Let go...

Hi *waves* it's been a long time since I've posted anything, although I'm sure you didn't miss me much with all those great stories around. But to those who did miss me, SORRY, I've had a rather severe writer's block not long after I've posted my last story (which was caused by my own stupidity to accidentally delete all my stories from my computer). And after I got over that it was summer again and I'm always depressed and unbearable when it's hot - and although I can only write when I'm depressed, without some good days I can't really finish anything because I have so many angsty feelings to tend to that I keep jumping from one story to another. Anyway, sorry for the boring details. Don't even bother to read - oops, too late for that. *blushes*


Let go

From the suffocating silence of my room I can hear the insufferable noise of fireworks. It tells me it’s midnight. I sit on the sofa and listen to the more or less regular explosion of red, gold and green. I listen to the cheering of millions of people all over the world, I watch as their faces light up, illuminated by the lively sparks – yes, I can almost hear them, see them as if they were here in the empty apartment. Their happiness hurts me more than their suffering had all those years ago, during the war. Am I that heartless? Or maybe it’s just my bitterness speaking? I don’t know. But I hate them. Because they remind me of my own misery and loneliness. Their carefree laughter cuts into the bottom of my soul and leaves me slowly bleeding away in front of their oblivious eyes. I hate them because they remind me of what I have lost forever. They remind me of you.

I take a sip of the coffee I have been nursing for what seems like hours while staring numbly at the photograph on the wall. I can only see its shadow in the dark but I can’t bring myself to switch on the lights. I don’t need to. That picture is burned inside my heart for the rest of my life. It shows two young men on a sandy beach, watching the sunset. The dark-haired one is casually leaning against the blond, who is dreamily stoking the unruly locks of his lover. Cheesy? Yes, I never denied it. You always hated it. Still I refused to part from it, because for me it has been a token of better times.

I can remember that day clearly. It started as one of the worst of my whole life – yes, including being completely ignored by a father, whose appreciation I’ve always longed for; including being offered to the Dark Lord by my own mother in order to save her husband from His wrath, including seeing both of them sentenced to death by the Ministry thanks to my treachery; yes, do count on a hoard of red-heads and a bunch of paranoid Aurors to make my life unbearable.

It was more than a year after I came to you for help, and told you about the Dark Lord’s plans concerning Dumbledore and my involvement in it, a year after we feigned Dumbledore’s death and started our search on Horcruxes, a year after you gave me shelter in your house at Grimmauld Place. It was the 5th July, exactly a month after my 18th birthday, a month after we got together.

I wanted to celebrate our one month anniversary by taking you away from all your problems and worries. But they wouldn’t let us; it was during the worst period of the war, after all. After a week of screaming and arguing, however, you managed to reach a compromise. We were allowed to spend a couple of hours on a remote island in the middle of nowhere, but only with the proper measure of security.

That’s how you ended up preparing so much food that it would have been enough for a complete hoard of werewolfs and I ended up sulking in the corner, because the “PROPER measure of security” apparently meant sharing our romantic date with Tonks, Shakelbolt, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Moody, 10 random Aurors and obviously Hermione and the Weasel. Oh, and I almost forgot Dobby – although I’m to this day not sure how he contributed to your safety, but I couldn’t care less. All I wanted was a quiet evening with the one person I loved so much that it scared me and a bunch of idiots managed to turn it into a farce within seconds.

By the time we were ready to go, I was having a Hell of a headache from the noise, the hateful glares and the ridiculous escape plans we had to memorise – all of which mysteriously involved me being used as bait, yes, ALL 22!!! Getting to that damn island wasn’t as easy as I thought either. First, to avoid being traced down by Death Eaters, we had to apparate to random places like Timbuktu, the bottom of Loch Ness, Disneyland – it still makes me sick to think of it. When we finally arrived, drenched and exhausted, our “bodyguards” immediately attacked the food, laughing and shouting and simply making living a burden for me.

I sat down on the shore, as far from all of it as possible, closed my eyes and resumed sulking. It was a nightmare. But then I felt soft lips on my bare neck and a slender finger gently caressing my back, and the next moment you were sitting next to me, your back pressed against by chest, a finger drawing invisible lines in my palm, your unruly black hair tickling my nose and your heart beating to the same rhythm as mine. And without saying a word it took you about 5 seconds to convince me that in fact this was the most wonderful day of my whole life.

That’s when I heard the click of Hermione’s muggle camera. I guess she was the only one who was happy for us at that time – although a few weeks later it turned out that her support was not completely unselfish, she was only grateful to us since people being completely shocked by seeing you and me together, the announcement of her relationship with Blaise didn’t cause great uproar. I couldn’t help but admire this Slytherin trait in her; when I later told her so, she only blushed and looked proud, knowing that this was the highest praise she could have got from a pureblood Slytherin. Still it remains a fact that at that time she was the only person who approved of our relationship and I was infinitely grateful for that.

