A Greater Part of the Way

A Greater Part of the Way

Harry lowered the magazine and peered over the rim of his glasses at his partner. Draco was sitting in his favourite spot, a huge, comfy armchair, and was completely engrossed in his book, an old codex preciously covered in printed leather. An empty glass was placed on the side table next to him. One of his long legs was tucked underneath him, the other one was stretched out, its heel resting on the edge of the sofa, only a scant inch from Harry's foot.

Pensively, Harry put the book aside and let his gaze wander to Draco's bare foot. For some time, he simply marvelled the beauty of it - the cream coloured skin, so pale and thin that he could see the blood being pumped through the blue veins beneath it, the graceful arch of the instep, the slim, long toes Draco used to wiggle in the most erotic way.

Like he did right now. Harry stared at the curling toes, and unable to contain himself, he nudged his ankle against the sole of Draco's foot. Immediately, the movement stopped. Still undeterred, Harry began rubbing his ankle gently against Draco's heel, only to have Draco withdraw his foot.

Disappointed, Harry cast a sidelong glance at Draco who had his nose still buried in the pages of his book. Yet a small frown had appeared between his brows, creasing his forehead. Whether it was from concentrating on the presumably complicated text or from annoyance Harry could not tell. He stifled a sigh, ignoring the tension rising inside him, and decided to go for some wine instead.

He grabbed his empty glass and raised it questioningly at Draco. "You want some, too?"

No answer. The frown deepened.

"Draco? Some wine?"

"Hmm - mh?" Draco lifted his face, an enervated look in his eyes. "What?"

"I'm getting another glassful for myself. Want one too?"

Draco nodded briefly and returned his focus back upon the book. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He snatched Draco's empty glass, curling his little finger around the hem as he ran his free hand across Draco's cheek, relishing the warmth and smoothness of his flawless skin. Draco looked up, a tight smile flickering across his face so briefly that Harry wondered whether he hadn't just imagined it. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he saw Draco genuinely smile at him.

Harry longed to touch him, to let his fingers away wipe the crease between his brows and then get lost in those silky strands. He loved Draco's hair, loved to tangle his fingers into it when they snuggled. Except that they hardly did that any more.

"Draco." Harry tentatively laid his hand on Draco's shoulder, letting the tip of his index finger gently caress the soft curve of Draco's neck.

"Huh? What's up?" Despite the easy tone, Harry could feel Draco's muscles tighten under his fingertips. "Harry? Look, I really have to concentrate on this." Again, a quick upward jerk of the left corner of his mouth - a faint reminder of his lop-sided grin that had never failed to make Harry's stomach flutter.

Draco tilted his head to one side and nuzzled his chin against Harry's hand. A wave of warmth emanated from this touch, spreading throughout Harry's nerves, its unexpected intensity causing his breath to hitch briefly. He bent down to kiss Draco's temple, the baby-fine hair was tickling his lips, and his mouth-

"Harry," Draco said, the slightly strained tinge in his voice indicating that he was, in fact, being very, very patient right now. "Harry, dear, please do get me some wine, will you?"

Harry drew a steadying breath, and, quelling a snappish reply, wandered off to the kitchen wordlessly. A slight grumble in his stomach reminded him that he had yet again had to worked through, and thus, he decided to have some bread and cheese with his wine.

Yet, both the tiny morsels in the breadbasket and the void in the WizFridge quickly disabused him of that notion - not only had Draco all too obviously forgotten once again to go shopping, he had also - again - ruined what edibles remained by stuffing some indefinable potion into the fridge. The reek emanating from the numerous phials nearly made Harry gag. Fuming, he banged the door shut and leaned his head back to exhale deeply. That spoilt, selfish brat! He had had a fine lunch with Mummy, for sure. Feeling his hackles rise, Harry grabbed both wineglasses and returned to the living room.

Draco was determinedly concentrating on his book, a tiny frown still marring his features. Vexed, Harry placed Draco's glass not too carefully onto the side table and glared at his partner.

"Whoops, Harry, take care!" Draco put his codex aside, drew his wand from his pocket and quickly cleaned up the drops of wine Harry had spilled.

