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Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
A few more questions answered at the end of this one. Thanks
for the comments on the last chapter; I hoped that would come out well.

Chapter 22- Hollowed

�� Harry knew
they were moving, but he couldn�t tell where they were going, and that was just
fine with him. Even though he knew he lay in Draco�s arms with his head propped
on his shoulder, his mind was alive with memories of the past, thoughts he�d
tried to push away for too long.

�� Ron had had
an argument with Hermione the day they died, and then made up with her. Harry
had heard the argument- something stupid about how much research was
appropriate before they started on the Horcrux quest- but not the making up. He
knew Ron had appeared a few minutes before he decided to walk outside, face
flushed and eyes shining, and said only, �Hermione,� when Harry asked what he
was so happy about.

�� Maybe, if
they�d both lived, Ron and Hermione would have divorced in a few years, or been
violently unhappy with each other. Harry didn�t think so, though all he had to
go on was that glimpse of Ron�s face. It had been the face of a man, not a boy,
in love.

�� Hermione
had spent the day before they died working out probable locations for Helga
Hufflepuff�s cup. She had concentrated so fiercely on her books, borrowed from
the Hogwarts library, that she hadn�t heard Molly call her for dinner several
times. Then she�d started up, and looked irritated at having to eat and talk
and set the book aside. But her eyes had widened when Fleur casually described
a practice among French wizards that made Molly mutter something about
�indecency,� and soon she�d been firing questions at Fleur so fast that Arthur
had to intervene so Fleur could get something to eat.

�� She�d been
bossy, and certain the answers were in books even when they weren�t, and
perhaps more book-smart than intelligent about the world. But she had been a
good friend, and Harry missed her like an amputated arm.

�� Ginny.

�� She was the
one he went out of his way to avoid thinking about, because she had died
younger than all of them, with more of her life ahead of her to be lived. And
maybe because he�d- loved her? Felt something for her? He hadn�t known what to
call it when she was still alive, the conflicting facts that he�d broken up
with her and that his breath still caught in his throat when she smiled at him,
and he hadn�t tried to define it in the years since. What was there to define?
She was dead and more than buried.

�� She should
have lived. Harry didn�t know if she should have lived with him, and he doubted
it mattered. She should have been alive, and become a professional Seeker or an
Auror or something else that would have appropriately scandalized her mother,
and had children.

�� Oh, God,
all of them should have lived, all of them, and that they had only headstones
and not proper graves- because no one could truly sort out set of pounded,
burned remains from another- was an indignity and a disgrace not to be borne.

�� He was still
crying when Draco laid him down in the middle of something large and soft,
which felt like a bed, but when Harry tried to open his eyes to see, they stung
and burned with tears, and he had to close them.

�� Draco lay
down, behind and beside him, and pulled him close into his arms.

�� And Harry
caught his breath and then went on sobbing. He wondered wearily when it would
end. He wanted it to end. He didn�t want to spend so much of his time in
sorrow, in mourning.

�� Because he
knew that, when the mourning ended, he would have to find something else to do
with his life, accept the grief and heal and go on.

�� And he
wasn�t looking forward to that right now.

*

�� Draco
didn�t know when the sobs stopped and Harry eased into sleep. He had
half-hypnotized himself into a mantra of his own, murmuring the same soothing
words over and over, stroking Harry�s hair and losing himself in the endless
piled fragrance of his body. And then he realized Harry had stopped shaking and
was still. He eased back and stared into his face, tear-streaked but relaxed.

�� Silently,
Draco summoned Hoppy, and requested a clean rag to wash Harry�s face. He wiped
off the tear-tracks, but spent some moments tracing the trails where they�d
been with a finger, and then another few minutes tracing the lightning bolt
scar. He didn�t think he�d have been allowed to touch it so extensively while
Harry was awake. Harry seemed aware of it most of the time, shaking his fringe
out to conceal it, cocking his head away from Draco even when the rest of his
body sat close.

�� It wasn�t
the scar that had enchanted Draco into his obsession. And though it had begun
with a photograph and the desire to fuck Harry, before he knew anything else
about him, it hadn�t stayed there. Draco had spent two years insisting to his
mother and his bemused friends that his longing for Harry went deeper than
that, that it wasn�t just sexual. When Blaise asked him why Draco couldn�t just
pay someone else to Polyjuice into Harry- he was certainly capable of obtaining
a strand of Harry�s hair- and satisfy his desires that way, Draco had shaken
his head and said that wouldn�t give him what he wanted. And that was true,
even if it was hard to put words to what he really wanted.

�� He�d said
that, and said that, and said that.

�� It was just
a bit of a shock to find out that he�d been right.

*

�� Harry
opened his eyes slowly. He knew it was the next morning from the sun slanting
through the windows. Once again, his stomach was hollow with hunger, and warm
arms and legs draped and clasped him, just as they had the first night that he
spent in Draco�s bed.

