Found, Never Lost

Chapter 9: Unfinished Business

Sunday, June 20, 2004
Aquarium Berlin, around 15:00

Draco glanced at Harry and asked himself for the tenth time in as many minutes what to do or say next. It looked like they were nearing the end of their tour and they had spent the past twenty minutes gazing into an assortment of smaller tanks, which required them to stand rather close to each other unless they wanted to take turns looking.

Combined with the warm gloom, the constant bumping into and brushing against each other was having a rather intense effect on Draco, and he found himself clasping his hands behind his back to keep them from accidentally ending up somewhere on Potter - who was currently pointing at the tank in front of them in which a seahorse, hitched onto the slender stalk of an aquatic plant, was watching over his swarm of tiny fry.

"Only confirmed case of male pregnancies I have ever heard of," he said, grinning.

Draco sniggered. "I still can't believe you fell for that one." He shook his head. "Men having babies. Honestly, Potter!"

"Is there a reason why you have to call me Potter?" Harry looked at him with a peculiar expression. "As far as I remember, we were on first names the last time we met."

Yes, we were. At school. Before you turned around and walked out of my life, Draco thought, feeling a cold hand reaching for his heart. And wasn't it peculiar how things could change from warm contentment to angry sorrow in the blink of an eye?

He shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I suppose," was all he could say before he had to very firmly shut his mouth because he was not sure what would come out next: something bitter - or something sad.

oOoOoOoOoOo

They hadn't spoken much after leaving the aquarium, and for the first time since they had met again, the silence felt... charged. It made Harry nervous. And judging from Draco's face, he wasn't particularly happy, either. He looked brooding, Harry thought after a side-ways glance at him, which wasn't much of a surprise considering the kind of conver-sation they were probably headed for. Still, he wished he could do with Draco what he did when he had butted heads with Star: slide an arm around his waist, pull him close and ask him what was wrong, tell him to relax, that they would work things out...

But of course this was Draco, not Star. And since he'd never had to deal with a tense and unhappy Draco outside their relationship, he had no idea what to do. On the other hand: just this morning he had thought how much courage Draco had shown by seeking him out. All the more since he, Harry, had not made much of an effort to get in touch with him after leaving the Wizarding world. Why had Draco come if not to resolve their issues, one way or the other?

He glanced at Draco again, who still looked lost in thought. For a moment, Harry felt tempted to just open his mouth, say what was on his mind and be done with it, but some-thing told him that Draco needed an active part in that conversation - and that he might have to nudge him a little to get there. Maybe it was time to get reacquainted with his inner Slytherin...

Café Hardenberg, approximately 16:30

"So how are you holding up in the Muggle world?" Potter asked after the waiter had brought their food and disappeared. They were back at the place where they'd had lunch Saturday, at the same table in the window niche. Had it really been only one day? It felt much longer to Draco.

"It's... not as bad as I expected."

"Less exhausting than London?"

"Yes, but only because you are marginally less exhausting than Granger." He smirked at Harry who grinned and started rolling spaghetti around his fork. "I don't know how you can stand the noise and the dirt and the crowds, though. And everything seems so... complicated."

Harry shrugged. "I got used to it."

"Do you like it better here than in London?" Draco asked hesitantly.

Harry chewed, looking thoughtful.

"I don't know," he said after he had swallowed a mouthful of pasta. "It's not a bad place to live. Better than many I've seen." An odd expression flickered across his face. "It defi-nitely beats Grimmauld Place."

"What's that?"

"A house in London. Gloomy and depressing place, really. The boggart sneaks back in no matter how much you laugh at him, the Doxies breed faster than you can brew Doxycide, and Heaven help you if you ever wake up one of the portraits in the hall. That woman will scream bloody murder until doomsday unless you shut her up. And she can't be removed because of some unbreakable sticking charm." Harry grimaced.

Draco frowned. "Sounds unpleasant. Why would you want to stay there?"

Harry looked at him intently. "I had to. We used it as headquarters until the Order was disbanded."

Not for the first time since yesterday, Draco suddenly found it hard to breathe. He returned Potter's gaze as coolly as he could and took a sip of wine.

"That's where you went after you left that day. In seventh year."

Harry nodded, and for some reason, all the anger and frustration and fear Draco had felt after Harry had walked out on him rushed through him in a white-hot blaze of misery and fury. Yes, he had been an idiot back then, and yes, he felt sorry for many things he had or had not said and done, but he was not the one who had left and never looked back.

It took him every ounce of self-control he possessed to stay calm. He sat his glass back down and breathed deeply.

Different priorities.

"Tell me something, Potter," he picked up his knife and fork again and continued to eat despite his stomach's vehement protest, "do you ever... miss your friends?"

God, Harry, we miss you so, Hermione had said yesterday, and the guilt Harry had felt at her words returned forcefully.

"Of course I miss them."

"Hmm. I see. That's why you're in touch so frequently."

"I write to Hermione."

