Chapter Ten.
Tomorrows and the things they bring.
"Do you really want to go much faster?
Anything but love is disaster."
-Faster, Seven Mary Three.
London. 1998.
Harry stood in the house that had found Draco residing in it's halls after the war. It was nice, if run down place. There was no staff and the carpets felt damp even with shoes on. It was a far cry from the way he had been living at Malfoy Manor. Draco pulled up a chair for Harry to sit on and then fell back onto his sofa, which was likely the nicest piece of furniture in the entire house.
"So, what're you selling, Potter?"
Harry sat down and shifted until he could find a comfortable place, "I'm going to be leaving the country. I was thinking of going to America."
"I hear New York City is something." Draco offered.
"I'll take that into account." Harry paused, "And I'm hoping that you will too."
Draco sat up, "Why would I?"
"I'd... I came over to ask you to come with me."
"Why?" Draco searched his eyes, "I mean, why me? Why not take Weasly?"
Harry smiled a small, sad smile, the smile of a man that sleeps too little and worries too much, "Because I want to start over. I want to start my life over." He looked around Draco's house, "And I get the feeling that this is something you and I might have in common."
Draco scratched his chin as he looked over the squalor he was living in, the bottles of fire whiskey covering every surface, the over flowing ashtrays and the discarded plates with half finished meals stuck to them by age alone, "Yeah. You might be right about that, Potter. You might be right."
New York City. 1998.
Draco was drunk. Draco was usually drunk. A strange combination of being in a new place and feeling hopeless had mingled into something that showed all the early warning signs of a crutch if not a dependency. From the couch, where he awoke to find himself with his face against the floor and his groin pushed in the cushions, he could hear a strange sound.
It was sound he knew, a sound he was completely familiar with. It was the sound of a man in pain. He could hear Harry pacing, he knew the insomnia was fast and loose with Harry's health, but didn't know much besides. He got up, finding himself stiff and filled with small and varied aches and pains. He looked down at the couch and wondered momentarily how long he had been passed out there. He reached for his half empty forty of Evan Williams Whiskey, a brand that he hated the taste of but loved the price for.
He limped down the hall, one hand clutching his back for support the other hand clutching his bottle of whiskey for the same reason. He saw the light trickling out from the side of Harry's door and bathing a spot of the hallway in bright florescent light. He walked over and put his eye to the gap where Harry's door stood open.
Harry's room looked a mess. Things were thrown around, books torn up and the alarm clock smashed in. Harry sat on the edge of his bed staring out his window like a death row inmate. Next to him on the bed there was a letter, it was slightly torn at the edges and crumpled all over but had been smoothed out since.
Draco closed the door and walked back down the hall to disappear into his own pain and his bottle of support.
New York City. 1999.
Draco had been in bed for three days, sweating out cheap whiskey. Three times a day Harry would bring in a tray of soup and some light solid foods for Draco to eat. He sat and talked with him the while. Draco was feeling stronger, less sick to his stomach at the very least. He sat up, wiped the seat from his forehead and took a long sip from the glass of water Harry left by his bed.
He got up, to test out his legs, and then doubled over and vomited onto the floor beside his bed. He collapsed face down in his own sick and passed out wondering how he had let it get this bad.
* * *
Harry had been in charge of Draco's wallet. He had been for the last three months, but today he had given it back, trusting Draco to not spend it on alcohol, like he had the last time, his first and only relapse. Draco had accepted it, admiring the man who showed him such faith and trust.
Draco had gone out, to pick up something quick to eat and to look around for the space on which he would put up the gallery he and Harry had talked about for so long on so many late nights while he recovered. He walked past a liquor store.
He felt the pull inside him, the inner coward looking for a simple out. He turned around and walked back, to stand in front of the door. To look inside. He could see everything through those glass doors. He reached out, put his hand on the handle.
He stopped and shook his head. He moved his hand back, withdrew it and repeated for twenty minutes. Finally he went home and wrote a check out to send to a charity that he had heard about through some old acquaintances in the wizarding world, the kind of thing he would have scoffed at not too long ago. Like Harry. He would have scoffed at Harry not too long ago.
* * *
New York City. 2000.
Draco was running a vacuum over the hardwood in the living room when Harry walked in. Draco cast him a glance that said, "help me.". Harry nodded and walked out of the room. Draco threw his arms up in air, the handle of the vacuum hitting the hardwood lost under the noise the machine put out in general, as where the sounds of Draco swearing.
