In the End It's Not Just You With Your Memories and Your Scars

Draco's flashback.

Draco walked out of the courtroom, and his eyes were full of tears that were taunting him, about to fall. He was extremely thankful that they had kept all of the press outside. Mongrels, they were. He saw Harry Potter sitting on a bench. Harry met his eyes, and shot out of his seat, moving towards him.

"How'd it go? What's happened?" he asked, and Draco could tell that his concern was serious. Draco half smiled, as much as someone so close to breaking could smile. Harry grinned hard, he knew that Draco was free. "Draco, that's great!" Harry had exclaimed. "You're mother as well?" Draco nodded, and if it were possible, Harry grinned harder. "Brilliant!" Draco smiled more, not with his mouth, he just crinkled his eyes a bit. He felt his throat trembling with the words he wanted to say to the man that had just saved the scrap of family he'd been able to retain. He couldn't get any words to come out of his mouth, just kept it tightly wired in that fake grin.

"Yes, brilliant. Thank you, Potter," Draco spat, extending his hand to Harry. Harry shook his hand, and about the time they let go, Narcissa Malfoy burst through the door crying. She lunged towards Harry, hugging him, and loudly thanking him between sobs. She was holding him at arms length when Draco walked away, tears pouring down his pale face.

"You saved my baby! You saved my precious Draco!" she gushed. When she turned to hug Draco, he was already gone. He went into the loo and cleared his throat. He could tell by the echo that he was alone. He hardly got the Imperturbable charm on the door before he collapsed to the ground. He was on his knees sobbing, each outcry wracked his body. He felt as if he was being wrung out, eighteen years of abuse and pain pouring from his eyes. His chest burned, and he felt almost like he was going to be sick, but instead he started screaming.

