Title: Hold Me Now

Author: I_nv_u50

Pairings: Draco/Harry

Story Rating: PG13 for mildly sexual implications… of course, it depends how dirty your mind is =P

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the song Hold Me Now belongs to the Thompson Twins. Good song. Go listen to it ^^ Its on the soundtrack for 'The Wedding Singer' . Yes, I was in a chickflik mood the other day  =P

Author's Notes: I was in a foul mood when I wrote this, but I needed something to cheer me up, so this is it ^^;; Hope you enjoy it ^^ …. Well, the ending anyway .  Anyway, It's a fluffy fluffy angsty angst. Did that make sense? I'm in a weird mood. Anyway, it's my mother's birthday today!! ^^

ANnnddd. I wanted to write a Christmas story for Harry and Draco O.o; This was going to be it, but it isn't, so don't worry, I'll have a real mushy fluffy Christmas story for you by December 20… someone remind me of that deadline? O.o; Anyway, I hope you like this, and I warn you once again that I don't really write angst well. But I tried. I inserted my own evil mood into it. The problem is, I was cheering up by the time Draco got to America O.o;

Anyway, this may or may not get redone, we'll see. Anyway, please review!!

Looking back, all Harry could really remember from that dreadful morning, was a lot of tears, cried by both him, openly; and Draco, who tried to hide his own.

It had been a draining evening the night before, with parties, and celebrations, and all sorts of parties to go to for Draco's birthday party.

Neither of them remembered what happened, but a small quarrel between them had grown into a huge fight, that had ended with Draco storming out with, of all people, Millicent Bulstrode, who had looked like drunken, giggling girl who couldn't hold her liquor. The one fact wrong was that she could hold her liquor, very well actually, after multiple years of drinking it.

That had been in October.

It was now early December, and Harry and Draco were still not talking to each other.

Harry had arrived early the morning after to find Draco in the nude relaxing beside the pool while Millicent, Millicent happily rubbed sunscreen into his back. Draco had leapt up upon seeing him staring at them, giving the foul slytherin girl an eyeful, and Harry had stormed inside to pack his bags, ignoring Draco's shouts to let him explain.

Eventually though, Draco had stopped begging and just started arguing back until they were both shouting at each other, and both were crying. Millicent watched eagerly from one of the windows. They paid no attention to her.

Later, Harry wished that he had. He really should have known that a fight between the famous and adorable couple Malfoy/Potter would have been great news for all the nosy reporters, and that Millicent was by no means discreet enough or honourable enough to keep the juicy news to herself.

It had caused an uproar. Malfoy and Potter splitting up?

It was unheard of. It was unthinkable. It was an indescribable catastrophe. It was completely and utterly true.

Harry had only stayed long enough to pick up a few belongings after Draco told him, in a voice that wavered only slightly, that he never wanted to see him again.

Only later, when he was unpacking those possessions into a spare room at Ron and Hermione's house, did he realize that he had unthinkingly thrown in a small photograph, of Draco and him from their seventh year, at the graduation ball. Draco had asked him on a dare, and Harry had agreed, both agreeing sullenly with each other that it might be a good last prank to play on everyone before they left Hogwarts for good. They had been happy, and looking completely in love when the picture had been taken, neither of them realizing that the emotion had actually been real. When the carriages had come at the end of the year, both had realized that the prank had gotten too complicated and… well, nice for them to even want to stop. They had tentatively settled on an agreement.

From that agreement had sprung up one of the wizarding world's most beloved couples. Draco was still a prat, and Harry was still a git, but they had loved each other for three years.

~I have a picture pinned to my wall
an image of you and of me and we're laughing
with love at it all

But look at our life now, we're tattered and torn
We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears
that we cry until dawn~

Harry lay quietly on his back, facing the high, almost cracking ceiling. His green eyes were hard and sharp, and there was only a tiny scrap of the Harry Ron had known in Hogwarts when Ron walked in, smiling softly in greeting.

"Hey Harry, you coming? Herm's got an early Christmas party."

"Bah. Humbug." Harry muttered, giving a small grin in answer to Ron's own. "No thanks, Ron."

"Malfoy won't be there, you know. It's from one of Herm's muggle friends."

"I don't care."

"Harry, come on. You have to get over it sometime. The best way is to go out and have fun, and forget him."

"I've tried!" Harry's voice cracked, they both ignored it. "You know I have! I did nothing but party the whole of November. And look where it got me!"

