Intro: This takes place roughly two years following Deathly Hallows. Harry and Ginny have been married for about a year. Just to clarify.
Disclaimer: Naw, I don't own Harry or Draco or Ginny, sexy though they may be. Sadly, I did not come up with anything having to do with the Harry Potter series, books or films. I leave that to the experts. JK Rowling, the the respectable, though they be many, directors of the the movies.
Until When
Harry hurried down the stairs from the upstairs bedroom, an abnormal rush in is step as he skipped the last two and hopped down to the floor. The vase on the table in front of the stairwell shivered and shook at his weight. He paused to make sure it didn't fall before he grabbed his lanyard with his house keys on and stuck it in the pocket of his old jeans. Worn though they were, they were the most comfortable pair of pants he owned.
He grabbed his cloak off of the coat tree and flung it around him, covering his black jumper, and fastening it in the front with the small silver clasp he'd put on it himself. His wand was stuck firmly in his pocket, tip up, and he had to uncatch his cloak from it, letting the long fabric fall around his feet. He glanced briefly at the clock on the wall. Eight o'clock already, he feared he'd be late.
"Harry?" came a voice from the stairs. Harry started, turning on his heel to look over. Ginny was leaned around the wall, her red hair a mess, her skinny frame looking even more so underneath one of Harry's t-shirts that just covered blue lacy underwear. Harry smiled.
"G'morning, Gin," he said quietly, noting that she had probably been awoken by his racket. She glanced around, before scanning him a little more closely with wider opened eyes. Her eyebrow cocked.
"Are you leaving me?" she asked, a hint of playfulness in her voice. Harry laughed modestly before moving towards her to peck her on the forehead.
"No," he chuckled, shuffling his cloak around as he lifted his messenger bag over his chest and rested it on his hip. Ginny eyed it.
"Then wha' are you up to?" she asked persistently. Harry sighed a little.
"Don't you remember? I told you. My friend's coming in this morning, I'm going to meet him," Harry answered for about the twentieth time this week. Ginny was getting more scatterbrained than Neville these days.
"Oh that's right," she said, nodding her head in realization. She sighed and reached up to stroke his cheek slightly. "I'll see you tonight then?" she asked. Harry smiled and gave a nod.
"Right," he said. "Bye."
He watched her head back upstairs before going to the door and to the outside step. He took a deep breath, pulled his wand out of his jeans, gave a glance around and with a loud pop! he disapparated, and apparated to King's Cross where he was expecting his friend any moment.
Traveling by Muggle train had become unfamiliar to him over time. After he had turned seventeen and could apparate as he pleased, he hadn't seen fit to ride the trains anymore. But King's Cross was a perfect meeting place. Plus it was easy to apparate, considering people didn't notice if someone who wasn't there before stepped from behind a pillar. They were too busy with their trolleys and their children and their luggage and their lovers…
Harry moved through the thong of people, liberally using "excuse me" and "pardon me" as he pushed through a particularly nasty knot of fighting relatives, bickering about whether Jonny should hit the train West or if Mary-Lou ought to go with Uncle Butch or Aunt Daisy.
He got through to the other side, glancing around. Some Muggles were looking funnily in his direction, noting his cloak. But no one seemed to dwell on it long, as they were all used to strangely dressed youths in the station these days. Harry slinked by a couple bidding each other farewell, and he stopped next to the column between platforms nine and ten. He had agreed to meet his friend here, as they both knew exactly where it was, and it wouldn't be hard to spot a cloaked person next to the entrance to the Wizarding train to Hogwarts.
Luckily, school had begun a few days previously, so Harry got to miss the general chaos of young witches and wizards and their parents heading for the platform.
Harry checked his watch religiously for the next ten minutes, wondering what was keeping the other man. They had agreed on eight thirty, and it was already twenty till. Harry glanced around nervously, his stomach doing a funny turn in his body at the slightest possibly glimpse of a deep green cloak. But every jump was a disappointment, and he looked back at his watch.
