Newfound Light (Part 2/2)
Dear Harry,
I know you might not want to hear from me, might not even get far into this letter once you see it’s from me, if Nick didn’t already tell you. But I have to try, even if it’s for nothing.
I’m so sorry for the way things have gone. I’ve played that last conversation over and over in my head, and only now can I think of things I should have said. You asked if I ever notice anything about you. Of course I did-I do. I know more about you than I know about anyone else.
I know you still worry about people, even if they tell you they’re fine. I know how much you value your friends-more than most people value their families. I know that investing in that silly joke shop means more to you than most people could guess. I know the way you murmur in your sleep if your dreams are unpleasant, and that you never, no matter the temperature, sleep with your feet under the blankets. I know that after a long day, what you want is quiet and a soft touch until you unwind.
And I thought I knew that we had something good together. I do hope I’m not wrong about that. Am I?
You know where to find me if you want to tell me I’m not wrong (and oh, how I hope you do). If we happen to run into one another, give me your answer. If it’s a time where conversation isn’t an option, just… smile, and tug on your ear. If I am wrong, don’t do anything. And then I’ll know.
Yours,
Draco
Harry swallowed hard and opened the second letter. The writing was sharp and jagged, though still distinctively Draco’s.
Potter-
You don’t have to worry about another letter after this one. I got your meaning, loud and clear. Thank you for letting me know that I was, in fact, incorrect in my assumptions. It couldn’t have been any clearer, really. Sorry for wasting your time.
-Malfoy
Harry clutched the letters in his hand, wrinkling the thick, expensive paper. So many thoughts hit him at once, and he felt a little light-headed. So this is why Draco had looked so cold. He’d thought-he’d thought Harry had decided that they were better off not being together. If only he’d gotten that first letter.
The first letter. It had thrown everything into sharp relief. Draco had noticed. He had made an effort. Harry supposed he should have known. There were examples scattered throughout their relationship, but he’d been too stupid to see them, focused instead on what he expected from Draco, from a relationship in general, as if he was some sort of expert on either. He listed a few of them in his head. The offer to meet for ice cream and sleep over. The bubble bath. The agreement to go to that concert, and then staying through till the end, even though he obviously didn’t want to. Knowing through some sort of instinct what Harry’s favourite flavour of ice cream was. Buying desserts for the Weasleys. And picking out a present for Luna’s birthday, going on only the things Harry had mentioned about her in passing. There were dozens of other little things, and Harry thought about what Hermione had told him only yesterday. He’d been so stupid. But maybe it wasn’t too late.
He nearly ran from the pub, making his way to Draco’s building within minutes. He took the lift up to the third floor, waiting impatiently. Apparating wouldn’t have been quick enough for his tastes. He slowed as he approached Draco’s flat, trying to catch his breath. He was suddenly sure Malfoy wouldn’t open the door. There was no way for him to know who was on the other side of the door, no peephole or buzzer, and yet Harry was still sure. He sent up a desperate little wish to Merlin that he at least got a chance to see Draco and knocked on the door.
After a few moments, he heard movement behind the door, and the sound of locks being turned. Draco opened the door slowly, and after it was open, Harry moved in front of the opening where he could be seen. Draco blinked, and Harry caught surprise and desperation and hope on that face in the split second before it froze over and turned hostile. But there had been something there. True emotion. This was what he’d expected to see when he’d run into Draco at Florean’s, just a hint that Draco was affected. The cold reflection was a shield, but a thin, brittle one. If he could just melt it a little more… Maybe… Maybe he could fix this. “Draco, wait.”
“What is it you want, Potter?” The words were icy and venomous, the voice of young Draco back at Hogwarts. The tone cut through him, but he ignored that pain.
“I just want to talk to you.”
“Then you’ll just have to keep on wanting. There’s nothing further I have to say to you.” He started to shut the door on Harry, but Harry wasn’t having any of that. This was too damned important. He stuck his foot in the doorway, wincing as Draco attempted to shut it anyway. “I’d like you to leave.”
Harry thrust the letters into his face. “I want to talk about these.”
Draco paused, eyes fixed on the pieces of paper. “Why? Why now?”
“Because I only got them tonight. Twenty minutes ago. I’d never seen them before that. Just… Please, let me in.”
Slowly, Draco opened the door. He didn’t invite Harry in, but he stepped out of the way as Harry entered the dark flat. “You’re in. Now what?”
