Only A Whisper by ScarlettShannon

December 1st, 2005 – Early Morning


In Harry Potter’s slippers, Draco Malfoy raced down the front porch of their quaint little house. He paid no heed to the fact that the sidewalk was wet, slippery and snow-covered, and when he fell up his neighbor’s front steps, skinning his knee in the process, he hardly noticed. There was no moon this night, only starlight, as Draco pounded on Norine’s heavy oak door. He shivered in the cold and his heart was pounding in his chest. It was so dark. Why in the hell didn’t Norine have an automatic porch light?

He felt a flash of guilt at knocking and waking her up at this hour. Norine was a lovely, good-natured single mother who worked two jobs. Once in a while during a rare spare moment, she invited Draco and Harry over for a drink. Sometimes the boys baby-sat for Norine’s eleven month old daughter, Susanna. They were close friends, and so Draco hoped she wouldn’t be too terribly upset at the intrusion. As he remembered his reasoning for being here at such a late hour in the first place, he knocked again, more fiercely this time. It was several agonizing minutes later, when, with Draco at the point of giving up, Norine opened the door in a fuzzy green bathrobe. Her dirty blond hair was up in a messy ponytail and a sleepily confused expression greeted Draco’s alarmed and frightened one.

“Draco?” she asked precariously. “It is-“ she grabbed Draco’s arm and glanced at his wristwatch through half-awake, misty eyes, “three-thirty in the morning. Are you all right?”

“I need to ask you a big favor, Norine.” He leaned one arm against the door post and leaned in slightly, speaking quickly and quietly. “It’s just - Harry. Norine, I woke up, and he’s no where to be found. Listen… and the car is gone.” He made a sound that was a mixture between a nervous chuckle and a terrified whimper. “Either I’ve been high-jacked, or Harry’s taken it - somewhere.”

“But why would he…” she began, her eyes widening in wonderment. “Were you two arguing?”

“No, not even close! I mean, you know how things have been in the past, but he’s been all right lately. Really all right! Well… except for -”

“What?”

“A few hours ago he had another one of those damned dreams. I just… God, Norine, I’m so sorry about this, I know you need your car in just a few hours.”

She held up one finger and then turned on her heels, quickly disappearing up the dark staircase. A night-light on in the kitchen eerily lit up Norine’s small living room, which was strewn about with baby cloths and toys and other odds and ends. He recalled much happier times spent in this room, full of drinking games, Monopoly, and Poker, which Draco had developed a liking for. He recognized one of Harry’s Muggle romance novels sitting on the end table; Norine had borrowed it from him. Draco managed a slight smile; he was always having a go at Harry about his slight obsession with the books.

Sighing, he leaned his forehead heavily against the door frame and felt himself begin to shake. What he wouldn’t give to just know where Harry was so he could go get him and bring him home. He had a bad feeling that Harry was drinking again. Not that Harry didn’t have a drink every now and then, or that Draco had any problem with it, but he had promised not to do it alone anymore. There was never a happy ending to that story. God, he needed to find Harry.

“Draco?” She was back at his side. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and he looked up into her worried eyes. In her other hand, outstretched towards him, were her car keys. “Don’t worry if you’re not back by six, okay? I can always catch the bus.”

“I’ll have it back for you, I promise I will.” Draco told himself that he would find Harry by then. He would find him before then, with plenty of time to spare before six even rolled around. “Norine, you truly are my angel. My lifesaver. I am so grateful to you… thank you.”

“I told you, don’t worry about it. I would do anything for you boys. Just go find Harry, okay? Get him home. I’m not going to be able to sleep until you get back here with him.”

Draco frowned guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he began. “You’ve got work. I know I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

She playfully ruffled his hair, which Draco realized must have been sticking out at all imaginable angles, as he had just woken up. “Yes, you should have. I’m glad you did. Just go on now. I’ve got to make a bottle for Susanna anyway; she usually wakes up to eat about now.” Norine smiled reassuringly.

Draco smiled back at his friend. He knew that she was lying. Susanna was almost a year old and had been sleeping through the night for months now. He realized, not for the first time, that Norine was an irreplaceable person in his life. She had come through for him many times before now. He nodded and began to descend the staircase, gripping the rail tightly as if he were afraid his body would just give out and collapse. He turned back to Norine one last time as he reached level ground again. She had the door halfway closed now, and was shivering slightly as she wrapped her flimsy bathrobe around herself.

“You’d better call me when you get back so I know everything’s okay.”

