Fic: A Sonata of Seasons - Part 4
Title: A Sonata of Seasons
Author: faeriechii
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 6,480 (13,661 total)
Summary: As the seasons change, so do the circumstances of Harry and Draco's relationship. They learn that life is not a fairy tale, and sometimes love just isn't enough.
Warnings: Slight angst.
Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. The writing belongs to me
A/N: Much love and gratitude to j_folked for beta'ing my piece. This part took longer than usual to write because it was a challenge to resolve things. Enjoy, and as usual, constructive criticism is appreciated.
Previous Parts - Part 1: Winter | Part 2: Spring | Part 3: Summer
Part 4: Autumn
The only way to revive something once dead is through rebirth. With time, even the deadest things will live again.
Draco Malfoy stood outside of Malfoy Manor smoking a cigarette and watching. He watched the swarm of Aurors search his home for illegal objects. He watched as they scowled when they turned up with nothing. He watched as they Disapparated away with promises that they would return. He took another long drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. He was sure had it not been for the fag, he would've hexed the Aurors, giving himself a nice trip to Azkaban. But he was relaxed; smoking always made him so.
"Draco."
The blond tensed instantly at the familiar voice. He was afraid to turn around and face him. He wasn't sure if he was ready. Yet, he turned to coolly meet the gaze of the proclaimed Wizarding hero anyway.
"Potter," Draco greeted tonelessly, cigarette delicately held between his index and middle finger. "I had no idea we were on a first name basis. What do you want? Come to follow up on the Aurors' search of the manor?"
"No," Harry said, looking confused. "I didn't know about that. I just wanted to talk to you. Wait… they were searching the manor?"
"Isn't that what I just said?" the blond said incredulously. "Honestly, did the War make you slow? How you ever managed to destroy the Dark Lord with a mind like that is beyond me."
"I had a lot of help," Harry said wryly, before sighing and looking slightly defeated. "Look, I didn't come here to fight with you. Can we talk?"
Draco put the cigarette up to his lips and inhaled, feeling the calming effects of it. Relax, he told himself. He had suffered through the Dark Lord's curses; he could survive a chat with Harry Potter. Or so he hoped.
"And what exactly would you call what we're doing, Potter?" the blond replied, blowing out the smoke he had inhaled.
"Draco, please?" Harry pleaded desperately. He knew it would be hard, knowing how much he had hurt the blond, but he needed to explain.
Draco turned away from him and walked down the path into the gardens of the estate. There wasn't much to see that time of year. All the flowers had long past died away, and the green leaves of many trees were turning gold, red, and brown. There was a hint of death in the air: a sign of the coming winter. It was the blond's favourite season. It was true to life; things were always coming to an end and dying. It was a realist's favourite season, and he prided himself on being realistic. It was much better than being a hopeless romantic and ending up disappointed because of it. He mulled over this as his feet mercilessly crunched the dried leaves covering the path. He heard quiet footsteps behind him and knew that Harry had followed him. They continued walking down the path in silence, through thick trees and shrubberies. After several moments, Draco came across a clearing where a lake was situated. It was as still and dead as the rest of the garden. It was his favourite place.
Draco walked along the path that wound around the lake and sat on a bench made of smooth redwood. He watched with slight amusement as Harry hesitated before sitting next to him on the bench. The blond made no move to converse as he tapped ashes off the end of his cigarette before taking another drag of it.
"You shouldn't smoke," Harry said in his quiet, awkward way. "It kills."
"Since when did a guest have authority to tell his host what he should or should not be doing on the host's own property?" Draco retorted, sneering. "Besides, living kills. Should I stop doing that as well?"
"No, that's not what I mean, and you know it!" Harry sighed. "You're not making this easy for me."
"What, you thought I was going to be thrilled to see you, Potter? I'm not a member of your blindly adoring rabid fans."
"I didn't say that, but you could at least-"
"I don't owe you anything, Potter," Draco said, the tone of his voice dropping icily. He turned to face the dark-haired wizard, and his expression was as frigid as his tone. "If I recall correctly, you left me. Not the other way around, so excuse me if I don't feel like catering to your needs."
"That's… what I wanted to talk to you about," Harry said, fidgeting nervously. "Draco, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was- no, am."
"Oh, that makes everything all better! The Wizarding Hero apologises, and all is right with the world. Now we can be best mates and forget everything you've put me through," the blond said quite cheerfully with an unpleasant smile on his face. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Harry shook his head sadly.
"No, Draco. I just want you to listen so I can explain everything."
"And what makes you think you deserve to be listened to?"
"I don't," Harry said, sincerely and miserably. "But I think you deserve an explanation because of everything you went through."
"You know nothing about what I went through, Potter," Draco spat vehemently. "So don't use that as a reason for why I deserve an explanation."
Harry was silent for a long moment. He wasn't sure what to say to that because he knew that what Draco had said was true. He didn't deserve a chance to be heard, but he still thought that the blond deserved to know why things happened the way they did.
"I know, but please, Draco? Let me explain."
The blond said nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette. He then slowly blew out the smoke, remaining silent.
Harry took this as a sign of the blond's acquiescence to hear him out. He nervously ran his fingers through his dark hair, wondering how to begin. It was just like him to come to Malfoy Manor on a whim once he had found out that Draco was still living there. He hadn't thought of what he would say, only that he had to say something.
"Ron and Hermione never really approved of our relationship," Harry heard himself say and winced at the obvious fact. "During the holidays, they constantly questioned my decision. When their questioning didn't put me in doubt as they hoped it would, they began to say that my having a relationship with you was endangering the entire world. They asked how I knew that you wouldn't turn me in or feed information to the Dark Lord."
Draco gave him a sharp, disbelieving look at this, which made Harry pause in his explanation for a second.
"I didn't think you would," Harry protested, though he was glad that the blond was at the very least listening to him. "But I didn't have the physical proof that my friends demanded. I only had the knowledge that you would never do that. They… they didn't know you like I did. They made me feel like I was being selfish in having a relationship with you. Billions of lives could be at stake because of my actions, because of my stubbornness to be with the son of Voldemort's right-hand man. Ron and Hermione… I'm sure they meant well, but they made me feel guilty for even daring to love you. After all, it was my job to keep the Wizarding world safe. What kind of hero would I be if I didn't?"
The blond snorted derisively at this but said nothing. He merely continued to smoke the dwindling cigarette carefully held between his fingers. Draco didn't look at Harry; instead, he watched the clouds of smoke he blew out with a trance-like interest.
"I didn't want to end things with you, Draco," the dark-haired wizard said in his quiet and tired way. "But I felt selfish for wanting to be happy at everyone else's expense. The guilt devoured me. That's when I wrote that note and Owled it to you. I felt awful, but I didn't know what else to do."
Draco merely tapped off the extra ash on the end of his cigarette, not bothering to make a response.
Harry sighed, reflecting on those days that were so far away and yet seemed to be only yesterday.
"You should've seen their faces when I told them it was over," he continued, frowning in thought. "They were so relieved, like it had been their burden to carry. Their faces lit up as if they knew that everything would be okay. I felt guiltier for making them worry so much. They were just looking out for me."
