. He'd have to deal with it, then. No more evading or avoiding. He was a Gryffindor, dammit. He'd defeated the most powerful Dark Lord ever when he was seventeen years old. He could tell Draco Malfoy he'd lost the baby. He could, he...buried his head in his hands. When had he turned into such a coward?
*
Draco fell backwards onto the plush rug in front of the fireplace. Harry's abrupt closure of his floo had pushed Draco out rather violently. Fortunately, the rug was layered with cushioning charms.
This was getting ridiculous. Harry was avoiding him, there was no other explanation.
“That's it,” he said, getting up off the floor. “I'm going to that appointment, whether he wants me there not.”
*
Draco strode purposefully down the corridor toward Katie's office. He was right on time, so he was hoping to slip in without much fuss...hoping that Harry wouldn't make a fuss, that is. His reaction to Draco's attempts to spend time with him had been...evasive, at best, his excuses flimsy. Enough was enough.
Draco rapped sharply on the door and then opened it, putting on his best determined yet friendly face, only to have it slip away as he entered the room.
“Malfoy, what are you doing here?” Katie stood from behind her desk, he face filled with annoyance similar to what Draco was feeling. There were a man and a woman sitting in front of the desk, but they were decidedly not Harry and Hermione Granger. Weasley. Whatever.
“I'm here for our appointment, why else?” Draco explained, feeling rather off balance and defensive. “I must have got the time wrong, I'll just wait out here.”
“Malfoy, hold on,” Katie said, excusing herself to the couple in the office. “We need to talk.” She lead him down the hall to a quiet alcove, her expression softening. “Why do you think we have an appointment?” she asked quietly.
Draco looked at her as if she had sprouted horns. “Isn't the point of setting appointments in advance so that you know when you have to be somewhere? I'm sorry I'm early, I was sure i had the time right.”
Katie closed her eyes, as if praying for patience. “Well yes, we did have an appointment, but...haven't you talked to Harry since you've been back?”
“I...of course I have,” he said. What did that have to do with anything?
“He hasn't told you what happened, then?” She was looking at him with eyes full of concern, and it was making him uncomfortable.
“What happened?” he asked, deflecting his discomfort with anger. Apparently Harry had been avoiding him these past weeks for a reason.
“That's...I can't tell you,” she replied, cutting him off before he could ask another question. “Confidentiality agreements mean I couldn't, even if I wanted to, she clarified. “You need to talk to Harry.”
“I've been trying, he's been giving me the run around. What happened?” Draco asked again.
“Draco, I can't tell you, all I can say is that you need to talk to Harry.”
“How am I supposed to talk to him when he won't talk to me?” Draco threw up his hands in defeat.
“Make him talk,” Katie said, squeezing his hand. “You've always known how to push his buttons. Don't forget that.” She smiled at him and then went back to her office, leaving him in the hall, confused, with a knot of worry growing in his belly.
*
Harry jolted awake, wondering what had shocked him out of his restless slumber, until it came again. Someone was pounding on his door, and from the sound of it, they weren't sparing the paint.
Harry took a deep breath before heaving himself off the couch and shuffling toward the door. “Keep your pants on,” Harry mumbled as he unlatched the door.
It occurred to him right as the door swung open, that he was trying to avoid Draco, and who else would be pounding his door at this time of day? Sure enough, it was Draco.
“Let me in, Potter, we have to talk,” Draco demanded, pushing past Harry and on into the sitting room, where he began to pace.
“Draco, I...didn't expect to see you here,” Harry said weakly.
“I”m sure you didn't think you could fend me off forever,” Draco snapped, turning to glare at Harry. “What is going on here, Harry?”
“Nothing. I just...haven't been feeling up to company, you know how it is,” Harry looked away, fidgeting with his clothes, a nervous habit Draco had learned to be amused by, and never failed to use it to poke fun at Harry.
“Bullshit!” Draco spat, shocking Harry with his uncharacteristic language. “I went to St. Mungo's and talked to Katie,” he challenged.
Harry froze. “Why did you do that?”
“I thought we had an appointment!” Draco crossed his arms, his glare hardening. “Where is Hermione, by the way?”
“She, uh...she...” Harry stammered, but Draco cut him off.
“Oh, give it up Harry, I know you cancelled the appointment. Katie wouldn't tell me why, and I want to know!” Draco yelled. Harry flinched. He should have told Draco the truth, before it came to this.
“I deserve to know,” Draco continued. “Now tell me what is wrong!”
“Okay...okay,” Harry said, sitting down on the couch and holding his head in his hands. “Just, just let me think, I...”
“Harry, I just need to know what's going on. Please,” Draco said, his tone much softer.
“I...okay,” Harry hesitated, looking up at Draco, his face suddenly showing the weight of the last few weeks. “I lost the baby.”
Draco just stared at him. The silence lengthened, growing deeper and more tense, but he said nothing. Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco had heard him.
“Draco?” he asked carefully, clenching the couch cushions until his knuckles turned white.
Draco shook his head, finally meeting Harry's eyes again. “Why didn't you tell me?” he asked quietly. The cold tone of his voice drove a shiver up Harry's back.
“I...I couldn't,” Harry replied. “Every time I tried...and you were so happy, and, I...” he trailed off, silence settling again.
“When?”
“When you were in France,” Harry told him, bracing for the inevitable reaction. And finally, it came.
“When I was...I don't fucking believe you!” Draco yelled, his arms flung out in emphasis. “How could you keep this from me? It was my baby too!”
“It was a boy,” Harry said, unbidden.
“Oh, now you find out the sex! Just what is wrong with you?” Draco yelled.
Harry snapped. The weeks of grief and loneliness were overwhelming him, Draco's anger was just the spark needed to light the fire.
“There's nothing wrong with me!” he bellowed back. “I just wanted you out of my life already, but you are clearly too dense to take a hint!” Harry unleashed the first thing he could think of and aimed it right at Draco.
“Take a hint? You're just too stubborn to let anyone help you with anything. You think you can do it all on your own! But you can't, you dim-witted, sorry excuse for a Gryffindor! You can't!” Draco bellowed back, stalking across the room to where Harry was sitting. Harry leapt up and turned away, heading to the other side of the room.
“Maybe I just didn't want the help of a Slytherin prat like you! All you ever think about is yourself!”
“I'm thinking about my baby!” Draco chased Harry across the room. “Stop running away, you coward!”
“I'm not a coward!” Harry spun around, facing Draco with clenched fists. The anger and adrenalin was coursing through him, making him feel alive for the first time in weeks. “Though you'd know about cowards, wouldn't you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco asked, his silver eyes flashing ice into the green flames in Harry's.
“That you're a stuck up, egotistical, slimy coward, that's what it means!” Harry snapped, not standing down as Draco stalked closer.
“You know what? I'm not even going respond to that,” Draco said, shaking his head and sneering at Harry.
“What's wrong? Scared, Malfoy?” Harry taunted. Draco growled, stalking even closer.
“This whole plan was a joke! I should never have listened to Astoria.”
“You expect me to believe that you're under orders from the little wife?” Harry scoffed.
“Of course it was, you didn't honestly think that I would spend time with you of my own accord? I never wanted you anyway, and I certainly didn't want your Potter spawn!”
Harry jerked as if Draco had slapped him. In a way, he had. The hot ball of hurt that had formed when he'd lost the baby and had manifested again when Draco began interrogating him burst into flame with a rush.
“Well good!” he all but screamed at Draco, desperate to hurt him as much as he had hurt Harry. “I'm glad I lost it! The last thing this world needs is another Malfoy!”
Before he could blink, his back was against the wall, his hands pinned above his head. Draco's breath was hot on his face, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“Take it back!” he demanded, slamming Harry's wrists into the wall again. “Take it back!”
“No!” Harry screamed back, struggling against Draco hold. Despite his lean, almost thin looking frame, Draco was actually very strong, and Harry couldn't get any purchase to squirm himself free.
“You stubborn, arrogant arsehole!” Draco hissed.
