Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Secondary Education	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 27880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: Hello again! I am trying to pick up the pace on my writing. So, two weeks instead of two months? Not bad right? I have decided to put my energy into finishing this one, since we're more than halfway through already. If you follow Unstoppable as well please know that I am going to continue working on it, I'm just not inspired at all right now and I need to figure out where I'm going with it. But I will not abandon it! I always find a way, somehow.
Fair warning, we are entering the temporarily angsty section of this fic. It doesn't last forever. There are plenty of good Drarry things to come afterward. Just so you don't get disheartened :)
Lesson 14: When To Walk Away
Draco woke abruptly, and with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes darted around the room but he didn’t move otherwise, as he was resting on his side and felt the weight of an arm around his waist.
He wasn’t alone.
He blinked and took a deep breath. He knew where he was.
So of course he wasn’t alone. He woke up next to Harry more than half his mornings these days. Harry’s bedroom was nearly as familiar as his own.
So why was his heart beating uncomfortably hard in his chest? Was it a nightmare he now couldn’t remember having? Did something startle him awake?
He lay there, still, listening. The only sounds were the ticking of Harry’s grandfather clock and the brunet’s soft, even breath behind him. He was safe. Everything was fine.
And yet there was a strange churning in his gut, a sense that something was off. But he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
He readjusted himself, turning over onto his back. Harry’s relaxed arm slid along his abdomen as he did, anchoring him to the bed. Draco grimaced as he felt a twinge of pain in his arse. It was a kind of soreness he’d never experienced before.
Which made perfect sense, considering what he had let Harry do to him for the first time the night before. What he had begged Harry to do to him.
He closed his eyes, and it was all there, in the forefront of his mind, memories hanging ripe for the plucking.
Harry’s nervous laughter as he asked if Draco was sure; Harry’s body pressed against his on the bed as fingers slowly opened him up; the fullness of Harry inside him; the slow thrusts; Harry intertwining their fingers as he stared into Draco’s eyes.
Draco coming from Harry’s cock alone, and the awe in Harry’s voice afterwards.
Amazing.
It had been amazing. It had been eye-opening. It had been wonderful. Draco had fallen asleep only moments afterward, perfectly content, sated, happy.
And now he felt strange, as if something had changed. Which was ridiculous. Because while what they had done the night before was new, it wasn’t all that different from any of the other sex they’d had in the last six months. It was pleasurable and intense, like always. It wasn’t even all that physically different from when Harry put his fingers or a toy inside Draco. Yes, Harry’s cock was bigger than those things, so the sensations had been more powerful, more overwhelming, when Harry was fucking him but… that just didn’t account for it. It didn’t give any reasonable explanation for the knot in Draco’s stomach.
Fucking was fucking, no matter who was on top, wasn’t it?
Except what they had done the night before didn’t really feel like fucking, actually. It had felt like something else, something slow and sweet that used the L-word in dangerous ways that Draco would not let himself say, even in his own head.
Handholding and lazy, tender kisses and staring into each other’s eyes… No, it hadn’t really been like fucking at all.
Harry had been so gentle with him. He knew why, and it made sense. It being Draco’s first time, of course he would take it slow, letting him feel it out, adjust. Harry was considerate like that.
But now Draco was sort of wishing he hadn’t been, if only because it had, inevitably, deepened their connection even more. A connection he was starting to crave and fear in equal measure.
Calm down, he told himself. You’re being ridiculous. Nothing had changed between this morning and the morning before, except that Draco now knew he liked bottoming. Useful information, that. Very useful.
Well, you like bottoming for Harry. But would you trust anyone else with something like that? Can you?
Draco turned his head to the right and looked at his lover, who was still resting peacefully beside him, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow rhythm, his lips slightly parted, his dark, messy hair partially obscuring his eyes.
Could he trust anyone else? Could he want anyone else?
If the answer to either question was no, then he was in serious, serious trouble.
Draco swallowed and made himself continue to watch Harry as he slept. It was hard to keep looking, because that tugging was happening in his chest again, that homesickness that was growing more and more familiar with each passing week. That homesickness that Draco was realizing wasn’t homesickness at all.
It was simply longing. He longed for Harry, even when he had him right there, beside him.
He was in serious trouble indeed.
Part of him wanted to regret the night before. Part of him wanted to blame it all on finally giving himself to Harry in that way and opening up the possibility of feeling more than friendly affection for him. But he was no fool. If this longing was familiar it could only mean that he’d been feeling it in some form for months now, probably since as early as November, if he was honest, only the feeling wasn’t so strong, wasn’t so deeply rooted in him, back then.
Before it had likely been an affection, more than friendly, but something manageable at least. And now…
He turned his head away and closed his eyes, his heart beating wildly again.
Don’t panic. He knew what it was, so there was really no point in examining it too closely. He knew.
But that didn’t matter, he told himself, taking deep, steady breaths. He didn’t need to put a name on what he felt. He just needed to figure out what he was going to do about it. He had options; he was not doomed to some particular fate. He had options.
He could tell Harry what was happening. As frightening as that thought was, Harry had always made him brave, and he could find a way. He could find a way to tell Harry that his feelings had become… romantic, that they had deepened to the point that Draco could see wanting to pursue something more, something real. He could tell Harry and see if he felt the same and-
He cut himself off with a choking breath, because really, who was he kidding? Other parts of their evening were coming back to him now, conversations he’d been privy to, had by friends who had watched Harry’s extensive dating history unfold before their eyes.
He never gets serious with anyone.
If you’re looking for monogamy, you have no business sleeping with Harry.
A bloke can’t expect him to stick around. Those that do always wind up disappointed.
How many ways had Paul found to say that any real future with Harry was impossible? Draco hadn’t even flinched at the time either, because he knew all of this already. Because Harry had as good as told him that numerous times. He wasn’t ready to settle down. He wanted to have fun and focus on his teaching.
But he’s different with you, something inside of Draco insisted, almost pleadingly. You’ve been doing this for six months, and he’s not seeing anyone else. And you spend nearly all of your free time together. This is different than what he had with all those others. You’re different. You’re… special.
He snorted aloud at that. Because hadn’t Paul and David said something about that too, about how Harry made people feel special and some of them believed it and let themselves fall for Harry? And who was Draco now, one of them? He couldn’t be one of them: pathetic, pining, avoiding Harry at all costs so their longing, their craving for him didn’t absolutely overwhelm them.
No, he could not be one of them. He could not assume that what Harry felt for him was, somehow, miraculously different than anyone who came before, not when Harry hadn’t done or said anything to tell him otherwise. He wouldn’t be able to bear the look of sadness and pity on Harry’s face when he had to let Draco down gently, tell him he was sorry, and then suggest that maybe they should end things and just be friends.
No, he could not bear that. He could not bear rejection, not so soon after Astoria. He wasn’t ready, wasn’t strong enough, to handle that feeling again. Which meant he couldn’t tell Harry.
So, Option One, out.
If he wasn’t going to tell Harry, did that mean he should just let things keep going as they had been? Things were so good between them, so easy. The sex was still incredible, and they enjoyed each other’s company in other ways too. Draco didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose what had become such an important connection in his life.
But Draco also knew what would happen if they kept going like this. His feelings would deepen further. His need, his longing, for Harry would become more intense. And then what? Was he just going to stand around, keeping a tight hold on his feelings, waiting for some sign that Harry was starting to feel the same? That could take forever, go on indefinitely, or at least until Harry got tired of him and moved onto someone else.
