Chapter Nineteen
Future
Harry awoke slowly, feeling strangely content despite how his body ached. When he felt Draco move next to him, he was surprised by just how nice it was to have someone in bed with him, even if they hadn’t done anything but sleep during the night. It was a long time since he’d last shared bed with someone else. Years, in fact.
When Harry had left the Wizarding world behind, he had been too messed up to be able to have a real relationship. That didn’t mean he hadn’t tried, of course, and in the spring, six months after leaving the Wizarding world, Harry had had several shorter relationships that had all ended badly. He had been almost like Darius, dating anyone on two legs, getting them to bed and then dumping them.
Pally – his agent and first friend in the Muggle world – had been the one to make him stop. She’d threatened to drag him to a psychologist, but Harry had refused. He didn’t want to bring all the crap he had with him back, least of all with a Muggle shrink with whom he would never be able to be honest. He wanted to leave that life behind him and not deal with it, that was the point of leaving magic behind. That was why he’d packed all of his magical possessions away in a locker at the bank, except for the one set of robes he’d kept with him. He didn’t know why he kept the robes; he just needed something that didn’t have magic but was part of that world anyway.
Draco shifted slightly next to him.
His mouth was slightly open and he was curled up next to Harry, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked down at Draco’s legs, hidden beneath sweatpants. They never moved; they were just— there.
He hoped that the pool would be done soon. He hadn’t been out of bed long enough to go look at it since Thursday, but Draco had promised him that it was coming along and that the construction workers were saying it would be done in a matter of days. Harry would have Draco start training in it as soon as it was done.
That reminded him – they had to go look for good workout machines to have in the workout area Harry had made space for. Harry had told himself that he would start working out, back when Draco had still been in the hospital, and although it hadn’t happened yet, he still intended to do it. And, of course, the workout room would have equipment for Draco to get better.
He cleared his head of all thought and just lay there, enjoying the moment. He rarely did that, especially in the last few weeks. He’d been too busy with classes and everything else.
He felt calmness wash over him. Sunlight filtered in between the closed blinds, casting the room in a misty glow.
Draco moved again, raising his head. “G’d morning,” he said sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.
Harry thought he looked adorable and smiled at Draco.
“You look better,” Draco observed, sitting up and moving his legs over the side of the bed. “Not so much of the sickly pale skin and all.”
“Sickly pale skin?” Harry asked, letting a laugh escape. “If pale skin means you’re sick, then you’ve been sick since I first met you.”
Draco glared at him. “You know what I mean, Potter,” he said.
“Oh, we’re back to last names, are we? Well, then, Malfoy. Did you sleep well?” Harry was still smiling.
Draco rolled his eyes at Harry. “I did, actually. But now I’m hungry.”
“Is your tummy hungry?” Harry teased him, relishing in how much better he was feeling. Draco took one of the pillows and threw it at Harry.
“Not funny,” he pouted.
“Yes, funny. In fact, hilarious,” Harry said. He grabbed Draco’s wrist and tugged, causing Draco to lose his balance and fall back on the bed. Harry grinned widely at him, bent over him and kissed those delicious pink lips until they were red and swollen. Proud of his accomplishment, he pulled back, panting. “Come on. Let’s make some breakfast.”
“You certainly know how to talk dirty,” Draco said, rolling his eyes and sitting up.
Harry grinned and got off the bed. His body was still a bit weak and his muscles protested against moving around too much, but they didn’t protest quite as much as Draco, who growled when he climbed over him. “I think I preferred you sick.”
“Yes, yes,” Harry said. “Learn to live with your disappointment.”
“Ha, ha.”
“You’re really not a morning person, now are you?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Your powers—”
“—of observation astound you,” Harry finished for Draco. “Yes, I know, they astound me too sometimes.”
“All right, that’s it,” Draco said. “I am never taking care of you again when you’re sick if this is how you thank me.”
Harry grinned at him, kissed him yet again and then he held the wheelchair still as Draco lifted himself off the bed to it. They left Harry’s room and went out to eat breakfast.
They discussed what kinds of workout machines they should buy during breakfast and then they continued on with light topics like food and university.
“You know,” Harry said, frowning, “I’m going to be even further behind in classes now.”
