Passerà (H/D, NC-17)
Title: Passerà
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: charmed310
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word count: ~9900 words
Genre: angst, romance
Summary: Harry finds himself going through the motions of life. Not sure how he got here, but sure he can't continue on this way, he decides to leave England and the wizarding world behind. But what about Draco?
Author's Note 1: Written for the hds_beltane fic exchange, as a gift to frayach. Thanks to twistedm for all the hard work that went into making the fest a reality!
Author's Note 2: A big thanks to charmed310, my awesome and speedy beta, who also came up with the absolutely perfect title for this! All remaining mistakes are mine.
Harry stood next to Draco, watching the Beltane fire on Calton Hill. This was the first time he had been to the Edinburgh Beltane Fire Festival, and Draco thought it would be good for them to get out. He was worried about Harry, he had said. He wanted to do something to get his mind off the war and get him to try living again.
As he watched the May Queen and her Court and listened to the Processional Drummers of Beltane, Harry felt detached, as if he were watching the events of someone else's life unfold before him, or as though he were in a dream. It all felt surreal to him; not quite there. He was not quite there. Of course, logically, he knew that he was standing beside Draco, in front of a fire, surrounded by hundreds of people, wizards and Muggles alike, but he felt alone. So very, very alone. He felt nothing, actually. Empty. He stared into the fire, mesmerized, yet unfeeling. How was that possible?
Harry stood at the precipice between past and future. His past had been mapped out for him from birth. He was the wizarding world's saviour-to-be, and he had been moulded, trained, manipulated, and used. That was how he felt now -- used. He was not yet twenty, but he felt so much older, so worn. And as he looked ahead to his future, he saw nothing.
His past had been a series of confrontations, reactions, battles of one sort or another. He went from one to another without question, without asking for direction. He had thought that he had choices, that he had control. He was a fool. He had been played like a piano, moved like a marionette by the skilled hands of many a witch and wizard. Oh, and Muggles too. Let us not forget the Muggles.
Voldemort had ripped his parents away from him. Dumbledore had ripped him away from the wizarding world. His remaining 'family' had tried to rip away his magic. As he thought about these things, he realized that he had been torn into fragments long before the war. That was merely the icing on the cake.
~~~~~
Standing there that night on the hill, Harry made up his mind. He wasn't living any more -- if he ever really had lived. He was merely existing, and he didn't know what that meant. All he did know was that he needed ... something. Anything.
He needed to feel again. He knew that the existence he was leading wasn't fair to Draco either. Draco truly cared for him, but what good was he in return? He couldn't feel anything any more, and Draco deserved far better than that. He was full of life, full of spirit, and Harry was slowly, gradually draining that spirit out of him. He knew that he was; he could see it happening, even if Draco couldn't or wouldn't admit it. Harry knew, on an abstract level, that he loved Draco, but he could no longer feel that love. Like every other emotion for Harry, love was just ... gone. Empty. Flat.
~~~~~
"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that night as they arrived back at their flat.
Harry turned a pained look towards Draco, and this time he answered. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Leaving?" Draco looked at him, confusion all over his face.
"Yes, leaving. Going away," Harry said.
"Going where exactly?"
"Anywhere. Just not here."
"Well that's nice." His eyes had hardened with Harry's last remark.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Really? So do tell ... exactly which way did you mean it?" His body had stiffened, the invisible but ever-present walls around him growing in strength.
"I mean that I need to get away. I need to do this for me. I feel like my life has been directed by outside forces since the day I was born. Destiny, fate, prophecy -- whatever it was back then led me to where I am today."
"So what exactly does that have to do with you leaving now?"
"I can't explain it."
"That's convenient."
"No, really. I don't know how to put it into words."
"Try." Draco's look was menacing.
"I need to not be me for a while."
"Good luck with that," Draco said sarcastically.
"I told you that I couldn't explain it."
"You said 'a while'. What does that mean exactly? A day? A week? A month? A year? If you need to get away for 'a while', we can go to any number of the Malfoy properties around the world."
"No. What I meant was that I need to get away from who I am. From what I am. Just not be me."
"How can you not be you? One can hardly escape one's self, Harry. You are who you are."
"But that's just it, Draco. I don't know who I am any more. I don't know if I ever did. For now I just need to make a clean break from everything and everyone that are part of my past." Draco pinned him with a glare that could have rivalled Lucius' in his heyday. "I need to try to figure out who I am. And I can't do that without starting fresh."
"Well, don't let me keep you, then," shot Draco, and he left the flat.
~~~~~
Harry awoke the next morning to find that Draco hadn't returned. Disappointed, but not entirely surprised, he had a quick breakfast, packed his clothes, and headed for the airport. He had decided to leave the country the Muggle way, to avoid being traced or eventually tracked down. The night before, after Draco had left, he had booked a flight out of the country, and had conjured up a reasonable passport and was willing to cast a well-placed Confundus Charm on any overly efficient officials if necessary.
While he waited for his flight to be called, he decided to write two letters. One was addressed to everyone, including Draco. The second was for Draco's eyes only, with a note to "read last".
I am writing this letter to say goodbye, and to try to explain why I have left. I don't think I could have said what I needed to say in person without messing up completely. Call it the Slytherin in me, but this time I'm sneaking away. Right now, I don't know if this will be forever, but I do know that I need to make a clean break from the wizarding world, and from England.
I feel like I am stuck between my past and my future, with no idea which way to go. I have spent my life doing what was expected of me, and right now I feel the need to do something for me.
This may seem selfish, and I suppose in many ways it is, but it's what I have to do. I don't even feel like I'm living any more. I exist. Day after day I get up to watch the world go by. I feel ... well, actually I don't feel. I can't seem to feel anything any more. And I can't hurt the people around me by feeling nothing. I can't live like this, so I'm leaving England and the magical world behind.
I will miss you all, but I really do think this is best for everyone. Please respect my wishes, and do not look for me. Yes, that means you, Hermione!
Love, Harry
The letter to Draco was more difficult, because Harry knew that he was hurting him, even if he had thought it was best for Draco as well as himself. There was so much he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how.
Dear Draco,
Please do not think any of this has to do with you, because it doesn't. It has everything to do with me. I know that sounds like some standard break-up line, "it's not you, it's me" but that's not what this is. The night before I left, I explained a little bit about what I have been feeling (or not feeling) lately, and the reason I needed to leave.
Believe me when I say that, above all others, I want to be with you. If I thought for a moment that I could accomplish what I need to do without leaving you behind, I would. But I watch you, Draco. I have watched the light slowly leave your eyes, as you watch me retreat into myself. It's not fair to you. I know that I'm hurting you by leaving, but you have to believe that I would hurt you more if I stayed.
I hope you have it in your heart to accept what I'm saying. I don't expect forgiveness, but I do hope for understanding. Please don't hate me.
I will always love you,
Harry
He sealed the letters, using the last bit of magic he would use for a very long time, and posted the letters the Muggle way, addressed to his and Draco's flat. He knew that he should feel regret, sorrow, perhaps loss, but he still felt nothing.
~~~~~
Twelve hours later, Harry exited a train in a small town in rural Alberta, Canada. He had no plan, and didn't know what he was going to do with himself, but he was satisfied that this was as good a place as any to start a new life. He had decided where he was going by closing his eyes and pointing to a spot on a train map just before boarding. Small town living it was.
He settled himself at the local inn, grabbed a Muggle newspaper, and set about starting over. He was Harry Potter, nobody special. If he could have felt something, he was sure he would have felt a sense of relief.
~~~~~
"What do you mean, he's gone?" screeched Hermione.
"I mean that he has left the premises, Granger. I would have thought that much was obvious." Her glare didn't waver. "He left. No forwarding address, no planned date of return, no little notes, nothing."
"That doesn't sound like Harry," Ron interjected.
"Don't you think I know that? He hasn't been himself lately, not since the war. He's been gradually pulling away from everything and everyone."
"I hadn't noticed," Hermione said guiltily.
"He told me about this last night, and when all was said and done, I left and spent the night at the Manor. When I returned this morning, he was gone, as were all his clothes."
"Why didn't you try to stop him?" Ron accused.
"Don't you think I did?" Draco was on the verge of tears -- no, he wouldn't cry in front of them -- and he didn't need a guilt trip to add to the heaviness in his heart. He was already asking himself the same question. "I guess I had hoped he wouldn't really leave," he said quietly to himself.
"Apparently, you didn't try hard enough!" barked Ron.
"Really, Weasley? Have you ever tried to stop Harry from doing something he was determined to do?" At the nod of Ron's head, he continued. "And how did that turn out for you? Did you manage it?" As he watched Ron's gaze drop to the floor, he added, "Right. I thought not."
"But why?" Hermione cried. She wasn't doing as well as Draco at holding back her emotions.
"Something about wanting to figure out who he really is. He's gone his whole life being manipulated, and now he wants to get as far away from the source of that as possible. Including magic."
"What?!" Ron sounded incredulous. "He's giving up magic? But why?"
"How the hell should I know?" Draco snapped. "I don't think even he knows."
They stood in stunned silence for a few minutes, Hermione's sniffling the only sound to be heard. Eventually, she spoke up.
"How are you, Draco?" He was so stunned at the sincerity in her voice, he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind, and be sure he had heard correctly. "This can't be easy on you. I mean, just when you ..."
"Awful," he answered, voice cracking and eyes blinking back tears that threatened to flow.
"Oh, Draco!" Hermione cried, as she flung herself at him, pulling him into a bear hug. He stared at Ron, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. When Ron looked at him and shrugged, Draco put his arms around her and returned the hug. He put his head on her shoulder, and took what little comfort he could from this friend of Harry's who owed him nothing. He was sure that she would never know just how much that small gesture had meant to him.
~~~~~
Harry decided to take a week or so to get to know the town before he went in search of work. He knew it was a farming community, so he felt sure that he could find employment as a hired hand. He was young and fit, and never shied away from hard work. He figured there was something to be said for his Muggle upbringing.
~~~~~
Two days after Harry had left the letters he had sent from the airport arrived. Draco placed them on the coffee table and just stared at them. As long as he didn't read them, there was a chance that this wasn't happening. A chance that Harry hadn't left him. A chance that he would come through the door at any moment. A chance that this was all just a bad dream. Denial, thy name is Draco, he thought ruefully.
For three days, Draco didn't open the letters. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Then Hermione dropped by.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"How do you think?" he said in a despondent and somewhat desperate voice.
You know, Draco, I've been thinking about what you said about Harry, about how he's been feeling and acting lately."
"And?"
"And I think he may be suffering from depression. I read --"
"Well there's a surprise. You read about it somewhere," he said as he rolled his eyes at her. "What does it matter anyway?"
"Well, it means that he isn't thinking rationally right now. He probably doesn't feel much of anything."
"And that is supposed to make me feel better?"
"Not better, no. But it might help you to accept that his decision to leave had nothing to do with you, or anyone really."
"So what you're telling me is that he somehow managed to make it through his entire miserable life, he finally killed Voldemort and saved the bloody world, and when everyone else begins celebrating, he plummets into depression?"