"Sorry," Harry replied, the hiss in his voice finally attracting Draco's attention.

He raised his eyebrows at Harry questioningly. "Uh?"

Harry breathed deeply. "You forgot to buy cheese."

"Yes - why should I? I wasn't out tod-"

"No, of course not! You haven't bought anything. Again! What the fuck have you been doing all day? Apart from brewing potions that smell as nasty as possible, that is?"

Draco's brows nearly disappeared under his hair line. "Would you mind calming down? I have been working all day long, and - there is no need to snort! Just because I'm working at home and not forced to save the world on a daily basis doesn't mean that I'm loafing off!" He straightened up a bit, his chin raised, his lips curled. "Besides, might I remind you that you have a house-elf, and weren't you too stubborn to let it fulfil its duty, we would-"

" Dobby can do whatever he wants to! He is not my servant! I won't-"

"Neither am I!" Draco seethed, his icy eyes shooting daggers at Harry. "How dare you-"

"I didn't mean that! And you know that! But Dobby is-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, have mercy!" Draco threw his arms up in theatrical surrender. "Not the same old story again! Your house-elf - your decision. But stop complaining!" Draco picked up his book again and sank back into his chair.

Harry gasped for air. "That's all you've got to say? I begged you about ten times to go shopping! I'm fucking starving, and you can't be arsed to give a damn?"

Silence lasted between them for several seconds, and then, to his utter annoyance, Harry heard Draco chuckle. "Starving? You're such a drama queen, honestly." Draco's hand sneaked along the armrest and rubbed against Harry's stomach, sending tiny jolts of pleasure throughout his body.

"Poor Harry." Draco purred, yet with a mocking undertone to his voice, and Harry couldn't shake off the uneasy sensation of his weakening yet persistent anger mingling with a growing arousal and a strangely desperate tenderness.

"Didn't have lunch today, mh?" Harry shook his head in silence, mesmerised by the knot of warmth forming in the pit of his stomach, dissolving his moroseness.

"Why didn't you tell me, silly? I would have ordered something for you." Draco smiled benignly at him, wrinkling his nose in the cutest way as he tickled Harry's abs. Running his hand across his forehead as if to wipe the discomfort away, Harry was about to lean into Draco's touch, but his partner had already turned away from him, resuming to study his book.

Harry sighed, trying to struggle down the unpleasant sensation of being given the fluff once again. He crawled back onto the sofa and picked up his magazine, but neither the technical nor the historical aspects of American Quidditch succeeded in fascinating him any longer. Not even heavily built players pictured inside drew his attention and this was only marginally because of the armour-like gear they hid their considerably decent bodies in. A 'decadent way of ruining a respectable game', Draco had complained, wrinkling his aristocratic nose, and Harry had snickered at him calling anything decadent.

Skimming uneasily through a few pages, Harry found himself yet again unable to tear his mind away from the imagined sensation of Draco's feet rubbing with his, or the softness and smell of his hair and skin. To distract himself, he stared determinedly at the new Canadian Seeker. Unfortunately, a tall blond athlete winking at him from the page was doing little to help his case. Feeling sulky, he put the magazine down again and grabbed the remote control of the TV he had insisted on buying for their flat, much to Draco's chagrin.

He turned the TV on, and the next moment the room was filled with the ear-splitting sounds of gunfire. Harry flinched and fumbled with the remote control to turn the volume down - or to switch channels - but too late.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry!" Draco groaned, lowering his book. "If you absolutely have to play with your Muggle toys, would you mind keeping them at an at least somewhat civilised and ignorable volume? I am, as it seems to have escaped your attention, trying to read."

"I'm sorry," Harry replied automatically, but before he knew it, he added, "You do know that this is my flat, too?"

Draco stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing, really. Only that I'd like to watch TV now."

"Okay, okay. Fine. Whatever you want. All I'm asking you for is to keep it at a reasonable volume, nothing else." Draco rolled his eyes and was about to bury his nose in his book again when another volley descended on their ears at full volume.

