Reclamation; Love Left Behind

Reclamation; Love Left Behind

*********************************

Nick grunted a hello as Harry entered the salon that morning and then returned to sulking into his coffee. It was the middle of November and foggy outside, tinges of grey and purple marring the not-quite-light sky. People bustled past the door, hurrying to their jobs and away from the cold damp London streets. Apart from Nick, the receptionist, Harry appeared to be the first in that morning of the staff of the fashionable and highly regarded hairdressers on the King's Road, Chelsea. He shed his bag and scarf, dumping them on top of the counter Nick was seated behind, and leant over to kiss him on the cheek.

"What's the matter with you this morning?" he asked. Nick mumbled something unintelligible but Harry caught a certain name. "What's Bob done now?" he asked with a sigh.

"Nothing. Forget it; it's not important."

"Fine. If you want to talk to me later, you can, though," Harry said. Nick nodded and handed him a sheet of paper, which was his schedule for the day. "Thanks." He took it, along with the bag and scarf, and disappeared into the staff room. Nick went back to sulking once more until he heard a shout of, "What the fuck?"

Harry came storming back out into the reception area.

"What's the matter, Harry?"

"What's the matter? What the fuck is this?" he said, slamming his schedule down on the counter and pointing to a certain box. Nick looked.

"It's your three-thirty appointment; cut and style," he replied.

"What about the name?"

"Draco M. What about it? Bit funny, isn't it? Do you think it's French?"

"No, it's Latin. What's the surname?" Harry demanded. Nick shrugged.

"It'll be on the computer."

"Well, find out!" Harry shouted. Nick sighed heavily. "If this is a coincidence, it isn't even funny," Harry muttered to himself, tapping his foot anxiously against the side of the counter.

"It's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Fuck, bollocks, arses and shit!" Harry practically screamed just as someone opened the door and stepped in. "Adrian! Adrian, please, let someone else do my three-thirty appointment," Harry begged, kneeling at his boss' feet and grabbing the front of his trousers. "Please!"

"Morning, Harry," Adrian replied, taking a sip from his polystyrene coffee cup.

"There must be someone else who can take the appointment. I'll swap with someone. I'll do colouring instead, I don't fucking care, but please don't make me do my half-three booking."

"Sorry but no. No changes, Harry. What's the big problem anyway?" Adrian asked. Harry stood up.

"Oh, what do you bloody care?" he snapped, once again retreating to the staff room. He poured himself coffee and then dropped onto one of the settees heavily with a whispered, "Draco Malfoy."

Back outside, Nick and Adrian were staring at each other and then something dawned on Nick and he clapped a hand over his mouth. Adrian raised his eyebrows and spread his hands in a 'tell me' gesture.

"The appointment he doesn't want to do? It's with his ex-boyfriend. I've just remembered the name. They were together for eight years and then he dumped Harry," Nick explained.

"Eight years?"

"Yeah. From when they were sixteen to when they were twenty-four. I'd hazard a guess and say that Harry hasn't seen him in the nine years since."

"Oh shit," Adrian said. Nick just nodded.

*******

Harry went through his morning appointments in a rather mechanical way. His ten-thirty was one of his regulars. Her name was Patricia and she was seventy-six. Coming from very old money, she was sophisticated, well-dressed and well-groomed and concerned about her appearance. At five to eleven, she was more concerned about Harry, though.

"Is something the matter, dear?" she asked as he combed her hair through after washing it.

"No," Harry replied.

"Don't lie to me. You've got a face like a child with no ice-cream on a summer day."

"It's not summer," Harry commented with the beginnings of a smile. She gave him a look via the mirror and he began to tell her about Draco.

"... So he just left you?" Patricia asked over the noise of the hairdryer.

"Yep. Said he didn't think he could cope with being with me for the rest of his life yet."

"What a stupid little bugger. Who wouldn't want to be with you?"

"I'm glad somebody appreciates me," Harry said with a smile. "I don't think I'll be able to cope with seeing him, let alone cutting his hair. It's been eight years, for goodness' sakes."

"You haven't seen him at all since then?"

Harry shook his head. "He's been living in Paris," he said.

"Have you ever been?" Patricia enquired. "It's a lovely city."

