Title: Ifs and Maybes
Author: 
ennyousai
Team: Epilogue
Prompt: 11. When in doubt, apparate.
Wordcount: ~2450
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for DH, but that's a given, no? ~_-
Summary: Harry and Draco have always known there was something between them. But sometimes what you want isn't the easy choice.
Author's Note: I was aiming for a sense of sadness in this fic in order to depict the tension between what you want and what you need to do. As such it isn't slash per se, but more along the lines of eternal UST. I hope it delivers.
Ifs and Maybes
Prologue — Winter of Harry's Sixth Year
Harry knows that Draco is turning into something of an obsession for him. He reminds himself constantly that it's because he has to keep an eye on him, make sure that he isn't making plans for some kind of Death Eater insurrection. It has nothing to do with the way candlelight gleams on pale blonde hair in the Great Hall at dinner or the way that grey eyes are almost blue when he's outside flying. Harry dogs Draco's footsteps out of well-founded suspicion and not for any other reason. His interest in the other boy is purely professional.
So when he's poring over the Marauder's Map one night shortly before Christmas and sees a dot labeled 'Draco Malfoy' making its way from the dungeons to up toward… the Astronomy Tower? Harry loses no time in grabbing his invisibility cloak and slipping out of Gryffindor Tower to follow him. He has to keep an eye on him. That's all.
Harry's had experience navigating the castle at night, so it's easy for him to avoid the suits of armor and paintings that are liable to start shrieking when they sense someone creeping through the corridors after hours, letting himself turn into nothing more than one of the numerous gusts of wind that blow through Hogwarts' lonely corridors when everyone else is asleep. When he finally reaches the Astronomy Tower and steps outside into the cold winter air, Draco is unaware of his presence. He's looking out over the school grounds, hair gleaming silver in the moonlight and his shoulders slumped in something that looks like despair. For a second Harry feels sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to carry a burden that feels impossibly heavy, and knows what it feels like to be alone even when you're surrounded by people. He feels something like kinship with Draco in that moment, but he stops that thought quickly. If Draco is carrying a burden, it is one that he should never have taken on to begin with, and one that will bring a lot of grief down on all their heads.
Draco's probably up here to receive a message of some sort, or maybe to send one. Secure in his invisibility, Harry moves carefully to stand just behind the Slytherin, so close that he could reach out touch the smooth patch of skin at Draco's nape. Draco sighs and leans back just a little, and Harry holds his breath. He can feel the soft passage of air from Draco's movement on his face and he holds his breath. Draco begins to pace the Tower, his eyes never leaving the stars shining far above them. He isn't acting like someone waiting for a secret message, but rather like someone who's just in search of a moment of peace.
He can relate to that. The night really is beautiful, the cold winter air giving the stars and the moonlight shimmering on the snow an extra shimmer that is otherworldly. And it is peaceful, really, to be out here with Draco in the stillness. A moment of calm in the gathering storm.
Scene I — After the Battle of Hogwarts
The eastern sky is showing the first streaks of dawn by the time the celebration starts to finally wind down. Everyone is reluctant to go to bed, fearing that they've dreamed the defeat of Voldemort and that in the morning the world will once again be an uncertain, fearful place. The longer they huddle in the Great Hall, talking and laughing and partaking of the pumpkin juice and cakes that the house elves have managed to conjure up without the sudden appearance of Death Eaters, the more they are able to realize that it's true: the Second War has ended. The nightmare is over.
Harry feels more tired than exuberant at this point. It's strange. Ever since he found out he was a wizard, so much of his life has revolved around Voldemort that he feels somewhat lost now that his great rival is gone. He feels relieved, yes, maybe even euphoric, but underneath it he can feel an empty uncertainty that threatens to overwhelm him the instant he stops and really thinks about what just happened.
What he needs is time to think. It's easy enough for him to slip quietly away -- everyone is in that strange state of euphoric exhaustion that comes from wild swings of emotion mixed with fine wine, and no one really notices him make his way to the Astronomy Tower. He can be alone up there, and the watch the sunrise in peace.
When he steps out into the chilly predawn air, though, he sees Draco Malfoy standing at the stone ramparts, his skin shining pale against his dark robes. Draco turns around when he hears Harry's footsteps; he doesn't seem the least bit surprised to have his solitude disturbed.