“I will. Thanks, Norine.” Draco waved as he turned quickly and made his way to the car parked in front of her house. She drove a little blue car, with just enough room in the back to fit Susanna’s car seat. He unlocked the door and stepped in, immediately firing up the ignition and turning on the heat. The car smelled like cigarettes and even though Draco had quit a couple of years back, the scent immediately began to relax him.

He sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel and forcing himself to think about where to start his search. All his body seemed to want to do was burst into tears and scream. He had wanted so much for Harry to be better. And he wanted him to be here now. He didn’t know what had gone wrong. Their night had been completely normal and cheerful before the dream. Harry had laughed. He had smiled up at him. Draco had almost completely forgotten why they were in Chicago in the first place.

Draco put the car into drive and set off at a nervous pace; it was somewhere in between a leisurely and a fast pace, as his nerves simply wouldn’t allow for either of those extremes. He figured his best bet was Carpenter’s: It was Harry’s favorite dance club. The place was a little too recreational and bright for Draco’s taste, but their mai-tais were to die for. He even recalled Harry mentioning having a craving for the drink earlier in the week. He hoped and prayed that he was right, and that Harry was there - and in one piece.

~*~*~*~

April 17th, 2000 – One year after Harry’s defeat of the Dark Lord.

“You know that no matter what, I am coming with you. But you shouldn’t be taking advantage of the fact, Potter.”

“How am I? What’s the matter with Chicago?”

“I suppose… well, I don’t know very much about the place, but…” Draco tried quickly to come up with a reason why this particular American city should not become their new home. Both boys were leaning over a gigantic book in one of the many dimly lit libraries of the Ministry of Magic. The book listed most of the major cities of the world, and their stats, pros, and cons as far as the average wizard would ever want or need to know. So far Draco had shot down every American city Harry had suggested.

“How about Sydney? I think you’d like it there.” Draco tried to flip the page from Chicago, but Harry was holding it down firmly with the flat of his hand. He was gazing fixedly at the pictures at the top of the page. One showed the skyline of the city against Lake Michigan at night. The many tall towers were gleaming in the dark night, bursting majestically with an internal light all their own. The brilliant urban scene almost left Draco in awe before he caught himself. Then suddenly the skyscrapers were shining under a full sun. The grandeur and the life that seemed to radiate from the city surprised him. He could just make out a large spinning circle to the right of the towers, and he heard Harry mutter, “Ferris wheel,” under his breath. Before he could fully take in the sight, the scene turned to night once again.

Harry sat down and took the book into his lap, beginning to scan the article. “Draco, Chicago has a ‘fast-paced night life’. I know that’ll be a plus for you. ‘A melting pot of ethnic diversity’, and there’s lots to do - there’s art, museums, music, theatre… every kind of restaurant you can possibly imagine listed here. Oh, listen to this! ‘Chicago is one of the only major cities in the world that is completely Muggle-run, Muggle-maintained, and Muggle-built. Witches and wizards are frequent visitors to the city, especially those who are fascinated by the Muggles in their purest environment.’”

Draco opened his mouth to say something quite nasty, but at the hopeful, almost excited look in Harry’s eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. All superstitions and fearful childhood notions of the American witch-burnings aside, he had to admit that Chicago seemed to be the perfect place for Harry.

Since the end of the war, Harry had been hounded day and night. Not just by the Daily Prophet and their reporters (though they were avid followers), but by his multitude of admirers and fans. Most of them were good-natured, but a number of them were obsessive to the point of pure ridiculousness. Maybe some distant belief of Harry’s had been that after he had defeated Voldemort, had proved himself, had done what he had been born to do - the publicity would stop. A normal life; Draco knew that was all Harry wanted. Now Harry was being driven insane by the very world he had saved.

Draco winced at his own thoughts; although he wished very much for the fact to be untrue, his lover was not doing well at all. In the beginning it had just been a huge annoyance, a constant disruptor of his lifestyle. But then he had taken to staying inside his London flat almost all of the time to avoid any scenes. Whenever Draco managed to get him out, he insisted upon wearing his Invisibility Cloak. Draco had had to reserve the library to be completely empty so that they could embark upon this particular visit at all.

Arguments had broken out between Harry and all of those who he had been close to. Ron hadn’t taken the fact of Draco with much humility at all, but that reaction was nothing compared to when Ron found out Harry wasn’t coming to his wedding. Ron had flooed over immediately upon finding out, and they had had a major row. When Draco came by after work that evening, he found Harry sitting on the floor next to the couch in the corner of the darkened room, head hung between his knees and shaking hands gripping the back of his neck tightly. Empty bottles of cheap beer littered the ground in front of him, and although no tears were falling, his face was blotchy and his eyes red.