"Once in a blue moon. And you never leave a return address. Not very Gryffindor of you, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth for a sharp retort but managed to restrain himself. After all, he had a good idea what was eating at Draco - and he wanted him to let it out. Getting defensive and pointing out that Draco hadn't done much to find him, either, wouldn't accomplish anything.

Unfinished business.

He picked up his glass and took a drink. "Is this about me not contacting you when I was back at Hogwarts? After everything was over?" he asked quietly and avoided eye contact with Draco as he sat the glass back down, wanting to give him a moment of privacy to ponder the question. He meant to clarify what they were talking about, not provoke him. This dis-cussion would be challenging enough with an open-minded Draco. Push him into a corner and they would get nowhere.

When Draco didn't say anything, he reached for his fork and looked up again.

The expression on Draco's face told him what he needed to know.

"I asked around about you after we returned, but nobody at school knew where you were," he said as evenly as he could, then gave Draco a tentative smirk. "I guess I could have owled your mother, but I doubt she would have been very accommodating."

"Probably not," Draco conceded grudgingly and forced another bite down his throat before he put the cutlery down and pushed his plate aside with an impatient gesture. "I guess it did not occur to you to use your friends at the Ministry to obtain such informa-tion, did it?"

For a split second, Harry felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under him. He stared at Draco and his thoughts must have shown on his face because Draco's icy expression was replaced by a look of incredulity.

"You never thought of using the Ministry?"

"No." Harry swallowed. "I... didn't. I was too..."

He willed himself to open the mental door a bit wider and let a few more memories back in.

"You don't know what is was like those last few days... before it was all over. I don't remember the final... confrontation. Actually, I don't remember much. Of anything. Not anymore, anyway. All I know is that I was there and that it was terrifying and the most horrible thing I ever had to do in my life," he said slowly through a sudden tightness in his throat. "After... the trials were over, my nightmares became so bad that Remus con-tacted McGonagall and suggested to extract the worst memories and put a blocking charm on me. I was so messed up that I couldn't think of something so simple myself."

He reached under his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "But a memory block only keeps you from thinking. It doesn't change... feelings. It can take your mind off things, but... I don't know... I guess your body still remembers." He shuddered. "When I first returned to Hogwarts, I had my N.E.W.T.s to concentrate on. And the trials. And after that, I tried to stay busy at school. But nothing helped. And then I thought that maybe time away would make it better, but it had to be somewhere... completely away. From everything. So I owled Remus the memory phials and left instructions how to contact me in case of an emergency. And then I sent Hedwig to stay with Hermione..."

"The w... Lupin knew where you were?"

Harry shook his head. "No. He just knew how to get word to me in case, I don't know, somebody took seriously ill or died or something."

Draco gazed out the window, fiddling with his wine glass, trying to digest all this infor-mation and to decide how he felt about it. He started when he felt a touch and looked down, surprised to find Harry's hand next to his.

"I'm sorry I cut you off," Harry said quietly, his eyes fixed on Draco's. "I didn't mean to... hurt you." He felt his face heat up at saying something so mushy, but it was the truth and Draco needed to hear it.

Draco averted his gaze but didn't move his hand. "I still don't understand why you stayed away."

Harry flinched at the bitterness in Draco's voice. True, if he had really put some thought and effort into it back then, he could have found Draco and their lives would have been different. He would never have met Star and would have no idea what it meant to be an adult in the Muggle world; he would not have learned to do such mundane - and fun - things as driving a car and he wouldn't know that riding a motorcycle felt almost as good as flying; and very likely he still would not know what it meant to hold a job and pay bills. In other words, he would have never grown up.

Grown up...

"I needed to grow up," he said and slowly withdrew his hand, trailing his fingers along Draco's. "Suppose we had met right after the trials. Do you think we could have just picked up where we left off? I seriously doubt it."

Draco stared at him, torn between anger and something he could not quite grasp. Sorrow? Regret?

"That's not the point," he said finally and didn't care if Harry heard the frustration in his voice. "The point is that you didn't bother to let me know any of this. And don't give me that 'I couldn't find you' shit. You could have left a message somewhere. Or with some-body. Fuck, Harry, what were you thinking?"

He squeezed the bridge of his nose in an imitation of one of Harry's typical gestures, wondering how on earth they were going to make it through this dragon's lair of a con-versation without getting burnt to a crisp.

Harry looked at him for a long moment.

"I thought you wouldn't exactly be happy to hear from the bloke who helped put an end to your... family's dreams of a pureblood society or whatever. I helped track down your father's, erm, associates and their families, remember? Oh, and let's not forget, your father himself. And I was damn sorry that they couldn't put him away for life."

He took a deep breath. "I just didn't think we had a chance. I was too... drained after everything. I needed peace and quiet and time to think. If you had seen what I have..." A pained expression flashed across his face and he swallowed hard before he continued. "There was a very good reason for that memory block, believe me. You're right, I didn't make much of an effort to find you, and I'm sorry that I left you hanging, but I didn't know what else to do."