"Harry! Would you please-" Draco closed the book carefully, put it on the table and turned to face Harry.

"All right, all right! Simmer down already!"

"What's the matter with you? Honestly, you behave like a defiant child sometimes! Are you sulking because I refuse to share this unbearably simple-minded Muggle amusement of yours? Harry," Draco pressed his other hand against his temple and drew a deep, steadying breath. "All I want is read my book. It is a challenging text on complicated South American Potions, so please forgive me if I haven't been as attentive to your demands as you are obviously entitled to, but -"

Harry glared at him. "Oh yes, your precious book!" He gave the codex a vigorous shove, causing the cover to dog-ear. "Most important thing in the world, is it?"

Draco wasn't paying regard to him, though. He had picked up the book again and was busy straightening its maltreated cover. "Take care! This is an old and precious book from my father's library, and your obvious ignorance of its worth notwithstanding, I would ask you very much to handle it with the appropriate amount of respect."

Harry leaned against the back of the sofa, closing his eyes. Weariness washed over him, nearly paralysing him, and rendering it impossible for him to keep on quarrelling.

There was a time, still clear in his memory, when a statement like that would have laid waste to all reason. It would have made him yell at Draco, telling him that he'd better take that blasted book back to his father's library and stay there together with his prized heirloom, if he liked it so much. Draco - rage, anger, hurt, and disappointment in his eyes - would have yelled right back at Harry and ended the shouting match by slamming the door shut in his face. They would subsequently have ignored each other for several hours, sometimes even days, usually as long as they could make do without touching, kissing, shagging each other like mad.

There was also a time, even closer to his memory, when such a remark - slipped involuntarily - would have triggered a shocked gasp, followed by a considerably level-headed discussion and a heartfelt apology from his side; and afterwards an intense evening and night of tender lovemaking.

All that remained now was silence, a silence that wasn't companionable and comfortable any longer; as if it didn't seem worth the effort to argue.

Eventually, Harry managed to turn down the TV. For the rest of the evening, he kept gazing blankly at the screen, unable to muster any interest in the brave starship crew once again setting out to save the galaxy.

Draco resumed reading his book, but had Harry bothered to take a closer look he would have found it peculiar that it took Draco, whose quick grasp of Potions baffled even Snape from time to time, more than an hour to read one single page.

Later that night, after the obligatory sex, Harry lay awake, breathing in Draco's scent. Draco had turned his back to him, wrapped tightly into his duvet. Hesitatingly, Harry ran a hand through Draco's hair, eliciting a hushed whisper that might have been a caress. His heart thudded violently, his chest tightened with all kinds of emotions, unvoiced for so long and by now nearly choking him. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling nearly ill with the desire for contact. After what seemed an eternity, he rolled to the other side, away from Draco, dozing off into an uneasy sleep.

***

Running his index finger along the rim of the tumbler, Harry stared into the amber liquid as if trying to hypnotise himself. He had taken to visiting this bar almost every evening, pretending that he cared for the simple atmosphere. Or the extensive assortment of Firewhisky. Or the unobtrusive barkeeper.

In any case, it had nothing to do with evading to return to his empty flat, as Hermione had been asserting. Honestly, no wonder she and Ron were going for a divorce, what with her nagging and all.

No way - he knew that he was far better off alone, without Draco; and he had never failed to assure this to each and everyone during the last weeks, including himself. And it was the truth.

Only that... all he could think of was how perfectly his head had fitted into the curve of Draco's neck when they were lying on the sofa. How Draco had desperately fought against calling the tiny dots on the bridge of his nose freckles, and had finally thrown pillows at him when he had run out of arguments. How-

"Hullo, stranger. What do you say, may I buy you a drink?"

Harry jerked around, nearly swaying on his high stool. A lump formed in his throat. It couldn't possibly be-

Draco was smiling almost timidly at him, and Harry's unfaithful heart began to soar. Without thinking, he nodded at the barkeeper who eyed him questioningly and then, after pouring him another three fingers of FireTalisker, withdrew tactfully.

"Come here often?"

