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“Are you sure you want to do this, Draco?” Harry doesn’t want to. He’s been crying, green eyes bloodshot and hair a mess, fingers run through and gripping it tight in search of comfort.
Draco should have been there for him, to hold Harry and soothe his tears, to kiss his sorrows away. Better yet, Draco shouldn’t have given Harry a reason to cry, should have been better than he was, more careful with Harry’s heart.
Instead they are here, alone where they thought themselves found after the war, Harry hurt again.
No, Draco doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want Harry to leave, wants to keep him selfishly close and protect him from the world, curl around him and never let him go. But Draco is the monster here, he hurt Harry, and he can’t apologise.
“I thought you’d be gone.” Draco liked the way Potter looked in his kitchen, draped in Draco’s bathrobe, revealing an array of lovebites. Draco didn’t remember getting this … passionate, but he’s always been a possessive bastard—he couldn’t deny the sight pleased him.
“If you want your illicit lovers to leave before breakfast, you should get up early to throw them out. You are a heavy sleeper—don’t worry, the snoring is adorable—so you are stuck with me.” Potter smiled at him, easily flipped a pancake—bloody show-off—and Draco wasn’t awake enough to send him away. Besides, Potter’s cooking smelled delicious—was there any harm in letting him stay another hour?
“I don’t snore,” Draco said and Potter laughed, handed him tea and a soft kiss to his temple.
(One hour became two, then three; Potter made him help with lunch and then dinner; Draco laughed and laughed—Draco decided to keep Potter.)
“I love you, Harry.” It’s not the apology Harry deserves. It’s a cruel truth that love isn’t invincible, but what else could Draco say?
Malfoys don’t apologise; not even if they want to, not even if they should. (Father’s lessons haunt him.)
“Goodbye, Draco.” Draco watches him leave, wants to reach out but doesn’t. He hurt Harry enough.
Please, Draco wants to beg, come back to me, my love.
He doesn’t.