The Invitation

"Yes, Draco. I know it was another boring day at Gringotts today. But you're the one who decided to work for goblins." They'd had this conversation before. Draco couldn't stand the pressure the goblins put on him at work, but he refused to get another job though Harry knew this had to be far from his dream job.

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

"Come on, Dray. It's your birthday, get up." Harry pulled the blanket off of his lovers head.
"No. I'm turning 30 today Harry. I'm older than you." Harry never knew why this bothered the blonde so much, but it did. He thought he looked foolish, living with a younger man.


It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

"Why do you look so depressed, Draco?" This question required no answer. Harry knew why but he wanted to know if Draco would finally admit it.
"I'm bored, Harry. Not depressed." He was always snappy on the anniversary of the day his father killed his mother.


It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.


"Harry, I know what today is, but you have to try to move on. You can't blame yourself for everything." Now why did that sound hypocrytical?
"For this, I can." Today was the anniversary of the day the war ended. The day Harry lost his surrogante godfather to Bellatrix Lestrange.


I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.


"Harry, this is crazy. One of us is going to get hurt."
"But Draco, I haven't been flying in forever. Neither have you." Harry whined. They hadn't touched a broom since Hogwarts and Harry wanted to play a game of Seeker vs. Seeker.
"I doubt either one of us could even spot the Snitch as well as we used to anyway." And he went back inside.


I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

Not everyone knew that Draco had betrayed his father and everything he'd been taught just to save the man he loved. Even though he didn't think Harry even noticed him anymore. Hardly anyone knew that it was Harry AND Draco who delivered the last fatal blow to the Dark Lord.


It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

"I really hate the rain." Draco stated bluntly, starring out into the street infront of their home.
"How can you hate the rain? It's beautiful really."
"It's rather bleak to me."

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.


It was another full moon and Draco had just locked Harry into his cage. Yes, he could brew Wolf's bane and yes, he gave it to Harry that night but they still agreed he should be kept in a cage every night. Harry's howl at the moon showing through the window brought Draco out of his memories of the night he'd slipped up and, in his eyes, let Harry get bitten.


I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

"I'm not getting up." He could see by the look in his eyes that Draco'd had a nightmare the night before. Probably about his mother's murder again. That's what they were always about.
"But Draco...."
"No, Harry. I'm not moving." And he stayed there the whole day.

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

"Come on Draco."
"Harry, you know everyone there hates me."
"The Weasley's don't hate you, love. Okay, Ron does. But the others respect you."
"They don't and you know it." Once again, Harry went to a Weasley family Christmas dinner, alone.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

Draco may not love his work, but he buried himself in it. It was becoming rarer that Harry saw him away from his finance ledgers for the bank. On top of that, Draco seemed to be shrinking away from things he'd once enjoyed.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.


Draco was already home from work one evening when Harry got home. He was standing in front of the, now broken, full-length mirror starring at his cracked reflection. Scattered around him were torn sheets of parchment. "I quit at the bank today." He turned to face Harry, tear tracks staining his cheeks. "Can I come flying with you and the Weasleys later?" He asked in a small voice.
"Oh, Draco." Harry pulled the slightly smaller man into a hug as his tears started again.


I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.