That would be even worse than being outright rejected now. After all that time, all that pining and hoping. It would be devastating.
And he had to remember that their monogamy was circumstantial and wouldn’t last forever. It was nearing the end of April; there were barely six weeks to go until the end of the term, and then it would be summer. And Harry’s schedule would open up considerably, and he could see other people again. He would, no doubt. He went out a few times a week, he had said, in the summer. And it wouldn’t only be with Draco. Draco would be a fool to believe otherwise, especially since the rules they had put in place (the rules Draco had insisted on) meant that they wouldn’t go out in public anyway, since it would out Draco and make him have to face his family in a way he wasn’t ready to yet.
Why would Harry put up with that, when he could have any other fit gay bloke he wanted to go dancing or picnicking with? What did Draco have to offer, compared to that freedom, that ease, that was so important to Harry? Draco could already feel the way Harry was losing patience with him in that regard, tired of being stuck in their rooms together. Harry was growing bored of it, restless. So of course he would jump at the chance to be with other people, once his schedule allowed it.
And Draco would just have to be silent and live with it, perhaps find some other lovers on his own, to fill the void.
That was no way to live a life. That was no way to be in a relationship. It wasn’t a relationship at all, not when it was so full of not saying, so devoid of actual honesty.
What a fool he was. A sad, stupid fool. All this not saying, all this avoidance of his own feelings, and look where it had gotten him. He should have acknowledged it sooner, so he could spare himself this.
All the signs had been there: the fluttering in his chest whenever Harry smiled, the constant pull towards him, the unexpected moments of jealousy over other men, and the craving Draco felt, all the time, that was only satisfied when Harry was near.
He’d been near Harry so much, he’d managed to ignore it. He’d managed to pretend it was something else.
It’s hard not to get swept up in Harry, David had said, and he was right. Draco was swept up, and it had made him blind. Or perhaps he’d simply believed he was safe from those feelings, because really, how could he even be capable of falling for someone after what Astoria had done? He’d never though he could let his walls down enough for that, not so soon, not after only a year.
But Harry was good at dismantling walls. That had been true from the beginning. So Draco probably should have seen it coming.
Idiot, he chastised himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He knew what he had to do. It was just a matter of being strong enough to do it.
He turned to look at Harry again and realized immediately it was a mistake. The pull was strong; he could feel it now. He knew already the warmth that Harry radiated in sleep, the kind that welcomed you in, wrapped you up inside it. He knew that Harry’s jaw would be just a little rough as it nuzzled at the sensitive skin of Draco’s neck, that it would make Draco shiver and arch in a silent plea for more. He knew how Harry’s hands liked to explore blindly under the covers, fingers tough with callouses but so gentle in their searching. They would always find their mark in the end, working their own kind of magic.
Gods, but it was so tempting. It would be so easy. He could roll towards Harry, burrowing closer until he awoke and gave Draco one of those devilish grins that always made Draco weak. He would kiss Draco, slowly, lazily, like they had all the time in the world. And Draco could surrender to it and just go on pretending.
It would be so easy. Which was exactly why he couldn’t let himself do it.
He knew what he had to do. And if he was going to do it, he needed to do it now, while Harry was still asleep.
As gently and quietly as he could, Draco lifted the covers and slid out from underneath Harry’s arm. Harry barely reacted, only grunting a little and clenching his hand in the vacated sheets. Draco placed both bare feet softly on the floor and stood.
It took quite a bit of effort to find all of his clothes. They’d both undressed in a passionate flurry the night before, and the various garments were scattered all over the floor, his tangled up with Harry’s. He tiptoed naked about the room, at least until he found his underwear, which Harry had managed to fling to the other side of the room and which had hid themselves partially under the large oak dresser. He scrambled to put those on, then set about detangling his button-down shirt from his jumper. It was ridiculously wrinkled but he put it on anyway, having no other choice. At least with the jumper pulled on over it again it didn’t so obviously look like he was wearing yesterday’s clothes.
Harry started stirring just as Draco was pulling on his trousers. Draco hurriedly buckled his belt and then started scouring the carpet for his one missing sock, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest. He’d wanted to be fully dressed for this. He wanted everything on before he…
His eyes searched frantically. Where was that damn sock? He had everything else, he just needed the-
“Draco?” Harry’s voice was rough with sleep. Draco froze, staring as his (soon to be ex) lover as he rolled over onto his back and gave a big stretch, accompanied by a deep and satisfied groan. Harry’s arms flopped back down on the bed again and their eyes met. “What are you doing up? I thought we both had the morning off.”
“I’ve realized I’ve gotten way behind on my marking,” Draco answered, aware that his voice sounded rushed and a bit out of breath. “There’s a whole stack of essays I’ve got to get back to my 7^thyears by tomorrow. I really should get started.”
“Oh.” Harry sat up, stretching some more. They stared at each other a moment, then Draco decided to resume looking for the sock. “I thought we’d… have some time. I’m not on duty until dinner, you know.”
“I know,” Draco replied, his eyes still scouring the floor. “I just remembered it, just now.”
“All right…”
Draco could tell that Harry was confused, but he chose not to focus on it. He bent down, checking under the bed again for good measure, and by some luck he spotted it, hiding balled up behind the base of the left bedpost. He grabbed it, shook it out, and balanced awkwardly on one leg to put it on.
Just shoes now, just his shoes, and he would be ready. He could do this.
“Well, would you like some company?” Harry was saying now, still watching him from the bed. “I could stand to do some work as well, if you’re going to anyway. We could have the elves bring us a big breakfast, sit by the fire-“
“That… sounds nice,” said Draco, bending to tie his shoes. “But I…” Merlin, how did he do this? How would he find it in him to do this? “I think it would just be distracting, honestly. I really have a lot to do.”
“Oh.” He could tell Harry was disappointed, maybe even a little hurt, but he didn’t know what he could do about that, other than press onward.
He stood, fully dressed now, ready to walk out the door when he’d said what he needed to say.
It’s now or never.
“Actually… the truth is, I…” He draped his jacket over his arm, playing with one of the sleeves while he tried to find the right words. His lips felt strange and numb, and he bit the bottom one between his teeth, hard, just to try and get some feeling back into it. “I’ve been thinking. About this. About us. And I’ve…” He glanced up at Harry to find the brunet’s brow furrowed as he watched Draco intently. “I’ve decided that… I really feel that it’s time for us to end it. The sex, I mean. The lessons.”
Harry blinked at him, looking taken aback. Not that Draco could blame him. He knew that it would seem completely out of the blue. And Harry was hardly aware of the entire crisis Draco had just gone through when he woke up that morning.
“Oh.” It sounded more like an exhale than a word, coming out of Harry’s mouth this time.
“It just seems like this… arrangement has run its course. I mean, we’ve done so much… You’ve taught me so much and… last night really just felt like the final lesson I needed, you know? So I think it’s best if we leave it here.”
Harry adjusted himself on the bed, his shoulders rolling restlessly, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Did I…” He met Draco’s eyes. “Did I do something wrong? Was last night too soon for you? Should I have-“
“No,” Draco interjected. “No. That’s not it at all. Last night was great. It was…” Amazing. Revelatory. Perfect. “It was great. I learned a lot.” He bit back a grimace, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, how entirely inadequate it was to capture the experience. But this was part of what he needed to do. He needed to distance himself from it. “But that’s just it, you know? I’ve learned a lot, but I can’t be a student forever. At some point I’ve got to go out and use what I’ve learned. And I’m ready for that. To put my education to good use, so to speak.” He tried for a wry smile, but it felt brittle on his lips.
