Sometimes Left

They were boys once. That's something people always seem to forget, in biographies or bedtime stories. They used to be two boys with green and gray eyes, they were two boys who made friends and enemies, joined teams and squads and armies. They weren't born with their lives already lived; Harry wasn't yet a hero and Draco hadn't ever really hurt anyone.

They were so busy hating each other that they weren't paying any attention when they fell in love.

But that's something that everyone always seems to forget.

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He always kisses Ginny with his eyes open. If he doesn't it's too easy to forget who he's touching, to call out the wrong name.

He always has to think to kiss her the right way. He knows she likes him to wrap his arms around her waist. He knows she likes him to touch her hair. It isn't hard to remember.

He always tries to find something to look at besides her face. He watches the fire burn out and grow cold. He watches Hedwig clean her feathers. He watches nothing.

He always can't help glancing back up and noticing that she has freckles on her eyelids. They're smaller and lighter than the freckles on any other part of her body, dusting over the thin skin like sparks. He wonders if anyone else has ever seen them.

He always wishes he'd never seen them.

He always thinks of blond hair and warm arms.

He always thinks of Draco.

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They never meet at Harry's house, because that would be too dangerous. Harry always goes to Draco.

Sometimes Draco isn't at home and Harry sits on the steps in front of his flat for hours.

Sometimes Draco is waiting just inside the door and he'll come outside before Harry's even halfway up the street and tug him into the house.

Sometimes they kiss so hard their lips bleed, teeth clashing together and drawing out copper flavored liquid.

Sometimes they fall to the ground and all it is is a race to take their clothes off because they need to be touching or else they might forget it's real.

Sometimes they don't even brush hands; they go to the kitchen and have tea and cookies.

Sometimes they talk, lights off and soft voices, and he forgets what they say because it's just a hum and a buzz of happiness.

Sometimes they fight, screaming hurting hating, and that's when he remembers who they are.

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He cries when he looks at her.

She is young and sweet and brilliant and innocent and everything a witch should be. She is perfect.

And he cannot make himself love her.

He cries because she deserves so much more than this; because she deserves everything she wants. She deserves everything he cannot give her.

She deserves to live her life with someone she loves; someone who can love her back.

He cries because he thinks he deserves it, too.

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The first time he ever went to Draco was the only time he ever slept through an entire night in Draco's house.

The first time they kissed it was Draco who grabbed his face in the middle of an argument and pressed their lips together.

The first time he found himself naked and sweaty in Draco's bed was the only time he'd allowed himself to feel everything, and cried in front of Draco.

The first time he said Draco's first name he was given kisses on his neck and a warm arm across his chest and happiness.

The first time he was really happy he closed his eyes and slept with his face buried in a warm neck and drifted into oblivion.

The first time he returned home was also the first time he lied to Ginny.

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Her lips are red as berries ready to be plucked from the vine and her skin is so freckled it is nearly brown.

He indifferently notes the contrast as she kisses him.

Draco's lips are so pale they nearly blend into his face (though Harry has seen them bruised from kissing), and his skin is almost translucent.

He remembers, and trembles in her arms.

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He thinks Hermione knows.

It's snowing and they are the only two still outside. Their lips are blue from cold and there are snowflakes in her hair.

He thinks she knows.

"Do you love him?" she asks.

"I can't help it," he answers.

He thinks she knows.

She is sad and he is sorry. She is his best friend and he loves her and he doesn't want to hurt her.

She's trembling.

"Ginny," she whimpers.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

He thinks she knows.

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He tries to leave her, sometimes.

At night, sometimes, with her beside him and his arms around her, he can't help but remember how different it could be.

His arms are around her and he is protecting her from demons and from darkness.

He tries to leave her when he slips his arms out from around her waist and is motionless and listens for her voice.

His arms are always around her because she needs a hero and she needs him but sometimes he needs a hero too.

He remembers waking up with Draco's arms around him and Draco's breath on his neck and he remembers being safe. Once, only once, but if he left it would be always.

He tries to leave her when he pulls his suitcase out of the closet. He stops again and listens to her even breathing.

She makes a small noise in the back of her throat and curls into the warm spot he's left on the bed.

No matter how hard he tries to leave her, he can't.

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He wonders sometimes why Draco doesn't hate him.

He thinks sometimes that what he's doing to Draco is crueler than anything he's ever done to another human being.

They see each other maybe once a week; when Harry can't stand it anymore. He comes regardless of the time of day; sometimes it's the middle of the night. And Draco always allows him in without a word.

And when it's time for him to leave, they never speak of future visits. They exist entirely in the moment.

He thinks if he was Draco, he would hate himself.

Because he could stay away for as long as he wanted, or stop coming entirely, and Draco would never know. He would always be waiting--just waiting.

But Draco greets him with a smile (usually), and lets him in without comment (sometimes), and doesn't says a word about Ginny (occasionally).

Sometimes he thinks Draco does hate him, and is simply putting on a very good show.

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She has always been bright and now she is planning her life and he is it.

