When I Look to the Sky

When it rains it pours and opens doors

And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry

And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love

That have to say goodbye

And as I float along this ocean I can feel you like a notion that won’t seem to let me go

Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you’re here with me

And you make everything alright

And when I feel like I’m lost something tells me you’re here with me

And I can always find my way when you are here

And every word I didn’t say that caught up in some busy day

And every dance on the kitchen floor we didn’t dance before

And every sunset that we’ll miss I’ll wrap them all up in a kiss

And pick you up in all of this when I sail away

Whether I am up or down or in or out or just plane overhead

Instead it just feels like it is impossible to fly

But with you I can spread my wings to see me over everything that life may send me

When I am hoping it won’t pass me by

And when I feel like there is no one that will ever know me there you are to show me

Train

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. The shadows of raindrops on the window streaked down his face like tears. But he hadn’t cried. Not yet. Because there was no reason to. His fingers absently worked the small piece of fabric as his mind wandered amidst his memories.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Hedwig had shown up with the bit of Harry’s scarf. She was agitated and impatient and left as soon as she’d had some water and food. And Draco hadn’t seen her since. But it was okay because he had the scarf. It was their “I’m okay” sign.

Whenever Harry left on a mission they would agree to some small sign to indicate that all was well. Usually, Hedwig would bring the trinket and Draco would accept it and Harry was home by the next morning. Draco had become used to this routine and he took it for granted. Harry’s missions were never routine, difficult but not really dangerous. But not this time. This time he had walked into a trap. Or so Kingsley Shacklebolt had informed him.

But still, Draco had the scarf. So he knew that Harry was okay. Because it was their “I’m okay” sign.

He watched the sky each night for Hedwig’s return. He really believed that if anything else had gone wrong, Harry would have found a way to send a message. He thought he would know, would be able to feel if anything had happened. So he watched the sky each night, hoping that somewhere Harry was watching the same sky and would be home soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco opened the door wearily. It had been a long day at the Ministry. He wondered to himself what he’d be doing right now if he’d never walked away from his family. Even though Voldemort had been defeated and most of the Death Eaters captured, Lucius had managed to escape punishment once again. Had he never denounced his father, Draco would probably be sitting down to a sumptuous meal after a leisurely day. Instead, he was dead tired and it looked like Harry wasn’t even home yet. The lights were out and no smells wafted in from the kitchen.

“Fuck. It was his turn to cook tonight.”

“Hi.” Draco jumped and turned at the sound of Harry’s voice. He was sitting in his favourite corner chair, in the dark.

“What are you doing? Why didn’t you cook dinner?”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“What happened today?”

“Had a meeting with Kingsley. He turned me down.”

“Oh.”

Draco knew what Harry meant. Somehow, in the fracas immediately after Voldemort had been destroyed, Bellatrix Lestrange had escaped. Harry was tormented with the thought that she was freely roaming the countryside, never having paid for the deaths she had caused. Shortly before the final showdown with Voldemort, the Aurors had captured Peter Pettigrew. Under intense interrogation he had admitted his role in the death of Harry’s parents, in Sirius’s imprisonment and ultimately, in all of Voldemort’s plans. It was because of his testimony that Harry and the Order had been able to pinpoint Voldemort’s location and catch him by surprise.

More importantly to Harry, however, was that he’d been present when Pettigrew was sent through the Veil. The Ministry no longer had the questionable loyalty and services of the Dementors. The Wizengamot had decided that sending condemned witches and wizards to their deaths via the Veil in the Department of Mysteries was both a suitable and humane replacement. Harry had wanted to see him suffer. He didn’t think Pettigrew was good enough to share Sirius’s fate. But at least he had been there and looked the pathetic excuse for a wizard in the eye before he took his final step.

Most of Harry’s time after that was spent tracking down Bellatrix. He had worked hard to find her, chasing her magical signature all over Europe. And finally, after more than a year, they had located her. And the Aurors were prepped to make the capture. Harry wanted to be there to make sure it happened. He wanted to witness her interrogation. He wanted to see her suffer.

But Kingsley had turned down Harry’s request to go on the mission. And Draco knew how important this was to Harry. They had been over this time after time. Draco thought Harry shouldn’t be so intimately involved with his Aunt Bella’s capture. Not that he had any familial feelings towards her, but he knew what desperate, cornered Death Eaters were capable of. Harry thought Draco couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to see the man you considered a father die right in front of you. After all, Draco’s father was still alive, even if they never spoke.