�� Other parts
of him were hollow, too.

�� Harry
opened and closed his eyes several times, experimentally. They felt dry and
dusty, still, but the long sleep had done him good. He didn�t feel nearly as
horrible as he would have had he stayed awake when the shedding of tears was
done.

�� What he
felt was hollow.

�� The tears
had broken. A storm that had been building up inside him for years had finally
passed. He could look out at the rest of the wizarding world with wonder and
curiosity again, the way he had when he�d first come to it at eleven. The
burden, the block, that not even defeating Voldemort had removed for him was
finally gone.

�� And it
scared the shit out of him.

�� Harry
closed his eyes again, and tried to think. Yesterday, he had known what he
wanted, even as he acknowledged that it might not be possible. He wanted to go
home and resume his Auror work. He wanted Draco and Theresa to leave him alone.
He wanted to forget about the things they were trying to make him remember.

�� Now, he
didn�t have a clue what he wanted.

�� He wondered
if he ever had. Defeating Dark wizards and catching them had seemed a natural
path for him after the Horcrux hunt, but that had come out of a conversation
with McGonagall in his fifth year, when he had said that he wanted to be an
Auror because- well, because. And fifth year was nearly half a lifetime ago
now. He�d been fifteen. Should he let that control his life?

�� Well, yes,
perhaps. He�d been more alive then, in many ways, than he ever had since.

�� But he
didn�t know if he wanted to remain an Auror or not. He would have to find
another job if he did retire, but he had some money stored away from his pay;
he could afford a few weeks or months of contemplation.

�� And then
there was the choice of staying where he was, keeping his bargain with Draco,
and talking to Theresa still.

�� Maybe
that was the real reason I didn�t want to cry, Harry thought, and broke the
stillness to stretch his arms over his head. As long as I didn�t deal with
the grief, I had an excuse to pause where I was and not move forward. And now
I�m just a hollowed shell, and I have to figure out how to learn life again.
I�m not sure that I want that, either, but I don�t have a choice.

�� Good
morning,� Draco�s voice whispered into his shoulder.

�� Harry
deliberately blanked his mind, the way he had once tried to do in Occlumency
training. He was going to go with the moment and see where it took him. He
rolled over until he and Draco were face-to-face.

�� Good
morning,� he whispered back, not because he had to keep his voice that soft,
but because it seemed natural to do so.

�� Draco
regarded him solemnly for a long moment. Harry wondered if he would move, but
Draco seemed to be deliberately holding himself in check. Perhaps he thought he
would frighten Harry, or thought it best that he made the decision on his own.

�� But Harry
was thinking with a hollowed-out mind, like an eggshell full of sunlight, and
so, for the first time in a long while, he went with his impulses and not his
training or his self-control.

��

�� He leaned
forward, and kissed Draco firmly, letting his tongue slip into his mouth. He
didn�t think; he did.

*

�� Draco felt
he should hold his breath. God, was this really happening? Was Harry really
kissing him, carefully but with increasing insistence and force, as if Draco
might vanish whether or not he did it?

�� Yes, he
was. And Draco now suspected that Harry�s surrender to tears had been a
surrender in other important ways.

�� He wasn�t
fool enough to pass up a kiss like this, at least. He slipped one hand around
the back of Harry�s neck, and pulled him closer, taking control of the kiss,
and then tearing away from Harry�s lips to explore his cheeks, the corners of
his mouth, his throat.

�� Harry
arched his back, offering himself up, his breathing fast and shallow, his eyes
already wide and dilated. Draco went slowly, certain Harry would regret this
and pull away any moment, but he didn�t seem to. Instead, he held still and let
Draco explore him.

�� The skin of
his neck was smoother than Draco would have expected, and far saltier. Perhaps Harry
spent more of his time sweating than other people, Draco thought, entranced and
dazed, though surely he should have noticed that during his intense observation
over the last few years if it was true. His shoulder was hard and bony, a
sudden rise against Draco�s hand. He shifted track and kissed the fluttering
pulse point at the base of Harry�s throat instead. It fluttered harder, and
Harry�s arms came up and tugged Draco down until he rested against his chest,
then abruptly rolled them over so that he straddled Draco�s legs and groin.

�� It would
have taken a stronger man, and a more selfless one than Draco had ever claimed
to be, to resist that pressure. He arched upward, making sure that Harry could
feel his erection against his leg, and Harry�s eyes just got wider, darker,
more intense. Draco had the feeling that the trained Auror was behind them now,
studying him, while before Harry had kissed almost as if empty, something
essential gone out of him.

�� Harry
stooped and took his turn exploring. His tongue wasn�t nearly as practiced as
Draco�s, or his kisses as expert, but the mere fact that he�d initiated this
contact, that he wasn�t just lying there passively, set Draco aflame. He let
his head roll to the side and released guttural groans that he hadn�t ever
shown any of his other lovers. Harry deserved his openness more than they had.

