Ten Steps

Author’s Note: Shout to MaraSil, whose line from her review of chapter 11 I swiped for this chapter. It was just too funny to discard. *grin Thanks to Kasey and Shannon for their beta work on this chapter and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.

Chapter 18 Bending

Any minute now never came.

It was possible that Harry didn’t give it enough time, but after taking the hangover potion Oliver had left him, showering, and keeping down two slices of whole grain toast, Harry still couldn’t manage to get his heart and mind to agree. Logic dictated that he had one man - a fine man - that wanted to have him and hold him for the rest of his life. Oliver was kind, thoughtful, patient, funny and would make a wonderful husband and father. It seemed ridiculous to even be thinking about letting that go for something completely unknown. But his heart argued that Draco was all of these things as well, but he was more than that too.

Draco made him fly.

Harry shook his head, feeling as gooey as he had the day Draco wrote the words on a scrap of parchment - the day they had gone on something that Harry could no longer deny was a date. If it looked like a date, swam like a date and quacked like a date, well…. It was a date for Harry anyhow, and he was determined to find out once and for all what it had been for Draco. A test? A ploy to get him into bed? Something more, something less? He knew he couldn’t let this go, couldn’t begin to think about his life with Oliver, not until he had closure with Draco.

He got dressed, selecting nicer robes than he normally would have if he were stepping out to see anyone else, and Apparated to Draco’s doorstep. He was done playing games. He wanted his questions answered, he deserved them and he wasn’t going to stop until he had them. He was a famous Auror, he was good looking and clever and charming, he’d battled a Dark Wizard at the age of eleven for Merlin’s sake. He could certainly get answers out of one, perfectly harmless, bloke.

Without any further hesitation, Harry knocked on the door, determination thrumming through his veins, and steeled himself when he heard movement on the other side. The door opened, and all that fortitude fell away from him as if he’d been doused in icy water.

“Mr. Potter?” the man on the other side greeted curiously. Harry recognized him as the man from the bar the night before, which would have been a horrid enough discovery, but that, coupled with the fact that Alston was only wearing a pair of wrinkled boxers made him nearly heave the dry toast he’d had for breakfast all over Draco’s gleaming stoop. “Draco didn’t tell me he was expecting company this morning.”

“He wasn’t,” Harry managed to get out. “I just needed to talk to him.”

Alston looked at him curiously and then his eyes shot wide. “Am I getting in the middle of something here? I thought you were dating Oliver Wood. It’s been all over the papers this week.”

“I am,” Harry confirmed, rather guiltily. “I needed to see him about that, actually.” Alston looked skeptical, and for a moment Harry worried that he was going to run to the press with what he thought he knew, but Harry didn’t care. He couldn’t be there anymore, he couldn’t watch this man, who answered Draco’s door as if he lived there, and think about what they’d likely done the night before. “Can you just tell him I stopped by?” Harry asked, but he didn’t wait for the answer. He just turned and walked away, as swiftly as his legs would carry him, back to the alley.

His heart was cracking down the middle, severing away the part that Draco had stolen without his permission. That half - and if Harry was being honest with himself he’d notice it was well over half –crumbled up like stiff paper and seemed to light on fire while it was still in his chest. Harry could feel the fire singe through him, leaving him hollow and wanting. Even when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t turn around right away. He hardly had the care to bother acknowledging it. It had been a bad idea to come over. It had been foolish to even think about Draco in an amorous way. Harry had known it all along, but he’d been too stubborn to listen to his own advice, and now he was paying the consequences.

“Harry, would you look at me?”

It still took a moment for the words to break through the fog in his mind, but eventually, Harry heard the angel voice of the man he’d been lying to himself about. He turned to face Draco, not even sure what else the man had said that he hadn’t heard. “Harry, what are you doing here?” he asked, looking slightly panicked.

“I-I came to ask…but then there was…him…and,” Harry stammered, unable to get the rest out in his increasingly pained state of mind. He must have looked like a madman, just staring blankly at Draco as if he’d never seen the blond before, completely unable to form coherent sentences.