By the time it was nine, Harry was a little past nervous, and was getting a little worried. However, at five after, he had to worry no longer. The tell tale popping sound of someone apparating into the station was slightly covered by the whistle of a train. But Harry heard it. He was trained to hear it, and wouldn't miss it for the world. He gave an anxious glance around, but still saw only Muggles. Harry moved around the column leaning on the side away from the train.
"Guess who," came a drawling voice suddenly from behind him. Harry started slightly, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable leap as he turned to see a pale, blonde figure leaning against the column to his side. The experience hardened grey eyes turned over to Harry and a thin smile split the solemn expression usually worn by the pointed face.
In all his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never seen Draco change much. He was always pointed, with white blonde hair, and grey, steely eyes. Yet, Harry had never thought he'd seen a more mature looking Draco before in his life. There was no sneer etched into his upper lip—which was a wonder, considering Harry had one time thought that it might be permanently stuck that way—and his hair, that used to be slicked, perfect, like a vain teenager, was now longer, slightly messy, a little windblown, but very grown up. His eyes, though still those Slytherin eyes, were soft in the center, had thawed since high school.
Harry turned and walked around to face the taller man, who was wearing a pair of smart sliver rimmed glasses, making him look very sharp and professional, along with a black suit, dress shirt and tie, underneath pin green robes fastened by a little silver snake at the hollow of his throat. Though his hair was a little untidy, he still beat Harry in the put together department, as Harry still couldn't quite fit into any clothes he owned.
"How was your trip?" Harry asked, blinking at the man from under his own round glasses. Sadly, he hadn't had the gumption to update them since high school. Draco tilted his head to the side and let out a put upon sigh, stepping away from the column and beginning down the platform, Harry falling into step next to him.
"Boring," he answered distastefully. Harry smiled.
"That bad, eh?" he asked. Draco gave a liquid shrug, one white, long, delicate hand moving from underneath his cloak to fiddle absentmindedly with a lock of white gold hair.
"I've ridden better," he answered simply. As a high juror for the Wizengamot, Draco had grown used to being vague with his answers, and Harry had grown used to picking around them to get the information he was looking for.
"Well, I thought we'd lost you," Harry said playfully, waving towards one of the wall clocks in the platform. Draco's eyes moved to see the time and a smiled flickered at the corner of his mouth.
"You almost did over Manchester," he said shortly, his cloak waving a little, indicating his hand was making a motion of description. Harry didn't say anything. "My broom almost gave out halfway through."
"You came by broom?" Harry asked, goggling over at him. Draco looked over and this time a little smile did grace his thin lips.
"I flew from Glasgow to Birmingham on broom. And then apparated from there," he expounded. Harry shook his head.
"Why not just apparated from Glasgow to King's Cross?" he asked, grabbing the door into the main station and pushing it open for Draco, who gave a curt little nod and glided through. Harry left behind him onto the more quiet street, though London streets were never really quiet.
"I had things to do on the way from Glasgow, and I didn't know exact locations. I would rather sacrifice my pelvis than splice off an arm or leg in the process of trying to figure out where I was going," Draco said, his voice sounding amused. Harry nodded, looking ahead of him again.
"Where—"
"I left the broom in Birmingham," Draco answered before Harry could get the question out of his mouth. Harry smiled, his heart warming a little, and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered uncomfortably again.
"You've somewhere to stay, then?" Harry asked anxiously. Draco looked over his eyes slightly curious.
"Yes. I've a flat here in London, I thought I told you that?" he said, sounding a little annoyed. Harry furrowed his brow.
"No. You didn't," he said flatly. Draco gave another liquid shrug.
"Well, now I have," he answered, his tone again light an airy.
The continued down the street quietly, the awkward silence only broken by occasional car horns and shouts from the street. Harry glanced over at Draco who seemed not even notice he wasn't walking alone. Harry gave a sigh.
"Well, I suppose you can apparate from any of these alleys," he said, the butterflies turning quickly to ice blocks. Draco didn't stop moving.