"Well, I'm so glad I've been enlightened as to where your priorities laid. The fact that you didn't even think to give me a proper reason then shows how much you cared," Draco said, scoffing. "It was a joy to listen to you, Potter, but I think it's time for you to leave. You know your way out."
"No!" Harry shouted desperately. "Please, Draco. Give me a chance to explain the rest. I made a huge mistake. I want you to know that."
"You say that like I care," the blond replied, smirking cruelly. Then without further warning, he Disapparated, leaving the famed hero to stand in the dreary gardens alone.
Harry slumped before staring up at the manor. He wasn't going to give up so easily. After all, he had to know if, after he had explained everything and begged for forgiveness, Draco would take him back. He wanted to be happy again. With that in mind, he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.
From a third story window, Draco watched Harry Disapparate away with a bit of relief. He hadn't expected to see the Wizarding hero appear, begging for a chance at an explanation. He hadn't thought that he would even still care or be sorry for the hurt he caused. Draco never dreamed that it would happen, quite possibly because he tried not to think of Harry Potter with minor success, but success nonetheless. But the truth was, no matter how much Harry had made him happy all those months ago, Draco didn't want him back in his life. He was done with risk and sacrifice. He had risked his heart and had it broken. He had sacrificed himself to the Dark Lord's cause, which was now non-existent and empty. Now, he just wanted to live a quiet life without the possibility of getting as hurt as he had, physically and emotionally.
"Rinny!"
The house elf appeared in an instant, bowing low.
"How may I serve the Master?" she said quite cheerfully.
"Do we still have a bottle of Chateau Margaux? The 1900 vintage?"
"Yes, Master's father kept a dozen of them in the cellar," Rinny answered without a moment of thought. "Does Master want a glass?"
Draco sighed and nodded, sitting down in a leather armchair when the house elf had disappeared. He would much rather have a cocktail, but that would involve travelling to a bar, which he was not in the mood to do. He didn't want to be stared at and whispered about if he went to a Wizarding bar. Going to a Muggle one was unthinkable. He contemplated this for a moment. Perhaps he could send his house elf out to purchase everything so he could have his cocktails at home. His thoughts were interrupted when his house elf reappeared with his glass of red wine and the bottle nicely chilled.
The blond took the glass and swirled it, taking in the sweet and spicy aroma that wafted from the wine. Closing his eyes, he sipped the rich wine, letting the liquid run delicately over his palate. It was smooth and faintly sweet of the fruit it consisted of. Between expensive wines and cigarettes, he could almost convince himself that he was healing, that he was moving on away from the pain, that he didn't care about Harry James Potter. Almost.
When he finished the glass, he poured himself another and let the alcohol take him to a place far, far away. It was a place where he felt nothing and remembered nothing. It was his favourite place.
* * *
The morning light was casting a multitude of colours across the sky. There were gorgeous lilacs, scintillating oranges, brilliant reds, and gentle pallid blues. It was quite possibly one of the most beautiful sunrises in the history of Wiltshire. Draco was most unfortunate in that he saw none of it, not that he was in the mood to appreciate such beauty. The blond was sitting at the bench of his grand piano, frowning harshly at a sheet of music. Taking up a quill, he drew a few notes on the music staff, crossing the others out. Then he placed the quill down and played the melodic phrasing, nodding approvingly when it echoed harmoniously.
There was a faint pop and his house elf was suddenly there, looking a bit frustrated.
"Master, there are a few Aurors here to search the manor," she said in an apologetic manner. "They request to see you before starting."
"Thank you, Rinny," he said, sighing wearily. "Let them know I'll be right there."
She bowed and disappeared to follow his instructions.
When Draco reached the bottom of the spiralling stairs of the manor and walked through the foyer, he wanted to turn back. There standing in the doorway were two Aurors he had never seen before and Harry Potter. It was too early in the morning to deal with Aurors invading his privacy and Potter invading his senses, breaking the protective walls around his heart - or the remnants of it. He wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear and get away from everything. It mattered very little to anyone what Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, wanted, however.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said as politely as he could muster.
"Mr. Malfoy," returned one of the Aurors. A rough looking unpleasant type. "Routine search for Dark Artefacts. I'm sure you know the procedure, so I won't waste our time going over it with you. The wards, if you will?"
Draco muttered a few incantations under his breath to let the Aurors, Harry Potter included, enter the manor. He bowed as they walked through, noting with a cringe that Potter didn't follow them. Then he stepped outside, feeling more tired than he had in awhile. He wasn't too surprised when Potter followed him.
"Why aren't you inside with the Aurors?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"It's part of procedure," Draco replied matter-of-factly. "They're worried I might cause them trouble or try to hide things."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise.
"That's a bit unjust, isn't it?"
Draco laughed rather bitterly before rolling up the sleeve of his robes and bearing his left arm. The Dark Mark, though faded due to the permanent death of Voldemort, was still visible and ugly.
"Think this gives them the right to treat me however they like," the blond said as he straightened his sleeve. He then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his robes and removed a single cigarette, lighting it with his wand. Taking a puff, he blew out the smoke before he turned down the path to walk to the lake in his gardens.
"Draco, wait-"
The blond whirled around, a furious expression upon his face.
"Look, Potter. I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want to listen to you. I thought I made that clear the other day. You came here with the other Aurors so I assume you're here on assignment. You might want to get on with it before you get yourself sacked," he said coldly before turning and heading down the path.
Harry watched the blond walk away and sighed. It seemed that there was no getting through with him. And even worse, Draco had been right. He was here on assignment, yet he wasn't helping his colleagues with the search, not that he wanted to. He was quite sure they would find nothing. Draco wasn't an idiot. Sighing, he turned around and headed back into the manor to see if he couldn't help the other Aurors.
He ended up receiving the task of searching the third floor. His method of searching consisted of peaking into each room to make sure there was nothing odd in it. Of course, he would find nothing out of the ordinary each time. He didn't want to thoroughly search anything. It was an invasion of Draco's privacy, and after all he had done, he didn't want to add that to his list of wrongdoings. At last, after looking into the endless rooms on the third floor, Harry came across a room at the end of the hall with French doors. The doors had beautiful stained glass windows of fairy like creatures, much like the ones in Muggle tales. The stained glass window on the left pictured a dark haired fairy playing a violin; the window on the right was of a light haired fairy playing a harp.
Harry had a feeling that it was one of Draco's favourite rooms in the manor. For this reason, he was reluctant to enter though he knew he had to for the sake of his job. But he was torn between maintaining integrity for his boss and for Draco. In the end, he made a sort of compromise and pushed open one of the doors just to take a brief glance. In the middle of the room was a black grand piano facing another set of French doors that opened out to a balcony. A crystal chandelier hung just above the piano, and bookshelves covered the walls of the circular room. The piano was covered with sheet music, but it was when Harry saw the quill that he realised all of the music had been composed by Draco. This gave him inspiration.
Harry conjured up several sheets of parchment and picked up the quill. Settling himself down in the hallway, he began writing. If Draco wouldn't listen to him when he tried to talk to him, perhaps he would read a letter, a letter that would be indestructible until fully read. It was tricky, and Harry didn't like it, but if it made Draco read the entire thing so that he was completely heard, he would do it. Harry wasn't much with words, but at least he could think things through when writing a letter and express himself more coherently than he could in a verbal manner. By the time he had finished writing the letter, the other two Aurors were just finishing their search through the manor. Harry took all the sheets of parchment and folded them together, before sealing it with his own seal. He set it on the piano and left.
