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"Harry?" Draco's voice pierced the silence as he stepped out of his office, blinking in surprise. He thought the dim hallway lighting was playing tricks on his eyes, but there Harry stood, unmitakable. Draco‘s breath hitched. He had been looking forward to heading home for the weekend, leaving the weight of work behind, but now, seeing Harry here, everything shifted.
Harry stood as if he'd been waiting for hours, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, shoulders stiff. The usual pristine suit he wore to work seemed to hang heavier on him, but his eyes - those troubled, searching eyes - were what caught Draco off guard. There was something different this time, something raw.
Draco’s heart fluttered in spite of himself. He had always admired how Harry looked in his uniform, but now, all it reminded him of were the dark, exhausting days toward the end of their relationship. They hadn’t seen each other for a month. He’d needed space. After that last blowout and Pansy’s tough-love advice, Draco had decided to distance himself to figure out what he truly wanted.
But seeing Harry here, like this… Draco’s chest tightened. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice quieter than intended.
Harry hesitated, biting his lip. "I… I shouldn't have come. This was a stupid idea." He turned to leave, his footsteps slow but resigned.
Draco raised an eyebrow, conflicted. "Okay?"
Before Draco could blink, Harry stopped, turning back. "No, you know what?" His voice shook with a mix of desperation and resolve. "Can we talk?"
Draco shook his head, tension creeping back into his frame. "I can't. I'm not ready to talk, Harry."
"Fine," Harry hissed, his frustration bubbling over. "Then don't talk. Just - just listen. Please. Let me explain."
Draco's expression hardened, but the flicker of curiosity in his eyes betrayed him. He had never been able to turn away when Harry asked for something - especially like this. But he couldn't let his guard down so easily, not after the way things had crumbled between them. He couldn‘t give in to what his heart wants.
"Fine," Draco said slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll listen. But that's it, Harry. Don't expect anything more from me, please."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard as he took a step closer, his breath uneven. He had prepared for this moment, replayed it in his head over and over, but now that he was here, facing Draco, words seemed inadequate. He had to make him understand. He needed him to understand.
"I’ve been working on myself," Harry began, his voice low but earnest. "I know I messed up - a lot. I let the job consume me. I let it take over everything, and I took you for granted. I see that now."
Draco kept his arms folded, but the hard line of his lips softened ever so slightly. He didn't interrupt, though his gaze never left Harry’s.
"I... I’ve been going to therapy," Harry admitted, the words tumbling out faster now, almost as if he feared he wouldn’t get them out otherwise. "I’ve been talking to someone about... everything. At first I just wanted to talk about us and work. But I realized… I had so much stuff from my childhood and the war that I still had to work on. And I talked about how I... how I didn’t know how to let people in. I thought pushing everyone away was easier. I thought I had to handle it all on my own."
Draco's brow furrowed slightly, his guarded posture faltering just a bit. The mention of therapy was unexpected, and something in Harry’s voice - raw and vulnerable - made Draco’s stomach twist. Draco went to therapy years ago. And he always talked about it, but Harry never seemed interested.
"But I don't want to push you away anymore, Draco," Harry continued, his eyes pleading now. "I miss you. I miss us. And I’ve been trying to fix myself because… because I want to be better for you. I know I can’t undo what happened, but I can be different. I am different."
Silence filled the hallway, thick with unspoken emotions and memories of what once was. Draco’s heart pounded in his chest, a cacophony of doubt and hope swirling within him. He wanted to believe Harry, to believe that he had changed - but how many times had he hoped for that before?
"I don’t know, Harry," Draco finally said, his voice soft but strained. "I don't know if it's that simple."
"It’s not," Harry agreed quickly. "I know it’s not. I’m not expecting you to just forgive me or… or take me back. I just needed you to know that I’m trying. I’m fighting for this, for us. Because I still love you, Draco. And I still believe in us."
Draco closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply. He wanted to give in, to reach out and pull Harry into his arms, to let everything fall away - but the scars from their last few months together still lingered, painful and fresh. But Draco knew… If he would just give in to the longing it wouldn‘t hurt so much. He relaxed his arms and sighed. When he opened his eyes again, Harry was still standing there. And Draco just… He couldn‘t stop it. He reached out his arms and pulled Harry into a warm and tight embrace.
