Chapter Text
Harry floated on the feeling of sheer happiness that came with a proper night of getting pissed. He had celebrated the culmination of his worst work week…ever. After an absolute mess of a raid, preceded by one of the most drawn out and intense investigations he had ever led, Harry had been met with an inquiry conducted by the department. He was cited by fellow Aurors for not following procedure; which may or may not have been true.
It was a right mess.
Ron had joined him after work, but Hermione had disagreed with the engagement telling Harry that, ‘Drinking away his problems was no way to start the process of accepting the consequences of his actions.’ Hermione had always been better at dealing with things of this nature, but Harry had said, 'Fuck it,' and gone for a drink.
Harry knew as he apparated home that he should have told Draco about the gathering, but had thought that it wouldn’t count for much because he had been doing a lot of going out these days…without Draco.
But as Harry walked toward his flat, he felt guilt wash over him from his dishonesty and didn’t want to open the door. He hesitated. After considering his options, he realized it wouldn’t matter one bit whether he left and came back later because he knew tonight was not going to end well.
***
Draco sat in the room listening to Harry sluggishly move towards the door. The room was dark with only a corner lamp giving a glow. Upon first seeing the flat, it was something he completely expected from Harry. It was large but contained very little on the side of furniture. The fridge was almost never stocked, with Harry almost always opting for take away over actually cooking. It drove Draco mad. He supposes it doesn’t matter now.
Draco is leaving Harry, and it is destroying him.
He wanted to stay with him but knew that Harry was doing very little to grow from what he had done from the war. The nightmares had only gotten worse, Harry was reckless in his duties as an Auror, and recently, Draco had no idea where he was until he was finally home and passed out. It was breaking Draco’s heart and he couldn’t do it anymore.
Harry entered the room and immediately looked at Draco. Shame painted on his face. Draco huffed.
“Do you even care what time it is?”
Harry has nothing worth saying to Draco that won’t piss him off any more than he already is. He tries to speak but it all amounts to choked sounds in his throat.
“Come on then, out with it.”
“I didn’t think it would matter-” Draco stands immediately.
“YOU NEVER THINK!”
He is angrier than he has been in ages. Hell, he hasn’t been this angry in years. Completely different circumstances of course, but the anger towards Harry feels familiar…comfortable even. He feels both satisfied and disgusted with himself at this revelation.
“Don’t. Yell. Please. I am already feeling the sick coming.”
Harry attempts to steady himself on the wall but mildly prolongs the inevitable. The next thing he knows, Harry’s on the floor, frustrated and looking like an idiot.
“Harry, we need to talk about something.”
Harry’s eyes focus on Draco’s and he looks confused. He suddenly catches sight of two medium sized pieces of luggage sitting next to Draco on the floor. He immediately sits up as best he can while still sitting on the floor, but dares not to stand for fear of falling over completely and further damaging this already damaged situation.
“What are those for?”
“I think it’s about time… I left.”
“Why-“
“You know why Harry,” Draco’s words are calm and quiet
Harry sits dumbfounded. An expression Draco had become accustomed to and even liked at some points, but in this moment, Draco can barely look at him. He sits back down on the armchair he was occupying and waits for Harry’s questions.
“Where are you going to go?”
“Pansy’s for now. After that, it won’t be your concern.”
“Draco-“
“Please, I beg you, don’t pretend that this is all perfect. That we’re just fine. You’ve never been good at lying Harry.” At this Draco begins to tear up, and then looks down to hide that they’re going to freely start flowing soon.
“I know it’s not perfect. I know it hasn’t been great but certainly, it hasn’t been bad. What exactly is wrong? We can fix it can’t we?”
Draco sighs with the past few months of pain sitting on his chest.
“Where do I begin, Harry? Recently, it’s you being out till all hours of the night while you get pissed with your friends. It’s your blatant refusal to acknowledge your nightmares, and before you try to deny it, I know they are all war-related. But most heart wrenching of all is the way you look at me sometimes…” Draco’s voice begins to quiver, “Half the time I don’t know if you love me or if you hate me. But how would I know if you love me? You’ve never even told me.”
Harry draws a deep breath, stands up, and begins to raise his voice.
“Don’t say that! That’s not-“
Draco stands as he begins to shout back, “Yes, it is, Harry, and I had hoped when you got home, sober, we could speak about this. But of course, drunk Harry, who seems to be the only one I got to see these past few weeks, beat you to it!”