"You're the reason! You're the only reason, and you always have been!" he screamed, feeling himself get into the fetal position. "You're the only one, Harry. The only fucking one, and I wanted it to be different!" He felt like his throat would start bleeding, he'd gotten so loud. "I wanted it to be so different," he whispered, putting his face on the cool tile floor. "So much different. You're the only one," he mumbled.

~~~

Draco didn't know why he had started himself thinking about it. He looked down into his wine glass. He couldn't remember how long he had laid on that floor, but he knew it was the most desolate he had ever felt. He took a final sip of his drink, leaving just a bit in the bottom of the cup. He laid a little more money than was necessary down on the table, and then he left. He didn't want to be in a stuffy restaurant on a night like this. He hadn't come all the way over here to cower in a place that was familiar to him. It wasn't stuffy out, as one would expect it to be on a night like this. Draco checked his pocket watch as he crossed the threshold of the Three Broomsticks. It's was ornately ticking away the seconds and told him that it was 9:48. He knew the memorial at Hogwarts ended at 9:30, and he didn't expect Harry to be done and out of there so soon. He walked over to the bar.

"You're the sharpest dressed bloke we've had stroll in, in a while, sugar. What can I get you?" a very young blonde witch asked him, the bar man looked back at him, eyeing him to make sure he wouldn't hit on the girl. Draco smiled weakly.

"Do you have any white chocolate liqueur? It's sort of a muggle thing, I'm not certain you'll have it." He didn't mean to sound pretentious, but how else could he defend himself after ordering muggle spirits.

"Boy, ain' no one ordered that 'roun here in some days, mate!" the bar man turned around from putting cups on shelves with his wand. "Bet we 'ave some, you wait. "Ow much you wan'?" The man's accent was enough to turn Draco's stomach. He may not be who he used to, but as far as he was concerned, proper was the only way to be. He made sure to speak extra clear when he responded.

"I want a glass, like that one there. Half ice, if you could." He gestured towards a tall glass, and the man's eyes widened, but he nodded respectfully. He went somewhere behind the bar and came back. Draco stared lazily around the place, it had hardly changed. He felt the glass slide into his hand, and he looked up. "Thank you, sir," he said, then reach into his trouser pocket.

"S'on me. Y'look like y'could use it." Draco still put a few Galleons on the bar and ambled to a seat near the door. He drank his liqueur slow, and despite that effort he was still quite tipsy when Harry Potter came into the pub with a few friends in tow. Draco recognized almost all of them. Hermione, who was a Weasley now, Ron, Neville Longbottom who had married the Weasley girl, Ginerva. Draco stayed seated there, and drank to the bottom of his cup. More people poured in through the doors, the place got busy on this night. It had last year after the memorial as well. Draco was turning twenty within the month, he'd had that mark on his arm for four years now, and now some scars on his skin as well. He was cleaning, last October, when he had got the news his father died. His house elf had died the week before and he had yet to get a replacement for him, he was horribly pent up and thought that hand to hand combat with the mess in his life would help. When he got the letter, he started slamming things, until finally his fury and grief became too much and he slammed a plate on the ground and screamed out. He walked around knocking things over and screaming for a good hour, accidentally knocking over a vase on the table. He picked up one of the shards and drug it hard across his skin above the mark. It tore his flesh almost as hard as a sectumsepra could have, and he watched his blood roll down over the tattoo for a long time, crying. If he had acted immediately, maybe there wouldn't be a scar there, but he didn't want to heal it. He looked at it several times over the weeks it took to heal naturally, using it to remind himself that he was real. At the memorial service for Lucius he had touched his father's cold face with his bruised fingertips, whispering daddy. A few people had to go in and clean Draco's house for him, he had stayed with Andromeda. When he returned to his home, right at the crux of muggle and wizarding London, they'd given him two house elves to tend to him. Draco walked back up to the bar and asked for another glass of liqueur and a shot of fire whiskey. The man gave him both and took his Galleons. Draco was stumbling pretty badly when Harry noticed him.

"Is that..?" Hermione whispered to him, her eyes wide. Harry pursed his lips and looked at the man as he practically fell into his booth. He nodded affirmatively. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, and set it on the table. His face took on a look of determination. "Harry, don't," Hermione tried to warn him.

"It's my only chance, Hermione, I need to see that he's alright," Harry told her, rising from his seat. He had worried tirelessly about Draco Malfoy since the last time he'd seen him.

Harry's flashback.

Harry had gotten sent out of the courtroom almost immediately after he had given his testimony, this case was incredibly private. He sat on the bench outside of the room, wringing his hands and waiting. When Draco emerged from that room and his eyes locked on Harry, it felt like someone had doused him with cold water. Draco looked like he had been through Hell, but he was beautiful. He rushed towards him.

"How'd it go? What's happened?" he asked, and Draco's face had softened. Draco half smiled, and it made Harry feel light. Harry grinned hard, he knew that Draco was free. "Draco, that's great!" he had exclaimed. "You're mother as well?" He was so eager to know if things had turned out well. Draco nodded, and Harry was so happy. His smile was hurting his cheeks. "Brilliant!" Draco smiled more, not with his mouth, he just crinkled his eyes a bit. Harry saw through the ruse. He knew that Draco wasn't okay right now. It hurt him, he wanted to reach out and touch his pale face and tell him that it was okay to let those tears fall.

"Yes, brilliant. Thank you, Potter," Draco was hiding behind that tone again and extending his hand to Harry. Harry shook his hand, he felt a sense of loss when Draco's hand retreated. He was about to speak, say something to him, but the words were forever lost when Narcissa Malfoy almost tackled Harry in a hug.

"You saved my baby! You saved my precious Draco!" she yelled. When they discontinued their embrace, Draco was gone. Her face immediately filled with worry and they started down the hallway to look for him. Harry put his ear to the door of the women's room and heard the lights on the other side, but when he put his ear to the door of the men's room, it was silent. He knew that's where Draco had to be. He was standing dumbly by the door when Narcissa came back up the hall. "Is he in there?" she asked.

"Er, I think so. But there's an Imperturbable on the door. I think he probably wants to be alone," Harry said. "We could go have a cuppa, right down the hall?" he had offered her. She and him had sat together in plush chairs and she kept thanking Harry. He left without checking to see where Draco had gone. He cursed himself the whole way home about it, too.