"It could be what Muggles call post-traumatic stress, or any number of things. All I know is that the Harry we know wouldn't act like this. He wouldn't run away from his problems, from his life, from his friends, and he especially wouldn't run away from you. I think he may be much more troubled than he let on."
"This isn't making me feel any better, Granger."
"Er ... sorry? I just thought you'd want to know."
"Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you. Of course I want to know. It's just that now I probably won't be able to remain angry with him, and I had such high hopes of dwelling on that, perhaps resurrecting some of my old not-so-pleasant feelings for him, and channelling that anger to get me through this."
"Well, you may just have to let your friends help you instead." She smiled hopefully.
His eyes inadvertently fell upon the letters on the table, and Hermione's eyes followed his gaze. She went over and picked up the letters.
"Are these from Harry?" Draco nodded in response. "When did they arrive? And why haven't you opened them?"
"They arrived three days ago, and I can't. I just can't."
"What if something's happened to him? What if he left a forwarding address? What if he changed his mind, and asked you to join him?"
Draco's head was reeling with all the questions being fired at him. "Face it, Hermione, he's gone. These letters are his final goodbye, and I just can't bear to read them."
"Not reading them won't bring him back, you know."
"Why not? Why can't it? Why can't I just keep hoping that I'll wake up from this nightmare?"
For the second time, Draco found himself in the arms of a bushy-haired Muggle-born Gryffindor, finding comfort. She held him close, and this time, without Ron being there, he was unable to hold back. His entire body shook as his sobs washed over him in waves, and he kept asking, "Why, Harry? Why? Why?"
~~~~~
Two weeks after arriving in town, Harry had found himself a job and a place to stay. A local widow, who always hired additional help in the spring, took an instant liking to Harry. She said that he reminded her of her husband in his youth. She hired him at once, and set him up in a room above the old barn, which was no longer used for anything except living quarters for the help, and storage for some extra riding gear.
Harry looked around at his new home and was pleased with what he saw. It was small, but clean. Besides, he had lived in a cupboard for years. Compared to that, this was downright palatial.
~~~~~
Draco and Harry were in the wilderness, night rapidly approaching, sloshing through the mud, drenched with rain, looking for the final Horcrux.
"Why the fuck can't I cast a Warming Charm, a Drying Charm, or even an Impervious Charm?" Harry complained.
"Because, Potter, oh brilliant one, magic doesn't work here."
"Well, that's just lovely, isn't it?"
"I'm sure we'll be fine. Stop being such a baby," he admonished. "What happened to the brave Gryffindor?"
"I'm not scared, you prissy little prat! I'm pissed off. It will take us twice as long to find the damn thing this way, and I just know you are going to be intolerable to be around in no time."
"Me? Who's the one whining about no magic?" No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than Draco lost his footing on a steep decline, and went gracelessly tumbling down the hill. Near the bottom, his foot hit a protruding rock, and a loud crunch echoed through the air. Harry hurtled himself down the hill after him.
"You've twisted your ankle by the looks of things," Harry told Draco as he felt the joint for any signs of a broken bone. Given what Harry had said just before he took his fall, Draco resisted the urge to cry out in pain. "Does it hurt much?" Harry asked.
"What do you think? It's twice its normal bloody size! I should think even you could figure out that it hurts."
"Yes, well, we thick-headed Gryffindors prefer to get the other person's input when it comes to injuries."
Draco winced as Harry squeezed the ankle. "Sorry about that," Harry apologized.
"You're probably loving this, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That's right. I just love the idea that you are in pain. It couldn't happen to a nicer person." He stood up, pulling Draco to an upright position.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting us out of here. We can't stay out in the open."
"But I can't walk," Draco stated, trying valiantly not to sound pitiful.
"I saw a cave just over there about half a mile. Just lean on me and I'll help you."
Draco gritted his teeth. He hated being helpless. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Harry smiled. He placed his arm around Draco's waist, and took most of his weight, while Draco hobbled along. "I'll set that ankle when we get there, but I want to get hidden away as quickly as we can." Draco nodded his agreement.
Once they made it to the cave, they found a small dry patch and sat down. Harry went about immobilizing Draco’s ankle, by creating a makeshift splint out of parts of his robe, and some pieces of wood he found near the cave. "Sorry," he said. "It’s the best I can do for now."
"It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll live."
"You have to live. Who would make my life hell otherwise?" Harry joked.
Despite the pain he was in, Draco smiled. "My life’s work has not gone in vain, then. Good to know."
Harry left the cave, apparently trying to map out where they might go come morning, but it was too dark to see anything properly. He had also looked for wood that they might use for a fire, but everything was soaked through, he had no matches, and they couldn’t use magic anyway. It was going to be a cold and long night.
Draco must have drifted off. He awoke to find a body snuggled up behind him, arm and leg draped over him. It felt … nice, until he realized just whose body it was. He stiffened, and nudged his elbow into the other man’s ribs. "Potter! Potter, wake up!"
"Wha?"
"Stop cuddling me!" he said, sounding appalled.
"Nope," came the reply, and Harry nuzzled in, pulling Draco even closer.
"Unhand me!" Draco said, trying to squirm away.
"Relax already," Harry said as he tightened his grip. "You fell asleep and I covered you with my robe to keep you warm. The blankets we brought were useless, because we had shrunk them to make them easier to carry, but I couldn’t unshrink them without magic. Meanwhile, you had started to shiver. It got worse as time went on, and the only way I could think of to keep you warm was with body heat. So I’m not moving."
"But we’re warm now," Draco argued, although rather weakly. He was quite comfortable.
"Mmm, and I’d like to stay that way, if you don’t mind."
Draco awoke from his dream, shivering almost as badly as he had that night, only to find that there was no Harry to keep him warm now. He drew the covers up around himself, and willed sleep to return.
~~~~~
Harry went about his work, keeping mainly to himself. Often, the other hired hands went into town on a Friday night, to tie one on at the only pub, but Harry wasn’t interested in that. He wasn’t ready for friends. Not yet, anyway.
It had been two months since he had left England, but he still wasn’t really feeling a sense of loss, except in a somewhat detached way. He wondered if he would ever feel again.
~~~~~
"I think this could be it," said Harry.
Draco sighed. "You’ve said that three times already. What makes you think -"
"Shhh. Come here."
Draco hobbled over, his ankle still not able to bear his weight. He couldn’t wait to get past this warded area and cast a healing charm. He hoped this wouldn’t cause any permanent damage, not healing it right away. "What is it?"
"Look." Harry’s eyes had lit up, and he pointed across the small pond in front of them. On the opposite bank was a light that seemed completely out of place. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere; it was just … there. "That has to be it."
"You know, Potter, I think you might actually be right. Who would have thought a Gryffindor would be able to find something like this on his own?"
"But I’m not on my own. You’re with me." The smile he gave Draco felt like a warm breeze on a summer’s night. Why such a statement warmed him, Draco didn’t know, but he was quite suddenly very glad that he had come with Harry on this quest, twisted ankle and all.
"All I’ve done is slow you down," he pointed out.
"That’s not true, and you know it. Sure, it might have been a bit faster otherwise, but it also would have been terribly boring." They were making their way around the pond to the spot where the light was glowing. "You really are good company when you’re not trying to piss me off, you know."
"I … well … hmpf!"
Harry chuckled. "Your life’s work, remember?"
As they approached the spot, they saw a small wooden chest sitting atop a stone in a small clearing of a wood. Harry reached for it, but Draco stopped him. "What if it’s cursed?"
"Oh, it’s most definitely cursed," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"Then don’t touch it!"
"Aw, I didn’t know you cared."
Draco’s cheeks went pink. "What do you mean to do, just pick it up? Are you crazy?"
"Well, I figure we can’t do magic here, so maybe the same is true for this object. Maybe the curse will only take effect once we leave the vicinity."
"You figure? Maybe? Are you mad?"
Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Quite mad, actually." And then he scooped the box from its place. Nothing happened. Draco let out a breath.
Suddenly, a surge of magic washed over and around them. "Well," Harry said. "I think we’re safe to assume that this really is the final Horcrux, then."
"Brilliant! Now what do we do?"
Harry pulled out his wand, and cast a quick healing charm on Draco’s ankle. "Did it work?" he asked.
"Yes," Draco said, elated. The ground beneath them started to shake.
Harry grabbed hold of Draco and Apparated them back to Grimmauld Place, then promptly cast a Binding Spell on the box, preventing it from exploding or otherwise wreaking havoc.
"We did it!" Harry screamed as he embraced Draco, and planted a kiss right smack on his mouth!
Draco must have looked dumbfounded as Harry pulled back. "Er ... sorry about that ... caught up in the moment … er … sorry … won’t happen again …"
Draco realized that he hadn’t minded at all. Then he did the most Gryffindor thing he’d ever done in his life, and shut Harry up completely by kissing him quite soundly. The kiss was rough, wet, and unbelievably exciting. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths with abandon, and then it was over. When Draco pulled back, he looked Harry straight in the eye, and said, "I am not sorry."
Draco awoke this time with a smile on his face. Remembering the days when he and Harry had first started dating always did that for him. He always found it ironically amusing that Voldemort, the wizard who couldn't love, was in large part responsible for Draco finding love - with Harry, of all people.
Not long after he awoke, however, reality came crashing down on him more harshly than the rain on that day they went searching for the Horcrux. No matter how drenched, injured and cold he had been then, it was nothing compared to the bleakness of more days, weeks, months without Harry in his life. With that thought in mind, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower to start another Harry-free day. Not that there was much point.
~~~~~
Harry enjoyed the manual labour on the farm. It was honest work, and he thrived on it, and how it allowed him to escape his thoughts, if only for the time he kept busy. He was surprised that he hadn't missed magic very much, although he couldn't say that he never wanted to use it again. The longer he was there, the more he realized that this was a break for him, not a life change. As time passed, he felt the itch to perform magic become more pronounced.
He reasoned that it wouldn't be long before he could no longer resist the urge. He knew, without doubt, that he would return to the wizarding world eventually. He just didn't know when or even where that would happen. He still wasn't convinced England was where he belonged. But he was a wizard. He couldn't deny that forever.
~~~~~
"That's it! Out of this place now!" Hermione ordered. "I will not take no for an answer, Draco, so don't even bother trying."
"You are insufferable, woman!"
She merely laughed. "Yes, well, tell me something I've never heard before."
"Honestly, how do your friends put up with you?" he asked, although his words were not nearly as harsh as one might expect.
"I don't know, Draco. You tell me. After all, I consider you a friend." His eyes went wide at her words, as they settled in like a warm hug.
He had to acknowledge to himself that he did, in fact, consider her to be a friend now. Huh. I wonder how that happened.
"Draco, it has been three months since Harry left. You need to start living again. You need to, at the very least, get out of this house."
"It's too soon, Hermione."
"Too soon for what? To live? That's ridiculous!" Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not asking you to go out on a date. A group of us is going out for the afternoon to watch a local Quidditch match and you are coming with us. That's final."
~~~~~
It was good to feel something at last, even if it was the burning of his muscles, coupled with the ache of loss. At least it was something. At least he felt alive.