* * *
Draco always felt invaded every time the Aurors came to search his manor. He would feel it even after they left, the sense of intrusion. It was his home. It was supposed to be his sanctuary, but with every visit, he was reminded that even that could be taken away. It was discomforting knowing that the one thing he had left was threatened so frequently. He wished he could stop it, disallow it. He had paid for his crimes, in every way he thought humanly possible. He just wanted to live quietly. Yet, he was powerless to demand such a thing, to even ask for it.
Rinny knew exactly what to do when he was feeling like this, blessed house elf that she was. Before he had uttered a word, she already had a cuppa prepared for him to take upstairs to the music room where he could relax and forget the entire encounter. He didn't Apparate to the room like he usually did but instead decided to take the long winding steps. It gave him time to clear his head before he tried to refocus his mind on his music.
When he did reach his music room, he noticed the folded parchment right away with his name clearly written on the outside. He recognised the handwriting and froze. No! No! No! Not in his favourite room. He set his cuppa aside and reached into his robes for his wand. He'd meant to cast Incendio at it, but his curiosity held him back. It didn't mean that he had forgotten the last time Harry had written to him, not by any means. That day was as clear and raw as if it happened the day before. The desperation and hopelessness that came after, he never wanted to experience that again. But what could Harry do? Break up with him again? Draco wanted to laugh bitterly. He was sure that all the letter contained was an explanation. He hadn't wanted to hear it. He still didn't.
But there the letter was. A small insignificant object in contrast to the large, vast room, yet it stood out as if it knew it didn't belong. Draco reached to take it off his piano and noticed with annoyance that his hand was shaky. Deep inside, a part of him wanted to read it and maybe even give Harry a proper chance to explain things. He hated that part. He wanted to squelch it, pretend it was no longer there. Mostly, he just didn't want to get hurt again, to reopen wounds that hadn't quite healed, that probably never would. He continued to stare at the unopened letter in his hand, completely torn by two opposing sides. The torment of not knowing won; he broke the seal and unfolded several thick parchments and began to read.
Draco,
I'm not sure where to start. I already told you part of the story days ago, and it's much harder to start in the middle than at the beginning. But I do want you to know that the letter is indestructible until it's been fully read by you. And I'm sorry to have used such a deceiving way of getting you to read this, but it was the only thing I could think of. Anyway... after I broke things off with you, I was severely depressed. You might be sneering at that, but I was. I missed you, and knowing that I had hurt you wasn't easy. It was empty and lonely without you. Ron and Hermione kept me constant company, but they're not you. Not even close. And I'm sure it was worse for you, not knowing my reasons. But I'm not making any assumptions on how much pain you felt. I know that I don't know anything about it. I wish I did. I wish you'd talk to me properly about it. I don't deserve to hear it, but that doesn't stop me from wishing. I'm going off track here. Sorry.
Ron and Hermione were even more worried now because I wasn't sleeping or eating. I mean, I wasn't much before, but it was worse now. I couldn't stop thinking of you - what you were doing, how you were doing, if you hated me. They didn't say anything. But I knew they were worrying. I heard them talking to each other, and they were afraid for me. Afraid that I was taking on too much. I hated that, hated worrying them. I'm not worth worrying about. I'm nothing special. I'm just that unlucky idiot that had a prophecy stuck on him when he was a baby. So I did the only thing I could. I pretended that nothing was wrong. I slowly "got better." And they seemed relieved and happy for me. They couldn't see beyond my mask of happiness and carelessness that I was still a mess inside. But I made sure that no one could. All except for... well, Ginny saw through it.
She approached me and asked what I was doing, why I was pretending to be alright when I wasn't. I was so shocked that she knew. I didn't tell her everything; I didn't think she'd understand about you. But I told her everything else, and she listened. She understood and never said a word of it to Ron or Hermione or anyone else for that matter. I could be myself around her. I could be melancholy and depressed and angry. She wouldn't judge or worry herself to death; she'd just listen and offer words of advice or comfort. She helped me heal a little. I was still guilty over you, but she distracted me from my dark thoughts. Played pranks on her brothers while I was around. Draco, I know you're probably disgusted about my praise for a Weasley, but she helped me when no one else could. I'm sorry. I wish it could've been you.
One day, I realised that if I had continued a relationship with you, it could've endangered you. What if someone found out? I wasn't sure if you had mastered Occlumency, and if they knew that you were dating the Boy Who Lived, they could've used you as leverage against me. I couldn't have that. I couldn't even bear to think of it. No, now it made sense to stay far away from you until the War was over. There was no way we could be together unless Voldemort was dead, truly dead. Anyway... Ron and Hermione noticed that I was feeling better, less moody. I reckon they thought it was Ginny's doing and began hinting that we'd make a cute couple. She had helped a lot, and the idea made her happy. I know it did; I saw it in her eyes. Besides, I thought she could fill the void that you left. I know; I was a complete and utter git.
We officially became a couple, and everyone was happy. I deluded myself into think that I was too. Why shouldn't I be? But then... remember that one day? You happened across us on the Hogwarts grounds? And you were so cruel with your words... so cold. I wondered then if I had done the right thing. Even if I hadn't, it was too late. I couldn't do anything; if I broke things off with Ginny, I'd break all of the Weasleys' hearts too. I couldn't do that. They were my family. So I continued on with her, all the while thinking about you. Part of me was angry with you. I wanted you to prove them all wrong, that you could be the caring and wonderful person I fell in love with, even without me "influencing" you. Part of me wanted you to prove that you weren't cold or evil, but you never did. Instead, you had that wall of ice around you again. I couldn't see what you were thinking, what you were feeling. And that hurt. I guess that was my fault. I thought you hated me then. No, I definitely knew that you did. But there wasn't anything I could say to make things better between us. It was better to keep things distant, if only to keep you safe from Voldemort.
I failed in that too, didn't I? Was it because of me that you joined him? I didn't know right away that you took the Dark Mark and became a Death Eater. I'm still not sure when you did, but I'm sure you'd tell me it's none of my business. I reckon I deserve that. I didn't see it then, but I abandoned you when you most needed me, didn't I? I just thought that I was keeping everyone safe, doing what I was doing. Even you. But I sacrificed you in the process. I'm so sorry, Draco. I know you don't believe me. It was never supposed to be you. I realised then, the night that I saw Voldemort torture you for hours among hours. I realised that I never stopped loving you. I realised I had made a huge mistake. I realised that I may not be able to fix everything, especially that mistake. Because you had been hurt already. But that night, it gave me a reason to fight. No. To kill Voldemort so he couldn't come back. You'll laugh when you read this next. I'm sure it'll come out shallow and false after all you've been through. But I killed him for you. Not for the world, not for my friends, not even for me. Just you.