“Better than than a cruel, petty, pathetic coward!” Harry shot back. Draco growled then lurched forward and the next thing Harry knew, there was a pair of hard, hot lips against his own, sucking and biting. It was hard and violent, full of anger, but it was still a kiss, and Harry couldn't stop himself from answering it with bites of his own.
A moment later, Draco pulled back and stared at Harry, his eyes full of anger and confusion but most of all, lust. They were both frozen. Harry was trapped, angry and confused, but wanting nothing more than for Draco to kiss him again and make it all better.
Draco did. He licked his lips, glancing down at Harry's before leaning in and kissing him again. But this time, the kiss was softer, with more lip and less teeth. Less pressure and more tongue, and Harry let out a groan of need. Or was it Draco? He didn't know...all he knew was the heat of Draco's mouth as his tongue pushed it's way inside, the hard pressure of Draco's body against his. It all focused down, into Harry's cock, which had hardened the instant he'd felt Draco's pressing into it.
Suddenly, Draco pulled back, letting go and leaving Harry against the wall, panting and confused. The space where Draco's body had been was cold, empty. Harry hated it, he wanted Draco back against him, lips, body, all of him.
He opened his eyes, disappointed to see Draco a few feet away, his eyes flicking back to Harry and then away, his chest heaving.
“Draco,” Harry began, but he was cut off before he could get started.
“No, no...” Draco said, still panting, looking at Harry now, with wild eyes. “No, I've had enough of you, Potter,” he spat, viciously. “This was a mistake, we're done.” He stalked back to Harry, leaning close and hissing at him dangerously, “I never want to see you again.”
He turned on his heel and left the room. A moment later Harry heard the door slamming, then the smash as something hit the floor. He dropped his hands, slumping down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, where he laid his head on his knees in defeat.
December 23rd
Harry walked slowly down the road, head bent against the whipping winds. It was a snowy, stormy night, but he just couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everywhere he looked, he saw memories of Draco, in the kitchen, where they'd had many conversations, some deep, some frivolous. In the sitting room where they'd shared their coffee and chatted. The entryway brought memories of Draco crossing the threshold, coffee in his hands and a smile on his lips. Every one of those encounters had brought them closer together.
'Not that it matters now,' Harry thought cynically. He hadn't heard from Draco since he'd left Harry's house that day, despite the fact that he'd sent several owls bearing apologies. Draco had ignored every letter he'd sent, and Harry's dramatic brain imagined Draco crumpling them into balls and throwing them in the fire, only to watch until they'd burned into ash.
He pulled his coat closer, speeding up his steps a bit. The cafe was right ahead, it only took him a few moments to reach it. He pushed the door open, relieved to feel the warmth of the shop blanket him. The air was heavy with the smell of coffee and baking, which was a wonderful thing, now that he was no longer nauseous all the time.
Harry shook off the feeling of loneliness and loss that always came when he thought about his short, ill-fated pregnancy. In the three months since the confrontation with Draco, he'd tried desperately to forget that the whole thing had ever happened. But his feelings for Draco had not gone away, and the sense of loss just continued to grow.
He approached the counter, smiling at the handsome young barista, who was smiling up at him from under a too long fringe. His heart wasn't in it, though. No handsome face or fit body had moved him lately, not since Draco.
After getting his coffee, he turned to leave, but before he could he walked smack into someone's chest, spilling a little of his coffee.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” he exclaimed, looking up at the man, utterly shocked to find Draco standing in front of him with a look of apprehension frozen on his face. “Draco,” he whispered, knowing his face must be mirroring Draco's.
“Harry,” Draco said, just as quietly. Harry didn't know what to say. The last he'd seen of Draco had been his back, before the door slammed behind him. Right before that, he'd felt Draco's lips on his, his hard body pressed into Harry's and...Harry shook his head, trying to banish the memory.
“How are you?” Draco asked politely. Harry opened his mouth as if to answer, but then Draco's last words came back to him in a rush, like a punch in the stomach.
“What do you care?” he asked instead. “I thought you never wanted to see me again?”
Draco stiffened, his face becoming even more like a mask. “I'm sorry I asked. Apparently people aren't allowed to show concern for your welfare.”
“People are,” Harry said. “Not you.” Though Harry hadn't thought it possible, Draco stiffened further.
“If my concern offends you,” Draco said heatedly. “Feel free to leave.”
Harry scowled at him. “I'm on my way,” he snarled back.
“Thank Merlin for that,” Draco muttered, but Harry heard him.
“Fuck off, Malfoy!” he said.
“I thought you were the one fucking off, Potter!” Draco replied heatedly. Harry opened his mouth but decided he was better off leaving it there. He gave Draco his best glare and then twisted around him and dashed out of the store.
Once he was out of the store, Harry breathed a rather large sigh of relief. He had gone to the shop hoping that a latte would be as good as he'd remembered, but the taste was soured by his argument with Draco. He tossed the cup into a nearby bin and tried to brush the encounter off, muttering to himself, 'hopefully that will never happen again.'
January 4th
The next time it happened, it was Draco who walked into Harry, on his way out of the shop.
“Watch were you're going, Potter,” he snapped automatically, the habit of years taking over, now that they weren't friendly anymore. Despite the fact that Draco wished, on occasion really, not often, that they were.
Harry looked good, Draco had to admit. Better now than when he was sick all the time. Draco wished he could ignore it...thinking about why Harry had been sick and how it all ended definitely detracted from the pleasure.
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Malfoy,” Harry snapped back, intentionally banging his shoulder into Draco's.
“Witty as ever, Potter,” Draco said, but his heart wasn't in it. He had been utterly furious at Harry at first, and while it had taken a long time for that feeling to lessen. Their last encounter had helped it along tremendously. Just being that close to Harry again was confusing...and addictive. He started to walk away, but was stopped by Harry's voice.
“Why?”
“Why what?” Draco asked.
“Why are you coming here? Isn't this coffee shop a little far from your place?” Harry asked, his tone warmer but still frosty.
“Yes but I...became accustomed to coming here,” Draco answered honestly. “Besides, I'm a wizard, or have you forgotten? I can go anywhere in an instant.”
“I haven't forgotten,” Harry said, his voice hardening again. “It's pretty obvious, after you got me pregnant.”
Draco could almost feel the dark cloud that had suddenly appeared above them. “Don't blame me for that, you...” Draco stopped, lifting his nose as he smelling something rank and sneering at Harry.
“No, I'm not going into that again. It's over, and I think we're both relieved, so let's just leave it there,” he said and turned once more to walk away.
“That would work fine, if you'd just stop coming here!” Harry yelled at him, but Draco stiffened his shoulders and kept going. If he didn't, he'd either blow his temper or beg Harry if they could be friends again. And that was something he was not going to do.
January 19th
Harry's eyes darted up and down the road, wide and alert for a sight of blonde hair and an upturned nose. He'd been coming here a few times a week, hoping that they'd bump in to each other again. He didn't know what he'd do if they did, probably just yell insults at each other again.
He wished he could do otherwise. For a short time he'd been...if not friends, at least friendly with Draco. But no more. Harry knew what he'd done was wrong, but he certainly didn't think it deserved this censure. On the other hand, they hadn't been friends before, and their only connection had been the baby. Now that it was gone, they had nothing but the remnants of an intense rivalry. An an intense kiss. How he wished he could forget the kiss. Harry sighed. He couldn't keep doing this to himself, he should find another coffee shop.
After ordering a mocha, which was Draco 's favorite, he sat down in a cushy armchair sitting beside a small table. He glared into his cup and out the window in turns, wondering why he was sitting there with, holding a ceramic mug dripping whipped cream down it's side, instead of a neat, hot styrofoam cup while retreating to his home.
He stopped wondering when the door was thrust open and an imperious looking Draco Malfoy walked in. He watched avidly as Draco ordered his drink, waiting to be noticed, wondering if he would be.
He needn't have worried. As Draco waited for his coffee, his shoulders stiffened and he turned slightly, sending a glance in Harry's direction. He avoided looking while he waited, fidgeting with the lid he was holding.