"I've been a couple of times for Fashion Week and for different work-related events but I never really got a chance to look around. It was always fly in, do the work, fly home."

"Maybe you should go for a holiday. Maybe Draco should show you around."

"Are you trying to imply I'd get back together with him?" Harry asked as he turned the hairdryer off.

"Well, excuse me for assuming but I'm rather positive you still love him. Forgiveness isn't always a weakness."

Harry was silent for a moment before he whispered, "I'll keep that in mind."

******

Two people were trying to enter the salon at the same time; it never works. A startled sound escaped Harry's lips as he bumped into someone and dropped his bag on the floor. He knelt down and started gathering together the items, which had fallen out of it.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking up. "I didn't see you."

"It's all right, Harry," the other said, crouching to help and watching as surprised, impossibly wide eyes met his. "Are there headlights or something?"

"What?" Harry frowned. A chuckled rumbled from low in the other's throat.

"You know, the saying about a deer getting caught in the headlights? I imagine the deer would look just like you do at this very moment."

"Your appointment isn't until half past three, Draco."

"So, I'm early. Is it a problem?"

"No. What do I care," Harry said, turning away and walking to the staff room. Draco sighed and went to the reception desk. Before he could talk, Nick said,

"Got a delicate one there, you know?"

"I know," Draco retorted snappily. "I had him for a long time. The self-absorbed one always lets the delicate one get away from him."

"I just meant the situation, actually."

Draco blinked. "Oh. Of course."

Harry, meanwhile, had locked himself in the toilet. He sat down on the closed seat and put his head in his hands. What a lovely end to my lunch break, he thought. He just had to look even better than when he left me, obviously, the arse. What the hell am I going to do?

He wasn't sure how long he sat there but, eventually, someone came and knocked on the door.

"Harry? Are you in there?" a voice travelled through the door. Harry sighed and dragged himself to his feet to open the door, finding Alice, a junior stylist, waiting for him. "It's twenty to four; your client's waiting," she told him. Harry nodded and crossed the room to take his jacket and scarf off. He quickly fixed his hair, which he had messed up by continually running his fingers through it - nervous habit - and went out to the reception desk.

The first thing he noticed was that Draco was trying to ignore the fact that three of Harry's colleagues were standing behind the desk, staring at him. Harry went over to the three; Alice, Nick and Laura, one of the beauty therapists.

"What are you doing?" he asked them.

"Just... admiring," Laura replied with a dreamy expression on her face. The others nodded in agreement with her. "He could be a model," Laura added, still not taking her eyes off of Draco.

"He is a model," Harry told her.

"I thought he looked familiar," Nick said. "I can't believe you used to go out with him. You're always telling me that you're unlucky with boyfriends and you used to have that."

"Yeah, I used to. You think it's lucky that I wasn't fucking good enough to stay with, do you?" Harry snapped, not waiting for a response before he walked over to Draco. "Do you want to follow me?" he asked, noticing that Draco's coat had already been taken. Draco nodded and stood up, casting an uncertain look to the three people whose eyes were following his movements in unison. Harry showed him to a washbasin at the back of the salon and told him to sit down.

Harry pulled out the hairband that was holding Draco's hair into a loose bun and handed it to the man. He ran his fingers through the length of Draco's hair, noting absently that it must be a bit longer than shoulder-length should Draco have been standing up. As he turned the water on and started washing, Draco spoke.

"You look well, Harry."

"Really? In what way?"

"Every way. You know, I'd forgotten how good you look in jeans," Draco said. Harry looked down at himself; he was wearing just a plain black t-shirt and some worn-in, dark jeans that were almost falling off of his bottom, despite the efforts of his leather belt.

"I hadn't forgotten how good you look in general," he said quietly in response. "What are you doing in London?"

"Looking at flats, doing a shoot and collecting something if it's ready."

"Still modelling then?"

"Yes."

"Can't keep your exhibitionist nature restrained, then," Harry commented.

"Well, actually, I took a break for about eighteen months but I've started again now. This is the first shoot I'll have done for ages."

"Oh right. Why are you looking at flats? Are you moving back here?"

"I don't know. Probably; maybe not permanently. I'm not really sure yet, depends on what happens with certain things."