Things ended between me and Ginny quickly. She wasn't happy. And I wasn't happy. I couldn't be the knight in shining armour that she wanted me to be. I was too hurt myself, too broken. How could I save her when I needed saving myself? She couldn't provide what I craved most. Like I said, she wasn't you, Draco. She never was. She never replaced you. I was just stupid and ignorant to think she could. I hope that one day you might be able to forgive me. If not for me, then so you might find peace in yourself. I just wanted to tell you the whole story. I wanted to tell you that I did realise what a bastard I was being to you. I wanted to apologise and beg for your forgiveness. Draco, I still do. I don't deserve to, I know. But I still can't help but ask anyway. Because I need you in my life. And I was hoping... a hope among hopes that somehow, you'd be able to find it in your heart to forgive me. And maybe... maybe give us another chance. Give me another chance. I don't deserve it. I don't. But you're the only one who can make me whole. I want to be whole again.
I've said my piece. Thank you for reading, even if I tricked you into it. I really hope I hear from you soon. If not, I take my leave and bow out gracefully.
-Harry
Draco stared at the sheets of parchment for a long time, even after he had read the letter three times over and committed everything to memory. There were some things that he had expected to hear, the apologies and everything. But there were other things that came to a surprise to him. He hadn't known that Harry had seen him at his weakest point; he loathed that, though he knew it wasn't even Harry's fault. There were so many thoughts crowding his head that he couldn't even organise them all. It was overwhelming. The letter was overwhelming. He didn't know how to feel or what to feel. He had been so angry, so bitter, thinking that Harry never cared, that his love had all been a sham. But it wasn't true. It didn't ease the hurt he had felt though. He didn't foresee that going away anytime soon. It did, however, put some things into perspective.
He took his cuppa and sat down in a comfortable chair beside the piano, sipping the hot tea. It soothed him and allowed him to slowly sort out his thoughts. Harry wanted him to give them another chance. Draco wasn't so sure that he was ready to take the risk, to allow himself to get close enough to another human being. He didn't want to be hurt again, and he was comfortable where he was. Not happy, no. But complacent in a way. He really couldn't ask for much more in his life. He was planning on taking the very, very safe path. Or so he had, until the letter. He took another sip of the mildly sweet tea, thinking back on the days when he had Harry, when he thought he could depend on him. Those were his happiest days, he knew. But when that was taken away from him, he had barely survived. Still, Harry had no real reason to end things now, and he seemed so sincere about wanting his forgiveness. The question was: could he give it? Could he overcome past hurts and take the plunge? He wasn't sure.
Draco finished his tea and set the cup on a small table beside the chair. Closing his eyes, he curled up in the chair, feeling warm and comfortable. He didn't have to decide things now or even anytime soon. If Harry loved him as much as he said he did, cared for him as much as he said he did, he would wait. He was feeling tired, so very tired. He could sleep now, and not even have to think about the letter. Maybe things would be clearer when he woke up. With that as his last conscious thought, Draco slipped into the world of dreams where things were just as confusing as in the waking world.
In his dreams, he was outside, desperately searching for something. It was raining, harder than it usually did. The clouds were dark, and rain was pouring down as if it was making up for lost time. Draco was wet and completely soaked through. He wasn't sure why he hadn't cast a charm to keep himself dry, but he was desperate to find this thing he was searching for. He was walking hurriedly down the streets, head twisting back and forth, just looking and looking. A person standing in the middle of the street caught his glance. The person had dark hair that clung to his head due to the heavy rain and deep green eyes. He had his hand, palm facing upward, raised towards Draco. In his hand was a simple platinum band with a silver and green dragon curled up around it. It was a family heirloom. It was the Malfoy family heirloom. It was what Draco was looking for. He rushed over to take the ring from the dark haired boy, but as he clasped the ring, the boy clasped his hand in a gentle hold. Don't let go, the boy mouthed to him. Don't let me go.
* * *
Draco was awake bright and early the next day. He finished writing the musical piece he had been composing for the past few months. He thought it was quite possibly the most touching and heart-wrenching thing he had ever composed. He was satisfied with it. It had been his best work. After he had cast spells to protect the music sheets from being changed, ruined, or destroyed, Draco summoned Rinny to the room to ask her a favour. Twisting the platinum draconic ring on his right ring finger, he instructed his house elf to write an Owl to Harry J. Potter.
"Mr. Potter, sir?" the house elf squeaked.
"Yes, Rinny. Tell him he's invited to tea this afternoon."
"Y-yes, Master!" she said quite dutifully before disappearing.
That afternoon, the best china set was laid out in the Drawing Room, where the Malfoys usually entertained their guests, something they were quite natural at. Draco, of course, was the same way. He waited patiently in his best robes for his guest to arrive. He felt no nerves, and he thought what he was about to offer was the most he could give. If Harry didn't think it was enough, then there was nothing that Draco could do. He had made his decision, and he would be firm. He would be calculating and take the minimum amount of risks. He would try.
Harry was unusually punctual - Draco was sure he was trying to make a good impression - and was dressed in his finest robes. He was shown, by Rinny, into the Drawing Room where Draco waited for him.
"You made it," the blond said simply. "Please, have a seat."
"I couldn't very well say no, could I?" Harry said in his quiet way before taking a seat at the table that had been set for tea. "This could be my only chance."
"Your only chance at what?" Draco asked, pouring tea into the cups. He already knew how Harry liked his tea, adding just the right amount of sugar and milk into the cup. It sometimes frightened him to discover how much he knew about the man sitting across from him.
"Redemption, maybe? I made a huge mistake... you read my letter," Harry said, taking his cuppa and sipping thoughtfully. "Er, w-what did you think of it?"
"The letter?" the blond asked calmly.
"Er, yes."
"It put things into a new perspective," Draco said, shrugging before sipping his own cup of tea. "It doesn't change anything though."
"Nothing can change the past. I'm only hoping for the future... if you'll let me."
"Potter," Draco began slowly, "you've hurt me. You were a completely insensitive bastard about it and apologising or admitting the mistake doesn't change either of those facts. It doesn't take the hurt away. It doesn't heal wounds. I don't think I could give you exactly what you're looking for."
"Oh," Harry said, looking immediately crestfallen but trying to hide it.
"But that doesn't mean I won't try," Draco said. "If you meant all the things that you said - and I'm fairly certain you do - then I don't see why I can't try. It'll be slow, Potter. Don't think I can trust you right away again. But it's a start, I think."
Harry's eyes brightened considerably, and he nearly dropped his cup in his excitement, cursing when his sudden movement made him spill hot tea over his fingers.
"Ow! Fuck!" he swore, setting the cup down and blowing at his fingers. Then he looked back at Draco, who was rolling his eyes in an exasperated manner. "Wait, you really mean that? You'll give us a chance?"
"Yes, Potter, I think I will. Even if you don't quite deserve it."
"Harry."
Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Call me Harry," the dark-haired wizard said, almost shyly.
"Right, Harry," Draco replied, offering him the smallest of smiles.
Draco wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, and he wasn't sure if he would regret it. But his greatest adversary, Voldemort, was dead. That allowed him somewhat of a new start. And if he could make a mistake and get a chance at life again, why couldn't the Wizarding Hero? After all, it wasn't a measure of whether they did or didn't deserve another chance. It was their willingness to start anew and to attempt to forget their own dark pasts. There would be challenges ahead, Draco was sure of it, but if he could face the Dark Lord and survive, he was sure to overcome anything. And perhaps one day... one day, his wounds would heal, and he would be able to love and trust with the whole of his heart again. But for now, he would take things one step at a time.