A small frown appeared on Draco's face. "In other words, you thought I wouldn't want anything to do with you after the war and would just move on with my life," he said.

Harry shrugged. "According to everything I heard and from what I read in the papers, that's what you did after I first left to join the Order. You had all the more reason to do so after everything was over."

Draco gaped at him, momentarily speechless.

"God, Draco, what was I supposed to think? You went back to Pansy in a heartbeat after our bond was dissolved. Was it so implausible to think you'd do it again? Especially since we didn't exactly part on friendly terms?"

Mordred, what a fucking mess! Draco thought and rubbed his eyes. "Of course, it didn't occur to you that people and papers could have got things wrong. Seeing as it has never happened before," he said sarcastically.

"You asked what I was thinking," Harry pointed out. "I'm telling you what I was think-ing. How was I supposed to know better?"

"You could have asked me," Draco all but snarled.

"No, I couldn't!" Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "That's what I'm trying to get through to you. I was completely out of it after the trials. And I was too... call it imma-ture or ignorant or whatever you want. The only thing I could come up with was to leave. I made that choice and I don't regret it. I just wish I could have grown up a little faster."

"Did it never occur to you that I could be worried about you?" Draco blurted out and winced inwardly. Why on earth would he ask such a sissyish question? Granger must have rubbed off on him!

"Is that why you've come here?" Now Harry looked at him with that same strange expres-sion he used to have in school, when he seemed to be searching Draco's face for some-thing, and Draco felt his mouth go dry. Was that why he was here? Well, yes, in part it was. Of course, there was also that thing where he needed to admit that he'd been at least as immature or ignorant as Harry, but he didn't feel quite ready for that yet.

"I wanted to know how you are."

"A simple phone call could have told you that."

"True," Draco said and swallowed. "I guess I just needed to see for myself that you are all right."

Harry cocked his head at him and held his gaze for a long moment before he nodded. To Draco's relief, he didn't ask further questions. Instead, his face suddenly took on a mis-chievous expression.

"That was very Gryffindor of you, you know? To just show up here like that."

And he gave Draco one of those smiles that used to warm Draco's heart so much - still did, as a matter of fact, because he had never seen Harry smile like this at anybody else, and that he did so now told Draco more than his many words. Suddenly iron bands seemed to melt off Draco's chest and he could breathe freely again.

"Yeah, well, must be because I was married to one once. Apparently the incubation period is seven years." The quip wasn't terribly witty and his voice felt a little unstable, but it was all right.

Harry chuckled. "I'm glad you're here," he said.

And somewhere in the depths of Draco's mind, hope, with a gleeful whoop, threw off the remnants of fear and anger. A smile grew on his face and the words "Me too" came to his lips before pride or any of the other troublemakers could interfere.

With relief, Harry watched Draco's expression soften and his frosty look disappear. "Still mad at me?" he asked with a little smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll get over it," he said with a shrug, and if there was still an edge to his voice, that was only to be expected. It told Harry that whatever had happened to Draco over the past seven years, it hadn't affected his stubbornness - which was a reas-suring thought. Harry had a feeling that Draco would need it.

"So you're still going to spend the week with me?" he asked and didn't care if he sounded longing or wistful or even pleading. And he didn't try to hide his elation when the answer was a puzzled-sounding, "Why wouldn't I?"

Berlin-Charlottenburg, early evening

Harry stood in the hall, heard soft music and muted voices coming from Star's room and realised that he did not feel like company right now. He glanced at the kitchen clock. It was barely past seven. What was he doing home so early? And what was he going to do with the rest of the evening? He knew he wouldn't find much peace sitting in his room, wondering what Draco was doing all by himself.

With a sigh, he turned around and walked back out. An hour was enough time to make the eight o'clock show at the Odeon. He had no idea which film was playing, but it didn't matter. He would sit in the dark for two hours and try not to worry about Draco. Or think about Draco's arms around him. Or wish that Draco were with him. He would be a stranger among strangers and their nameless presences would soothe him, as they always did. And then he would take a very long walk to sort out his tumultuous emotions.

Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, later that night

Draco curled around his pillow and tried to will himself to sleep, but he couldn't get com-fortable. The alarm clock showed past ten o'clock. There were too many noises around him, a hundred thoughts in his head, and flashes of the past bright in the dark. And the bed was too cold and his arms too empty, and he didn't understand why it was making him this miserable. He was used to sleeping alone. After all, he'd been doing it for the most part of seven years and it really hadn't bothered him. Well, not all that much. Most of the time, anyway.

Maybe he shouldn't have pulled Harry close when he dropped him off at the hotel, no matter how brief the embrace. But it had been impossible not to steal this small touch, even though he had known it would leave him desperately longing for knowing hands on his skin, gentle lips on his mouth, Harry's warm body against his back...

He pushed his face into the pillow and tightened his arms around it and ordered himself to be still, to clench his teeth and not let out the little noise, that needy whimper that was lurking in the back of his throat, waiting for a chance to break free and make him feel utterly pathetic.