Over the five months he had worked the farm, Harry had re-established his connection with reality. He was experiencing life, feeling emotions, appreciating his surroundings. He didn't know if it was the fresh country air, the physical labour, the excellent food, or the company he was keeping. He suspected it was a mix of all these things, with a dash of anonymity thrown in for good measure.
Along with his renewed connection with his feelings came a deep longing. Not that he had, for even one day, stopped thinking about Draco. But now the emotions, the love, and the pain that accompanied the knowledge of what he had done and what he had lost overwhelmed him sometimes.
He knew that his decision had been made in haste, when he wasn't thinking straight, but would Draco accept that? Had he moved on? Was he with someone else now? Had he found love with someone more deserving than Harry? The pain accompanying that thought was rather like a knife entering and then twisting inside his stomach slowly, methodically, as though in an effort to inflict the most prolonged and excruciating agony.
He had been remembering their early days more and more lately. They were always full of such passion. Of course their relationship, even when they were in school together, was never anything less than passionate. They always did everything with such force and conviction that when they finally got together as lovers, it should have been no small wonder that it was explosive, but in a whole new -- and wonderful -- way. And when they fought, making up in the end was perhaps the best of all. Whoever said make-up sex was the best knew what they were talking about.
Harry groaned as he realized that, besides his heart, another part of his anatomy was missing Draco more and more each day. Gods, it had been so long. On the plus side, he supposed he should be pleased that his libido seemed to be back on track, after such a long hiatus. He slowly made his way into the shower, hoping that the hot water and a quick wank would leave him ... relaxed enough to make it into the main house for dinner.
~~~~~
"It's lovely to see you looking so refreshed, Draco." Narcissa smiled at her son as they sat in the garden of Malfoy Manor. It was an unusually warm fall day, and they were taking advantage of the lovely weather by taking their tea outdoors. "You look like you have been sleeping better lately."
"Thank you, Mother. As a matter of fact, I am well-rested lately."
"Does this mean you are finally over that fling you had with Potter?"
Ouch. That stung. He had never, ever thought of his time with Harry as a fling. Sure, he had had flings in his day, but with Harry it was more. Even their first kiss was more. It was never halfway with Harry. It was all or nothing. He snorted. And look at where that got you, he thought ruefully.
"It wasn't a fling, thank you Mother, and no, I'm not over him." Narcissa looked poised to interject some ridiculous 'feel good' diatribe, but Draco stopped her. "But I will be. Eventually. It will just take some more time, that's all."
"More time?" she asked incredulously. "I should think you've wasted enough of that over the likes of him already!"
"Mother," Draco warned.
"I know a lovely witch that would be thrilled to help you get over this ... whatever it is you're feeling. I can just call up her mother --"
Draco gritted his teeth. He really thought they were past this by now. "Mother," he began carefully, not wanting to simply tell her to piss off and be on his way. "I am gay. I am not interested in meeting any witch who will try to help me through this time of my life. I will make it through this break-up, and I will be the stronger for it." Narcissa smiled at her son, love shining in her eyes. "But I will still be gay at the end of the day. There is nothing you can do to change that, and I'll thank you to stop trying."
Narcissa looked appropriately abashed. "I just thought --"
"No, Mother, you didn't think. That's the problem. I am gay. Accept it. Move on. And for Merlin's sake, don't try to set me up with any wizards either!"
~~~~~
Harry stared out the window, watching the first snow of the season begin to cover the now bare fields. They had finished up the last of the fall clean-up the week before, and the last of the hired help, save Harry, had left yesterday. Time for me to go, he thought to himself. Only he didn't have anywhere to go. He wondered if he even wanted to go home, if he even considered it his home any more. He did, however, want to see Draco again. He couldn't deny that.
"Harry, dear, what has you looking so down? Homesick, perhaps?" Marge asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"Not exactly," he answered, not sure what to say.
"I see." With a bit of a twinkle in her eye, and a knowing look, she asked, "So, what's her name?"
Harry braced himself for what he was about to say. He knew he was in the heart of conservative Canada, and wasn't sure of the reaction he would get. But he wasn't about to lie to Marge. They had grown close since he had come here, and he wasn't about to taint their friendship with lies or half-truths. Well, aside from the fact that she didn't know he was a wizard. But that couldn't be helped. Besides, if she told him to get out, he wasn't any worse off anyway.
"His name, actually," he said, bracing himself for a retort.
To her credit, Marge didn't miss a beat. "Alright then. What's his name?"
Harry was relieved at her easy acceptance. She had become the closest thing to family Harry had in his life now, and he wasn't sure he was ready to give that up just yet. "I'd rather not say. I think it would make things too real if I did."
"Well, then. Tell me all about this mystery man of yours."
Harry spent the next couple hours telling Marge all about Draco. She seemed rather amused by their rocky start, was intrigued by their relationship, but confused by their parting. She had asked why he had left, and Harry found that he didn't have a suitable answer. He told her what he had said at the time, but he could tell by her furrowed brow that she wasn't convinced. In fact, it sounded rather hollow even to Harry. He supposed that was a reflection of his feelings, or lack thereof, at the time. He had feigned exhaustion and excused himself, afraid to face any more questions.
He had a restless sleep that night, images of Draco creeping unbidden into his subconscious.
He had not replayed scenes so much as snippets. A series of freeze frames flashed quickly, taking him from Madame Malkin's the first time they met - to the Hogwarts Express when Harry refused Draco's hand - to first year and Neville's Remembrall - to second year's Duelling Club - to third year when Draco was injured by Buckbeak - to fourth year and how Draco had looked at the Yule Ball - to fifth year and being caught by Draco outside the Room of Requirement - to sixth year and Myrtle's bathroom, Sectumsempra, and all that blood - to Draco and Snape's arrival at Grimmauld Place - to finding the last Horcrux - to their first kiss. Harry had woken up in a cold sweat, head spinning from all the images. He touched his fingers to his lips, longing for the kiss to have been real.
He fell back into a fitful sleep after that, to be taken on a decidedly more sensuous journey. He recalled, in vivid detail, the first time they had had sex - it was fast, furious, and passionate. Neither had lasted long, both visibly shaken afterwards. He replayed the first time they had made love - slow, gentle, patient. Then it seemed that he was going to remember all the places they had ever been together. Gentle and loving, angry and forceful, passionate and forgiving. When he awoke the next time, his breathing was laboured, his pulse racing, and his body ready. His mind was surely playing some sort of cruel joke on him.
Sleep did not come easily after that, but eventually he drifted off, thinking of Paris. The dreams he had after that were jumbled, but Draco was there. Always there. Watching, waiting, calling for him.
~~~~~
Draco opened the Prophet to see a picture of a family on vacation in France. At once his memory went back to the time he had practically dragged Harry to Paris.
Harry, you desperately need culture in your life," Draco had insisted.
"But I have you. What more culture do I need?"
"Nice try, Scarhead."
"Hey!"
"That's what you get for trying to manipulate a master manipulator. Gryffindors don't stand a chance against Slytherins in that department."
"Oh, but I would have made a great Slytherin. The hat even told me so."
"What? Surely the Sorting Hat didn't -- but it put you in -- you're lying. That's impossible. Harry 'do-gooder' Potter would never have lasted in Slytherin house!"
"Hmm. I seem to have lasted quite fine with you."
"Yes, well, I have ulterior motives. You wouldn't stand a chance otherwise."
"Whatever you say, honey," Harry said, emphasizing the last word, knowing how Draco loathed pet names. "The Sorting Hat told me I would do well in Slytherin, but I told it I didn't want to go there, so it put me in Gryffindor."
Draco's look was of utter shock. "Whatever made you refuse Slytherin?"
"You. You ruffled my feathers even back then. So you see? You are the reason I am a Gryffindor. It's only fitting that you should have to suffer the indignity of being stuck in public with such an uncouth partner."
"Be that as it may, we can talk more about school houses later. For now, we go to Paris. You will experience culture, you will enjoy it, and we will both be the better for it."
"If you say so," Harry had said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
When they arrived in Paris, they checked into their hotel, and Harry went immediately into predator mode. He launched himself at the blonde, who was planning their afternoon visit to the Louvre, and pushed Draco onto the plush king sized bed in the centre of the plush room.
"But Harry -- mpfh." He had pinned his boyfriend down on the bed, waved his wand to rid them of their clothes, and begun his exploration of the other man's lithe body, not once relinquishing contact from his lips. Harry's tongue explored Draco's mouth, and Draco was at once lost in the taste that was uniquely Harry. He loved the taste, the scent, the feel of Harry. His senses were on overload, and soon his squirming ceased to be resistant -- Louvre, what Louvre? -- and became more participatory. Harry released his mouth, to kiss a trail to his ear, where he licked playfully at the lobe, before nibbling it just so. Draco was close ... so close ... and they had barely begun.
Harry kissed and licked a path down Draco's neck to his chest. Swirling his tongue around a nipple, he pulled it into his mouth, suckling and then nibbling as he let it go to move on to the other one. He moved slowly down his torso, until his tongue was painting circles around his navel, darting in every once in a while, each time eliciting a moan from Draco, and a twitch from the blonde's cock.
"Harry," he groaned, grabbing Harry by the hair, and dragging him up for another kiss, this one filled with lust and promise. As they broke free, he growled, "I want you inside me."
Harry smiled, but shook his head. "Not yet. I want to taste you first," he said, and he made his way, licking a path directly from Draco's chin down to his navel, where he continued his ministrations. His hands trailed down the outside of Draco's legs, then back up along his inner thighs, then made their way up to his hips, where Harry's thumbs began rubbing circles into his skin.
"Harry," Draco begged now. Harry smiled, then moved down to tease the tip of Draco's leaking cock with his tongue, licking and spreading the pre-come over the head, and sending a wave of heat through Draco's body. "Gods, Harry. Now, please."
Harry didn't need any further encouragement, and he took the head into his mouth, tasting Draco. A groan of pleasure echoed through the room, though Draco wasn't sure which one of them had made the sound. Harry pulled free, licking a path from the base to the head of Draco's cock, and then inserted the tip of his tongue into the leaking slit, making the blonde scream in ecstasy. He took Draco's full length into his mouth, hummed in pleasure, sending shock waves through Draco's entire body, then slowly made his way up to the tip, sucking hungrily as he went. The sight of Harry's lips stretched around his throbbing cock, coupled with the sensations Harry's talented tongue was creating, almost sent Draco over the edge that quickly. Merlin, was this man ever good at this!
Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, Harry inserted one finger past the ring of muscle into Draco's hole. He wondered briefly when Harry had managed to coat his fingers with lube, but quickly stopped caring, as Harry inserted another finger, while he continued to give Draco what he was sure had to be the best blowjob of his life. Harry brushed Draco's prostate lightly, but that was enough. Draco felt his balls tighten, and the familiar rush of heat spread throughout him, as he came down Harry's throat, screaming Harry's name.
Harry swallowed every last drop. "You taste so fucking good," he whispered, his voice husky, as he made his way slowly back up Draco's body, stopping to take first one nipple, then the other, in his mouth. All his nerve endings sensitive to the touch, and still coming down from his high, Draco could do little more than whimper in response. Harry took him in a hungry kiss, while he continued to prepare him with his fingers -- three of them now.