Author: faeriechii
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 6,480 (13,661 total)
Summary: As the seasons change, so do the circumstances of Harry and Draco's relationship. They learn that life is not a fairy tale, and sometimes love just isn't enough.
Warnings: Slight angst.
Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. The writing belongs to me
A/N: Much love and gratitude to j_folked for beta'ing my piece. This part took longer than usual to write because it was a challenge to resolve things. Enjoy, and as usual, constructive criticism is appreciated.
Previous Parts - Part 1: Winter | Part 2: Spring | Part 3: Summer
Part 4: Autumn
The only way to revive something once dead is through rebirth. With time, even the deadest things will live again.
Draco Malfoy stood outside of Malfoy Manor smoking a cigarette and watching. He watched the swarm of Aurors search his home for illegal objects. He watched as they scowled when they turned up with nothing. He watched as they Disapparated away with promises that they would return. He took another long drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. He was sure had it not been for the fag, he would've hexed the Aurors, giving himself a nice trip to Azkaban. But he was relaxed; smoking always made him so.
"Draco."
The blond tensed instantly at the familiar voice. He was afraid to turn around and face him. He wasn't sure if he was ready. Yet, he turned to coolly meet the gaze of the proclaimed Wizarding hero anyway.
"Potter," Draco greeted tonelessly, cigarette delicately held between his index and middle finger. "I had no idea we were on a first name basis. What do you want? Come to follow up on the Aurors' search of the manor?"
"No," Harry said, looking confused. "I didn't know about that. I just wanted to talk to you. Wait… they were searching the manor?"
"Isn't that what I just said?" the blond said incredulously. "Honestly, did the War make you slow? How you ever managed to destroy the Dark Lord with a mind like that is beyond me."
"I had a lot of help," Harry said wryly, before sighing and looking slightly defeated. "Look, I didn't come here to fight with you. Can we talk?"
Draco put the cigarette up to his lips and inhaled, feeling the calming effects of it. Relax, he told himself. He had suffered through the Dark Lord's curses; he could survive a chat with Harry Potter. Or so he hoped.
"And what exactly would you call what we're doing, Potter?" the blond replied, blowing out the smoke he had inhaled.
"Draco, please?" Harry pleaded desperately. He knew it would be hard, knowing how much he had hurt the blond, but he needed to explain.
Draco turned away from him and walked down the path into the gardens of the estate. There wasn't much to see that time of year. All the flowers had long past died away, and the green leaves of many trees were turning gold, red, and brown. There was a hint of death in the air: a sign of the coming winter. It was the blond's favourite season. It was true to life; things were always coming to an end and dying. It was a realist's favourite season, and he prided himself on being realistic. It was much better than being a hopeless romantic and ending up disappointed because of it. He mulled over this as his feet mercilessly crunched the dried leaves covering the path. He heard quiet footsteps behind him and knew that Harry had followed him. They continued walking down the path in silence, through thick trees and shrubberies. After several moments, Draco came across a clearing where a lake was situated. It was as still and dead as the rest of the garden. It was his favourite place.
Draco walked along the path that wound around the lake and sat on a bench made of smooth redwood. He watched with slight amusement as Harry hesitated before sitting next to him on the bench. The blond made no move to converse as he tapped ashes off the end of his cigarette before taking another drag of it.
"You shouldn't smoke," Harry said in his quiet, awkward way. "It kills."
"Since when did a guest have authority to tell his host what he should or should not be doing on the host's own property?" Draco retorted, sneering. "Besides, living kills. Should I stop doing that as well?"
"No, that's not what I mean, and you know it!" Harry sighed. "You're not making this easy for me."
"What, you thought I was going to be thrilled to see you, Potter? I'm not a member of your blindly adoring rabid fans."
"I didn't say that, but you could at least-"
"I don't owe you anything, Potter," Draco said, the tone of his voice dropping icily. He turned to face the dark-haired wizard, and his expression was as frigid as his tone. "If I recall correctly, you left me. Not the other way around, so excuse me if I don't feel like catering to your needs."
"That's… what I wanted to talk to you about," Harry said, fidgeting nervously. "Draco, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was- no, am."
"Oh, that makes everything all better! The Wizarding Hero apologises, and all is right with the world. Now we can be best mates and forget everything you've put me through," the blond said quite cheerfully with an unpleasant smile on his face. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Harry shook his head sadly.
"No, Draco. I just want you to listen so I can explain everything."
"And what makes you think you deserve to be listened to?"
"I don't," Harry said, sincerely and miserably. "But I think you deserve an explanation because of everything you went through."
"You know nothing about what I went through, Potter," Draco spat vehemently. "So don't use that as a reason for why I deserve an explanation."
Harry was silent for a long moment. He wasn't sure what to say to that because he knew that what Draco had said was true. He didn't deserve a chance to be heard, but he still thought that the blond deserved to know why things happened the way they did.
"I know, but please, Draco? Let me explain."
The blond said nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette. He then slowly blew out the smoke, remaining silent.
Harry took this as a sign of the blond's acquiescence to hear him out. He nervously ran his fingers through his dark hair, wondering how to begin. It was just like him to come to Malfoy Manor on a whim once he had found out that Draco was still living there. He hadn't thought of what he would say, only that he had to say something.
"Ron and Hermione never really approved of our relationship," Harry heard himself say and winced at the obvious fact. "During the holidays, they constantly questioned my decision. When their questioning didn't put me in doubt as they hoped it would, they began to say that my having a relationship with you was endangering the entire world. They asked how I knew that you wouldn't turn me in or feed information to the Dark Lord."
Draco gave him a sharp, disbelieving look at this, which made Harry pause in his explanation for a second.
"I didn't think you would," Harry protested, though he was glad that the blond was at the very least listening to him. "But I didn't have the physical proof that my friends demanded. I only had the knowledge that you would never do that. They… they didn't know you like I did. They made me feel like I was being selfish in having a relationship with you. Billions of lives could be at stake because of my actions, because of my stubbornness to be with the son of Voldemort's right-hand man. Ron and Hermione… I'm sure they meant well, but they made me feel guilty for even daring to love you. After all, it was my job to keep the Wizarding world safe. What kind of hero would I be if I didn't?"
The blond snorted derisively at this but said nothing. He merely continued to smoke the dwindling cigarette carefully held between his fingers. Draco didn't look at Harry; instead, he watched the clouds of smoke he blew out with a trance-like interest.
"I didn't want to end things with you, Draco," the dark-haired wizard said in his quiet and tired way. "But I felt selfish for wanting to be happy at everyone else's expense. The guilt devoured me. That's when I wrote that note and Owled it to you. I felt awful, but I didn't know what else to do."
Draco merely tapped off the extra ash on the end of his cigarette, not bothering to make a response.
Harry sighed, reflecting on those days that were so far away and yet seemed to be only yesterday.
"You should've seen their faces when I told them it was over," he continued, frowning in thought. "They were so relieved, like it had been their burden to carry. Their faces lit up as if they knew that everything would be okay. I felt guiltier for making them worry so much. They were just looking out for me."
"Well, I'm so glad I've been enlightened as to where your priorities laid. The fact that you didn't even think to give me a proper reason then shows how much you cared," Draco said, scoffing. "It was a joy to listen to you, Potter, but I think it's time for you to leave. You know your way out."