"On a whole lot of front pages…"

"Yea…" Harry sat up slowly and took off his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"On the other hand though, Malfoy doesn't seem to be doing too well either. He hasn't been seen since that first photo of you and… what was her name?"

"I don't know. Good. I'm glad. He deserves it."

"Harry, you're miserable. Just go and talk to him! God knows I haven't got the fondest of feelings for him, but he made you happy!"

"No he didn't."

"Harry…" Ron sighed, and stood up. "Well, whatever. If you want to come, we're leaving in about two hours."

"Two hours?"

"Yea. Oh come on Harry, just come to the damn party!"

"Maybe." And that was all the reply Harry was willing to give.

It was terribly lonely, without having someone to love, Harry realized. He could still remember an incident in seventh year, when he had been talking to Ron. He hadn't understood then.

"I wish I was ignored sometimes Ron. It's horrible, being famous. I know you don't think that, but it really is."

"You don't, Harry. Being famous might be horrible, but being ignored all the time is even worse. You want so badly to be seen and heard, but no one listens or looks. It's not a nice thing for anyone, Harry."

Harry stared at Ron, his eyes wide. "Have I been ignoring you? I'm so sorry Ron!"

Ron gave a small chuckle. "Nah, it's ok. It wasn't you. It's just a whole bunch of people, ya know? Anyway," Ron continued, plainly not wanting to talk about it, "the point I'm trying to get at, Harry, is that being ignored is something I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy."

Harry sighed, and rolled over. He understood now. He was happy that Ron and "Mione had finally gotten together, and Ron wasn't lonely anymore, but he finally understood. It was too late now though.

~Hold me now
Warm my heart
Stay with me
Let lovin' start, let lovin' start~

~Draco's arms were strong and warm and safe, his hair was silky smooth, and he was laughing at something Harry had said. His gray eyes were alight with his laughter, and his rich voice was echoing in the big entrance of the house Draco had just bought for them. For them. Together, they were meant to be together, stay together, live together forever. That had been a clause on the contract when Draco had jokingly signed the rent papers over to Harry. And Harry had happily agreed, flying happy and free on the wings of the warmth inside of him. His feet never touched the ground as they stumbled up the stairs together, almost giggling into the kiss as the accidentally stepped on Draco's new kitten's tail in their haste to get to the most important room of the house: The Bedroom.~

It was too bad it had to end. They had lived so happily in their perfect world together. The quarrels and small bickerings never got beyond a few heated insults, but they made up with fervour after every 'argument', agreeing that as fun as their fights had been, the making up was the best part.

It had often gotten them kicked out of houses they were guests in when Draco had purposely started small arguments over trivial things, like which jam Harry liked on his morning toast.  That particular making up had had a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet: Potter doesn't just like toast with his jam!

It had been a prize picture for them, and they had a good many laughs over it when they stuck it into a scrapbook, with both photo selves winking and licking their lips before involving themselves in a steamy kiss.

Harry giggled slightly at the memory, it had been a good one. There had been many good ones. And because he hadn't given Draco a chance to explain when Draco had asked for it, he was stuck in a guest room in his best friend's house, alone and ignored by the one person he treasured above all others.

~You say I'm a dreamer, we're two of a kind
Both of us searching for some perfect world we know we'll never find~

Draco stared out of the window as the plane slowly leveled off in the air. He hated traveling by muggle means. But with his broomstick in the house he had refused to go near, it was a little hard getting it out. It had been specially made for him and Harry, a matching set, like they had been.

He scowled at nothing in particular, and the stewardess wheeling the food cart past him took one look at his face and decided to come back later.

Draco had been sick of his house. Every room in it held some delightful, if not delicious memory of Harry. Even the gazebo had at least two!

In fact, Draco hated all of London now. What with them and their gossip, and beloved little Potter's escapades all over the front page. Granted, there hadn't been any since the twentieth of November, but still. Maybe his bloody little mudblood friend had found a way to catch the reporter, maybe something similar to what they had done to Rita Skeeter in the fourth year.

Draco sighed angrily and buried his face in the palm of one hand. His eyes were itching again. Potter must have given it to him. He'd never been sick a day of his life before Potter had walked out. He would have to remember to see a doctor about what cures they had for itchiness and uncommon wetness around the eyes.

Draco sighed again and lifted his head from his hand to stare at the balding head in front of him.

He briefly wondered what America was like. Lucius hadn't liked America much, he had said they were crude and impolite. Rude. Narcissa hadn't said much of anything.

