Harry/Draco - Unlovable - One Shot - PG-13
Title: Unloveable
Author: screaminglungs
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 2557
Summary: Harry has been moping over Draco for three months and Hermione has just about had enough.
Author's Note: Title stolen from The Smiths. Beta read by the lovely kcstories
He couldn’t bear it. It was taking him all the energy he possessed to try and maintain a normal composure and he was still failing miserably.
Every day it seemed to get harder. The next person to offer him the feeble line of “time is a healer” in an attempt to make him feel better would be sorry. As a way to distract himself, he had been thinking of hexes he could use. The rational half of his brain knew that his friends and family members (namely Molly Weasley) meant well. He just wasn’t ready to move on; not just yet. Moving on meant dealing with issues he was far from ready to face. Maybe if he were around him more, a few questions he wanted to be answered would be, but as it was, much was left unresolved.
Everywhere he went, he looked for him without even consciously realising he was doing so. Even when he knew there was absolutely no chance of him appearing, his green eyes would light up with a hopeful glint as doors creaked open and distant voices approached. There was always hope. When elevator doors opened unexpectedly, he would look up hoping to see the familiar flash of blond hair or grey eyes. After three months, he was still left disappointed. He was always left disappointed.
He sat at his desk, feet propped up on the dark mahogany wood, while he absentmindedly chewed on the end of a quill. He was staring into space, which seemed to be his favoured pastime of late. He no longer found any motivation or satisfaction in a job he once loved, and he was no longer finding it easy to hide. He’d grown distant from colleagues he had once considered friends. There were no longer knocks at his office door, no more offers of lunch dates, no Firecalls to see if he wanted to go out to dinner. There was only silence; the silence he found himself sitting in, ignoring the piles of files steadily growing on his desk.
He could barely muster the energy to look up as Hermione stormed into the room, slamming the door behind her.
“This has got to stop, right now!” She bellowed as she crossed the spacious room towards him.
“Good afternoon to you too,” he muttered without facing her.
“Do not ‘good afternoon’ me, Harry James Potter. I am not in the mood! How dare you speak to Ron like you did this morning?”
“Fighting all his battles for him now are you, Mrs. Weasley?” He snapped but still refused to look up at her.
“Fuck off, Harry! You may get away with this with other people but you won’t with me so don’t bother!” This time he did look up and was met with a furious face.
“Can’t you see he’s trying to help you, you self-centred bastard!” She screeched, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how much like Molly she already sounded. It really was high time she and Ron moved out of the Burrow and into their own place.
“Self-centred?” He couldn’t quite contain the chuckle he was holding back, but he knew his face had broken into a sarcastic grin he had definitely picked up from Malfoy.
“Yes! I never thought I would have to say this to you, Harry, but the world doesn’t revolve around you!” She snapped.
“Haven’t you heard, Hermione? I’m Harry bloody Potter; the world does revolve around me,” he drawled in a way that would have made Draco proud had he been around to hear it.
“Don’t be so immature,” Hermione smirked and took a seat across from him at his desk. Her anger had dissipated but she still held him with that piercing glare she also used on small children when they were naughty.
“Hermione, I didn’t mean to be a bastard to Ron, alright. I’m just sick of everyone trying to make me feel better about this. I don’t care. I just want to be miserable.” He knew he could be totally honest with her.
“I know, but it’s been- Harry, it’s been three months.” Hermione sighed tiredly as she counted off the months on her fingers.
“You’re telling me that if Ron left you right now that you wouldn’t still miss him in three months?”
“Well, that’s different. We’re married and we’re going to spend…”
“The rest of your lives together?” Harry gave her a knowing look.
“Well, yes.” Hermione blushed, understanding Harry’s point.
“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Draco, Hermione,” Harry stated plainly before turning his chair and staring wistfully out of the window. Sometimes it hurt to even mention his name.
“Then why don’t you do something about it?” Hermione snapped.
