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Salt in Our Wounds	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7362 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters portrayed herein. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Part XIV

Where I Stood

�Harry, I�m pregnant.�

Those fatal three words continue to ring through my head, occupying every inch of my brain, suffocating every other thought. Three little words. So simple, yet so destructive. So absolute.
I lie awake in the night, my head filled with voices. Voices telling me �She isn�t showing yet, she�s not that far along. She might still have a miscarriage�. Voices reassuring me, telling me Potter will choose me. He loves me. Not that awful twit, me!
Then there are the other voices, reminding me that the Weaslette is giving Potter what he always wanted. What I can never give him. A family, a real family.
The more I think about it, the more certain I become that he will choose her. So he told me that he loves me? I know better than anyone that love is a relative matter, it comes and goes. It can bloom one day, then alter or even disappear completely.
Potter loved Ginny once, not too long ago. And if there is anything that brings two people together, it is having a child together.
There is no way I can compete with that. There is nothing I can do to make him choose me. We love what we want, what we desire. For a brief moment, I was what Potter desired most. But now Ginny is giving him that which he has always wanted most. He will choose his family before his desire. Just like I did so long ago.
He will never deny her.
I can see it before me now. The agonising time it will take for Potter to make his decision, get over his guilt, and put me out of my misery. The time during which I will try to tell me every day that I am living in delusion, still hanging on to that last shred of hope that I might, just might mean more to him than the Weaslette does. But of course, he will choose her. He will choose her and the baby, just as it should be.

Just as it should be.

The thought hits me with such force that I become momentarily short of breath. Because with those words, it strikes me what I must do.

Making the choice will kill Potter. So I will make it for him.

Without a seconds thought, rise from the bed and drag out the old suitcase Potter loaned me from under the bed. I never bothered to pack the few things that I have in this house, because I never thought I would be leaving. All of my possessions lay scattered around the room, just waiting for their return to the master bedroom upstairs.
The thought burns behind my eyes.
Feeling a shuddering breath escape me, I begin to assemble my things into the suitcase. I will leave. I will save Potter the pain of making the decision, and I will disappear from his life.
It might just be the first and the last unselfish deed I ever do, so I might as well do it for someone who matters.
If this was any other situation I might stay and fight. Even with the threat of eternal humiliation hanging over my head, I might stay. Stay and demand that he chooses me, the one he professed to love only this morning.
Yes, it this was any other situation. But selfish or not, I can�t be the one to make a man leave his family. I can�t be the one to force Potter to abandon his son. As much as it pains me to leave, I can�t do it. If Father taught me one thing, it was that Malfoys take care of their families. They do anything to protect them.
I have lost my family. Through pride and rash decisions, I lost them. Now Potter is my family, the only one I have left to protect.
And I won�t allow him to make the same mistakes I did.

******
4 AM. I can�t sleep. In fact, I can�t even bring myself to close my eyes.
Ginny sleeps with her back towards me. It�s her angry pose. I can�t blame her, anyone would be angry if they came home after being away two months and their lover refused to sleep with them.
I told her I can�t have sex with Draco Malfoy sleeping downstairs. It�s the truth, but for completely different reasons than she thinks.

�You promised that he wouldn�t disrupt our lives! I�ve been away for two months, and now you� you won�t even touch me?!�

She�s angry and hurt. Of course she is, who wouldn�t be? But not nearly as angry and hurt as she would be if she knew the truth.
I feel as if living in a dream. Everything is surreal, warped, twisted. I�m lying in my own bed, but I feel as if I�m looking down on myself, cursing and wondering what the hell that stupid git with the funny scar is doing.
I thought I had solved my problem, made a decision. And I really believed that nothing could make me change my mind.
Now I�m no longer sure.
I can�t let Draco go. I just can�t. I have fought for him for too long, loved him for too long to just throw him away. How could I live in this horrid house without hearing the 1812 overture sounding from the living room at least once a day? Without hearing him scold me for my lack of imagination in my cooking? Without feeling him pressed against me in his sleep and feeling his soft snore against my neck.?
But how can I leave a woman carrying my child? Not just any woman, but Ginny? My Ginny. Ginny who has stayed by me through these horrible years, Ginny who has borne my nearly obsessive search for a person that she hates without once complaining.
She is giving me everything I always wanted. But lying in this bed next to her, I can�t bring myself to reach out for her. These inches that separate us are nothing compared to the distance, the void that has grown between us. And it strikes me that my greatest wish might no longer be what it once was.
I want a child. I want a family. But suddenly my imaginary family portrait looks a lot different than it did six months ago.
I love Ginny. I will always love her, in one way or the other. But she is not Draco.

