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“I'm not fucking gay!” He shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
“Then be bi or pan or whatever, but you're sure as hell not straight!” Harry yelled back. His face was flushed red from shouting. They'd been at it for over an hour and Draco was getting sick of this fight. He swore it happened every few days anymore.
“You don't understand. You weren't raised how I was. My family would never accept this, us!”
“So what, we hide forever? We've been together for two years, Draco, and you practically live here but you won't even talk about moving in.”
“I don't live here.” He scoffed indignantly, but it was a lie and they both knew it. Draco couldn't even remember the last time he'd been to his flat. He had half of Harry’s closet filled with his clothes. He had a side of the bed and his favorite brand of tea in the kitchen. Hell, he'd even been getting mail there for the past few months.
“Save the bullshit for your father.” Harry snapped, arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I said I was sorry! How many times do you want me to say it?”
“Until you actually mean it!”
“Harry…”
“No, I can't do this anymore, Draco. I love you, more than you will ever know, but I can't continue this if you won't admit you love me too.” His voice had dropped to normal conversational levels and he sounded defeated.
“What are you saying?”
“You have to choose. Either you love me or you don't. Either you admit it to everyone, yourself included, or we're done.”
“I…but…” Draco stumbled over his words, his brain not sending anything for his mouth to say. He didn't want to lose Harry, but he couldn't be gay.
“Well?” Harry asked, his green eyes pleading.
“I'm not gay.” He repeated, it was a strained whisper, barely making it past his suddenly dry lips. But Harry heard it none the less.
The other man inhaled sharply, as if he'd been struck. “Then you should leave.”
And then he was at the door, though he couldn't remember walking out of the cozy sitting room and Harry didn't say anything as the door shut behind him.
Draco woke up gasping, tears running down his face and sobs rocking his body. He looked around the room, steel and ebony fixtures, and he remembered where he was.
Three years. It had been three years since that fight. Three years since he'd last seen Harry Potter. He'd chickened out and sent Pansy to pick up his things from Harry’s home. Their home. It should have been their home. She'd returned looking shell shocked, as if she hadn't expected them to have seriously and truly broken up.
It was only now that he realized how ridiculous it had all been. All of his friends had known he was dating Harry. As had all of Harry’s friends and family. It was only Draco’s family that hadn't known and Draco had made himself think that he wasn't really gay if he didn't admit it, even to himself, despite the fact that he slept beside another man every night. And it had driven Harry away. The best two years of his life followed by the three worst.
He’d seen pictures of Harry in the paper, kept the clippings in a locked drawer in his desk. He’d kept up on Harry’s life the best he could in the newspaper articles about the raven haired man’s heroic acts in the line of duty and his appearances at high class events, the same events Draco had once gone to. The same events where they’d first met one another. It seemed so long ago. Draco couldn’t bear to attend them any longer, not since they’d split. At first he told himself it was because they were so dreadfully boring and that he’d always hated them, but he’d stopped lying to himself at some point. He knew that he didn’t go because he was afraid he’d run into Harry or worse, Harry with a glamorous date on his arm. That was something he didn’t want to imagine. He didn’t want to imagine Harry dancing with a gorgeous woman or whispering softly into some man’s ear. It hurt too much to think of Harry moving on with his life, even as Draco was stuck in the same rut after all these years.
Draco lay there for a long time, mind dancing over the many mistakes he’d made and the things they’d cost him. He looked over at the framed picture on his bedside table, the one of Harry grinning into the camera on the Paris beach their first summer together when they’d borrowed the Malfoy family’s vacation home for a week. The picture Draco couldn’t bear to put away into that locked drawer that held everything else Harry related, the pictures, the gifts, the letters. He’d never been able to throw them out, but it hurt too much to look at them. That picture though, it was different. At times when he woke up in the middle of the night, he’d look at that picture, at the pure happiness in those emerald eyes and he’d pretend, for a moment that they were still together.