"I thought you might have been here on holiday with some French fancy of yours called Pierre or something." Harry started lathering shampoo into Draco's hair. Draco smiled at Harry's tone of voice.

"I don't have any French fancies; haven't had for a long time. You had any London lovelies?" he asked.

"When? Recently or since you left?"

"Recently."

"No. Actually, my last boyfriend was Swedish but that was nearly two years ago now."

"Swedish?"

"Yeah. He was a student; he was doing his last year of a post-graduate degree over here. It didn't last very long."

"Why not?"

"Because I realised that despite having almost the same hair colour as you, he wasn't you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, well, that's pretty much the reason all my relationships end before it gets to two months. After the Swedish one, I basically gave up. I can't find anyone as cutting as you; nobody's capable of the quick change from sarky to sweet like you are. You really do that seamlessly." Harry rinsed the shampoo out and began to massage Draco's scalp. He heard Draco stifle a moan and smiled. "Is that too hard?" he asked.

"No... No, that's just perfect. God, I've missed your hands."

"You shouldn't have left them here when you buggered off to Paris, then," Harry said. He quickly felt guilty at the bitterness he knew was in his voice and asked, "How is Paris, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, Parisian. It's nothing special; not anymore. It never was really."

"Why?"

"It always felt like there was something missing, from the moment I set foot on the plane to go there."

"London feels like that for me almost all of the time," Harry said quietly. He then smirked when he noticed something. "Have you developed a particularly sensitive scalp over the years?" he asked.

"What?" Draco asked, slightly flustered. The only person who can make me lose control, he thought. Harry bent down and lowered his mouth to Draco's ear to whisper,

"You have an erection."

Draco wondered how Harry knew; he had looked down when he felt himself become hard and checked that his trousers didn't give anything away. "How did you-"

"You always get flushed underneath your ears when you're hard," Harry explained, running his index fingers over the areas in question. Draco shivered at the touch. "Always more on the left side than the right, though. You can't hide anything from me. That's why it didn't matter that you never told me you l-" Harry caught himself. "Never mind."

"That's why it didn't matter that I never verbalised loving you more than I could stand," Draco murmured. Harry's hands stopped moving against his scalp.

"Oh my god," he breathed. They sat in silence for a moment until Harry noticed Nick and Alice still staring at them; at least there was only two of them now, Laura having an appointment. He quickly squeezed the excess water out of Draco's hair and told him to get up, leading him to the styling chair nearest the back of the salon, in the hopes that his colleagues wouldn't be able to watch them. "So, what do you want done?" Harry asked, sitting on a wheelie-stool behind Draco.

"Whatever you want. It just needs cutting. I can't have it long for this shoot. As long as you leave room for styling, you can do whatever you want."

"Okay. Why did you let it get so long?" Harry asked as he thought of what to do and combed Draco's hair through

"I just didn't bother getting it cut while I wasn't working. I didn't see the point."

"I never liked it when you grew it this long," Harry said, cutting off three inches of hair in one fell swoop and enjoying doing so.

"Why?"

"Once it got to a certain length, it didn't feel as nice because of the weight of it; got dragged down and thin."

"You always used to say you didn't like it short, though."

"I didn't. When you had it short enough to have to use products, I hated it. It was like I was tangling my fingers in... cling-film or something. There's a middling length where your hair's perfect."

"Are you going to get it back to that middling length?"

"Yes. Selfish and pointless, isn't it? It's not like it matters whether your hair's how I like it, is it?"

"It might matter more than you think."

"It was a rhetorical question."

"I don't care."

"Well, bollocks to your answer, then. Did you purposely ask for me to do your hair to make me feel miserable?" Harry asked.

"No. I didn't. I asked for you because you're the best hairdresser around and whenever you do my hair, it always looks amazing. Maybe I asked for you because I wanted to see you. Maybe I asked for you because I've been wanting to see you from the moment I left you."

"Then why did you leave me at all?" Harry asked, avoiding looking at Draco via the mirror even though he knew Draco was staring at him, or rather his reflection.

