Blast from the Past

Harry Potter apparated with a whoosh! inside his sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment, another long day of auror work completed. With Lord Voldemort defeated, Harry did not see much action, but fortunately for his career, there were always wizards causing trouble.

He walked into his living room and was greeted by a screeching noise. Hedwig was desperate to stretch her wings.

"Poor Hedwig," he cooed. "Here you go." He released the door latch and opened a nearby window. Hedwig flew out into the evening sky, flapping and soaring with delight. Harry watched her go and smiled. He went into his bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a Quidditch World Cup t-shirt that had seen better days. He flipped on the television and went into the kitchen to microwave a frozen dinner.

Harry had not received any owls from his friends in weeks, and he had been too busy to make any friends outside of work. As much as he enjoyed having his own place and making his own galleons, he wished there were somebody he could talk to.

Halfway into his favorite program, he heard a screeching sound outside. Hedwig? Back already? He shook his head in disbelief. The owl usually spent several hours out flying, usually not returning until morning.

It was not Hedwig at his window, however, but a large, magnificent eagle owl. The only people he could think of who used eagle owls were the Malfoys, and he could not imagine anyone in that family writing to him. Lucius had been expelled from the ministry in Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, and he had heard a rumor that the family had fallen into disarray since.

It crossed his mind that the letter the owl bore could be a threat or dangerous spell, so he took it cautiously and cast several charms on it to detect dark magic before turning it over to see the Malfoy family seal on the back.

The letter inside was on crisp, white paper that bore the Malfoy letterhead. The writing was small and scratchy, and Harry had trouble making it out before he remembered that he was not wearing his glasses. He slipped them out of his pocket and noticed that they were broken again. "Occulis reparo!" he said, pointing his wand at the broken frame. It was the most common spell Harry cast.

Harry,

I heard that you were working at the Ministry as an auror. I'm not surprised. Please meet me tonight at The Coiled Serpent at 8. We really need to talk.

Draco

Harry could not help but gawk. Draco Malfoy was writing to him? He thought back to the boy he knew in school, a bully, a rebel, a troublemaker. A boy who called one of his best friends a weasel and the other a mudblood. But a boy with a charming smirk and silky blond hair that he had always longed to touch... Harry shook his head. No, no... Not Draco, of all people. What am I thinking?

The Boy Who Lived had discovered early in his seventh year that he was gay. Those thoughts and feelings and desires had always been in the back of his mind and the forefront of his dreams, and he had always brushed them off as confusion or unfocused lust. He tried desperately to like girls, including a drawn-out pursuit of Cho Chang, a girl he still thought of fondly. Somehow, however, when the moment came to kiss them or touch them or commit, something in him froze. Something did not want him to continue. Instead, he would find himself looking at a boy across the room and find an excuse to leave, confused and miserable. But an awkward, fumbling, schoolboy kiss with Neville Longbottom, a friend of his who had merely been drunk and curious at the time, had made him realize the truth.

He had had only two relationships with men since his realization. He was too busy with work to pursue relationships and too concerned about his image to come out to the wizarding community as openly gay. He had spent the last two years living with only his aging owl for company and the friendships he still had with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who had married shortly after school ended.

And now Draco wanted to meet him. Draco, the student he hated above all others. Draco, the student who had starred in most of his wet dreams. Harry glanced at his muggle clock and realized that he only had 15 minutes to apparate to the pub.

He hurriedly checked himself over in the mirror, washing a spot of dirt from his cheek and combing his unruly hair over his ever-present (but slightly fading) scar. There was a glint of silver in the mirror from the small stud he wore in his earlobe, an effort to look a little less boyish and a little more cool. He changed into a slightly nicer t-shirt, threw on a flannel shirt and tennis shoes, and apparated about a block away from The Coiled Serpent.

***

Harry had never visited The Coiled Serpent, a place known as a gay bar that catered especially to Slytherins and Death Eaters. The sign outside featured a picture of a snake ready to strike. He glanced up and down the street and approached with his head low. Being seen entering a pub full of gay Death Eaters was not something he wanted to see on the front page of The Daily Prophet.

Inside, he was surprised by what he saw. The pub was gloomy but charming. It was full of overstuffed leather sofas and tables whose surfaces were scratched and worn from overuse. He smelled cigarettes and cigars mixed with an alluring scent of young men. The air was filled with laughter and softly playing jazz. He found himself enjoying the pub more and more as he approached the bar.

"Blimey," said the bartender, looking him over. "Are you Harry Potter?"

Harry blushed. A few men at the bar glanced up at the mention of his name and then returned to their conversations.

"Yessir," he muttered, blushing.

"Hey, no worries, mate! I was just asking. Everyone's welcome here."

Harry ordered a pint of lager and took a sip, enjoying the feel of the cold liquid running down his throat.

He glanced around the room and found himself transfixed on a figure sitting at the back of the bar whose eyes seemed to be boring through him.

Nervously, Harry rose from his barstool and approached the young man. "Um, Draco?" he said weakly.

"Sit," said the young man.

