Should, Would, Could

Three days ago...

"Harry, are you sure?" he had said, almost hoping that he wasn't, and that he would turn away blushing like he always did, and that they could stay safely behind The Line.

But then Harry had smiled at him in the half-light cast by the windows of the Great Hall, casting all doubts aside. How could I be more sure? he had almost replied. Instead he had reached out and closed the distance between them. Just before their lips met, he whispered, "Yes."

It had been said so softly that Draco could have sworn he'd imagined it, except that Malfoys don't imagine things, and Harry was already kissing him, so the only thing he'd swear to was the startling revelation that, after all this time, perhaps Harry had been right about one thing - that this was possibly the most intoxicating feeling in the world.

When Harry had drawn back, he had softened the parting with a second, gentler kiss. A promise so exquisite in its tenderness that Draco had longed to tell him right then exactly how he felt, and that he'd always feel it, and that nothing in the world could compare to the sweetness of the dazed, happy expression on Harry's face right then, even if he lived a thousand years.

He hadn't. He had stared dumbly at Harry for several moments, knowing his feelings were shining in his eyes as he watched the boy who had so dramatically changed his life in the last few months. The boy he knew wouldn't need to hear what he couldn't say, because he could feel it in the almost desperate way Draco kissed him in the moonlight by the lake, the night before Draco left Hogwarts.

The present...

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, picking at his toast, his attention far away with him. Hermione leaned past Ron, who was engaged in a heated discussion about Quidditch with Seamus, to prod the abstracted boy.

"You should eat something, Harry," she scolded. "Malfoy..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip apologetically. Awkwardly, she motioned to the mangled toast. He forced a smile and she turned away, apparently satisfied.

Ever since Harry and Draco had become friends they had done everything together, including eat breakfast. It's like making up for lost time, Harry had explained once. No one had noticed that in recent weeks the two boys would be more likely to sneak off under Harry's invisibility cloak and have a quiet breakfast alone in the grounds. Hermione and Ron were preoccupied with each other, Ginny was busy cosseting Neville, and Dean and Seamus had never been the most perceptive of people. If anyone else had noticed that Harry and Draco tended to go missing at the same time they hadn't remarked on it.

Now, of course, Draco was gone, and Harry solemnly waded through the piles of toast Hermione persistently heaped on his plate when she could distract herself from her boyfriend, his eyes permanently fixed on Draco's empty seat at the Slytherin table.

It was irrational, he knew. Draco hadn't sat there since he had first been tentatively invited over to the Gryffindor table months ago. Harry could almost feel his warm presence by his side as he ate, still gazing unseeingly at the place where Draco should be. Except that he wasn't, and wouldn't be. Lucius had never been the easiest of people to deny. He couldn't blame Draco for leaving.

Yes I can. He shouldn't have gone. He could have stayed here with me. I would have protected him. I love him. Loved him. Harry didn't allow himself to think in the present tense. He had known when he had offered Draco his heart that Draco would be carrying it away with him. He had known when he committed himself to that achingly tender kiss that he would be losing a part of himself forever. He had known that no matter how much he wished for it, Draco wouldn't stay. He had known. But like the reckless Gryffindor I am I couldn't let him go without knowing for sure. And now...

Now nothing was 'for sure'. Without Draco, Harry functioned on autopilot. It was almost as though he'd never known a time without Draco by his side, without Draco's smile, without Draco's touch. In truth he had never known life without Draco, not since he had entered the wizarding world and become their Hero, their Golden Child. Draco had always been there. And now he wasn't.

Ron tried to banter with Harry as he had before, but Harry responded half-heartedly, leaving Hermione to shush her boyfriend with a wave of her hand. She herself attempted to get him to talk, but he shut her out with a muttered "I'm fine," and walked away. Neither of them understood what had happened. Neither of them had noticed the glances, the blushes, the hint of flirtation in their friend's conversation. To them, Draco was still Malfoy. An infinitely more pleasant version of their old rival, but still Malfoy. And why on earth would Harry miss Malfoy so much?