He wondered where they’d be now, if Draco had simply manned up. Would they be married now? Would he visit the crazy redheads alongside Harry each Christmas? Would the godson Harry adopted be his son as well? Would they be happy? That was the most important one. Would they be happy? Draco liked to think that they would. That they would have coffee in the kitchen every morning like they once had. That they’d travel during the summer to new and beautiful places. That their house would be full of pictures and happy memories. He liked to think that things would have turned out alright whether his parents had disowned him or not. But sometimes that only made it hurt worse, because if he could imagine that things wouldn’t have worked out, that they would’ve made each other miserable, then he didn’t have to feel so bad for mucking it all up. Because he knew it was all his fault. He’d denied the best thing that’d ever happened to him and he’d pushed and pushed, taken everything Harry offered and never once gave anything back. There was no one to blame but himself and he knew it.
Sometimes he wondered if Harry hated him. He’d deserve it. Even worse, he wondered if Harry ever missed him, ever laid in bed and thought of him the way Draco did. He wished that he did, but he doubted it. Harry had never once called or written, though he hadn’t expected him to. It had been Draco who should’ve gone back. It was Draco who should’ve begged for forgiveness. He should have, but he didn’t and it had been three years. Three long, long years. He’d finished medical school, though there’d been no joy when he’d looked out at the audience and saw only his parents. Harry should’ve been there. It was Harry who’d supported him through school. It was Harry who’d stayed up late into the evenings helping him study, even when he had to work early the next morning. But there was no messy black hair and horrid glasses, no sparkling green eyes gazing up at him from the crowd and he’d had to fight back tears. He’d been the best man at Blaise’s wedding, but he’d gone alone. He’d sat at the bar and sulked the whole evening and even Pansy hadn’t been able to coax him out onto the dance floor. He’d held Pansy’s little girl in his arms just hours after she’d been born, his goddaughter, and he’d had no one to share that happiness with, no one to brag to as the little girl had learned to crawl and talk. When she’d smiled and called him Dayco because she couldn’t pronounce his name he’d nearly wept because he knew he was missing out on so much. But he did nothing to change it. He didn’t date. He didn’t go out to clubs. He couldn’t do those things because he still loved Harry and he couldn’t move past that. Honestly he didn’t think he ever would.
His alarm screamed at him to get up, to get ready for work. He shut it off, but made no move to get out of bed. For once he had the day off, but he didn’t want it. At least when he went to work he could lose himself in the patients and the hectic schedule. He could forget about his woes and leave everything behind for twelve hours. He couldn’t do that at home, where the silence mocked him and the empty rooms reminded him of everything he’d lost. So he fled. He dressed and took a taxi to Pansy’s house where he could spend the day with her and her little girl and pretend that everything was alright.
And for a while it was alright and he was able to lose himself in the little tasks of taking care of a child and the easy conversations with his best friend. At least until he was shooed out after dinner so Pansy could spent time with her husband. He couldn’t fault her, but it still hurt. The darkening sky seemed to laugh at him as he wondered aimlessly through the streets. He got lost quickly, but couldn’t be bothered to care. He had nowhere to be for another two days and he wondered for a moment if anyone would really notice if he were gone for longer. Perhaps he should up and leave, go traveling and not tell a soul where he was going. Maybe he could go to the states or out to Asia, get lost in a new culture. Learn a new language and leave his entire life behind. It was a nice thought, but he knew he wouldn’t do it. He’d never been the risk taker type. He’d gone to medical school because he parents wanted him to. He’d bought a flat in East London because the market was good and the neighborhood was high class. Harry had been the one to convince him to take risks, to live in the moment.
He was startled to find himself on a familiar street. Was it a coincidence? Or had his feet knowingly brought him here? He shouldn’t still remember this street so vividly. He shouldn’t feel comforted by the sprawling trees that lined the street. And he definitely shouldn’t be walking up the path towards number 12 Grimmuald Place. Yet here he was, standing before the front door and reaching up to the heavy brass knocker. The knock echoed, followed shortly by the frantic barking of Harry’s dog, Padfoot. The door was pulled open a moment later to reveal Harry pulling the shaggy black dog back by its collar.
“Sorry about him, he…” Harry trailed off when he looked up at Draco, his green eyes widened in surprise. “Draco.”