"No!" Harry shouted desperately. "Please, Draco. Give me a chance to explain the rest. I made a huge mistake. I want you to know that."
"You say that like I care," the blond replied, smirking cruelly. Then without further warning, he Disapparated, leaving the famed hero to stand in the dreary gardens alone.
Harry slumped before staring up at the manor. He wasn't going to give up so easily. After all, he had to know if, after he had explained everything and begged for forgiveness, Draco would take him back. He wanted to be happy again. With that in mind, he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.
From a third story window, Draco watched Harry Disapparate away with a bit of relief. He hadn't expected to see the Wizarding hero appear, begging for a chance at an explanation. He hadn't thought that he would even still care or be sorry for the hurt he caused. Draco never dreamed that it would happen, quite possibly because he tried not to think of Harry Potter with minor success, but success nonetheless. But the truth was, no matter how much Harry had made him happy all those months ago, Draco didn't want him back in his life. He was done with risk and sacrifice. He had risked his heart and had it broken. He had sacrificed himself to the Dark Lord's cause, which was now non-existent and empty. Now, he just wanted to live a quiet life without the possibility of getting as hurt as he had, physically and emotionally.
"Rinny!"
The house elf appeared in an instant, bowing low.
"How may I serve the Master?" she said quite cheerfully.
"Do we still have a bottle of Chateau Margaux? The 1900 vintage?"
"Yes, Master's father kept a dozen of them in the cellar," Rinny answered without a moment of thought. "Does Master want a glass?"
Draco sighed and nodded, sitting down in a leather armchair when the house elf had disappeared. He would much rather have a cocktail, but that would involve travelling to a bar, which he was not in the mood to do. He didn't want to be stared at and whispered about if he went to a Wizarding bar. Going to a Muggle one was unthinkable. He contemplated this for a moment. Perhaps he could send his house elf out to purchase everything so he could have his cocktails at home. His thoughts were interrupted when his house elf reappeared with his glass of red wine and the bottle nicely chilled.
The blond took the glass and swirled it, taking in the sweet and spicy aroma that wafted from the wine. Closing his eyes, he sipped the rich wine, letting the liquid run delicately over his palate. It was smooth and faintly sweet of the fruit it consisted of. Between expensive wines and cigarettes, he could almost convince himself that he was healing, that he was moving on away from the pain, that he didn't care about Harry James Potter. Almost.
When he finished the glass, he poured himself another and let the alcohol take him to a place far, far away. It was a place where he felt nothing and remembered nothing. It was his favourite place.
* * *
The morning light was casting a multitude of colours across the sky. There were gorgeous lilacs, scintillating oranges, brilliant reds, and gentle pallid blues. It was quite possibly one of the most beautiful sunrises in the history of Wiltshire. Draco was most unfortunate in that he saw none of it, not that he was in the mood to appreciate such beauty. The blond was sitting at the bench of his grand piano, frowning harshly at a sheet of music. Taking up a quill, he drew a few notes on the music staff, crossing the others out. Then he placed the quill down and played the melodic phrasing, nodding approvingly when it echoed harmoniously.
There was a faint pop and his house elf was suddenly there, looking a bit frustrated.
"Master, there are a few Aurors here to search the manor," she said in an apologetic manner. "They request to see you before starting."
"Thank you, Rinny," he said, sighing wearily. "Let them know I'll be right there."
She bowed and disappeared to follow his instructions.
When Draco reached the bottom of the spiralling stairs of the manor and walked through the foyer, he wanted to turn back. There standing in the doorway were two Aurors he had never seen before and Harry Potter. It was too early in the morning to deal with Aurors invading his privacy and Potter invading his senses, breaking the protective walls around his heart - or the remnants of it. He wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear and get away from everything. It mattered very little to anyone what Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, wanted, however.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said as politely as he could muster.
"Mr. Malfoy," returned one of the Aurors. A rough looking unpleasant type. "Routine search for Dark Artefacts. I'm sure you know the procedure, so I won't waste our time going over it with you. The wards, if you will?"
Draco muttered a few incantations under his breath to let the Aurors, Harry Potter included, enter the manor. He bowed as they walked through, noting with a cringe that Potter didn't follow them. Then he stepped outside, feeling more tired than he had in awhile. He wasn't too surprised when Potter followed him.
"Why aren't you inside with the Aurors?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"It's part of procedure," Draco replied matter-of-factly. "They're worried I might cause them trouble or try to hide things."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise.
"That's a bit unjust, isn't it?"
Draco laughed rather bitterly before rolling up the sleeve of his robes and bearing his left arm. The Dark Mark, though faded due to the permanent death of Voldemort, was still visible and ugly.
"Think this gives them the right to treat me however they like," the blond said as he straightened his sleeve. He then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his robes and removed a single cigarette, lighting it with his wand. Taking a puff, he blew out the smoke before he turned down the path to walk to the lake in his gardens.
"Draco, wait-"
The blond whirled around, a furious expression upon his face.
"Look, Potter. I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want to listen to you. I thought I made that clear the other day. You came here with the other Aurors so I assume you're here on assignment. You might want to get on with it before you get yourself sacked," he said coldly before turning and heading down the path.
Harry watched the blond walk away and sighed. It seemed that there was no getting through with him. And even worse, Draco had been right. He was here on assignment, yet he wasn't helping his colleagues with the search, not that he wanted to. He was quite sure they would find nothing. Draco wasn't an idiot. Sighing, he turned around and headed back into the manor to see if he couldn't help the other Aurors.
He ended up receiving the task of searching the third floor. His method of searching consisted of peaking into each room to make sure there was nothing odd in it. Of course, he would find nothing out of the ordinary each time. He didn't want to thoroughly search anything. It was an invasion of Draco's privacy, and after all he had done, he didn't want to add that to his list of wrongdoings. At last, after looking into the endless rooms on the third floor, Harry came across a room at the end of the hall with French doors. The doors had beautiful stained glass windows of fairy like creatures, much like the ones in Muggle tales. The stained glass window on the left pictured a dark haired fairy playing a violin; the window on the right was of a light haired fairy playing a harp.
Harry had a feeling that it was one of Draco's favourite rooms in the manor. For this reason, he was reluctant to enter though he knew he had to for the sake of his job. But he was torn between maintaining integrity for his boss and for Draco. In the end, he made a sort of compromise and pushed open one of the doors just to take a brief glance. In the middle of the room was a black grand piano facing another set of French doors that opened out to a balcony. A crystal chandelier hung just above the piano, and bookshelves covered the walls of the circular room. The piano was covered with sheet music, but it was when Harry saw the quill that he realised all of the music had been composed by Draco. This gave him inspiration.
Harry conjured up several sheets of parchment and picked up the quill. Settling himself down in the hallway, he began writing. If Draco wouldn't listen to him when he tried to talk to him, perhaps he would read a letter, a letter that would be indestructible until fully read. It was tricky, and Harry didn't like it, but if it made Draco read the entire thing so that he was completely heard, he would do it. Harry wasn't much with words, but at least he could think things through when writing a letter and express himself more coherently than he could in a verbal manner. By the time he had finished writing the letter, the other two Aurors were just finishing their search through the manor. Harry took all the sheets of parchment and folded them together, before sealing it with his own seal. He set it on the piano and left.