"Want you inside me now," Draco growled against Harry's mouth.
Harry removed his fingers and reached for the lube that Draco only just noticed. He quickly coated his own leaking cock, while Draco rested his one leg on Harry's shoulder and lifted his hips in invitation. Harry hesitated a moment, and Draco watched as he paused to marvel at the sight of his lover spread out and ready for him. "So beautiful," Harry said, as he positioned his swollen cock at Draco's entrance.
As Harry breached the entrance and was pulled into Draco's welcoming channel, he let out a gasp. "So tight. So hot. So perfect," he muttered, as he gave Draco time to adjust. As Draco lifted his hips in unspoken demand for more, Harry pulled back, then drove into him. Several thrusts later, Harry was fully seated, and they settled into a steady rhythm.
Their coupling became frantic, Harry muttering incoherently as he pounded into Draco, who was hard again and fisting his own erection. Harry hit his sweet spot several times, and Draco's second orgasm overtook him. Two strokes later, he felt Harry's back stiffen and his channel fill with his lover's hot release, as he heard his name fall from Harry's lips. Together they rode out their ecstasy, and as one came down off their high.
As he lay there on his back, completely sated, Draco closed his eyes and wondered at his good fortune to have found Harry. His musings were interrupted as Harry moved to snuggle into him. Resting his head on Draco's shoulder, he whispered, "Love you."
Draco's eyes flew open, and he looked down at Harry. As he met the hopeful gaze of those deep green eyes, he knew that Harry meant it. He had never felt so complete in all his life. "I love you too."
Draco smiled at the memory, and then frowned as reality came back. Damn it, he had let it happen again. He was almost past this, he had thought, but then the slightest trigger would send him reeling back into the past. Back to a time when he had felt wanted, cherished, loved. Now he was left alone. And to make matters worse, his own memories had left him hard and wanting. Shit!
~~~~~
This time, as Harry stared into the Beltane fire, things were different. He felt the thrum of magic, the surge of life, the energy of the fire. He felt. He was elated.
He had been reluctant to return to England, especially on the eve of the one-year anniversary of his leaving. But Marge had insisted. She had told him that he was utterly useless to her now that he finally realized just what he had lost, and what he had to do, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.
He was under strict instructions to come back to England, to see that gorgeous man he had been raving about -- he didn't remember raving -- and to not give up until he was Harry's again. When Harry had pointed out the obvious -- that he may have found someone else -- she had merely shrugged and said that he at least had to try. He had finally agreed to the trip, promising to return to visit. She had given him a fierce hug, and told him she expected no less, but that he had to bring his mystery man too.
Harry watched the Court players dance about, watched the Green Man die at the touch of the May Queen, be stripped of his garments by the Queen's Handmaidens, and be 'reborn.' Harry felt the beat of the drums, which coursed through him like pure energy -- life -- emanating from the earth.
He couldn't believe how different the experience was this year. He could feel again. He was alive.
He looked around for the familiar shock of white blonde hair in the crowd. He knew that Draco loved to observe both Beltane and Samhain, and he had hoped to run into him here. A public gathering, he had decided, was preferable to a private meeting, if only to make Draco more comfortable. He was always good at keeping up pretences in public, and he would feel less like he was being cornered this way. Or so Harry hoped.
~~~~~
Draco stood, alone, watching the May Queen and her Court. Hermione had wanted to join him, not wanting him to be alone on what was the one-year anniversary of Harry's departure. He had managed, however, to convince her that he would be fine.
He had reasoned that he had been much better lately. True enough, he had been going out more often, spending Sunday afternoons with his mother, and Friday nights with friends. He had attended a few social functions, and had begun working part-time with Severus in his potions lab. He had even recently gone out on a date. Okay, that had been an unmitigated disaster -- entirely the other wizard's fault, of course -- but at least he had made the effort.
Eventually she had relented, which was how he came to find himself on Calton Hill, alone, at the spring festival famous for being the starting point for many marriages. He watched as couple after couple pledged themselves to each other, entering into the "trial marriages" of a year that the festival was famous for. Suddenly he wondered if maybe Hermione had been right. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.
Just as he was contemplating leaving, he heard a distant noise. Did someone just call his name? His heart raced as his mind tried to process the familiar-sounding voice. It couldn't be!
~~~~~
"Draco!" Harry called over the beating of the drums. His heart was in his throat. A year it had been since he saw that face, since he had kissed those lips, since he had felt that body beneath him, around him. Gods, how he had missed that!
"Draco!" he called again. Finally, after the fourth time, and with Harry almost on top of him, Draco looked up.
~~~~~
"Harry?" He was sure he was seeing things. But as the image drew nearer, he knew it was Harry -- his Harry, in the flesh.
The brunette approached at record speed through the crowd, but just as he was almost nose-to-nose with Draco, he stopped in his tracks. Draco wasn't sure what had stopped him, but as his mind caught up with his senses he was glad that he had. It wouldn't do -- not one bit -- to throw himself into Harry's arms as though the last year hadn't happened. As though he hadn't been crushed and left to deal with the pain, the loss, on his own.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.
"I'm here to see you."
"You could have owled me."
"I needed to see you."
"Really? Just like that? No warning, no anything for a year. Then you just show up."
Harry had the decency to look ashamed. "I figured you would be here."
"Oh, that's rich, Potter!" Harry winced at the use of his last name. Good. "It doesn't take much to figure out that I'd show up at the same place I go every year on this day. I suppose you're quite proud of yourself, figuring that out all by yourself. Oooh, look at the brilliant Gryffindor." Draco knew he sounded childish and petulant, but he couldn't help it. Maturity was beyond him at this point. Lashing out at Harry -- no, Potter -- was one sure way to keep his emotions in check.
"Could we go somewhere to talk?" he asked, eyes pleading.
"I'm sure we're capable of such a thing, but why would I agree to that? I am enjoying the Festival."
"No you're not," Harry said quietly. Damn! Harry could always see through him.
"Oh, and I suppose you are a Seer now too?"
"No, it's just that I noticed --"
"Very well, Potter. Let's go over there." He pointed to a picnic table in the distance that looked reasonably secluded, and far enough away from the drummers that they should be able to carry on a conversation.
~~~~~
Without preamble, as soon as they sat down, Draco decided to take charge of the conversation. Harry had surprised him, but he would not give him the upper hand in this.
"So, Potter, have you figured out who you are yet?"
Harry smiled weakly. "I think so."
"And who are you?" He wasn't even trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
"Someone who made a terrible mistake by hurting the one person that he loved most in this world."
Ouch! "Loved? As in past tense?"
"Loved. Loves. Will always love."
Oh. Hope soared in Draco's chest, but he hadn't forgotten the pain of losing Harry a year ago, the pain that was always lingering so close to the surface. He thought back to Hermione's words, about how Harry wasn't thinking clearly when he left. He knew, as he looked into Harry's eyes now, that she had been right. Here before him was Harry. That man who left a year ago was merely a shell. Perhaps he could bring himself to forgive this Harry.
"So are you here to stay?" he dared to ask, dared to hope.
"I hope so."
"You hope so? What's that supposed to mean?" He couldn't believe the audacity of the man in front of him! "Why did you even come here? What exactly is it that you expect of me? Where do I fall in your plans, or am I even a part of your plans at all?" Draco had stood up to leave, furious at Harry.
"You are my plans," Harry said. Draco took his seat again, looking at him intently. "You are the only reason I am here, Draco. If you want me, if you will have me back, I am yours. If not, I don't think I could bear to stay in England. There's just too much pain, too many memories. I don't think I could see you every day and not be with you."
"I can't promise you anything, Harry. You hurt me too much. You left me without a second thought, and it nearly killed me."
"I'm sorry. I know that I hurt you."
"No, Harry, I don't think you do. You can't possibly know how it feels to be discarded, thrown away, cast aside as though you meant nothing. You promised me the world and then ripped it out from under me. I don't know if I can ever trust anything you say ever again."
Harry looked into Draco's eyes, and for the first time really saw the pain in them. "Gods, Draco, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I couldn't feel anything myself at the time. I was just going through the motions of life. I was watching you trying to reach me, but you couldn't; no one could. So, I thought it would be best for everyone if I left. That way, I couldn't continue hurting you the way I had been, a little more each day. I didn't think I'd ever be better, and I couldn't drag you down with me. I thought it might hurt you less if I just let you get on with your life. I know my leaving did hurt you, but I didn't really know how much pain I had caused. You deserved better than that."
"Yes, I did. And I do. And now, one year later, you come back and expect to pick up where we left off? Now that I am finally moving on with my life? Now that I think there may be the slightest chance of getting over you? You have a lot of nerve! How can you do this to me? What the hell do you want from me?"
"You're right, Draco. I am being incredibly selfish. I had only hoped ... well ... perhaps it's just too much to expect. I don't deserve you, but I just keep hoping that maybe I didn't completely kill our love. That maybe, in time, you could forgive me. That maybe ... oh, hell, Draco. I love you more than life itself. It took me a year and a trip to the other side of the world to get it -- to really get it. But I did. And I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you. I am not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to. If you tell me to leave right now and never look back, I will. I deserve no better. But if ... if only you could give me a chance to earn back your trust, and win back your love ..."
"You never lost my love," Draco said, barely above a whisper.
Harry was sure his heart skipped a beat at those words. He was about to speak, when Draco's raised hand stopped him.
"But I don't trust you, Harry. And I don't know if I ever will. I am scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of you. Of the power that you have over me. I had never let anyone in before, Harry, and when I did, look what happened. I am scared to love anyone. But I already love you, so you have this back way in through all the walls I have built around me. And that, more than anything, scares me. I don't know if I could go through what I did this past year again, Harry. It almost killed me." There were those words again, and as he heard them, it broke Harry's heart to know that he had been the cause of such pain.
"Draco, I -- "
"No, Harry, let me speak. I need to know that I can trust you with my heart again. It won't be easy. You can't push me."
"I won't," Harry promised.
"Yes, you will, Harry." Draco knew him too well to believe otherwise.
"Yes, I will," Harry acknowledged with the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips.
"And when you do, I will push back."
"Fair enough," Harry agreed.
"And," Draco continued, "when I say that you need to give me space --"
"I will give you space," Harry finished for him. Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I promise."
"And you will never, ever leave me again." It was not a question.
"And I will never, ever leave you again," Harry promised, and he reached over to take Draco's hand in his. He knew that this was a huge leap of faith for Draco, and that he was trusting Harry with his heart. He knew that Draco was not going to make this easy on him. Well, Harry didn't deserve easy after the year he'd put him through. He knew that this was in no way a 'happily ever after' ending from some fairy tale. It was just a first step.
Harry had a lot to prove, a lot to make up for. But he was willing to do it. He was profoundly grateful that Draco was at least willing to let him try. The rest was a matter of time.
He looked up into the grey depths of Draco's eyes and repeated, "I will never, ever leave you again."
Draco nodded and squeezed Harry's hand. "Well, I suppose that's a start."