Draco had comforted him the best he could. Had told him that eventually Ron and Hermione would understand. But he knew that it wasn’t enough. Things continually worsened, and eventually Harry wouldn’t see or speak to anybody but Draco. He was completely paranoid and afraid of the outside world. Harry’s friends sought Draco out whenever he was behind his desk at the Ministry of Magic. First and foremost they would ask how Harry was doing, and then they would beg and plead with Draco to do something. Draco would nod and tell them that he would try. He knew that he was the only one who could help him - it was just so hard to really imagine there being anything seriously wrong with Harry. Whenever they were together, over at Harry’s flat or at Draco’s, he seemed so normal. He was beautiful and amazing… in every way he was still the guy who had captured Draco’s heart all those years ago.

But then, there were the times that Draco had put out of his mind. Once, Draco woke up and Harry wasn’t in bed. Draco got up and found him staring out the window, crying silently, the old photo album of his parents lying open on the floor next to him. Draco questioned him, but at times like these, there were never any real answers. More times than Draco cared to remember, he had been awakened by Harry’s screams and moans. Always ‘just a nightmare’, Harry reassured him. But Draco always noticed the real tears streaming out of his lover’s eyes and saw how painfully hard Harry had gripped the sheets. He had heard him screaming Sirius’ name. Crying out for his mother. Begging Dumbledore for help. Time and time again.

Draco couldn’t ignore it any longer. Harry needed help, and Draco was going to be the one to save him. He was going to take him away. Anywhere Harry wanted. Anywhere at all…

“They aren’t going to burn me in Chicago, are they?” Draco asked meekly, a small smile on his face. He wanted Harry to see that he was giving in. The images and descriptions of Chicago had sparked something inside Harry. No other place had had such an effect. And the limited amount of wizards in the town was going to be so good for Harry. Ninety-nine percent of them would have absolutely no idea who he was.

To Draco’s great relief, Harry actually laughed. He stood up, placing the book on the table as he began to shake his head slowly, a soft smile on his face. “Of course they won’t. I love you,” Harry whispered. “I love you so much for doing this for me.”

Inside himself, Draco felt a portion of the huge weight on his shoulders disappear. He wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed his shoulder, then turned his head to kiss his cheek. “I love you, too,” he whispered back. “You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Those three words between them were always hushed, whispered and seldom. Harry wanted it that way. His only explanation was that there was less chance of them slipping away that way.

~*~*~*~

November 30th, 2005 – Early Evening

Draco was lying on his back along the length of the couch, watching television. It amazed him how accustomed he had grown to having the Muggle contraption in his home. In fact, almost his entire way of life was being lived the Muggle way. In five years, it had become a part of him. He still woke up most mornings and could hardly believe it. He had learned to cook - which was all thanks to the television - but he still simply couldn’t stand cleaning. He’d take out his wand for serious messes that he just couldn’t be bothered with. Harry would always laugh at him.

He heard the front door creak door open and then slam shut, jolting him out of TV-land. He sat up slightly on his elbows to peer around the corner and saw Harry hanging up his coat in the entrance way and then leaning over to remove his boots.

“How was shoveling?” he called sarcastically to the dark haired boy, who couldn’t really feel his fingers or toes at the moment.

“It’s cold out there,” Harry responded as he entered the living room, cupping his hands together and attempting to breathe some warmth into them. He smiled when he saw Draco stretched lazily across the couch. It was quite a comfortable couch, Harry had to admit; they had gone to at least a dozen furniture stores, Harry complaining the entire way at Draco’s picky tendencies. He had decided on a burgundy colored one with soft-leather material. Draco assured Harry that he recognized the designer’s name and that he was a wizard - and that was the only reason that their couch was so incredibly, amazingly, extraordinarily squishy and comfortable.

“Just look at you… all warm and cozy in here, making me do all the work…” Harry plopped down on the opposite end. Draco looked vaguely affronted and Harry just laughed.

“Potter, I was the one who told you to just wait until the street went to bed, and then just magic the damn snow out of the way.”

“Right! Good idea, Draco - while we’re at it, let’s just get out our old broomsticks and fly down the ninety-four to work in the morning!” Harry grabbed Draco’s bare feet with his cold hands, causing Draco to yelp and scurry up into a sitting position. He threw him his usual sneer, but these days there was no real anger behind the look. Even as Draco’s silver-blue eyes bore into Harry’s emerald ones in distaste, they gradually softened at the corners and his mouth slid into a slow grin.