Harry sat at the table and found that it afforded him a better view of the man before him through the light of the candle between them. Draco's skin was still creamy white and his hair a shocking white blond, but it had now grown long and was tied in a ponytail. His clothes were stained and torn, but on Draco, they looked sexy and rugged and rebellious. Draco had a stud in his nose and several earrings in his ears, and he was casually smoking a filtered cigarette that he let dangle between his fingertips between drags.

"So, this is the famous Harry Potter," he said and laughed heartily. "Isn't that what I said to you in our first year?"

Harry chuckled. "Yes. I remember that."

"And you're still pretty famous, huh? And look at me. What a difference a few years make, huh?"

Harry fidgeted for a moment. Draco noticed his discomfort.

"You want to know why I asked you to meet me, right? 'What is Draco up to now?' 'What stunt is he trying to pull?' Maybe even 'Does Draco know what kind of pub this is, and if so, what is he doing here?' Am I right, Harry?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen you in years. I'm confused."

"You're still confused?" Draco said, laughing again. "I thought you figured it out in seventh year!"

Harry's face turned red, and he found he had become annoyed. "Look, tell me what you want. Now. Or I'm gone."

Draco's smile disappeared. He reached out and took Harry's hand. Draco's hands were no longer as soft and smooth, but the feel of Draco's skin against his made Harry's heart quicken. "Harry, I'm sorry. I was teasing. I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About a lot of things. About you, about me, about life... I've been away for a while now, Harry, and to be honest, I thought of you while I was gone. I wanted to see you again."

"You thought about me?"

"Only in a purely nonsexual way, of course," Draco winked. Harry's eyes widened.

Draco grinned. "Surely you understand that I'm gay, Harry, if I asked you to meet me here."

"Well, I thought that, maybe, um, yeah..." Harry faltered.

"I've known since I was about 11. But I didn't come out until I was 19."

"Why so late?" asked Harry, awkwardly trying to make conversation.

Draco almost choked on his beer. "And when did you come out, Harry?"

Harry turned red again. "Leave me out of this."

"Oh but Harry, don't you understand? You are this. You are why I'm here. I like you. I've liked you for years."

It was Harry's turn to choke on his beer. "You like me? Draco likes me?" He thought for a moment. "So, are you clinically insane, Draco? Are you off your medication?"

"Yes. As yet undiagnosed. And yes," said Draco with a wink. "Oh Harry, my dear boy, I know it's crazy. I know we weren't the best of friends in school. I know I was a jerk. I honestly apologize for that, Harry, I do. But I was a kid. A stupid kid. A kid trying to maintain his stupid bad boy image. Well, OK, I'm still doing that. But I'm not a jerk anymore."

Harry was silent. "So you like me. Hmmm."

Draco moved closer to Harry, sitting in the chair next to him. Harry could smell his musky scent, his cigarette, the beer on his breath. He could feel Draco's steel-gray eyes on him, his warm breath on the side of his face.

"And you don't like me, Harry? Is that it? You have a boyfriend?"

Harry turned red again and shifted in his chair. "I really don't want to talk about it, Draco."

"So little Harry Potter never did get out of that closet after all, I see," said Draco with a smirk.

Harry leapt up from the table. "Leave it alone, Malfoy!" he exclaimed. He walked out of the bar, shaken and confused.

He found himself outside on the street. The night had gotten colder, and the street lamps cast eerie white lights on the empty streets. He started walking down the sidewalk, faster and faster, not caring where he was going.

***

He arrived at his apartment half an hour later. He had no idea how he had ended up there. His teeth were chattering, and his hands were stiff with cold. He fumbled with his key in the lock, muttering under his breath.

The door creaked open to reveal Draco Malfoy lounging in his armchair, pushing buttons on the remote control, clearly confused at the strange messages that were appearing on the box.

"Draco? What on earth are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Trying to figure this thing out. I keep getting menus and error messages. And for a while, it was ear-splittingly loud. How on earth do you work this thing? Or is there a spell for it or something?"

Harry stalked over to Draco angrily, grabbing the remote from his hands and hitting the Off button. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Harry, you're freezing!" said Draco, concerned. "Sit down, let me get you some coffee or something."

"You don't live here, Draco. It's my place. How did you get in?"

Draco sputtered for a moment and then fell silent.

"Harry," he said quietly, keeping a safe distance between them. "I'm truly sorry. But I... I'm sorry. I was worried. You stormed out of there, and I knew I'd upset you. And some part of my brain knew that sneaking in here would only upset you more, but I had to. Please forgive me, Harry. I'll leave if you want me to, but I'd really like it if we could just talk, one on one, just for a minute."

Harry sighed and motioned for Draco to sit next to him on the sofa. "OK, for a minute."

"Harry... I know it's a sensitive subject for you, but please tell me the honest truth. Are you gay?"

"Yeah."

"And you haven't come out?"

"No."

"May I ask why not?"

Harry looked at his hands. "I just... I just can't. Sometimes I think I should, but somehow, I can't. I think a lot of it is because I'm so well known. I got so tired of having every little thing I did bandied about by every wizard and witch and plastered all over the newspapers. And now... I know I'm known as an auror, but I just don't want any more dirt dragged up. I just want to live without all that for a while. It's been nice."