"It... It felt right. Then again, being with you felt even better... We were young, Harry. We were sixteen when we got together. You gave me your first kiss. I lost my virginity to you and vice versa. We hadn't known anything but each other and I didn't know if I could live knowing I'd never know anything else."

"So you're basically saying that I wasn't good enough to be the only thing you'd ever know?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all. You just want to, quite rightly, make me sound like a bastard. You're more than good enough. It's just that I knew if we stayed together we'd... Are you really trying to say you were ready for a relationship that very probably would have lasted forever?"

"I loved you, Draco. I didn't really take it into consideration whether we were sixteen or seventy-nine when we got together," Harry said with a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Loved? With a 'd' on the end?" Draco questioned quietly. Harry sighed.

"Love. No 'd'."

"Slip of the tongue or scared of getting hurt?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?" Harry asked sharply.

"No."

"Good." There was a brief silence where Harry continued to cut Draco's hair. "Do you really think it would have lasted forever?"

"You know it would have."

"I would have been ready," Harry whispered.

"What?"

"I would have been ready. You know why? Because I wouldn't have been thinking about if it was going to last forever. I would have just been happy each extra year... each extra hour we were together. You took that away from me and I'm sitting here cutting your hair like nothing's happened. I am such a mug."

"I'm sorry."

Harry shrugged and for twenty minutes, he cut Draco's hair silently. Draco had closed his eyes soon after they stopped talking to prevent himself from staring at Harry. The salon emptied around them as Harry took his time with the cut and the only people left were staff members, who were either watching Harry work or cleaning up around him.

When Harry had finished cutting, he began to style Draco's hair carefully. He turned Draco's chair around so he could style the front more easily, creating a sweeping fringe that almost covered Draco's right eye. Now that they were facing each other, Draco spoke again.

"I thought there was more chance of me hurting you by staying with you than there was by leaving you. I didn't want to stay with you when I felt I wasn't ready for it. It wouldn't have been fair on you if I wasn't honest."

"And I wouldn't want you to feel like you were being forced into staying with me, I know that. I was so hurt, though, Draco; I'm not talking about emotional damage. It was like pure, physical pain. Do you understand that?"

"You think I didn't feel it too? I was the one inflicting that pain on both of us; of course I understand what it felt like."

Harry didn't say anything, knowing that Draco was being truthful; knowing that, if anything, Draco was understating the pain he had felt, not exaggerating it, but never understating the pain he had caused. He removed the bib from around Draco's shoulders, finished with his hair, and threw it over the back of the styling chair next to him.

"Why are you here?" he asked suddenly, his voice high; shrill, strangled and unsettled, uncaring of the fact that he knew he had an audience. "I hate having to sit here and look at you and know that I can't reach over and hold your hand or... or kiss you... or ask you to make love to me. For god's sake, Draco! Why are you doing this to me?" He dropped his elbows on to his knees heavily, resting his head in his hands. Draco stared at him, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself crying at the hopeless picture Harry made. He slowly reached out and touched Harry's hand with the tips of his fingers. Harry looked up, lifting his head from his hands, and watched as Draco tentatively and gently wound their fingers together, bringing their joined hands back down to rest on Harry's knee.

"What if you could?" Draco asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"What if could reach over and hold my hand or kiss me or ask me to make love to you? What if you could do all that and know that I'd stay?"

"If I could do all that and know you'd stay, I'd do it. If I could do all that without knowing you'd stay, I'd do it... but I'm too fucking scared. Why? Would you stay here? Would you stay with me?"

"I... I want to, yes."

"I don't know if it's that easy, Draco." Harry untangled his hand from Draco's, dropping limply into his lap.

"Harry, please. I know I was an absolute fool, all right? But apart from that one thing, I never hurt you. I never gave you a reason not to trust me. We're not in school anymore, love; we're not running our lives by what other people think anymore. You don't have any expectations to live up to anymore; you don't have any except your own anyway. It's just us two people and it can be that easy if you want it enough. Do you want it enough to make it easy?"

"I can't even comprehend how much I want this. I know I can trust you but that doesn't stop me wondering if you mean it; if you mean that you want to stay... with me."

"I mean it, Harry," Draco said firmly. Harry hesitated but said,

"So if I did this..." He took Draco's hand. "Or this..." He leaned over and placed a brief, gentle kiss to Draco's lips. "Or said I wanted to feel your hands all over me... you'd stay?"