When the sound of the vacuum stopped Draco cast his gaze around. He spotted Harry holding the power cord, unplugged, in his right hand. On Harry's face was a look of benign amusement and in his left hand was a swiffer mop.
"I'm pretty certain that you don't vacuum hardwood floors, Malfoy."
Draco rubbed the back of his neck, "You don't?"
"Sweep or mop, but you don't vacuum." Harry concluded.
"Why?"
"I have no idea."
"I just want the place to look nice." Draco confessed, "Tonight is really important to me."
"This I gathered."
"She's a really great girl."
"I know."
"Do I seem nervous to you?"
"Very."
"What do I do?" He looked small and childlike for a moment, "I want her to like me."
Harry patted his shoulder, "She will, mate." He indicated behind him with his finger, "I'll clean up the bathroom, you go make her something to drink for when she gets here."
"What do we have?" Draco asked.
"We have tea, coffee and a shit load of juice in the fridge."
Harry went off to clean the bathroom and Draco stood in the living room flexing his hands again and again. He shot a glance at the door and knew where his feet would take him if he walked out now. He wrote out a check to his favorite charity before he made up a concoction of several different fruit juices and named it The Malfoy Special.
* * *
New York City. 2001
Draco rolled over in bed to see Amber sleeping next to him. He sat awake and stared at her for what he wished would turn into forever. The small patch of light from the window left a haunting circle of light on her forehead. He traced the lines of her face, as if to memorize it, to keep it inside of himself forever. She smiled in her sleep, some pleasant dream fantasy chasing her fancy, and for the briefest of moments he knew that her smile had been meant for him.
He heard Harry walking around the living room, the forever insomniac tracing out his desire path along the floorboards of an apartment just big enough to shelter him from the demons of his past. Draco sighed and resolved to send another check in the morning.
New York City. 2002.
Draco fixed his signature to the check and mailed it. He took small pleasure in the notion that his check would arrive in London around the same time that Harry arrived back in New York. It was almost as if he was paying for the privilege of a good friend and a remarkably happy life. While the total sum of his donations to his charity, his "sober-from-here-on-out" charity, he felt like he owed the world a far greater amount for all of the blessing heaped on him in the last few years.
His apartment was home. A home that was because he shared it with the two most important people in his world. He could her Amber, as much as feel her some days, moving around in the kitchen. She had decided to get him eating better, and had taken it upon herself to fix the meals he would enjoy. She had long ago given up on getting Harry to quit smoking, acknowledging in defeat that all people are allowed one vice.
Draco knew what his vice was, and so did she. But they both pretended that it was his charity. They both pretended that giving away money was a vice and not an act of contrition. They loved each other, and love has a remarkable way about it when it comes to changing the hearts and minds involved in it.
London. 2003.
Harry sat on a park bench, letting the afternoon sun warm his face. In the field by him were children spinning in circles, their arms pointed out. They would spin until the fell down, dizzy and laughing like mad. Harry smiled to himself. Not because these children exemplified a simpler time in life, but because he couldn't imagine how great it would feel to spin in circles until everything made sense in a totally frenetic whirl of activity and joy.
Harry Potter then stood up and spun himself in circle until he fell down laughing, and if only for that small amount of time he was deliriously in love with being alive.
* * *
Hermione presented Draco with a slip of paper. Draco looked down at it to see his familiar handwriting donating money to his familiar charity.
"Where did you get this?" He asked.
"I run the charity, Malfoy." She crossed her arms in front of her and scowled, "Care to explain?"
"You run this?" He blinked, "I've been donating to this thing for years."
"I've noticed."
"I had no idea it was yours."
She dropped her arms and blinked, "You didn't?"
"No." He shook his head, "I just... I needed to do something. Neville suggested that I should donate to a charity."
"You talk to Neville?"
"He came around the apartment a few times to see Harry. We got to talking."
"When?"
"When he lived in the states." Draco shrugged, "If it's a problem I can stop donating."
"Why do you donate?"
"At first it was something to do whenever I felt a compulsion to drink. I had this dark booze stained period in my life." He smiled nervously, "After that, it was kind of about personal growth. I had misjudged Harry and I started to think that I had misjudged some of my notions about equality in the world as well."
"You... you did?"