******
Sunday morning. I stay in my room as long as possible, pretending to sleep.
I can�t go out there. I can�t go out there and see the Weaslette�s ecstatic smile as she clings to Potter�s arm. I can�t watch Potter�s discomfort, I can�t witness the torn expression he wears when he tries to come up with an easy way to let me down.
The hours snail by. I can hear the low rumble of voices, occasional noise of someone rummaging around in the kitchen, and the Weaslette�s clear laugh sounding through the house. And every once in a while I hear the set of soft footsteps walking back and forth outside my bedroom door. He is anxious, waiting for me to come out while at the same time dreading the moment. I wait for him to knock, wish desperately that he would knock on my door, a subtle gesture telling me that he needs me.
But the footsteps come and go, and not once does he approach the door. And I remain hidden behind it, counting seconds until Monday, when I can leave this place. When I can walk through that door and know that the worst is over.
Right now, the worst is yet to come.
The clock has struck three before I finally force myself to walk through that door. On unsteady legs I enter the kitchen, walking in on the Weaslette serving Potter a cup of tea. The appealing smell of scones that fills the room makes me want to retch.
�Malfoy!� Potter exclaims, his voice a mixture of unpleased surprise and relief. He looks as if he would like to jump up from his seat, but at the last second he restrains himself. Ginny gives him a strange look, and I can see Potter fighting to look calm.
�What have you been doing all day?� he asks, his genuine concern obvious.
�I was sleeping,� I mutter. A poor excuse. �I didn�t get much sleep last night.�
Potter looks as if he would like to respond, but the Weaslette interrupts him.
�I told you so,� she says, a teasing smile directed at Potter. She then turns to me, her face noticeably more reserved. �Harry wanted to call you out for lunch, but I told him you probably didn�t want to be disturbed.�
I swallow, fighting to keep myself from sneering viciously at the smiling redhead before me. Potter sits on needles, looking much as if he is expecting a storm to break out any minute.
�Yeah,� I answer the Weaslette with a forced stretch of my lips. �Good call.�
Without awaiting an answer, I stalk over to the cupboard and pour myself a cup of coffee from the pan. Grabbing an apple from the fruit basket, I move to exit to the living room. Potter moves as if to say something, but I hurry to cut him off, not sure if I can bear listening to his voice in that reserved, horrible tone he uses when the Weaslette is around.
�I�m going to watch some telly,� I announce, stalking into the living room without waiting for an answer. Before slumping down on the couch and turning on the TV I can hear the Weaslette sigh in irritation.
�God, he�s so rude!�

******

�Draco?�
Potter�s voice almost causes me to jump in my seat. I cast a brief glimpse at him before I turn back to the reality show I�m pretending to watch. �What do you want, Potter?�
He doesn�t answer, but moves around the couch to take a seat next to me. After a moment of silence, I find myself forced to recognise his existence.
�Where is your little wife?� I ask, hating myself for letting my bitterness show so clearly.
�Ginny�s gone to bed,� Potter answers, ignoring my �little wife� parallel by pronouncing the twit�s name unnecessarily clearly. �I hoped that we could talk.�
�What is it?� I ask in feigned ennui, staring intently at the flat screen in front of me. Potter takes a deep breath, no doubt trying to compose an even somewhat sensible sentence in his head. I hold my breath, thinking that this is it. This is the moment when he breaks the precious illusion we both hold on to so dearly.
�I want you with me when I tell her tomorrow.�
For a second I�m certain that I misheard him. When I turn to stare at him with wide eyes screaming of shock, he fidgets uncomfortably under my gaze, but keeps his gaze locked with mine. �I need you. I can�t do this alone.�
I hate him. I hate him so much. For making this even harder than it has to be, for lighting the last flame of hope by saying that he would choose me. For trying to spare my feelings by not telling me of the child.
I hate him for choosing me and for making what I have to do just that much more difficult.
Unable to let a single word pass my lips in fear of that it might be the wrong one, I turn away with a furious gaze. The remote in my hand, I shut off the TV and rise from my seat, ignoring Potter�s confused stare.
�Draco?�
Just as I am moving away from the couch, thinking that I might be able to escape this situation, I feel a clammy hand wrap around my wrist.
�Where are you going?� Potter hisses, not in anger but in distress. He grabs me by my upper arms, forcing me t look directly at him. �What is it?�
All night I have lain awake thinking of how I could possibly tell him that I�m leaving. Wondering how I would ever get the words out of my mouth without breaking down in front of him.
But now that I�m here,, staring into those vibrant green eyes that I love more than anything, I find that old habits die hard. And I�m not quite sure if that makes me relieved, or just disappointed.
�You�re not telling her anything.�
�What?� Potter asks, baffled, staring at me with wide eyes. �But� I thought--� I trails off, so befuddled that he looks almost amused. �I can�t not break up with her!� he exclaims, a slightly hysterical laugh escaping him. �She expects you to be gone tomorrow, and when you�re not she will--�
�You�re not breaking up with her.� I stare at him coldly, feeling my face turn into a hard façade of stone. The knowledge of my familiar shield gives me the courage to continue.
�I�m leaving tomorrow. She won�t know anything.�
It is a clear order, and it draws the final doubt from Potter�s expression.
�You�re� You�re leaving?� he repeats disbelievingly, looking completely horrified. �But I thought that� We said that we� Why?� he forces forth the question, and I feel my heart ice over as I see tears forming in Potter�s eyes. I force myself to swallow my regret and not show a trace of doubt in my expression as I answer.
�This is best for everyone.�

This is best for you. Stop asking stupid questions and be grateful.

Potter opens his mouth to answer, and I start to fear that his denial will break my determination.
�Harry? Are you coming?�
I turn around to see the Weaslette in the stairs, looking expectantly at Potter. For a moment I wonder how long she has stood there, but her face does not tell of any anger or surprise. I breathe out in relief: Weasley�s have never been good at hiding anything.
�I�m going to bed,� I proclaim, casting a last resolute glance towards Potter before turning around and retiring to the guest bedroom. Slamming the door shut behind me, I lean back towards it for a long while.
�He was going to choose me,� I whisper to the empty room, feeling a lonely tear make it�s way down my cheek. No one can hear me, and hearing the words out loud only makes me feel worse. But I need to voice them. Speaking them aloud makes them real. It makes what he felt for me real.

Not that it matters anymore. Tomorrow I will leave, and he will stay. He will stay and raise a family, and he will be happy. Most importantly, he won�t have time to miss me. Soon enough, his memories of me will fade into oblivion.

And even as the thought is breaking my heart, it�s all I�m asking for.
How ironic that my first unselfish deed should be this painful.

End of part XIV

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The end is drawing near. Only one chapter to go, dear people! So I hope you review and share your thoughts, be they good or bad. Next time we'll see how the story ends for our OTP ;)
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Salt in Our Wounds