And So It Goes

And so it Goes

------------------------

"In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and warm

To heal the wounds from lovers past

Until a new one comes along

I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense

And still I fear I said too much

My silence is my self defence

And every time I held a rose

It seems I only felt the thorns

And so it goes, and so it goes

And so will you soon I suppose"

Draco Malfoy pulled his winter cloak around him and looked out the frost covered window of his small stone house with his bleak grey eyes. Pale white snow was falling slowly from the sky above and gently touching down on the sidewalks outside as shop keepers stood out in the cold trying to keep their walks clear for customers. Candles flickered in the frosty windows that lined the small road and gave the normally melancholy village of Eadhelm Bridge, a wizarding village just south of Edenbridge, Kent an unnatural beauty.

Stepping away from the window, Draco walked toward the door, his hands shoved in his pockets. Quietly he sighed and reached out for the cold brass doorknob, turning it slowly, and pulled the door open just enough to let himself out. He pulled the door shut behind him and started down the road, waving to every one he passed, and even exchanging a few words with one witch. Every one knew every one else in Eadhelm, at least, that's what Draco thought.

He walked past the wand shop, the small apothecary, grocery, and a little shop that had all sorts of quills and inkbottles in the window display. An older man dressed in a heavy cloak walked passed Draco and tipped his hat genially at him; Draco nodded in response and continued down the street. As he neared the bookshop he was headed for, he noticed many people gathered outside the doorway, waiting on a line of sorts to get into the shop. With a raised eyebrow, he walked over to a witch in the line and asked what it was for.

"The book signing, of course!" She replied in a very excited tone.

"Ah," Draco said as though he knew exactly what she was talking about, though he truly had no idea any book signings were going on - and Eadhelm was not somewhere many famous people came for signings. He shrugged it off and pushed passed a few ecstatic witches, slowly inching his way into the far back corner of the store.

With how excited the many witches in the shop were, he thought, you'd think Lockhart had come back from stupidity and written a book - titled, perhaps, "Out of the Closet: By Gilderoy Lockhart." Draco rolled his eyes at the mere thought of his once Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - the memory alone made him feel nauseous.

It seemed to him that he hard stood for hours in the back of the bookshop, and, in fact, it had been just over two hours when he checked his watch. He assumed the shop would be closing soon so he quickly found the book he was looking for and hurried out of the isle only to trip over a stack of red leather covered books that were in the middle of the shop floor.

"Are you alright?" he heard a voice ask, a voice he hadn't heard in eight years.

"I'm... um... I'm fine," Draco said as he stood up and brushed his pants off casually, though his whole inside was tensing up.

"Are you sure?" the voice asked kindly, and Draco was sure the person who was now stacking the books onto a nearby table had no idea who he was.

"Yes," Draco said crisply, "positive."

The person laughed a bit, his raven black hair, longer now and tied back with a small red ribbon, looked darker than ever in the dimly lit shop.

"It's been quite a while, hasn't it?" the person asked.

Draco swallowed hard and "Umm..." was the only thing he could find to say.

"Hasn't it, Draco?" the voice repeated.

"Yes," Draco said, still not having seen the person's face, "Yes, it has, Harry."

Harry chuckled and smiled, though Draco didn't see it, as Harry was still facing the table - that being with his back to Draco.

"It's getting late," Harry said, turning around to face the blonde man, "I better be going now." Those eyes, Draco thought, they haven't changed a bit - not one bit in nine years.

"To where?" Draco asked rather quickly and loudly. Harry just lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Home, where else?" he said simply.

"And home is where?" Draco asked - he was just full of questions it seemed.

"Here, in Eadhelm, of course," Harry replied. Draco raised both hit eyebrows and gave Harry a look that plainly said "Really?" And, Harry replied with a glance speaking of "Well, what did you expect?"

"I never would have guessed you'd come back here," Draco began as he reached behind his head with his right arm, placing his hand on the back of his head.

"And I never would have expected you'd come to a signing of mine or that you'd come back," Harry said with a smile.

"I didn't know you were having a signing here, actually, or any idea you had written a book," he replied honestly, ignoring the comment about how he was the one less likely to return. And even though he knew it was true, he wanted to avoid the sensitive subject.

Harry didn't say anything for a while, but picked up a book, opened it, and began to write on the inside of the front cover. With a smile, he handed the book to Draco. "Have one on account, then."

Draco offered a weak smile as he reached out for the book, tightly grasping it in his right hand. He didn't say anything, but as the near-smile slid off his face then, he turned and walked toward the door. The thudding of his shoes on the wooden floor seemed to resonate though the old structure.

"Well," Draco said dolefully, "goodbye again."

"Mmm," Harry said as he turned back to the books he was stacking up with a slight nod, "goodbye, Draco."