"I did." He rubbed his arm, "Is this what you wanted to talk about?"
Hermione doubled over onto the couch and stared ahead of her, "I though it was... I thought... I don't know what I thought."
"You wanted it to be Harry who put me up to it." Draco sat down and took her hand into his, "You wanted it to be about you and Harry."
She nodded, "I did, didn't I? How miserable is that?"
"It isn't." He smiled, "And I just totally understood you for the first time."
"Good or bad?"
"Both." He sat back, releasing her hand, "We're all a little bit of both."
"You must think I'm so stupid. I should be happy that you support my charity. I should be thanking you."
"Yeah, you should. But we'll get to that." Draco grinned mischievous, "You really love him, don't you?"
"Of course I do." She shook her head, "I've always loved him. Always."
"And you probably know how he feels about you, then."
"I hear things." She wiped her eye, "But that's all. He doesn't do anything. People keep telling me how much he loves me, how much he loves me like I love him, but he only wants to flirt with the notion of us being just friends. I don't know what to do. Do I give him time to figure it out, or do I push him? It's complicated."
"It really is." Draco agreed, "You fucked him up badly. Hurt him like no one ever had."
"I know."
"Is he worth waiting for?" Draco paused, "People are falling in love all around you. Ginny and Neville are starting, Ron and Luna are married, I'm married for Merlin's sake."
"Thanks for the reminder."
"Point is, do you think he's worth waiting for, or do you think you just want to be loved by someone and he just happened to be around."
"I don't know." She confessed, "I do love him. I really do."
"I believe you."
"But you're right." She hung her head, "You're so right. I thought I was okay with letting it happen naturally. Two days ago I was so happy just to have him back. Two days." She scoffed, "And now look at me. Anything but love is a disaster. What's happened to me?"
"You fell in love." Draco said, "Happens to the best of us."
"But if I love him shouldn't I be comfortable with waiting?"
"Who told you that?" Draco blinked in surprise, "I mean, shit, that is about the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me. I thought you were smart."
"Huh?" She blinked.
"Love has no concept of time. Any amount of time between the spark of love and it being returned might as well be forever. Agonizing goddamn forever."
"That's...what?"
"Man, when I fell for Amber I felt like I was walking around of needles all the time she wasn't around me. And when she was around me? Fuck all, it was bad. I wanted to just confess everything all the time. I wanted her to love me in big, bold, vibrant capital letters. And also I wanted to shrink into nothing so she would never notice how I felt about her, because that was so embarrassing in so many ways, to feel that way for someone."
"Makes sense." She shrugged, "In a blunt kind of way."
"Look, love isn't this passive or quiet thing, it's loud and violent and charged with energy. It's a man screaming in a crowded room. It doesn't go unnoticed, and when it does, when you don't realize you love someone, it isn't love."
"It's weird, this thing happening right now." She smiled, "Draco Malfoy is giving me advice on love. Good advice on love for that matter."
"What can I say?" He smiled, "If things didn't change how would we know that life was happening?"
"Fair point." She patted his elbow, "Thank you for this, Draco."
He smiled and patted her hand, "You're welcome."
* * *
Harry stood outside the door to his flat, wondering if he should knock or if he should just go in. On one hand he lived there, on the other he was a little afraid of what he'd find on the other side of the door. Finally he opened the door to find Hermione on the other side. From further inside he could make out the sounds of Draco watching TV. Hermione looked at him shocked, her hand still extended to grab the door knob that was no longer there.
Harry looked at her and it all came crashing back, the hard to define jealousy that had swept through him when he had left. He sighed and released the door. She let her hand fall to the side. They stood looking at each other, and trying not to at the same time. She moved her hand to her face, reaching for an errant strand of hair. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled, he smiled.
They both blushed furiously.
"Can we talk?" He asked her.
"I've been doing a lot of talking lately." She smiled, "But sure."
He stepped away from the door and let her follow him down the stairs. Within minutes they found themselves walking the London side streets, avoiding crowds, and not speaking even a little at all as the sun went down against the hard line of London's skyscape.
The smell of a city at night prevailed, a combination of cooling cement and the leftover odor of human bodies in movement, the smell of foods cooking and paper. He smelled honeysuckle and dark chocolate and he knew it was her, it was the heady smell of her and he knew it by name because he had once stood in a corner of his flat breathing it in, wishing his flat smelled like it in more than the spots it clung to when she left him.
