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Seven days. A week of the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. He should know, he had died. This was worse. Harry had thought that he had finally found his family and now that was gone. He had always felt like he was an outsider and belonging was not something he would ever truly experience. With the Dursleys he was the boy in the shadows. Never acknowledged, never spoken to or about with love or respect, never a part of the family, just a houseguest that had wildly overstayed their welcome. At Hogwarts, he had tried to make a family for himself. The Weasleys and Hermione had been his family, but again, not completely. They were as close as Harry thought he would ever get but he still felt separate because he never quite believed that they loved him as much as they said they did. They had shown this when they were grieving for Fred. The unyielding sorrow had hit them hard and for a while they had unconsciously closed themselves off, banding together as a Weasley clan unable to let others share their heartache. In time, things would get better, but in the months that followed the war, Harry felt the distance that grief created and decided that he should let them be. Ron of course tried to tell Harry that he was being stupid and that they were still brothers in spirit if not in name. Nothing would change that he had assured him, but Harry hadn’t believed it and they had drifted apart. The days spent together got less and less frequent and it felt like Harry was always the one initiating their get togethers. So Harry had started doing things on his own. That’s when he had run into Draco. It had been a bleak day in February and Harry had wandered into a coffee shop and ordered a large tea. As he waited for his order he looked around for a table to sit at. That’s when he saw him. He would recognize that profile anywhere and the hair of course was a dead give away. He collected his tea and made his way over to the corner table. “Is this seat taken?” he asked quietly and the shocked face that peered up at him was one that Harry would not soon forget. They had talked for hours that day and Harry found that while Draco still had some of the same personality traits he had before the war, there was a maturity that can only come with life experience and he knew they both had experienced a lot in their 18 years. They found that they had a lot more in common than Harry had ever thought possible, and that, they say, was that. They started getting together for coffee, lunches, dinners, pints at different pubs, and slowly they went from being friends to being family. Now they were nothing, in one instant Harry had had everything ripped away from him again.
The first two days after the incident were an alcohol soaked blur where Harry oscillated between crying heart wrenching tears and hurling glasses at the wall in fits of despair. He would fall into troubled sleep in between these cycles and he would dream of Draco. Memories would weave together in his mind and he would watch the life they had created flow through his subconscious in a way that when he awoke again he would either be filled with grief or anger at Draco for not realizing that what they had was different, special, a forever kind of thing. One set of memories that kept replaying in his mind was of early mornings where he and Draco were laying in bed, just on the edge between sleep and wakefulness. Draco was wrapped in Harry’s arms and Harry was slowly running his fingers through his hair or rubbing his hand slowly up and down Draco’s chest as Draco nestled in closer, fitting their bodies together like puzzle pieces. Draco’s sigh of contentment would be what would wake Harry because the tears running down his cheeks and the tightness in his lungs would make it hard to breathe.
On the third day Harry went quiet and wallowed in despair. Hermione had been checking in on him after that initial floo call that Harry had made in a drunken daze. As she let herself into the room she saw him sitting in a chair looking out at the city below but she could tell he wasn’t really seeing anything. She put the food and tea she had brought by his elbow and tried to get him to acknowledge her presence but to no avail. She walked out with a quiet, “I’ll be back later Harry”. He heard her, but his mind was running through more memories now. He was trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. What had he said or done that had made Draco feel like he wasn’t worth fighting for. They had been through so much and had overcome so many obstacles. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe there was just too much drama and Draco just wanted a simpler life. Harry could understand that, even though he thrived on the pointless banter and the small rivalries that surfaced now and again, maybe Draco had grown tired of always having to defend his opinions and fight for his side of an argument, no matter how trivial it was. Harry thought about how after a fight he would walk up behind Draco wherever he stood, be it in the kitchen or their ensuite, and snake his arms around Draco’s waist and put his chin on his shoulder and whisper how much he loved his snarky attitude and his drawling voice and how much he wanted to kiss the pout off his lips. He remembered how Draco would sigh and then smile as he turned in Harry’s arms to make good on those remarks. Harry thought it meant that they had ended their argument and had moved on, but perhaps he had read that wrong and Draco just stored up the frustration until it got to be too much.
Harry knew he could be hard to live with and he had the tendency to speak without thinking, but he thought Draco understood that in spite of it all, Harry loved him and he was only winding him up because it was fun to do so. Had he been wrong? Had he gone too far, said something that pushed Draco over the edge? Was he forever fated to be without a family? His parents had been ripped away from him by a murderer. Hatred and indifference had prevented the Dursleys from even considering him apart of theirs, and the Weasleys had been shattered by grief. Now the family he thought he built with Draco was tossed aside because Harry was unworthy of love. Draco had said to him that he was undeserving of Harry’s love and attention but Harry knew that wasn’t the truth. It was Harry who didn’t deserve love, not Draco. Harry didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do. Maybe he should just give up trying. Without Draco in his life there wasn’t a point. Without Draco it was just existing and he wanted to live, now that he knew what living was really like. Before he had Draco, life had been dull and grey, yes he had purpose, but having a purpose without someone to share the journey with was not enough. Not anymore. The silence settled over him and he felt as though he was slipping underwater and did not have the energy to fight the current.