And Harry clearly wasn’t buying it. He simply stared at Draco, his face like stone.
“And Merlin knows you have a whole slew of neglected lovers waiting for your return,” Draco went on, trying to find some way to lighten the mood, try to put even the ghost of a smile on Harry’s face. “They’ve probably been pining away for you this whole time. I’m sure you don’t want to keep them waiting any longer than you have to.”
That didn’t work either, though. Harry’s lips didn’t even twitch. His eyes dropped to his hands, which were resting in his lap, and they remained there as he remained silent.
Shit. This was coming out all wrong. Draco knew he was sounding way too cavalier. He had wanted to appear unaffected. He wanted Harry not to have to worry that Draco wouldn’t be all right without his guidance. But it just wasn’t right, was it? Not after everything they had shared with one another. He closed his eyes, mustering the courage to speak from the heart, to say what Harry most needed to hear.
“This meant a great deal to me. I hope you know that.” His voice was quiet, but it still carried. He could tell Harry was hearing him, because the brunet looked up again. “I don’t know what this year would have been like without you. I’m sure I would have survived it but… I wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much. I wouldn’t know myself so well as I do now. I’m not sure I even know how to tell you…” He swallowed, frustrated now that he was getting too emotional. His hands were shaking, and he hid them under his jacket. He made himself look at Harry. The brunet looked back, hanging on his every word, and Draco found it in him to keep going. “I meant what I said. You’re amazing. You understood what I needed before I did. You changed my life. So thank you.” He dropped his gaze again, unable to help it. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, but that’s the very reason that I need to move on. I need to move forward, to what’s next for me. I hope you can understand. I have to move on. I have to.”
Harry’s gaze finally softened, and Draco did see understanding there, though there was no happiness in it. “Of course,” he said. “You’re right. A person has to… has to move forward. And if this is what you need, to- to do that then… I respect it. Of course.”
“Thank you,” Draco said, feeling relief and disappointment warring inside him. He was relieved that Harry had replied at all, and that he seemed to understand. But his response had been so formal, and he hadn’t said anything about what it had meant to him, these past six months. Draco had laid bare how important to him this little relationship of theirs had been, and now Harry wasn’t giving him anything in return?
It was a stark reminder of how Harry had been here before, many times. He’d probably had some version of this conversation more times than he could count, with all those lovers that had come and gone over the years.
Draco wasn’t special, which of course he knew already. But still, it stung, to be reminded.
What did you expect, for him to fight for you? For him to beg you to stay?
He realized he’d been holding onto a foolish hope that maybe he had been special to Harry, after all. But he wasn’t. Of course not.
It hurt, but in some ways it made it easier. Draco was doing the right thing, he was sure now, and he’d already done the hardest part. He’d said the words aloud, and Harry had accepted them. So now all he had to do was walk away.
But instead he just stood there.
“It’s not as though this has to change much, right?” he found himself saying. “We agreed to be friends afterward, so…”
Harry nodded his head once, his hands brushing along his thighs absently. “That’s true.”
“So, I’ll see you at dinner, then?”
“Right. Dinner,” Harry replied. His voice sounded a bit flat, but he looked at Draco and gave him another nod, almost as if in reassurance. “I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah.” Draco chewed on his lip, then nodded a few times. He needed to will his feet to move. He needed to turn and go.
He closed his eyes. That was the only way. Because there was still something inside him, the part that had already let Harry burrow in deep, that was screaming at him, even now, that he didn’t have to do this, that all this could be undone.
Tell him you’ve changed your mind. Tell him you want him, all of him. Whatever he’ll give you.
He closed his eyes and turned, and then his feet were moving him.
Go back. Go back. Go back. Go back.
His eyes were open again and he could see the door.
Go back! For the love of all that is magical in this world turn around and tell him you’ve made a mistake!
“No,” he whispered, just loud enough for himself to hear. He was out of the bedroom now. He’d already done the hardest part. Just a few more steps and-
He swung the door open and was met with the dusty morning light of the Defense corridor. The door closed with a thunk behind him, and it sounded so loud, in the sleepy quietness of the castle. There was a finality in it that made dread pool heavy in his stomach.
Shit. Shit shit shit. What have I done?
He took a shaky breath.
What you had to do, he told himself. You did what you know you would always have to do, and you did it before you got in too deep, before it would be impossible to do.
That did make him feel a bit better, actually. This pain and despair was temporary, and he knew if he had waited any longer it would have only been worse. He had spared himself.
He started walking. He needed a shower, to wash away the last remnants of Harry on his skin. And then he would have a light breakfast, get some work done, and get used to the idea that school would be his focus now.
It was good thing. It was time to put his students first, to put his work first. He had been consumed by Harry, really, these past months. It had taken too much of his focus anyway, too much of his time. He would have so much more time now, and that was a gift.
And really, what had he been thinking, considering an actual relationship with Harry? Something out in the open? Something that would fall under daily scrutiny from the entire wizarding world, something that would undoubtedly out him to his parents and potentially ruin his best marriage prospects?
Because it wouldn’t last, he and Harry. Even if Harry had been willing to give it a try, they wanted different things. They were at different places in their lives. Draco had wanted to move on from Astoria, and he’d done that quite effectively. It may not be long off that he was ready to start dating women again, look for something serious, monogamous, that could turn into something real.
Harry might have been open to the idea of monogamy, but marriage? Children? Draco could only imagine how Harry would shudder and look longingly at the door, ready to run, at the mention of those things.
I’m not ready for that yet, he had said. And Draco, when he met the right person, would be ready. He would want to take the next step. How long would Draco have had to wait around for Harry to decide he was ready?
No, this was for the best. There were so many reasons that he and Harry would never work. He had done the right thing.
He looked up to realize that he was already standing in front of the door to his quarters. He’d barely noticed where he was going, so lost in thought as he was. He gave the password and went inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
He started to undress, aware that he still smelled like sex, like Harry. Flashes of the previous night inundated him a moment: the sounds they made, the taste of Harry’s mouth, the way Harry felt inside him-
Draco shed the last of his clothes in a hurry and made for the bathroom. The sooner the smell was gone, the sooner the memories wouldn’t be so visceral.
He stood under the spray and breathed in and out for a long time. There was an undeniable, familiar ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away, no matter how deeply he inhaled or how slowly he exhaled.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
It hurt. It fucking hurt. He put his hands on the wall and leaned into it, bowing his head and letting the hot water cascade down his back.
Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. Repeat.
He would survive this. He had survived much worse than this. It was just a matter of time. It was just a matter of continuing to breathe.
***
Draco followed the plan for his day, or tried to, at any rate. He finished his shower, ordered tea and toast from a house elf, and extracted a small stack of essays that still needed marking. The 7^thyear essay he’d mentioned to Harry as an excuse had been fictional, but there was always work to be done, and Draco figured he might as well take some time to do it.
He didn’t get very far. He was having a hard time focusing.
When he arrived at dinner Francesca and Harry were sitting together at the staff table, so Draco went to join them. He wasn’t exactly sure how this whole “being friends” thing was going work out, considering that just seeing Harry was going to make Draco want to jump him, but he was determined to try. They’d made an agreement. And considering that Draco was the one to break off the arrangement, it was only right that he should make an effort, since this was important to Harry.