Draco sighed and pushed the door open, letting in a gust of cold air. He looked back, for what he knew wouldn't be the last time, but it felt that way inside. Turning his head away, he stepped out into the cold and beautiful unique snowflakes fell on his warm skin, immediately turning into false tears on his cheeks.

"Wait!" Draco heard Harry's voice call out after he had taken only three steps. Without thinking, Draco turned around and stuck his head back into the shop. He nearly collided with Harry who was standing right inside the doorway. The dark haired man laughed a bit, and took a step back.

"Do you want to, you know, get some thing to eat?" Harry asked, "I mean, it is around supper time," he added quickly with a smile.

"Sure," Draco said as he tried not to let the stupid smile that he was holding inside slip onto his face.

Harry turned around and walked toward the counter on the left of the shop, picked up a quill, wrote a short note down and then let the quill and note on the counter top. Draco assumed that it was intended for the owner of the shop, and didn't ask any questions about it. After Harry had written the note, he walked over to Draco, blowing out the candles that lit the shop, except for a few ones in the back.

Draco was waiting outside when Harry had finished inside the shop. The walked down the sidewalks, crossing a few streets as they went, and eventually found themselves in front of a small café. There were hardly any people there nd, for that exact reason, they chose there to eat.

"You know," Harry began as they looked over the menus, "Ron and Hermione got married right after the war ended."

"Really?" Draco said, sounding only too uninterested.

"Yea," Harry said, "What about you? Did you and Pansy get married? Every one figured you would."

Draco looked up from his menu with arched eyebrows. "No," he said flatly, "I didn't marry Pansy," his voice was calm and contained, "Or Blaise." He said as he saw Harry prepare to ask another question.

"Who then?" Harry asked, quite baffled that Draco hadn't married Pansy, though, since Draco betrayed Voldemort, it did make sense that he hadn't - but who other than Pansy and Blaise was there?

"No one," Draco said turning his eyes back to his menu, "What about you?"

"The same," Harry said quietly, "I just thought, after you left... Well, I mean, I thought you'd run off with one of them."

Draco propped his menu and stared blankly at Harry as if the two words hadn't registered in his mind correctly. The great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, isn't married, he thought to himself, Well, I'll be damned.

"Not Ginny... or Lavender... or anyone?" Draco asked half I disbelief ignoring Harry's last set of comments, once again avoiding a topic he didn't much want to discuss. The embarrassment would have been too much for him to deal with.

"No," Harry said, "just like you - no one."

Draco was shocked, but strangely glad, that Harry hadn't married. They didn't talk anymore until after they had finished eating; they hardly even looked at each other. The silence was cold and chilled both of them right to the bone like the winter air.

After they had finished eating, Draco paid for both meals much against Harry's protest, and in return, Draco agreed to go back to Harry's cottage for a drink.

Harry's home wasn't far from the café, only a few blocks over actually, and Draco was pleasantly surprised at the quaintness the little stone home, looking quite like his, held. It was the cottage from the stories his mother had told him when he was very young, and that idea held both promising and frightening memories for him.

Once Harry got the door unlocked, he and Draco entered the small house. There was a fireplace on the left-hand side of the room with a bright fire burning in it and a few wall sconces to the right above a gray couch. A wooden table was in the middle of the room and a few magazines and book were stacked on it. Though the room was a bit haphazard, it was charming, in it's own special way.

"Won't you sit down?" Harry asked as he took his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack next to the door.

"Uh, alright," Draco said, as he followed Harry's example with his coat and then walked over to the couch, sitting on the far-left side. He placed the book Harry had given him down with the others on the table.

Harry waited until Draco was situated to go into the kitchen to prepare the drinks.

"What would you like?" Harry asked from in the kitchen.

"Just water, thanks," Draco replied as he looked around the room. He suddenly became aware of Harry's head poking out from the kitchen door.

"You must be kidding me," Harry said flatly when their eyes met. Draco laughed and shook his head slightly.

"Alright, alright - gin and water."

"That's more like it," Harry said with a smile and went back into the kitchen.

"So," Draco said when Harry came back into the room, a glass in each hand, "What have you been doing all these years?"

"All these years?" Harry asked lightly as he handed Draco his glass and sat beside him, "You make it sound like it's been forever."

"It seems that way sometimes," Draco said, taking a slip from his glass.

Harry nodded, "It does sometimes."

"You seem to have been doing fairly well," Draco said, finally beginning to relax, "You have a nice place, but why so secluded. I thought you'd be living in a city."

"I do have a place in London," Harry said, but not too proudly, "I only ever go there when I have to be in the city, otherwise I am always here."

"It's amazing that we have been living here, in the same village for who knows how long now, and never knew the other lived here."

"I suppose," Harry said.