“Get over here,” Draco ordered, “and watch the end of Smallville with me.”

“Oooh, Smallville!” Harry exclaimed as he crawled over to Draco’s end, positioning his head in his lap and turning so that he could see the screen. “Is it a repeat?”

“Yeah, we’ve seen this one before. I’ve been noticing something, though…”

“What’s that?” Harry turned slightly so he could see him. Draco began subconsciously running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Clark reminds me an awful lot of you.”

Harry started to laugh.

“No, really! Not just looks either, but the character. He’s Superman, you… you’re pretty much Superman. Same job description.”

Harry turned back to the screen. It was a scene between Clark Kent and Lex Luthor. “What about his ‘nemesis’? I’ve never really understood that about this show. Clark and Lex are supposed to be enemies. But look, they are always saving each other’s lives and sharing this friendly moment right before the end of each episode.”

Draco smiled and gently turned Harry’s head to face him. “See what I mean?” He waited until Harry’s eyes widened in understanding and then he leaned down to kiss him.

Harry sat up a bit so Draco could get more comfortable. He moved from his sitting position to lying stretched out on his side beside Harry. One arm moved protectively around Harry’s chest and he leaned his head against his other palm. As his elbow came down to rest on the couch cushion, the channel changed, making both of them jump. Evidently the remote control had embedded itself within the couch somewhere and he had triggered it.

A scholarly-looking man was speaking; the backdrop of the screen was of an antique library. The sudden deep voice that filled their living room caught both boys’ attention.

“Spontaneous human combustion is the alleged burning of a person's body without a readily apparent, identifiable external source of ignition. The combustion may result in simple burns and blisters to the skin, smoking, or a complete incineration of the body…”

Eerie music and several photographs of such findings danced across the screen, to both boys’ utter revulsion and dismay. Draco began digging in the couch to find the remote.

“That’s… that can’t be real, can it?” Draco asked, beginning to search more frantically. “I mean, this is another one of those made-up Muggle stories… am I right?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I’m pretty sure this is real.” He stared at the screen with rapt attention. He wanted to look away, but felt compelled to watch. Draco, on the other hand, had his face turned towards the couch to avoid the screen, and was searching still for the remote with no luck.

“Does the wizarding world know about this? I mean - what the hell? It’s clearly dark magic!”

“I’m sure they know.”

“Will you stop watching that shit and help me find the blasted remote, Potter?”

Harry finally turned to look at him. Draco’s whole arm was submerged in between the cushions. “Aha!” he exclaimed as he pulled the remote out, finally. He immediately changed the channel back to Smallville. The credits were rolling down the screen as the theme song played. Draco was visibly shaken.

“That really freaked you out, didn’t it?” Harry turned around so that they were completely facing one another.

“What’s with these damn American Muggles and their fire? That’s all I want to know…”

Harry ignored his desire to laugh, not wanting to bruise Draco’s ego. He removed his glasses and placed them on the end table, and then he put his arms around his lover’s waist and moved his face as close as he possibly could to Draco’s without touching. The blurred image of the blond haired boy smiled and Harry felt Draco’s arms encircle him.

The transition from bitter cold, to wonderful warmth, and now this extreme closeness had Harry’s blood rushing. He wrapped his arms tighter around Draco and thrust against him, pinning him against the couch. Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Harry’s cock grind against him.

“I don’t know about spontaneous comBUSTion… but what about spontaneous COMbustion?” Harry asked with a grin, snickering to himself. Even as he was saying it, he knew it sounded stupid. Draco snorted, trying to contain his laughter.

“Harry James Potter. You are absolutely the strangest boy I know.” Draco smiled, moving his face closer so that their noses were touching. At the same time he thrust gently back at Harry, their erections meeting, struggling through the layers of clothes. Harry gasped and under Draco’s intense gaze he was rendered completely helpless.

“And that’s what I love about you,” Draco whispered, closing the short distance between their lips.

~*~*~*~

December 1st, 2005 – Midnight

Eventually they fell asleep together on the couch. Beneath several soft, thick blankets, the boys lay together completely unclothed. Harry had settled on top of Draco, and the blond haired boy’s arms were wrapped tightly around him. For several hours they slept this way comfortably, until Draco awoke suddenly. He could feel Harry shaking on top of him, moaning unintelligibly every so often in his sleep. One of Harry’s hands was clutching his arm so hard that he was sure there would be a bruise later.