"Let's walk there," he answered. "It's a nice enough day." Harry raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Draco didn't do anything Muggle unless there was a direct purpose. But he just gave a little shrug and they continued across a slightly crowed street.
"How's little Ginny?" Draco asked, glancing left and right as they crossed another street. Harry's stomach twisted into knots of annoyance that Draco would bring her up while they were together. He thought they had had an agreement…
"Fine," he answered shortly. Draco glanced over, but didn't call him out on his tone, only continued on in silence. Harry watched his feet as they walked, listening to the swishing of their robes around their feet.
"She's still working for the ministry, then?" Draco asked. Harry looked up and over, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He gave another sigh.
"Yes, the Department of Magical Games and Sports," Harry said. Draco nodded.
"And you work with her?" he asked.
"No, I work in the Auror's department, we really don't see much of each other during the day," he said, hoping that talking about his own job might get Draco off the subject. But Draco persisted.
"So, you only get to speak at night, then?" he questioned, his eyes never leaving the street in front of them. Harry licked his lips and calmed his mounting annoyance.
"Yes, usually, if she hasn't gone to bed before I get home," he said.
"Oh. So you work late a lot?" Draco questioned, nodding a little.
"Sometimes," Harry murmured.
"I suppose she doesn't like that much, does she?"
"I've never asked."
"You oughtn't to work late on her, so often. I'm sure she likes to—"
"Draco," Harry said firmly. The blonde looked over finally, his eyebrows arched elegantly on his face. His expression was questioning, but his mouth was trying hard not to smile. Draco paused in walking, and Harry turned to face him.
"Draco, I thought I told you—"
"Oh, Potter, don't be so touchy. We made that deal months ago," Draco said, laughing finally, his fluttering voice lifted lightly. It made Harry stomach turn over with butterflies. But he scowled.
"Yes, but it's still important to me," he answered. Draco's smiled faded.
"Is it?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned. They stood there watching each other for a long moment before Draco turned and glanced at the building behind them. He turned resolutely away from Harry and mounted the steps, fishing a key from somewhere underneath his robes, unlocking the door. He pulled the glass door open and stood aside, looking down at Harry. He pointed into the lobby of the apartment building.
"In," he demanded in an unfriendly voice. Harry was startled into obeying. He walked up the steps and passed Draco, going into the lobby. It was large and upscale, with golden trimmings and marble floors. The desk to his right concealed the bottom half of a well dressed man, who smiled at them as they entered. Harry heard the door shut behind him, but before he could look back, Draco was sweeping past him and towards the lifts.
"Mister Malfoy, welcome back," said the man behind the desk. Draco waved his hand briskly as he went to the lifts. He didn't press the button, they simply opened in front of him. The man behind the counter didn't seem to notice. Draco went inside and turned to face the doors, where he seemed to notice Harry hadn't followed him. The doors began to close in front of him, but a slash of his hand stopped them and he looked expectantly at Harry.
"Well?" he asked. Harry glanced over at the man behind the counter who smiled serenely before he walked over and joined Draco in the lifts. Draco dropped his hand and the golden doors shut in front of them and began upwards, climbing the floors slowly. Harry looked over at Draco curiously, waiting for the blonde man to tell him what was going on. But Draco just looked ahead of himself at the doors. Harry didn't ask.
The doors slid open on the fifteenth floor, and Draco walked briskly out, Harry striding along behind him. Draco had always had longer legs than Harry, so they carried him to the suite at the end of the hall before Harry, who was observing the hallway slowly anyway. Harry looked down at the doorhandle as Draco unlocked it with another key he produced from somewhere underneath his robes. The lock clunked unpleasantly, and Draco laid his hand flat on the door and pushed it in and completely open. Harry peered into the dark apartment for a long moment, trying to make things out. But the window treatments were shut up tight, and no sunlight was going inside. He squinted slightly, making out a couch, a table and something in the corner, but little else.
"Are you going to go in or not, Potter?" Draco asked, his voice impatient.