Silence. A curse that had seemed to overcast them multiple times that night. Side by side they sat, neither one saying a word, but this time, they stole glances at each other, not caring if the other saw or not. And then, their eyes locked. Grey melted into green and green into grey. Closer and closer until they could feel breath on their faces - warm and comforting like a fire on a cold snowy night.

"Draco," Harry said quietly.

"Yes," Draco replied, his voice smooth and seductive.

"What are you doing?" the dark haired man asked.

"Nothing!" Draco said quickly, as a bright blush rose to his cheeks despite his attempt to keep it down, "Nothing, nothing." Harry laughed a bit and swallowed down the last of his brandy before setting the glass on the table.

"I guess you figured out I wrote a book," Harry said coolly.

"Yea," Draco said as he picked up the book and looked it over for the first time. The book was red leather covered, the same ones he had tripped over in the shop, and had a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione on the cover. Above the picture, in gold lettering, a title was printed. The font was a very flowing, yet readable script and read "And so it Goes: by Harry J. Potter." Opening the front over and read the first thing he saw.

"To Ron and Hermione, my best friends in al the world," he read out loud, "To Ginny, who taught me that affections are delicate things. To Professors Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore; and to Neville, Dean, Seamus, and the entire Weasley Family."

Harry watched and waited. He knew there was more on that page and knew that Draco was reviewing it in his head, contemplating the meaning behind it.

"Finally, and mostly, to Draco who taught me the greatest lesson of all - there is some good in the most vile of people, at least, until they lose their soul," Draco closed his eyes and shut the book, placing it back down on the table.

"Very nice," he said quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Why did you do it, Draco?" Harry asked.

"Do what?"

"Wait so long to leave Voldemort's side."

"I..." Draco began as he stood, placing his glass down, and walked across the small room to stand by the fire, "My family is old and our name demands respect. Because my father was a Death Eater, I had to do something to purge my name of the tarnish my father did to it. Malfoy wasn't always a name to cringe at. To save my own life, I had to plan and wait patiently, spying for Dumbledore, using the same act I used to make you hate me to make Voldemort treat me like a son. Though, at the same time, I had to frame my father for being a spy to ensure Voldemort would kill him."

"So, you waited all that time, and let all those people die, just to polish your name?" Harry asked, outraged.

"No!" Draco said quickly, "Had I revealed I was fighting with you any sooner, Voldemort and Lucius would have been too much even for you and Dumbledore to handle. But, with me on the other side, tapping away slowly at their defense at strategy, and setting my father to death, I opened the hole you jumped into so gung-ho."

"I didn't know," Harry said quietly as he joined Draco by the fire, "that you were the reason for Lucius's death."

"Well," Draco said coldly, not wanting to talk about his father anymore, "I was."

"He killed your mother, didn't he?" Harry asked gently.

"Yes, Potter, what of it?" Draco said pulling bitterness that Harry hadn't heard in years back into the slur of his speech. Harry, being who he was, realized he was treading on tender ground, and promptly changed the subject from parents to something Draco liked to talk about more - money.

"So, you're well off then, I suppose. Inherit a lot?"

"No," Draco said with a small smile and a faint laugh, "not a single knut." His smiled broader, "But I like it that way. I knew I'd never get any of the money, my father was a greed bastard, he never wrote a will of any sort - his brother got everything."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, both sorry Draco had lost everything and that the subject got back to parents.

"Please, don't be." That was the first time Harry heard Draco Malfoy ever say he was sorry and really, deeply, honestly mean it.

Draco sighed and sat down with his legs crossed on the hearth; Harry sat beside him, his legs also crossed and his chin resting in his hands.

Silence again.

Draco looked around the room again and noticed little festive decorations of garland and candied fruits adorning the mantle and sconces on the far wall. A strip of jingle bells hung on the wall near the kitchen door and large crocheted snowflakes hung in the window. There was even a sprig of mistletoe hung in the center of the room, just over the coffee table and it was tied at the top with a large red ribbon. It was an interestingly beautiful weed, Draco though, to hang from a ceiling.

"You've done well," Draco said, "Since we were nineteen."

"I suppose," Harry said, "if you consider living off pasta and rice well." Draco shrugged and tucked a few stray silver-gold hairs behind his right ear and nonchalantly reaching behind Harry to place his hand on Harry's right shoulder. Harry looked at Draco's hand and then back to the fire, but didn't say anything.

"You have a very nice place here," Draco said quietly, but Harry only nodded and Draco, being who he was, could tell that something was bothering Harry. As a precaution, he took his hand off Harry's shoulder and folded his hand together in his lap.

"I have been touring," Harry said suddenly, "with my book that is, and no matter where I went to, I expected to see Ron or Hermione or Ginny or anyone at one of them. But, no, it's been four years since I have seen any one I went to school with - anyone I knew by name.

