Draco and Harry: Escorts Abandoned

Chapter Two

Draco watched Harry leave, feeling bereft. He sat down again and morosely finished his tea before washing the cups and putting them away. He took the stairs to "his" room and was not surprised to find everything just as he had left it. His clothes were still in the wardrobe and his second favorite comb rested on the dressing table. No wonder Harry had been frantic. Draco had never meant to be gone so long. It was all a huge mistake. And something more, something he could not quite remember.

Draco had the sudden, overwhelming impression of wrongness--of something he desperately needed to resolve. He needed Harry's help. God, he just needed Harry.

Resolutely, he marched to the door that joined his room to Harry's, intending to confess everything and beg forgiveness. To hell with pride.

He stopped short when the door revealed an empty room. Draco advanced slowly into the room, stunned. Harry had moved. The bed was barren of blankets and the desk was clear of all items. The pile of shirts Harry had stacked on a chair after Draco had torn the buttons off was gone.

Draco walked forward and trailed his fingers over the stark dressing table. They came away with a light coating of dust. How long since Harry had moved out, unable to deal with the memories? A month? Two? Draco felt a fresh surge of pain. For a moment, he considering rushing through the house and snatching open doors to find Potter, but he grimaced at the thought. Evidently he still had too much pride, after all.

He left the empty space and went down to his favorite room--the study. He lit a fire to dispel the chill, and then sat and watched the flames while he tried to remember when it all went wrong. He was asleep long before he had the slightest inkling.

ooOoo

Harry couldn't sleep. He knew he should nap if they were to fly through the night all the way to Scotland, but he could not halt his racing thoughts enough to relax. He had sent owls to Hermione and Lupin with a vague explanation of where he was going. Lupin and Tonks were visiting Nymphadora's father with their newborn daughter.

Harry sighed and tried to focus on their mission. Frankly, it didn't seem that dangerous, but then Harry had a lot of experience destroying artifacts of evil. How much worse than a Horcrux could this thing be?

Draco was back. That simple thought kept short-circuiting Harry's concentration. He slid his legs off the edge of the bed and sat up. He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees while he rubbed his aching temples. Where the hell had the Slytherin been for six months?

With Pansy Parkinson? Harry wondered where Pansy was now. Waiting for Draco to return, as Harry had waited? Pacing the floor of her room until the retrospection became unbearable?

Harry jerked to his feet and walked to the window. The late May morning was beautiful--a strange counterpoint to Harry's turbulent emotions. He would have expected Malfoy to return on a thunder-ridden, rainy night. Harry sighed and dropped the curtain. The view was better from here--his new room on the fourth floor--but the place still did not feel like home. At least there were no memories of Draco to haunt him.

Harry needed answers. He needed to get over his anger and hear the truth, no matter how painful it might be. He went downstairs and peered into Malfoy's old room. It was empty.

For a moment Harry felt a flash of panic--what would he do if Draco had left again? He nearly ran down the stairs to the study and stopped short at the sight of his beautiful Slytherin asleep on one corner of the sofa.

He snorted softly at his own thoughts. His Slytherin.

Harry walked into the room, thankful that he was still barefoot, and sank into a chair across from Malfoy. Draco's head lolled against his bicep in a contorted position that looked decidedly uncomfortable. His long, white-blonde hair covered the lower half of his face and moved slightly with each breath. Pale lashes lay against his perfect cheeks.

Harry remembered the dozens of times those silver eyes had opened and glinted wickedly at him--the times those lips had kissed him and murmured sweet endearments.

I love you, he had said once. Only once, but it had been sufficient. What had happened to that feeling? What the hell had gone wrong?

Though he felt the knife in his heart twist with every rise and fall of Draco's chest, Harry sat and watched Malfoy sleep until the shadows in the room lengthened and the fire burned itself out.

When the darkness was nearly complete, Draco's eyes opened. Harry registered the change in his breathing first and waited soundlessly while the blonde Slytherin sat up and massaged his neck with a groan--the awkward position had obviously taken its toll.

Draco froze when he noticed Harry. Malfoy's slim throat worked in a swallow and then he sighed.

"We should have left by now."

"It's earlier than it seems," Harry replied, not bothering to add that Draco should remember the study was darker than the rest of the house.