It is breakfast and her lips are sticky with orange juice and his mouth is dry and cracking.

She is so bright she is glowing and she is telling him her dreams as if she expects him to make them all come true.

She is dreaming of an enormous house with children running all over the place, girls with messy red hair and green eyes and boys with freckles and glasses. She is imagining the two of them made one and she is smiling and cocking her head.

She is holding his hand over the table and brushing their toes together and her eyes are impish and she is telling him about how they'll live by the ocean like she always wanted to and they'll have a Quidditch pitch in the back yard.

He is her life and he wants to die but he's afraid it would kill her, too.

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He's in his room reading a book once when he hears a tapping at the window. When he goes to look, expecting an owl, he sees Draco throwing pebbles. He has to laugh a little, because who does that anymore?

He's in his room and he's calling for Ginny and pressing money into her hand. He's telling her to go buy those dress robes she wants--anything. And she's beaming at him because she still isn't used to having money and all she knows is that he loves her so much he wants to give her the world.

He's in his room and she's just disapparated and he feels like a bastard.

But soon enough it doesn't matter because Draco's in his room as well, and he's pressing chocolates into Harry's mouth. He has a sad sort of smile that Harry's never seen as he says, "You're ridiculous Harry, you know that?" and his eyes are bright and Harry wants to scream but he can't.

He's in his room, he's in HarryandGinny's room, but Draco's there and Ginny's not. And he's brought Draco into the rest of his life and somehow he thinks everything is different now.

Now he can't be in this room without remembering Draco. Now Draco is everywhere. Now he can't even pretend.

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He gets a little further the next time he tries to leave her.

He packs his suitcase and she's snoring softly and he's just watching her. It would be so easy to take off his shoes and unpack his clothes and pretend it never happened. And he can't do it.

He disapparates almost soundlessly.

He appears in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He could have gone to Draco's house but he's afraid if he does that he'll loose his nerve.

His hand is shaking a little as he presses the door open.

He enters directly into the pub and it's empty. But Tom's behind the bar and Harry hands him a galleon and takes out a room and tries to ignore the strange look he's getting.

He's trudging up the stairs to his room and he's almost to the top when he sees a little girl.

She's curled up asleep on the top step and her thumb is in her mouth and he smiles a little. He wonders if her parents know.

And then he sees that though she can't be more than ten years old, she has a book across her chest. He sees the title--The End of an Era: Harry Potter, You-Know-Who, and The Modern Magical Community. His heart sinks a little.

He's read this book before. They tell his story like it's a fairy tale. Once upon a time the little boy who didn't even know he was a wizard grew up and saved the world and fell in love.

There's an entire section on Ginny, on GinnyandHarry, and they make it sound so perfect. They interviewed them both, and he remembers it was summer and they were outside and holding hands.

He's gotten a few owls because of it, from all kinds of people. They say it gives them hope.

And they lived happily ever after...

The little girl's mouth is hanging open slightly and she's using her arm as a pillow.

He imagines future editions having an afterward.

...Until Harry couldn't love her anymore and ran away to live with another man.

He squeezes his eyes shut and apparates back home.

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Sometimes he wishes he could have fallen in love with someone else--

Hermione, Luna, Ginny--

Because then everything would be so easy. They would fall in love and marry and have dozens of children and grow old together. It would be so very easy.

Instead he has Draco, stolen hours with Draco, whispered promises from Draco, secret kisses for Draco.

Instead he has Ginny, who pours her soul into him and who needs him too much.

Things could be so easy.

But when he's with Draco--when they are wrapped in each other, when his sense are filled with Draco, when he can think of nothing but Draco--

He wouldn't choose to fall in love with anyone else, even if he could.

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Hermione asks him if he ever loved Ginny.

He wants to snap at her and tell it's none of her business and he never meant to tell her anyway.

He wants to, but she looks so sad and he knows he did that and he wants to fix it.

And he tries to think of an answer. Because he must have, once.

He thinks he might love her still. He thinks he might love her in the way he loves the whole world, in that way that means he wants her to always be safe and happy and smiling. He tries to remember if he ever loved her any other way. And he doesn't think he ever really did.

But that's not the kind of thing you can say aloud.

"I don't know," he says.

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Harry doesn't ever think things through. He never has.

He doesn't love Ginny. He doesn't think he ever has.

He doesn't plan to leave her. But he does.

She is visiting one of her brothers and he is all alone.

The house is filled with her things and he can't touch anything because they are all filled with her.

He's suffocating.

So he does what he's always done, and goes to Draco.

And this time, he stays.

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He isn't naïve enough to think that this is going to make everything perfect, suddenly.

He knows that tomorrow will be a parade of disappointed and angry faces--Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George. Ron. Ginny.

He knows that headlines will scream his name, and Draco's, and Ginny's.

He knows that people will glare at him when he walks by.

He knows that there will be hate-mail.

But for now he has Draco's arms around him and his face is buried in Draco's neck and the taste of hot chocolate is still in his mouth.

It's all he's ever needed.

It's all he ever will.