Falling To Pieces
Title: Falling To Pieces
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/General
Length: 2956
Pairings: Harry/Draco. Mentions of Harry/Neville, Pansy/Draco, Pansy/Blaise.
Summary: Harry was supposed to run back to him, but he never did.
Note: For strigoia who wanted them to break up and Draco to pine while Harry moves on. Hopefully you like it, love. ♥
Huge thank you to my hero lire_casander for providing the small translation!
Harry tried untangling but Draco held fast, trailing his tongue down Harry's neck, nipping slightly. Harry moaned and arched his back. Yet he still tried to back away. The idiot.
"You taste so good," Draco muttered, laving at his Adam's apple.
"Draco," Harry panted. "I told you I needed to talk to you. Can't you -- Mmm -- keep your hands to yourself?"
Huffing, Draco pulled away and sat on the nearest desk. If Severus knew what they did in his room... That thought always made Draco grin maliciously. He loved Severus, he was his godfather after all, but lately he liked to go against what his family said.
Take Harry for example.
"Draco."
He raised his eyebrows, smoothing his shirt and slacks. He had quite a hard on. Couldn't Potter just hurry on with it so they could shag? It'd been a week since the last time.
"Well, er, it's very busy right now, hasn't it?" Harry pushed the bridge of his glasses up, hands fluttering down to play with the hem of his jumper.
"What do you mean?" Draco drawled, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs slightly, liking the way the fabric moved over his erection. He did it again.
"I think, maybe, we should, you know..." His grin was strained.
Draco's brow furrowed. "What? If you want to limit our meetings -- dates, sorry," -- because Harry was the one who always called them dates, insisted they were dating -- "let me know. Merlin knows we meet too often," he scoffed.
"No." Harry bowed his head and was silent for so long that Draco was about to stand and continue in his activity of licking Harry to a pile of goo, when Harry's head snapped up, a determined look in his bright green eyes. "I think we should break up."
There wasn't enough air in the classroom.
"I mean," Harry rushed to explain, "you're the son of a Death Eater and I'm Harry Potter. We can't tell anyone about us and we barely get to date anyway. When we do it's just for sex." His voice diminished to a soft whisper. "You don't seem like you want me for me."
And suddenly the air burst into his lungs. Harry figured he didn't care in the way the Harry wanted him to. A grin covered his face, one of those malicious grins he got whenever he was rebelling. "I agree with you."
"You do?" Harry gazed at him with large eyes that seemed to be brimming.
Draco nodded. Harry was so obviously in love with him. "I think a break up is what we need. I mean, it's not like love can conquer war."
With satisfaction he saw he had hit the nail on the head.
Green eyes flashed and Harry was across the short distance, climbing into Draco lap and rubbing against his cock in a most delicious way. "Love can," he insisted. "Love is what's going to win this war, Dumbledore told me. Love and Voldemort can't understand love but I love you, Draco. I take it back, let's not break up. You'll see, love can live a war."
Draco let himself be kissed heatedly for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, Harry, you were right. We need to break up. At least until after the war."
Harry protested and tried to distract Draco with sex but Draco was adamant. As he watched Harry walk about the door, shoulders slouched, he grinned. Harry would be back before he knew it and then he would know that Draco was the one in charge. Harry was the one in love and Draco wasn't so naturally he held all the power.
Three months later Harry disappeared along with the Weasel and Mudblood. Draco hoped he would die. Not because he wanted the Dark Lord to win -- truthfully, he didn't care who won, as long as his parents stayed safe -- but because Harry was supposed to run back to him a long time ago.
The prat hadn't even told him he was leaving. Just up and disappeared one night.
At first Draco knew it was using all of Harry's strength to not go running back because every time Draco sent him a lewd glance his face would flush and he'd press his lips together, averting his green eyes.
Then something had happened. Draco never got all the information. When he asked Harry about it he had been shrugged off. After that incident, marked by a ruddy brown owl carrying a message to Harry, Harry had stopped looking at him. He was always in the library with the Weasel and Mudblood or off who knew where.
Harry would still come back to him though, Draco was positive. There was no way he could be in love with Draco one month then not the next day. He was just preoccupied. After the war he would run back, all pitiful and Draco would scare him, make him think he was over him. Then Harry would know Draco was the one in charge.