Draco’s heart dropped. Not another dream. Harry hadn’t had one in months. He’d been doing so damn good. In another couple of weeks the doctor was going to let him off his meds. That is, as long as Harry had dreamless sleep for six months.

Frustration for Harry filled Draco’s heart. For over five years now, Harry had been fighting. Not against any outward evil, as his entire childhood had been spent, but fighting against the mental evils inside himself. Harry knew there was something wrong and he admitted it - that was why he had been so keen to get away with Draco, because he acknowledged his problem and he wanted to get better. Dr. Laurenzi had told them that just admitting it was half the battle. Then why in the hell had it taken them five years to get this far? Why wasn’t Harry through this yet? Why couldn’t Harry have some peace?

Sitting up slightly, he stroked Harry’s hair, his back resting against the arm of the couch. Of course, compared to how horrible things had been once, Dr. Laurenzi seemed to be a miracle worker. He was among the few wizards residing in Chicago. In the beginning, this fact had frightened Harry. They soon found out, though, that the young doctor had only ever seen Harry’s name once or twice in American Wizard papers. Apparently, most American Wizards thought that ‘Harry Potter’ was nothing but a myth.

Draco had been in the lobby anxiously waiting for Harry after his first session with Dr. Laurenzi. He didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t to SEE Harry. He had gone into the office under his invisibility cloak, and he had come out visible. He was shaky and nervous, and the moment he saw Draco he hurried awkwardly to his side and smiled shyly, as if he hadn’t seen him in years. Draco had burst into tears on the spot. After that, Draco had hoped for a quick recovery. Yet progress had only ever occurred suddenly, with a lot of time in between. Draco had almost given up several times, only to be taken by complete surprise. It was this that kept them here in Chicago, and kept them hopeful. And here they were, five years later.

Draco rocked Harry’s upper-torso gently. He was shaking harder now, and tears were streaming freely down his lover’s face. “Harry,” he whispered. “Baby, wake up. It’s okay, I’m here.”

Harry’s eyes opened suddenly. He stared fixedly at the floor for a moment before he made any movements or sounds; then he looked up at Draco, his eyes completely unreadable. Draco bent down slowly and kissed him on the forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. Harry said nothing. He moved, stretched a little bit, and then turned to rest his head on Draco’s shoulder. Draco leaned back so that his own head was resting on the armrest, and then he just held him. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck. He was still a little shaky and Draco heard him sniffling. He rubbed his back slowly and just held him tighter.

“God… I’m sorry, Draco, I really am.” Harry whispered dejectedly.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault, okay?”

Harry let himself slide down until he was resting his head against Draco’s chest again. “I’m supposed to rid my mind of any feelings before I go to sleep. Funny how Doctor Laurenzi and Madam Pomfrey’s fix for bad dreams is the same…”

“What were you thinking about?” Draco asked curiously. Harry didn’t move, but Draco could feel Harry smile against him.

“You, you great prat,”

All the color drained from his face. Draco felt so damn guilty, though he knew there was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent this. What was he supposed to do? Ignore him? He was entirely glad that Harry couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, but Harry didn’t have to see him. He already knew.

“Don’t feel bad. Please. If it wasn’t for you…”

“Don’t even think about that. That’s not possible. I’m here, you’ve got me, always. It’s as simple as that,”

He spoke quiet, reassuring words. That’s what Doctor Laurenzi told him to do. “Harry might seem okay now, but on the inside he’s still fighting the demons from the nightmare. Just make him forget it. It should be easy for you, Mr. Malfoy,” young Dr. Laurenzi told him over the phone when Draco had called during one of Harry’s bad episodes. “I can’t imagine having the kind of anxiety Harry is going through with that tight ass of yours around…”

Completely shocked, Draco had physically held the phone away from his ear and stared disbelievingly at it. Disgusted with the doctor, Draco had hung up on him. There was no way an outsider could really understand what Harry was going through. No one. But couldn’t they at least have a little respect? Draco was sure that even he only knew the half of it - but that was more than the rest of the world. He loved Harry and he was going to help him get through this. It was all he cared about.

Never mind that doctor. Despite all his less than modest approaches, Draco knew that he was a good doctor. Harry had progressed very far with him in his recovery, no matter how long it had taken or would take. He wasn’t about to suggest switching now. How could he tell Harry about something like that? How could he destroy the trust that Harry had formed in the only other person on Earth aside from himself?

“I love you,” Draco whispered.

“Love you, too.” Nothing but a whisper back. Only ever just a whisper.