I saw her smile happily when I looked at her after hearing her make that picture, but her smile soon vanished and was replaced by a heavy sadness that still haunts me today, as she motioned to the noisy crowd behind her and mouthed an honest apology even though she could not have prevented this fiasco. Yes, I remember that look clearly, because it’s the one she tries to hide every time she looks at me now. As if it was her fault that I won’t get my happily ever after with you. Sometimes I almost think she knew it already, that day on the beach – she would laugh if she knew I was thinking something like that, she doesn’t believe in these things, but I know she must have felt something of what was to come. I can see it in that look. As if she thought it was her fault that I have lost you.

I have lost you.

4 years ago on this day.

On the 5th June.

On my birthday.

1 year after we got together. 1 damn short year after that…

4 years ago on this day you defeated the Dark Lord.

4 years ago on this day you alone saved the whole world and became the hero of every witch and wizard.

4 years ago on this day.

I have lost you.

Even if you’re still with me, I have lost you.

Suddenly I hear the key turn in the lock and the door opens carefully. A dark figure slowly enters the silent flat and cautiously closes the door. That’s when I switch on the small lamp that stands on the small table beside the sofa. You startle and look like the scared schoolboy you have never been, a bit like Neville during Potions. It’s almost funny. Almost.

“I… I thought… I didn’t… want to wake you… up I… thought you’d be asleep… by now.” You look so guilty. Too guilty.

“I was waiting for you.” I state calmly, maybe a bit colder than I wanted. It tells you how hurt I am, even if I don’t say the words. I used to be so good at hiding my feelings, but for you I have opened my heart… I guess I have to learn how to close it again.

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t want to come so late… I just…” I take another sip from my cold coffee and try not to look at you. I don’t want you to see my disappointment, apparently you feel bad enough already. But you seem to sense it anyway.

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I… all those people just kept talking… and then I started to play with Kearan and I forgot the time!”

I cringe. I don’t like to hear about the little boy of Hermione and Blaise. It’s a sore subject for me but you haven’t realized that in all those years. I desperately want children, the happy family I never had… NEITHER of us ever had… and I know you want it too. But whenever I bring up the question of adoption you blush and change the subject or run off to one of your friends… our friends now, actually. First I thought you just needed time but now I know it’s because of me. You want a family but not with me. My face contracts at the thought but you take it as a reaction to your lame excuses and start to get angry.

“For Christ’s sake, Draco! They are my friends! I just wanted to spend a couple of hours with them and you act as if I had committed high treason. What the Hell is wrong with…”

“Harry…” I say as I get up and approach you. “I didn’t mean it that way” Oh, really? “You have every right to be with them. I didn’t stay up just to question you about the reception, or what you have done afterwards.” Didn’t I? “I waited because I can’t sleep without you peacefully snoring in my arms.”

“I don’t snore.” you mutter with a playful mile spreading on your lips and I force myself to smile back at you.

“Yes you do! You’re worse than Dobby and that says something!”

You giggle softy and hit me playfully in the stomach before I lock you in a tight embrace – not too tight, that would just make you suspicious. You lean into the embrace, but only for a second and then you push yourself away. Too soon. Too bloody soon. I want to pull you back so much it hurts. But I can’t. It would just give away my insecurity.

“Sorry, Draco.” You say with your palm still pressed against my chest. “I just… I guess I’m just a bit tired after the Ministry reception. You know how it is; everybody wants a piece of me.”

“I honestly hope they have failed. I mean you’re still in one, right? Didn’t lose any…errr… important bits, did you?” I ask teasingly while pulling you a bit closer by your waist. But it seems to be a bit too much already and you slowly slip out of my arms.

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, now I’ll just take a shower and go to bed. I’m knackered.” You give me a small peck on my lips and before I can say anything you close the bathroom door behind you.

“Do you want me to join you?” I call after you with a voice much more desperate and much less flirtatious than I want to.

“No, it’s ok!” you call back and I can hear the sharp click of the lock. It’s like the sound of an empty gun directed at my heart that leaves me wishing it was loaded.

I stand in the hall for a while, listening to the water flowing. The light touch of your soft lips is slowly freezing on mine. I fight the urge to break something – a mug, a vase, that torturous picture on the wall… anything, just to make me feel in control of all this. It’s not even this damn party. For years we went there together and it was horrible. The official part was simply ridiculous; it involved a clumsy speech from the new Minister of Magic “in honour of the Saviour” blabla, and sharing niceties with some foreign officials. It was boring and you hated it as much as I did.