Harry could see the battle being waged in Draco's mind as he thanked the barista and secured the lid onto the cup. He looked up at the door before dropping his eyes to the cup, then back to the door. Suddenly, he shot a look at Harry, who met narrowed grey eyes with a direct, open stare.
Draco turned back to the door, his tense, straight back signifying his mood, but he didn't get far before turning around completely, facing Harry and levelling him with a gaze that had been so much less intimidating from the corner of his eye. Draco looked like he was working himself up for a good rant, and Harry found himself relishing the possibility. At least then they would be talking. For a moment anyway, until the yelling started.
Against all odds, Draco began to walk slowly toward Harry's table, the glare slipping from his face, leaving behind an impenetrable mask, which destroyed any chance Harry may have had of reading him. He had never been able to see past the Malfoy Mask, though he assumed that was rather the point.
Draco placed his cup firmly on the table, then dropped gracefully into the chair opposite Harry's. He proceeded to look out the window, at the wall hangings and around the shop at it's customers, all without sparing a glance for Harry, who was losing patience quickly.
As Harry opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver some scathing opener, Draco spoke up.
“Hello,” he said, his voice as much of a mask as his face.
“Hi,” Harry replied. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, glancing around desperately for something to comment on, something that was not wrapped up in their past. “It's good to see you,” he said, his mouth, as usual, speaking without and discussion with his brain.
“As it is you,” Draco said stiffly, taking a sip of his drink.
“Good mocha?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his own.
“What makes you think it's a mocha?” Draco asked, and Harry chuckled. This encounter was certainly beginning better than the others had. Finally.
“An intimate knowledge of your preferences,” Harry replied, grinning widely at Draco, pleased that they weren't yelling yet.
“You know nothing of my preferences, Harry,” Draco countered, but Harry was so pleased to hear his first name cross Draco's lips, he didn't pay attention to where this line of discussion might take them.
“Oh, I think I know better than most,” Harry said with a leer. Draco's head snapped up, he looked Harry in the eye for the first time since he'd sat down.
“You don't know anything about me, Potter,” Draco snarled, tearing his gaze from Harry's and looking out the window. Harry's smile drooped, the easy banter dissipating as fast as it had appeared.
“I thought I did,” Harry said softly, smiling weakly when Draco's gaze turned to him again.
Draco didn't say anything for a long time, or about five seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Harry.
“It's not that simple,” he said, looking away and taking another sip.
“Nothing between us ever is,” Harry said. “But I think it's worth the confusion. For a little while, I thought you did too.”
Draco swallowed heavily, his adam's apple bobbing and snagging Harry's gaze. He wanted to kiss down that neck, but he'd never had the chance, maybe he never would now. He swallowed in response.
“I have to go,” Draco said abruptly, standing up.
“I'm sorry,” Harry blurted out before he could leave. Draco stopped, his back to Harry, his head hanging, seemingly too heavy for his neck.
“So am I,” he said simply, before taking his drink and striding from the shop.
Harry didn't know what to think. On one hand, they hadn't slung insults, hexes or fists at each other, but they hadn't really talked either. Nothing had been resolved, but at least it seemed a possibility now.
Harry tossed back half his drink and sat, looking out the window once more, though in a much more optimistic mood.
January 28th
Draco paced up and down the sidewalk, feeling as nervous and wired as he'd ever been, as far as he could remember. On the other hand, it wasn't often he sat in a far too cushy chair in some stuffy coffee shop for hours, waiting for someone who clearly hadn't intended to show. Not that day, anyway.
It didn't help that he'd downed four mochas while he'd been waiting. Perhaps that was what had prompted him to walk, ever more agitatedly, to Harry's house. Or the adjacent block, anyway. He'd yet to gather up the courage, or gluttony for punishment as the case may be, to continue down the road to knock on Harry's door.
Would Harry even let him in if he did? Would he slam the door in Draco's face, or gesture him inside? Draco was finally able to admit that he had perhaps over reacted to Harry's deception. After all, Harry had feared his reaction, and he'd made it obvious that Harry was right to fear it. They way he'd lost his mind, the things he had said. Draco ran a nervous hand through his hair, grateful once again for the charm which kept it flawlessly in place. It was something he'd have to teach Harry, since Harry's bad habit had rubbed off on him so thoroughly.
With one long, deep breath, Draco turned and headed straight for Harry's door, ignoring the bustle of the street. He couldn't afford to get distracted now, not now when he was so close.
Before he knew it, he was knocking sharply on Harry's door, hoping that he was home, and in a good mood. The door soon opened, revealing a rumpled and shocked Harry Potter, who looked, to Draco's recalcitrant heart, like heaven.
*
“Draco,” Harry said, gripping the door knob so hard his knuckles were white. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe I owe you an apology,” Draco said, his face once more in that mysterious Malfoy mask, though his eyes were soft, even hopeful.
“No, it was my fault, uh,” Harry stammered. “I'm the one who should be apolo...” Draco interrupted him.
“Given my reaction, I'd say your fears were justified,” Draco said, shifting from one foot to the other. Harry could do nothing but stare at him in shock.
“May I come in?” Draco asked politely. Harry waved him in, stumbling in his haste to give Draco some room. He fumbled with the latch as he closed the door, the shock having faded into nervousness.
“Would you like some...tea?” Harry asked as he followed Draco to the sitting room.
“No, I've...I'm fine, thanks,” Draco replied, circling the room as if to reorient himself in the space. Harry stood at the door and watched him, stomach a mass of nerves.
“Okay,” Harry said.
“Do you,” Draco began, pulling out and reorganizing a few of Harry's books. “I was hoping I'd get to see you.”
“You...oh,” Harry said as Draco finished shelving the books and moved on to straightening a nearby stack of Quidditch Monthlys. Harry closed his eyes for a moment...Draco actions were far too close to what Harry had been wishing for, since before they had lost the baby. That comfortable intimacy they'd been developing, that was all whisked away because of one foolish decision. “You were at the coffee shop?”
“Yes,” Draco said, now perching himself on the edge of the sofa, looking at Harry and quirking a brow at him. Harry pushed off the door frame and joined Draco on the sofa, perched just as precariously.
“Do you think we...”
“Would it be...”
“Oh, uh...” Harry stuttered. “You. Uh, why don't you go first?”
“Alright,” Draco said, shifting even further to the edge of the cushion. “Would it be okay...can we maybe start over?”
Harry's eyes widened. “I guess, I...sure,” he bit out, too floored to be more eloquent. Draco must have read his mind. Was he thinking the same as Harry was?
“Really? Harry asked, even though he wasn't quite sure what he was asking.
“If you want to,” Draco said simply.
“I, uh...I'd like that,” Harry said, his grin wide and bright once more. To his surprise, Draco smiled back.
“Eloquent as ever, Harry.” Draco's smile had morphed into a smirk. A rather sexy smirk, the sight of which made Harry's pulse race.
Suddenly they seemed very close, and Draco was leaning even closer, one hand braced on the cushion behind Harry's arse.
“Are you gonna-” Harry began, but Draco cut him off with a kiss. After sucking on Harry's bottom lip for an blessed eternity, he pulled back.
“I think we're better off without words, don't you?” Draco drawled, leaning in for another kiss, one that lasted a lot longer, sweet and wet and filled with promise.
Harry tasted some of that promise when Draco's tongue lapped at his lower lip. Harry opened against the pressure, sending his own tongue searching in response. The kiss turned passionate in an instant, soon Draco's hand crept up to cup Harry's neck, while the other slipped up Harry's back and into his hair. Harry's arms came up as well, gaining a firm grip on Draco's strong shoulders, allowing Draco to lay him back on the couch with ease.
Harry slid into a whole new level of sensation, a world populated only by Draco, his smell, his voice, his hand grazing over Harry's skin, occasionally brushing his erection teasingly. Their shirts came off while Draco knelt over Harry, leaning down to kiss him, licking a path down his chest as soon as their shirts were free.