Harry turned to face her, hoping he looked as tired as he felt. “Do you think I haven’t tried? It’s not like he’s dead, Hermione. He works two offices down from mine. I used to see him every day and its killing me knowing he's there but that he's avoiding me completely,” Harry sighed.
“You cheated on him.”
The silence that followed lay between them as they stared at one another for a short time. It was a plain fact. Harry had cheated on Draco, just once. They’d had a fight, and Harry had gotten drunk and pushed Seamus Finnegan against a wall. Draco had happened to see them and hadn’t spoken to him since.
“I know. I think about it every day. The thought of what I’ve done makes me feel sick to my stomach. I loathe myself,” Harry rambled on.
“That’s all very well, but what are you going to do about it?” Hermione replied unsympathetically and Harry stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.
“Going to do? He told me it was over; he told me he doesn’t want to see me anymore; he told me he hated me and couldn’t fucking look at me! What do you want me to do, Hermione? It’s over.” Harry’s voice cracked.
“If you really wanted him, then you’d be there every day, sitting on his doorstep if needs be, making him listen to you. You’d be Owling him at every available opportunity, telling him what an utter prat you’ve been, you’d be barricading yourself to his office door so he had no choice but to listen, but oh no, you’re sitting here and moping instead. Maybe Draco really is better off without you,” Hermione snapped and stood from where she sat in front of him.
“Hermione!” Harry sounded aghast.
“I’m sorry Harry, but honestly, you’re being pathetic. You did this and yet you’ve given up on trying to solve the situation. You’re not the man I thought you were.” Hermione stared at him with a scathing glare before turning on her heel and walking from the room.
Maybe she was right, he pondered as he reached for a spare piece of parchment.
Dear Draco,
I miss you, I love you and I’m so sorry. Can we please talk?
Harry
Harry smiled to himself. That was better than nothing.
Potter,
Go fuck yourself.
Malfoy
Harry growled and threw the note he’d received (written on the back of the note he’d sent) into the waste paper basket.
Draco,
I don’t know what to say to you to make up for what I’ve done. Can we please talk so I can try and apologise?
Harry
Harry sat on his sofa. This was the third note he was sending Draco that day. The previous two had been returned unopened and with no reply. He didn’t expect the reaction to this one to be any different, but Hermione was right; he couldn’t give up.
Potter,
No amount of words or number of apologies could ever make up for what you did; now kindly leave me the hell alone!
Malfoy
Harry sighed, and gave up for the day.
Dear Draco,
I know I’ve hurt you, but I would give anything just to talk to you, to see you, so that I can tell you that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.
Lots of undying love,
Harry
Harry hoped that this time Draco would believe that he was sincere.
Potter,
How dare you presume to tell me what you know about my hurt! You have no idea what I’ve been going through, or how much it hurt to see you with that bastard. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life doing anything for me; I just want you to leave me alone!
Malfoy
Harry sighed heavily and laid his head on his desk. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.
Dear Draco,
It’s been two weeks since I last saw you around the office and other than a few Owls, I have no idea how you’ve been. If it’s anything like how I’ve been feeling then you’ve been awful, but then I deserve it, you don’t.
I know that what I did was inexcusable, but I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I was angry and upset and tired of fighting with you, so I got drunk and I got stupid and I made the biggest mistake of my life.
Every day since you left me I’ve woken up and rolled over to find you gone and I’ve felt like my soul has broken a little more each time because I’ve done this. It’s my own fault. I am to blame. The worst thing is, I know there is nothing I can do; no amount of pretty words or stupid gifts is going to make this better because I’ve ruined this, for good.
I honestly thought that I could send you a few Owls and we’d talk and solve this, but I realise now that I’ve only been deluding myself; I’ve just been selfish and well, I’m not going to be anymore.
I honestly hope you’re happy with whatever you do with yourself. I love you.
With all my love,
Harry Potter
Harry sighed heavily and took a long sip from his glass of Scotch. He’d tried.