"Are we friends?" She asked him.
"Of course we're friends." He answered.
"Because I'm walking with you and enjoying the silence between us, just enjoying the company of you. And I don't know what that'll mean to you, but it means something to me." She blurted out.
He stopped walking, "This isn't what I wanted to talk about."
"Then what do you want to talk about?" She spun around to look at him, "Because if not this, then what? We maybe need to let this air out."
"I'm scared of you." He said, "I'm scared of you because of what's happening right now. Are you even sure this is the road you want to go down?"
"I don't know, Harry. I don't know what the future will hold for you and me. I don't." She shifted from one leg to another, "But if I don't at least to try to go down this road I'm going to regret it."
"Why were you talking to Malfoy?"
"Because I found out today that he's been the one making those mysterious donations to my charity and I thought, like a fool, that it might have had something to do with you."
He looked away, "Oh."
"Did you know?"
"I suspected." He shrugged, "I knew he donated to something. It made sense that it would be you when you told me about it."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Things were hard enough."
"What does that even mean?" She threw her arms out, "What are you talking about? Were you angry at me?"
"No." He looked up at just so he wouldn't have to look at her, "I didn't want you to be thinking about other men. It was selfish, it was stupid and I'm sorry."
"And that, that right there, you wanted to be the only man on my mind, that doesn't mean anything to you?"
"Of course it does." He looked down at her, pleading with his eyes for understanding, "But I'm not ready to try this with you. Don't you get that? I got burned the last time."
"I've changed."
"Everyone says that." He smiled sadly, "Everyone always says that they've changed but it doesn't stop them from leaving me."
"I know." She put her hand on his face, "I know. But I'll never make that mistake again."
"I don't believe you." he answered, "I'm not saying this to be mean, please don't think I am, but I just can't believe you."
"What's it going to take for you to believe in me?"
"I don't know."
She removed her hand and put her back to him. She let several moments, and lots of breaths escape between the two of them before she turned around again, "You tell me what I need to do and I'll do it. I'll fight for you, Harry Potter. I'll fight to prove myself to you."
"It isn't about you." He sighed, "It's about circumstance."
"I know that the people you love either leave you, die or betray you. I've been there through a lot of it, and I was guilty of it once." She kissed his cheek, "But if you give me another shot I'll be by your side forever and I swear to you that I'll try every day to make up for all of it."
"I need time. It's totally selfish and stupid but I need time." He pulled a few steps away from her, "I need to just get to see us as people before we rush into anything."
"You just want to be friends?" She shook her head, "I think my heart will break if you say that to me."
"No. I don't want to just be friends. I want something else, something big and important and forever, but I don't know if I can give that to you right now." He turned to her, "I don't have it in me to close a door on you again, 'Mione. I'm not strong enough to walk away from you again, either. I need you to be a part of my life and a part of what I'll be. But right now, it's all too confusing and muddy. It's a fucking mess and I need to sort it all out, find out what it is, exactly, that I'm so afraid of. Once I've put a face to it..."
"I think I can handle that." She gave him a teary eyed smile, "I can wait for you, you waited for me. It'll make us even."
"It's not about being even." He said quietly.
"Then what is it about?"
"I love you." He looked her in the eye, "I've always loved you. But every time we get here, to this place where we start to let each other feel these feelings openly something happens and ruins everything. I'm in love with you, and I think you're in love with me too and right now I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm waiting for the catastrophe that keeps us apart this time."
"What if this time there isn't one coming?"
"Then waiting for awhile to see shouldn't be a big deal."
"What if it's waiting that ends up keeping us apart?" She let her hand fall on his chest, "We could just love one another and let what happens happen."
"That's what I was trying to do." He smiled, "But you wanted to have this talk. And you know what? I suck at this talk. You always had this talk for me."
"What talk?"
"The relationship talk. Defining what we are. I'm bad at it. I don't like it."
"So what are we?" She asked.
"Does it matter?"
She shook her head, "Not tonight."
"But it will one day."
"Yes." She nodded, "And on that day we'll air all of our fears and our demons and I'll love you even more. I promise."
Harry nodded, but somewhere inside his brain the warning bells were ringing. It was happening too fast. Much too fast. He just kept nodding, and eventually they each went to their separate homes. Neither got much sleep, both worried about tomorrows and the things they bring.