Draco just couldn’t stomach the thought of another row. He was tired, hungry, and annoyed that Harry still persisted on this issue. He knew what to do when Harry got like this. Draco would leave him alone to sit in the dark, tormented by his thoughts. There was no reasoning with Harry when he got like this. It was best to let him stew and in the morning they would act like it never happened.

Why didn’t I say anything to him then? I should have tried to talk to him. I shouldn’t have left him alone. Maybe I would have been able to convince him to let his colleagues handle it. Maybe if I’d said something then he wouldn’t have left without telling anyone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smiling to himself, Harry watched Draco move about the kitchen, humming a tune from the radio. It had been a particularly good day for them.

It was Draco’s birthday and he’d carefully chosen the day’s activities. They had risen early and enjoyed a long, leisurely fuck. In the early afternoon, they had attended a Wimbourne Wasps - Montrose Magpies Quidditch match. It had been an exceptionally quick match, only lasting two hours. Originally, they had planned to stay the night in Montrose. Harry had booked a reservation at a small inn. He had wanted to take Draco to a small Chinese restaurant for dinner. They had the most lovely roast duck with plum sauce.

But when the match had ended early, Draco had changed his mind. He decided he really just wanted to go home. He wasn’t sick or angry or tired, he just didn’t feel like staying in Montrose. Harry was slightly disappointed but did not protest the change of plans.

When they arrived home, Draco had surprised Harry by pulling him down onto the couch for a cuddle. Draco was not normally affectionate. He did not easily part with kisses and hugs. He was not one for whispering sweet nothings into Harry’s ear. He could be very vocal during sex but then his words were rough and crude. Harry, who had not been exposed to great amounts of affection, did not expect to enjoy the small bits he did occasionally receive from Draco. He found that he treasured those moments, those small encounters when Draco truly shared himself with Harry. So when Draco collapsed onto the sofa and pulled Harry down with him, Harry was deeply pleased.

They talked about all kinds of things. Their years at Hogwarts, their Quidditch rivalry, how Draco had denounced his family at the beginning of 7th year, how their friendship had developed and grown into so much more. They mused about their friend’s lives and marriages and families. And finally, as the room began to darken and the late afternoon sun faded to twilight, they started to talk about the future. Harry was feeling warm and tingly when Draco finally rose from the couch.

“I need the loo. And I’m hungry. How about some pasta?”

“Sounds great. With Bolognese sauce? I love the way you make it.”

“It’s from a jar, Harry.”

“Well then, I love the way you heat it up.”

Draco chuckled and made his way into the kitchen. Harry remained on the couch, deep in thought about their discussion. What did the future hold for him? For them? Now that Bellatrix Lestrange was back in Ministry custody, he felt ready to embrace his future. And that future most definitely included Draco. Who was currently making dinner.

Harry rose and crept silently into the kitchen. He loved to watch Draco cook. Draco’s aristocratic upbringing meant that he was not as experienced in the culinary arts as Harry. When they left Hogwarts and moved into their first flat, Harry had patiently taught Draco how to cook. And Draco was a fast learner, probably because he likened cooking to potion making. Soon, Draco became the more accomplished cook of the two. Harry enjoyed watching Draco cook because it was the only really nurturing thing he did. He loved to surprise Harry with new and exotic cuisine. But Harry’s taste usually ran towards the simple, easy meals. And Draco was just as happy to make those for Harry.

The Wizarding Wireless Network was playing softly in the background. Although their flat was in a Muggle part of London and full of Muggle technology, they had incorporated many things from the wizarding world. Celestina Warbeck was singing a slow love song. Draco hummed along with it.

Harry suddenly felt the urge to dance with him. They never did romantic things like that. Harry was not the best dancer and Draco hated public displays of affection. Nevertheless, Harry crossed the floor and stood behind Draco. “Dance with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Dance with me.”

“Here? Now? Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Harry, the sauce is boiling over and the pasta is done just the way you like it. Not right now, maybe later.”

“But you never dance with me.”

“Because you’re not a very good dancer.”

Harry laughed and threw a dishtowel at Draco’s head. Draco caught it deftly, using it to grab the pot handle and drain the pasta.