Harry had no idea where Draco was staying and none of his friends, assuming they knew, would tell him either.
He hadn’t so much as seen a glimpse of Draco at work in the last two weeks he’d managed to avoid Harry, or maybe he just wasn’t there. Harry didn’t know what else to do, and maybe he should just listen to Draco and leave him the hell alone.
It must have been several hours later when Harry woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. He jerked to an upright position and flinched when his neck seized up. He clambered to his feet as the pounding continued and he wandered out into the hallway. He yanked open the door, ready to shout at whoever had awoken him, but was stunned to find Draco standing there, clutching his latest letter. They stared at each other in silence for several moments.
“You look like shit, Potter,” Draco growled before pushing past him into their house. Harry stared after him in shock before closing the door behind him and joining Draco in the living room.
“Love what you’ve done with the place since I left.” Draco sneered as he examined the many empty teacups and plates littering the coffee table.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked wearily. As glad as he was to have Draco standing in their living room, the clock on the mantel told him that it was 3am and he felt exhausted to the bone.
“What are you doing, sending me stuff like this in the middle of the night, Harry? Huh? You have no fucking right to send me shit like this! Do you want me to feel sorry for you? Oh, poor, cheating Harry Potter!” Draco snarled and threw the piece of parchment to the floor between them, like a gauntlet.
“I never asked you to feel sorry for me; I don’t think you could if you tried! I was saying goodbye, you shit! You don’t want anything more to do with me! No matter how many times I’ve tried to find you or Owl you since you left! I’m fucking tired!” Harry bellowed and actually shocked Draco into silence. Only the sound of Harry’s heavy breathing could still be heard.
“What did you expect, Harry? You kissed him! You kissed someone else, right in front of me!”
“Yes Draco, I kissed Seamus. I didn’t fuck him. I haven’t had some torrid affair for months. It was a stupid fucking kiss, a spur of the moment kiss, because I was sick of feeling like you didn’t want me anymore. I was sick of coming home and arguing with you every single day, about nothing! All of our fights were about nothing and I just wanted to feel something, anything that wasn’t hurt!”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to understand! I know you hate me, and that’s fine; you can hate me all you want, but I need you to understand!” Harry grabbed Draco’s elbows and the blond shook him off.
“I don’t want to understand and I don’t care why you did it. You shouldn’t have,” Draco snapped.
“I know that, of course I know that!” Harry snapped right back.
“I love you, you know, despite all the fighting and everything, and for you to go and do that; it was just a slap in the face.” Draco sighed wearily and finally sat down on the sofa. Harry quickly joined him.
“Draco, I never would have done that if I was sober. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing and I think you know that,” Harry said sadly.
“I just can’t stop thinking about it, about you being with someone else, it’s maddening,” Draco whispered.
“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Harry tentatively reached out for Draco’s hand and was gratified when it wasn’t shaken off.
“It just hurt.”
“Draco, I’ve seen you kiss Pansy more passionately,” Harry chuckled, hoping that if he made light of the situation then maybe Draco might as well.
“Pansy doesn’t count; she has a vagina,” Draco sighed and managed a weak smile.
“I know. I just wish we could move past this,” Harry sighed.
“We can. It’s just going to take some time, is all,” Draco entwined his fingers with Harry’s.
“Will you come home?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Harry turned to Draco and smiled softly.
“Can I kiss you?” Harry whispered and Draco nodded. Harry leaned in and pressed their lips together chastely, before running his tongue along the seam of Draco’s lips, making the blond whimper and open up. Soon they were kissing passionately with Draco pressed back into the couch cushions. Draco finally pulled away and looked up into Harry’s eyes.
“That’s kissing, Draco, filled with love and lust and passion. I’ll never kiss anyone in that way but you, I promise. Never again,” Harry reassured him, and finally Draco smiled.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Draco whispered and took Harry’s hand as the raven haired man pulled him to his feet.
“I love you, Draco,” Harry whispered.
“Likewise, Potter.” Draco grinned and followed Harry upstairs.
