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Every You, Every Me	By : lordoberon Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6705 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or claim any part of it. It is solely the property of J K Rowling. I make no money in the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
I would like to apologize for this. I feel very sad to disappoint readers. But...somehow towards this section of the fic my inspiration just died and had no idea what to write anymore. So I scrambled together this ending, and I don't feel very satisfied with it, but...there's just not enough energy or time at the moment to fix it. Maybe one day I'll come back and revise.

Right now I'm writing a Snarry fic. Please check it out on ff dot net under the name The Ultimate Otaku.

Thanks for reading!

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EVERY YOU, EVERY ME

an HP fic

by lordoberon

Chapter 11

DRACO

Even though it was absolutely boring and terrifying to be a fugitive, Draco was happy whenever Harry showed up. It happened three more times before winter came, and the first two were good.

In the first visit, Harry came to visit him all by himself. Finally! Draco had wanted him all to himself for a while, especially since Blaise had gotten all that time with him. He knew he was burning with jealousy, and he hadn’t done a good job of hiding it, but oddly, Harry had been okay with that. All that kissing and more...Merlin, when Draco saw him after that, he almost just wanted to pull the Gryffindor into his arms.

But he didn’t. He held that back. Instead, he pulled up a chair and scooted it towards Harry, and then plopped back onto the couch.

They sat across from each other, staring stupidly, and then Harry blurted, “Hey so, um…what are your Christmases usually like? What do you do on winter holidays?”

Draco wiggled further down in his seat and scratched at the knee of his trousers before looking up at Harry. Those green eyes were focused on him, and Harry even looked relaxed and comfortable. He wore one of those horrible Weasley jumpers, a brilliant red. It was a little small on him, and Draco liked that.

“Well…lots. I go see Quidditch tournaments. I go on trips…Russia, China, South Africa, Japan…have you ever seen the weird stuff they do with magic over there? It’s really bizarre…lots of strange polyjuice things, and some weird muggle troubles with all their robots and other little entertaining inventions…sometimes I just go to people’s houses, if mum drags me to her parties…that gets boring fast. I usually get into trouble at those.”

Again, he’d rambled his mouth off. But he had Harry’s interest. The brunette raised his brows. “Trouble? Like what?”

He smiled. Draco smiled back.

From there, it was surprisingly easy. Draco told him about the time he had released a whole flock of griffins on his fellow playmates “by accident”, and Harry told him about the time he blew up his Aunt Marge. Draco avoided the burning questions he had about Harry’s home life, knowing it was a point of upset for Harry, and went on to ask about Parseltongue, the Chamber of Secrets, and Hogwarts secrets Harry was privy to. Finally they descended into discussing games – Quidditch, Chess, and other ones that Draco knew about but Harry didn’t.

By the time they paused for breath, it was late into the night. Draco knew that Harry had to leave soon. He didn’t want him to. He could sit here like this with Harry forever. He’d wanted this for so long.

They were sitting on the couch next to each other now, and Draco had one arm over Harry’s shoulder. It felt perfect to have him close. He had his hand in Harry’s hair and was playing with it.

“Harry,” he whispered, “I…I want to thank you for…Merlin, this sounds so stupid, but for being you, and being willing to give me a second chance. I’ve shown you my sides – the stupidity, the jealousy, the happy…a bit of sad…and you don’t seem to mind any of it.”

Harry looked at him deeply for a moment. Draco was lost in those green eyes by the time Harry responded. “Well,” he said, “I get that. I mean…there are a lot of sides to me, too. If everyone doesn’t like them, what can you do, you know? But the best of my friends, the people who are closest to me, see all the ‘Harry’s there are and tolerate them. Every me…so, it’s only fair that I give the same back, and try to know you, every you, you know?”

Draco smiled. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s keep trying…learning about each other…”

He leaned in then, and Harry accepted his kiss.

After that, things happened very fast. Once, Blaise showed up to tell Draco quickly that Dumbledore was dying…and the next thing Draco knew, his two brunettes were in his room again, having attended the old man’s funeral.

It was then that Draco witnessed Harry cry. He had heard of it, but never seen it up close…and he didn’t think Harry would ever be comfortable enough around him to do that.

They sat there silently, mournfully, and he and Blaise traded a concerned look. Harry lay back on the couch, his eyes shut, his entire being seeming shut to them. His magic trickled out from him and made things shake and shiver. He refused to say anything no matter what they said, so they’d stopped trying.