"I'd stay," Draco breathed. Harry slowly moved forwards and nervously joined their lips together. Draco's free hand brushed Harry's cheek and Harry broke away.

"I can't do this," he said. Draco's face fell.

"Harry, please," he pleaded. Harry saw Draco's expression and smiled reassuringly.

"I just meant it was really uncomfortable," he explained. "But I think that if I do this..." Harry stood up and moved closer to Draco. He placed a knee either side of Draco's thighs, thankful for the generous width of the chairs, and settled himself on Draco's lap. "... it might work." Harry smiled again and Draco laughed, almost in disbelief, as he looked at Harry with shining eyes.

"Harry... I'm in love with you. Still. I always was and I'm sorry I couldn't say it until now. I can't... not have you anymore so I'm asking... Can you forgive me?" he asked. Harry nodded and Draco kissed him fiercely, his passion for the man overriding the thought of carefully testing the water first. Tenderness came along of its own accord, however, when Harry's fingers tangled in Draco's hair and Draco moaned softly.

Nick was gaping as he watched. "That is so..."

"Making you hard?" Alice asked bluntly. Nick frowned at her but then nodded in defeat.

"Forgiveness isn't always a weakness," Harry murmured against Draco's lips.

"What?"

"Nothing." Harry shook his head. "But you might want to send a note of thanks to a lady called Patricia Boothe-Marley." He grinned at Draco's perplexed expression and kissed him again quickly. "What would you say if I asked you back to my flat?"

"I'd say, 'What the hell are you waiting for?'"

"What would you say if I said I wanted to see you naked and... reacquaint myself with your body?" Harry whispered in Draco's ear even as a blush rose on his cheeks.

"I'd say, 'It's a good job I don't have plans tonight and you'd better not have any either.'"

"Don't worry, all my plans involve you, me and a bed," Harry said with a kiss to the side of Draco's neck. Draco groaned and Harry stood up. "Let's get going, then, shall we?" he asked. Draco's nod was very firm. Harry went to get his things from the staff room and Draco went to reception to ask for his jacket. Nick retrieved it from the cloakroom and handed it back with a smirk. Draco pointedly ignored it as he paid for his haircut and waited for Harry to come back.

"Do they really have to bloody stare at me like that?" Draco asked him when he returned. Harry nodded.

"Yes. They're very sad little buggers," he said, looking meaningfully at Nick in particular. "Ready to go?" he asked Draco, who nodded. "Okay. Bye, everyone. I'll see you all tomorrow," Harry said, opening the door.

"Have a nice night!" Nick called. Harry called his reply without turning around,

"Fuck off!"

*******

Draco kissed Harry as soon as they were inside the man's flat and Harry led him to the bedroom straight away. Deciding to take a more assertive tack, Harry pushed Draco onto the bed and straddled him. He kissed a line down his neck and then licked around the curve of his ear, causing Draco to shiver and jolt his hips up. Harry smiled and purred,

"We're going to make love until the fucking cows come home."

Draco groaned and they kissed lustily, need for each other silencing all questions and banishing all doubts in Harry's mind.

So wrapped up in what they were doing, they didn't even think to remove Harry's glasses until almost an hour later when they poked Draco's cheek. It was almost two hours later when they were laying together, Harry's head resting on Draco's smooth stomach and Draco asked him,

"Are the cows here yet?"

"I don't hear any mooing," Harry replied, moving down and kissing the inside of Draco's thigh. Draco laughed at Harry's response but then gasped as Harry's lips encompassed him.

It was another three and a half hours before either of them admitted defeat. This time Harry asked,

"Are the cows here yet?"

"Moo," Draco said weakly. Harry collapsed next to him, completely done in, and gratefully said,

"I agree... Moo indeed."

*******

The next morning, Harry was still pleasantly exhausted when he woke up. He stretched and opened his eyes to see Draco peering at him. Draco smiled when Harry met his gaze.

"Morning," he said.

"Hello," Harry replied quietly. He reached up and pushed Draco's hair away from his eye. "You never told me if you liked your new hair," he said.