Because. Because he smiles when I smile. Because he frowns when I frown. Because he helped me let go. Because he let me hold on. Because he taught me to fly. Because he kept my feet on the ground. Because he is who he is and I am who I am and we are who we are. Because I love him. Loved him. Just because.

Harry stood and left the Great Hall without a backward glance.

The next day followed what was fast becoming routine. Harry stumbled out of bed at seven, having slept for a grand total of three hours. He exchanged pleasantries with his dormmates, a mask of calm firmly in place over the turmoil within. He almost hurried down to breakfast, sure that this time, that today, Draco would return. Even as Malfoy. Anything would be preferable to the hole that was eating away at Harry's heart. Draco had always been there. Always. At first sneering, bullying, fuming, yelling... then smirking, smiling, laughing, or even just looking. Something about the way Draco's eyes would automatically seek him out in a roomful of people had always made shivers run the length of Harry's spine. It still did, but of course now there was no Draco to find him. Harry was well and truly lost.

When he entered the Great Hall his pace slowed. Eagerly, he scanned the almost-empty tables for the platinum blond hair that would draw his eye. A flash of white made his heart skip a beat, until he realised that it was just Hannah Abbot's hair ribbon. He sank into his seat, beaten but not willing to give up. He would be here today. He would. Harry had seen in his eyes that night - oh, so long ago now - that if he could, Draco would return. He had to believe that. His head was telling him that he shouldn't pin so much on this, but his heart was stubbornly insisting with every beat that he should, should, should. Draco would return today.

The doors creaked open and Harry's head shot up in anticipation. It was Ron. Harry thought that this was possibly the only time in his life that he was not glad to see Ron. The redhead took a seat opposite Harry with a jovial "Alright, mate?", peering cautiously at him from across the table. Harry didn't answer, but Ron seemed satisfied, because he made a grab for the nearest source of food and lapsed into contented silence. Hermione arrived next, heading a group of girls who each made a beeline for their boyfriends. Hermione stalked up the row towards Ron, who gulped nervously, perhaps sensing that something was 'not alright' in the girldom.

"Ronald Weasley!" she began, alerting the entire Hall to her displeasure. Harry tuned them out. How long has it been since he left? He tried to count, but gave it up in favour of the far more generic answer - Too long. Harry could almost feel the pressure of the distance between himself and Draco. He got up and left the Hall, heading to the lake. As he walked he heard his words repeat like a mantra to his crumbling emotions. Too long. Too long, too long, too long...

Beside the lake, he stood in silence, waiting. How long he stood there, he didn't know. Too long, too long, too long... And then he was there.

Standing behind him, watching. He was rumpled and exhausted-looking, but it was Draco. And his eyes never left the figure by the lakeside. Harry. Harry, who was staring at him with a kind of desperate hope in his eyes that made Draco suddenly feel like running forwards and leaping into Harry's arms. He didn't. He was a Malfoy, albeit a disinherited disgrace to the name, and Malfoys did not run in public, no matter how much of a disgrace they were. Instead, he walked slowly on; his eyes fixed on the boy who was walking equally slowly to meet him. They stopped, inches from each other. The silence was deafening.

Then, slowly - so slowly that Draco almost didn't notice it at first - Harry smiled. "I knew you were coming back today," he murmured. His eyes were full of uncertainty, but his voice was sure.

"I know you did," Draco said in a near-whisper, believing himself as he spoke. He stood there, eyes locked on Harry's, until finally he swallowed and ground out, "I - Harry I - I couldn't do it, Harry - I couldn't stay away..." He felt tears rising in his eyes and he blinked them away angrily. When he refocused he saw Harry smiling again.

There was another long silence. Harry's smile faded to be replaced by a serious expression. He leaned in close, brushing Draco's cheek with his breath. Draco shivered. Their lips were millimetres apart wen he heard the almost silent acceptance of the offer he hadn't realised he'd made. "Then don't."