Draco scratched his chin. "I completely understand your position. But if I may say so, my coming out was much worse than yours could ever be, and I don't regret it."

"Why was it so bad?"

"Two words: Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh," said Harry. "Yeah."

"He got kicked out of the Ministry, so he was in a constantly lousy mood. Yet I still had to tell him, knowing how bad things would be when I did. I just couldn't live in his shadow anymore. I just couldn't be a poor little downtrodden Death Eater with no power, desperately clinging to the last shreds of dignity I had under the Malfoy name. I had to be me."

"And I guess he didn't take it well?"

"No," chuckled Draco. "The nicest thing he did was kick me out, disown me. The rest... Well, I still have the scars."

Harry looked at him, suddenly seeing Draco as a person with problems and hopes and fears. A person with a heart.

"Dark magic leaves a lot of scars," he said, brushing his hand against his own.

"Yeah," sighed Draco, leaning back on the sofa.

"But what have you been doing since then?" asked Harry, looking at Draco's scruffy shirt.

"I've been around. Here and there. Honestly, it hasn't been pretty. But I stopped taking drugs about a year ago. I stopped tricking. Now I just... Bum around."

Harry gasped. Drugs? Tricking? "Draco, I had no idea. I'm so sorry." He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to put his arm around the man next to him. He had longed to touch his hair for years.

Draco seemed to sense Harry's interest in him and moved closer to him. "It's OK, Harry," he whispered.

Harry reached up and touched the young man's hair with a trembling hand and found that it was still silky despite its badly needing a trim.

Draco smiled. "You're uncomfortable, aren't you? Is it because it's me, or is it general?"

"Mostly you," Harry admitted. "I've only been involved with two guys, though, so I'm inexperienced."

"I can help you there," said Draco, winking. Harry shifted in his seat. Draco leaned back again. "Harry, I don't want to tell you what to do, but I think you should come out. Does nobody know you're gay?"

"No, nobody. Except those two guys I dated."

"Not even Ron and Hermione? If you still talk to them?"

Harry had rarely, if ever, heard Draco say Ron's actual first name. And he had spoken both names as if it was completely normal, without a hint of scorn or disgust. He smiled.

"Not even them. I've become a very private person, more so than usual."

"Well, what happens when you fall in love and want to marry some guy, Harry? No one will be at your wedding. Your own best friends will miss such a special day in your life just because you couldn't tell them your new lover happened to be male."

"I know," muttered Harry.

"And odds are, they probably know anyway. After all, I did."

Harry looked at him. "You did? I mean, I thought you might if you had the courage to invite me to a gay bar and tell me you liked me, but..."

"Yeah, I've known since probably sixth year. Well, I guessed in sixth year, anyway. Call it gaydar. Call it noticing how uncomfortable you were with girls and the way you looked at other boys. Anyone who pays much attention to you would notice. I wasn't the only one of my friends who figured it out."

Harry blushed. "Oh. Heh heh. Well. Maybe I should tell them then, huh?"

"Yeah, you should, Harry. Now, let's talk about us for a second... Oh, don't get that stricken expression on your face. Harry, do you like me?"

Harry nodded. "I have for a long time. I used to dream about you. I still do."

"Ooh, naughty dreams?" asked Draco, grinning.

Harry giggled. "Yeah."

"Me too, Harry. As I say, it's why I came back. I'd been bumming around England and the United States for a while, and no matter what I did or where I went, I kept seeing your face whenever I closed my eyes. I knew it was about time I found you and at least got closure. At least told you how I felt and get it out of my system."

Harry suddenly found himself kissing Draco, his lips pressed softly to the other man's. Draco kissed him back, pulling him closer with a gentle movement.

"Draco," Harry breathed.

Draco pulled away softly and relunctantly. "It's late, Harry. You have work tomorrow. I should leave you now."

"No, please," exclaimed Harry. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

Draco chuckled. "Don't worry about me. I always find a place to crash."

Harry glanced around. "This is a place, isn't it? You can crash here. I mean, it's not much, but..."

Draco laughed. "It's a palace compared with some of the places I've been sleeping in."

Harry looked concerned. "Please don't talk like that. It makes me worry about you."

"Aww, how sweet," said Draco. "Please don't worry. I've been looking after myself just fine. And I think I'd rather not sleep here. It's nothing personal. I just don't want this to turn into... that. Not that it necessarily would, but... I just don't want the temptation there." He laughed. "That sounds really weird coming from someone like me."

Harry grinned. "It sounds nice, actually. But I still worry. At least let me give you some money for a hotel room or something. Please?"

"I'm OK, Harry. Really. I'll drop by tomorrow, maybe?"

"OK," said Harry, and hugged him. "Sleep well."

"You too, Harry," said Draco, kissing his hand gallantly. He swept out of the apartment as graceful as a cat, grinning.

Harry was left alone on the sofa, still tasting Draco on his lips and smelling his scent in the air around him. He leaned back and sighed.