Still, he wasn’t sure how he was going to manage it. One day at a time, he supposed.
Francesca greeted him with a smile and immediately asked about his weekend. Draco told her about it, choosing to be vague on the details, then immediately got her talking about the end of the school year and her summer plans. As Francesca expressed her excitement in getting to return to Tuscany, Draco took a covert glance at Harry, who so far hadn’t said a word. The man was staring at his plate, slicing his roast chicken up into very small pieces but not appearing to eat any of it.
Draco kept his gaze on him, willing him to look up. It was possible he was simply listening intently to Francesca, lost in her description of the rolling hills and fields of sunflowers, but Draco didn’t quite think so. Harry usually liked to make eye contact to show he was listening. He was usually more engaged with his conversation than he ever was with his food.
Look at me.
“You should come to Tuscany!” Francesca said, nudging Draco lightly with her elbow and getting his attention once more. “This summer, for a week or two, perhaps. The estate has a lovely little guest villa and you would be very comfortable. You both should come.” She looked between Harry and Draco, her features bright with the novelty of her idea.
“That’s a lovely thought,” said Draco. “I’ve never been to Italy.”
“Oh, you would love it. We can relax, eat delicious food, enjoy the countryside. We can go into Florence and see the sights too, if you like.”
“I would. Let me get a sense of my summer and see if something can be arranged.”
“Perfect,” she beamed at him. “What about you, Harry? Would you care to come along?”
Harry chewed slowly and then swallowed, finally looking up at her. “It does sound lovely,” he said. “But I think my summer is going to be quite a full one. I’ve got the renovators redoing an entire floor of my house, plus I have a lot of people to catch up with. Just not sure I could take so much time off.”
“Even just a week?” Francesca pressed. “Or a few days? At least overlap with Draco’s visit.”
“I really don’t think it’s doable,” Harry said with finality. “But I’m sure you and Draco will have a wonderful time.” He gave her a flimsy smile and returned his gaze to his plate.
Francesca sat stunned a moment, as if unsure what to say. She opened her mouth, but Harry turned his head suddenly and asked Gibbs, who was sitting next to him, about his summer plans, effectively cutting off any response Francesca might have given.
The witch turned and gave Draco a look of utter bewilderment. He looked back at her, thinking perhaps his expression seemed a bit guilty, because something solidified in her expression. He could tell she wanted to ask what the hell that was, what was going on between himself and Harry, but thankfully she knew better than to bring it up in their present company. She simply returned to her dinner silently, and Draco did the same.
***
Harry wouldn’t look at him. It was becoming a definite trend as the week wore on. It wasn’t that they never interacted. They spoke, mostly about professional obligations, but also about trivial personal things. Harry would answer if Draco asked him a question. He would greet Draco at meals if they happened to be sitting near each other. But he would never meet Draco’s eyes, not quite.
It wasn’t nearly as blatant as that first day, at dinner, when Harry barely acknowledged Draco’s presence. But it was obvious to Draco. He saw it every day. He watched for it, to see if Harry would finally manage to make eye contact. He didn’t.
So much for not making this awkward, Draco thought to himself, unable to help the pinch of hurt he felt when it became clear that Harry was putting some distance between them. They had agreed to be friends. Apparently Harry didn’t have a problem breaking, or at least severely bending, that agreement.
Draco didn’t confront him about it, though. Mostly because he didn’t know what he’d say. And perhaps because there was some part of him that was relieved. It was easier, really, to have distance. If Harry didn’t look at him then Draco didn’t have to look at Harry. If they only interacted at mealtimes or in the corridors, surrounded by others, then there was never any danger of Draco slipping up, of sharing his true feelings. It was easier this way. He wouldn’t say it was better, because a part of him missed Harry so much he thought he might scream. A part of him longed for some semblance, some shadow, of what they had before.
It wasn’t better, no. But it was easier.
To the untrained eye things between Harry and Draco might not have seemed all that different. They spoke less, sure, but it was all very friendly. Only someone who knew them as well as Francesca did, who knew their secret and had been paying attention, could notice the difference.
It took her over a week to confront Draco about it, which surprised him. He was expecting her to question him after that first strange conversation over dinner. Yet she waited, perhaps to observe them some more, to be sure that her suspicions were correct. And then, when she was sure, she made her move.
Dinner had finished fifteen minutes ago, and Draco was slated to begin his patrol. He had just turned into the Charms corridor when he felt an arm hook through his.
“Evening, Draco,” Francesca said. “Care for a walk?”
“I have patrol actually,” Draco replied, turning to look at her. He saw a firm determination in her eyes that told him he wasn’t going to get out of this so easily.
“In that case, I think I saw a couple of Hufflepuffs sneak off in the direction of the astronomy tower. Surely they’re up to something. I think we ought to go investigate.”
Rolling his eyes but realizing the inevitable, Draco agreed. He could begin his patrol in the astronomy tower and work his way down. He only hoped Francesca didn’t keep him up there too long, bending his ear about his split with Harry. It would interfere with his teacher duties and, more importantly, he simply wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.
They chatted idly as they made their way up, passing a number of students who were enjoying their time before curfew. They had to pause in their walk, in fact, to reprimand a snogging couple who thought they’d found privacy in an alcove by the astronomy tower stairs and didn’t realize they were being a bit too… noisy. Draco didn’t have the heart to give them detention, though, so he let them off with a warning, causing Francesca to accuse him of being “soft.”
Draco stiffened at that but made no comment, instead leading her up the winding stairs of the tower in silence.
Draco avoided this particular tower when he could, for obvious reasons. But luckily he had found that over the course of the year memories of the fateful night of Dumbledore’s demise had become timeworn and blurry, and no longer caused the acute pain of guilt that he used to feel so sharply. It wasn’t a hardship to stand here now, looking over the grounds as the sun began its descent below the trees. It was a lovely evening, actually, pleasantly warm and with but the lightest of breezes dancing about them as they rested their arms on the tower wall and looked at the sky.
“Harry won’t tell me a thing,” Francesca said, interrupting his thoughts, “other than that you’ve split up. But he won’t say any more about it.”
“So perhaps I should respect his obvious interest in discretion and say nothing about it as well,” Draco replied lightly, still staring out at the trees.
“Draco.”
“We haven’t split up,” Draco said, uninterested in hearing any whinging about his coyness. “It’s not like that.”
“You haven’t? But Harry said you had.”
“Were those the exact words he used?”
She thought a moment. “If you’re going to get picky about it, I believe his exact words were that you two were ‘no longer involved.’”
“Well, there you are then. That’s entirely different.”
She scoffed. “No, it isn’t.”
“It is,” Draco insisted. “’Split up’ implies that we were together, which we weren’t. We were just fucking. It wasn’t serious.”
He saw Francesca blanche out of the corner of his eye and felt a bit guilty. She wasn’t used to him being so crass.
“It was a fling, Francesca. I know you thought it was more, but it wasn’t. It was a way for Harry to get his jollies regularly with someone easily within reach and it was a way for me to get over my divorce. We were essentially using each other.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Francesca said. “Harry cares about you, I can tell.”