Author's Note: The title "Passerà" means "It Will Pass"
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: charmed310
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word count: ~9900 words
Genre: angst, romance
Summary: Harry finds himself going through the motions of life. Not sure how he got here, but sure he can't continue on this way, he decides to leave England and the wizarding world behind. But what about Draco?
Author's Note 1: Written for the hds_beltane fic exchange, as a gift to frayach. Thanks to twistedm for all the hard work that went into making the fest a reality!
Author's Note 2: A big thanks to charmed310, my awesome and speedy beta, who also came up with the absolutely perfect title for this! All remaining mistakes are mine.
Harry stood next to Draco, watching the Beltane fire on Calton Hill. This was the first time he had been to the Edinburgh Beltane Fire Festival, and Draco thought it would be good for them to get out. He was worried about Harry, he had said. He wanted to do something to get his mind off the war and get him to try living again.
As he watched the May Queen and her Court and listened to the Processional Drummers of Beltane, Harry felt detached, as if he were watching the events of someone else's life unfold before him, or as though he were in a dream. It all felt surreal to him; not quite there. He was not quite there. Of course, logically, he knew that he was standing beside Draco, in front of a fire, surrounded by hundreds of people, wizards and Muggles alike, but he felt alone. So very, very alone. He felt nothing, actually. Empty. He stared into the fire, mesmerized, yet unfeeling. How was that possible?
Harry stood at the precipice between past and future. His past had been mapped out for him from birth. He was the wizarding world's saviour-to-be, and he had been moulded, trained, manipulated, and used. That was how he felt now -- used. He was not yet twenty, but he felt so much older, so worn. And as he looked ahead to his future, he saw nothing.
His past had been a series of confrontations, reactions, battles of one sort or another. He went from one to another without question, without asking for direction. He had thought that he had choices, that he had control. He was a fool. He had been played like a piano, moved like a marionette by the skilled hands of many a witch and wizard. Oh, and Muggles too. Let us not forget the Muggles.
Voldemort had ripped his parents away from him. Dumbledore had ripped him away from the wizarding world. His remaining 'family' had tried to rip away his magic. As he thought about these things, he realized that he had been torn into fragments long before the war. That was merely the icing on the cake.
~~~~~
Standing there that night on the hill, Harry made up his mind. He wasn't living any more -- if he ever really had lived. He was merely existing, and he didn't know what that meant. All he did know was that he needed ... something. Anything.
He needed to feel again. He knew that the existence he was leading wasn't fair to Draco either. Draco truly cared for him, but what good was he in return? He couldn't feel anything any more, and Draco deserved far better than that. He was full of life, full of spirit, and Harry was slowly, gradually draining that spirit out of him. He knew that he was; he could see it happening, even if Draco couldn't or wouldn't admit it. Harry knew, on an abstract level, that he loved Draco, but he could no longer feel that love. Like every other emotion for Harry, love was just ... gone. Empty. Flat.
~~~~~
"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that night as they arrived back at their flat.
Harry turned a pained look towards Draco, and this time he answered. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Leaving?" Draco looked at him, confusion all over his face.
"Yes, leaving. Going away," Harry said.
"Going where exactly?"
"Anywhere. Just not here."
"Well that's nice." His eyes had hardened with Harry's last remark.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Really? So do tell ... exactly which way did you mean it?" His body had stiffened, the invisible but ever-present walls around him growing in strength.
"I mean that I need to get away. I need to do this for me. I feel like my life has been directed by outside forces since the day I was born. Destiny, fate, prophecy -- whatever it was back then led me to where I am today."
"So what exactly does that have to do with you leaving now?"
"I can't explain it."
"That's convenient."
"No, really. I don't know how to put it into words."
"Try." Draco's look was menacing.
"I need to not be me for a while."
"Good luck with that," Draco said sarcastically.
"I told you that I couldn't explain it."
"You said 'a while'. What does that mean exactly? A day? A week? A month? A year? If you need to get away for 'a while', we can go to any number of the Malfoy properties around the world."
"No. What I meant was that I need to get away from who I am. From what I am. Just not be me."
"How can you not be you? One can hardly escape one's self, Harry. You are who you are."
"But that's just it, Draco. I don't know who I am any more. I don't know if I ever did. For now I just need to make a clean break from everything and everyone that are part of my past." Draco pinned him with a glare that could have rivalled Lucius' in his heyday. "I need to try to figure out who I am. And I can't do that without starting fresh."
"Well, don't let me keep you, then," shot Draco, and he left the flat.
~~~~~
Harry awoke the next morning to find that Draco hadn't returned. Disappointed, but not entirely surprised, he had a quick breakfast, packed his clothes, and headed for the airport. He had decided to leave the country the Muggle way, to avoid being traced or eventually tracked down. The night before, after Draco had left, he had booked a flight out of the country, and had conjured up a reasonable passport and was willing to cast a well-placed Confundus Charm on any overly efficient officials if necessary.
While he waited for his flight to be called, he decided to write two letters. One was addressed to everyone, including Draco. The second was for Draco's eyes only, with a note to "read last".
I am writing this letter to say goodbye, and to try to explain why I have left. I don't think I could have said what I needed to say in person without messing up completely. Call it the Slytherin in me, but this time I'm sneaking away. Right now, I don't know if this will be forever, but I do know that I need to make a clean break from the wizarding world, and from England.
I feel like I am stuck between my past and my future, with no idea which way to go. I have spent my life doing what was expected of me, and right now I feel the need to do something for me.
This may seem selfish, and I suppose in many ways it is, but it's what I have to do. I don't even feel like I'm living any more. I exist. Day after day I get up to watch the world go by. I feel ... well, actually I don't feel. I can't seem to feel anything any more. And I can't hurt the people around me by feeling nothing. I can't live like this, so I'm leaving England and the magical world behind.
I will miss you all, but I really do think this is best for everyone. Please respect my wishes, and do not look for me. Yes, that means you, Hermione!
Love, Harry
The letter to Draco was more difficult, because Harry knew that he was hurting him, even if he had thought it was best for Draco as well as himself. There was so much he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how.
Dear Draco,
Please do not think any of this has to do with you, because it doesn't. It has everything to do with me. I know that sounds like some standard break-up line, "it's not you, it's me" but that's not what this is. The night before I left, I explained a little bit about what I have been feeling (or not feeling) lately, and the reason I needed to leave.
Believe me when I say that, above all others, I want to be with you. If I thought for a moment that I could accomplish what I need to do without leaving you behind, I would. But I watch you, Draco. I have watched the light slowly leave your eyes, as you watch me retreat into myself. It's not fair to you. I know that I'm hurting you by leaving, but you have to believe that I would hurt you more if I stayed.
I hope you have it in your heart to accept what I'm saying. I don't expect forgiveness, but I do hope for understanding. Please don't hate me.
I will always love you,
Harry
He sealed the letters, using the last bit of magic he would use for a very long time, and posted the letters the Muggle way, addressed to his and Draco's flat. He knew that he should feel regret, sorrow, perhaps loss, but he still felt nothing.
~~~~~
Twelve hours later, Harry exited a train in a small town in rural Alberta, Canada. He had no plan, and didn't know what he was going to do with himself, but he was satisfied that this was as good a place as any to start a new life. He had decided where he was going by closing his eyes and pointing to a spot on a train map just before boarding. Small town living it was.
He settled himself at the local inn, grabbed a Muggle newspaper, and set about starting over. He was Harry Potter, nobody special. If he could have felt something, he was sure he would have felt a sense of relief.
~~~~~
"What do you mean, he's gone?" screeched Hermione.
"I mean that he has left the premises, Granger. I would have thought that much was obvious." Her glare didn't waver. "He left. No forwarding address, no planned date of return, no little notes, nothing."
"That doesn't sound like Harry," Ron interjected.
"Don't you think I know that? He hasn't been himself lately, not since the war. He's been gradually pulling away from everything and everyone."
"I hadn't noticed," Hermione said guiltily.
"He told me about this last night, and when all was said and done, I left and spent the night at the Manor. When I returned this morning, he was gone, as were all his clothes."
"Why didn't you try to stop him?" Ron accused.
"Don't you think I did?" Draco was on the verge of tears -- no, he wouldn't cry in front of them -- and he didn't need a guilt trip to add to the heaviness in his heart. He was already asking himself the same question. "I guess I had hoped he wouldn't really leave," he said quietly to himself.
"Apparently, you didn't try hard enough!" barked Ron.
"Really, Weasley? Have you ever tried to stop Harry from doing something he was determined to do?" At the nod of Ron's head, he continued. "And how did that turn out for you? Did you manage it?" As he watched Ron's gaze drop to the floor, he added, "Right. I thought not."
"But why?" Hermione cried. She wasn't doing as well as Draco at holding back her emotions.
"Something about wanting to figure out who he really is. He's gone his whole life being manipulated, and now he wants to get as far away from the source of that as possible. Including magic."
"What?!" Ron sounded incredulous. "He's giving up magic? But why?"
"How the hell should I know?" Draco snapped. "I don't think even he knows."
They stood in stunned silence for a few minutes, Hermione's sniffling the only sound to be heard. Eventually, she spoke up.
"How are you, Draco?" He was so stunned at the sincerity in her voice, he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind, and be sure he had heard correctly. "This can't be easy on you. I mean, just when you ..."
"Awful," he answered, voice cracking and eyes blinking back tears that threatened to flow.
"Oh, Draco!" Hermione cried, as she flung herself at him, pulling him into a bear hug. He stared at Ron, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. When Ron looked at him and shrugged, Draco put his arms around her and returned the hug. He put his head on her shoulder, and took what little comfort he could from this friend of Harry's who owed him nothing. He was sure that she would never know just how much that small gesture had meant to him.
~~~~~
Harry decided to take a week or so to get to know the town before he went in search of work. He knew it was a farming community, so he felt sure that he could find employment as a hired hand. He was young and fit, and never shied away from hard work. He figured there was something to be said for his Muggle upbringing.
~~~~~
Two days after Harry had left the letters he had sent from the airport arrived. Draco placed them on the coffee table and just stared at them. As long as he didn't read them, there was a chance that this wasn't happening. A chance that Harry hadn't left him. A chance that he would come through the door at any moment. A chance that this was all just a bad dream. Denial, thy name is Draco, he thought ruefully.
For three days, Draco didn't open the letters. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Then Hermione dropped by.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
"How do you think?" he said in a despondent and somewhat desperate voice.
You know, Draco, I've been thinking about what you said about Harry, about how he's been feeling and acting lately."
"And?"
"And I think he may be suffering from depression. I read --"
"Well there's a surprise. You read about it somewhere," he said as he rolled his eyes at her. "What does it matter anyway?"
"Well, it means that he isn't thinking rationally right now. He probably doesn't feel much of anything."
"And that is supposed to make me feel better?"
"Not better, no. But it might help you to accept that his decision to leave had nothing to do with you, or anyone really."
"So what you're telling me is that he somehow managed to make it through his entire miserable life, he finally killed Voldemort and saved the bloody world, and when everyone else begins celebrating, he plummets into depression?"