"Not if you call me that," Harry said snottily, turning around away from him to look down the hall. He moved inside the apartment, glancing around for a moment. He heard the door thud shut behind him, then the tell tale whooshing of a wand through the air. The lamps in the room lit with magical light and the apartment was lit up cheerily. Harry looked around. It was a nice place, with white carpet and white leather furniture. A mirror hung on the wall next to a wall sized window, and a silver snake held it in place. Harry couldn't help but smile. Draco was a Slytherin till the end. Harry glanced back at Draco, who was pulling off his cloak and hanging it over a peg on the wall.
"Why don't you just open the curtains?" Harry asked, slipping his wand from his pocket and waving it casually. The curtains opened slowly and the bright, white morning sunlight spilled throughout the room. The apartment was washed in white. White furniture, white carpet. Only black accents here and there. Black vases, black, but empty, picture frames hanging on the wall in an artistic fashion. Draco squinted a little in the sudden light as his eyes had probably gotten used to the dark as Harry's had.
"Thank you," he said quietly, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it over top his cloak. Harry nodded and sheathed his wand inside his pocket. Harry watched as Draco laid his wand on the table next to the door before turning to look back at Harry. "So," he said with an air of finality. Harry glanced around.
"So?" he asked. Draco sighed and leaned against the door slightly, crossing his arm over his chest. He jerked his head a little to get hair out of his eyes, then wet his lips.
"You do know you can't pretend you aren't married to Ginny, I assume?" he asked abruptly. Harry blinked before shifting uncomfortably.
"I'm not pretending," he said in his defense. Draco smiled and leaned off the door, coming over to where Harry was. He reached up and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Aren't you?" he asked. Harry glanced down at the man's long, delicate hand and his stomach flopped over uncomfortably. Harry nodded resolutely. Draco smiled a little. "Look. You asked me almost a year ago not to talk about Ginny when we were together. I honored that, because I'm honorable."
"That's debatable," Harry muttered playfully. Draco eyed him but didn't call him out. Instead he slid his hand down Harry's arm to grasp his upper arm firmly, but not painfully.
"But, I can't be with you and pretend that you aren't having an affair," Draco said, speaking like he was describing the weather. Harry flinched a little. He had hoped they could avoid using the word "affair", even though he knew full well what it was.
"Draco…" Harry muttered as the man's grip tightened a little on Harry's arm. Draco didn't give him time to speak or protest.
"Don't mistake my concern for remorse," he said, his voice taking on a correcting tone. "Ginny's feelings are neither here nor there to me. She isn't the important one. But I would rather keep out of the sticky mess if push comes to shove, and she finds out."
Draco's grip had gotten considerably tighter on Harry's upper arm. It was starting to twinge a little. Harry watched him closely before scowling.
"I know, Draco," he said resentfully. "You never did like to stick your neck out past yourself." Draco's hand seized harder on Harry's arm, and it took all his willpower not to show the increasing pain on his face.
"Don't patronize me, Potter," Draco said, his voice dangerous. Harry flinched at the pain in his arm. Draco didn't seem to notice. "What I mean, is, Ginny isn't important to me. Nor is your relationship with her. What matters to me is that nothing compromises my relationship with you."
His grip was like a vice now, cutting off the blood circulation to Harry's fingers. His arm was burning with the pain where the man's delicate, but strong, fingers were digging into Harry's skin and muscle. He grunted slightly, his other hand coming up to pull at the man's fingers. His face twisted in pain.
"Draco. Draco. Draco! You're hurting me," he said firmly, loudly, snapping Draco out of whatever he was in. His hand released Harry's arm as quickly as it had locked around it. Draco took a deep breath, dropping his hand and straightening his shirt, setting his jaw like he was controlling himself. Harry rubbed at the slowly bruising spot on his arm, and wiggling his fingers to get blood flow down into them. He watched Draco for a moment as the taller man breathed deeply, settling himself. For a moment, Harry watched him, rubbing his arm before dropping his hand and straightening up.
"So you want me to leave Ginny," Harry said, more like he was describing the look of the sky than that he was talking about his lover. Draco's eyes flickered with something like happiness but steeled again after a split second.