Right after the war, no doubt.
"Darling," Pansy started, looking over the brim of her tea. "What's wrong with you?"
Draco blinked, gulping his tea in haste. He scorched his tongue.
"For the past two years you've been falling. Even before that, during the war, you were acting differently, come to think of it. Of course, it was war, I didn't think much about it. But, Draco, I'm worried."
"You're a Slytherin, Pansy, don't be worried," Draco dismissed, waving his absently.
"No!" she yelled, slamming the cup onto the table. Agarwood, goblin-made, expensive, nice, now ruined. Goblin-made never scourgified properly. He reached out and rubbed at the indent. The tea was already cooling. The sensation felt weird. It was warming on his skin, almost like hardening wax but not. The wrinkling feeling was absent.
"Look at you," Pansy muttered, pulling his hand out of the spilled tea. "You're a mess. Maybe no one else noticed -- Blaise sure hasn't. Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't if you told them, but I'm not stupid, Draco. What has happened to turn you like this?"
Draco frowned. He hadn't thought he was acting much differently. It wasn't like Potter could affect him that much. So he didn't go on dates or out with people as much. That was just his personality.
He could have anyone he wanted and he sure as hell didn't want Potter.
"Draco." His name, a plead. She was looking so openly at him, eyes wide with worry. She looked beautiful; Blaise was lucky.
She looked beautiful.
Nary a thought Draco leaned across the table, his bladder pressing painfully into the edge, and kissed her. She gasped and he pushed his tongue in, reaching desperately for what he wasn't sure. But he knew it wasn't there. And why not! Why should Potter be the one who made him feel? Why couldn't Pansy? Both their last names started with a P, they had black hair, and that should be enough because he doesn't love Potter but he loves Pansy.
Nimble fingers grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back so the table wasn't cutting into him. "What's wrong, darling?" She had spit on her chin but she didn't wipe it off. Draco wished she would. It looked disgusting, like what he'd just done.
"I don't love him." He nodded, reassuring himself. "I don't, you know. I don't need the bastard and I sure don't bloody love him!"
"Who?"
"Potter." And he knew he was lying.
Pansy was giving him a questioning look and Draco explained, sitting back in his chair and bringing a hand to rub his forehead.
"You're fit."
Draco turned around. Potter was standing a few feet behind him. His eyes scoured the corridor for who had spoken. Potter was staring at him.
"What?" he snapped.
"I said you're fit." Potter's gaze broke and wavered to the floor. Then it was searching Draco's face.
"What the bloody fuck are you going on about?" This was wasting his time.
Potter moving closer, looking suspiciously like a tiger closing in on its prey. "You're attractive, fit." A beat. "Want to go snog?"
Silence filled the area. Draco stared at the door Potter was pointing to. Potter's face. The door. Potter's face. The inside of his eyelids. All he could say was, "What?"
Potter flushed. "Don't make me repeat again. Once was hard enough." He pushed the bridge of his specs up.
It had to be some kind of joke, prank. "All right." Now he was the one surrounding his prey and oh did it feel good. Potter blinked owlishly at him, head lowered slighting, lashes even lower and -- was he trying to be seductive? Either way he was going about it the wrong way. He wasn't a girl so he simply looked silly.
"I knew you were a poof," Potter whispered, sounding anything but sure of himself. "Knew you would want to."
Draco stopped his front of him, nose to nose. He wished he was taller so he could tower over him. It would make a great image.
"You're so easy to predict," said Potter, letting his head fall back.
Draco stared at the neck offered to him. It was most definitely a joke. Potter didn't expect him to do anything. So that's exactly what he did.
His tongue darted out and trailed up the salty skin. Sweet. He bit Potter's chin, forcing his head straight. Then he smashed their lips together, tongue thrusting through responsive lips and trying to bruise.
Instead of shrieking and running away so Draco could laugh, Potter wrapped around him, hands crawling beneath his trousers. He thrust their hips together and this wasn't supposed to happen. But Potter felt so good and who would have known?