Author: screaminglungs
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 2557
Summary: Harry has been moping over Draco for three months and Hermione has just about had enough.
Author's Note: Title stolen from The Smiths. Beta read by the lovely kcstories
He couldn’t bear it. It was taking him all the energy he possessed to try and maintain a normal composure and he was still failing miserably.
Every day it seemed to get harder. The next person to offer him the feeble line of “time is a healer” in an attempt to make him feel better would be sorry. As a way to distract himself, he had been thinking of hexes he could use. The rational half of his brain knew that his friends and family members (namely Molly Weasley) meant well. He just wasn’t ready to move on; not just yet. Moving on meant dealing with issues he was far from ready to face. Maybe if he were around him more, a few questions he wanted to be answered would be, but as it was, much was left unresolved.
Everywhere he went, he looked for him without even consciously realising he was doing so. Even when he knew there was absolutely no chance of him appearing, his green eyes would light up with a hopeful glint as doors creaked open and distant voices approached. There was always hope. When elevator doors opened unexpectedly, he would look up hoping to see the familiar flash of blond hair or grey eyes. After three months, he was still left disappointed. He was always left disappointed.
He sat at his desk, feet propped up on the dark mahogany wood, while he absentmindedly chewed on the end of a quill. He was staring into space, which seemed to be his favoured pastime of late. He no longer found any motivation or satisfaction in a job he once loved, and he was no longer finding it easy to hide. He’d grown distant from colleagues he had once considered friends. There were no longer knocks at his office door, no more offers of lunch dates, no Firecalls to see if he wanted to go out to dinner. There was only silence; the silence he found himself sitting in, ignoring the piles of files steadily growing on his desk.
He could barely muster the energy to look up as Hermione stormed into the room, slamming the door behind her.
“This has got to stop, right now!” She bellowed as she crossed the spacious room towards him.
“Good afternoon to you too,” he muttered without facing her.
“Do not ‘good afternoon’ me, Harry James Potter. I am not in the mood! How dare you speak to Ron like you did this morning?”
“Fighting all his battles for him now are you, Mrs. Weasley?” He snapped but still refused to look up at her.
“Fuck off, Harry! You may get away with this with other people but you won’t with me so don’t bother!” This time he did look up and was met with a furious face.
“Can’t you see he’s trying to help you, you self-centred bastard!” She screeched, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how much like Molly she already sounded. It really was high time she and Ron moved out of the Burrow and into their own place.
“Self-centred?” He couldn’t quite contain the chuckle he was holding back, but he knew his face had broken into a sarcastic grin he had definitely picked up from Malfoy.
“Yes! I never thought I would have to say this to you, Harry, but the world doesn’t revolve around you!” She snapped.
“Haven’t you heard, Hermione? I’m Harry bloody Potter; the world does revolve around me,” he drawled in a way that would have made Draco proud had he been around to hear it.
“Don’t be so immature,” Hermione smirked and took a seat across from him at his desk. Her anger had dissipated but she still held him with that piercing glare she also used on small children when they were naughty.
“Hermione, I didn’t mean to be a bastard to Ron, alright. I’m just sick of everyone trying to make me feel better about this. I don’t care. I just want to be miserable.” He knew he could be totally honest with her.
“I know, but it’s been- Harry, it’s been three months.” Hermione sighed tiredly as she counted off the months on her fingers.
“You’re telling me that if Ron left you right now that you wouldn’t still miss him in three months?”
“Well, that’s different. We’re married and we’re going to spend…”
“The rest of your lives together?” Harry gave her a knowing look.
“Well, yes.” Hermione blushed, understanding Harry’s point.
“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Draco, Hermione,” Harry stated plainly before turning his chair and staring wistfully out of the window. Sometimes it hurt to even mention his name.
“Then why don’t you do something about it?” Hermione snapped.