"I told you that every time you do my hair, it looks perfect, though. I like my new hair... even though you messed it up as soon as you'd finished it."

Harry laughed. "Your hair's made for messing up."

"Well, your hair's messed enough without even touching it."

"Harsh words, Draco," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Draco pulled Harry flush against his body and kissed him. "I have to go to work," Harry said, grudgingly pulling away. Draco nodded.

"I know." He watched Harry stand up and pull on a pair of boxer shorts before disappearing into the bathroom. He made a small contented noise as he stretched out in Harry's bed, surveying his surroundings. It was a much nicer flat than the one they had shared all those years ago. Certainly nice enough to live in, he thought to himself. After about fifteen minutes, Harry returned with still damp hair. He passed by Draco on his way to the wardrobe and Draco caught a hint of his scent; deodorant, shampoo, soap and aftershave as well as the smell of simply his skin.

"Harry, do you really, really have to go to work?" Draco said as Harry slipped his glasses on with one hand and pulled a pair of jeans on with the other.

"Yes, unfortunately. I really would phone in sick if I could but there's some woman from the British Association of Hairdressing coming to assess me. Again. I hate it when they do that."

"What do you need assessing for?"

"They want to put me in for Hairdresser of the Year, again." He tugged a t-shirt over his head and then knelt on the bed next to the man who had reclaimed him as his lover. "What are you going to do today?"

"I don't know. Lounge around? Recover my strengths for what I plan on doing to you this evening, perhaps?"

"That sounds promising," Harry said, kissing him. "Do you want coffee?"

"Please."

"Well, get out of bed, then," Harry told him, pinching his cheek.

"Anyone else would be dead if they did that, you realise?" Draco asked, standing up and searching for his underwear, which he found hanging off of the curtain pole. He didn't even question how they had gotten up there; Harry could be quite enthusiastic when it came to sex. Harry just laughed as he left the room. Draco followed him into the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was waiting on the counter. Harry poured two mugs and passed one to Draco. There was a bang from somewhere in the flat and Draco turned towards the sound although Harry seemed unfazed.

"What was that?" Draco asked.

"Oh, Adrian's staying in the spare bedroom while he looks for a flat. He has a tendency to fall out of bed."

"Who's Adrian?"

"My boss."

"You live with your boss?"

"Only for a couple of weeks."

"Oh right." Draco took a sip of coffee and then remembered what he had been thinking about while Harry was in the bathroom. "Harry, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"What would you do if I said I was thinking about cancelling my appointments with the estate agents?" Draco asked. "And what would you do if I said there's a way you could halve your mortgage payments?"

"I'd tell you I was already planning on going and getting some keys for my flat cut this evening."

"Oh. That works out nicely then."

Harry turned to him and grinned that infectious grin Draco had pined for greatly. "Doesn't it just?"

They talked idly as they drank their coffee. Adrian eventually appeared about ten minutes before he should have left for work and he wasn't even properly dressed yet.

"Oh... god... work," he moaned in distress at the prospect, throwing coffee down his throat.

"Give me twenty quid and I'll sort stuff at the salon out for you so you don't have to be in until half-ten," Harry said.

"Done," Adrian replied instantly, holding his hand out for Harry to shake before quickly retreating to his room. Harry laughed.

"Wonderful business skills you have there," Draco commented. Harry shrugged.

"Well, I get by," he said. He caught sight of the time on the oven clock and downed the rest of his coffee. "I've got to go," he told Draco, who nodded. He vanished into the hall for a minute and then came back with his jacket and scarf on. "I'll see you later?"

"Yes. Bye, baby."

"Bye." Harry kissed Draco's forehead and smiled at merely the fact that Draco was sitting in his kitchen. Draco watched him walk away and heard the front door shut. Less than a minute later, he heard it open again and Harry stuck his head around the kitchen door. "I meant to ask you something. Yesterday, you said you had to collect something. What was it?"

"Eh? I don't have anything to collect."

"But you said you did. You said that, if it was ready, you had to collect something. I just wondered what it was."

Draco frowned as he thought and then smiled as he realised what he had meant. He looked at Harry and his smile widened. "Oh, that," he said. "I was talking about you."

- fin -

*****************