“Harry.” His voice shook on the single word and suddenly he was stepping forward, wrapping his arms around the other man. Harry returned the hug, arms tightening around Draco and pulling him close. It lasted for only a few moments, but felt like a lifetime. Draco could feel something shift in his chest, settling into place. This was where he was meant to be. This was what he’d been missing.
Harry gestured him into the house and into the first floor sitting room. It all looked startlingly familiar, all the furniture in the same places, even the same blanket was draped over the sofa. He ran his fingers over the wall were their pictures had once hung. It was the only thing that had really changed about the room. He settled onto the sofa as Harry poured them each a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the mantle. Padfoot snuck onto the couch beside him, forcing his head into Draco’s lap to pet him. The dog had hated him when Harry had first brought the shaggy pup home. The feeling had been fairly mutual, but they’d grown on each other. As Draco stroked the dog’s ears, he was taken back to when things had still been great.
“It’s been a long time.” Harry said, handing a glass to Draco and taking the chair across from him.
“I know.”
“What brings you here now?”
“I’ve got something to say, but before you say anything just please let me finish.”
Harry nodded and Draco took a deep breath, tossing back his drink for courage. “I screwed up, Harry. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I threw that away. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm here asking for it anyway. I couldn’t admit that I loved you, that I was gay. I don’t know if it’s too late, but I can admit it now. I loved you. I still do, more than I ever knew I was capable of. I miss you every day and it kills me every time I wake up alone in my horrid flat. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I want to make it up to you. I want us to be together again. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up holding you. I want home cooked dinners made together in the kitchen with your horrid liquor afterwards. I want use to have the house and kids and everything I never wanted to talk about back them. I want to walk down the street holding your hand and I want everyone to know how much I love you. I’ll tell my parents and the papers and the whole damn world, I don’t care anymore. I was stupid and foolish and a right arse, but I’ve realized that and I can be so much better. If you just give me a chance.”
“Draco, I –”
They both looked towards the hallway, as they heard keys jingling in the lock and the door slam. Padfoot perked up, but didn’t move from his spot on Draco’s lap.
“I dropped Teddy off at Andi’s and stopped by the market. They were out of –” The woman tailed off as she walked into the room, noticing Draco seated on the couch. She was pretty, beautiful Draco realized with long waves of red hair and pale skin spattered with freckles. Her dark eyes widened in surprise and perhaps, recognition? “Hello, I’m Ginny.”
She leaned forward to shake his hand and he dumbly followed her lead. He barely managed to croak out his own name. “Draco.”
She nodded knowingly, though she smiled. “I’ll get started on dinner.” She swept from the room and Draco couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes. She was beautiful and she would look good with Harry. They’d make a lovely, respectable couple.
“It’s been three years.”
“Yeah, but a girl?” Draco asked, eyes flashing to Harry. He was flushed, his own eyes not quite meeting Draco’s.
“I never hid that I was bi.”
“I know, I just…you always preferred men.”
“I did, but I couldn’t be with another man. Not after you.”
Draco could feel the tears prickling at his eyes, but he wasn’t about to cry here. At least, not in front of Harry. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“I’m sorry, Draco, but it’s been a long time. I couldn’t just sit around and hope that you’d come back.”
He nodded. He’d known that. He’d always known that Harry would move on with his life. He just never wanted to admit it, never wanted to actually see it happen. And yet here he was, witnessing Harry living the life they should have had together with someone else. Draco hadn’t realized that there was enough of his heart left to break again, but apparently there was because he could feel his chest constricting.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Ginny called, voice drifting from the other room.
“No, I – I need to – to go.” He stood, meeting vivid green eyes one last time before he forced himself to leave that sitting room for that second time.
Just like the first time, Harry didn’t say anything as the door snapped shut behind him. Draco couldn’t resist glancing back at the house one last time, but the tears were blurring his vision, warping the image until it seemed like the house was all but gone.
He walked for a long time, until the sun was beginning to peek at the horizon. And he decided that it would be a good time to leave, at least for a while. Maybe he’d come back, eventually, but he couldn’t be here anymore. He couldn’t live in the same city as Harry and the life he’d built without Draco.