~*~*~*~

Three Hours Later

Draco woke again with a start. Immediately he knew something was wrong. The warmth, the pleasant weight on top of him that had been Harry… it was gone. Draco shivered, though the room was well heated. He sat up, yawning despite himself, throwing the blankets aside.

“Harry?” he called quietly. No answer. He shifted uneasily and could feel his heart begin to race.

A little louder this time: “Harry? Where’d you go?” Still, there was no response.

He got to his feet and looked carefully around the room. The Christmas tree in the corner window was the only light source, its colors spreading across the floor is hues of pink and green. The coffee table before him was littered with mail and half finished cups of hot chocolate from the afternoon, by this time completely cold and unappetizing.

Feeling slightly foolish, Draco lowered himself to the floor and looked under the coffee table, but Harry was not there. A memory floated into his mind of the time he and Harry had attempted to have sex under there, but were completely unsuccessful. They weren’t contortionists, after all.

Still hunched with his head nearly touching the floor, his body snapped back up, suddenly instilled with frightened energy. He began to carefully check each of the rooms in the house. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He kept checking, even though he knew that he was alone. The house had that hollow, dead feeling about it that you only get in deserted buildings. Still, he kept checking. He would not be satisfied until he had searched from floor to ceiling.

“Fuck,” Draco said to no one, in a particularly high-pitched voice that he didn’t fully recognize. He was walking up the stairs after having checked every crevice and corner of the basement, but to no avail.

In the entry way, Draco opened the door a crack as he pulled on his black winter coat over his pajamas. His eyes had only half-way adjusted to the darkness and he only managed to find one slipper in the dense forest of footwear on the floor. Harry had a thing for shoes; it had been the first thing he’d bought on his own in Chicago. A pair of shoes - in a crowded mall, no less. Since then, Harry had a certain fondness for them. But at the moment, Draco wasn’t feeling quite so fond.

“Dammit, Harry!” In frustration Draco took his single slipper and chucked it down the hall, where it collided with the side of a bookcase in the foyer, creating a satisfying bang. He jammed Harry’s too-small slippers onto his feet, made sure his keys were in his pocket, and left, slamming the door behind him.

He had emerged into a kind of winter wonderland, and he smirked grimly. Harry needn’t have shoveled at all. Apparently it had decided to snow quite heavily through the night, and then become slightly warmer, as now the snow was slushy and quite slippery. He could still make out footprints, and his eyes followed them down the sidewalk, to the curb, where they disappeared. It took him a moment to realize that the car was gone. Harry had taken the car. When he peered two blocks down, he could see the snow plow moving merrily along on its way, having erased all possibility of following him.

Draco fumbled around in his pocket in aggravated confusion, pulling out his house keys he had earlier mistaken for the car keys. He considered jumping up and down in a mixture of rage, shock, and total mental overload, but thought it best not to create a scene. Instead he raced over to his neighbor Norine’s house.

~*~*~*~

December 1st, 2005 – Carpenter’s

Draco pulled into the parking lot of Carpenter’s and wasn’t surprised to find that he had a lot of choices. The weather was shit; it had taken him at least fifteen extra minutes to get there. As he began to pull into a spot, he caught sight of a jet black Mercedes Sport Sedan several cars over. He put on the breaks sharply, his stomach turning somersaults as he inspected it, holding his breath until he finally realized that it was his. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry was here.

He finished parking and ran quickly to the entrance, flashing his ID at the man at the door. The man spared him an odd glance before Draco hurriedly rushed passed him. With a sudden self-conscious pang, he realized how completely underdressed he was, and how stupid he looked, but he pushed those thoughts aside as he entered the main room.

The floor was made of dark pliable wood - good for movement. The walls were painted a hideous shade of gold, and gothic chandeliers were hung at odd interspersed intervals throughout the room. There were two bars, one at either end of the dance floor, and a partitioned square in the middle against the far wall, which was for the bands when they played and for DJs. Harry and Draco usually made the effort to come only on nights when bands played. This, however, was a DJed night.

The parking lot was not very full, but there was still a considerable amount of people dancing and milling around. A remix of a ballad was playing, and couples were attempting to slow dance to it. Draco scoffed at the ridiculousness of techno and how it completely ruined otherwise good songs.

Draco had never been to the bar on the left. For some odd reason they had always favored the one on the right, not out of preference but out of sheer habit. He headed that way, looking around him and searching all the while for messy hair and green eyes.

He found him sitting at the far right corner of the bar. Draco didn’t even have to see his face to know it was Harry. He stood several feet back behind him, facing him, gazing at the back of his head. Now that he had found him, and knew that he wasn’t going anywhere, he allowed his body to relax. Immediately his shoulders and back began to ache from the constant rigidity he had held over the past hour or so.