"It could be what Muggles call post-traumatic stress, or any number of things. All I know is that the Harry we know wouldn't act like this. He wouldn't run away from his problems, from his life, from his friends, and he especially wouldn't run away from you. I think he may be much more troubled than he let on."
"This isn't making me feel any better, Granger."
"Er ... sorry? I just thought you'd want to know."
"Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you. Of course I want to know. It's just that now I probably won't be able to remain angry with him, and I had such high hopes of dwelling on that, perhaps resurrecting some of my old not-so-pleasant feelings for him, and channelling that anger to get me through this."
"Well, you may just have to let your friends help you instead." She smiled hopefully.
His eyes inadvertently fell upon the letters on the table, and Hermione's eyes followed his gaze. She went over and picked up the letters.
"Are these from Harry?" Draco nodded in response. "When did they arrive? And why haven't you opened them?"
"They arrived three days ago, and I can't. I just can't."
"What if something's happened to him? What if he left a forwarding address? What if he changed his mind, and asked you to join him?"
Draco's head was reeling with all the questions being fired at him. "Face it, Hermione, he's gone. These letters are his final goodbye, and I just can't bear to read them."
"Not reading them won't bring him back, you know."
"Why not? Why can't it? Why can't I just keep hoping that I'll wake up from this nightmare?"
For the second time, Draco found himself in the arms of a bushy-haired Muggle-born Gryffindor, finding comfort. She held him close, and this time, without Ron being there, he was unable to hold back. His entire body shook as his sobs washed over him in waves, and he kept asking, "Why, Harry? Why? Why?"
~~~~~
Two weeks after arriving in town, Harry had found himself a job and a place to stay. A local widow, who always hired additional help in the spring, took an instant liking to Harry. She said that he reminded her of her husband in his youth. She hired him at once, and set him up in a room above the old barn, which was no longer used for anything except living quarters for the help, and storage for some extra riding gear.
Harry looked around at his new home and was pleased with what he saw. It was small, but clean. Besides, he had lived in a cupboard for years. Compared to that, this was downright palatial.
~~~~~
Draco and Harry were in the wilderness, night rapidly approaching, sloshing through the mud, drenched with rain, looking for the final Horcrux.
"Why the fuck can't I cast a Warming Charm, a Drying Charm, or even an Impervious Charm?" Harry complained.
"Because, Potter, oh brilliant one, magic doesn't work here."
"Well, that's just lovely, isn't it?"
"I'm sure we'll be fine. Stop being such a baby," he admonished. "What happened to the brave Gryffindor?"
"I'm not scared, you prissy little prat! I'm pissed off. It will take us twice as long to find the damn thing this way, and I just know you are going to be intolerable to be around in no time."
"Me? Who's the one whining about no magic?" No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than Draco lost his footing on a steep decline, and went gracelessly tumbling down the hill. Near the bottom, his foot hit a protruding rock, and a loud crunch echoed through the air. Harry hurtled himself down the hill after him.
"You've twisted your ankle by the looks of things," Harry told Draco as he felt the joint for any signs of a broken bone. Given what Harry had said just before he took his fall, Draco resisted the urge to cry out in pain. "Does it hurt much?" Harry asked.
"What do you think? It's twice its normal bloody size! I should think even you could figure out that it hurts."
"Yes, well, we thick-headed Gryffindors prefer to get the other person's input when it comes to injuries."
Draco winced as Harry squeezed the ankle. "Sorry about that," Harry apologized.
"You're probably loving this, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That's right. I just love the idea that you are in pain. It couldn't happen to a nicer person." He stood up, pulling Draco to an upright position.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting us out of here. We can't stay out in the open."
"But I can't walk," Draco stated, trying valiantly not to sound pitiful.
"I saw a cave just over there about half a mile. Just lean on me and I'll help you."
Draco gritted his teeth. He hated being helpless. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Harry smiled. He placed his arm around Draco's waist, and took most of his weight, while Draco hobbled along. "I'll set that ankle when we get there, but I want to get hidden away as quickly as we can." Draco nodded his agreement.
Once they made it to the cave, they found a small dry patch and sat down. Harry went about immobilizing Draco’s ankle, by creating a makeshift splint out of parts of his robe, and some pieces of wood he found near the cave. "Sorry," he said. "It’s the best I can do for now."
"It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll live."
"You have to live. Who would make my life hell otherwise?" Harry joked.
Despite the pain he was in, Draco smiled. "My life’s work has not gone in vain, then. Good to know."
Harry left the cave, apparently trying to map out where they might go come morning, but it was too dark to see anything properly. He had also looked for wood that they might use for a fire, but everything was soaked through, he had no matches, and they couldn’t use magic anyway. It was going to be a cold and long night.
Draco must have drifted off. He awoke to find a body snuggled up behind him, arm and leg draped over him. It felt … nice, until he realized just whose body it was. He stiffened, and nudged his elbow into the other man’s ribs. "Potter! Potter, wake up!"
"Wha?"
"Stop cuddling me!" he said, sounding appalled.
"Nope," came the reply, and Harry nuzzled in, pulling Draco even closer.
"Unhand me!" Draco said, trying to squirm away.
"Relax already," Harry said as he tightened his grip. "You fell asleep and I covered you with my robe to keep you warm. The blankets we brought were useless, because we had shrunk them to make them easier to carry, but I couldn’t unshrink them without magic. Meanwhile, you had started to shiver. It got worse as time went on, and the only way I could think of to keep you warm was with body heat. So I’m not moving."
"But we’re warm now," Draco argued, although rather weakly. He was quite comfortable.
"Mmm, and I’d like to stay that way, if you don’t mind."
Draco awoke from his dream, shivering almost as badly as he had that night, only to find that there was no Harry to keep him warm now. He drew the covers up around himself, and willed sleep to return.
~~~~~
Harry went about his work, keeping mainly to himself. Often, the other hired hands went into town on a Friday night, to tie one on at the only pub, but Harry wasn’t interested in that. He wasn’t ready for friends. Not yet, anyway.
It had been two months since he had left England, but he still wasn’t really feeling a sense of loss, except in a somewhat detached way. He wondered if he would ever feel again.
~~~~~
"I think this could be it," said Harry.
Draco sighed. "You’ve said that three times already. What makes you think -"
"Shhh. Come here."
Draco hobbled over, his ankle still not able to bear his weight. He couldn’t wait to get past this warded area and cast a healing charm. He hoped this wouldn’t cause any permanent damage, not healing it right away. "What is it?"
"Look." Harry’s eyes had lit up, and he pointed across the small pond in front of them. On the opposite bank was a light that seemed completely out of place. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere; it was just … there. "That has to be it."
"You know, Potter, I think you might actually be right. Who would have thought a Gryffindor would be able to find something like this on his own?"
"But I’m not on my own. You’re with me." The smile he gave Draco felt like a warm breeze on a summer’s night. Why such a statement warmed him, Draco didn’t know, but he was quite suddenly very glad that he had come with Harry on this quest, twisted ankle and all.
"All I’ve done is slow you down," he pointed out.
"That’s not true, and you know it. Sure, it might have been a bit faster otherwise, but it also would have been terribly boring." They were making their way around the pond to the spot where the light was glowing. "You really are good company when you’re not trying to piss me off, you know."
"I … well … hmpf!"
Harry chuckled. "Your life’s work, remember?"
As they approached the spot, they saw a small wooden chest sitting atop a stone in a small clearing of a wood. Harry reached for it, but Draco stopped him. "What if it’s cursed?"
"Oh, it’s most definitely cursed," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"Then don’t touch it!"
"Aw, I didn’t know you cared."
Draco’s cheeks went pink. "What do you mean to do, just pick it up? Are you crazy?"
"Well, I figure we can’t do magic here, so maybe the same is true for this object. Maybe the curse will only take effect once we leave the vicinity."
"You figure? Maybe? Are you mad?"
Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Quite mad, actually." And then he scooped the box from its place. Nothing happened. Draco let out a breath.
Suddenly, a surge of magic washed over and around them. "Well," Harry said. "I think we’re safe to assume that this really is the final Horcrux, then."
"Brilliant! Now what do we do?"
Harry pulled out his wand, and cast a quick healing charm on Draco’s ankle. "Did it work?" he asked.
"Yes," Draco said, elated. The ground beneath them started to shake.
Harry grabbed hold of Draco and Apparated them back to Grimmauld Place, then promptly cast a Binding Spell on the box, preventing it from exploding or otherwise wreaking havoc.
"We did it!" Harry screamed as he embraced Draco, and planted a kiss right smack on his mouth!
Draco must have looked dumbfounded as Harry pulled back. "Er ... sorry about that ... caught up in the moment … er … sorry … won’t happen again …"
Draco realized that he hadn’t minded at all. Then he did the most Gryffindor thing he’d ever done in his life, and shut Harry up completely by kissing him quite soundly. The kiss was rough, wet, and unbelievably exciting. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths with abandon, and then it was over. When Draco pulled back, he looked Harry straight in the eye, and said, "I am not sorry."
Draco awoke this time with a smile on his face. Remembering the days when he and Harry had first started dating always did that for him. He always found it ironically amusing that Voldemort, the wizard who couldn't love, was in large part responsible for Draco finding love - with Harry, of all people.
Not long after he awoke, however, reality came crashing down on him more harshly than the rain on that day they went searching for the Horcrux. No matter how drenched, injured and cold he had been then, it was nothing compared to the bleakness of more days, weeks, months without Harry in his life. With that thought in mind, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower to start another Harry-free day. Not that there was much point.
~~~~~
Harry enjoyed the manual labour on the farm. It was honest work, and he thrived on it, and how it allowed him to escape his thoughts, if only for the time he kept busy. He was surprised that he hadn't missed magic very much, although he couldn't say that he never wanted to use it again. The longer he was there, the more he realized that this was a break for him, not a life change. As time passed, he felt the itch to perform magic become more pronounced.
He reasoned that it wouldn't be long before he could no longer resist the urge. He knew, without doubt, that he would return to the wizarding world eventually. He just didn't know when or even where that would happen. He still wasn't convinced England was where he belonged. But he was a wizard. He couldn't deny that forever.
~~~~~
"That's it! Out of this place now!" Hermione ordered. "I will not take no for an answer, Draco, so don't even bother trying."
"You are insufferable, woman!"
She merely laughed. "Yes, well, tell me something I've never heard before."
"Honestly, how do your friends put up with you?" he asked, although his words were not nearly as harsh as one might expect.
"I don't know, Draco. You tell me. After all, I consider you a friend." His eyes went wide at her words, as they settled in like a warm hug.
He had to acknowledge to himself that he did, in fact, consider her to be a friend now. Huh. I wonder how that happened.
"Draco, it has been three months since Harry left. You need to start living again. You need to, at the very least, get out of this house."
"It's too soon, Hermione."
"Too soon for what? To live? That's ridiculous!" Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not asking you to go out on a date. A group of us is going out for the afternoon to watch a local Quidditch match and you are coming with us. That's final."
~~~~~
It was good to feel something at last, even if it was the burning of his muscles, coupled with the ache of loss. At least it was something. At least he felt alive.