“You saw Alston,” he said, not so much a question as an observation.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “I did.” Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him off. “He seems nice. Not good enough for you, of course, but nice,” Harry told him, trying to regain some of his footing, searching for the determined man who had fled him when Draco’s door opened.

“Why did you come?” Draco asked, his voice cold and distant. “Did we have an appointment I forgot about?”

“No,” Harry admitted.

“Then what?”

“I wanted to ask…needed to know…but I think I understand now,” Harry sighed. “I was just being daft.”

“How were you being daft?” Draco asked, his voice warming as he took a step closer to Harry, pulling him by the elbow into the alley so they wouldn’t be so easily observed.

“I thought that you liked me,” Harry whispered and once he said the words he didn’t think he could stop. “I’ve felt so close, so connected and I thought that you felt it too, but it seems I was, once again, completely mistaken in my observations. Why is it that I can catch a criminal who left nothing more than a faint magical signature behind, but I can’t understand the motives of someone I lo- care about?”

Harry knew he was ranting, scribbling further proof in the column that deemed him crazy, but he didn’t care. Part of his determination was coming back, only in a more frantic, unwoven way. Draco just stared back at him with wide, unblinking gray eyes, and Harry wanted to shake him, demand that he answer the question he had yet to ask.

“What am I to you, Draco?” Harry hissed at last.

Draco opened his mouth to say a thousand things, but nothing Harry wanted to hear left the blond’s his lips. “You are a very important client,” he said at last, twisting the knife Harry hadn’t realized was still lodged in his chest. “As soon as I’ve accomplished what I promised you, I’ll be moving away, so it’s better not to get too attached.”

“I see,” Harry whispered and turned away from Draco with finality thrumming through his bones. He wasted no time in Apparating from Draco’s side, before the man could witness him shatter to pieces.

“Fuck!” Draco screamed at the top of his lungs, stretching out the word until breath failed him and negating all sense of privacy he’d had in the alleyway. The bags of food he’d been carrying – breakfast for he and Alston – were strewn across the grimy stone floor of the alley, tossed in a fit of frustration he hadn’t been able to control. He didn’t seem to have any control when it came to Harry and that fact was going to drive him straight to St. Mungo’s if he wasn’t careful.

His body shivered with rage and confusion, his teeth clattering from it as he tried to calm himself down. Any pleasure from Harry being clearly jealous about Alston had fled the moment Draco saw how hurt Harry was. It shouldn’t have mattered, because he’d been forced into Oliver’s company on too many occasions now, which would have made Harry’s stumbling upon Alston in his flat more than fair.

If Harry had been anyone else.

A grating pressure coursed through him, as if someone was scrubbing harshly at the inside of his skin with steel wool. It was the same feeling he’d gotten just moments after kissing Harry and breaking his vows to the powerful magic he’d invoked. It reminded him that Harry wasn’t his to pet and coddle, that Harry belonged to another and it wasn’t Draco’s job to make Harry feel warm and fuzzy, it was Oliver’s.

It was this feeling that had spurned his hateful words to Harry earlier. The pain came as a helpful reminder that Draco was merely a helpless bystander to Harry and Oliver’s relationship. He had to put space between them, which was why he started dating Alston to begin with.

Draco would have to be strong, he would have to resist the urge he had to hold the Gryffindor close and promise that everything would be all right. Perhaps this was what he needed to move on, both of them really. If Draco put the right amount of distance between them, Harry could marry Oliver without a guilty conscience and Draco could move on with his life.

Besides, before discovering that Harry was his soul mate, Draco was prepared to acknowledge that there was a very good chance that he’d spend the rest of his life alone. Once Harry was married off, it should be easy to go back to that disposition. He’d date men that he knew weren’t the one, just as he had before. He’d seek their bodies and their company until he tired of them, just as he had before. He knew that game; he knew the rules and how to manipulate it all in his favor, which was significantly better than this game he had with Harry. He’d continue Harry’s lessons, speed them up if needed, and kill his feelings for the man the moment he walked down the aisle.