Harry turned to face her, hoping he looked as tired as he felt. “Do you think I haven’t tried? It’s not like he’s dead, Hermione. He works two offices down from mine. I used to see him every day and its killing me knowing he's there but that he's avoiding me completely,” Harry sighed.
“You cheated on him.”
The silence that followed lay between them as they stared at one another for a short time. It was a plain fact. Harry had cheated on Draco, just once. They’d had a fight, and Harry had gotten drunk and pushed Seamus Finnegan against a wall. Draco had happened to see them and hadn’t spoken to him since.
“I know. I think about it every day. The thought of what I’ve done makes me feel sick to my stomach. I loathe myself,” Harry rambled on.
“That’s all very well, but what are you going to do about it?” Hermione replied unsympathetically and Harry stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.
“Going to do? He told me it was over; he told me he doesn’t want to see me anymore; he told me he hated me and couldn’t fucking look at me! What do you want me to do, Hermione? It’s over.” Harry’s voice cracked.
“If you really wanted him, then you’d be there every day, sitting on his doorstep if needs be, making him listen to you. You’d be Owling him at every available opportunity, telling him what an utter prat you’ve been, you’d be barricading yourself to his office door so he had no choice but to listen, but oh no, you’re sitting here and moping instead. Maybe Draco really is better off without you,” Hermione snapped and stood from where she sat in front of him.
“Hermione!” Harry sounded aghast.
“I’m sorry Harry, but honestly, you’re being pathetic. You did this and yet you’ve given up on trying to solve the situation. You’re not the man I thought you were.” Hermione stared at him with a scathing glare before turning on her heel and walking from the room.
Maybe she was right, he pondered as he reached for a spare piece of parchment.
Dear Draco,
I miss you, I love you and I’m so sorry. Can we please talk?
Harry
Harry smiled to himself. That was better than nothing.
Potter,
Go fuck yourself.
Malfoy
Harry growled and threw the note he’d received (written on the back of the note he’d sent) into the waste paper basket.
Draco,
I don’t know what to say to you to make up for what I’ve done. Can we please talk so I can try and apologise?
Harry
Harry sat on his sofa. This was the third note he was sending Draco that day. The previous two had been returned unopened and with no reply. He didn’t expect the reaction to this one to be any different, but Hermione was right; he couldn’t give up.
Potter,
No amount of words or number of apologies could ever make up for what you did; now kindly leave me the hell alone!
Malfoy
Harry sighed, and gave up for the day.
Dear Draco,
I know I’ve hurt you, but I would give anything just to talk to you, to see you, so that I can tell you that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.
Lots of undying love,
Harry
Harry hoped that this time Draco would believe that he was sincere.
Potter,
How dare you presume to tell me what you know about my hurt! You have no idea what I’ve been going through, or how much it hurt to see you with that bastard. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life doing anything for me; I just want you to leave me alone!
Malfoy
Harry sighed heavily and laid his head on his desk. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.
Dear Draco,
It’s been two weeks since I last saw you around the office and other than a few Owls, I have no idea how you’ve been. If it’s anything like how I’ve been feeling then you’ve been awful, but then I deserve it, you don’t.
I know that what I did was inexcusable, but I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I was angry and upset and tired of fighting with you, so I got drunk and I got stupid and I made the biggest mistake of my life.
Every day since you left me I’ve woken up and rolled over to find you gone and I’ve felt like my soul has broken a little more each time because I’ve done this. It’s my own fault. I am to blame. The worst thing is, I know there is nothing I can do; no amount of pretty words or stupid gifts is going to make this better because I’ve ruined this, for good.
I honestly thought that I could send you a few Owls and we’d talk and solve this, but I realise now that I’ve only been deluding myself; I’ve just been selfish and well, I’m not going to be anymore.
I honestly hope you’re happy with whatever you do with yourself. I love you.
With all my love,
Harry Potter
Harry sighed heavily and took a long sip from his glass of Scotch. He’d tried.
Harry had no idea where Draco was staying and none of his friends, assuming they knew, would tell him either.