Taking a deep breath, Harry rustled the letters again. “Your letter. The first one. I understand. I thought that you weren’t trying, that our relationship was just something to do. I had all these expectations, and I thought I knew best, but… I was wrong.” That phrase had always been so hard to say, but there was no way to make this work without admitting it.
“You were, were you?” Draco’s eyes were still cold, made harder by the lack of light in the room, but Harry thought he saw something else behind them.
“I was. I’m sorry for what I said to you as I left. It was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it. I was just so frustrated. I had hoped that I could show you that you didn’t need to hide, and that we could have so much together if you’d just try harder to get out into the world. I thought that…that I could be enough for you at first, and then I tried pushing you further. Telling you to spend time with friends. Dragging you out to functions and gatherings. It was so maddening that you wouldn’t just open up.”
“It’s not that I won’t open up, Potter. It’s that I can’t. I’m not even sure I know how to, anymore.”
“See, that’s where we’re both wrong. You had been, all along, and I just didn’t see it, because it wasn’t what I thought I wanted from you. I love you, but I’ve been too stubborn to let that matter.” He waited for Draco to say something, but there was no response. He couldn’t even see his face properly in the dark. And he had admitted his feelings for the other man, even going as far to say that he loved him, and this was how it went? He’d held onto the hope that this was something he could fix, especially after reading that first letter, but if Draco didn’t even care that he’d laid his soul bare in front of him, then it really was a lost cause. He needed to look into those eyes and know that it was over. No more guessing. “Lumos.”
“Nox,” was the immediate, husky reply, and the light went out before Harry could see anything. He took that to mean that his apology was too late and let out a shaky sigh. He had tried.
Before he got anywhere in the dark, one of Draco’s hands grabbed Harry’s wrist. Lips found his, desperate and questing, and Harry returned the kiss, tasting the salt of Draco’s tears and the sweetness of his passion. Draco’s kisses had always been more expressive than his words, and Harry felt as if he might drown in this one. There was forgiveness and urgency, and threaded throughout that, something that Harry could only hope was love. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, never would be, but that was alright. It was the little things that defined it, and Harry could now see those in an entirely different light-newfound light, as some might say.
I know you might not want to hear from me, might not even get far into this letter once you see it’s from me, if Nick didn’t already tell you. But I have to try, even if it’s for nothing.
I’m so sorry for the way things have gone. I’ve played that last conversation over and over in my head, and only now can I think of things I should have said. You asked if I ever notice anything about you. Of course I did-I do. I know more about you than I know about anyone else.
I know you still worry about people, even if they tell you they’re fine. I know how much you value your friends-more than most people value their families. I know that investing in that silly joke shop means more to you than most people could guess. I know the way you murmur in your sleep if your dreams are unpleasant, and that you never, no matter the temperature, sleep with your feet under the blankets. I know that after a long day, what you want is quiet and a soft touch until you unwind.
And I thought I knew that we had something good together. I do hope I’m not wrong about that. Am I?
You know where to find me if you want to tell me I’m not wrong (and oh, how I hope you do). If we happen to run into one another, give me your answer. If it’s a time where conversation isn’t an option, just… smile, and tug on your ear. If I am wrong, don’t do anything. And then I’ll know.
Yours,
Draco
Harry swallowed hard and opened the second letter. The writing was sharp and jagged, though still distinctively Draco’s.
Potter-
You don’t have to worry about another letter after this one. I got your meaning, loud and clear. Thank you for letting me know that I was, in fact, incorrect in my assumptions. It couldn’t have been any clearer, really. Sorry for wasting your time.
-Malfoy
Harry clutched the letters in his hand, wrinkling the thick, expensive paper. So many thoughts hit him at once, and he felt a little light-headed. So this is why Draco had looked so cold. He’d thought-he’d thought Harry had decided that they were better off not being together. If only he’d gotten that first letter.
The first letter. It had thrown everything into sharp relief. Draco had noticed. He had made an effort. Harry supposed he should have known. There were examples scattered throughout their relationship, but he’d been too stupid to see them, focused instead on what he expected from Draco, from a relationship in general, as if he was some sort of expert on either. He listed a few of them in his head. The offer to meet for ice cream and sleep over. The bubble bath. The agreement to go to that concert, and then staying through till the end, even though he obviously didn’t want to. Knowing through some sort of instinct what Harry’s favourite flavour of ice cream was. Buying desserts for the Weasleys. And picking out a present for Luna’s birthday, going on only the things Harry had mentioned about her in passing. There were dozens of other little things, and Harry thought about what Hermione had told him only yesterday. He’d been so stupid. But maybe it wasn’t too late.