"What about me?" Draco asked, feeling a bit left out.

"Except for you," was Harry's reply.

"I..." Draco began slowly, "Iveyou." Harry raised an eyebrow and tipped his head to the side, giving Draco an odd look.

"What?" he asked.

"I love you," Draco said more slowly, "Need me to spell it out for you?"

"No," Harry said, his voice a bit shaky and his eyes wide in awe, "I just... I didn't know."

"Would I have any other reason for betraying Voldemort?" Draco asked leaning a bit closer to Harry.

"You could have loved Hermione, I mean, how was I supposed to tell? You acted too much and hid too much back then." The last sentence didn't even register in Draco's mind - all he could think of was Harry suggesting he loved Hermione.

"Granger?" He asked himself in a whisper. "Me love Granger?"

"It could have been possible," Harry said. Draco drew his eyebrows close together between his eyes.

"No, no, no. You know it's not possible. Besides, I would have had my arse beat by Weasley," Draco pointed out, "I do know were I can't tread." Harry smiled a bit, still contemplating that Draco loved him - not liked him, loved him. And to think that Draco had just said what Harry had tried to say for the entire year they spent together, but never found the voice to say it. He never though that Draco would be the one to say it first though.

"At least you know that much," Harry said as he stood up and walked over to a small cabinet next to the couch. "I want to show you these," he said, pulling out a stack of photos and walking back over to Draco.

Sitting beside him, Harry sorted though the photos, flipping past some pictures of he and Ron and Hermione. Past a few of Christmas at the Weasley's, and one very embarrassing picture of Harry with a pair of pink silk panties pulled over his head and Hermione screaming angrily in the background. Draco couldn't help but laugh as he saw that one go by.

Finally, Harry stopped flipping. Harry laid out a set of photographs from many placed across the globe - Paris, London, New York. Obviously, they were taken while Harry was on tour. In each picture, Harry was accompanied by a brown haired man.

"Who...?" Draco asked.

"Scott," Harry said, "He was the editor for my book, and..." he trailed off a bit.

"And what?" Draco asked as a small smile curled onto his lips.

"And, my boyfriend."

Draco sighed and his smile faded. So, he had made a fool of himself then. He said what he had been waiting for more than thirteen years to say only to find that Harry had found someone new.

"But that," Harry said, "Is the past." Draco smiles slightly, but looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I shouldn't have left that day." Harry sighed and rested his head on Draco's shoulder.

"It's not your fault you left. We were only nineteen - immature and green about love," Harry said in a comforting voice.

"I was so silent with others around. I think... I think I was embarrassed to admit that I loved you - and I never did, not until now."

"I didn't either," Harry said, "That year after the war was over, we were just high on victory. We didn't know what we were doing..." he paused, "Well... I did," he added on quietly.

Draco smiled and put his hand on Harry's back. "So did I," he said causing Harry to look up suddenly, an expression of shock and disbelieve on his face.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but never let Draco answer. "Why did you leave then, with no word or a letter or anything? I was so worried for days and finally, I decided you never cared."

"Oh, no," Draco said, "I told you, I was embarrassed."

"Of me?"

"Of myself and my feelings for you, but not because of you. It was me, not you at all," he answered with a warm smile.

"So, I didn't do anything wrong?" Harry asked with bright eyes.

"Not a thing," Draco assured him, the storm in his grey eyes softening to that gaze Harry knew all to well. He had seen it many times before, but never too much.

With his hand still on Harry's back, Draco leaned over slowly, slightly hesitantly and pressed his cold lips against Harry's for the first time in eight long years. Familiar and welcome electricity ran though him from his lips to his fingertips to his toes. He savored every sweet, brandy flavored second until Harry pulled back, a smile on his face.

"That's why you came back, isn't it?" Harry asked kissing Draco's cheek, "Because you regretted leaving?"

"Yes," Draco said with a half-laugh, "I was stupid then, and I didn't know what precious treasures I was leaving behind. And, I'm sorry."

"Welcome home, Draco," Harry said in a whisper as he kissed Draco gently. The warm firelight encircled them, holing them tightly. Draco's fingers gingerly untied the bow holding back Harry's long raven hair letting it fall freely around his face. Pulling back, Draco rested his forehead against Harry's and lowered himself, and Harry, slowly to the soft carpeted floor in front of the hearth.

Then gently, passionately, tenderly, slowly they made up for eight years of lost time - of lost love found again. And... so it goes.

"But if my silence made you leave

Then that would be my worst mistake

So I will share this room with you

And you can have this hear to break

And this is why my eyes are closed

It's just as well for all I've seen

And so it goes, and so it goes

And you're the only one who knows

So I would choose to be with you

That's if the choice were mine to make

But you make decisions too

And you can have this heart to break"