"I didn't say that," he said. Harry shook his head.
"I know you didn't. You didn't have to," Harry said resolutely. Draco tilted his head a little to watch him, his eyes softening in the middle like they often did when Harry looked at him. Harry watched him closely for a moment before sighing and turning away, looking down at the silver band around his left ring finger. He stared at for a long time, thinking about the wedding.
It had been nice. Small, but nice. Mostly just the Weasleys, Professor McGonagall, Neville, Luna, Hermione of course, considering she had been dating Ron at the time, Draco had lingered for the ceremony, but briskly left before the reception. Harry had carried a picture of Sirius and Remus in his inside jacket pocket, and a picture of his mother and father behind them, next to his heart. Ginny had looked lovely. In a straight white dress, blue butterflies had lit in her hair, that was curled around her face. She had shone. Happiness had been like a big bubble around that tent. People clapping Harry on the back, and urging he and Ginny to dance.
But the more Harry thought about it, the less Harry could remember about actually exchanging vows, saying "I do", or whether or not he was nervous or happy. It was like a memory he had chosen to selectively remember. He could remember everyone else's happiness, but not his own. He could see everyone else's smile in his mind's eye, but he couldn't remember feeling his own. It was like trying to catch smoke.
A sudden warmth on Harry's hand broke him from his reverie. He looked down and saw a white, long, elegant hand covering his own, hiding the wedding band from view. After a moment, the fingers curled around the ring and slid it effortlessly off Harry's hand. Harry watched the hand move to the table next to the door and lay the ring on it. His brow was furrowed as to long arms stretched around him and wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close to a tall, slender, and frighteningly alive body. He glanced back, seeing Draco's face very close to his.
"I'm not telling you to leave her, Harry Potter," Draco whispered into Harry's ear. Harry leaned his head to the side, pressing his cheek against Draco's, sighing out a shuddering breath. It had been nearly four months since he'd felt Draco this close. It was like a great weight had been lifted off of his chest. Draco's mouth grazed Harry's temple. "I'm just telling you, that I would do anything not to lose you."
"You were singing a different song before you left," Harry muttered, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back on the man's thin shoulder. Draco chuckled, his voice reverberating through Harry's body, diffusing soft warmth across him.
"I was angry with you," Draco said. Harry smiled, leaning forward and turning around in Draco's arms. He looked at the man for a long moment before sighing out heavily. He shook his head, and backed away a little causing Draco to drop his arms down to his side. Harry wet his lips.
"I love Ginny. You know that Draco," Harry said, his voice soft. Draco sighed and nodded, shifting uncomfortably. He never had liked being rejected.
"Do you?" he asked mildly. Harry sighed.
"Yes."
"Then why tease me!" Draco exclaimed, his voice loud and sharp and angry. Harry jumped backwards slightly, startled. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. Draco snorted and turned around walking back through the apartment disappearing into a room at the end of the hallway. Harry heard things banging around, a door opening and shutting. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and tossed it on the table, pulling off his cloak and laying it over the back of the couch.
Harry made his way slowly down the hall towards the door Draco had disappeared into. He grabbed the doorframe and then moved into the doorway, leaning on the frame. Draco stood inside, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. He was slowly unbuttoning the other buttons. His belt had been pulled off and was laying on the floor next to his shoeless feet. Harry watched him for a moment as the blonde's beautiful hands faltered on the buttons and then stopped.
"Why do you write me letters, tantalizing letters of love and missing and when you face me you tell me you don't love me?" Draco asked, his voice calm and collected again. Harry swallowed, guilt lumping in his throat. He looked down at the floor for a moment, only now noticing that in this bedroom there was no carpet, only big, grey, stone tile. After a moment, he looked back up at Draco.
"But I do love you," he said firmly. "I do. But I love Ginny too. Can't you love two people at once?" Harry asked desperately. Draco glanced over his shoulder at Harry. His hands were slack on the remaining buttons of his shirt.