He took in Harry and his surroundings. He was wearing Draco’s blue dress-shirt, completely tie-less, and a pair of black pants with snow boots. His coat was slung over the back of the chair, hanging off one of the ends, with one arm gracing the floor. He saw at least eight empty shot glasses lined up on the bar before him. There were two more full ones in front of him, and he reached for the one on the left.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t know what to do. Should he be furious with him? After all, Harry had promised not to do this anymore. He had promised him, dammit. Didn’t that stand for something? Fuck. Harry had to have known how worried Draco would be when he realized he was gone. He had to have known how scared shitless he would be all night, searching until he found him. He didn’t know how Harry could just leave like that. Part of him wanted to just turn and walk away, and that thought made him sick.

“Hey, fella, d’ya know this character? I been keepin’ an eye on ‘em all night. Ain’t lookin’ so good. You oughta take ‘em home.”

Draco opened his eyes and looked up at the bartender who had spoken. He was a middle aged man with graying hair, a protruding potbelly, and a nametag that read ‘Mitch’. Harry started at his words, and slowly turned around in his seat and saw Draco. His eyes widened considerably and the hand that was gripping the shot glass started to shake.

Draco nodded at the bartender, who grunted and meandered over to the other end of the bar where more customers were waiting to be served. Draco finally looked at Harry. The look upon Harry’s face was not one that Draco expected to see. He expected guilt, of course. Perhaps uncertainty. He would even have expected total guardedness on his lover’s features before he expected this. Harry looked… afraid of him.

All anger diminished as Draco remembered that he was here of his own accord. Not just here in this bar - he was here in Chicago, here in the United States, here away from his home… he was here with Harry because he wanted to be. Nobody had forced him to open up and get to know Harry Potter all those years ago. He hadn’t had to respond to Harry’s kiss in the middle of the woods with death surrounding them. He hadn’t had to give up his life for this other boy. He had done this all because he wanted to. Because he realized that he had a choice. Harry himself had actually been the one to make him realize this.

He had a choice now, too. And he berated himself for even momentarily thinking about leaving the love of his life for his own selfish reasons and insecurities. He had known that coming here to Chicago was going to be hard. It was going to be hell. He had known that going into this. And he knew that he wouldn’t trade it for the world. The night they had spent together last night… not just that night, but all of the nights like that one. God dammit, that was all he needed to get through life. And one day – possibly - every day could be like that.

Today was a step back - true. But Draco reminded himself, how long had it been since something like this had happened? Harry had been practically himself for months now. No dreams. Nothing. Just Harry.

He took a seat next to him, knowing that this wasn’t going to be an entirely fun conversation at all; but he was going to try to make it as lighthearted as possible. And he was going to get that look off of Harry’s face.

“You, sir, are wearing my shirt,” Draco said, taking the glass out of Harry’s hand and placing it away from him. He chanced a glance. Harry no longer looked scared, but entirely confused. His eyes were slightly out of focus as he brought both hands down into his lap and began to nervously twiddle his thumbs.

“You looked like… just now, Draco… I thought… I thoughtchu were going to… h-hate me,” Harry stammered, slurring his words and looking at Draco with a somber expression despite the alcohol.

“That’s ridiculous; you know that, don’t you?” Harry just shrugged. Draco scooted his chair closer to Harry and gripped both of his hands in his own.

“You better listen to me, Harry James Potter. You are everything in this world to me, and I could never hate you. Not saying you’re not a royal pain in my arse sometimes, like right now, for example - but we’ll talk about that when you’re sober.”

“You aren’t going to leave me here?” Harry asked, tears forming in his eyes. Draco was stunned at Harry’s swift perception, and even more stunned at the fact that Harry perceived this all while completely smashed. At the same time, guilt was stabbing him in the heart and it was all he could do not to gather Harry into his arms.

The ballad changed to a fast beat. The music got louder. More people moved onto the floor around them, and Harry looked up at Draco questioningly.

“God, Harry,” Draco had to almost shout to be heard. “No. I’m not going to leave you, you silly git!” Harry smiled and then fell forward slightly against Draco’s chest.

Draco leaned his head closer to speak into his ear. “Why don’t you let me take you home, Harry? As it is, you’re not in any condition to dance.”

Harry started to laugh. He pulled away from Draco and rose unsteadily to his feet. Draco stood too, completely confused and hoping against hope that Harry hadn’t just taken that as some kind of challenge.