Draco wondered what he would do when he got there. Maybe go for a quick whirlwind tour of the country. He wondered if they had good service. He wondered what they did for fun. He wondered if Harry would have liked to go as well.

~ So perhaps I should leave here, yeah yeah, go far away
But you know that there's nowhere that I'd rather be
than with you here today~

Draco woke, startled and sweating to find a stewardess politely leaning over him.

"Sir, you need to buckle up now. The plane is preparing to land."

Draco nodded curtly, a habitual frown settling over his features. It rarely left lately.

The plane landed without incident, something he was usually ungrateful for. The prat beside him (he unaccountably reminded Draco of Goyle) had kept talking about how unstable airplanes were in the air. Draco had known he wasn't correct, of course, but he was still a little grateful that he would never have to see the stupid git again.

Draco was determined to fly first class next time he flew.

Which, hopefully, would be never. He would get a new broomstick here, and learn all the places so he would be able to apparate easily, and he would never have to see anything that would remind him of Bloody Potter ever again. Bloody Damned Potter.

It happened while he was walking past one of the many shops in one of the biggest cities, New York. He had been greeted by the mayor of New York Wizards, and had declined the offer of a guide, only asking for the nearest wizarding markets.

He had found it in Weezer Way, a relatively new shopping center that was nevertheless interesting. Draco had never seen half of the stuff before.

He caught himself idly wondering if Harry would like this or that, or knowing what he'd like to do with (or to) Harry with this or that.

After about the fiftieth time, he sank down onto a nearby bench in defeat and angrily asked himself what he thought he was doing.

He had expected himself to answer with something like: 'Torturing you', or 'Planning an evil, complicated death for Bloody Damned Potter', or even 'Sod off' would have made him happy.

The answers he got though, made him literally disown himself: 'Missing Harry', 'Wishing Harry were here', and, possibly the most outrageous, 'Wanting to hug Harry'.

What the hell had happened to Bloody Damned Potter?

~ Hold me now
Warm my heart
Stay with me
Let lovin' start, let lovin' start~

It was settled. Draco was flying back home to London, in a first class seat, with champagne bubbling through his head, and a crazy, only half formed plan in his head.

He had, after multiple attempts to really leave himself behind at Weezer Way, bought a few things (some for Harry) and had made a wild, rushed phone call to Hermione Weasley.

It was set. Draco Malfoy was finally going home. Back to where he belonged, in both respects.

~ Hold me now
Warm my heart
Stay with me
Let lovin' start, let lovin' start~

Harry was only being dragged along reluctantly. It was December twenty fourth, and Hermione had finally put her foot down.

"Harry Potter! If you do not get out of that bedroom right now I will personally come in there and get you dressed! By any mean's necessary! You will be going tonight, and you are going to be dressed perfectly, and you will be happy about it! It's Christmas Eve for fuck's sake! Forget Malfoy!"

When she had put it like that, Harry really didn't have very much option to refuse. It was like being stuck between a manticore and a basilisk. Which death was easier? Either way, Harry got dressed nicely, in casual jeans and a clean shirt, as it wasn't a formal party.

It was, Hermione had said, just a personal party, for a few close friends. He couldn't help wondering who those friends were.

Neither could he help wondering where Draco was on Christmas Eve, when the snowflakes were falling peacefully and the air outside was quiet, despite all the parties going on inside most houses.

He had gotten over being angry with Draco. Now he just ached. Now he was in almost constant misery, and he missed Draco so much. He wanted to be back with Draco, since Draco was the only one he wanted now. He had tried to replace Draco, really, he had.

But none of the efforts had paid off. They just weren't in the same league as Draco. And neither, it appeared, was he.

They should never have carried the prank into a higher level. They should have known it was too perfect during those three years.

Harry loved Draco, he honestly did, and he wanted Draco to be happy. If that meant seeing Draco with someone else, someone worthy of him, then Harry would be all right. Not content, but he would survive.

~ You ask if I love you, well, what can I say?
You know that I do and that this is just one of those games that we play~

Harry paused outside a dark house that was too quiet to be the center of a party, no matter how few people were invited. He stood under a streetlamp to check the address, then looked back up at the house in resignation.

Maybe it was someone playing a joke on him. But Ron and 'Mione wouldn't do that to him, not in his painful state at the moment. He shrugged and rang the buzzer on the front gate.