Draco looked at her. “I never said he didn’t care.” Honestly, why did people always assume, just because the two of them hadn’t committed to each other for life and were choosing just to sleep together temporarily, that it meant they didn’t care? It was possible to do both. “I know he cares about me. Just not in the way you think.”
“He’s not being himself at all,” she argued. “I’ve never seen him like this, Draco. He’s upset.”
“I think he is a bit angry with me,” Draco conceded. “I did end it rather abruptly, and I think he was offended, maybe.”
“Offended,” Francesca repeated incredulously. “Try heartbroken.”
Draco shook his head, though he could tell by the tone of her voice that arguing it would be pointless. “I thought he hadn’t told you anything about it.”
“He hasn’t. But I’ve known him going on six years now. He’s my friend. I know him. And he’s not himself. He avoids meals whenever he doesn’t have to be there, he’s closed off, he rarely smiles, and he keeps making excuses not to spend time with me. I think he’s been leaving the grounds a lot, actually. Most nights he doesn’t have patrol.”
“Then he’s going on dates,” said Draco, hating himself a little for the painful squeeze of jealousy he felt in his gut. “He’s sleeping with other people. That’s where he’s going, which is what he’s always done in the years since you’ve known him, isn’t it?”
Francesca was silent for a while, and Draco thought perhaps he finally had her stymied. But not so, it turned out. “Still,” she said, making Draco heave a deep sigh, “just because he’s going out and sleeping with other men now doesn’t mean he isn’t heartbroken.”
“We were never exclusive. Harry was very clear about that from the beginning. He doesn’t do monogamy.”
“So he was seeing other people while you were together?”
“Maybe,” Draco hedged. He knew Harry hadn’t been. He’d told Draco as much, come Christmas time. And after the holidays they were together so much that it was virtually impossible that Harry was dating other people. But still, they weren’t exclusive. “We didn’t talk about it.”
“Sounds like there was a lot you didn’t talk about,” Francesca replied, almost accusingly.
“I don’t really see how it’s any of your business,” Draco said, feeling defensive.
Francesca put a hand gently on his arm and said, her tone softened now, “It is because you two are my closest friends at Hogwarts, and I want to see you happy.”
“I’m perfectly happy,” Draco said curtly.
“Oh, Draco,” Francesca. “No, you’re not. You’re more miserable now than you were when you first arrived here in September.”
“That’s not true,” Draco insisted to her. “I was just good at hiding it, because I’d been coping with it for a while. But you have no idea what toll my divorce took on me, how badly it messed me up. I was an absolute mess.”
Francesca sighed. “I know it was awful, what happened,” she said. “With the… the baby, and all. But at least you… I just think what you had with Harry has to be different, given your sexuality, the fact that you actually could fall in love with him. After a marriage of convenience like what you had before… This would be worse now, wouldn’t it? More difficult?”
Shit. He had forgotten his little lie of omission from a few months ago. Francesca believed him gay. It hadn’t come up again, until now, so he had forgotten it.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” he said. “You’re assuming I did fall in love with Harry and that I never loved Astoria. Well, you have it completely the wrong way around.”
When she didn’t reply, Draco turned to look at her. “I’m bisexual, Francesca, not gay.”
“Oh.”
“I let you believe otherwise before. I’m sorry about that, that I didn’t correct you. I didn’t think it mattered.”
“No,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. “You just thought I couldn’t handle the truth. You thought I was too fragile to hear that it simply was that you weren’t attracted to me.”
“I would never a million years believe you were fragile,” said Draco. “I simply don’t enjoy hurting other people’s feelings, particularly someone who I regard and care for as I do you,” he added, his tone softer.
Francesca huffed, leaning away from him a bit. “I could have handled the truth.”
“I know that. I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Draco waited, hoping she would accept the apology. But instead she said, “I have to rethink all of this now. I had such a clear picture in my head of how things were.”
“Yes. The situation isn’t what it appeared.”
“I still think Harry loves you. And you love him.”
“No,” said Draco. “It’s simply not so.”
“Are you certain of that? I mean… before you throw it all away, are you absolutely certain?”
Draco bit back a sigh. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’m absolutely certain that it doesn’t make a bit of difference how we feel about each other, because it would never work between us. He was never the person I was supposed to end up with.”
“And why not?” Francesca challenged.
“Well, besides the fact that he wants to date around and isn’t interested in settling down, there’s the fact that he’s half-blood and, you know… male.”
Francesca’s expression hardened. “Is that you talking, or your father?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You’re still stuck on that, are you? The expectations of your parents that you’ll marry a pureblood woman? I thought you’d let go of that, after all your talk of being out from under your father’s thumb now you’re lord of the manor. You were quite giddy about it when we returned from the Christmas holidays. I suppose that was all talk, though, in the end.”
Draco turned to her, his jaw set. He was getting properly angry now. “This is not about me being under my father’s thumb. I always intended to end up with a woman. If not a pureblood, then fine. I’ll fight that battle if I have to, though I’m not particularly looking forward to it. But I’m going to choose a woman, once I’m ready. That was the plan all along.”
“But why? To avoid coming our to your parents?”
“That’s part of it…” Draco said, though that didn’t sound quite right, actually. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I don’t know. I don’t want to be someone I’m not, but… I suppose if I can avoid it, I would like to. I’m not saying I’ll absolutely deny that part of myself, to those I actually trust, like you and my other friends. But it’s different with my parents. It’s a whole new kind of battle. There’s a chance they’ll stop speaking to me altogether.”
“And that would be their loss, not yours.”
“This is all easy for you to say, you know, Francesca,” he said. “You’re straight and you’re pursuing a respectable pureblood man who your parents will no doubt approve of. You said it yourself about Longbottom, didn’t you? ‘Kind, intelligent, and a pureblood to boot?’” he quoted. “’The total package,’ I believe your exact words were.”
She turned away, staring out at the darkening landscape below them. He had her there, and they both knew it, though he found he was taking very little satisfaction from it, actually.
“Yes, all right,” she said quietly, after a time. “I cannot deny that Neville’s blood status is convenient. It was never a deal-breaker; I would fancy him regardless. But knowing that it would be easier, that my mother especially would be more accepting…” She trailed off.
“Your father doesn’t care as much?” Draco asked.
“He’s always respected my choices, though he does so quietly, so as not to cause conflict with my mother. But I don’t think he would care who I married, if it were just down to him.”
Draco nodded. That sounded much like his own mother and father, only with the roles reversed.
“I was contracted to be married,” Francesca said, surprising him. “When I was nineteen. It was to a Beauxbatons graduate a few years older than I. I barely knew him, and when I met him I wasn’t taken with him at all. I don’t think he was particularly drawn to me either. It was all extremely awkward. We’d go on these chaperoned dates, long walks about the countryside, mostly. And afternoon tea with our parents and his sisters…”
Draco smiled knowingly. He was familiar with the strict and formal rules when it came to the courting of one’s betrothed. It was odd that there was courting at all, he always thought, considering that the wedding plans were already being made. It was just a show, really, in the end, a way to make it seem as though the betrothed were choosing each other when they in fact had no choice in the matter at all.
“I couldn’t bear it,” Francesca went on. “I refused to go through with it.” She paused, lost in thought for a moment.
“You made the choice?” Draco asked, gently prodding her to continue.
