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Harry looks at the bread in front of him. It’s the same bread he’d left in the breadbox over a week ago. By now it’s hard and uneatable. But it’s the only food in the house so Harry pushes it into the toaster. He stares at the machine, his hand trembles next to it. His nails are bitten. He couldn’t stop himself last night. If Draco could see them he would tell Harry that it’s a disgusting habit.
The toaster pings and Harry looks back at his stale bread. Now toasted and warm. He almost burns his fingers while he drops them on his plate. He picks up his knife and looks at the butter. The fancy stuff, not the cheap butter Harry prefers. A small reminder that he’s not supposed to be here alone.
Harry leaves the butter and picks up a slice of bread. He takes a bite and forces his jaws to move. Even toasted the bread is still uneatable. He drops the slice and walks out of the kitchen. A picture of him and Draco still stands on the cupboard in the hallway. Harry looks at it. They smile and look so happy. Harry remembers when it was taken. They had just moved in together. All was right then with the world.
Harry grabs the frame and puts it down. His heart aches just to look at it. A small tear falls from his eye and he wipes it away in haste. He won’t cry. Draco isn’t worth it.
In slow motion, he walks up the stairs. He turns into the bedroom and looks at the bed. The sheets are made of silk. Normal cotton wouldn’t do for Draco. Harry pulls them off the bed and throws them in the corner. He’ll get some simple cotton bedding this afternoon. Once that don’t remind him of the emptiness of the house. The emptiness in his heart.
He should put on some decent clothes so he can go out and do some shopping. He can’t live on stale bread and fancy butter alone. And a good cup of tea would do Harry good. The normal store brand. The once he would buy before Draco.
Harry walks into the walk-in closet. It wasn’t originally in the house. No, after hearing Draco complain for over six months that he had no decent place to put his clothes, Harry had it build. Now it’s silly. Three-quarters of it is empty. All the fancy suits are gone, all the Gucci shoes taken without saying a word. Harry looks at his shirts and fancy clothes Draco bought for him over the years. His fingers slide over the expensive fabrics. Harry never like them as much as he liked his sweaters and jeans. But Draco had loved it when Harry would dress up if they would go out. So Harry had never complained.
Without thinking about it Harry pulls all the clothes Draco bought for him from the racks and pushes them all in an old duffel bag. Then he opens a drawer and pulls out his favourite jeans. It’s filled with holes and completely worn out, but it fits him better than anything else he owns. Next, he gets a sweater and pulls it over his face. An old gift from Ron, once bright orange. Harry should call Ron and see if he wants to grab a beer soon. It’s been too long since they had a night with just the two of them.
When Harry walks out of the closet he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair is a mess, standing up in all directions. His eyes are puffy and his glasses are crooked on his face. Harry smiles at himself and shakes his head. Maybe it’s for the best that Draco isn’t here anymore to yell at him for being a disaster. For the first time in years, Harry doesn’t have to pretend to care about how he leaves his house.
Harry treads down the stairs and picks his wallet and keys from the little bowl next to the front door. Draco left his key at the bottom of the bowl. Just the key. He took the fluffy key chain that used to decorate it. A gift from Harry when they just started dating. Harry doesn’t know what he should think of that. He left all the pictures, the furniture they bought together. He only took his clothes, his expensive food and the stupid key chain. Won at a fair. When they still remembered how to have fun together.
He should get a new name tag. The one next to the door still says Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy. It will be just Harry Potter from now on. That was clear when Harry had come home last night from his week-long training in Scotland. When he’d found the house empty, all Draco’s possessions gone. He didn’t even leave a note. Just disappeared from Harry’s life like the last couple of years didn’t matter at all.
The store is just a couple of blocks away and Harry takes his time to reach it. He doesn’t know what to buy. He needs food, but the thought of eating makes him feel sick. He remembers loving fruit, eating bowls filled with them. Two forks fighting for the last strawberry. Laughter in the kitchen when they would fight over the last peach in the fruit bowl.
Harry passes the fresh fruits and vegetables and makes it’s way to the freezers. Frozen pizza will do. One person meals out of the freezer. No slaving in the kitchen while Draco reads the most interesting articles from the newspaper out loud. No fancy dinner parties or three-course meals. Just some microwave crap and a stupid TV show. Those will be Harry’s evenings from now on.
He just needs to get some Coco Pops and milk. The one thing Draco didn’t change about him. His silly breakfast. Draco would fry eggs and toast bread with fancy butter. But all Harry ever needed in the morning was a bowl with Coco Pops and milk. Harry turns into the cereal aisle and stops.
Draco stands in front of the Coco Pops. He reaches for a pack and places it in his cart. He’s in joggers and a simple t-shirt. His hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. And when he looks away from his cart and spots Harry he freezes.
“I thought you hated those?” Harry says. “Aren’t they sugar monsters that will kill me before I even turn forty?”
Well, it is better than the things Harry has fantasied about all night. All the horrible things he wants to yell at Draco. Draco should be proud of him for not making a scene.
“They are your favourite,” Draco stutters. Draco never stutters. He’s always sure of himself, composed and calculated.
“I would think you didn’t care about my favourites anymore. Since you packed up all your stuff and left without saying a word.”
Draco looks away, but Harry doesn’t miss the tears that fall from Draco’s eyes.
“It was the only way I would be brave enough to do what was needed. You’re better off without me,” Draco says. Then he grabs his cart and starts to walk away. Harry looks after him. The anger boiling to the surface.
“Fuck you, Draco. I will never be better off without you,” he spits out.
Draco stops for a second, and then walks on, out of Harry’s life forever.