Harry is staring at Draco with an intensity that is hard to place. He has tried over the years to try and read Harry when he is at his worst, but these faces flash then go; leaving shadows of feelings that get buried in the muck only Harry knows and will ever know. When he refuses to show his true thoughts, Draco assumes it's just one more way for Harry to shut him out and it makes his chest ache.
Draco attempts to steady his own voice, but it comes shaky out and peppered with small sobs.
“I wanted so much for us. I wanted to make it work with you because I thought that if we made each other happy, then perhaps whatever was behind us could just stay behind. We made it out. We survived, Harry. I wanted everything for us, but I can’t do this by myself.”
Draco moves to cradle Harry’s now crying face.
“I love you so much Harry, but I cannot handle what comes next. I know you’ve died once at someone else’s hand… but I don’t think I could see it happen by your own.”
***
There were days when Harry convinced himself that Draco didn’t want anything to do with him and that it was all a cruel joke cooked up by the Malfoy clan to humiliate him. But then he came to his senses and decided that perhaps he just deserved happiness; something he was intensely suspect of and thought would allude him for decades.
Harry knew he was wrong for it, but he shoved everything he felt about Draco away because Harry had no fucking idea how to be anything other than broken and barely breathing.
But the truth was, that he loved Draco so much that it scared the shit out of him.
It made no sense that Draco had stuck it out with Harry this long, but Harry hoped that he must have seen at some point how much he truly cared for him; even if he never said it, he must have known…
As Harry thinks this, he can feel everything slip from him; Draco is leaving him and there isn’t a thing he can do about it. He looks at him with childlike sadness because seeing Draco like this, raw, unrefined, crying, and broken-hearted, is intolerable. So, if leaving Harry will fix Draco, then Draco needs to go.
He places his hands around Draco’s waist and draws himself in as Draco accepts the gesture and puts his arms around his shoulders. Harry lays his head on his chest and steadies himself before he attempts to make eye contact again. Before he tries to memorize every, last detail of his face. The face that at one point Harry loathed and hated, had become everything he loved in the world: a symbol of the future peace he desperately wanted but never felt was possible.
Harry had seen Draco deal with his selfishness and the self-destructive way he worked his Auror job. Never casting Protego spells during a raid, never following protocol any time he was on his own, hardly thinking past the next thirty minutes, and never once considering what kind of pain he had caused Draco in doing those things. Perhaps Draco had it all figured out and Harry was merely holding him back from a life he deserved. Maybe Draco had finally healed from the war.
Harry thought he had time to work on the cracks: they had developed in his childhood only to worsen as an adult, and it wasn’t fair to Draco to have to wait that long. Harry had prolonged Draco’s unhappiness by ignoring his own, and now faced the reaping of what he had sewn.
***
Draco feels Harry’s breathing finally even out as the moment, he’s been dreading the most, approaches without regret. Harry lifts his head off Draco’s chest, and while Draco’s breathing hitches, Harry kisses him in a way he has never experienced before.
Harry is kissing him goodbye.
Nothing has felt this solid and real between them in months, and he enjoys every moment of it. But he needs it to end as quickly as possible because one second more than he can handle, and he will unpack and start the toxic cycle over again. He pulls away, slowly, trying to steady his mind.
“I sent an owl to Hermione and she will be over tomorrow. She is aware of what’s happening and doesn’t want you to be by yourself. Don’t try and argue because she’s coming anyway, and I’m sure she’s told Ron by now, so he’ll probably be with her.”
Harry looks like he’s about to argue, but Draco knows that underneath that façade is silent acceptance and even relief.
He draws his wand and charms his bags to start moving towards the door. Harry watches Draco with pained silence, but there is nothing left to be done. He thought of countless ways to attempt and patch whatever they could, but every time he wanted to try something, they ended up having earth-shattering arguments over things he can’t remember now. His fixation on trying to repair Harry only magnified how much he wasn’t fixing himself. Draco rationalized the idea that if they stayed together, they were destined for a life of sadness and decay, only to become shells as the years drug on. Apart, they had a chance at real happiness and with that thought, he opens the door.
Draco moves along while the bags move with him. As he turns to face Harry again, the bags float into his hand with ease. He reaches for Harry’s neck, and as he embraces him, he closes his eyes and presses his lips to Harry’s forehead.
While still hovering quite near, he whispers to Harry, “Please, Potter, whatever you do, try and be happy. Even if that isn’t with me, just try.” Draco pulls away, taking with him more than he realizes, and with a loud pop, he’s gone. Harry stands in his doorway alone and crying.