Over the five months he had worked the farm, Harry had re-established his connection with reality. He was experiencing life, feeling emotions, appreciating his surroundings. He didn't know if it was the fresh country air, the physical labour, the excellent food, or the company he was keeping. He suspected it was a mix of all these things, with a dash of anonymity thrown in for good measure.
Along with his renewed connection with his feelings came a deep longing. Not that he had, for even one day, stopped thinking about Draco. But now the emotions, the love, and the pain that accompanied the knowledge of what he had done and what he had lost overwhelmed him sometimes.
He knew that his decision had been made in haste, when he wasn't thinking straight, but would Draco accept that? Had he moved on? Was he with someone else now? Had he found love with someone more deserving than Harry? The pain accompanying that thought was rather like a knife entering and then twisting inside his stomach slowly, methodically, as though in an effort to inflict the most prolonged and excruciating agony.
He had been remembering their early days more and more lately. They were always full of such passion. Of course their relationship, even when they were in school together, was never anything less than passionate. They always did everything with such force and conviction that when they finally got together as lovers, it should have been no small wonder that it was explosive, but in a whole new -- and wonderful -- way. And when they fought, making up in the end was perhaps the best of all. Whoever said make-up sex was the best knew what they were talking about.
Harry groaned as he realized that, besides his heart, another part of his anatomy was missing Draco more and more each day. Gods, it had been so long. On the plus side, he supposed he should be pleased that his libido seemed to be back on track, after such a long hiatus. He slowly made his way into the shower, hoping that the hot water and a quick wank would leave him ... relaxed enough to make it into the main house for dinner.
~~~~~
"It's lovely to see you looking so refreshed, Draco." Narcissa smiled at her son as they sat in the garden of Malfoy Manor. It was an unusually warm fall day, and they were taking advantage of the lovely weather by taking their tea outdoors. "You look like you have been sleeping better lately."
"Thank you, Mother. As a matter of fact, I am well-rested lately."
"Does this mean you are finally over that fling you had with Potter?"
Ouch. That stung. He had never, ever thought of his time with Harry as a fling. Sure, he had had flings in his day, but with Harry it was more. Even their first kiss was more. It was never halfway with Harry. It was all or nothing. He snorted. And look at where that got you, he thought ruefully.
"It wasn't a fling, thank you Mother, and no, I'm not over him." Narcissa looked poised to interject some ridiculous 'feel good' diatribe, but Draco stopped her. "But I will be. Eventually. It will just take some more time, that's all."
"More time?" she asked incredulously. "I should think you've wasted enough of that over the likes of him already!"
"Mother," Draco warned.
"I know a lovely witch that would be thrilled to help you get over this ... whatever it is you're feeling. I can just call up her mother --"
Draco gritted his teeth. He really thought they were past this by now. "Mother," he began carefully, not wanting to simply tell her to piss off and be on his way. "I am gay. I am not interested in meeting any witch who will try to help me through this time of my life. I will make it through this break-up, and I will be the stronger for it." Narcissa smiled at her son, love shining in her eyes. "But I will still be gay at the end of the day. There is nothing you can do to change that, and I'll thank you to stop trying."
Narcissa looked appropriately abashed. "I just thought --"
"No, Mother, you didn't think. That's the problem. I am gay. Accept it. Move on. And for Merlin's sake, don't try to set me up with any wizards either!"
~~~~~
Harry stared out the window, watching the first snow of the season begin to cover the now bare fields. They had finished up the last of the fall clean-up the week before, and the last of the hired help, save Harry, had left yesterday. Time for me to go, he thought to himself. Only he didn't have anywhere to go. He wondered if he even wanted to go home, if he even considered it his home any more. He did, however, want to see Draco again. He couldn't deny that.
"Harry, dear, what has you looking so down? Homesick, perhaps?" Marge asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"Not exactly," he answered, not sure what to say.
"I see." With a bit of a twinkle in her eye, and a knowing look, she asked, "So, what's her name?"
Harry braced himself for what he was about to say. He knew he was in the heart of conservative Canada, and wasn't sure of the reaction he would get. But he wasn't about to lie to Marge. They had grown close since he had come here, and he wasn't about to taint their friendship with lies or half-truths. Well, aside from the fact that she didn't know he was a wizard. But that couldn't be helped. Besides, if she told him to get out, he wasn't any worse off anyway.
"His name, actually," he said, bracing himself for a retort.
To her credit, Marge didn't miss a beat. "Alright then. What's his name?"
Harry was relieved at her easy acceptance. She had become the closest thing to family Harry had in his life now, and he wasn't sure he was ready to give that up just yet. "I'd rather not say. I think it would make things too real if I did."
"Well, then. Tell me all about this mystery man of yours."
Harry spent the next couple hours telling Marge all about Draco. She seemed rather amused by their rocky start, was intrigued by their relationship, but confused by their parting. She had asked why he had left, and Harry found that he didn't have a suitable answer. He told her what he had said at the time, but he could tell by her furrowed brow that she wasn't convinced. In fact, it sounded rather hollow even to Harry. He supposed that was a reflection of his feelings, or lack thereof, at the time. He had feigned exhaustion and excused himself, afraid to face any more questions.
He had a restless sleep that night, images of Draco creeping unbidden into his subconscious.
He had not replayed scenes so much as snippets. A series of freeze frames flashed quickly, taking him from Madame Malkin's the first time they met - to the Hogwarts Express when Harry refused Draco's hand - to first year and Neville's Remembrall - to second year's Duelling Club - to third year when Draco was injured by Buckbeak - to fourth year and how Draco had looked at the Yule Ball - to fifth year and being caught by Draco outside the Room of Requirement - to sixth year and Myrtle's bathroom, Sectumsempra, and all that blood - to Draco and Snape's arrival at Grimmauld Place - to finding the last Horcrux - to their first kiss. Harry had woken up in a cold sweat, head spinning from all the images. He touched his fingers to his lips, longing for the kiss to have been real.
He fell back into a fitful sleep after that, to be taken on a decidedly more sensuous journey. He recalled, in vivid detail, the first time they had had sex - it was fast, furious, and passionate. Neither had lasted long, both visibly shaken afterwards. He replayed the first time they had made love - slow, gentle, patient. Then it seemed that he was going to remember all the places they had ever been together. Gentle and loving, angry and forceful, passionate and forgiving. When he awoke the next time, his breathing was laboured, his pulse racing, and his body ready. His mind was surely playing some sort of cruel joke on him.
Sleep did not come easily after that, but eventually he drifted off, thinking of Paris. The dreams he had after that were jumbled, but Draco was there. Always there. Watching, waiting, calling for him.
~~~~~
Draco opened the Prophet to see a picture of a family on vacation in France. At once his memory went back to the time he had practically dragged Harry to Paris.
Harry, you desperately need culture in your life," Draco had insisted.
"But I have you. What more culture do I need?"
"Nice try, Scarhead."
"Hey!"
"That's what you get for trying to manipulate a master manipulator. Gryffindors don't stand a chance against Slytherins in that department."
"Oh, but I would have made a great Slytherin. The hat even told me so."
"What? Surely the Sorting Hat didn't -- but it put you in -- you're lying. That's impossible. Harry 'do-gooder' Potter would never have lasted in Slytherin house!"
"Hmm. I seem to have lasted quite fine with you."
"Yes, well, I have ulterior motives. You wouldn't stand a chance otherwise."
"Whatever you say, honey," Harry said, emphasizing the last word, knowing how Draco loathed pet names. "The Sorting Hat told me I would do well in Slytherin, but I told it I didn't want to go there, so it put me in Gryffindor."
Draco's look was of utter shock. "Whatever made you refuse Slytherin?"
"You. You ruffled my feathers even back then. So you see? You are the reason I am a Gryffindor. It's only fitting that you should have to suffer the indignity of being stuck in public with such an uncouth partner."
"Be that as it may, we can talk more about school houses later. For now, we go to Paris. You will experience culture, you will enjoy it, and we will both be the better for it."
"If you say so," Harry had said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
When they arrived in Paris, they checked into their hotel, and Harry went immediately into predator mode. He launched himself at the blonde, who was planning their afternoon visit to the Louvre, and pushed Draco onto the plush king sized bed in the centre of the plush room.
"But Harry -- mpfh." He had pinned his boyfriend down on the bed, waved his wand to rid them of their clothes, and begun his exploration of the other man's lithe body, not once relinquishing contact from his lips. Harry's tongue explored Draco's mouth, and Draco was at once lost in the taste that was uniquely Harry. He loved the taste, the scent, the feel of Harry. His senses were on overload, and soon his squirming ceased to be resistant -- Louvre, what Louvre? -- and became more participatory. Harry released his mouth, to kiss a trail to his ear, where he licked playfully at the lobe, before nibbling it just so. Draco was close ... so close ... and they had barely begun.
Harry kissed and licked a path down Draco's neck to his chest. Swirling his tongue around a nipple, he pulled it into his mouth, suckling and then nibbling as he let it go to move on to the other one. He moved slowly down his torso, until his tongue was painting circles around his navel, darting in every once in a while, each time eliciting a moan from Draco, and a twitch from the blonde's cock.
"Harry," he groaned, grabbing Harry by the hair, and dragging him up for another kiss, this one filled with lust and promise. As they broke free, he growled, "I want you inside me."
Harry smiled, but shook his head. "Not yet. I want to taste you first," he said, and he made his way, licking a path directly from Draco's chin down to his navel, where he continued his ministrations. His hands trailed down the outside of Draco's legs, then back up along his inner thighs, then made their way up to his hips, where Harry's thumbs began rubbing circles into his skin.
"Harry," Draco begged now. Harry smiled, then moved down to tease the tip of Draco's leaking cock with his tongue, licking and spreading the pre-come over the head, and sending a wave of heat through Draco's body. "Gods, Harry. Now, please."
Harry didn't need any further encouragement, and he took the head into his mouth, tasting Draco. A groan of pleasure echoed through the room, though Draco wasn't sure which one of them had made the sound. Harry pulled free, licking a path from the base to the head of Draco's cock, and then inserted the tip of his tongue into the leaking slit, making the blonde scream in ecstasy. He took Draco's full length into his mouth, hummed in pleasure, sending shock waves through Draco's entire body, then slowly made his way up to the tip, sucking hungrily as he went. The sight of Harry's lips stretched around his throbbing cock, coupled with the sensations Harry's talented tongue was creating, almost sent Draco over the edge that quickly. Merlin, was this man ever good at this!
Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, Harry inserted one finger past the ring of muscle into Draco's hole. He wondered briefly when Harry had managed to coat his fingers with lube, but quickly stopped caring, as Harry inserted another finger, while he continued to give Draco what he was sure had to be the best blowjob of his life. Harry brushed Draco's prostate lightly, but that was enough. Draco felt his balls tighten, and the familiar rush of heat spread throughout him, as he came down Harry's throat, screaming Harry's name.
Harry swallowed every last drop. "You taste so fucking good," he whispered, his voice husky, as he made his way slowly back up Draco's body, stopping to take first one nipple, then the other, in his mouth. All his nerve endings sensitive to the touch, and still coming down from his high, Draco could do little more than whimper in response. Harry took him in a hungry kiss, while he continued to prepare him with his fingers -- three of them now.