And then tears were gliding down his face. He began to shake and sob uncontrollably. Through his tears, his anger was evident. “I hate this,” he growled through his tears, “After everything, after all that guidance, he just…up and dies. After all that! He was supposed to be here longer…to live to two-hundred or something. He was supposed to see me get older, and…see me do something other than just kill stupid Voldemort. He was supposed to be around…”

He crumpled his body in, with Blaise and Draco on either side, as if he didn’t want them involved. But when Draco reached out and grabbed his hand really hard, and Blaise wrapped an arm around him, he let them.

He didn’t say anything about his friends, about if he had done this with them. But Draco didn’t care, really. Harry was hurt, and he wanted to help him all he could. He hadn’t ever cared so much about someone else. The fact that Harry was like this in front of him didn’t just mean he was hurt though…it spoke a certain level of trust.

Draco was determined to build on that trust, build and build…and he had a feeling, a suspicion, that if he tried his best, put his all into it like he hadn’t with anything before, that he could have something, finally, fantastically, with Harry Potter; something more than the friendship he’d first wanted, and more than the lusty fulfillment he’d wanted recently. Something real and meaningful…something where they could be like this, even, and it would be alright.

He had a chance at it, he knew he did, and it was more than he could have ever hoped to have.

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BLAISE

It was a very plain house, on a very plain street, number 4, Privet Drive. Blaise would never have imagined that Harry James Potter lived in such an ordinary place. Of course, the entire wizarding world had never imagined that Harry Potter was anything short of grand, therefore everything related to him must be grand too, right?

Not so. This ugly, far too neat house, with its flowers by the windowsill and the window at the top of the door, was so normal and Muggle that it made Blaise squirm. He’d only agreed to have Harry visit him and Draco at his home because of the desperation he sensed in both their letters – one, pleading for relief from his horrid family and upset friends and grieving, the other bored and antsy and angry at being kept in forced isolation for safety, until some signal came from the Order.

They were both going mad, and Blaise wasn’t, so by rights it was his job to arrange everything.

He pressed the doorbell and sighed. He had been waiting for a long time now. Loud shouting came from inside the house, and he could hear Harry now as well as the uncle, and it was making him anxious.

Finally, the door wrenched open, and Harry practically stumbled right into Blaise. His face was flushed and his hair was a tangle. It looked like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He wore the same baggy shirt and trousers style Blaise had seen beneath his robes before, as well as a pair of grimy trainers. The hero of the wizarding world looked particularly normal and particularly furious at the moment.

“I’M LEAVING NOW,” he bellowed back at his uncle, “SO YOU WON’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ME ANYMORE! MAYBE I WON”T COME BACK!”

Blaise looked past Harry as a gigantic, huffing, purple-faced man with a mustache came to the door. He jabbed a fat finger in Blaise’s face from around Harry.

“You,” he growled, “are not welcome in my house, in my yard, or on my doorstep. I demand you leave, this instant, or I’ll call the police! Bloody weirdos, invading…at least you rang the doorbell like a normal person.”

Blaise gave him a cold, icy glare, so sharp, so hard, that the man was forced to look away first. Then he grabbed Harry’s bag, and without a blink, shrunk it and stuffed it into his pocket. Screw Ministry policy. They were too busy dealing with Death Eaters anyway. And his house was Unplottable.

Grinning at the way the fat man goggled, Blaise yanked Harry closer. Very close. The uncle was now accompanied in the hall by his hideous wife (Lily had all the good genes, it seemed) and atrociously fat son. Good. They could see this, too. Blaise winked at the trio, and then pulled Harry into a hard, passionate kiss.

When he was done – mm! – he looked back at the three. The uncle was so purple he was almost black. The aunt had fallen to the side. And the cousin looked like he would have nightmares about it forever. Good. Served the idiots right.

And then Blaise wrapped Harry in a tight embrace, and took him far, far away, where he and Draco could have him to themselves, and where hopefully Harry would be happy, until they had to return back to school and deal with angry friends and crime and House rivalry and everything again.

It was more than enough. It was good – no, delicious, exciting…no, there wasn’t really any right word for it.

It was the three of them, together, for however long, happy, like they hadn’t been when apart. So, it was close to perfect.

Yes. That was it. Close to perfect.

THE END
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Every You, Every Me