Harry gulped. "Yes. Quite frequently."

"I see." Next to him, two long, slim, achingly familiar hands were fumbling awkwardly with a glass. "Decent bar."

"Yes."

"Indeed."

"And comfortable to reach. A fireplace on their own."

"Yes. Offering a Portkey service, too, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"That's. That's comfortable."

"Oh, yes. Comes in handy. Yes."

Harry squirmed and grabbed his tumbler, downing most of its content in one swig. The next instant, he was coughing violently with tears shooting from his eyes, and he felt the liquid burn in his stomach where it mingled with a far greater, far more serious ache.

"Easy, Harry." A firm hand stroked his back, its gentle fingers stroking the fine hair on his neck, and God how much he had missed this. The pain in his stomach intensified, spreading towards his heart, constricting his throat.

With some effort, Harry turned around to face his former lover. Draco was gazing at him worriedly, contradicting emotions swirling in his grey eyes. His hand recoiled briefly but then resumed nuzzling Harry's neck.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Anxious about missing the right moment, about saying the perfectly wrong thing, he merely locked eyes with Draco, tilting his head to hook his chin over Draco's forearm. They sat like that for several minutes, wanting to break the silence yet unsure how to.

"You do realise that my arm's gone to sleep by now?" Draco said finally, offering a half-smile, his voice shaking a bit. Harry swallowed and pressed his cheek against Draco's wrist, not wanting to break the contact, not even for a split second. He let out a shuddering breath, trying to steady his fluttering nerves.

"Draco," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion and whisky. "Draco." Feeling awkward and definitely at a loss for words, he averted his face and curled his fingers around his glass.

He heard Draco exhale in a gush, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw him leaning onto the counter, his chin in his palms, his even longer hair hiding his face from Harry's gaze.

Harry shifted, feeling uncomfortable. He rubbed his forehead, desperately seeking the right words yet failing miserably. Taking the bull by the horn, he finally blurted out, "I never wanted you to leave."

"I. I know." Draco's fingers were playing with the assortment of small table mats, shredding one after the other into pieces, and somehow, Harry thought the fact that Draco was obviously equally nervous strangely comforting.

"But why? Why did you? Did - what did I do to - to drive you away?"

"Harry, no. Don't. You didn't - What has happened to us is not your fault, nor is it mine. Not entirely, at any rate."

Harry snorted, mirthlessly. "We've both fucked it up marvellously, now haven't we? Couldn't have done it better on order. Draco - why? What did happen to us?"

Draco lifted his shoulders and lowered his head as if wanting to hole up. "I'm not sure. I- we were happy once, Harry, weren't we?"

"Yes. Yes, we were." Unable to contain himself, Harry let his hand wander the few inches to cover Draco's fingers. Although Draco flinched briefly, he didn't draw his hand back and slowly began moving his fingers against Harry's.

Awkward silence fell upon them again. Harry racked his brain for the appropriate words to say, the sentence that would eradicate all the tension and the terrible misunderstandings that had added to the wall between them - to no avail. He peered at Draco who was biting his lip, his facial muscles twitching.

Finally, it was Draco who spoke up first. "You have resigned at the Ministry, I heard. And rumour has it that you're about to step down as a member of the Wizengamot as well."

Despite a twinge of disappointment at the topic Draco had picked, Harry was grateful for being on safe territory. "Yes. Have already, actually. Did ruffle some feathers, I can tell you," he grinned, recalling Mr- Minister Weasley's downright apoplectic stare.

Raising his eyebrows mockingly, Draco allowed a trace of his old smirk to flicker across his face. "I can imagine! Poor Ministry. But, Harry, why? You-" Draco paused, moving his fingers again, running his thumb across Harry's palm soothingly, but then he withdrew his hand. "You seemed to be so happy with your job, it seemed to mean so much to you."

"Yes," Harry snorted. "Harry Potter, the eternal hero."

Draco knitted his brows. "Harry, I was - I was only teasing you when I was gibing at your hero attitude."