Just a few more weeks. That’s all he would need to endure this pain.

Harry took a couple hours to regroup before he Apparated to the Puddlemere pitch. The same guards were there as before, but this time they let Harry through with minimal fuss. He quickly made his way onto the grassy grounds where he stood in the shadows and watched Oliver block one of his Chaser’s goals. He calmed himself by gazing up at his graceful boyfriend as they ran play after play.

He’d been an arse for thinking about Malfoy in any other capacity than Slytherin and prat. Even friend seemed to push the envelope too far. In fact, Harry wondered if Malfoy was even capable of having friends at all, or if he just remained civil to people who could serve some beneficial purpose.

Harry knew it was silly – he was paying the Slytherin for his services after all – but still, part of Harry had felt used at learning that he was nothing more to the blond than a hefty pay check and a chance at the largest publicity opportunity available. He should have known better all along. Draco’s flirtations were simply part of the man’s personality, nothing more. Part of him might have even been attracted to Harry’s fame or power, but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t attracted to anything else about him. Malfoy would be looking for the big payoff, and the even bigger boost to his career when Harry and Oliver wed and gave the Slytherin permission to take all the credit.

Which reminded him that he hadn’t told Oliver anything about it yet. He should certainly tell his boyfriend about the arrangement with Draco before news of it hit the papers and Oliver found out that way instead. He wondered how his boyfriend would take the news, and hoped that it would go over smoothly. Harry felt more confident that it would now that it was clear there was nothing going on between he and Draco. In fact, the explanation of why they’d been spending so much time together might serve to ease some of Oliver’s worries about the blond.

Harry winced when reality crashed into him and he realized that Oliver might not take it well at all. Harry had no idea how he would feel if Oliver had been getting secret dating instructions. Even when he actively tried to imagine Oliver telling him that, Harry still couldn’t manage to form an opinion about it.

“Oi, Harry!” Oliver shouted. Harry had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even seen the players pause in their practice. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“I was hoping you might have some time to spend with me today?” Harry asked, beaming up at Oliver. Whenever he had his boyfriend smiling down on him, his troubles with Draco seemed to melt away.

“I can cut this lot loose early,” Oliver said. “You could have me for the rest of the day.”

“Brilliant,” Harry replied, his pleasure quite evident. He could use a distraction today and some alone time with Oliver was sure to keep him from over analyzing his relationship – or lack thereof – with Draco Malfoy.

“I’ll go shower and change and I’ll meet you here in a quarter hour,” the Scot promised and swooped off to tell his team they could take the rest of the day off. Harry smiled to himself in spite of the rotten morning he’d had. Perhaps he should thank the blond, Harry now felt like he had a sense of closure on that front, so maybe Harry’s little revelation had been for the best.

It took exactly three minutes before the media bombarded Harry and Oliver, leaving their dinner to grow cold as they attempted to answer the reporter’s question, hoping they would eventually tire and go away. When that didn’t work, Harry threw some money on the table and Apparated he and Oliver to a beautiful park in Muggle London.

“I come here to escape them sometimes,” Harry admitted when they’d both caught their balance. “I really don’t like being a celebrity.”

“I guessed that about you,” Oliver replied with a soft smile. “I sort of don’t mind it though. It’s been nice opening the paper and seeing you and I together on the cover.”

Harry laughed, unable to hide the fact that he’d had the opposite reaction to that very same thing. “I never really thought of it like that,” he murmured. “I suppose it would help things if I did.”

Olive shrugged and laced his fingers through Harry’s as they walked along the trail. “I think it will all die down soon enough. It’s just big news in a world with nothing interesting to comment on.”

“Hm,” Harry mused aloud, “maybe I should drum up a new Dark Lord to take their minds off of us.”

“That was a joke, right?” Oliver asked, pausing slightly in his long stride to glance at Harry.

“Of course,” Harry muttered before pursing his lips. “It’s not as though I hate being seen with you or anything, it’s just that I like my life to be private.”