Harry stiffened for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected Draco to fold so quickly, to let him in this way. But the moment Draco’s arms wrapped around him, warm and familiar, he melted into the embrace. The weight of everything - the separation, the doubt, the self-loathing - seemed to crumble all at once. He pressed his face into Draco’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, and for a fleeting second, it was like nothing had changed between them.
But everything had changed.
"I miss you," Harry whispered, his voice muffled against Draco’s collar. "So much."
Draco stayed still, his grip firm but cautious. He wasn’t ready to speak, not yet. It was as if the act of holding Harry again, feeling him so close, was both comforting and terrifying at the same time. This wasn’t just about love or missing someone. It was about trust - trust that had been shattered before, and Draco wasn’t sure how, or if, it could ever be fully repaired.
Slowly, Draco loosened his hold, stepping back just enough to look Harry in the eyes. He wasn’t going to fall into the trap of thinking an embrace could solve everything. He searched Harry’s face, trying to find something, anything, to assure him that this time could be different.
“I miss you too,” Draco admitted softly, but the vulnerability in his voice was tinged with hesitation. “But missing you doesn’t fix anything, Harry.”
Harry nodded, understanding but still feeling a stab of pain at Draco’s words. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but he was here, wasn’t he? He was trying.
“I know it doesn’t,” Harry said, voice quiet but steady. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll keep going to therapy. I’ll keep working on myself, and I’ll give you the space you need. I just - ” He paused, looking down as if the words were too heavy. “I just don’t want to lose you, Draco. Not again.”
Draco looked at him for a long moment, his emotions warring beneath the surface. Harry had always been good with words, but Draco needed more than words now. He needed action. And he didn’t know if he was ready to open himself up again, to the hope and the potential for heartbreak.
But part of him - his traitorous heart - wanted to believe in the possibility of a second chance.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can go through all of that again, Harry. The fighting, the distance, the pain. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”
“You won’t,” Harry promised, stepping closer again, his hand brushing against Draco’s arm, as if seeking permission to stay close. “I swear I’ll be different. I won’t put you through that again.”
Draco’s eyes searched Harry’s, his gaze softening but still holding a trace of doubt. He wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t deny the fear still gripping him.
“You say that now,” Draco murmured, shaking his head, “but what happens when the next big case comes along? Or when things get hard again? How do I know it won’t just go back to the way it was?”
Harry bit his lip, struggling to find the right answer. The truth was, he couldn’t promise that everything would be perfect. He couldn’t guarantee that life wouldn’t throw challenges their way again. But what he could promise was his commitment to being better, to doing things differently.
“I don’t have all the answers,” Harry admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m not the same person I was before. I’m working on myself, and I’m not going to let my job or anything else come between us again. I’ll prove it to you, Draco. I’ll show you that you matter more than anything.”
Draco looked away, his gaze drifting down the hallway as if searching for some kind of clarity. The quiet stretched between them, heavy with uncertainty.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Draco spoke again.
“I need time, Harry,” he said softly. “I need to think.”
Harry nodded, relief and sadness mixing in his chest. “Take all the time you need,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ll wait.”
Draco gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then took another step back, putting distance between them again. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “But for now… I think I need to go home.”
Harry’s heart sank, but he forced himself to smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay,” he said softly. “Go home. Just… just know I’m here, Draco. Whenever you need me.”
Draco hesitated for a second longer, then turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Harry stood there, watching him go, feeling both a glimmer of hope and the ache of uncertainty gnawing at him.
He had put everything on the line tonight, but now all he could do was wait.
And hope that Draco would eventually find his way back to him.
***
Draco shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his coat as he walked down the quiet London street, the cool evening air biting at his cheeks. He couldn’t wait for the spring to finally settle in so that he could retire his coat. His thoughts swirled like the wind around him, tangled and unrelenting. Harry's words still echoed in his mind, every promise, every heartfelt plea clinging to him like an unwelcome warmth. It wasn’t that Draco didn’t want to believe Harry, but the weight of everything that had happened was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.
As he turned the corner onto a quieter street, his hand instinctively reached for his phone. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who would understand the mess he was in. Before he could second-guess himself, Draco unlocked his phone and scrolled to Pansy’s name, pressing call.
It only rang once before she picked up. "What‘s up?" Her voice was sharp, familiar, like a lifeline he hadn’t known he was grasping for.
“Are you home?” Draco asked, his voice tight, strained.