She turned to him with a slow and elegant twist of her neck. “I did what Rafael wasn’t brave enough to do. He would have married me, to please our parents. But I decided that their approval wasn’t worth it. And there was so much else I wanted to do before I married. I wanted to travel. I wanted to finish my mastery. And then I discovered that I wanted to teach. I know I wouldn’t have gotten to do all that I wanted to do if I had married him. I wouldn’t be who I am if I had married him.”
“You wanted to be free.”
“Yes. That was the most important thing to me. It still is, actually. It’s just that freedom means something a bit different to me now. I want to find a partner, but I still want the freedom to find the right person for me, someone I could really love and who is suited to me. My father understands, though I can tell he’s getting impatient. And my mother never ceases to mention it when I’m home. I’m already twenty-eight, you know. Practically a pureblood spinster in the making.” She said it bitterly, like she was quoting something she had heard many times.
“Twenty-eight isn’t very old at all,” said Draco.
“I know,” she replied. “I’ve plenty of time. And it’s only in the past year that I’ve even felt ready to think about marriage and family. But they’ve always seen it differently and have felt no reason not to tell me so. I try not to let it get to me, I really do...”
“But sometimes you can’t help it,” Draco finished for her.
“Yes,” she agreed, giving him a small smile. “Those things do affect you, in the end, even when you try not to let them. So I suppose a part of me has always thought how nice and convenient it would be to bring home a pureblood, someone really wonderful that my parents would embrace easily. I’m not proud of it; I know it’s wrong. I like to believe that if the person I found was a Muggleborn or something that I would fight tooth and nail for him anyway. If he was the one for me, then it would be worth it.”
“But you can see where I’m coming from, can’t you?” said Draco. “You know better than anyone else here the kind of pressure I’m under, even now. So if I decide that I want to find a female partner, in the end, to avoid all that hardship, is that really so bad? In the same way you’ve sought out purebloods, in the hopes of getting back in your mother’s good graces. Is that really so wrong?”
“No, it’s not… wrong, Draco, but it does limit you. It’s stopping you from having something really great with Harry, isn’t it, that line of thinking?”
“There’s so much more to it than that.”
“It’s only that I would love to see you live your life on your own terms, rather than your parents’. You’re in the position to do that now and I… I want that for you.”
“It can’t be Harry Potter,” Draco said emphatically, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from her. He stared at his hands a moment, considering what he wanted to say. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to think about what I really want, and if being out as bisexual is an important part of that. But I have to decide that for myself, not because someone else needs me to come out in order to be with them. And to be with Harry Potter in any real way means not only being out but being constantly in the spotlight. He’s still in the papers regularly, and if it were me he was out with, the press would be rabid with it. I’d never get a moment’s peace. We’d be a spectacle. And I can’t do that. I can’t put up with that when I can’t even trust that it would last, that he could really even be happy committing to me. Because I don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t want either.” He sighed. “In the end we’re just too… different, I think.”
“But what if he does want to commit, and you just don’t realize it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Draco. “It’s not what I want. I don’t want any of that. I want something different. I just have to figure out exactly what.”
They were silent a little while longer, at least until Draco realized that the sun had fully set and he really did need to get back on patrol now. He’d let the conversation go on for far too long. He was about to say as much to Francesca when she broke the silence.
“Only you can know what it is you really want, in the end. I just hope you’re choosing not to be with Harry because it really is that you don’t want him, and not just because you’re afraid.”
Draco nodded. “I am. I know what I want. It isn’t him.” At this point, he didn’t even know if it was a lie or not.
“All right, then,” she said. “I’ll say no more about it.”
He gave her a small smile, mostly just relieved that she was dropping it. He offered her his elbow. “Shall I walk you to your quarters? I’d love to hear how you’re getting on with Longbottom these days.”
She huffed a small laugh and hooked her arm through his. “Yes,” she said softly. “All right.”
***
The final month of the term was the busiest Draco had seen yet, though he was hardly surprised. All of his students were stressed and fatigued trying to revise for their exams, with the 5^thand 7^thyears feeling the worst of it as OWLs and NEWTs were now on the horizon. Draco found himself swamped with work as well, as he still had regular marking to do, plus final exams to write and a few research theses to read and notate from the 7^thyears who were planning on pursuing Potions masteries the next year. A number of those 7^thyears had applied to apprentice under him specifically as well, and so Draco also had to review those applications and choose one or two students to take on for next year. And for those he would reject he also felt obligated to write recommendation letters, so that they could find apprenticeships elsewhere, with other Potions masters.
Draco was seeing that at this time of year it was not uncommon for the teachers to take most of their meals in their quarters in order to maximize their work time, only attending meals when they were on duty and therefore obligated to do so. Draco followed this same practice in those final weeks, as he really did need that extra time. And it had the added benefit of making it very easy to avoid Harry.
He had well embraced it by this point; the two of them would not be friends anytime soon. Draco hardly ever saw Harry anymore, as their meal duties rarely overlapped and Draco spent nearly all of the rest of his time in his classroom or in his rooms. And, if Francesca was to be believed, Harry was still leaving the grounds regularly on his nights off.
It was hard to swallow the bitterness in his mouth when she shared that. It was hard for him not to comment on what a quick turn-around that was, and how Harry was clearly the type not to waste any time, and how did he even have the time or energy for such activities in the first place, what with all the teachers were carrying on their shoulders at the moment. But he didn’t say any of that, mostly because he knew he had no leg to stand on. He had told Harry to go back to his other lovers. He had been the one to end it, to drive him away. And he could hardly blame Harry for wanting to do something fun, something that would help alleviate the stress a bit.
He couldn’t blame him, not really. Yet somehow he managed to. Because here Draco was, alone and overworked, knowing he had done this to himself. He’d love to find some stress relief, and Harry would be the perfect person to relieve it, in fact. Except for the part where if Draco allowed himself to be with Harry again, he was only dooming himself to disappointment and heartbreak. And he was hardly going to do that, now was he?
He didn’t let himself think of it most of the time. The fullness of his days and his massive workload were actually blessings in that regard. It was easy to be consumed with other things. He only really thought of Harry just as he was turning in for the night. He had gotten used to sleeping next to someone again, and it was an adjustment to go to bed alone. But he’d been here before; he knew what it was like to miss someone the same way you would miss a limb, like you can’t fully function without them, like you aren’t fully yourself. He had felt that before and he knew it would pass.
He’d just spread out in bed, taking up as much space as he could, and think of other things: his task list for the next day, his summer plans, what he was going to get his godson for his third birthday. And if none of that worked, he would have a wank, thinking of anyone but a certain green-eyed brunet, and finally drift off to sleep.
It was not a perfect life at the moment, but it wasn’t terrible, and it wasn’t forever. When the summer came, Draco would find a way to move on properly, whatever it took.
***
When the end of the school year finally arrived, it was actually a bit of a shock. Draco awoke on that final morning and immediately began running through all he had to do that in his head, as had become his routine these past weeks. And then he realized he didn’t have to do much of anything at all. He was almost entirely packed, having put away most of his clothes the night before. There were a few things left in his classroom and there was an inventory of his store cupboard that needed to be done, but other than that…
He was finished. The school year was over.
Of course, as he had explained (somewhat hyperbolically) to Pansy many months ago, the work of a teacher never ended. He had exams to mark and a store pantry to replenish and next year to prepare for. But even with all that he was still looking at an open, relatively carefree summer.
What was he going to do with himself?
He would cross that bridge when he came to it, he decided. For now he would focus on the last few things on his Hogwarts To Do list. He decided to start on his inventory for the store pantry. That he actually found rather relaxing.