It swung open slowly without question, which could only really mean he had been expected. Well, that was all right then. No doubt Ron and 'Mione and the rest of the guest were already inside playing a board game and talking or something.

Harry walked to the front door of the house quickly, wanting inexplicitly to belong somewhere warm, to not be alone anymore. He understood.

The door opened as soon as he reached it, and he couldn't see the house elf, which meant it had been well trained. Hermione would have had a fit. He wondered, fondly caught in the memory of Hermione's indignation, if they were being fairly treated.

There was a light on, filtering through under one of the doors that lead to the main entrance, and he strode quickly over and opened it, expecting to see a small handful of people.

He only saw one. And gods, it hurt so bad, to see that silky, pale blonde hair again, tussled up in a way that had always made Draco look sexier, those cool gray eyes watching him hopefully for something he wasn't sure he could give anymore.

Harry ached. He hurt all over and his chest was constricting painfully, and he was trembling so bad that all he could manage was a strangled, choked noise.

Draco started forward, muted concern barely visible in his eyes, but Harry backed against the wall dizzily, and Draco froze, his eyes flashing anguish before clouding over coolly.

"Hello Harry."

~ So I'll sing you a new song, please don't cry any more
I'll even ask your forgiveness though I don't know just what I'm asking it for~

Harry had backed away, and that had hurt, but then Draco realized that there was pain in Harry's eyes as well, and all that Hermione had said was suddenly backed up, making his forcibly suppressed hope flare up again with double the determination.

"Hello, Granger."

"Yes Malfoy?"

"How's… how's Harry and his girlfriend?"

An incredulous laugh flitted down the line. "Girlfriend? What rubbish are you talking about? Harry doesn't have a girlfriend. He thinks you do!"

"Well, I don't. Can I talk to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You've almost broken him, Malfoy. He doesn't move from his bedroom. It's not even a guest room anymore, it's his bedroom."

"I've… I've broken him?"

"Yes. Don't tell me you didn't know?"

"No. Look, Granger-"

"Weasley."

"Fine. Look, Weasley, I want another chance."

A sniff. "Well, why are you asking me?"

"Because I need your help."

"Really? Why can't you just do it yourself?"

"Because he'll refuse to see me if he has the option, you know that."

"I guess so… All right. But you hurt him again, Malfoy, and I will rip your…"

Draco stepped closer to Harry again. "Listen Harry…"

Harry looked up suddenly and his dark green eyes met Draco. "I want you to know that I'm very happy for whoever you're dating now, and I hope you never forget me. I should probably go, you don't want me here."

And Harry whirled around and started walking out, only to be stopped by a strong grip on his sleeve.

"You always were a stubborn idiot."

"And you were always a snobbish moron." Harry shot back.

Draco was pleased to see the sudden fire in his eyes. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry blinked, obviously caught off guard. "I wasn't expecting that…" he said slowly, after a few minutes. Then he looked up at Draco again sharply. "What are you apologizing for?"

Draco felt himself fall willingly into the depths. "For me. Myself. What I am, what I did, I'm sorry."

~ Oh, oh, hold me now (hold me in your lovin' arms)
Woah, warm my heart (warm my cold and tired heart)
Stay with me (Ooh stay with me)
Let lovin' start, let lovin' start~

Harry felt himself sway. Was it going to be all right again? He had a feeling it was.

He slowly reached out to touch Draco's hand, the one that was still clutching his sleeve. Draco met his eyes carefully.

"Don't apologize for who you are, Draco. Never, ever do that. You're a snobbish twit, who's about as stubborn as I am, and I love you for it."

Harry caught himself before he said any more that might embarrass himself if Draco didn't want him back, but Draco was smiling at him openly.

"I'm glad to hear that, Harry. Because this is all you're going to get. This is all you're ever going to get. It will be all you want, and all you need, and you'll never have to leave ever again."

Harry grinned shyly and stepped a little closer. "Are you willing to prove that statement?"

Draco smirked back and pushed him back against the wall hard, trapping Harry there with his own body. "Make me."

Harry leaned up and kissed Draco hungrily, winding his arms around Draco's waist and back, and fisting them in the cloth there.

~ Oh, oh, hold me now (hold me in your lovin' arms)
Woah, warm my heart (warm my cold and tired heart)
Stay with me (Ooh stay with me)
Let lovin' start, let lovin' start~

Looking back on the night from the next morning, lying cuddled up and buck naked under the silk sheets together, they could both remember it being the best make up they had ever had.

They never wanted another one like it.