“I’m at mine. What’s wrong? You sound - ” She paused, and Draco could hear her shifting around, probably already grabbing her things. “It’s him again, isn‘t it?”
Draco sighed. Of course she’d know. Pansy always knew. “Yeah. Can you come over?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
She hung up before Draco could respond, and he pocketed the phone, his steps quickening as he made his way toward his flat. The walk helped, but only a little. By the time he reached his front door, Pansy was already there, leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She raised an eyebrow as he approached, stubbing out the cigarette on the pavement with her boot.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, falling into step beside him as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Feels like I have,” Draco muttered, holding the door for her. They entered the flat, and Pansy threw her stuff on Draco‘s couch before rushing into the kitchen and putting up the kettle for two nice cups of tea.
Draco slowly paced through the room, feeling the weight of the conversation he knew they were about to have. Pansy entered the living room again to steaming cups levitating in the air behind her. As she put the cups down on the coffee table she sat down.
Pansy crossed her legs, watching him closely. "So... spill. What did Potter do this time?"
Draco leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at the floor, trying to figure out where to even begin. “He showed up at my office tonight,” he finally said, voice flat. “Out of nowhere. We haven’t spoken in a month, and then there he was. Waiting for me.”
Pansy’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew better than to jump in before he got everything out.
Draco let out a frustrated sigh, pushing off the wall to pace the room. "He said he’s been working on himself. Therapy. Realizing he pushed me away because he didn’t know how to deal with his own stuff. He’s trying, Pansy. He sounded so… sincere."
Pansy watched him silently, her fingers tapping against her knee. “And how did you feel about that?”
Draco ran a hand through his hair, his pacing picking up speed. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know how to feel. Part of me wants to believe him. Part of me wants to just... let it all go and try again. But then there’s the other part - the part that remembers how bad it got. The way he shut me out. The way I felt like I was the last thing on his list. The way I felt when he told me he cheated.”
Pansy’s expression softened, though her voice stayed steady, practical. “It’s okay to still have feelings for him, Draco. But it’s also okay to be angry. To not trust that everything will magically be fixed just because he’s finally saying the right things.”
Draco stopped pacing, turning to face her. “But what if he really has changed this time? What if he’s actually working on it? What if I let him go, and it turns out he was serious? I don’t know if I can handle that, Pans.”
Pansy stood up, walking over to him. She placed a hand on his arm, grounding him with her calm presence. “It’s not your job to fix him, Draco. He should’ve worked on himself before everything fell apart, not after. But the fact that he’s doing it now… it’s something. It’s just not everything. You can’t throw yourself back into this just because he says the right things. He has to prove it.”
Draco exhaled shakily. “He said he’d wait for me. That he’d keep working on himself, whether I’m ready or not.”
Pansy snorted. “Well, that’s new. Potter actually being patient.” She looked up at him, her eyes softening again. “But honestly, Dray, he needs to be patient. You’re not some project he gets to work on when he feels like it. You deserve better than that.”
Draco nodded, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. “I told him I needed time. That I couldn’t just… go back to the way things were.”
Pansy raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Good. That’s good. But you have to be honest with yourself too. You can’t hold on to the hope that he’ll fix everything for you. You have to decide what you want - whether he’s in the picture or not.”
Draco sat down on the couch, dropping his head into his hands. “I just don’t know what I want, Pans.”
Pansy sat beside him, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “It’s okay not to know right now. This is messy. It’s supposed to be. But take your time. Figure out what you want - not what Harry wants, not what you think you should want, but what actually makes you happy.”
Draco looked up at her, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. “You think I should give him another chance, don’t you?” Pansy gave him a long, thoughtful look. “I think you should give yourself another chance, Draco. And if that means taking Harry back, fine. But don’t do it because you’re afraid of losing him. Do it because you believe you can be happy together, for real this time.”
Draco leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. Pansy was right, as usual. It wasn’t just about Harry anymore. It was about him - about what he deserved. And right now, he wasn’t sure if Harry fit into that picture.
“I hate it when you’re right,” Draco muttered, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
Pansy smirked, leaning back beside him. “You should‘ve gotten used to it over the last decades.”
They sat there in silence for a while, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between. The only noise the gentle sipping on tea cups. Draco didn’t have all the answers, but maybe that was okay.
Maybe, for now, it was enough to just take things one step at a time.