He nearly ran from the pub, making his way to Draco’s building within minutes. He took the lift up to the third floor, waiting impatiently. Apparating wouldn’t have been quick enough for his tastes. He slowed as he approached Draco’s flat, trying to catch his breath. He was suddenly sure Malfoy wouldn’t open the door. There was no way for him to know who was on the other side of the door, no peephole or buzzer, and yet Harry was still sure. He sent up a desperate little wish to Merlin that he at least got a chance to see Draco and knocked on the door.
After a few moments, he heard movement behind the door, and the sound of locks being turned. Draco opened the door slowly, and after it was open, Harry moved in front of the opening where he could be seen. Draco blinked, and Harry caught surprise and desperation and hope on that face in the split second before it froze over and turned hostile. But there had been something there. True emotion. This was what he’d expected to see when he’d run into Draco at Florean’s, just a hint that Draco was affected. The cold reflection was a shield, but a thin, brittle one. If he could just melt it a little more… Maybe… Maybe he could fix this. “Draco, wait.”
“What is it you want, Potter?” The words were icy and venomous, the voice of young Draco back at Hogwarts. The tone cut through him, but he ignored that pain.
“I just want to talk to you.”
“Then you’ll just have to keep on wanting. There’s nothing further I have to say to you.” He started to shut the door on Harry, but Harry wasn’t having any of that. This was too damned important. He stuck his foot in the doorway, wincing as Draco attempted to shut it anyway. “I’d like you to leave.”
Harry thrust the letters into his face. “I want to talk about these.”
Draco paused, eyes fixed on the pieces of paper. “Why? Why now?”
“Because I only got them tonight. Twenty minutes ago. I’d never seen them before that. Just… Please, let me in.”
Slowly, Draco opened the door. He didn’t invite Harry in, but he stepped out of the way as Harry entered the dark flat. “You’re in. Now what?”
Taking a deep breath, Harry rustled the letters again. “Your letter. The first one. I understand. I thought that you weren’t trying, that our relationship was just something to do. I had all these expectations, and I thought I knew best, but… I was wrong.” That phrase had always been so hard to say, but there was no way to make this work without admitting it.
“You were, were you?” Draco’s eyes were still cold, made harder by the lack of light in the room, but Harry thought he saw something else behind them.
“I was. I’m sorry for what I said to you as I left. It was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it. I was just so frustrated. I had hoped that I could show you that you didn’t need to hide, and that we could have so much together if you’d just try harder to get out into the world. I thought that…that I could be enough for you at first, and then I tried pushing you further. Telling you to spend time with friends. Dragging you out to functions and gatherings. It was so maddening that you wouldn’t just open up.”
“It’s not that I won’t open up, Potter. It’s that I can’t. I’m not even sure I know how to, anymore.”
“See, that’s where we’re both wrong. You had been, all along, and I just didn’t see it, because it wasn’t what I thought I wanted from you. I love you, but I’ve been too stubborn to let that matter.” He waited for Draco to say something, but there was no response. He couldn’t even see his face properly in the dark. And he had admitted his feelings for the other man, even going as far to say that he loved him, and this was how it went? He’d held onto the hope that this was something he could fix, especially after reading that first letter, but if Draco didn’t even care that he’d laid his soul bare in front of him, then it really was a lost cause. He needed to look into those eyes and know that it was over. No more guessing. “Lumos.”
“Nox,” was the immediate, husky reply, and the light went out before Harry could see anything. He took that to mean that his apology was too late and let out a shaky sigh. He had tried.
Before he got anywhere in the dark, one of Draco’s hands grabbed Harry’s wrist. Lips found his, desperate and questing, and Harry returned the kiss, tasting the salt of Draco’s tears and the sweetness of his passion. Draco’s kisses had always been more expressive than his words, and Harry felt as if he might drown in this one. There was forgiveness and urgency, and threaded throughout that, something that Harry could only hope was love. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, never would be, but that was alright. It was the little things that defined it, and Harry could now see those in an entirely different light-newfound light, as some might say.