He hadn’t so much as seen a glimpse of Draco at work in the last two weeks he’d managed to avoid Harry, or maybe he just wasn’t there. Harry didn’t know what else to do, and maybe he should just listen to Draco and leave him the hell alone.
It must have been several hours later when Harry woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. He jerked to an upright position and flinched when his neck seized up. He clambered to his feet as the pounding continued and he wandered out into the hallway. He yanked open the door, ready to shout at whoever had awoken him, but was stunned to find Draco standing there, clutching his latest letter. They stared at each other in silence for several moments.
“You look like shit, Potter,” Draco growled before pushing past him into their house. Harry stared after him in shock before closing the door behind him and joining Draco in the living room.
“Love what you’ve done with the place since I left.” Draco sneered as he examined the many empty teacups and plates littering the coffee table.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked wearily. As glad as he was to have Draco standing in their living room, the clock on the mantel told him that it was 3am and he felt exhausted to the bone.
“What are you doing, sending me stuff like this in the middle of the night, Harry? Huh? You have no fucking right to send me shit like this! Do you want me to feel sorry for you? Oh, poor, cheating Harry Potter!” Draco snarled and threw the piece of parchment to the floor between them, like a gauntlet.
“I never asked you to feel sorry for me; I don’t think you could if you tried! I was saying goodbye, you shit! You don’t want anything more to do with me! No matter how many times I’ve tried to find you or Owl you since you left! I’m fucking tired!” Harry bellowed and actually shocked Draco into silence. Only the sound of Harry’s heavy breathing could still be heard.
“What did you expect, Harry? You kissed him! You kissed someone else, right in front of me!”
“Yes Draco, I kissed Seamus. I didn’t fuck him. I haven’t had some torrid affair for months. It was a stupid fucking kiss, a spur of the moment kiss, because I was sick of feeling like you didn’t want me anymore. I was sick of coming home and arguing with you every single day, about nothing! All of our fights were about nothing and I just wanted to feel something, anything that wasn’t hurt!”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to understand! I know you hate me, and that’s fine; you can hate me all you want, but I need you to understand!” Harry grabbed Draco’s elbows and the blond shook him off.
“I don’t want to understand and I don’t care why you did it. You shouldn’t have,” Draco snapped.
“I know that, of course I know that!” Harry snapped right back.
“I love you, you know, despite all the fighting and everything, and for you to go and do that; it was just a slap in the face.” Draco sighed wearily and finally sat down on the sofa. Harry quickly joined him.
“Draco, I never would have done that if I was sober. I honestly didn’t know what I was doing and I think you know that,” Harry said sadly.
“I just can’t stop thinking about it, about you being with someone else, it’s maddening,” Draco whispered.
“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Harry tentatively reached out for Draco’s hand and was gratified when it wasn’t shaken off.
“It just hurt.”
“Draco, I’ve seen you kiss Pansy more passionately,” Harry chuckled, hoping that if he made light of the situation then maybe Draco might as well.
“Pansy doesn’t count; she has a vagina,” Draco sighed and managed a weak smile.
“I know. I just wish we could move past this,” Harry sighed.
“We can. It’s just going to take some time, is all,” Draco entwined his fingers with Harry’s.
“Will you come home?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Harry turned to Draco and smiled softly.
“Can I kiss you?” Harry whispered and Draco nodded. Harry leaned in and pressed their lips together chastely, before running his tongue along the seam of Draco’s lips, making the blond whimper and open up. Soon they were kissing passionately with Draco pressed back into the couch cushions. Draco finally pulled away and looked up into Harry’s eyes.
“That’s kissing, Draco, filled with love and lust and passion. I’ll never kiss anyone in that way but you, I promise. Never again,” Harry reassured him, and finally Draco smiled.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Draco whispered and took Harry’s hand as the raven haired man pulled him to his feet.
“I love you, Draco,” Harry whispered.
“Likewise, Potter.” Draco grinned and followed Harry upstairs.