“Why do you go to school still?” Draco asked him, sipping his coffee.
“Because it’s something to do,” Harry answered immediately.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t seem to be a very good reason for doing something full time. You should enjoy what you do, at least if you have the chance to choose.”
“What do you suggest, that I quit?”
Draco shrugged. “Why not? Looking around here, it’s obvious that you have more than enough money to live well anyway.”
Harry was about to reply, but then realised that he didn’t have any good reason anymore. He’d had a good reason before, three years earlier when he first started going there. He’d wanted something to do and he’d wanted to meet new people, find new friends. But now? He had the friends; he didn’t make the effort to get to know anyone else anymore. Myra and Darius were the best friend he could ever want.
It was Harry’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know.”
Draco shook his head at him. “Then why do you continue?”
Harry frowned. “Because…” He trailed off, taking the cup of coffee to his lips. “I don’t know that either, I guess.”
“Quit?” Draco suggested.
“I can’t just quit,” Harry said, aghast. “What am I supposed to do with my days instead?”
Draco smiled slightly at him. “You’re an author – if nothing else, you should write,” he said. “Otherwise, you can apply for a job somewhere. Talk to that publisher of yours; see if you can work there. Or apply for some brain-less job somewhere. At a café – heck, you could even work at McDonald’s.”
Harry pulled a face at the prospect. “I rather think not.”
“Then just be home for a while. Finish that book of yours – I can see in your face that you want to finish it right now,” Draco said.
“You see that in my face?” Harry asked. He was surprised; he didn’t think Draco had known about his book and his fervent wish to finish it within the original deadline set by the publishers. They had given him some extra time, but with all the ideas and the involved plot Harry had come up with for the book, he only wanted to sit down and let the words pour out of him—
“I can see it now,” Draco smirked. “You’re thinking about that book and the characters and the plot and what’s going to happen.”
Harry blushed, wondering if he really was that obvious and when Draco had become so good at reading him.
Draco continued, “So quit Uni and finish the book and then figure out what it is you want to do with your life.”
Harry cocked his head to the side. “And what do you want to do with your life?”
“Me?” Draco looked taken aback that Harry had asked him a question. After a few moments of silence, he said, quietly, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t want to continue with publishing?” Harry asked.
Another smile ghosted over Draco’s features. “Nah,” he said. “I told you, I’d quit earlier that day.”
“So what do you want to do? If you could choose anything in the world, what would you do?”
Draco looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he repeated, looking down at his place rather than meeting Harry’s gaze.
It suddenly dawned on Harry just why Draco was so unwilling to share his dreams with Harry.
He didn’t believe that he would ever get the chance to fulfil them, because he was bound to the wheelchair.
A surge of tenderness for the man before him came over him.
“We’ll make you walk again, I promise,” Harry said, his voice quiet yet strong, the promise forceful.
Draco’s head snapped up at the words. “Don’t say that,” he said quietly. “Just— don’t.”
But Harry had made up his mind. Draco was going to walk again, no matter what lengths they had to go through to get there. He reached over to Draco and squeezed his hand briefly, reassuringly. Draco looked up, sad silver orbs meeting determined green ones. Harry offered a gentle grin and Draco gave a weak smile back.
“You could always start that café Myra suggested,” Harry said.
Draco just smiled slightly at him. They finished their coffees in silence.
Later that day, Harry cleaned his room. He had decided that Draco’s idea to quit studying was a wonderful idea. He was bored by it and there was no reason left for him to stay there. Although he was a bit uncomfortable with dropping out, just like that in the middle of the term, he knew from the smile that found its way to his lips all the time that it was the right decision. He would go to the university tomorrow and tell them.
So it wasn’t the normal cleaning of dusting the shelves off and vacuuming it – although he actually did that, too – that Harry did. Instead, it was him putting his university books away. It felt like such a relief to place them in the bookcase, knowing that he wouldn’t have to look at them again unless he wanted to do so.
Draco watched him with an amused smile. “You look like a kid on Christmas,” he said. “Is it really that much fun to put books away?”
Harry grinned widely, nodding. “I don’t have to look in these books again unless I want to,” he said happily.
“You’re insane, you know that? Did the idea of dropping out never occur to you before?” Draco asked, shaking his head.