Next their belts were unbuckled and Harry felt Draco's strong hand gripping his cock surely and manipulating his foreskin, removing what had remained of Harry's wits and with it his ability to unfasten Draco's trousers.
Instead of letting go of Harry's cock to finish the job, Draco pressed their groins together. The sudden friction of Draco's clothed erection against his bare one was almost enough to make Harry come.
Not quite enough, however, and the spell was broken the next second by the tapping of a sharp beak on Harry's sitting room window.
“Owl post now?” Harry groaned, thumping his head on the arm of the sofa.
“That's Athena!” Draco shouted, untangling himself from Harry's grasping arms and stumbling to the window.
“Draco, can't we just leave it for now? Just for a few minutes?” Harry asked in a plaintive tone.
“Harry, you don't understand,” Draco replied, fumbling the latch in his haste. “Astoria was only to send Athena when it's time!” He let the owl in, quickly liberated the scroll and read it ravenously.
“Time?” Harry asked, panting heavily.
“Time!” Draco exclaimed, waving his arms frantically. “Time for Astoria to have the baby.”
What? Is it...” Harry trailed off, amazed at how quickly the months had passed by, since there was no reason to count them anymore. It was nearly Valentine's Day, a day he had once thought would herald the arrival of his child. Their child.
That child was gone, but the one created by Draco and Astoria wasn't. And apparently, it was ready for an early entrance.
“I've got to go, I'm having a baby!” Draco's eyes were wide and frantic.
“More like Astoria's having a baby and you're having a seizure,” Harry said, watching Draco searching for his shirt like a noseless Niffler snuffing for gold. He plucked it from the floor where it had fallen and tossed it at Draco, then pulled up his jeans.
“How, uh...how are you and Astoria doing, anyway?” Harry asked, attempting, and failing, to be casual.
“Right, I was going to tell you,” Draco said, fastening his trousers over well fitted briefs that Harry wanted desperately to see. A pang of disappointment spread through his chest. Draco put his shirt on next, and the feeling spread.
“We've decided to claim a formal separation,” Draco was saying, snapping Harry's head back to reality. He was tucking in his shirt, but Harry was sufficiently distracted.
“What...what does that mean?” Harry asked, brow furrowed now for a brand new reason.
“It means, now that we're about to meet the heir,” Draco said, and Harry wondered if he was aware that his voice turned extra snooty while saying that. Unlikely. “We can both see other people, informally of course,” Draco continued. “We won't have to hide away though, and one day we'll be ready to take the next step.”
“But what does that mean?” Harry asked again, stopping Draco in his tracks. He staring blankly at Harry, shaking his head. “For us,” Harry said quietly.
“It means, I'd like to see you again. On purpose,” Draco replied, his face open for the first time in Harry's memory. “With no other reason except that I want to.”
“That's...yeah,” Harry said, the ache in his chest blossoming into something else entirely. “I want to see you too.”
“Alright then,” Draco said, pulling on socks and shoes quickly. “Do you want to come?”
“Time's past for that, I think,” Harry said with a snort.
“That's not what I...” Draco trailed off, staring at Harry in utter amazement. It quickly morphed to amusement though, and Draco threw back his head and laughed.
“You never cease to surprise me, Harry,” Draco said, drawing close enough to pull Harry into his arms. “But I was asking if you want to come home with me. To meet the baby,” he added.
“I don't want to be in the way,” Harry said, terrified and excited by the idea.
“Astoria would love to see you,” Draco said, kissing Draco softly. “This was mostly her idea, you know.”
“This? What was her idea?” Harry leaned into Draco fully, laying his head on Draco's shoulder. He breathed in deeply. Draco smelled like happiness.
“She has been telling me for months that I should come grovel at your feet.”
“Oh.”
“She was right, I should have done this months ago. I don't know why I held onto the anger as long as I did.” Draco smiled gently at Harry, brushing back a bunch of messy hair.
“I'm sorry,” Harry said quietly.
Draco leaned in and kissed him again. “I'm sorry too. Now come be with us when our baby is born. We'd resigned ourselves to parenting with you. You wouldn't want to ruin all our plans, would you?”
“No, we wouldn't want that,” Harry drawled in an imitation of Draco. He kissed Draco, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and giving himself up to the kiss.
Draco broke them apart far too quickly for Harry's pleasure, but there were other, more important things they had to tend to.
“Let's save this for later, shall we?” Draco said, smiling at Harry in such a natural, open way that Harry's heart clenched in joy. “It's time we had a baby.”
August 16th
Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his insides twisted into excruciating knots. He doubled over as another wave of agony ripped through his insides. He gasped for air when they passed, panting and clenching the sheets. He was still aching when another wave hit, taking his breath again. When that one passed, he noticed that his abdomen was distended and tender to the touch. He was in definite trouble.
His first instinct was to floo Draco, but that would be a waste of time. Draco and Astoria had gone to France, to spend a few weeks with Narcissa. She thought some time on the beach would be beneficial, and Astoria had agreed. Draco had been less agreeable, but in the end, he had agreed to go.
Another wave of pain ripped through him before he was able to get out of bed, dragging himself across the floor in order to floo St. Mungo's. Once he had gotten through, everything seemed to speed up. An orderly and a healer came through, diagnosed him and apparated him to a room that was clearly in the hospital.
He found himself in the midst of a flurry of activity, spells lit the space with various colours and beeping noises. A female healer gave him a bright orange potion, which he gagged down before slumping over in exhaustion. He blinked a few times at the healer who had given him the potion, and then everything went black.
August 18th
Harry sat on the edge of his hospital bed, waiting for Katie to come back with Healer Shanks, to discharge him. He was fine now, the pain was gone and despite still being tired, he wasn't feeling nauseous at all.
Well, that was to be expected, now that he wasn't pregnant anymore.
He sucked in a shuddering breath, blinking back tears. Katie assured him that his emotions would be erratic for a few days, until all the hormones had left his system. He hated feeling so unstable, so alone. With Ron and Hermione gone and Draco not due back for more than a week, he felt adrift.
He had underestimated how attached he had become to his baby. Losing it had broken his heart, turning his emotions inside out. And now he was faced with not only the loss of the child, but of Draco.
They had become close, or so Harry had thought. They had potential. Maybe, just maybe they could have become something more. But now, with nothing to connect them, he had lost any hope that he had been stubbornly denying. It was useless to deny it now. He wanted Draco. Passionately. Oh, it had always been passionate between them, so it wasn't a big surprise that, now that they had moved past their animosity, that passion had slipped from hate into...something else. Something Harry wasn't ready to admit to just yet.
He didn't know what to do now. And how was he going to tell Draco? His thoughts were interrupted but the entrance of Katie and Healer Shanks. He would deal with his dilemma later.
August 28th
Draco ordered the coffees, handing over more than enough cash and waving away the change. He gave the barista a wide grin, unable to contain it. Against all odds, he had missed Harry. A lot. He was eagerly looking forward to seeing him again.
Astoria had continued to needle him about what she had labelled his 'crush' on Harry. Draco had to admit she had a point, but 'crush' was more than a bit of an understatement by this point. He didn't want to put a label on it, more out of self protection than anything else. And he'd certainly never admit it to Astoria. She was like a niffler after a galleon, never letting up.
He smiled again at the barista as he collected his coffee, chuckling at her resulting blush. 'Ahh,' he thought. 'If only she knew.' He left the coffee shop with a spring in his step, eager to get to Harry's house as soon as possible.
It didn't take long until he was knocking on Harry's door, tray in hand. Harry opened it, waving Draco inside and closing the door behind him.
“Hello, Harry!” Draco exclaimed, beaming at Harry. “Have you missed me?”
“Err...yes,” Harry said quietly. “I'm glad you're back. I liked the postcard.”
“Oh, you just missed the coffee,” Draco placed the tray on the table in Harry's sitting room, pulling out mochas for both of them. He handed one to Harry, who was looking pale and nervous, hovering beside the couch. "Quite a quaint Muggle thing, the postcard. I thought you'd like it."