* * *
Draco always felt invaded every time the Aurors came to search his manor. He would feel it even after they left, the sense of intrusion. It was his home. It was supposed to be his sanctuary, but with every visit, he was reminded that even that could be taken away. It was discomforting knowing that the one thing he had left was threatened so frequently. He wished he could stop it, disallow it. He had paid for his crimes, in every way he thought humanly possible. He just wanted to live quietly. Yet, he was powerless to demand such a thing, to even ask for it.
Rinny knew exactly what to do when he was feeling like this, blessed house elf that she was. Before he had uttered a word, she already had a cuppa prepared for him to take upstairs to the music room where he could relax and forget the entire encounter. He didn't Apparate to the room like he usually did but instead decided to take the long winding steps. It gave him time to clear his head before he tried to refocus his mind on his music.
When he did reach his music room, he noticed the folded parchment right away with his name clearly written on the outside. He recognised the handwriting and froze. No! No! No! Not in his favourite room. He set his cuppa aside and reached into his robes for his wand. He'd meant to cast Incendio at it, but his curiosity held him back. It didn't mean that he had forgotten the last time Harry had written to him, not by any means. That day was as clear and raw as if it happened the day before. The desperation and hopelessness that came after, he never wanted to experience that again. But what could Harry do? Break up with him again? Draco wanted to laugh bitterly. He was sure that all the letter contained was an explanation. He hadn't wanted to hear it. He still didn't.
But there the letter was. A small insignificant object in contrast to the large, vast room, yet it stood out as if it knew it didn't belong. Draco reached to take it off his piano and noticed with annoyance that his hand was shaky. Deep inside, a part of him wanted to read it and maybe even give Harry a proper chance to explain things. He hated that part. He wanted to squelch it, pretend it was no longer there. Mostly, he just didn't want to get hurt again, to reopen wounds that hadn't quite healed, that probably never would. He continued to stare at the unopened letter in his hand, completely torn by two opposing sides. The torment of not knowing won; he broke the seal and unfolded several thick parchments and began to read.
Draco,
I'm not sure where to start. I already told you part of the story days ago, and it's much harder to start in the middle than at the beginning. But I do want you to know that the letter is indestructible until it's been fully read by you. And I'm sorry to have used such a deceiving way of getting you to read this, but it was the only thing I could think of. Anyway... after I broke things off with you, I was severely depressed. You might be sneering at that, but I was. I missed you, and knowing that I had hurt you wasn't easy. It was empty and lonely without you. Ron and Hermione kept me constant company, but they're not you. Not even close. And I'm sure it was worse for you, not knowing my reasons. But I'm not making any assumptions on how much pain you felt. I know that I don't know anything about it. I wish I did. I wish you'd talk to me properly about it. I don't deserve to hear it, but that doesn't stop me from wishing. I'm going off track here. Sorry.
Ron and Hermione were even more worried now because I wasn't sleeping or eating. I mean, I wasn't much before, but it was worse now. I couldn't stop thinking of you - what you were doing, how you were doing, if you hated me. They didn't say anything. But I knew they were worrying. I heard them talking to each other, and they were afraid for me. Afraid that I was taking on too much. I hated that, hated worrying them. I'm not worth worrying about. I'm nothing special. I'm just that unlucky idiot that had a prophecy stuck on him when he was a baby. So I did the only thing I could. I pretended that nothing was wrong. I slowly "got better." And they seemed relieved and happy for me. They couldn't see beyond my mask of happiness and carelessness that I was still a mess inside. But I made sure that no one could. All except for... well, Ginny saw through it.
She approached me and asked what I was doing, why I was pretending to be alright when I wasn't. I was so shocked that she knew. I didn't tell her everything; I didn't think she'd understand about you. But I told her everything else, and she listened. She understood and never said a word of it to Ron or Hermione or anyone else for that matter. I could be myself around her. I could be melancholy and depressed and angry. She wouldn't judge or worry herself to death; she'd just listen and offer words of advice or comfort. She helped me heal a little. I was still guilty over you, but she distracted me from my dark thoughts. Played pranks on her brothers while I was around. Draco, I know you're probably disgusted about my praise for a Weasley, but she helped me when no one else could. I'm sorry. I wish it could've been you.
One day, I realised that if I had continued a relationship with you, it could've endangered you. What if someone found out? I wasn't sure if you had mastered Occlumency, and if they knew that you were dating the Boy Who Lived, they could've used you as leverage against me. I couldn't have that. I couldn't even bear to think of it. No, now it made sense to stay far away from you until the War was over. There was no way we could be together unless Voldemort was dead, truly dead. Anyway... Ron and Hermione noticed that I was feeling better, less moody. I reckon they thought it was Ginny's doing and began hinting that we'd make a cute couple. She had helped a lot, and the idea made her happy. I know it did; I saw it in her eyes. Besides, I thought she could fill the void that you left. I know; I was a complete and utter git.
We officially became a couple, and everyone was happy. I deluded myself into think that I was too. Why shouldn't I be? But then... remember that one day? You happened across us on the Hogwarts grounds? And you were so cruel with your words... so cold. I wondered then if I had done the right thing. Even if I hadn't, it was too late. I couldn't do anything; if I broke things off with Ginny, I'd break all of the Weasleys' hearts too. I couldn't do that. They were my family. So I continued on with her, all the while thinking about you. Part of me was angry with you. I wanted you to prove them all wrong, that you could be the caring and wonderful person I fell in love with, even without me "influencing" you. Part of me wanted you to prove that you weren't cold or evil, but you never did. Instead, you had that wall of ice around you again. I couldn't see what you were thinking, what you were feeling. And that hurt. I guess that was my fault. I thought you hated me then. No, I definitely knew that you did. But there wasn't anything I could say to make things better between us. It was better to keep things distant, if only to keep you safe from Voldemort.
I failed in that too, didn't I? Was it because of me that you joined him? I didn't know right away that you took the Dark Mark and became a Death Eater. I'm still not sure when you did, but I'm sure you'd tell me it's none of my business. I reckon I deserve that. I didn't see it then, but I abandoned you when you most needed me, didn't I? I just thought that I was keeping everyone safe, doing what I was doing. Even you. But I sacrificed you in the process. I'm so sorry, Draco. I know you don't believe me. It was never supposed to be you. I realised then, the night that I saw Voldemort torture you for hours among hours. I realised that I never stopped loving you. I realised I had made a huge mistake. I realised that I may not be able to fix everything, especially that mistake. Because you had been hurt already. But that night, it gave me a reason to fight. No. To kill Voldemort so he couldn't come back. You'll laugh when you read this next. I'm sure it'll come out shallow and false after all you've been through. But I killed him for you. Not for the world, not for my friends, not even for me. Just you.