Malfoy stood and worked the kinks out of his spine with a graceful stretch that Harry bitterly admired, acknowledging that his irrational lust for Draco had not diminished in the slightest. He got to his feet abruptly, realizing he should have gathered supplies instead of staring at Draco all afternoon.

"Did you sleep?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes," Harry lied and wondered why Draco had even bothered to ask. "I'll meet you on the roof in a bit."

He avoided Draco's stare and went out.

ooOoo

They flew over London and northward in the dark. Nothing passed between them except a single, timeless glance when they crossed over Norwich. Draco would have spoken then, but Harry's glare silenced him. Draco wondered if Potter regretted everything that had happened between them since Norwich. They had been so happy once. Was Harry sorry for that, also?

They halted at dawn for a short rest and a bracing cup of tea. Harry looked exhausted and Draco realized Potter had lied to him about sleeping. He wondered how long Harry had been sitting in the study, watching him, and wondered what thoughts had been spinning under Potter's thatch of black hair.

Draco studied him as Harry clutched his cup in both hands to warm them from the morning chill. Potter took a drink and winced as the liquid scalded his tongue.

Harry's hair was longer and even more unruly. It nearly covered the emerald eyes and completely obscured the tops of Harry's eyeglass frames. Potter's chiseled cheeks were a bit too pronounced--he was overly thin again. Draco felt a pang, knowing he was to blame for that, also.

Harry's lips were still perfect, though, where they touched the rim of the cup--pink and kissable...

"Don't," Harry said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that."

Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to touch his eyes and he raked a heated gaze over Harry that caused the Gryffindor to stand up with an oath. Harry gulped his tea, even though it had to burn all the way down.

"Let's go," Harry choked, tossing the dregs and jamming his cup back into his pack. He stalked to his broom and hovered impatiently while Draco put his items away in a more leisurely fashion. Malfoy felt slightly cheered to know that he could still affect Harry with a glance.

Perhaps all was not completely lost.

ooOoo

They had to fly more carefully once daylight had brightened their path. They stayed low and avoided Muggle-populated areas. They halted once more, just past midday, for a brief meal Harry had packed along.

Draco built a fire for tea and they sat across from each other with the flickering heat between them.

"I looked for you for weeks," Harry said suddenly, staring fixedly into the flames and poking at the embers with a stick. "Tonks tried to help, but it was getting close to her time." Potter's voice was heavy with recrimination. Draco had missed the birth of his own cousin's child--another tick mark on the long list of Malfoy's transgressions. "She asked her Auror friends for help..."

Draco laughed inwardly at that. Not many Aurors would volunteer to spend their off-hours searching for a lost Malfoy.

"It was as though you had disappeared. Your London flat was empty, as was the Manor. I was bloody frantic until I got your note."

Draco's head snapped up.

"I sent you a note?"

Harry glared at him. Potter reached into a pocket and handed Malfoy a tattered piece of parchment. Draco took it, noticing the fold lines, as if it had been opened and shut hundreds of times. Draco saw his own handwriting in the terse script. Harry, stop looking for me.

Draco's jaw clenched. There was no doubt he had written it. But why could he not remember doing so? He refolded the note, though he felt like crushing it in his fist and hurling it into the fire. How the hell could he have hurt Harry so deeply? Was he fucking insane?

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Draco began, but Potter spoke over him and Malfoy did not think Harry heard him.

"Your human house-elf has been by several times."

"Who?" Draco asked.

"Maeve. Apparently her devotion to you has not wavered."

"Unlike yours, eh?" Malfoy asked dryly. He instantly regretted his words as Harry got to his feet, looking enraged.

"Perhaps you should have Obliviated my memory, also!" Harry snapped. "In fact, when this is over, I think I'll let you!"

He stalked to his broom and rocketed into the air. Draco tucked the note into his pocket and kicked angrily at the fire until the embers smoldered into a flickering arc and threatened to catch the grass afire. His frustration not abated, Draco conjured water and drowned every ember. He glanced up to see Harry hovering high overhead, barely visible.

Malfoy slung on his pack, mounted his broom, and went to join his angry partner, wondering when the hell he had lost his ability to always say the right thing.