"I did," Harry said, smiling weakly.
“Are you going to sit down?” Draco asked.
“I, uh...actually, I'm not feeling very good,” Harry said, fidgeting with the lid of his cup.
“Are you alright?” Draco put his cup down, crossing to Harry and pulling him to a seat on the couch. “Should I call Katie?”
“No, it's okay, I've already seen her,” Harry said, putting his cup down as well. “Draco, I...” He stopped, looking away from Draco.
“Harry, what is it?” he asked, sitting beside him, alarmed. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, but ended up saying nothing.
“I, it's...it's nothing, really.” Harry gave him a weak smile. “Do you mind if I skip lunch today? I think I'll go lie down.”
“Okay, sure,” Draco said. “I'll just stop by tomorrow, shall I?”
Harry's eyes shifted a bit, not meeting Draco's. “Actually, I'm not feeling the coffee so much anymore. I think I'd like to skip it.”
Draco was taken aback. He'd thought that Harry enjoyed their time together as much as he had.
“Just lunch, then?” Draco tried again, but Harry was still avoiding his eyes.
“I, uh...I'll owl you,” Harry said, standing up suddenly. “I need to go lie down now. I'll be in touch.”
“Okay,” Draco said, his brow furrowed in confusion. “If you need anything...” he trailed off.
“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling weakly. He turned and left the room, leaving Draco to see himself out. If he didn't know better, he'd think he'd been given the brush off. He glanced up the stairs toward Harry's room before leaving, his heart as heavy as the silence in the room behind him.
September 14th
“Draco, I'm sure it's fine,” Harry insisted, kneeling in front of the fire, where Draco's head floated, as if separate from his body.
“But I want to come,” Draco insisted just as fervently. “I've missed two appointments so far, and I don't want to miss another one.”
“But...Hermione is here and it would be better if I kept you separated, don't you think?”
“Isn't she in France with Weaselby?” Draco asked.
“Don't call him that,” Harry said, scowling. “And yes, she was, but she came home for the weekend...”
“It's not the weekend,” Draco pointed out.
“It was,” Harry said.
“I don't care. I can behave,” Draco assured him. Harry was starting to feel a bit desperate. Putting Draco off was getting harder and harder, but Harry still didn't have a clue how to tell him. Most of the time he could barely convince himself of the truth.
“That's not the point,” Harry said, sighing. “Just...I'll owl you when we're done. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow.”
“You never owl me!” Draco yelled. “You always say you will. We never do lunch anymore, and you never owl. You've been brushing me off since I got back from France.”
“Draco, Hermione's here, I've got to go,” Harry lied, desperate to end the conversation. He wished he could have avoided it altogether, but Draco seemed unable to take no for an answer.
“We're not done talking about this,” Draco said. “Harry!” he yelled, but Harry was already closing the floo.
“I'll owl you,” he said as he closed the floo all the way, slumping back on his couch. This was getting out of hand. He was still heartbroken. He kept looking at the book that Draco and Astoria had given him for his birthday, crushed that he'd never get to use it. He'd never have a child now, he knew. This had been his one chance, and it was gone.
How could he tell Draco? He knew that he should, and soon. It was horrible of him to have prevaricated this long. He had tried, the few times that he and Draco had been together since it happened, but he hadn't been able to actually get it out.
He let out a sigh, wondering now how he was going to be able to put Draco off that afternoon. Draco was sure to owl or floo, if he didn't just show up. He'd have to deal with it, then. No more evading or avoiding. He was a Gryffindor, dammit. He'd defeated the most powerful Dark Lord ever when he was seventeen years old. He could tell Draco Malfoy he'd lost the baby. He could, he...buried his head in his hands. When had he turned into such a coward?
*
Draco fell backwards onto the plush rug in front of the fireplace. Harry's abrupt closure of his floo had pushed Draco out rather violently. Fortunately, the rug was layered with cushioning charms.
This was getting ridiculous. Harry was avoiding him, there was no other explanation.
“That's it,” he said, getting up off the floor. “I'm going to that appointment, whether he wants me there not.”
*
Draco strode purposefully down the corridor toward Katie's office. He was right on time, so he was hoping to slip in without much fuss...hoping that Harry wouldn't make a fuss, that is. His reaction to Draco's attempts to spend time with him had been...evasive, at best, his excuses flimsy. Enough was enough.
Draco rapped sharply on the door and then opened it, putting on his best determined yet friendly face, only to have it slip away as he entered the room.
“Malfoy, what are you doing here?” Katie stood from behind her desk, he face filled with annoyance similar to what Draco was feeling. There were a man and a woman sitting in front of the desk, but they were decidedly not Harry and Hermione Granger. Weasley. Whatever.
“I'm here for our appointment, why else?” Draco explained, feeling rather off balance and defensive. “I must have got the time wrong, I'll just wait out here.”
“Malfoy, hold on,” Katie said, excusing herself to the couple in the office. “We need to talk.” She lead him down the hall to a quiet alcove, her expression softening. “Why do you think we have an appointment?” she asked quietly.
Draco looked at her as if she had sprouted horns. “Isn't the point of setting appointments in advance so that you know when you have to be somewhere? I'm sorry I'm early, I was sure i had the time right.”
Katie closed her eyes, as if praying for patience. “Well yes, we did have an appointment, but...haven't you talked to Harry since you've been back?”
“I...of course I have,” he said. What did that have to do with anything?
“He hasn't told you what happened, then?” She was looking at him with eyes full of concern, and it was making him uncomfortable.
“What happened?” he asked, deflecting his discomfort with anger. Apparently Harry had been avoiding him these past weeks for a reason.
“That's...I can't tell you,” she replied, cutting him off before he could ask another question. “Confidentiality agreements mean I couldn't, even if I wanted to, she clarified. “You need to talk to Harry.”
“I've been trying, he's been giving me the run around. What happened?” Draco asked again.
“Draco, I can't tell you, all I can say is that you need to talk to Harry.”
“How am I supposed to talk to him when he won't talk to me?” Draco threw up his hands in defeat.
“Make him talk,” Katie said, squeezing his hand. “You've always known how to push his buttons. Don't forget that.” She smiled at him and then went back to her office, leaving him in the hall, confused, with a knot of worry growing in his belly.
*
Harry jolted awake, wondering what had shocked him out of his restless slumber, until it came again. Someone was pounding on his door, and from the sound of it, they weren't sparing the paint.
Harry took a deep breath before heaving himself off the couch and shuffling toward the door. “Keep your pants on,” Harry mumbled as he unlatched the door.
It occurred to him right as the door swung open, that he was trying to avoid Draco, and who else would be pounding his door at this time of day? Sure enough, it was Draco.
“Let me in, Potter, we have to talk,” Draco demanded, pushing past Harry and on into the sitting room, where he began to pace.
“Draco, I...didn't expect to see you here,” Harry said weakly.
“I”m sure you didn't think you could fend me off forever,” Draco snapped, turning to glare at Harry. “What is going on here, Harry?”
“Nothing. I just...haven't been feeling up to company, you know how it is,” Harry looked away, fidgeting with his clothes, a nervous habit Draco had learned to be amused by, and never failed to use it to poke fun at Harry.
“Bullshit!” Draco spat, shocking Harry with his uncharacteristic language. “I went to St. Mungo's and talked to Katie,” he challenged.
Harry froze. “Why did you do that?”
“I thought we had an appointment!” Draco crossed his arms, his glare hardening. “Where is Hermione, by the way?”
“She, uh...she...” Harry stammered, but Draco cut him off.
“Oh, give it up Harry, I know you cancelled the appointment. Katie wouldn't tell me why, and I want to know!” Draco yelled. Harry flinched. He should have told Draco the truth, before it came to this.
“I deserve to know,” Draco continued. “Now tell me what is wrong!”
“Okay...okay,” Harry said, sitting down on the couch and holding his head in his hands. “Just, just let me think, I...”
