30AN: I was in an angsty mood.. so I decided to write this little oneshot. I'm not sure how it turned out, but I hope you like it.
Warnings: male/male relationship, mild cursing
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: Not mine!
When Harry opened the door to his apartment he was greeted with the sight of his lover sitting out on the railing of the balcony, silver eyes gazing lifelessly at the forty stories stretched out below him.
"What the hell are you doing, Draco?" Harry snapped, dropping his bag and storming outside. "Ron and Hermione will be over here in a few minutes! I thought I told you that you couldn't come over tonight!"
Draco turned slowly to face him, and the brunette was taken aback by the haggard look of the normally pristine blonde. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and listless. "Would it matter, Harry?" he asked.
"Would what matter?" Harry impatiently replied, anxiously praying that his friends wouldn't walk in and see their rival in his apartment.
"If I jumped," the blonde murmured, idly swinging his legs out in front of him.
"Wha–what?" Harry hissed, expression twisting in bewilderment. "Of course it would, Draco– stop being so melodramatic! Now come on and get back to your place before they get here!"
The blonde didn't move, merely lifted his eyes to gaze mindlessly out at the city. "Would you cry for me, Harry?" he asked softly. "Would you show up at my funeral?" His voice trembled a little, lips bowing in a melancholy curve. "Or would you go straight to your friends and celebrate?"
"Draco, stop," Harry said, glancing at the door, then back at his lover. "Please. Just get down and we can talk about this tomorrow. I really don't have time for this."
"Because you can't stand for them to see me," Draco blithely filled in.
"Don't–don't say it like that," Harry said, irritated. "I just– I don't want them to know about us yet. We've gone over this. I thought you were okay with it."
"When...when will you want to be with me, Harry?" Draco asked, genuine pain starting to creep into his voice. "When will I be important enough to you?"
"You are important to me," Harry ground out, running his hand over his face in frustration. "I'm just not ready, alright? I'm perfectly content with what we have now. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"
The blonde shook his head sadly, remaining silent for a few long moments before whispering, "You know, Harry... I couldn't live without you. But I don't think you'd even bat an eye if I were gone."
Harry sighed, beginning to feel the first tendrils of guilt coil up in his gut. "That's not true," he said tiredly.
The blonde brought a shaking hand up and wiped his eyes. "It is," he repeated, voice pained. "I don't mean anything to you."
Harry swallowed, feeling the guilt a little more poignantly now; churning deeply in his stomach. "Yes you do," he said, cautiously stepping closer to the blonde. "Why don't you come here and we can talk this out, okay?"
Draco smiled sadly, expression gradually melting into a sort of serene peace, all creases smoothing in his face as he slowly got to his feet on the railing. "Tell me you love me, Harry," he murmured, closing his eyes as the wind washed over his face.
"Wha– Draco, what are you doing?" Harry demanded, voice growing panicked. "Get down from there, right now!"
"Please just say it," the blonde said thickly, head dropping to his chest; Harry heard his breath hitch in a sob.
"Draco, of course I love you," Harry said pleadingly. "You know that. Now please, please get down. We can figure this out."
Draco turned to look at him, then, and Harry felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut; he'd never seen such agony in a person's eyes before– the silver glowed with an all-encompassing, incomprehensible pain; Harry had never felt so terrible in all his life. It was as if he'd broken the other man, just shattered him to pieces– he wasn't sure if he could put him back together.
But he had to try.
"Please, Draco, let me fix this," Harry whispered, wishing so badly that he could rewind time and take back every harsh word, every cold rejection, every hurt he'd ever put his lover through.
The blonde blinked and twin tears rolled down his cheeks; the setting sun made them glitter in the light. "Sorry, Harry," he murmured. "This is goodbye."