"Had enough of being the hero, Potter?"
"I had enough of that the second I started."
"Mmm. I believe you."
Draco looks tired, and Harry remembers another time when they stood on the Astronomy Tower together, although at that time Draco hadn't known he was there. They're still looking for a moment of peace, and it doesn't feel wrong that the two of them are searching together. They are two halves of the same coin, really, Slytherin and Gryffindor, the wealthy entitled pureblood and the halfblood who had been raised in misery by Muggles. It's only fitting that they be together at the dawn of a new world.
The eastern sky is starting glow faintly pink, and Harry moves to stand next to Draco at the rampart.
"If I could get away from all of this, I could."
"When in doubt, apparate," says Draco with a sardonic smile. "Except that you can't apparte from the Hogwarts grounds, of course."
"I suppose I'll just have to find another way to disappear, then." And that's what Harry wants more than anything, to just disappear, be free of the burden of being a hero, be free of being Harry Potter, only now that's impossible. Voldemort's death has made him a legend. He'll always be the Savior no matter where he goes.
Draco snorts, and his words are an echo of Harry's thoughts. "You'll never be able to. You'll always be Harry Potter, just like I'll always be Draco Malfoy. You can't escape the weight of your name."
Harry can't help it. He laughs. "Is this an actual conversation, Malfoy?"
"It would seem so. But don't think too much of it. We can never be friends."
The sun has cleared the horizon and the entire world is awash in shades of soft pink and pale yellow, beautiful and peaceful. Draco turns to go, and Harry is left alone, remembering Draco bleeding from gashes on his chest, lowering his wand before Dumbledore, saying he wasn't sure if the prisoner was Harry Potter or not…
"Seems like it," he whispers, and goes back inside.
Scene 2: Harry and Ginny's Engagement Ball
He would have liked it to be a small, intimate affair at the Burrow with just the Weasleys and a few close friends. The thing is that he is Harry Potter, and so a part of him will always belong to the Wizard World as a whole, not just himself. As such, they've rented out one of the most exclusive wizarding establishments in London where a single plate can run upwards of 100 Galleons. All of the notable names have received an invitation — Headmistress McGonagall, of course, the heads of all the departments at the Ministry, the new elite of the artistic scene, and a vast number of their Hogwarts contemporaries. The result is an intimate gathering of a few hundred witches and wizards all come together in order to celebrate the engagement of Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, to Ginevra Weasley, one of the heroines of the Second War. Mead and champagne flows freely, fairy lights glow like miniature stars, and there is a never ending parade of all kinds of delectable sweets. It is, in a word, exhausting.
Harry finishes yet another dance with his fiancée before graciously handing her off to Seamus Finnigan. He needs some fresh air. With a few smiles and nods he's able to slip out onto the balcony, where the chilly November air brushes against his cheeks and makes him sigh with relief. He lets his eyes close and savors the moment.
"Shouldn't you be inside dancing with your soon-to-be blushing bride?"
He should be surprised to hear Draco Malfoy's voice coming from the shadows, but he isn't, not really. He and Draco have not kept in touch, exactly, but they've kept track of each other, and always acknowledge each other when they cross paths. The Malfoys haven't suffered as much as they could have, mostly because of Harry's testimony at the Death Eater trials, and Harry always remembers their shared moments at the top of the Astronomy Tower with a sense of wistfulness, a part of him yearning to recapture that sense of connection that had flowed between them for those brief moments.
He's not sure that anyone else can fully understand what it feels like to be in a position of privilege but still be on the outside, trying desperately not to fail everyone's expectations. He might have been the Savior, and Draco the perfect Death Eater, but the experiences were not really all that different. It's an impossible burden to bear, no matter what side you find yourself on.
"It's rather crowded. I'm sure you can understand how stifling these sorts of functions can be."
"Like all good pureblood children, I've been attending such functions since I was old enough to stand. You learn to cope with them or go mad."
"That would explain a lot. And why are you here? I highly doubt you were sent an invitation, even by mistake."
"As if that would stop me from missing the social event of the year. Besides, I've always made a point of being present for significant events in your life, haven't I?"