“And yet you’ve chosen to be the most famous Auror and date a famous Quidditch star,” Oliver reasoned.

“I’m not famous by my own choosing,” Harry protested. “Even if I lost every single case, people would still know my name because of Voldemort.”

“But you don’t lose every case, Harry. When are you going to realize that popularity hasn’t been thrust upon you? You’ve earned it with all the good deeds you’ve done throughout your entire life. It’s nothing to shy away from, it’s only natural for people to love someone so lovable,” Oliver offered with a grin.

The words made Harry blush furiously and look down at his feet. Was Oliver saying that he loved him? Harry searched his mind for something to say in return, but nothing came. He was very fond of Oliver and he could see himself loving the man, very soon actually, but he hadn’t fallen yet and he was adamantly against professing feelings before he truly felt them. He’d made that mistake with Ginny and vowed never to do it again.

In the end, it didn’t seem to matter what Harry’s reply was, because Oliver pressed forward on his own. “I don’t want to end up closed away inside when we’re together because of your aversion to the press, Harry. I like the theatre, I like going out to dinner, I enjoy going to watch other Quidditch teams play, and I’d especially like to do all those things with you.”

Harry sighed and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand within his own. “I promise to get better,” he offered. “But for tonight, can we have our first, real, alone date…alone?”

“Of course,” Oliver replied with a beautiful smile.

Harry’s breath caught, and he realized that this was the moment. This was the perfect time and place to kiss his boyfriend and show the man what he meant to Harry. The sky was beginning to darken, casting the city in an amber glow from the nearby buildings. The air was cool and perfect for snuggling, and everything around him seemed to buzz with energy. His skin was humming, his mind and heart finally in unison and Oliver was standing there, his lips wet and parted and seemingly expectant.

This was a man who cared about him, who respected him and who understood him, and now, he was without any competition for Harry’s heart. There was nothing holding them back anymore, not even the smirking image of Draco Malfoy.

When Harry leaned in, he knew it was right. The much-anticipated first kiss was everything it should have been; soft, yet insistent, patient, yet hungry and it left Harry with a simmering heat in his gut that couldn’t be doused. His arms found their way around Oliver’s waist and Oliver’s long fingers trailed up and down Harry’s back as they melted into one another in that lovely, desolate park. No one interrupted them, no one took their picture, it was just Harry and Oliver and the moon.

This was how it would be for the rest of their lives and Harry was content in that knowledge.

When Oliver pulled away, only far enough to be able to see Harry properly, he was breathless and panting. “Wow,” he whispered. “That was definitely worth the wait.”

Harry grinned and nodded as he lifted one of his hands from Oliver’s waist to run it through the man’s dark hair. “It was as special as I wanted it to be.”

Oliver closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Harry’s, their cold noses brushing slightly from the movement. “Harry, I love you,” he whispered; to which Harry could only swallow thickly. “You don’t have to say anything back,” Oliver added. “I’m not saying it so that I can hear it in return. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I thought you should know.”

Harry sighed, his breath mingling with Oliver’s and forming a fog in the crisp night air. “I’m close, Olli,” Harry replied, because he knew he had to say something truthful. “I’m very close.”

Oliver’s only response was to kiss him again, and Harry was grateful for the ability to not have to think too hard. It was easy to get lost in the feel of Oliver’s lips, and as Oliver pulled Harry closer, as if trying to absorb him, Harry realized how true his words had been.

He was closer to falling in love with Oliver than he’d thought possible just hours before. Now that a certain blond Slytherin was entirely out of the picture, Harry’s life seemed solid and strong, and no longer bending in the wind like a wispy branch.

And he had Malfoy to thank for that.

Author’s Note: I know, I know, get on with the Drarry snogging already, but I must refrain in honor of giving you all the story you deserve. You’ll just have to grin and wait. Happiness will come eventually. Besides, what kind of obstacle would Oliver be if Harry wasn’t fond of him? For updates on my story posting schedule, join my update group at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Digitallace/