"No, Draco, don't!" Harry shouted, and all at once everything was a blur. Draco threw himself forward over the side of the building; Harry lunged for him but he wasn't quick enough, he felt bone-deep panic and desperation surge through him–
–and then a burst of magic exploded in his veins and in his mind's eye he saw Draco coming back to him; he focused all his energy on his lover and felt power thrum around him like electricity; when he opened his eyes Draco was hurtling back up through the air, thin body twisting with the strength of Harry's magic, rocketing straight towards him. Harry opened his arms and caught the blonde; the sheer momentum of the other sent them both careening through the door to the balcony and onto the carpet in the living room.
They came to a stop and there was a moment of tense silence; then Draco began blindly beating at his lover's chest, sobs rising in his throat and pouring out of him with a ferocity that was nearly frightening.
"Why couldn't you let me do it?" the blonde wailed, digging his fingers into the other's shoulders and shaking him. "All–all I wanted was to–to– god damnit, Harry, I hate you! I hate you!"
"I know," Harry murmured, feeling his heart wrench in his chest as he wrapped his arms around the other man, trying to still him. "I know."
Draco bent his head against the other's chest as his whole body convulsed with sobs. "I–I hate this," he choked. "I hate that–that I can't say I hate you and–and mean it. I hate that I l-love you so damn much, and you'll never feel the same way. I hate–" he broke off, unable to continue, gasping, painful breaths making speech impossible.
"Oh, Draco," Harry sighed, pressing his lips against the fair blonde hair, wishing he could take away the hurt the other was feeling. "I do love you. You've got to believe that."
Draco's fingers curled desperately in the other's shirt, squeezing until his knuckles went white.
"I know it doesn't feel like it," Harry continued softly, smoothing his hands down the other's quivering back. "And I'm so sorry I've hurt you this badly. I've never regretted anything more in my entire life."
Draco nodded, feeling the tears drip down his chin and soak his lover's shirt. "It's–it's okay, Harry," he whispered.
"No, it's not," Harry said firmly, pulling back and cupping the other's face in his hands, thumbs ghosting over the wet, flushed cheeks as he stared intensely into those shining silver eyes. "What I've been doing to you for the past four years has been selfish...cruel. Expecting you to be okay with hiding from everyone– expecting you to just accept me being with Ginny so no one would find out– God, it was so wrong of me. I just got so caught up in it– I didn't realize how my behavior was affecting you." His voice lowered a little, and he glanced away as he murmured, "I...I wouldn't blame you if you never forgive me for this, Draco."
Draco smiled a little through his tears. "Like I said, Harry– I can't live without you. You could do whatever you wanted to me, and I'd still love you."
Harry tucked a blonde lock behind his lover's ear, felt the brush of tear-laden eyelashes against his palm. "Come here," he whispered.
Draco leaned forward and they kissed, tenderly; then Harry wrapped strong arms around his waist and pulled him against his chest. The blonde curled into him, feeling warmth and security spread through his entire body. His lover ghosted gentle fingers through his hair and down his back, whispered soothing words in his hair and kissed his temple; the blonde hid his face in the soft folds of the other's shirt and wished he could stay there forever. At that moment he'd never wanted more poignantly for time to just...stop.
And then Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were bursting through the door, and reality hit him like a ton of bricks.
It was all going to go back to the way it was.
He felt despair lick at his insides like flames.
"Malfoy? What the hell are you doing here!?" Ron shouted, storming over to them. "Get off of Harry!"
He made to grab at Draco and Harry pulled the blonde closer to him, shielding him from the other's angry fists.
"Don't touch him, Ron," he growled.
The redhead pulled back, startled. "W-what? But Harry– he's–he's Malfoy!"
"That's right," Harry said calmly. "This is Draco Malfoy. The man I love."
Draco went utterly still in his arms, peering up at his lover with disbelieving eyes. "Harry–what?" he breathed.
"You mean everything to me," Harry whispered, before taking his lips in one of the most heady, passionate kisses they'd ever shared.
Neither of them noticed when Hermione quietly ushered her flabbergasted husband out the door, nor did they see her stop and gaze at them, lips curled in a gentle smile.
Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed in that one moment except the press of their lips to one another's and the frantic beating of their hearts.