They sat down to their simple meal and enjoyed a bottle of Chianti. And shortly thereafter, Harry forgot all about the dancing. Or at least he didn’t mention it again.

Why didn’t I dance with him then? Would it have killed me to hold my lover for those few minutes it would have taken to please him? So what if the dinner had been ruined? You can’t get those moments back, especially when you would give anything in the world for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later, Harry and Draco were lounging in the back garden. The week had been particularly difficult for both of them. Bellatrix Lestrange’s trial had just concluded. Under Veritaserum, she had testified about all of the atrocities she had committed. Silent tears rolled down Harry’s cheeks as she spoke in a clear monotone about torturing Neville’s parents and the satisfaction she felt about killing her Muggle-loving cousin, Sirius Black.

She further went on to testify about her affair with Lucius Malfoy and how he had helped her escape the second time. Draco, and indeed the Wizengamot, was stunned. Lucius had long been suspected of recurrent Death Eater activities, even though he had publicly testified to being under the effects of the Imperius curse. The excuse had worked so well the first time, no one could really blame him for using it again.

But Draco was truly devastated. Sure, he had long ago severed his ties with his family and fought on Harry’s side to defeat Voldemort. And he knew that his father had been a faithful servant of Voldemort’s and would never have fallen victim to the Imperius curse. But to have cheated on Narcissa?

The reporters did not leave them alone all week. They routinely tried to Floo into the flat until Draco had them taken off the Floo network. Walking through Diagon Alley was next to impossible. It was only once they were inside the Ministry that they were left alone. But then being there wasn’t exactly a relief as it meant reliving painful memories and learning hard truths.

Lucius had been called to testify. Guessing that he would take the opportunity to run, Draco had tipped off the Aurors to his father’s whereabouts. He had never told Harry that he continued to keep tabs on Lucius. He stood by and met his father’s icy gaze when the Aurors greeted him at the front door and “insisted” on escorting the elder Malfoy to the Ministry. Once Bellatrix was convicted and sentenced to the Veil, Lucius had been arrested. Draco was not looking forward to the media circus surrounding his father’s impending trial.

He and Harry had just finished an early dinner. They enjoyed spending the evenings in the back garden during the springtime. They had a lovely view of the setting sun and had enjoyed many a spectacular sight. It was one of Draco’s favourite times of the day, when he could leave behind his worries and fears and reflect on another day with the person who meant the most to him at his side. He leaned back into the chaise lounge cushion as Harry settled in next to him. Butterbeers in hand, they silently awaited this evening’s performance.

Just as the colors began to change from an orangey red to light violet, the doorbell chimed announcing a guest at the front door. Harry and Draco’s friends never rang the bell as they usually just apparated through the wards surrounding the flat. Assuming the visitor to be a neighbour or salesperson, Harry dragged himself out of his seat.

“I’ll get it. Be right back.”

“Well, don’t take too long. The sunset will be over soon.”

A few minutes later, the sky was deep purple and Draco realized there was no sound coming from inside the flat. “Harry? Where did you go? You missed the rest of the sunset.”

Draco passed through the kitchen into the front room and stopped short at the sight. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in front of Harry looking at him gravely. Harry, for his part, had gone ghostly pale. “What’s wrong? And why are you ringing the doorbell? Why didn’t you just Floo?”

Kingsley swung his eyes to meet Draco’s. “I couldn’t Floo as you haven’t been hooked back up to the network yet. And the apparition wards aren’t set for me. I couldn’t wait to send a message by owl either. I’m afraid that Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped again.”

“What? How?”

“Well, they were still working on figuring out the specifics when I left. I wanted to get to you before anyone else did. But it looks as if they may have had inside help.”

“They?”

“Yes, Draco. Your father was also attempting to escape. I’m sorry to tell you he was killed.”

Draco sat down hard on the couch. His mind was a jumble of thoughts. His father was dead and Bellatrix was loose again. Harry would be completely obsessed again. And after all they had been through this week. And just who was their ‘inside help?’ He turned to meet Harry’s eyes.

“You missed the rest of the sunset.”

And you’ve missed all the sunsets since then. But maybe not. Maybe you’re watching them from wherever you are and thinking about me. Maybe we’re still watching the sunsets together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had been right, of course. Harry was obsessed. Or rather, Draco assumed that his obsession was the reason for his abrupt departure the next morning.