"I know," Harry said, touched by the insecure tinge to Draco's voice. "You weren't that far off, though. Just another way of buying love, that's what you called it, wasn't it? But it was my decision to leave the Ministry's service - mine and no-one else's. I'm. I don't think it's what I am. No longer. Well..." He shrugged, as if to shake off unpleasant reminders. "Let's say I was simply fed up with protecting each and everyone. Done that job long enough." And it has cost me more than I was prepared to give, he added to himself.

Draco raised his chin. "I never wanted your protection, Harry. All I ever wanted was your faith." He had turned around and gazed steadily at Harry.

"Yes. I know. And I loved - love you for that, Draco." Harry's breath hitched, and, unable to bear the potential rejection, he tore his eyes away, fixing them onto his glass where the last few drops of Firewhisky glittered seductively inside. He indicated to the barkeeper for another refill, downing half of it the instant it stood in front of him.

"I have faith in you, Draco. Always have. I reckon I wouldn't have survived without you."

Draco snorted, curling his lips.

"You - don't you doubt this, Draco! All I got after the war was a pat on the shoulder, but you were there for me! All those years."

"Yes. As you were there for me."

"I don't know whether you are aware of how much it really meant to me that you were always there, that I could hold on to you, that you weren't scared away. I. You know I'm not good with words, but - that was so important to me, Draco. And I will never forget you what you did for me."

"I know." Draco swallowed audibly, and to Harry's dismay ice crept into Draco's eyes and voice. "But that's it, isn't it? You don't owe me anything, Harry - I did it for love, and you have returned the favour frequently, if I recall correctly. But it is over. I was important to you."

Harry gasped, appalled. "Draco, silly - you don't actually think that I don't love you any more?"

"No. No, Harry." Draco's voice softened a bit, yet his look remained faraway, and he withdrew his hands from Harry's approaching fingers. "I know that you still love me. It's just - I'm afraid that it mightn't be enough."

A stinging pain in his chest reminded Harry that he had been listening to Draco with his breath bated and he resumed breathing in long, steadying draw-ins which did nothing loosen the tension in his stomach.

He lowered his head. The time of nightmares were over, more or less, as were the times of accusations and crying and desperate attempts to cope, of numbness and acceptance. No longer were they haunted by dead friends and enemies whose looming shadows they hadn't been able to tell apart anyway. He would never forget, though, and neither would Draco, yet-.

"All I want is to lead a normal life, as normal and happy as it can get. With you." Harry gulped and laughed nervously. "I am undemanding, am I not?"

Draco smiled wistfully and ran the tip of his thumb tenderly over the faint remnants of Harry's scar, leaving a tingling sensation in the wake of his gentle caress. "You deserve it," he whispered.

"Then why - why can't we have it? Why did we fail?" Not taking heed of the pleading sound his voice had assumed, Harry leaned into Draco's touch.

"I don't know. Perhaps-" Draco hesitated briefly. "Perhaps we are too different after all. I mean, we never considered this, we never had to, being busy with things like nightmares and guilt and anguish. With surviving. We were good for each other during those times, but a relationship is truly challenged not by the turbulent but by the quiet times."

Harry felt a sudden apprehension at the final tone in Draco's voice. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, trying to hide the emotional uproar inside him.

"You mean that you don't love me any longer?" He flinched back from Draco's extended hands, a searing pain ripping at his belly. Draco remained silent, gazing at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face, and Harry lashed out. "Then why did you bother? Were they right all the time, that you were only with me as lo-"

"Harry, don't." Draco placed his index finger firmly over Harry's mouth, and Harry fell silent, quietened by the hurt look in Draco's pale eyes. "You know that isn't true."

"No, I don't!" He gasped and buried his face in his hands, ashamed of his outburst. "I'm sorry. I didn't. But - that's what I've been afraid of all the time. That. When you're not - distracted any longer. I've. Been afraid that I won't be able to meet your high standards. Once the hero has worn off." He mumbled past his fingers, pressing the knuckles against his lips.

His hands were seized almost violently and pulled from his face. Draco was staring at him, his grey eyes burning with intensity, hued blue as if a fire had been lit behind them.