Last year I half jokingly suggested we should stay at home and celebrate with hot chocolate and slow love making – after all the 5th June for us is not only the day you defeated the Dark Lord, it’s my birthday and more importantly our anniversary. But you simply smiled and told me I could stay at home, that you would be fine on your own. I tried to protest but you were resolute that it was more than enough if only one of us suffered at that party. Then you left without me and I didn’t get to tell you that I preferred the tortures of that damn reception if it meant being with you.

This year, you didn’t even ask if I wanted to come. I know, this is just a small, unimportant thing. It doesn’t matter. Still, it makes me want to scream because it is one of those things that show me that you are drifting away, and there is nothing I could do about it. It makes me feel so helpless.

What happened to us, Harry? What happened to our love? When have we lost it? When have YOU stopped loving me the way I still love you? We were so happy once, during the war. I know those were terrible times. So many losses, so many graves in the backyard of Grimmauld Place – too many to live there and see them night and day, and being reminded of it all. We were so scared – kids, stuck in the middle of destruction. But when we were together we almost believed we could save the whole world. And you finally did. WE did, TOGETHER. We were happy, despite everything.

But after the war everything became so difficult – or rather too damn easy, I don’t know. I never thought the moment would come when your friends would accept me not because they didn’t want to put you under more stress than necessary but because of me. I thought they would finally openly turn against me. But it didn’t happen. Suddenly, when they were free to hate me, they apparently decided not to – I guess there must be some Gryffindor logic behind it that I just don’t get. For some of them it was easier than for others, but finally even Weasley seemed to be over his grudge – which is probably his muggle girlfriend’s doing; I got on quite well with Leah very soon.

However, while all the hindrances others had put in our way disappeared, we created some of our own. We were fighting more and more after we left Grimmauld Place and moved into our simple but homely flat. Our fights weren’t even about important things, just small matters like where to go on holiday, and everyday stuff like washing up or ridiculous things like that stupid picture against which you seem to have developed some severe hatred.

You started to go out on your own more and I can’t discuss it with you without you starting a fight. So I don’t say anything. I don’t think you even noticed that something is wrong – that I’m losing you. Nobody does. For them, we are still the perfect couple. Only Hermione knows, I can see it in that look she gives me. But she can’t help either.

I just don’t know what to do. I can’t even enjoy our time together, because I have to measure every movement I make, I can’t afford to do something that could push you even further away from me. I try to show you how much you mean to me, that you are all that I live for, that I can’t live without you – but I can’t let myself become too clingy because that would just scare you away.

But it doesn’t really matter, does it? I will lose you anyway. It’s just a matter of time. Or have I lost you already? That day when you killed Voldemort? What did that day change between us? Did you ever really belong to me? Or were it just the circumstances that made us drift into each other’s arms? Was there ever more in your heart than the need for safety and affection? I try to tell myself there was. But how can I be sure? Does it even matter? Whether you loved me once? You don’t love me now… it’s just a matter of time until you realize that too. And what then? Will you stay? Will you stay out of pity or habit or fear? Are you afraid of being alone, Harry? Are you afraid enough to stay with someone you can’t love?

Only when I hear the small lamp break on the ground do I realize that I have picked it up and thrown it violently to the floor. It hurts to realize that it doesn’t even make me feel better. All I can do is stare at the broken pieces for minutes that feel like hours. I just stand there in the dark, fighting back angry tears of helplessness that start to well up in my eyes.

“What happened?” You’re standing behind me; I can hear concern in your voice. I can see your refection in the mirror on the opposite wall illuminated by the small ray of light coming from the bathroom you’ve just left. You’re only wearing a towel and are still dripping with water. You seem a bit out of breath too, you must have come running when you heard me shatter that lamp. Can you hear my heart break too?

“Nothing I… just… I just knocked the lamp down… accidentally” my voice is shaking from suppressed emotions. I wish you would just go away. I don’t know if I can hide them from you now. But you don’t leave. I can feel your heat in my back. It is burning my skin and freezing my heart.

And then I feel it. Soft lips pressed to my neck. A slender finger travelling down my back. Just like that day on the beach. Just like that. If only we could go back to the way things were then. I don’t care if it meant that the others would still hate me. I don’t care if it meant that we would still be in war with Voldemort, I just don’t care. I would give anything to feel so loved again as on that day.

You slowly turn me towards you, leaving kisses on my neck, behind my ear. Then you travel lower and open my shirt to make way for you addictive lips. I shiver under your soft touches as you get rid of it. Oh, Harry, how can you do this to me? How can you make me want to believe all the pretences between us just by slowly sliding your hand down my side and pressing your lips against mine? How can a small flicker of your tongue tell me that I’ll die without you – like a sunflower without sunshine?