“Harry, I just need to know what's going on. Please,” Draco said, his tone much softer.
“I...okay,” Harry hesitated, looking up at Draco, his face suddenly showing the weight of the last few weeks. “I lost the baby.”
Draco just stared at him. The silence lengthened, growing deeper and more tense, but he said nothing. Harry was beginning to wonder if Draco had heard him.
“Draco?” he asked carefully, clenching the couch cushions until his knuckles turned white.
Draco shook his head, finally meeting Harry's eyes again. “Why didn't you tell me?” he asked quietly. The cold tone of his voice drove a shiver up Harry's back.
“I...I couldn't,” Harry replied. “Every time I tried...and you were so happy, and, I...” he trailed off, silence settling again.
“When?”
“When you were in France,” Harry told him, bracing for the inevitable reaction. And finally, it came.
“When I was...I don't fucking believe you!” Draco yelled, his arms flung out in emphasis. “How could you keep this from me? It was my baby too!”
“It was a boy,” Harry said, unbidden.
“Oh, now you find out the sex! Just what is wrong with you?” Draco yelled.
Harry snapped. The weeks of grief and loneliness were overwhelming him, Draco's anger was just the spark needed to light the fire.
“There's nothing wrong with me!” he bellowed back. “I just wanted you out of my life already, but you are clearly too dense to take a hint!” Harry unleashed the first thing he could think of and aimed it right at Draco.
“Take a hint? You're just too stubborn to let anyone help you with anything. You think you can do it all on your own! But you can't, you dim-witted, sorry excuse for a Gryffindor! You can't!” Draco bellowed back, stalking across the room to where Harry was sitting. Harry leapt up and turned away, heading to the other side of the room.
“Maybe I just didn't want the help of a Slytherin prat like you! All you ever think about is yourself!”
“I'm thinking about my baby!” Draco chased Harry across the room. “Stop running away, you coward!”
“I'm not a coward!” Harry spun around, facing Draco with clenched fists. The anger and adrenalin was coursing through him, making him feel alive for the first time in weeks. “Though you'd know about cowards, wouldn't you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco asked, his silver eyes flashing ice into the green flames in Harry's.
“That you're a stuck up, egotistical, slimy coward, that's what it means!” Harry snapped, not standing down as Draco stalked closer.
“You know what? I'm not even going respond to that,” Draco said, shaking his head and sneering at Harry.
“What's wrong? Scared, Malfoy?” Harry taunted. Draco growled, stalking even closer.
“This whole plan was a joke! I should never have listened to Astoria.”
“You expect me to believe that you're under orders from the little wife?” Harry scoffed.
“Of course it was, you didn't honestly think that I would spend time with you of my own accord? I never wanted you anyway, and I certainly didn't want your Potter spawn!”
Harry jerked as if Draco had slapped him. In a way, he had. The hot ball of hurt that had formed when he'd lost the baby and had manifested again when Draco began interrogating him burst into flame with a rush.
“Well good!” he all but screamed at Draco, desperate to hurt him as much as he had hurt Harry. “I'm glad I lost it! The last thing this world needs is another Malfoy!”
Before he could blink, his back was against the wall, his hands pinned above his head. Draco's breath was hot on his face, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“Take it back!” he demanded, slamming Harry's wrists into the wall again. “Take it back!”
“No!” Harry screamed back, struggling against Draco hold. Despite his lean, almost thin looking frame, Draco was actually very strong, and Harry couldn't get any purchase to squirm himself free.
“You stubborn, arrogant arsehole!” Draco hissed.
“Better than than a cruel, petty, pathetic coward!” Harry shot back. Draco growled then lurched forward and the next thing Harry knew, there was a pair of hard, hot lips against his own, sucking and biting. It was hard and violent, full of anger, but it was still a kiss, and Harry couldn't stop himself from answering it with bites of his own.
A moment later, Draco pulled back and stared at Harry, his eyes full of anger and confusion but most of all, lust. They were both frozen. Harry was trapped, angry and confused, but wanting nothing more than for Draco to kiss him again and make it all better.
Draco did. He licked his lips, glancing down at Harry's before leaning in and kissing him again. But this time, the kiss was softer, with more lip and less teeth. Less pressure and more tongue, and Harry let out a groan of need. Or was it Draco? He didn't know...all he knew was the heat of Draco's mouth as his tongue pushed it's way inside, the hard pressure of Draco's body against his. It all focused down, into Harry's cock, which had hardened the instant he'd felt Draco's pressing into it.
Suddenly, Draco pulled back, letting go and leaving Harry against the wall, panting and confused. The space where Draco's body had been was cold, empty. Harry hated it, he wanted Draco back against him, lips, body, all of him.
He opened his eyes, disappointed to see Draco a few feet away, his eyes flicking back to Harry and then away, his chest heaving.
“Draco,” Harry began, but he was cut off before he could get started.
“No, no...” Draco said, still panting, looking at Harry now, with wild eyes. “No, I've had enough of you, Potter,” he spat, viciously. “This was a mistake, we're done.” He stalked back to Harry, leaning close and hissing at him dangerously, “I never want to see you again.”
He turned on his heel and left the room. A moment later Harry heard the door slamming, then the smash as something hit the floor. He dropped his hands, slumping down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, where he laid his head on his knees in defeat.
December 23rd
Harry walked slowly down the road, head bent against the whipping winds. It was a snowy, stormy night, but he just couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everywhere he looked, he saw memories of Draco, in the kitchen, where they'd had many conversations, some deep, some frivolous. In the sitting room where they'd shared their coffee and chatted. The entryway brought memories of Draco crossing the threshold, coffee in his hands and a smile on his lips. Every one of those encounters had brought them closer together.
'Not that it matters now,' Harry thought cynically. He hadn't heard from Draco since he'd left Harry's house that day, despite the fact that he'd sent several owls bearing apologies. Draco had ignored every letter he'd sent, and Harry's dramatic brain imagined Draco crumpling them into balls and throwing them in the fire, only to watch until they'd burned into ash.
He pulled his coat closer, speeding up his steps a bit. The cafe was right ahead, it only took him a few moments to reach it. He pushed the door open, relieved to feel the warmth of the shop blanket him. The air was heavy with the smell of coffee and baking, which was a wonderful thing, now that he was no longer nauseous all the time.
Harry shook off the feeling of loneliness and loss that always came when he thought about his short, ill-fated pregnancy. In the three months since the confrontation with Draco, he'd tried desperately to forget that the whole thing had ever happened. But his feelings for Draco had not gone away, and the sense of loss just continued to grow.
He approached the counter, smiling at the handsome young barista, who was smiling up at him from under a too long fringe. His heart wasn't in it, though. No handsome face or fit body had moved him lately, not since Draco.
After getting his coffee, he turned to leave, but before he could he walked smack into someone's chest, spilling a little of his coffee.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” he exclaimed, looking up at the man, utterly shocked to find Draco standing in front of him with a look of apprehension frozen on his face. “Draco,” he whispered, knowing his face must be mirroring Draco's.
“Harry,” Draco said, just as quietly. Harry didn't know what to say. The last he'd seen of Draco had been his back, before the door slammed behind him. Right before that, he'd felt Draco's lips on his, his hard body pressed into Harry's and...Harry shook his head, trying to banish the memory.
“How are you?” Draco asked politely. Harry opened his mouth as if to answer, but then Draco's last words came back to him in a rush, like a punch in the stomach.
“What do you care?” he asked instead. “I thought you never wanted to see me again?”
Draco stiffened, his face becoming even more like a mask. “I'm sorry I asked. Apparently people aren't allowed to show concern for your welfare.”
“People are,” Harry said. “Not you.” Though Harry hadn't thought it possible, Draco stiffened further.
“If my concern offends you,” Draco said heatedly. “Feel free to leave.”
Harry scowled at him. “I'm on my way,” he snarled back.
“Thank Merlin for that,” Draco muttered, but Harry heard him.
“Fuck off, Malfoy!” he said.