~~~

Harry and Ron exchanged a serious look as he rose from the table, and he walked over to Draco's table. Draco looked up at him, his eyes were red and he looked terrified to see Harry. Draco couldn't drink him in fast enough. His dark unruly hair was perfectly disheveled and his eyes were sparkling like fresh emeralds behind his stupidly round glasses. His face had a little color, and he looked youthful... More youthful than he had ever looked in his life. Draco couldn't think of what he should say, and every month he had hoped to himself that if this moment ever came he would have something elegant to say, but instead he was sitting there letting these precious seconds fly away. It seemed to be the only thing he was good at.

"Hey, Draco. Long time no see," Harry said, and his voice was just as soft as Draco had hoped it would still be.

"Actually, I'd come here in hopes that I'd see you," Draco admitted, and it was the first of a long stream of truths that lived inside him eating him alive that he was going to pour out tonight.

"Mind if I have a seat?" he asked, raising his brows. Draco emptied his glass.

"I was hoping you'd go on a walk with me?" he said, and Harry made a confused face for a second. It fit him almost as perfectly as the muggle-ish clothes he had worn under his memorial robes. A green v-neck shirt that hugged his muscular torso, and a pair of simple enough jeans that still made him look strong. He nodded as if to say of course, and Draco stood up. He was dressed. Black trousers cascading down his legs to fall just short of brushing a shiny black pair of shoes. He was wearing a maroon dress shirt, tucked in, with a black tie and an open blazer. He looked great, Harry had to admit, but still vulnerable. Harry shot his friends a look, and then the two men walked out into the cloudy night. After they fell in step, Draco looked up from their feet and cleared his throat. "Not a nice night for a walk, I suppose."

"I'm just glad I'm with you, Draco. How have you been?" Harry said, and the way he talked made Draco feel like they'd been together just yesterday.

"My life is a living Hell, Harry. A living, breathing, sodding Hell." Draco's voice sounded so frank. Harry saw a bench coming up.

"Let's have a seat, no one is going to be walking around tonight unless they're a fool," Harry said, and Draco kind of smiled.

"No wonder you're out," he teased, but they sat down. Draco sighed heavily. "I've been okay lately. After the trial, I didn't mean to just disappear like that. There were so many things I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn't get any of it to come out. I've been so stressed out. Work almost consumes my entire life, now, any time off I have... I'm spending it stressed."

"Why, Draco?" Harry asked, confused. As far as he had known, the Hell was over. Draco looked at him deeply, and his expression said heartily: How could you do this to me?

"I just feel like I'm never going to get any better, Harry," Draco said, suddenly sounding vulnerable. He put his face in his hands and started shaking. "Ever since the war, my father and I had been patching things up slowly. I really tried, Harry, but every time he spoke to me I thought about it. He would always crucio me, Harry, all the time. He tortured me so many times and it just hurt. I spent so much of my life feeling so empty, and I wish I had been right from the beginning because maybe I wouldn't feel this way. It seemed like," Draco gulped violently for air, "as soon as we started to really bridge the gap is when I got the news that he passed away. I tore up my whole house over that, just screaming and breaking everything around me. I even cut myself, Harry, and I kept looking at it and watching. It hurt so bad but I felt so far away from it, and it felt good to be outside like that again. I could never get outside when my father was torturing me, but whenever... when Bellatrix would touch me, I could get like that. Just, not in my body, like. My father used to have all the girl death eaters try and suck me off, he thought that it would help me 'stop enjoying men'. It didn't." Draco took a break, and sat there a minute, and then he looked up at Harry. "I just feel so fucking alone, and I remember every word I wanted to say to you that day after court, and I think about it every day. If I had just told you what I wanted to tell you, maybe I wouldn't be so fucking alone." He felt pounds lighter after getting it all off his chest. Harry saw tears falling down Draco's pale skin, and with a rough skinned finger and the gentlest touch, he wiped it away. His hand came to rest on Draco's neck. His skin felt so good that Harry placed his other hand on the other side, almost cupping Draco's face. His silver eyes were wet and sparkling in the dim light from the moon and the lamps. Draco bit his lip softly, and he looked like he was being ripped apart on the inside. He leaned forward and rest his forehead on Harry's.