Things ended between me and Ginny quickly. She wasn't happy. And I wasn't happy. I couldn't be the knight in shining armour that she wanted me to be. I was too hurt myself, too broken. How could I save her when I needed saving myself? She couldn't provide what I craved most. Like I said, she wasn't you, Draco. She never was. She never replaced you. I was just stupid and ignorant to think she could. I hope that one day you might be able to forgive me. If not for me, then so you might find peace in yourself. I just wanted to tell you the whole story. I wanted to tell you that I did realise what a bastard I was being to you. I wanted to apologise and beg for your forgiveness. Draco, I still do. I don't deserve to, I know. But I still can't help but ask anyway. Because I need you in my life. And I was hoping... a hope among hopes that somehow, you'd be able to find it in your heart to forgive me. And maybe... maybe give us another chance. Give me another chance. I don't deserve it. I don't. But you're the only one who can make me whole. I want to be whole again.
I've said my piece. Thank you for reading, even if I tricked you into it. I really hope I hear from you soon. If not, I take my leave and bow out gracefully.
-Harry
Draco stared at the sheets of parchment for a long time, even after he had read the letter three times over and committed everything to memory. There were some things that he had expected to hear, the apologies and everything. But there were other things that came to a surprise to him. He hadn't known that Harry had seen him at his weakest point; he loathed that, though he knew it wasn't even Harry's fault. There were so many thoughts crowding his head that he couldn't even organise them all. It was overwhelming. The letter was overwhelming. He didn't know how to feel or what to feel. He had been so angry, so bitter, thinking that Harry never cared, that his love had all been a sham. But it wasn't true. It didn't ease the hurt he had felt though. He didn't foresee that going away anytime soon. It did, however, put some things into perspective.
He took his cuppa and sat down in a comfortable chair beside the piano, sipping the hot tea. It soothed him and allowed him to slowly sort out his thoughts. Harry wanted him to give them another chance. Draco wasn't so sure that he was ready to take the risk, to allow himself to get close enough to another human being. He didn't want to be hurt again, and he was comfortable where he was. Not happy, no. But complacent in a way. He really couldn't ask for much more in his life. He was planning on taking the very, very safe path. Or so he had, until the letter. He took another sip of the mildly sweet tea, thinking back on the days when he had Harry, when he thought he could depend on him. Those were his happiest days, he knew. But when that was taken away from him, he had barely survived. Still, Harry had no real reason to end things now, and he seemed so sincere about wanting his forgiveness. The question was: could he give it? Could he overcome past hurts and take the plunge? He wasn't sure.
Draco finished his tea and set the cup on a small table beside the chair. Closing his eyes, he curled up in the chair, feeling warm and comfortable. He didn't have to decide things now or even anytime soon. If Harry loved him as much as he said he did, cared for him as much as he said he did, he would wait. He was feeling tired, so very tired. He could sleep now, and not even have to think about the letter. Maybe things would be clearer when he woke up. With that as his last conscious thought, Draco slipped into the world of dreams where things were just as confusing as in the waking world.
In his dreams, he was outside, desperately searching for something. It was raining, harder than it usually did. The clouds were dark, and rain was pouring down as if it was making up for lost time. Draco was wet and completely soaked through. He wasn't sure why he hadn't cast a charm to keep himself dry, but he was desperate to find this thing he was searching for. He was walking hurriedly down the streets, head twisting back and forth, just looking and looking. A person standing in the middle of the street caught his glance. The person had dark hair that clung to his head due to the heavy rain and deep green eyes. He had his hand, palm facing upward, raised towards Draco. In his hand was a simple platinum band with a silver and green dragon curled up around it. It was a family heirloom. It was the Malfoy family heirloom. It was what Draco was looking for. He rushed over to take the ring from the dark haired boy, but as he clasped the ring, the boy clasped his hand in a gentle hold. Don't let go, the boy mouthed to him. Don't let me go.
* * *
Draco was awake bright and early the next day. He finished writing the musical piece he had been composing for the past few months. He thought it was quite possibly the most touching and heart-wrenching thing he had ever composed. He was satisfied with it. It had been his best work. After he had cast spells to protect the music sheets from being changed, ruined, or destroyed, Draco summoned Rinny to the room to ask her a favour. Twisting the platinum draconic ring on his right ring finger, he instructed his house elf to write an Owl to Harry J. Potter.
"Mr. Potter, sir?" the house elf squeaked.
"Yes, Rinny. Tell him he's invited to tea this afternoon."
"Y-yes, Master!" she said quite dutifully before disappearing.
That afternoon, the best china set was laid out in the Drawing Room, where the Malfoys usually entertained their guests, something they were quite natural at. Draco, of course, was the same way. He waited patiently in his best robes for his guest to arrive. He felt no nerves, and he thought what he was about to offer was the most he could give. If Harry didn't think it was enough, then there was nothing that Draco could do. He had made his decision, and he would be firm. He would be calculating and take the minimum amount of risks. He would try.
Harry was unusually punctual - Draco was sure he was trying to make a good impression - and was dressed in his finest robes. He was shown, by Rinny, into the Drawing Room where Draco waited for him.
"You made it," the blond said simply. "Please, have a seat."
"I couldn't very well say no, could I?" Harry said in his quiet way before taking a seat at the table that had been set for tea. "This could be my only chance."
"Your only chance at what?" Draco asked, pouring tea into the cups. He already knew how Harry liked his tea, adding just the right amount of sugar and milk into the cup. It sometimes frightened him to discover how much he knew about the man sitting across from him.
"Redemption, maybe? I made a huge mistake... you read my letter," Harry said, taking his cuppa and sipping thoughtfully. "Er, w-what did you think of it?"
"The letter?" the blond asked calmly.
"Er, yes."
"It put things into a new perspective," Draco said, shrugging before sipping his own cup of tea. "It doesn't change anything though."
"Nothing can change the past. I'm only hoping for the future... if you'll let me."
"Potter," Draco began slowly, "you've hurt me. You were a completely insensitive bastard about it and apologising or admitting the mistake doesn't change either of those facts. It doesn't take the hurt away. It doesn't heal wounds. I don't think I could give you exactly what you're looking for."
"Oh," Harry said, looking immediately crestfallen but trying to hide it.
"But that doesn't mean I won't try," Draco said. "If you meant all the things that you said - and I'm fairly certain you do - then I don't see why I can't try. It'll be slow, Potter. Don't think I can trust you right away again. But it's a start, I think."
Harry's eyes brightened considerably, and he nearly dropped his cup in his excitement, cursing when his sudden movement made him spill hot tea over his fingers.
"Ow! Fuck!" he swore, setting the cup down and blowing at his fingers. Then he looked back at Draco, who was rolling his eyes in an exasperated manner. "Wait, you really mean that? You'll give us a chance?"
"Yes, Potter, I think I will. Even if you don't quite deserve it."
"Harry."
Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Call me Harry," the dark-haired wizard said, almost shyly.
"Right, Harry," Draco replied, offering him the smallest of smiles.
Draco wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, and he wasn't sure if he would regret it. But his greatest adversary, Voldemort, was dead. That allowed him somewhat of a new start. And if he could make a mistake and get a chance at life again, why couldn't the Wizarding Hero? After all, it wasn't a measure of whether they did or didn't deserve another chance. It was their willingness to start anew and to attempt to forget their own dark pasts. There would be challenges ahead, Draco was sure of it, but if he could face the Dark Lord and survive, he was sure to overcome anything. And perhaps one day... one day, his wounds would heal, and he would be able to love and trust with the whole of his heart again. But for now, he would take things one step at a time.