"Never," he answered, his voice incredulous. Harry shook his head and walked into the room. Moving behind Draco, he wrapped his arms around the man's chest, laying his cheek against his shoulder, listening to his breathing. For a moment they stood like this, Draco looking at the ceiling, Harry holding him close, pressing his chest against the taller man's back. Finally, Harry slid his hands down Draco's chest and slowly began to undue the remaining buttons. There were only a few and when he finished, he slipped the satin shirt off of Draco's shoulders, letting it rustle serenely to the floor. It left a wide expanse of barely marked white skin, creamy and perfect, muscular, taught in the act of standing up. Harry leaned forward and kissed one of the jutting shoulder blades.
"I love you, Draco. And I love Ginny. But I love you both for completely different reasons," Harry said quietly into Draco's shoulder. He sighed against the warm, smooth skin. "She's been one of my best friends since second year. I only fell in love with you after the Battle…" Harry murmured. He felt Draco's muscles tighten slightly at the mention of the battle. But when Harry kissed his shoulder again, they slowly relaxed under his touch. "She's everything to me," Harry continued. He leaned back and put his hands on Draco's shoulders, turning him slowly around and looking him in the eyes, green meeting grey in a kind of unspoken union. "But so are you."
"How—"
"Don't ask me to explain it," Harry stopped him. He shook his head. "I can't. I just know that she's important to me. She's someone I take care of, I talk to, I comfort, someone I keep safe. Someone I hold when she's scared. She's someone I protect…" he paused a moment, watching Draco closely. "But you're important to me just as much. You protect me. I feel safe with you, I feel like I don't have to take the lead for the first time in twenty one years. Spending seven years trying to protect the entire wizarding world makes being protected feel like a novelty. I can talk to you, you comfort me, you hold me when I've no one else to go to. You're my safe place…" he paused again, then shook his head in frustration. "It isn't something I can explain, Draco."
Harry looked back at the man, running his hands up Draco's shoulders, and wrapping them gently around his neck and jaw. He watched him for a long moment, thinking of the ways he could have expressed his feelings that were better than how he had. He was sure Draco wouldn't let him forget his clumsiness with words anytime soon. But looking at him, he seemed to understand. His eyes were soft and shone with a fondness Draco often reserved for Harry, and Harry alone. It made him feel special, when Draco looked at him that way.
"It doesn't make sense, Potter," Draco murmured, reaching up and moving a little messy black hair out of Harry's face to trace the lightening bolt scar on his head. He dropped his hand to slowly cup Harry's cheek and jaw. "And I'll never understand. I know that…" he paused. "But. If it's what you need…I suppose I can learn to live with it…" he said.
He had kissed Harry before another breath was taken, and he stole the one Harry was about to breathe in. His mouth felt like liquid silk against Harry's, long and soft and warm and wet. His tongue pushed inside Harry's mouth in a slightly domineering way, Draco could never be out of control. But Harry didn't mind, in fact, he liked having someone taking the lead once in awhile. He tasted bittersweet, of coffee and chocolate. It reminded him of the morning of his wedding, when he had stolen kisses from Draco in the car on their way to the Burrow. It sent shivers of pleasure through his spine, down his body and back up again, diffusing sweet heat across his face.
There were things Draco was not. Tactful, humble, giving. But there were some things Draco could never get wrong. He was an amazing kisser. Harry had to admit, he was better than either Ginny or Fred—the memory of making out with the redheaded firecracker in the shed at the Burrow still made Harry blush—and Cho didn't have anything on any three of them. Draco was also an amazing lover. Of course, like everyone, Draco had his moods. There were days he wanted to screw all night and not stop until the sun was high in the sky. Then there were days he didn't feel like it at all.
But it was days like these, when he kissed him with all the sweetness a Slytherin could muster that were the best; the days he would make love to Harry for hours, suspending him in perfect agony, whisper love and trust into his ear, until Harry was completely lost in seamless bliss, and fell asleep in Draco's arms. Those were the most euphoric. These days were the days Draco showed Harry how much he truly cared about him, how much he loved him.