Harry stopped in mid-motion, cocking his head to the side. Thinking for a few seconds, he then shook his head. “Nope. Never occurred to me.”
“You’re lucky to have me,” Draco muttered and Harry smiled widely.
“Yeah, I am,” he said and bent down and kissed him. He was getting quite good at stealing kisses every other minute. “Very lucky,” he said when he pulled back and then he continued to put his books away and dusting off the shelves as he went.
Draco stared wide-eyed at him, his mouth slightly open, but Harry pretended not to notice.
Harry called Myra as soon as he was finished in his room.
“You are quitting school?” she practically screamed at him and he winced.
“Um, yeah,” he said. He figured this would probably be the hardest part of dropping out.
It sounded as though she had one of those closed-eyes-and-shaking-head moments as she asked, “Why?”
“Because I’m bored?” Harry squeaked.
“You just suddenly realised that?” she asked.
“Well— I was so far behind after, well, you know, the fire and all,” Harry began, stumbling over the words in his haste to explain himself. “And then I got sick and now I’m going to be even further behind. It’s not fun anymore.”
“And I’m guessing you want to write?”
“Err, yes,” Harry said.
“Yes, I’ve seen it in your eyes,” Myra said. “You get that faraway look in your eyes when you’re plotting your stories.”
“Am I really that easy to read?” Harry asked, frowning at her although she couldn’t see.
“Yes, dear, you are,” Myra said.
They continued to talk for a bit longer, before Myra told him, “I need to get back to studying. Unlike some others, I can’t drop out just like that.”
“Um, no, I guess not,” Harry said. Then he grinned evilly and added, “But you could just marry Darius instead and be a home-wife and you won’t have to worry about such petty thing as education.”
“Harry Evans!” she exclaimed, sounding horrified. “Even if I were to marry someone wealthy, I would never give up my own career. I am not going to be a perfect little home wife.”
“But you wouldn’t say no to marrying Darius, hm?” Harry couldn’t help but tease her. Besides, this was a good way as any to find out if she felt anything beyond friendship for Darius.
“Err— what are you talking about, Harry?” Myra asked. “I’m not going to marry Darius. We’re not in love with each other, why should we marry?”
Harry noted that Myra didn’t sound too horrified with the concept, despite her words. He wondered what she would say if Darius actually dared to ask her out at some point.
“Oh I’m just joking with you,” Harry said, grinning.
“Sometimes I don’t understand your sense of humour,” Myra muttered.
“Only sometimes?”
“How are things going between you and Draco?” Myra asked, abruptly changing the topic.
“Good,” Harry said honestly. “He’s been taking care of me while I’ve been sick.”
“I guess you found him on Thursday?”
Harry blushed. “He’d been out,” he said. “Came back just a few minutes after I talked to you.”
“And?” Myra prompted.
“And nothing,” Harry said, deciding that she didn’t need to know everything just yet. It was his, his and Draco’s, and he wanted to keep it that way for just a little longer. Myra would find out sooner rather than later anyway. “We talked for a bit and I got sick and since then, he’s been playing maid.”
“Told you he’s a softie,” Myra said, laughing.
“Whatever,” Harry said. “Weren’t you going to study?”
“Oh, right,” Myra said. She paused for a second. “Can you come over for dinner?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah,” Myra said. “It’d be nice to talk to you two again. I haven’t seen you since Thursday. It’s way longer than I can go without my Harry-dose.”
They both laughed again and they agreed that Harry and Draco would come over for dinner at seven. Then they hung up, so that Myra could return to her studying.
Late that afternoon, Harry and Draco took a taxi into central London to shop. Draco had ordered books and DVD’s on the internet, but they still spent close to an hour walking up and down the isles of a huge book- and music-store. CD’s of all kinds – soundtracks, rock ‘n’ roll, pop, classic, techno, rap – went into the basket and Harry found several books that he’d been meaning to read but hadn’t had the time to.
“Anything you like, just take it,” Harry said to Draco, trying to reassure him that he didn’t care about the money. They hadn’t spoken of money since they’d— gotten together? Were those the words for it? Was Draco his boyfriend now? It certainly felt like it and Harry wanted it. He wanted to call Draco his boyfriend. He wanted to call Draco his.