“I thought you were the one fucking off, Potter!” Draco replied heatedly. Harry opened his mouth but decided he was better off leaving it there. He gave Draco his best glare and then twisted around him and dashed out of the store.
Once he was out of the store, Harry breathed a rather large sigh of relief. He had gone to the shop hoping that a latte would be as good as he'd remembered, but the taste was soured by his argument with Draco. He tossed the cup into a nearby bin and tried to brush the encounter off, muttering to himself, 'hopefully that will never happen again.'
January 4th
The next time it happened, it was Draco who walked into Harry, on his way out of the shop.
“Watch were you're going, Potter,” he snapped automatically, the habit of years taking over, now that they weren't friendly anymore. Despite the fact that Draco wished, on occasion really, not often, that they were.
Harry looked good, Draco had to admit. Better now than when he was sick all the time. Draco wished he could ignore it...thinking about why Harry had been sick and how it all ended definitely detracted from the pleasure.
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Malfoy,” Harry snapped back, intentionally banging his shoulder into Draco's.
“Witty as ever, Potter,” Draco said, but his heart wasn't in it. He had been utterly furious at Harry at first, and while it had taken a long time for that feeling to lessen. Their last encounter had helped it along tremendously. Just being that close to Harry again was confusing...and addictive. He started to walk away, but was stopped by Harry's voice.
“Why?”
“Why what?” Draco asked.
“Why are you coming here? Isn't this coffee shop a little far from your place?” Harry asked, his tone warmer but still frosty.
“Yes but I...became accustomed to coming here,” Draco answered honestly. “Besides, I'm a wizard, or have you forgotten? I can go anywhere in an instant.”
“I haven't forgotten,” Harry said, his voice hardening again. “It's pretty obvious, after you got me pregnant.”
Draco could almost feel the dark cloud that had suddenly appeared above them. “Don't blame me for that, you...” Draco stopped, lifting his nose as he smelling something rank and sneering at Harry.
“No, I'm not going into that again. It's over, and I think we're both relieved, so let's just leave it there,” he said and turned once more to walk away.
“That would work fine, if you'd just stop coming here!” Harry yelled at him, but Draco stiffened his shoulders and kept going. If he didn't, he'd either blow his temper or beg Harry if they could be friends again. And that was something he was not going to do.
January 19th
Harry's eyes darted up and down the road, wide and alert for a sight of blonde hair and an upturned nose. He'd been coming here a few times a week, hoping that they'd bump in to each other again. He didn't know what he'd do if they did, probably just yell insults at each other again.
He wished he could do otherwise. For a short time he'd been...if not friends, at least friendly with Draco. But no more. Harry knew what he'd done was wrong, but he certainly didn't think it deserved this censure. On the other hand, they hadn't been friends before, and their only connection had been the baby. Now that it was gone, they had nothing but the remnants of an intense rivalry. An an intense kiss. How he wished he could forget the kiss. Harry sighed. He couldn't keep doing this to himself, he should find another coffee shop.
After ordering a mocha, which was Draco 's favorite, he sat down in a cushy armchair sitting beside a small table. He glared into his cup and out the window in turns, wondering why he was sitting there with, holding a ceramic mug dripping whipped cream down it's side, instead of a neat, hot styrofoam cup while retreating to his home.
He stopped wondering when the door was thrust open and an imperious looking Draco Malfoy walked in. He watched avidly as Draco ordered his drink, waiting to be noticed, wondering if he would be.
He needn't have worried. As Draco waited for his coffee, his shoulders stiffened and he turned slightly, sending a glance in Harry's direction. He avoided looking while he waited, fidgeting with the lid he was holding.
Harry could see the battle being waged in Draco's mind as he thanked the barista and secured the lid onto the cup. He looked up at the door before dropping his eyes to the cup, then back to the door. Suddenly, he shot a look at Harry, who met narrowed grey eyes with a direct, open stare.
Draco turned back to the door, his tense, straight back signifying his mood, but he didn't get far before turning around completely, facing Harry and levelling him with a gaze that had been so much less intimidating from the corner of his eye. Draco looked like he was working himself up for a good rant, and Harry found himself relishing the possibility. At least then they would be talking. For a moment anyway, until the yelling started.
Against all odds, Draco began to walk slowly toward Harry's table, the glare slipping from his face, leaving behind an impenetrable mask, which destroyed any chance Harry may have had of reading him. He had never been able to see past the Malfoy Mask, though he assumed that was rather the point.
Draco placed his cup firmly on the table, then dropped gracefully into the chair opposite Harry's. He proceeded to look out the window, at the wall hangings and around the shop at it's customers, all without sparing a glance for Harry, who was losing patience quickly.
As Harry opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver some scathing opener, Draco spoke up.
“Hello,” he said, his voice as much of a mask as his face.
“Hi,” Harry replied. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, glancing around desperately for something to comment on, something that was not wrapped up in their past. “It's good to see you,” he said, his mouth, as usual, speaking without and discussion with his brain.
“As it is you,” Draco said stiffly, taking a sip of his drink.
“Good mocha?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his own.
“What makes you think it's a mocha?” Draco asked, and Harry chuckled. This encounter was certainly beginning better than the others had. Finally.
“An intimate knowledge of your preferences,” Harry replied, grinning widely at Draco, pleased that they weren't yelling yet.
“You know nothing of my preferences, Harry,” Draco countered, but Harry was so pleased to hear his first name cross Draco's lips, he didn't pay attention to where this line of discussion might take them.
“Oh, I think I know better than most,” Harry said with a leer. Draco's head snapped up, he looked Harry in the eye for the first time since he'd sat down.
“You don't know anything about me, Potter,” Draco snarled, tearing his gaze from Harry's and looking out the window. Harry's smile drooped, the easy banter dissipating as fast as it had appeared.
“I thought I did,” Harry said softly, smiling weakly when Draco's gaze turned to him again.
Draco didn't say anything for a long time, or about five seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Harry.
“It's not that simple,” he said, looking away and taking another sip.
“Nothing between us ever is,” Harry said. “But I think it's worth the confusion. For a little while, I thought you did too.”
Draco swallowed heavily, his adam's apple bobbing and snagging Harry's gaze. He wanted to kiss down that neck, but he'd never had the chance, maybe he never would now. He swallowed in response.
“I have to go,” Draco said abruptly, standing up.
“I'm sorry,” Harry blurted out before he could leave. Draco stopped, his back to Harry, his head hanging, seemingly too heavy for his neck.
“So am I,” he said simply, before taking his drink and striding from the shop.
Harry didn't know what to think. On one hand, they hadn't slung insults, hexes or fists at each other, but they hadn't really talked either. Nothing had been resolved, but at least it seemed a possibility now.
Harry tossed back half his drink and sat, looking out the window once more, though in a much more optimistic mood.
January 28th
Draco paced up and down the sidewalk, feeling as nervous and wired as he'd ever been, as far as he could remember. On the other hand, it wasn't often he sat in a far too cushy chair in some stuffy coffee shop for hours, waiting for someone who clearly hadn't intended to show. Not that day, anyway.
It didn't help that he'd downed four mochas while he'd been waiting. Perhaps that was what had prompted him to walk, ever more agitatedly, to Harry's house. Or the adjacent block, anyway. He'd yet to gather up the courage, or gluttony for punishment as the case may be, to continue down the road to knock on Harry's door.
Would Harry even let him in if he did? Would he slam the door in Draco's face, or gesture him inside? Draco was finally able to admit that he had perhaps over reacted to Harry's deception. After all, Harry had feared his reaction, and he'd made it obvious that Harry was right to fear it. They way he'd lost his mind, the things he had said. Draco ran a nervous hand through his hair, grateful once again for the charm which kept it flawlessly in place. It was something he'd have to teach Harry, since Harry's bad habit had rubbed off on him so thoroughly.
With one long, deep breath, Draco turned and headed straight for Harry's door, ignoring the bustle of the street. He couldn't afford to get distracted now, not now when he was so close.