When Draco leaned away from Harry it was probably to take a breath. But Harry's mouth cried out at the loss and his brow furrowed a little over his closed eyes. He slowly slid his lids open and looked at Draco who was watching him with the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
It was late when Harry returned to his flat. He had almost spent the night at Draco's house, and told Ginny they had gotten talking and he was just getting in. But Harry was not a good liar, so he left Draco's house sometime around ten, disapparating from the alley next to the tall apartment building and on his front step.
The lamps were lit when he went inside, glowing by magic light, spreading a cheery light through the cozy apartment, which was a right turn more homey than Draco's temporary housing.
He could hear Ginny in the kitchen, humming over dinner, which they always had late. She must not have heard him come in, because as Harry leaned on the doorframe of the kitchen, and she turned around, she jumped and squeaked, startled by seeing him there.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, laughing and pressing her palm to her chest and taking deep breaths as she laughed and walked over to him. She stood on her toes and gave him a peck on the lips. "I didn't even hear you come in."
"Figured you didn't," he said through a smile, shedding his cloak and hanging it up. He turned back around to her and smiled at her. Her red hair was pushed messily back in a bun, her pink t-shirt loose on her skinny frame, and her white shorts riding slightly low on her hips. She still looked like a school girl.
"So?" she asked, turning back towards where she was cooking. Harry came into the cheery kitchen and glanced at the knives chopping potatoes on the counter next to her. "Did you and Draco have a good chat?" she finished. Harry looked at her for a moment, leaning on the counter beside her and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yeah," he answered.
"What's he up to these days?" she asked. Then she shrugged. "Not that I care, he's always so cold when I see him." Harry smiled.
"He's alright. Just come back from a meeting in Wales, staying at a flat in London," Harry explained, reaching over to tuck some red hair behind Ginny's freckly ear. She grinned.
"Well, good. At least he's doing something worthwhile, unlike that father of his," Ginny said, giving a snort of good riddance. Harry nodded.
"He's moving to Newcastle upon Tyne in a month or so. Sticking around London for awhile until he does," Harry continued, watching Ginny cook. She nodded interestedly, popping a raw potato in her mouth and offering one to Harry. "No thanks."
"Did he hook himself a Welsh girl?" she asked. Harry grinned.
"Naw. Welsh girls aren't good enough for him," he said, leaning off the counter and heading for the door.
"No one's good enough for him!" Ginny exclaimed in a laugh, chewing her potato. Harry paused at the door.
"I'm heading to the shower. I'll be down in ten minutes," he said. Ginny looked over her shoulder and smiled, nodding.
"Just in time for supper, dear," she said, infinite sweetness and love in her voice. She tossed him a kiss before turning back to her work.
Harry lingered for only a few seconds more, before turning out of the kitchen and hopping up the stairs. He turned down the hall and went into the bathroom, passing their bedroom on the way, grabbing his towel from the door handle.
He pushed the door to and pulled off his shirt, looking at himself in the mirror. There was a small ring bruise on his right arm, from where Draco had grabbed him so hard earlier in the day. It would be cleared up in a day or two. Harry unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them and his boxers in the hamper next to the commode as he turned the shower on full blast.
The water was hot and soothing, running over his skin like a purifying waterfall. He stood in the stream for a long time before he realized he hadn't taken his glasses off. He fumbled them off his face and leaned out of the shower to place them on the sink, pulling the shower curtain back across and smiling to himself as he grabbed shampoo.
Harry didn't approve of his own lifestyle. And one day, he knew he would be able to choose Ginny or Draco. But he knew that as long as his love for them never faltered, he would be stuck between choosing the person he could always protect, or the person who could always protect him. Harry didn't want to choose. He couldn't choose. Not now, not tomorrow, next week, next year. He might be fifty before he could decide what was better for him, for Draco…for Ginny. Until then, he'd have to live in a lie.
Harry watched the shampoo drizzle into his hand. He lathered it up, and worked it into his head.