It wasn't until two months later that Potter admitted it hadn't been some joke. That he had been desperate for something, for feelings other than numbness from the war and that Draco had been the one that made him angry so couldn't he make him feel passion?
Pansy was silent for a long time. Then she crawled across the table and held him, as if he was crying, but he wasn't.
She didn't say a word. Draco didn't want her to.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't bloody fair. Potter should have died.
The crumpled Daily Prophet fell to the floor. Who did he think he was, going and getting a boyfriend? Coming out to everyone, not a mention of the one who'd made him realize it. Not a mention of Draco, the person he'd promised to return to after the war.
He had, hadn't he?
"No, Harry, you were right. We need to break up. At least until after the war."
"But I don't think I'll last that long without you."
No, he hadn't said it, had he?
It didn't matter. Draco kicked The Daily Prophet, wishing Potter would disappear along with his precious Longbottom. Who dated a Longbottom anyway? Pathetic.
After that he went on dates.
There was Larry, who played Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. He was a real downer in bed though. Straight up vanilla. Didn't even like anal.
Brian was too flamboyant and open. He considered Draco a fling. They were but that didn't matter. Draco wanted his man smitten.
There was the one with green eyes but his hair was always flawless, more so than Draco's. Needless to say, that one didn't last long (he couldn't even remember the name). His boyfriend could not be more put together than himself.
"And then Sebastian who spoke Spanish. You don't know Spanish. For all you knew he could have been insulting you the whole time. 'Te pareces a mi madre.' Probably 'you're as fat as a pig.'"
"No, fat is gordo, I think. And he did speak English."
"'Shag?' does not constitute as English!" she roared, slamming her fists on the settee's armrest. Draco was glad she didn't have tea in her hands this time. Couldn't risk having to replace the settee too.
"Besides, he had this tousled black hair and --"
"was utterly besotted with you," Pansy said with a sigh. "I know. You can't find Potter through a bunch of losers."
It was the first time she'd spoken of what happened between Potter and him.
"I'm not trying to find Potter."
"Of course not, darling," she said, stroking his hair and using that tone of voice that let him know he wasn't fooling anyone. He wasn't trying to fool anyone.
He wasn't even fooling himself.
The cold permeated his thick robes, chilling his bones and making them rattle. He could almost hear it.
Bloody house elves hadn't kept the tea stocked up and Pansy had forced him out to pick it up at the corner store. Something about him needing fresh air. He had been out just last week, to curse some brats who had been wreaking havoc in his yard. Of course, then he'd had to spend an hour out in the cold strengthening the wards around the house. Now even he had trouble getting in.
"Yeah, yeah, but hurry would you? My arse is going to fall off any second now!"
Potter was standing in front of the corner store doors, waving through the window. He looked the same as back in Hogwarts: hair standing up, eyes green as fresh grass, glasses that looked ridiculous, body as fit as ever.
"Draco?" Potter turned to him, head cocked. "Is that you?"
Draco could only nod dumbly. What was wrong with him? He couldn't have it that bad.
"What have you been up to?"
Draco wasn't aware that he was moving forward until his arms were around Potter's neck and he was kissing him.
A few seconds of Draco plundering his mouth, Potter reacted. His tongue stroked Draco's and he pressed forward until they were fighting for dominance, exactly like before. Draco was lost. All he could taste was Potter -- Harry and he was sweet with some undertone of fruit, maybe apples. He smelled differently, like skin and soap and heat even though it was freezing out.
Eventually Harry pulled back. Draco moved forward but hands grabbed his shoulders, stopping him. Draco glared.
"I can't," he panted, looking over his shoulder and into the store. "I'm dating Neville now, you know."
Draco backed up a step so Harry's hands fell down. It was going to happen. Harry was going to run back, he was. There was no way they could share a kiss that good if Harry didn't want him. "Who cares what you can or can't do," he sneered. "What do you want?"
Harry's eyes closed and he took a deep breath. "Draco, I love Neville."
"But you just kissed me!"
"Correction: You kissed me."
"You kissed me back!"
Harry didn't respond but he had opened his eyes now. They were sweeping over Draco, scrutinizing him. "Oh gods."
Draco pursed his lips. What?
"Oh gods," he repeated. "You...you love me. Don't you?"