He saw Draco wheeling himself up and down the isles, choosing a CD here and there. Harry in turn went over to the DVD’s and chose a few that he’d been planning on watching.
By the end of the hour, they had both filled up their baskets and Harry paid for the stuff. Draco went through the bag of movies in the taxi on the way back.
“’Lord of the Rings extended version’?” he asked. “I guess I should have known, since it was one of the first books you bought. ‘The Matrix’ – I haven’t seen it.”
“You haven’t seen ‘The Matrix’?” Harry asked, pretending to be horrified. “That is a crime!”
“Yes, yes,” Draco said, waving him off. “Whatever. You just got the DVD; I will be able to watch it whenever I want, won’t I?”
Harry grinned and nodded, satisfied.
“’My best friend’s wedding’, ‘You’ve got mail’ and ‘Pretty woman’? Why on earth did you buy those?”
Harry shrugged. “Need something mindless sometimes.”
“’Charlie’s Angles’. More mindlessness. As with the collected ‘Bond’-movies. Gah, are you actually intending to watch these?” Draco asked, shaking his head. “You won’t have any brain cells left.”
“You mean to say that I have brain cells now? That’s a compliment, coming from you,” Harry said, grinning.
“’The Lion King’. Finally a good movie. The ‘Terminator’-movies. Right. Enough said. Moving on.”
And so it went on. Draco went through every single one of the movies Harry had bought and he had some kind of comment for all of them. Harry enjoyed listening to him; it was a fun way to spend his time. He looked briefly through the music Draco had picked out. It truly was a variety of CD’s; even a few artists that Harry had never heard of. He would have a wonderful time listening through the CD’s, finding new favourites.
The taxi drove them to their house and Harry took the folded-up wheelchair out, helping Draco into it and paying the driver.
“We need to buy a car, I think,” Harry said. “It’ll pay itself sooner or later, considering the costs of the taxi. Besides, the taxi is inconvenient—”
“Do you even have a license?” Draco asked.
Harry glared at him. “What, nervous about riding with me?” he asked. “I have had my license since I was twenty, thank you very much.”
Draco rolled his eyes at him. “No, why would I be nervous about riding with a former Gryffindor, who’s known for acting first and thinking later?”
Harry sent him a mock-glare. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very good driver,” he said indignantly, walking before Draco up to the front door.
He’d just put the keys into the keyhole when he heard the rustling of leaves. He whipped around, eyes scanning the front yard.
“What is it?” Draco asked, frowning at him.
Harry didn’t answer; his eyes continued to look around to find something out of the ordinary.
“Harry?” Draco’s voice held both annoyance and uncertainty.
“There is something—” Harry mumbled.
Just then, he heard the rustling again and he saw a figure move. Harry moved cautiously forward towards the bush. He stretched his hand out and slowly parted the leaves to find—
“Mona?”
The shock he felt was obvious in the way he said her name.
She looked up at him from where she was crouching, her face dirty and scratched. Harry didn’t think those scratches were made only by the branches of the bush.
“Harry? Who is it?” Draco called uncertainly, frowning at him.
Harry gripped Mona’s arm securely and she winced at the touch, her eyes widening. “No, no,” she whimpered, “I can’t be seen—”
“You’re wanted by the police,” Harry said to her, his voice shaking and continuing to drag her up from the bush. “They think you’re the one behind the bombing of my apartment.”
Her eyes widened again, filling with tears. “That wasn’t me,” she whispered, looking as though she might cry. She seemed scared, frightened of something around them, because her eyes kept darting away from Harry, to where Draco sat in his wheelchair and beyond. “Please, let me go,” she whispered.
“What are you doing here if you didn’t want to talk?” Harry asked.
“Can we go inside?” she asked. “I can’t stay— I’ll be found—”
“Who’ll find you?” Harry frowned.
“I—“
Whatever she was going to say was cut short, because a whisper travelled with the wind and chilling blue light hit her in the back, so bright that Harry let her go. She crumpled to the ground, holding her hands to her chest, screaming in pain.
Harry stared.
He knew that whisper on the wind, that one chilling whispered word—
He knew that blue light.
Most of all, he knew the curse to break the heart – literally…
Chapters
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26