They had stayed up half the night. Harry had insisted to Kingsley that he join the search or goddammit, he was resigning right then and there. Kingsley knew better than to deny Harry this time and had reluctantly agreed. He left soon after, giving Harry instructions to meet him in his office at the Ministry the next morning. Draco had watched silently whilst Harry packed for the mission.

Finally, Harry turned to Draco. His eyes were full of emotion. Draco crossed the room wordlessly and lowered his mouth to Harry’s. Neither of them said a word as they fell to the bed.

And when Draco woke the next morning Harry was gone. He left a note on the kitchen table. ‘Be back soon. I’ll send word with Hedwig. Look for my scarf.’

Five days later, Kingsley arrived via the re-connected Floo. “Draco, I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Just tell me, Shacklebolt.”

“Harry’s missing. He went after her before we could pull a team together. We’d only just located his magical signature. When we arrived he was gone. All the evidence points to a trap.”

“A trap?”

“Yes, whoever was helping Bellatrix and your father set a trap. They found a way to release them from prison and knew that Harry would come after Lestrange. There were signs of a struggle…”

“But he has to be okay. I know it. Hedwig brought his scarf to me just last night.”

“His scarf?”

“Well, just a piece of it really. But it was a message. To me. That he was okay. We always pick something for him to send to tell me that he’s okay. And this time he picked the scarf. And Hedwig brought it last night. He’s always home the day after she arrives. So you see, he’s fine. He’s just delayed. He’ll be home soon.”

“Draco, we found Harry’s scarf.” And Kingsley held the tattered scarf out to him. Draco looked at it silently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That had been two weeks ago. Every night, Draco made dinner in case Harry came home. He sat in the back garden and watched the sunsets. He imagined that Harry was watching them too. When he did sleep, he dreamt of Harry’s hands and lips and body ghosting over him. But most of the time he couldn’t sleep.

The only peace he felt was to stand at the window and watch the moon rising, the stars twinkling back at him almost mockingly. As long as he stood there, Harry’s scarf in his hand, watching the sky, he believed that Harry would be okay.

Draco’s thoughts returned back to the night of his birthday. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to pull Harry down next to him on the coach. He just remembered wanting to be close to him. Talking about all that had happened to them in their past made him realize just how well suited he and Harry were to each other. Although their childhoods had been very different, something had drawn them together since the very first time they’d met at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley. They were more than rivals, more than enemies. They challenged each other as equals. And in doing so became so much more than friends.

Even though he had initiated the discussion, Draco became uncomfortable as they started to talk about their future. He and Harry had never pledged their lives to each other or made mad declarations of love. Their commitment was unspoken, a subject too intense for them to discuss. It was easier to leave some of things unsaid, but silently understood. But now, Draco realized that he could not, did not want to, live his life with out Harry by his side. He cursed his aristocratic upbringing, where expressions of emotion were frowned upon.

Why didn’t I ever tell him how I felt? How much I truly love him? How much I trust him? Where the fuck is he?

Draco drifted into a restless sleep. Visions of Death Eaters surrounding Harry taunted him. The faces covered by white masks, laughing and jeering, shouting curses. Harry writhing on the ground in the middle of their circle. He was trying to get to Harry, to help him, to save him. But his legs wouldn’t work, his arms felt pinned to his side. He awoke with a start.

The room was dark now. The lightning from the earlier storm was gone. Moonlight streamed through the open window, a breeze gently blowing the curtains. His rapid breathing starting to slow now, Draco looked around the room. In his haze, he thought he could feel Harry’s body next to him. God, I can almost smell him.

“Draco.”

Draco’s head whipped to the left. “Harry?”

“It’s me, I’m home.”

“But…how did you get here? You’re supposed to be missing.”

“Am I? Well if you’d rather that I leave again….”

“No! It’s just…I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. Hedwig brought the scarf and then Kingsley said they had trapped you and no one knew where you were and I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”

“Shh, Draco. I’m here now. I’m okay. Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Are you real?”