"No." But it came out as a whine. A plea. A lie spoken from a pitiful man.
"I'm sorry," Harry started.
Draco backed away, a sneer on his face for appearances, but he knew it was failing. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He shouldn't even have hopes for Harry Potter.
"Draco, wait, I did love you. I did." His eyes were wide and honest and Draco didn't want to hear it. Harry was just going to rub it in that Draco had his chance and he'd missed it. "But now I love Neville."
He was cold and Harry's taste was still on his tongue. Nasty. He needed to wash his mouth. He needed to stomp out the pity in Harry's eyes. He needed to kiss Harry again. Maybe another kiss would do the trick. Instead he said, "It doesn't matter. I don't love you. I was just seeing if you still had feelings for me. Pretty funny that would have been." A humourless laugh forced its way up his throat and out his mouth, sour on his tongue.
Pity, pity, pity in Harry's eyes. Potter's eyes. Eyes he didn't want looking at him but he desired. He needed to get away from Potter.
Quickly he rushed to the door, not caring if he was running, not caring what Potter thought.
"We can be friends?" Potter asked.
Draco turned and looked him in the eyes, for the last time. "I never want to be friends with the likes of you." And it was the truth.
Twenty minutes later he was curled under the blanket with a cup of tea in his hands and warm arms around his shoulders.
"I'm proud of you, Draco," Pansy was saying but Draco was trying to ignore her. He didn't want to talk about it. "I know you may not see it. In fact, I'm sure you see it as a flaw, a weakness in your Malfoy exterior. But I see it otherwise. Now that Potter's out of the way you can get back to normal. You can let him go. Pick up the pieces."
How could he pick up the pieces when some were crushed under Potter's foot?
"Want to come with Blaise and me on our second honeymoon next weekend? Caribbean. Maybe you can meet some nice Caribbean boys." She nudged him with her knee. Draco gave her a weak smile. Sun and sand and Caribbean boys with dark black hair. He could use some dark black hair. He didn't care if he was trying to find Potter in someone else. Maybe a look alike would bring back enough pieces for him to stop acting like a soppy love-struck fool. Hopefully.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/General
Length: 2956
Pairings: Harry/Draco. Mentions of Harry/Neville, Pansy/Draco, Pansy/Blaise.
Summary: Harry was supposed to run back to him, but he never did.
Note: For strigoia who wanted them to break up and Draco to pine while Harry moves on. Hopefully you like it, love. ♥
Huge thank you to my hero lire_casander for providing the small translation!
Harry tried untangling but Draco held fast, trailing his tongue down Harry's neck, nipping slightly. Harry moaned and arched his back. Yet he still tried to back away. The idiot.
"You taste so good," Draco muttered, laving at his Adam's apple.
"Draco," Harry panted. "I told you I needed to talk to you. Can't you -- Mmm -- keep your hands to yourself?"
Huffing, Draco pulled away and sat on the nearest desk. If Severus knew what they did in his room... That thought always made Draco grin maliciously. He loved Severus, he was his godfather after all, but lately he liked to go against what his family said.
Take Harry for example.
"Draco."
He raised his eyebrows, smoothing his shirt and slacks. He had quite a hard on. Couldn't Potter just hurry on with it so they could shag? It'd been a week since the last time.
"Well, er, it's very busy right now, hasn't it?" Harry pushed the bridge of his glasses up, hands fluttering down to play with the hem of his jumper.
"What do you mean?" Draco drawled, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs slightly, liking the way the fabric moved over his erection. He did it again.
"I think, maybe, we should, you know..." His grin was strained.
Draco's brow furrowed. "What? If you want to limit our meetings -- dates, sorry," -- because Harry was the one who always called them dates, insisted they were dating -- "let me know. Merlin knows we meet too often," he scoffed.
"No." Harry bowed his head and was silent for so long that Draco was about to stand and continue in his activity of licking Harry to a pile of goo, when Harry's head snapped up, a determined look in his bright green eyes. "I think we should break up."
There wasn't enough air in the classroom.
"I mean," Harry rushed to explain, "you're the son of a Death Eater and I'm Harry Potter. We can't tell anyone about us and we barely get to date anyway. When we do it's just for sex." His voice diminished to a soft whisper. "You don't seem like you want me for me."