He was glad he did, for it meant he was in his classroom when a few of his favorite students stopped by for a final goodbye. He wished them well, especially those that were freshly graduated, and told them to enjoy their summers. They said the same and thanked him for a great year. Draco returned to his task, grinning widely and feeling truly pleased for the first time since he’d broken things off with Harry.
Teaching was still his calling, he was sure, no matter what happened between him and Harry. Even if things had changed permanently between them, he would not let go of Hogwarts. He was sure of that now.
“Professor?”
More visitors? He hadn’t heard anyone come in.
“I’m here!” he called, turning and looking out of the pantry door into his classroom. Raisie McNeal was standing by his desk, a small stack of parchment clutched against her chest. “Miss McNeal,” he greeted her. “Come to say farewell?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m glad I found you. I wanted to leave you with a copy of the research I’ve done, for the next stages of the experiment. It’s what I’ll be focusing on over the summer, so that when we return next year I’ll be ready to start brewing again. I’d love to know your thoughts.”
Draco chuckled, reaching for the stack. McNeal handed it over. “Well, not that I can admonish you for working so hard,” he said, “but you do know the summer is for relaxing and having a bit of fun, don’t you?”
“This is fun,” she said, making Draco laugh again. “And I won’t be working the whole time. Cole’s family has tickets to the World Cup in Egypt this summer, and I’m going to go with them.”
“Lucky you,” said Draco. “Those tickets are hard to come by, so I hear.”
“That’s what Cole keeps telling me,” she replied with an affectionate eye roll. “I’m not that… you know, bothered… about Quidditch. But I like to make an effort for Cole, plus there will be witches and wizards from all over the world there, and that will be quite interesting, won’t it?”
“Quite. You know, I attended the World Cup when it was here in Britain. It’s something else, even for a Quidditch match.” That had been twelve years ago, now. It was hard to believe. “It helped we were in the Minister’s box. Best view in the house.”
“Oh, those tickets must have been quite coveted,” she said.
“My father was well-connected,” Draco replied drily.
McNeal nodded knowingly, and it dawned on Draco that she likely had no idea who his father was. Hogwarts students learned about the war, certainly, and Voldemort, and how the famous Harry Potter had saved the world. But so many of the details were being lost with the new generation. He couldn’t help but think that might be a good thing.
“Well anyway,” McNeal said. “I have to be off to finish packing. But I hope you’ll take a look at what I’ve written up and see what you think. We can owl over the summer, can’t we?”
“Most certainly,” said Draco. “It’s very common with my NEWT students who are doing research.”
“Good,” McNeal said, looking genuinely pleased. “I think I’m going to have a lot of questions. And I’m going to need something to entertain me while Cole and his brothers sit around talking about Quidditch.”
Draco laughed. “Yes, indeed.”
“Do you go home today as well, or do you stay on awhile?”
“I’ll likely leave today. I’ve just been finishing up the last of my packing. But I can just Apparate out of Hogsmeade, so I’m not on a particular timetable.”
“Sure, of course,” McNeal said, looking about the room with a kind of wistfulness. Draco wondered if she was thinking she would miss it these few months while she was gone.
“The summer will absolutely fly by, you know,” he said. “It always does. So enjoy it while it lasts.”
Her smile was small. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be properly happy away from Hogwarts,” she said, and the words actually made Draco’s throat feel a little tight. Perhaps because he knew exactly what she meant. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I graduate.”
“Well, there’s always your Potions mastery afterward, if you decide to pursue it.”
“Yes, but I’d have to apprentice under you to be able come to Hogwarts for it, and everyone my year will want to. And Helen Reid told me you only accept one student per year, maybe two.”
Draco fought a disbelieving smile. “She’s right. But I quite like your chances. Don’t you?”
McNeal stared at her shoes, and Draco could tell she was pleased. “I suppose,” she murmured, after a minute. She looked up again, having managed her expression, somewhat. “I guess I should be going. The train’s leaving in a few hours.”
“I suppose so. I have to finish my inventory. And pack up my classroom.”
“Oh, I meant to ask,” McNeal said, as if she had just remembered something. “Whatever happened to that paper dragon of yours? It’s been missing recently, hasn’t it? I hope you haven’t gotten rid of it.”
Draco looked at her a moment, wondering what made her think of that. “No, I didn’t get rid of it,” he said. “It’s somewhere safe.” He’d put it in his desk drawer, actually. It was too much to look at it every day. It made him think constantly of Harry, and there was something rather depressing about its complete lack of movement these past weeks. There was a chance, in fact, that it would never move again, never deliver another message from Harry. And Draco didn’t want to have to think about that, if he could help it.
“Oh good,” McNeal said. “I missed it, though. I stared at it a lot, when I was trying to think through a problem. It’s strange, but I felt like it helped me. I hope you have it out next year as well.”
“Perhaps I will,” said Draco. “We’ll see.” And then he added, for reasons beyond his own understanding, “The charm has worn off, I think. I’m not sure it will ever move again.”
She looked at him with narrowed, thoughtful eyes. “That’s a shame.”
“Yes,” said Draco.
“You never know, though. It could move again, if you give it some time.” It was as though she felt a need to reassure him, which struck Draco as odd. Of course, he supposed he did sound rather sad, didn’t he?
“Perhaps,” he replied. “You never know.”
When she had finally gone, after a few more heartfelt goodbyes and thank-yous, Draco went around to the other side of his desk. He stared at the top left-side drawer a moment before reaching for the handle and tugging.
The dragon in question came into view, sitting still, lifeless, inside the drawer. He stared down at it, half of him wanting to close the drawer and never look at it again. Yet the other half of him wanted to pull it out and examine it, remember the effort that must have gone into creating it.
That effort proved that he had meant something to Harry, even though Harry himself hadn’t said as much aloud. It had to. It had to mean that they had something, a connection that neither shared with any other. Whether that connection was romantic was another matter, but Draco wondered if that was really all that important.
Harry had become one of his closest confidants that year. They’d shared both joy and sorrow; they’d confessed closely held secrets, revealed insecurities both trivial and deeply rooted. That wasn’t nothing; you didn’t find that with just anyone. So how could he be content to throw it away now?
He missed Harry desperately, and only one part of it was physical. He missed, more than the sex, more than touch, the way he could always seek Harry out in a room and exchange a knowing glance. He missed the way he only had to obliquely mention something his father had said in a letter for Harry to understand exactly what he was feeling. He missed Harry’s distinctive chuckle whenever he heard Draco utter something sarcastic under his breath.
Was it possible for someone to become your best friend without you realizing it?
He didn’t know what to do, as a friendship with Harry was not solely in his control. But Draco decided in that moment, staring down at the dragon in the drawer, that the least he could do was make an effort from his end. He didn’t want to shy away from it anymore. He needed Harry in his life, one way or another.
And so he went to find Harry, hoping it wasn’t too late.
The Gryffindor wasn’t in his quarters. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t answering the door. Draco had a momentary panic before he decided he ought to check the Defense classroom, just in case.
His choice was a sound one. There Harry was, packing and stowing away the various instruments scattered about his classroom. Some were small enough to fit inside the trunk that stood open by his desk, while others were taller than Harry himself, and simply had to be draped and locked away in the massive cabinet on the far side of the room.
“Surely you don’t take all of that home with you over the summer,” Draco said, eyeing the trunk.