“Really? I don’t look it, doaye? But I’m ready for this…” He turned and melted into the crowd before Draco could blink. He sighed in slightly amused frustration.

“Harry!” he shouted, forcing his way into the crowd. He saw the messy head in front of him and just followed, pushing dancing couples aside quite roughly when they wouldn’t move fast enough. He watched as Harry bumped into several girls dancing together.

“Please, bitches, I’m trying to work the floor here!” The girls were too drunk to mind the insult that Harry himself probably wasn’t aware of giving, but they moved over for him anyway. Draco shook his head and followed still, not taking his eyes off of him, watching him bump into all of the moving, waving bodies around him.

Harry reached the middle of the floor, where there was a slight clearing of bodies. Acting as if suddenly confused as to what he was doing there, he glanced around. As his eyes scanned, a stunned expression appeared upon his face and he turned to face the wall, standing amazingly still even as bodies jostled him this way and that. He was still staring as Draco fought to make his way to him, and sufficed the urge to laugh at Harry’s drunkenly bemused expression.

“What the hell are you looking at?” Draco yelled loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry pointed up at the wall near the ceiling where a large banner was hung, bearing the name of the club: Carpenter’s. In the process he was knocked in the side by a particularly energetic dancing blond girl, and he lost his balance. He fell into Draco’s arms.

“Caterpillars?” he asked, gripping Draco’s coat. “What kinda wordis that for upther on that sign?”

Draco threw back his head and laughed loudly. What a night this had been. Harry put his arms around Draco’s neck and closed his eyes, beginning to lean heavily against him.

“Oh, no. You’re not passing out here. Come on, back to the car - and you can pass out in your own bed, all right?” Draco put an arm around Harry’s shoulders, supporting him out of the club. Harry kept his head down the whole way, staring fixedly at Draco’s feet.

“Well, we’ll just have to come back for our car sometime tomorrow,” Draco muttered to himself, as Harry wasn’t completely listening. Before they got into Norine’s car, Harry commented, “You, sir… you’re wearing MY slippers. Thanks.”

~*~*~*~

The Next Morning

Harry woke the next morning in bed. Draco’s back was up against his own. He could feel his deep even breathing. He smiled contentedly at first, and then frowned slightly, remembering his blurry memories from the night before. He’d put his lover through hell last night. And he was still kind enough to give him the hangover remedy charm. At least, he figured that’s what Draco must have done, because he felt great this morning. And as he tried to pinpoint it, he realized he could hardly remember why he had freaked out so bad. Hopefully that memory would just fail to resurface and he could go on about rebuilding his life.

He turned around and put his arms around Draco, who moaned in a deeply irritated way.

“Draco, there’s something I need to say,” Harry said quietly. “It will only take a minute.”

“You need to say it righ…” he yawned widely, “right this very, very second?” Draco asked, sounding muffled from being underneath all the blankets.

“Yes. Please? Real fast. I promise,”

Draco turned around and opened his eyes, sneering half heartedly at Harry.

“Draco Malfoy…” Harry began, having felt completely confident up until now.

“Uh-huh?”

“Draco Malfoy, I love you,” Harry said with a leap of faith. He stared hopefully into Draco’s eyes.

Draco just lay there completely still. His mouth fell open in shock. Harry had said “I love you” out loud. Clear as day. He was clearly nervous about it, but he had done it. Draco grabbed him and held him tightly, close to squeeing.

“God, I love you, too.” he said. Out loud. For the first time, ever. He cried into Harry’s shoulder. And for the first time, he was completely convinced in his heart that things were going to be okay.

Harry was no longer afraid to say that he loved him, which meant that he was no longer afraid of losing him. He had overcome something so grand. This meant that he really, truly was getting better. Last night could, quite possibly, have been the last horrible night of its kind. He knew better than to completely get his hopes up, but this was just such a huge step for him. If he could overcome this step, there was nothing he couldn’t do.

“I told you it would only take a minute,” Harry whispered. Draco pulled away and grabbed Harry’s face, kissing him passionately, all morning breath aside. Neither one really cared. The kiss deepened and then suddenly ended. Both boys just looked into each other’s eyes, in sheer celebration of each other.

Harry smiled and shook his head. “We can pick this back up later,” he said, turning around so that he was spooning in front of Draco. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Draco smiled back, nodding his consent, wiping his eyes as Harry grabbed his arm and pulled it around to encircle him. He really was exhausted. But it was going to be so hard to get back to sleep. Everything he had ever hoped for was finally coming true.

Fin