"Want you inside me now," Draco growled against Harry's mouth.
Harry removed his fingers and reached for the lube that Draco only just noticed. He quickly coated his own leaking cock, while Draco rested his one leg on Harry's shoulder and lifted his hips in invitation. Harry hesitated a moment, and Draco watched as he paused to marvel at the sight of his lover spread out and ready for him. "So beautiful," Harry said, as he positioned his swollen cock at Draco's entrance.
As Harry breached the entrance and was pulled into Draco's welcoming channel, he let out a gasp. "So tight. So hot. So perfect," he muttered, as he gave Draco time to adjust. As Draco lifted his hips in unspoken demand for more, Harry pulled back, then drove into him. Several thrusts later, Harry was fully seated, and they settled into a steady rhythm.
Their coupling became frantic, Harry muttering incoherently as he pounded into Draco, who was hard again and fisting his own erection. Harry hit his sweet spot several times, and Draco's second orgasm overtook him. Two strokes later, he felt Harry's back stiffen and his channel fill with his lover's hot release, as he heard his name fall from Harry's lips. Together they rode out their ecstasy, and as one came down off their high.
As he lay there on his back, completely sated, Draco closed his eyes and wondered at his good fortune to have found Harry. His musings were interrupted as Harry moved to snuggle into him. Resting his head on Draco's shoulder, he whispered, "Love you."
Draco's eyes flew open, and he looked down at Harry. As he met the hopeful gaze of those deep green eyes, he knew that Harry meant it. He had never felt so complete in all his life. "I love you too."
Draco smiled at the memory, and then frowned as reality came back. Damn it, he had let it happen again. He was almost past this, he had thought, but then the slightest trigger would send him reeling back into the past. Back to a time when he had felt wanted, cherished, loved. Now he was left alone. And to make matters worse, his own memories had left him hard and wanting. Shit!
~~~~~
This time, as Harry stared into the Beltane fire, things were different. He felt the thrum of magic, the surge of life, the energy of the fire. He felt. He was elated.
He had been reluctant to return to England, especially on the eve of the one-year anniversary of his leaving. But Marge had insisted. She had told him that he was utterly useless to her now that he finally realized just what he had lost, and what he had to do, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.
He was under strict instructions to come back to England, to see that gorgeous man he had been raving about -- he didn't remember raving -- and to not give up until he was Harry's again. When Harry had pointed out the obvious -- that he may have found someone else -- she had merely shrugged and said that he at least had to try. He had finally agreed to the trip, promising to return to visit. She had given him a fierce hug, and told him she expected no less, but that he had to bring his mystery man too.
Harry watched the Court players dance about, watched the Green Man die at the touch of the May Queen, be stripped of his garments by the Queen's Handmaidens, and be 'reborn.' Harry felt the beat of the drums, which coursed through him like pure energy -- life -- emanating from the earth.
He couldn't believe how different the experience was this year. He could feel again. He was alive.
He looked around for the familiar shock of white blonde hair in the crowd. He knew that Draco loved to observe both Beltane and Samhain, and he had hoped to run into him here. A public gathering, he had decided, was preferable to a private meeting, if only to make Draco more comfortable. He was always good at keeping up pretences in public, and he would feel less like he was being cornered this way. Or so Harry hoped.
~~~~~
Draco stood, alone, watching the May Queen and her Court. Hermione had wanted to join him, not wanting him to be alone on what was the one-year anniversary of Harry's departure. He had managed, however, to convince her that he would be fine.
He had reasoned that he had been much better lately. True enough, he had been going out more often, spending Sunday afternoons with his mother, and Friday nights with friends. He had attended a few social functions, and had begun working part-time with Severus in his potions lab. He had even recently gone out on a date. Okay, that had been an unmitigated disaster -- entirely the other wizard's fault, of course -- but at least he had made the effort.
Eventually she had relented, which was how he came to find himself on Calton Hill, alone, at the spring festival famous for being the starting point for many marriages. He watched as couple after couple pledged themselves to each other, entering into the "trial marriages" of a year that the festival was famous for. Suddenly he wondered if maybe Hermione had been right. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.
Just as he was contemplating leaving, he heard a distant noise. Did someone just call his name? His heart raced as his mind tried to process the familiar-sounding voice. It couldn't be!
~~~~~
"Draco!" Harry called over the beating of the drums. His heart was in his throat. A year it had been since he saw that face, since he had kissed those lips, since he had felt that body beneath him, around him. Gods, how he had missed that!
"Draco!" he called again. Finally, after the fourth time, and with Harry almost on top of him, Draco looked up.
~~~~~
"Harry?" He was sure he was seeing things. But as the image drew nearer, he knew it was Harry -- his Harry, in the flesh.
The brunette approached at record speed through the crowd, but just as he was almost nose-to-nose with Draco, he stopped in his tracks. Draco wasn't sure what had stopped him, but as his mind caught up with his senses he was glad that he had. It wouldn't do -- not one bit -- to throw himself into Harry's arms as though the last year hadn't happened. As though he hadn't been crushed and left to deal with the pain, the loss, on his own.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.
"I'm here to see you."
"You could have owled me."
"I needed to see you."
"Really? Just like that? No warning, no anything for a year. Then you just show up."
Harry had the decency to look ashamed. "I figured you would be here."
"Oh, that's rich, Potter!" Harry winced at the use of his last name. Good. "It doesn't take much to figure out that I'd show up at the same place I go every year on this day. I suppose you're quite proud of yourself, figuring that out all by yourself. Oooh, look at the brilliant Gryffindor." Draco knew he sounded childish and petulant, but he couldn't help it. Maturity was beyond him at this point. Lashing out at Harry -- no, Potter -- was one sure way to keep his emotions in check.
"Could we go somewhere to talk?" he asked, eyes pleading.
"I'm sure we're capable of such a thing, but why would I agree to that? I am enjoying the Festival."
"No you're not," Harry said quietly. Damn! Harry could always see through him.
"Oh, and I suppose you are a Seer now too?"
"No, it's just that I noticed --"
"Very well, Potter. Let's go over there." He pointed to a picnic table in the distance that looked reasonably secluded, and far enough away from the drummers that they should be able to carry on a conversation.
~~~~~
Without preamble, as soon as they sat down, Draco decided to take charge of the conversation. Harry had surprised him, but he would not give him the upper hand in this.
"So, Potter, have you figured out who you are yet?"
Harry smiled weakly. "I think so."
"And who are you?" He wasn't even trying to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
"Someone who made a terrible mistake by hurting the one person that he loved most in this world."
Ouch! "Loved? As in past tense?"
"Loved. Loves. Will always love."
Oh. Hope soared in Draco's chest, but he hadn't forgotten the pain of losing Harry a year ago, the pain that was always lingering so close to the surface. He thought back to Hermione's words, about how Harry wasn't thinking clearly when he left. He knew, as he looked into Harry's eyes now, that she had been right. Here before him was Harry. That man who left a year ago was merely a shell. Perhaps he could bring himself to forgive this Harry.
"So are you here to stay?" he dared to ask, dared to hope.
"I hope so."
"You hope so? What's that supposed to mean?" He couldn't believe the audacity of the man in front of him! "Why did you even come here? What exactly is it that you expect of me? Where do I fall in your plans, or am I even a part of your plans at all?" Draco had stood up to leave, furious at Harry.
"You are my plans," Harry said. Draco took his seat again, looking at him intently. "You are the only reason I am here, Draco. If you want me, if you will have me back, I am yours. If not, I don't think I could bear to stay in England. There's just too much pain, too many memories. I don't think I could see you every day and not be with you."
"I can't promise you anything, Harry. You hurt me too much. You left me without a second thought, and it nearly killed me."
"I'm sorry. I know that I hurt you."
"No, Harry, I don't think you do. You can't possibly know how it feels to be discarded, thrown away, cast aside as though you meant nothing. You promised me the world and then ripped it out from under me. I don't know if I can ever trust anything you say ever again."
Harry looked into Draco's eyes, and for the first time really saw the pain in them. "Gods, Draco, I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I couldn't feel anything myself at the time. I was just going through the motions of life. I was watching you trying to reach me, but you couldn't; no one could. So, I thought it would be best for everyone if I left. That way, I couldn't continue hurting you the way I had been, a little more each day. I didn't think I'd ever be better, and I couldn't drag you down with me. I thought it might hurt you less if I just let you get on with your life. I know my leaving did hurt you, but I didn't really know how much pain I had caused. You deserved better than that."
"Yes, I did. And I do. And now, one year later, you come back and expect to pick up where we left off? Now that I am finally moving on with my life? Now that I think there may be the slightest chance of getting over you? You have a lot of nerve! How can you do this to me? What the hell do you want from me?"
"You're right, Draco. I am being incredibly selfish. I had only hoped ... well ... perhaps it's just too much to expect. I don't deserve you, but I just keep hoping that maybe I didn't completely kill our love. That maybe, in time, you could forgive me. That maybe ... oh, hell, Draco. I love you more than life itself. It took me a year and a trip to the other side of the world to get it -- to really get it. But I did. And I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you. I am not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to. If you tell me to leave right now and never look back, I will. I deserve no better. But if ... if only you could give me a chance to earn back your trust, and win back your love ..."
"You never lost my love," Draco said, barely above a whisper.
Harry was sure his heart skipped a beat at those words. He was about to speak, when Draco's raised hand stopped him.
"But I don't trust you, Harry. And I don't know if I ever will. I am scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of you. Of the power that you have over me. I had never let anyone in before, Harry, and when I did, look what happened. I am scared to love anyone. But I already love you, so you have this back way in through all the walls I have built around me. And that, more than anything, scares me. I don't know if I could go through what I did this past year again, Harry. It almost killed me." There were those words again, and as he heard them, it broke Harry's heart to know that he had been the cause of such pain.
"Draco, I -- "
"No, Harry, let me speak. I need to know that I can trust you with my heart again. It won't be easy. You can't push me."
"I won't," Harry promised.
"Yes, you will, Harry." Draco knew him too well to believe otherwise.
"Yes, I will," Harry acknowledged with the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips.
"And when you do, I will push back."
"Fair enough," Harry agreed.
"And," Draco continued, "when I say that you need to give me space --"
"I will give you space," Harry finished for him. Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I promise."
"And you will never, ever leave me again." It was not a question.
"And I will never, ever leave you again," Harry promised, and he reached over to take Draco's hand in his. He knew that this was a huge leap of faith for Draco, and that he was trusting Harry with his heart. He knew that Draco was not going to make this easy on him. Well, Harry didn't deserve easy after the year he'd put him through. He knew that this was in no way a 'happily ever after' ending from some fairy tale. It was just a first step.
Harry had a lot to prove, a lot to make up for. But he was willing to do it. He was profoundly grateful that Draco was at least willing to let him try. The rest was a matter of time.
He looked up into the grey depths of Draco's eyes and repeated, "I will never, ever leave you again."
Draco nodded and squeezed Harry's hand. "Well, I suppose that's a start."
Author's Note: The title "Passerà" means "It Will Pass"