And suddenly the air burst into his lungs. Harry figured he didn't care in the way the Harry wanted him to. A grin covered his face, one of those malicious grins he got whenever he was rebelling. "I agree with you."
"You do?" Harry gazed at him with large eyes that seemed to be brimming.
Draco nodded. Harry was so obviously in love with him. "I think a break up is what we need. I mean, it's not like love can conquer war."
With satisfaction he saw he had hit the nail on the head.
Green eyes flashed and Harry was across the short distance, climbing into Draco lap and rubbing against his cock in a most delicious way. "Love can," he insisted. "Love is what's going to win this war, Dumbledore told me. Love and Voldemort can't understand love but I love you, Draco. I take it back, let's not break up. You'll see, love can live a war."
Draco let himself be kissed heatedly for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, Harry, you were right. We need to break up. At least until after the war."
Harry protested and tried to distract Draco with sex but Draco was adamant. As he watched Harry walk about the door, shoulders slouched, he grinned. Harry would be back before he knew it and then he would know that Draco was the one in charge. Harry was the one in love and Draco wasn't so naturally he held all the power.
Three months later Harry disappeared along with the Weasel and Mudblood. Draco hoped he would die. Not because he wanted the Dark Lord to win -- truthfully, he didn't care who won, as long as his parents stayed safe -- but because Harry was supposed to run back to him a long time ago.
The prat hadn't even told him he was leaving. Just up and disappeared one night.
At first Draco knew it was using all of Harry's strength to not go running back because every time Draco sent him a lewd glance his face would flush and he'd press his lips together, averting his green eyes.
Then something had happened. Draco never got all the information. When he asked Harry about it he had been shrugged off. After that incident, marked by a ruddy brown owl carrying a message to Harry, Harry had stopped looking at him. He was always in the library with the Weasel and Mudblood or off who knew where.
Harry would still come back to him though, Draco was positive. There was no way he could be in love with Draco one month then not the next day. He was just preoccupied. After the war he would run back, all pitiful and Draco would scare him, make him think he was over him. Then Harry would know Draco was the one in charge.
Right after the war, no doubt.
"Darling," Pansy started, looking over the brim of her tea. "What's wrong with you?"
Draco blinked, gulping his tea in haste. He scorched his tongue.
"For the past two years you've been falling. Even before that, during the war, you were acting differently, come to think of it. Of course, it was war, I didn't think much about it. But, Draco, I'm worried."
"You're a Slytherin, Pansy, don't be worried," Draco dismissed, waving his absently.
"No!" she yelled, slamming the cup onto the table. Agarwood, goblin-made, expensive, nice, now ruined. Goblin-made never scourgified properly. He reached out and rubbed at the indent. The tea was already cooling. The sensation felt weird. It was warming on his skin, almost like hardening wax but not. The wrinkling feeling was absent.
"Look at you," Pansy muttered, pulling his hand out of the spilled tea. "You're a mess. Maybe no one else noticed -- Blaise sure hasn't. Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't if you told them, but I'm not stupid, Draco. What has happened to turn you like this?"
Draco frowned. He hadn't thought he was acting much differently. It wasn't like Potter could affect him that much. So he didn't go on dates or out with people as much. That was just his personality.
He could have anyone he wanted and he sure as hell didn't want Potter.
"Draco." His name, a plead. She was looking so openly at him, eyes wide with worry. She looked beautiful; Blaise was lucky.
She looked beautiful.
Nary a thought Draco leaned across the table, his bladder pressing painfully into the edge, and kissed her. She gasped and he pushed his tongue in, reaching desperately for what he wasn't sure. But he knew it wasn't there. And why not! Why should Potter be the one who made him feel? Why couldn't Pansy? Both their last names started with a P, they had black hair, and that should be enough because he doesn't love Potter but he loves Pansy.
Nimble fingers grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back so the table wasn't cutting into him. "What's wrong, darling?" She had spit on her chin but she didn't wipe it off. Draco wished she would. It looked disgusting, like what he'd just done.
"I don't love him." He nodded, reassuring himself. "I don't, you know. I don't need the bastard and I sure don't bloody love him!"