"What? Harry..." Draco's voice trailed off, on the point of breaking. "God, Harry. Why. How can you. Believe something so - so stupid. So -"

Grabbing Harry's neck, Draco pulled his face closer until the tips of their noses collided. "You silly nitwit, you!" He whispered against Harry's mouth, and any reply Harry might have wanted to utter was crushed by a searing kiss.

Sobs and laughter, relief and anxiety formed a firm lump in Harry's throat, and he hiccupped. "Sorry," he muttered into Draco's shoulder, fighting down an almost childish urge to giggle. "It's the whisky," he declared with all the dignity he could muster.

Draco laughed shakily. "Ye-es," he mock-drawled, gently nudging Harry's nose with his thumb. "Sure."

Harry sobered a bit, though the light-headedness remained. "I - I tried to reach out for you. Continue to reach out for you, but I. I guess I didn't know how to. I've never been myself before. And suddenly you were so - far away. Sometimes."

Draco stroked his forehead and temple. "Harry, dear. Don't you think that I was afraid, too? That I wasn't harbouring the same fears? That you. Might." He paused, as if to muster his courage. "That you might not need me any longer, that one day, you would look at me with dispassionate eyes and not like what you saw? That what I wanted more than anything had been nothing but a mere illusion we both had wanted and needed to exist?" Draco's voice had grown lower, miserable, reduced to a mere murmur, and he averted his face, withdrawing his hands.

Every fibre in Harry cried out for Draco, but he was aware that it wasn't the time for meaningless vows. He stared at the wooden counter marred by deep scratches. Quite some time ago, judged by the worn look of it, someone had carved a heart pierced by a rose into the dark wood. And all at once, everything was clear to Harry.

"It's true that I needed you. But I needed you because I loved you, and this hasn't changed a bit. I. I might not-" Struggling to adequately couch his feeling, he nibbled at his lower lip. Looking up, he found Draco's mesmerised gaze fixed to his mouth, and a further part of his tension dissipated. "I might not need you the way I needed you back then, but I want you. Out of choice. My choice." He smiled, plucking at the soft tendrils of Draco's hair. "I have missed you, Draco. I miss you so much. I need you to be happy."

Draco's breathing hitched. His jaw was working, his fingers were kneading each other and curling into a fist, but he remained silent. Harry let out a shuddering breath, not daring to glance at Draco.

"Draco. I want you. I always have, and although I cannot promise you that I always will, I fail to imagine a time I won't. I want to finally start living, and I want you to share this life with me."

"It won't be easy. Happiness is hard work. There's more than war and death which can wreak havoc to a relationship."

"I know. I am willing to risk it, because I - I can't live another day and not risk it. Tell me that you want it, too." Harry placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, determined to stay here all night long.

"Silly. Why did you think I came here?"

***

"Draco?" Harry lifted his head from Draco's chest, placing a few gentle kisses onto the smooth skin.

"Mhm?"

"Who made you go to the bar?"

"What do you mean, made me? Let me inform you that I don't need-"

"Draco, please! Not only are you far too stubborn, but... A relationship is truly challenged not by the turbulent but by the quiet times. Happiness is hard work -? I know that you like to talk like a book, but-"

Draco uttered a muffled sound into Harry's hair, his limbs still tangled with Harry's.

"Malfoy, come on. Those gems of wisdom are not yours."

Draco grinned sheepishly, pulling a face. "Yet Malfoy gems they are. Brought upon me with great maternal force."

Harry jerked up, eliciting a groan from Draco as he hit his ribs with his elbow. "Ouch!"

After several minutes of making up for this accident - and provoking some more groans - Harry insisted, "You don't probably mean that your mother- Draco, you're joking! She - she despises me!"

Draco smiled affectionately. "Yes, she does," he said, nuzzling Harry's neck to make up for the honest reply. "But she loves me. And thus she kicked my arse. Merlin, did she kick my arse! If this of all possibilities must be your choice, than at least stop whining and stand by it, was her final advice. Literally threw me out of the mansion."

"You know," Harry purred. "Given these facts, I might actually take a liking to your mother."