Before he knew it, he was knocking sharply on Harry's door, hoping that he was home, and in a good mood. The door soon opened, revealing a rumpled and shocked Harry Potter, who looked, to Draco's recalcitrant heart, like heaven.
*
“Draco,” Harry said, gripping the door knob so hard his knuckles were white. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe I owe you an apology,” Draco said, his face once more in that mysterious Malfoy mask, though his eyes were soft, even hopeful.
“No, it was my fault, uh,” Harry stammered. “I'm the one who should be apolo...” Draco interrupted him.
“Given my reaction, I'd say your fears were justified,” Draco said, shifting from one foot to the other. Harry could do nothing but stare at him in shock.
“May I come in?” Draco asked politely. Harry waved him in, stumbling in his haste to give Draco some room. He fumbled with the latch as he closed the door, the shock having faded into nervousness.
“Would you like some...tea?” Harry asked as he followed Draco to the sitting room.
“No, I've...I'm fine, thanks,” Draco replied, circling the room as if to reorient himself in the space. Harry stood at the door and watched him, stomach a mass of nerves.
“Okay,” Harry said.
“Do you,” Draco began, pulling out and reorganizing a few of Harry's books. “I was hoping I'd get to see you.”
“You...oh,” Harry said as Draco finished shelving the books and moved on to straightening a nearby stack of Quidditch Monthlys. Harry closed his eyes for a moment...Draco actions were far too close to what Harry had been wishing for, since before they had lost the baby. That comfortable intimacy they'd been developing, that was all whisked away because of one foolish decision. “You were at the coffee shop?”
“Yes,” Draco said, now perching himself on the edge of the sofa, looking at Harry and quirking a brow at him. Harry pushed off the door frame and joined Draco on the sofa, perched just as precariously.
“Do you think we...”
“Would it be...”
“Oh, uh...” Harry stuttered. “You. Uh, why don't you go first?”
“Alright,” Draco said, shifting even further to the edge of the cushion. “Would it be okay...can we maybe start over?”
Harry's eyes widened. “I guess, I...sure,” he bit out, too floored to be more eloquent. Draco must have read his mind. Was he thinking the same as Harry was?
“Really? Harry asked, even though he wasn't quite sure what he was asking.
“If you want to,” Draco said simply.
“I, uh...I'd like that,” Harry said, his grin wide and bright once more. To his surprise, Draco smiled back.
“Eloquent as ever, Harry.” Draco's smile had morphed into a smirk. A rather sexy smirk, the sight of which made Harry's pulse race.
Suddenly they seemed very close, and Draco was leaning even closer, one hand braced on the cushion behind Harry's arse.
“Are you gonna-” Harry began, but Draco cut him off with a kiss. After sucking on Harry's bottom lip for an blessed eternity, he pulled back.
“I think we're better off without words, don't you?” Draco drawled, leaning in for another kiss, one that lasted a lot longer, sweet and wet and filled with promise.
Harry tasted some of that promise when Draco's tongue lapped at his lower lip. Harry opened against the pressure, sending his own tongue searching in response. The kiss turned passionate in an instant, soon Draco's hand crept up to cup Harry's neck, while the other slipped up Harry's back and into his hair. Harry's arms came up as well, gaining a firm grip on Draco's strong shoulders, allowing Draco to lay him back on the couch with ease.
Harry slid into a whole new level of sensation, a world populated only by Draco, his smell, his voice, his hand grazing over Harry's skin, occasionally brushing his erection teasingly. Their shirts came off while Draco knelt over Harry, leaning down to kiss him, licking a path down his chest as soon as their shirts were free.
Next their belts were unbuckled and Harry felt Draco's strong hand gripping his cock surely and manipulating his foreskin, removing what had remained of Harry's wits and with it his ability to unfasten Draco's trousers.
Instead of letting go of Harry's cock to finish the job, Draco pressed their groins together. The sudden friction of Draco's clothed erection against his bare one was almost enough to make Harry come.
Not quite enough, however, and the spell was broken the next second by the tapping of a sharp beak on Harry's sitting room window.
“Owl post now?” Harry groaned, thumping his head on the arm of the sofa.
“That's Athena!” Draco shouted, untangling himself from Harry's grasping arms and stumbling to the window.
“Draco, can't we just leave it for now? Just for a few minutes?” Harry asked in a plaintive tone.
“Harry, you don't understand,” Draco replied, fumbling the latch in his haste. “Astoria was only to send Athena when it's time!” He let the owl in, quickly liberated the scroll and read it ravenously.
“Time?” Harry asked, panting heavily.
“Time!” Draco exclaimed, waving his arms frantically. “Time for Astoria to have the baby.”
What? Is it...” Harry trailed off, amazed at how quickly the months had passed by, since there was no reason to count them anymore. It was nearly Valentine's Day, a day he had once thought would herald the arrival of his child. Their child.
That child was gone, but the one created by Draco and Astoria wasn't. And apparently, it was ready for an early entrance.
“I've got to go, I'm having a baby!” Draco's eyes were wide and frantic.
“More like Astoria's having a baby and you're having a seizure,” Harry said, watching Draco searching for his shirt like a noseless Niffler snuffing for gold. He plucked it from the floor where it had fallen and tossed it at Draco, then pulled up his jeans.
“How, uh...how are you and Astoria doing, anyway?” Harry asked, attempting, and failing, to be casual.
“Right, I was going to tell you,” Draco said, fastening his trousers over well fitted briefs that Harry wanted desperately to see. A pang of disappointment spread through his chest. Draco put his shirt on next, and the feeling spread.
“We've decided to claim a formal separation,” Draco was saying, snapping Harry's head back to reality. He was tucking in his shirt, but Harry was sufficiently distracted.
“What...what does that mean?” Harry asked, brow furrowed now for a brand new reason.
“It means, now that we're about to meet the heir,” Draco said, and Harry wondered if he was aware that his voice turned extra snooty while saying that. Unlikely. “We can both see other people, informally of course,” Draco continued. “We won't have to hide away though, and one day we'll be ready to take the next step.”
“But what does that mean?” Harry asked again, stopping Draco in his tracks. He staring blankly at Harry, shaking his head. “For us,” Harry said quietly.
“It means, I'd like to see you again. On purpose,” Draco replied, his face open for the first time in Harry's memory. “With no other reason except that I want to.”
“That's...yeah,” Harry said, the ache in his chest blossoming into something else entirely. “I want to see you too.”
“Alright then,” Draco said, pulling on socks and shoes quickly. “Do you want to come?”
“Time's past for that, I think,” Harry said with a snort.
“That's not what I...” Draco trailed off, staring at Harry in utter amazement. It quickly morphed to amusement though, and Draco threw back his head and laughed.
“You never cease to surprise me, Harry,” Draco said, drawing close enough to pull Harry into his arms. “But I was asking if you want to come home with me. To meet the baby,” he added.
“I don't want to be in the way,” Harry said, terrified and excited by the idea.
“Astoria would love to see you,” Draco said, kissing Draco softly. “This was mostly her idea, you know.”
“This? What was her idea?” Harry leaned into Draco fully, laying his head on Draco's shoulder. He breathed in deeply. Draco smelled like happiness.
“She has been telling me for months that I should come grovel at your feet.”
“Oh.”
“She was right, I should have done this months ago. I don't know why I held onto the anger as long as I did.” Draco smiled gently at Harry, brushing back a bunch of messy hair.
“I'm sorry,” Harry said quietly.
Draco leaned in and kissed him again. “I'm sorry too. Now come be with us when our baby is born. We'd resigned ourselves to parenting with you. You wouldn't want to ruin all our plans, would you?”
“No, we wouldn't want that,” Harry drawled in an imitation of Draco. He kissed Draco, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and giving himself up to the kiss.
Draco broke them apart far too quickly for Harry's pleasure, but there were other, more important things they had to tend to.
“Let's save this for later, shall we?” Draco said, smiling at Harry in such a natural, open way that Harry's heart clenched in joy. “It's time we had a baby.”