"Who?"
"Potter." And he knew he was lying.
Pansy was giving him a questioning look and Draco explained, sitting back in his chair and bringing a hand to rub his forehead.
"You're fit."
Draco turned around. Potter was standing a few feet behind him. His eyes scoured the corridor for who had spoken. Potter was staring at him.
"What?" he snapped.
"I said you're fit." Potter's gaze broke and wavered to the floor. Then it was searching Draco's face.
"What the bloody fuck are you going on about?" This was wasting his time.
Potter moving closer, looking suspiciously like a tiger closing in on its prey. "You're attractive, fit." A beat. "Want to go snog?"
Silence filled the area. Draco stared at the door Potter was pointing to. Potter's face. The door. Potter's face. The inside of his eyelids. All he could say was, "What?"
Potter flushed. "Don't make me repeat again. Once was hard enough." He pushed the bridge of his specs up.
It had to be some kind of joke, prank. "All right." Now he was the one surrounding his prey and oh did it feel good. Potter blinked owlishly at him, head lowered slighting, lashes even lower and -- was he trying to be seductive? Either way he was going about it the wrong way. He wasn't a girl so he simply looked silly.
"I knew you were a poof," Potter whispered, sounding anything but sure of himself. "Knew you would want to."
Draco stopped his front of him, nose to nose. He wished he was taller so he could tower over him. It would make a great image.
"You're so easy to predict," said Potter, letting his head fall back.
Draco stared at the neck offered to him. It was most definitely a joke. Potter didn't expect him to do anything. So that's exactly what he did.
His tongue darted out and trailed up the salty skin. Sweet. He bit Potter's chin, forcing his head straight. Then he smashed their lips together, tongue thrusting through responsive lips and trying to bruise.
Instead of shrieking and running away so Draco could laugh, Potter wrapped around him, hands crawling beneath his trousers. He thrust their hips together and this wasn't supposed to happen. But Potter felt so good and who would have known?
It wasn't until two months later that Potter admitted it hadn't been some joke. That he had been desperate for something, for feelings other than numbness from the war and that Draco had been the one that made him angry so couldn't he make him feel passion?
Pansy was silent for a long time. Then she crawled across the table and held him, as if he was crying, but he wasn't.
She didn't say a word. Draco didn't want her to.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't bloody fair. Potter should have died.
The crumpled Daily Prophet fell to the floor. Who did he think he was, going and getting a boyfriend? Coming out to everyone, not a mention of the one who'd made him realize it. Not a mention of Draco, the person he'd promised to return to after the war.
He had, hadn't he?
"No, Harry, you were right. We need to break up. At least until after the war."
"But I don't think I'll last that long without you."
No, he hadn't said it, had he?
It didn't matter. Draco kicked The Daily Prophet, wishing Potter would disappear along with his precious Longbottom. Who dated a Longbottom anyway? Pathetic.
After that he went on dates.
There was Larry, who played Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. He was a real downer in bed though. Straight up vanilla. Didn't even like anal.
Brian was too flamboyant and open. He considered Draco a fling. They were but that didn't matter. Draco wanted his man smitten.
There was the one with green eyes but his hair was always flawless, more so than Draco's. Needless to say, that one didn't last long (he couldn't even remember the name). His boyfriend could not be more put together than himself.
"And then Sebastian who spoke Spanish. You don't know Spanish. For all you knew he could have been insulting you the whole time. 'Te pareces a mi madre.' Probably 'you're as fat as a pig.'"
"No, fat is gordo, I think. And he did speak English."
"'Shag?' does not constitute as English!" she roared, slamming her fists on the settee's armrest. Draco was glad she didn't have tea in her hands this time. Couldn't risk having to replace the settee too.
"Besides, he had this tousled black hair and --"
"was utterly besotted with you," Pansy said with a sigh. "I know. You can't find Potter through a bunch of losers."
It was the first time she'd spoken of what happened between Potter and him.
"I'm not trying to find Potter."
"Of course not, darling," she said, stroking his hair and using that tone of voice that let him know he wasn't fooling anyone. He wasn't trying to fool anyone.
He wasn't even fooling himself.