“Yes, I’m real. Now let’s get to sleep, I’m tired. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Draco woke, he was convinced it had all been a dream. He remembered feeling Harry next to him and talking to him, but it wasn’t real. He was alone in their bed. The same way he had been for almost three weeks now. The dream Harry had said he was real, but he wasn’t, he couldn’t have been. And for the first time since Draco was five years old, tears formed in his silver eyes and began to slide silently down his cheeks.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Draco jumped up out of the bed. Grabbing his wand, he spun towards the door. And standing there, holding a tray with tea and toast, was Harry.

“Boy, you really are serious about your beauty sleep, aren’t you, Draco?”

“Harry!”

“Yes, it’s me. I believe we established that last night.”

“You mean that was real. That was you?”

“Yes.”

Draco walked over to where Harry was standing and wordlessly took the tray from him. He placed the tray on the nightstand and noticed his hands were trembling.

“Where have you been?”

“I…”

“I want to hear it all. Right now. From the time you left this flat until the time you got back. Don’t leave anything out.”

“Okay, sit down. This is going to take a while.”

So Draco sat at the foot of the bed while Harry leaned against the headboard. Sipping his tea, he listened intently as Harry began to tell his tale.

He had arrived early at Kingsley’s office and began to sift through all of the evidence the investigation team had pulled together. He decided to go off in search of her himself and not wait for the rest of the team. He felt sure he could handle her alone. It took him four days to figure out where Bellatrix was hiding and about four minutes to apparate there by himself.

“Where was she?”

“At the Manor.”

“My Manor? Malfoy Manor? What was she doing there? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Draco, the person who had been helping your father and Lestrange was your mother.”

Draco accepted this news wordlessly. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Just what had been going on? His mother was helping his father? Whilst he was having an affair with his Aunt Bella? And just how had Narcissa been able to free them from the Ministry holding cells? Who had she bribed? Or cursed with Imperious? The last bits of his foundation crumbled. Opening his eyes, he saw Harry’s green eyes watching him intently.

“Go on.”

“Are you sure you want to hear all of this?”

“Yes, now go on.”

So Harry continued. It had, of course, been a trap. They knew that Harry would have foolishly run off on his own, being a stupidly brave Gryffindor. He had sent Hedwig off with the bit of scarf as soon as he’d arrived. He was so sure that he would waltz in and catch her and arrest her on the spot. And if that was the least he did, she would be lucky. But the moment he’d set foot inside the Manor he realised his error. He had been caught and thrown into the dungeons.

“What did they do to you?”

“It’s not important, Draco. I’m fine.”

“I need to know, Harry. I really need to know.”

Harry looked up at Draco, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Draco froze and his breath caught in his throat. What could they have done to him to make Harry want to cry? The last time he had seen Harry cry was at the trial, when he had relived some of his worst memories. Maybe he didn’t really need to know.

No, wait.

He didn’t need to know, he wanted to. He suddenly realized how much he wanted. To know not just what happened, but everything about Harry. And to have Harry know everything about him. He wanted to tell Harry that he loved him. He wanted to hold his hand and kiss him in public and dance on the kitchen floor. He had lived for so long behind that wall of emotion, taught the ways of what it means to be a Malfoy. And now the last vestiges of his foundations were gone. His father was dead, and most likely his mother as well. All he had known and grew up believing, it was all a lie. The only person who had ever been completely truthful with him, whether in hate or love, was Harry.

“Draco…” Harry whispered. Draco looked up with a start.

“Harry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I want to know, of course. But there’s something I need to tell you, too. About how much I missed you. And how I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you were gone. I watched the sunset every night, searching the sky for some sign that you were watching it too and thinking of me. That you were coming home to me. So I want to know what happened, but it doesn’t really matter if you tell me. All that matters is that you’re here with me now. And that you never leave me again.”

Harry lunged forward and grabbed Draco and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Draco dropped kisses on his head and whispered soothing words into his ear, trying to comfort the shaking man. Eventually, they settled back on the pillows, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Harry took a shaky breath. “I love you too, Draco. I never doubted I’d come home to you. Even after all those nights. You see, there was a small window near the ceiling of my cell. And every night, I’d look to the sky and watch the sunset and think of you, too.”

Draco found it difficult to form the words to tell Harry how much that meant to him. He listened quietly as Harry finished his tale, the details suddenly not so important.

That evening, nestled next to each other, they watched the sunset. And the evening sky provided a canopy of stars and moonlight as they talked of their future together.

FIN