�� Draco,�
Harry whispered at last, moving his mouth to Draco�s ear. Draco shivered and
comforted himself with the idea that at least Harry�s ears were more sensitive
than his own. A mere touch made Harry move closer, intent on getting
more of the contact that his body wanted even if his mind didn�t.

�� What,
Harry?� Draco asked, hoping the next words out of Harry�s mouth would be �Fuck
me.� Yes, it might be wrong to do that so close to Harry�s grief, but, on the
other hand, sex was a way of affirming life in the presence of death and
mourning. At least that was the way Draco intended to explain their having sex
to Theresa if she asked.

�� Harry
cocked his head. �What do you want?� he asked. �What�s in it for you if we do
become- if we have sex?� Draco wished he could have known what word Harry was
originally going to put at the end of that sentence, but he strove for
patience, above the impatient cries of his body, and answered as calmly as he
could.

�� I want
you, Harry.� He raised a hand to still Harry�s open mouth, which was about to
say he knew that, and found his hand pushed flat against Harry�s chest, they
were so close. God, if Harry would press down just a little more...But
he had to ignore that. The question Harry had asked was important. �Yes, like
that. But also more than that. Your presence, your companionship, the
expression on your face when you�re actually happy for a sustained period of
time. The way you look when you come, as well as what you�ll make me feel when
you do it.� He paused, then shrugged, and even that made their shoulders bump.
�And maybe more than that, too, but that�s as much as I�m willing to commit to
right now.�

�� An intense
moment passed, and then Harry sat back with a small shake of his head. �Perhaps
we should wait, then,� he said.

�� Draco made
his vocalization a grunt of frustration rather than a scream. That was
progress, at least, he thought. �Why?� he asked. �You don�t have to fuck
me if you�d rather not, Harry, but- �

�� Harry
shifted then, and Draco felt his cock brush against Draco�s own. Both of them
shuddered simultaneously, Harry�s head falling back, Draco�s spine pressing
hard into the bed. But Harry�s voice, incredibly, still sounded half-controlled.

�� I want to
know more about you. I don�t want to rush into this just because I would
like sex right now. If this- if this is a permanent friendship, partnership,
whatever it is, you need to get something out of it, too, Draco. It�s good to
know that you want to make me happy, but what can I do to make you happy? I�ll
need to know you better than I do to answer that question.�

�� Damn
Gryffindor selflessness! Harry could use a good hard fuck as much as he
could right now; Draco knew he could. Harry kept moving slowly from side,
showing that part of him wasn�t quite convinced by his elegant little speech,
but then he shook his head and stilled his motion.

�� Draco
caught his breath and said, �You know...� He let it trail off suggestively
enough to do the trick. Harry raised his eyebrows.

�� What?�

�� Perhaps we
don�t need to fuck yet,� said Draco. Harry�s eyes rested on his mouth
when he said that word, and Draco resisted, manfully, the urge to flip him back
over and get on with things. �But that doesn�t mean that we can�t do something
else. Something short of that, but- satisfying in its own way.�

�� Harry�s
eyes darkened more. �What?� he asked, his voice dry and half-strangled.

�� Let me
show you,� said Draco, and tried to make his tone soft and seductive and
soothing all at once.

�� He must
have done something right. Harry�s breathing deepened, and that pulse was
beating crazily in his throat now, showing his excitement.

�� He said one
word, but it was enough for Draco.

�� Yes.�

*********

�� YamiBakura:
At the very least, Harry considers Draco a friend, and he would jump in front
of a curse for a friend. His instincts took over at that point in the last
chapter.

�� HazelWolf:
I don�t intend to write a typical top or bottom dynamic. There are authors who
can write it convincingly, but I�m not one of them. I start laughing when I
try, and, well, I can�t write it well from there.

�� Caroline:
I�ve read lots and lots of books, too many to name them all, and the sheer
accumulated mass of them probably helps. But the authors who�ve taught me the
most about handling emotions are one Victorian novelist, George Eliot, and two
fantasy authors, Guy Gavriel Kay and George R. R. Martin. Eliot�s prose can be
slow going, but her characters (especially in Middlemarch) are worth it.
Guy Gavriel Kay writes books that just break my heart, especially Sailing to
Sarantium and Lord of Emperors; there�s so much passion in
his work. Martin�s series starting with A Game of Thrones will rip out
your heart and stomp on it; it�s full of living, breathing people whom Martin
then drags mercilessly through all the horrors of a real war, including murder,
mutilation, rape, and torture. All of them know a lot about grief.

�� And I made
Draco obsessed because I needed him to know a lot about Harry, including
details of his life and the way he�d typically react to emotional situations.
The stalkerish vibe also provides a nice, disturbing little undertone.
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Learning Life Over