The cold permeated his thick robes, chilling his bones and making them rattle. He could almost hear it.
Bloody house elves hadn't kept the tea stocked up and Pansy had forced him out to pick it up at the corner store. Something about him needing fresh air. He had been out just last week, to curse some brats who had been wreaking havoc in his yard. Of course, then he'd had to spend an hour out in the cold strengthening the wards around the house. Now even he had trouble getting in.
"Yeah, yeah, but hurry would you? My arse is going to fall off any second now!"
Potter was standing in front of the corner store doors, waving through the window. He looked the same as back in Hogwarts: hair standing up, eyes green as fresh grass, glasses that looked ridiculous, body as fit as ever.
"Draco?" Potter turned to him, head cocked. "Is that you?"
Draco could only nod dumbly. What was wrong with him? He couldn't have it that bad.
"What have you been up to?"
Draco wasn't aware that he was moving forward until his arms were around Potter's neck and he was kissing him.
A few seconds of Draco plundering his mouth, Potter reacted. His tongue stroked Draco's and he pressed forward until they were fighting for dominance, exactly like before. Draco was lost. All he could taste was Potter -- Harry and he was sweet with some undertone of fruit, maybe apples. He smelled differently, like skin and soap and heat even though it was freezing out.
Eventually Harry pulled back. Draco moved forward but hands grabbed his shoulders, stopping him. Draco glared.
"I can't," he panted, looking over his shoulder and into the store. "I'm dating Neville now, you know."
Draco backed up a step so Harry's hands fell down. It was going to happen. Harry was going to run back, he was. There was no way they could share a kiss that good if Harry didn't want him. "Who cares what you can or can't do," he sneered. "What do you want?"
Harry's eyes closed and he took a deep breath. "Draco, I love Neville."
"But you just kissed me!"
"Correction: You kissed me."
"You kissed me back!"
Harry didn't respond but he had opened his eyes now. They were sweeping over Draco, scrutinizing him. "Oh gods."
Draco pursed his lips. What?
"Oh gods," he repeated. "You...you love me. Don't you?"
"No." But it came out as a whine. A plea. A lie spoken from a pitiful man.
"I'm sorry," Harry started.
Draco backed away, a sneer on his face for appearances, but he knew it was failing. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He shouldn't even have hopes for Harry Potter.
"Draco, wait, I did love you. I did." His eyes were wide and honest and Draco didn't want to hear it. Harry was just going to rub it in that Draco had his chance and he'd missed it. "But now I love Neville."
He was cold and Harry's taste was still on his tongue. Nasty. He needed to wash his mouth. He needed to stomp out the pity in Harry's eyes. He needed to kiss Harry again. Maybe another kiss would do the trick. Instead he said, "It doesn't matter. I don't love you. I was just seeing if you still had feelings for me. Pretty funny that would have been." A humourless laugh forced its way up his throat and out his mouth, sour on his tongue.
Pity, pity, pity in Harry's eyes. Potter's eyes. Eyes he didn't want looking at him but he desired. He needed to get away from Potter.
Quickly he rushed to the door, not caring if he was running, not caring what Potter thought.
"We can be friends?" Potter asked.
Draco turned and looked him in the eyes, for the last time. "I never want to be friends with the likes of you." And it was the truth.
Twenty minutes later he was curled under the blanket with a cup of tea in his hands and warm arms around his shoulders.
"I'm proud of you, Draco," Pansy was saying but Draco was trying to ignore her. He didn't want to talk about it. "I know you may not see it. In fact, I'm sure you see it as a flaw, a weakness in your Malfoy exterior. But I see it otherwise. Now that Potter's out of the way you can get back to normal. You can let him go. Pick up the pieces."
How could he pick up the pieces when some were crushed under Potter's foot?
"Want to come with Blaise and me on our second honeymoon next weekend? Caribbean. Maybe you can meet some nice Caribbean boys." She nudged him with her knee. Draco gave her a weak smile. Sun and sand and Caribbean boys with dark black hair. He could use some dark black hair. He didn't care if he was trying to find Potter in someone else. Maybe a look alike would bring back enough pieces for him to stop acting like a soppy love-struck fool. Hopefully.