A faint smile flits across Harry's face. "I suppose that's true enough."
Draco steps closer and takes the crystal champagne flute from his hand, taking a sip. "And so here you go again, doing what everyone expects of you. Marrying the Weaslette, working in the Auror department… I wonder if even you know just who Harry Potter is."
"I love Ginny. And my work."
"You're sure of that?"
Harry closes his eyes and tries to forget the feeling he sometimes has of following a path that's already been laid out for him. Doing what's expected of him doesn't mean that it's not also what he wants.
"Sure enough."
He feels cool fingers flutter lightly against his cheek. "Just remember that if it gets to be too much you can always apparate away and try to build something new. If you have the courage to try, of course."
Draco voice is faintly mocking. When Harry opens his eyes, he's gone.
Scene 3: Draco's Wedding Reception
The Polyjuice Potion is certainly enough to fool the guests and his assumed identity doesn't require him to make small talk with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, so Harry feels no trepidation whatsoever at walking into the Malfoy/Greengrass wedding reception. The sheer number of blonde, aristocratic witches and wizards in attendance render him utterly unremarkable. He's just another friend of the happy couple, and was he related to Laurent Mireau who had graduated from Beauxbatons some years ago? No? Something in the tilt of his chin is so similar… Perhaps he had been at Lucile Elderath's coming of age ball?
Harry smiles and makes polite, trivial conversation, sipping at the elf-made champagne and helping himself to exquisite little teacakes that are rich with the scent of almonds and rosewater. He takes his time in making his way to where the bride and groom are standing, resplendent in their formal marriage robes and smiling politely at the line of well wishers. When he finally reaches them, Harry makes sure to kiss the hand of the new Mrs. Malfoy and bow to the exact socially acceptable degree to Draco.
"Congratulations. I wish you all the best in this most auspicious partnership."
Astoria smiles vaguely, cool and polite, but Draco's eyes narrow at him. Harry never really thought that Draco would be fooled. So many of their Hogwarts years were spent dancing around each other that they learned the quirks of each other's body language, all the things that a mere potion can't disguise. Draco's fingers tighten around his when they shake hands, and Harry knows that they'll see each other again before the night is over.
He's right, of course.
They're standing on the balcony staring out at the glimmering fairy lights shimmering gently on the swath of front lawn, the sound of laughter and champagne flutes chiming against each other drifting out from the ballroom. Harry is perched on the broad stone railing, letting his feet dangle. It makes him feel like a kid again.
"Your parents must be pleased."
"Naturally. The Greengrass family is pureblood and wealthy. I couldn't have done better."
"Not even with Pansy Parkinson?"
Draco's nose turns up in distaste. "She doesn't have the refinement necessary for a Malfoy. Astoria is really much more suitable."
"Suitable." Harry smiles. "Tell me, Malfoy, is there anything you've ever wanted for yourself, and not because it's what's expected of you?"
Draco laughs. "Of course. But the security of having plenty of galleons somehow takes priority over such frivolities."
Now it's Harry's turn to laugh. "So your first love will always be money?"
"Money can buy quite a bit of happiness."
Harry remembers living in a cupboard under the stairs and only ever getting Dudley's cast offs. Finding out that he had a pile of wizard gold deep under London had been a revelation for him, and while he knows that there are many, many things more important than material wealth, to some extent money can make quite a bit of difference.
He and Draco are really alike in so many ways.
Harry tilts his head to one side. "We could try and get away, you know. Just apparate somewhere. Anywhere. Be ourselves instead of what everyone expects us to be."
Draco's smile is unexpectedly gentle. "I don't think so, Potter. Although it's a nice thought."
It is a nice thought, but Harry knows that that's all it'll ever be.
Epilogue — Fourteen Years after the Second War's end
Harry can see Draco on the platform with his wife and son, still as aristocratic-looking as ever, perfectly cool and composed. Their eyes meet, and in that instant Harry can feel all of the near misses and almost connections that have always been there between them. They could have had something, maybe. Probably. If they'd only had the courage to reach for it.
He gives Draco a bittersweet smile, and the blonde nods in return. Then the Hogwarts Express pulls away, Ginny laces their fingers together, and they go home.