The kiss soon becomes more heated and demanding as we clumsily stumble towards our bedroom, shedding my clothes and your towel on the way. It feels so good to be pressed to your soft, slightly tanned skin, to feel your muscles tense as I slide my palm down the curve of your back, to hear your barely audible sigh as I pull you even closer to my hardness. I slowly push you on the bed, not letting go of your lips. Your one hand is deep in my hair the other is travelling up and down my back but when I grind our achingly hard cocks together you cry out loud and press your fingers hard against me, surely leaving red marks.

Oh, God, Harry, you’re killing me. I wish this moment could last forever, even though there’s nothing spectacular about it, it’s not the almost painful heaven of a mind-shattering orgasm or some memory we could put into a drawer of our minds and look at when we’re old and tell about it to our children

– the children you don’t want with me.

No, I can’t think about that now. I can’t spoil this moment. This perfect view of you under me, with eyes closed, lips parted in a silent moan, panting, your desperate need pressed against my thighs, strong fingers branding me with your sign. I’m yours. Always. God, you’re beautiful. I’m mesmerized.

I only realize the passing of time when you needily open your muscular legs and grind your hips impatiently to me. Your hand slowly snakes between us and your long slick fingers close around me. I have no idea when you have reached into the drawer beside our bed for the bottle of lubricant but I don’t care. I can’t think about that now. I can’t THINK now.

The slow, determined strokes of your fingers burn me. It’s like being consumed by a destructive fire. I’m purged by the flames – purged from my heritage, purged from the betrayal on my parents, purged from all I have done to those weaker than me, purged from all the deaths I have caused in the name of “the right cause”. I’m a phoenix. Burned to death and then reborn in the same fire – your fire. There’s nothing sweeter than melting into you, than losing myself completely and becoming one with you as I move slowly inside of you.

There is nothing between us. Not now. No fear. No insecurity. No anger. There is nothing, only the unique mixture of the rhythm of our hearts and rocking motions. A rhythm that not long ago belonged to two men but has turned into something sacred. This indescribable wave of pleasure, me inside of you, my hand lovingly around you, your arms around me, the sweet sound somewhere between a needy cry and a desperate sigh that you make when you’re coming, this burning passion that erupts from our hearts, my love for you, this moment – this, this is eternity.

In this moment we’ll live forever. Even when you’ll be sleeping in someone else’s arms and I’ll never wake up again. In this moment I will never die.

This is eternity, this is life, this is our love.

I’m yours. Always. Even when you’re gone I’ll be yours. My love for you is not something I can just erase. It will always be there in my veins. Just as you’ll always be in my heart. Loving you was not a choice. Just like not loving you isn’t one either. It’s who I am. You can change in many ways, you can grow up to be wiser and more mature, you can change your beliefs and the whole world but you can’t change who you are.

And my love for you is all that’s left of me. Everything else, the noble pureblood, the Malfoy heir, the insufferable prat from school, the Death Eater – all this is erased. I’m none of those anymore, I have left all that behind the day I came to you for help. It was my choice to kill all of these, to kill most of what I have ever known. It was a choice I had to make because of something I could not destroy, and was unable to ignore – my love for you.

My love for you was stronger than breeding and manipulation. It has survived so much. Can it survive your betrayal? Yes, Harry, you have betrayed me, even if you haven’t cheated on me and never would because you’re too noble - I’m almost sorry for that, because this way I can’t even try hating you for the pain I’m feeling. But you have betrayed me the second your heart has abandoned mine. Can my love survive alone? And if not? What am I if I’m robbed of all that’s left of me? How can I not think of simply letting go of the empty shell I undoubtedly will become?

I search for the answers in your bright green eyes. But instead you find something in mine. Not answers but all the questions I was too scared to voice. I can see the way your eyes change, the way they are filled with confusion, realization, fear and sorrow.

So now you know. What now Harry? How soon will you leave me? In a week? A month? A year? Will you even be here when I wake up in the morning?

I expect you to gently push me away and turn over to escape into the protecting silence of sleep but you don’t. Your grip on me tightens and your eyes are filled with a determination that I only saw on your face when you were fighting Voldemort. You have defeated him. But will you be able to defeat what has come between us? No. Because this time you’ll have to face a much fiercer enemy – yourself. The doubts of your own heart. I had faith in you when you were facing the greatest dark wizard of all times. But now, when my faith would be your greatest ally, I just can’t find myself capable of trusting your powers. You can’t win this fight. You can’t win against your heart. And you know this too.

But you will fight, more fiercely than ever to save us. But you will lose, Harry. You will lose.

And then I’ll let go.

End

So? What do you think? Please tell me, I haven't recieved any reviews in months, please have pity on poor me. *puppy eyes*