Harry turned to him with a look of surprise, and then gave Draco a small smile and a nod in greeting.
“Not at all,” he replied. “It would be quite a pain to lug these back and forth from Hogwarts. I just have to lock them up, to be on the safe side, until my return.”
“Of course,’ Draco replied easily, coming further into the room now it was clear that Harry was neither going to hex him nor tell him off. “I imagine some are quite fragile, easily disrupted.”
“It’s a bit silly, really,” said Harry, “because I hardly ever use them. Just keep them around for nostalgia’s sake, I suppose. Some are from my time in the Aurors, but I inherited a lot from Mad-Eye Moody, believe it or not. I don’t know what made him want to bequeath most of his Dark Detectors to me, but he did.”
“Perhaps he saw your future better than you could: talented Auror turned even more talented professor.”
Harry returned his gaze to his packing, but not before Draco caught a small tint of pink on his cheeks. “It certainly gives off the air of eccentric professor, I think,” he said finally, lifting the lid of his trunk off the floor so he could close and lock it. “Given all those strange instruments Dumbledore used to have in his office. Of course, he used his to solve all sorts of problems. Whereas I just use mine to give off the illusion that I know what I’m talking about.”
Draco found himself smiling. Harry often resorted to self-deprecation when he was uncomfortable, which wasn’t even all that often anymore. It reminded Draco of just how much time he had spent with Harry these past months, that he would be aware of that little habit.
“Isn’t that rule number one of teaching, to always give off the illusion that you know what you’re talking about, even when you have no clue?”
Harry huffed a small laugh. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
They were silent for a little while as Harry walked about his classroom, finishing his packing, long enough for Draco to consider how surprisingly friendly and easy this conversation was, and to wonder when it would turn awkward.
“When do you head out?” he asked Harry.
“Today or tomorrow,” Harry said. “I’m not in a hurry. You?”
“In a few hours, probably. I’m nearly packed, and my classroom’s done. Not much else, really.”
“Sure. You’re Apparating?”
“That’s right. Don’t see much point in taking the train.”
“I’ve done it a couple of times,” Harry said with a smirk. “It’s… an experience.”
Draco hummed, believing he understood. “Remind you of our school days?”
“No, actually. Those train rides were enjoyable, all in all, back then. Exciting. Now as a teacher, they’re just… loud.”
The blond laughed. “You’re getting old, Potter,” he said.
“You’re telling me.”
They were quiet again. Harry was running out of things to put away, and then what would they do? Actually look at each other, talk face to face? Draco wasn’t sure he could handle it. It was much more comfortable when Harry had something to do with his hands, somewhere to look that wasn’t at Draco.
And yet he’d come here for a reason, hadn’t he? He found his courage nearly failing him and straightened up.
“I suppose I just wanted to say goodbye before I go,” Draco said. “It… seemed wrong to just go without saying goodbye.”
He changed the atmosphere in the room then, just with that one sentence. Harry still wasn’t looking at him, but the set of his body was entirely different now, no longer relaxed.
“I’m glad you did,” the brunet said finally. “We haven’t spent much time together lately.”
“No,” Draco said, feeling that was an understatement. They’d been actively avoiding each other, and they both knew it. “And I miss that, you know. I miss…” You. “Our friendship. It’s been hard, not having you around, if I’m honest.” When Harry didn’t say anything, he plowed on. “I know part of it is my fault. I know I ended the arrangement abruptly and it made things weird between us. And I know it can’t suddenly become not weird overnight, but…” Merlin, he was rambling like a fool. He wanted Harry to turn around, to say something that would spare him more of this. But he didn’t. “Can we…” He cleared his throat. “Can we have that again? A friendship, I mean. A proper one. Maybe not right now, but after the summer? After we’ve had some… space?”
Harry turned slowly, looking into Draco’s eyes for the first time in a very long time. It was daunting and beautiful all at once, and Draco tried not to squirm. “I’d like that,” he said finally, softly. “After the summer. Once we’ve had some space.”
“Good,” said Draco. He wanted to say something else, about how important Harry was to him. But it would probably just sound like an echo of what he had said before, the morning he had ended it. Either that, or Draco would be in danger of letting his mouth run away with him, sharing all sorts of things that he would be mortified if he let slip. “It would mean a lot to me,” he managed, thinking that struck the right notes. “I can’t help but feel I’ve rather… bollocksed it all up. Our friendship I mean. And for that I’m very sorry.” Good. This was good. Keep it about the friendship. That would steer him right.
“You didn’t,” Harry said, surprising him. “I haven’t handled… well…” He didn’t seem to know where he was going with that, because he didn’t finish the thought. “It will be all right,” he said instead. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yes,” Draco agreed. “Somehow.”
Harry nodded, and they were silent again.
“I should go,” Draco said.
“All right.”
“So. Goodbye. For now.”
“Bye. For now.”
Draco was having that problem moving his feet again, although in this case it wasn’t lack of movement, but rather direction, that was the problem. Because while he should have turned and walked out the door, he found himself stepping forward instead, towards the brunet.
Harry’s face registered surprise, but he didn't back away as Draco approached and embraced him. He tensed a moment, Draco noticed, before relaxing. But that was all right, because he was clutching tightly to Draco now and Draco was clutching him back with the same hard grip, and it felt… right. It felt like home.
Harry nuzzled into Draco’s neck and breathed in deeply. Draco’s body betrayed him with an involuntary shudder of pleasure, and he squeezed even more tightly once before letting go, knowing where this could go if both men allowed it to.
And he couldn’t allow it. He just couldn’t. There was no way to un-fall off a cliff, and he was already teetering close to the edge as it was.
He pulled away, placing a hand on the side of Harry’s face because he simply couldn’t help himself. His thumb brushed the soft skin at the curve of Harry’s cheek, and for a moment…
For a moment he thought he could give in, everything else be damned. But it only lasted a moment. He soon returned to himself.
“Have a good summer,” he said, which he knew was a feeble and useless thing to say. But he had to say something.
Harry simply nodded, lips slightly parted and eyes wide as if in shock. It was possible he hadn’t even registered what Draco had said, which was all to the better, really.
Draco nodded too and forced himself to leave behind Harry’s body altogether by taking a step back and dropping his hand.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and turned, finally, mercifully, while his hands tingled and his chest vibrated with want.
“Goodbye, Draco,” said Harry, the moment before Draco closed the door behind him.
And then the door was closed, and that was that.
goddess-of_dragons: Thanks! I’m trying not to be away for too long now, as you can see, since I miss you too and all of your kind words! It means a lot that you are rereading my other work and (hopefully!) still getting enjoyment out of it. I will return to Unstoppable once I get this fic out of my system and find some way to get unblocked!
I’m glad you liked that little glimpse into the Muggle side of Harry’s life. I thought it would be useful for us to see that, plus it plants the seeds of doubt in Draco’s head for this chapter. As you can see Draco isn’t falling for Harry, he’s already fallen. But it’s just now that he’s realizing it. I do hope you aren’t too upset about where I’m taking this and that you’ll trust me to do right by our boys in the end :)
myliewilde: Thank you so much! I hope I can keep it up and that you keep enjoying it, even when it gets angsty.
Jan: Thank you! As you can see, Draco is at least realizing some of his feelings. Too bad he’s running away and not doing what we want him to do! He’ll figure it out eventually, and so will Harry.
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A Secondary Education