The fourth day brought resignation. He felt like he was just an echo of himself now. Gone was the Harry Potter that danced in the kitchen stirring pots on the stove while Draco chopped the veggies for the salad. Gone was the Harry that laughed and drank and bluffed his way through poker nights surrounded by friends that had embraced Draco and accepted their relationship fully. That had been one of the most precious things to Harry. How his friends had seen the good in Draco despite their history and had chosen to forgive. To show in every interaction that they not only accepted Draco, but counted him as one of their own. Their approval made Harry feel loved and at peace. Now he would have to face his friends alone and he wasn’t sure he could stand to see their pity or their grief at losing Draco too. They would surely blame him, or worse, blame Draco and tell Harry that it didn’t surprise them, as Draco was always selfish and untrustworthy. Harry knew that if he heard those words he would lose it because no matter what happened to their relationship, Harry still loved Draco and would defend him to his last breath. Draco did not deserve hatred or scorn. How many times had they walked down Diagon and heard the whispered remarks that made Harry see red. How many times had Harry seen Draco bow his head and press in closer to Harry’s side when the hate speech had been hurled at him, never defending himself, never standing up to the insults and the slurs because he felt he deserved it. Harry had of course defended him and spoken with such passion and also disbelief that after everything he had done, people still felt they had the right to spew such volatile hate. He would not stand for it and he told them so. Time and time again he fought against those self righteous idiots, until they slowly started to leave them alone. Maybe Draco hated that. Maybe he hated having someone else speak for him, save him. Draco never treated Harry as a savior, he just treated him as “Potter” and then “Harry.” He didn’t need saving, he would say when they got home, but Harry would just pull him into a hug and say, “we save each other and I will not have my boyfriend spoken to in such a manner and if you don’t like it tough!” Draco would shake his head and kiss him. Maybe if Harry had just kept quiet, Draco’s pride wouldn’t have been wounded and they could still be together. He knew he was to blame for this whole fiasco, but he just couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause and without understanding why, how was he going to fix it?
The fifth and sixth day Harry replayed that horrible evening in his head over and over trying to figure out how he had missed the signs that his world was about to implode. He had been a bit late coming home from work, and Draco had been sitting at the table in the kitchen. At first, Harry thought he was upset because he didn’t call or let Draco know he was running behind. Harry started to apologize for being late. That’s when Draco had dropped the bomb. He had grabbed Harry’s hand to stop his babbling apology and told him to sit down. As Harry looked into his eyes Draco quietly said, “I can’t do this anymore Harry, we can’t be together anymore, I’m sorry, but we just aren’t meant to be. I have to live up to my family name and while this has been fun, I have to settle down and I can’t settle down with you. It just won’t work. My father was right, this isn’t real, it isn’t love, it is just a fling. I’m sorry, but you have to leave. We can’t be together”
Harry just sat there looking blankly at Draco. He felt as though he had been hit with the killing curse again. It was like Draco’s words had shut off all sound, all thought, all breath. When he was able to take in a shuddering breath he asked in a small voice, “What are you on about Draco? We love each other. This is a real relationship, we are real.” Then his voice took on a fervent pleading tone. “I am not leaving, you can’t make me leave. We can figure this out! I know that I am not easy to live with, but I can work on that. You are my family Draco, we are a family. I want us to be. I want us to be together forever. I want to marry you. I thought you wanted that too. We can figure this out. If this is about an heir, we can adopt or look into other options. There is always a way. Don’t do this to me, to us. Please Draco!
Draco had just looked at him with a blank mask on his face, and while his eyes looked sad he was resolute. “I’m sorry Harry, but you need to go. I will pack up your things and send them wherever you want, just get Ron or Hermione to owl me. Please, I need you to do this for me. Go find someone who can give you what you want, what you deserve. It just can’t be me. I can’t be that for you. You deserve better. I have been too careless and I need to try and redeem my family name. Please, just go”
In a mindless stupor Harry got up from the table, walked to the door and opened it. He looked back at Draco and whispered, “Please, don’t do this” Draco just shook his head sadly and Harry turned and began to make his way slowly down the stairs. He walked around the corner and hailed the Knight Bus. He ask the driver to take him to the Leaky Cauldron. He didn’t know where else to go, but he knew Tom wouldn’t ask too many questions. When he arrived, Harry stumbled into the bar. He found Tom and paid for a room. He walked silently to it, went inside, locked the door and sank to his knees. He started shaking as he curled into a ball on the floor. It was a while before he moved again.
Replaying this day did nothing to answer the questions plaguing Harry’s mind. He just could not understand what had happened. He knew that giving Draco space was important, but enough was enough. He needed answers and he needed to see if there was a chance to fix this. He was not going to give up on them. It wasn’t in his nature to let things go without a fight. He would call Draco in the morning and demand that they meet to talk. He wouldn’t let the love of his life go without fully understanding why Draco felt it necessary. With that resolved, he fell asleep.
Day seven had barely begun when he heard the sound of his phone ringing. It was early still so the song blared loudly from the bedside table as there was not enough ambient noise to drown it out. Harry recognized the song immediately. It was the ringtone he had set for Draco. The song was North by the band Sleeping at Last. He had chosen that song for Draco as a reminder of what he hoped they were building together. He picked up the phone and touched the button to answer.
“Draco?” He croaked out. Then he heard the words that would start to put his heart back together,
“I’m so sorry.” came the raspy reply.
“I’m on my way” and he disapperated.