"You're going to be okay, Draco," Harry whispered, his hot and sweet beer breath felt like glitter on Draco's lips.

"You're the only one, Harry. You've always been the only one," Draco mumbled, his hands wrapping the hem of Harry's shirt around them and falling to rest on his hips.

"Excuse me?" Harry said to him.

"That's what I was going to say to you," Draco whispered, and he laid his lips softly against Harry's, "that day after the trial. I spent so much of school running away, and all I needed to do was run to you." That's when Harry tilted his head and captured Draco in a kiss. It was a slow and warm kiss, lips tangling with lips, Harry's tongue gently lapping at Draco's top lip, tasting the liquer, tasting his salty tears, and when his tongue slipped into Draco's mouth it was like a key going in a lock, erasing twenty years of hate. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, and Harry's hands ran down his chest and then he wrapped them around his ribs and pulled him as close as he could. They kissed long and slow, Harry's hands rubbed Draco's trembling back and Draco had a hand on the back of Harry's neck petting his hair, the other was just inside his shirt firmly clasping his hip bone. When they finally pulled away, both men were dazed. They looked in each other's eyes intently. "I've always wanted to do that."

"I've always regretted not shaking your hand that day," Harry said. It was the only intelligible sentence he could make, and he felt like a child witnessing magic for the first time when Draco's soft kiss-reddened lips spread into a grin. It made Harry's heart flutter, and he couldn't stop himself reaching for him again. This kiss was playful, deeper, with Draco's tongue in his mouth. He mischievously suckled Harry's bottom lip and he gasped. "Dr-Draco," he warned, but Draco giggled and all Harry could think was 'Oh, fuck.' They apparated, leaving the bench empty with a crack.

"I'm so glad I'm here with you and not someone else," Draco murmured, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck. They were sitting on the couch in Draco's flat in the city.

"You can't apparate drunk!" Harry exclaimed, pushing his hair back. "God, Draco, what were you thinking?" he asked, but Draco placed a soft kiss over Harry's quickening pulse and it didn't matter. He crawled onto Harry who was now laying down on the couch. Draco pushed both of their shoes off with his feet while cuddling up to Harry and putting kisses on his neck. Draco started sucking his skin, and it made Harry moan but he pushed him off. "Draco, you're drunk. I can't if you're drunk."

"Always the good guy, Harry," he said, nibbling his ear, "that's what I love about you." Draco winked and stuck out his hand, a vial of sobriety potion flew into his hand. Harry loved how good he was at silent, even wandless, magic. "Will you hold me?" Draco asked, and so Harry snaked his arms around Draco's body. "This is going to be beautiful to sober up to," he said quietly, and Harry's eyes pricked with tears as Draco gulped down the potion. He looked Harry in the eyes, like he was falling into them almost. He felt himself sober up, felt his drunkenness slip away, and then he felt the most astounding thing... a wave of relief fell over his entire being, his eyes filled with tears, and he fell into a passionate kiss with Harry Potter. He pulled off, smiling brightly. "Would you like a cuppa? I'm sure I've been rude since we got here." Harry smiled at him.

"All I want is you. I've been waiting for the chance to drink you in since first year. You're more relaxing than any tea I could ever drink," Harry said softly, fingertips working circles on Draco's back. They got up and walked into Draco's bedroom. There was a big window that tilted towards the sky that quilted a posh and busy street in London. The furniture was sleek and black, and there were green sheets and blankets on the bed. Harry leaned on the foot-board as Draco looked through his chest of drawers. He found what he was looking for, then turned to Harry.

"Do you want something to wear or...?" Draco asked. Harry shrugged.

"I'm fine, I can't just go in my pants, if that's okay with you?" Harry suggested, and Draco nodded. He went to his bathroom to change, and Harry took off his clothes and folded them neatly, laying them on a bench type seat under the window. Draco emerged from his bathroom in silver silk pyjama bottoms, the hem of his boxers peeking over the top. Harry felt self conscious to be in his underwear in front of Draco. They laid down in Draco's bed, the covers draped over their waists, facing each other and propped up on their arms. Harry looked at Draco's chest, there was a faint line from the sectumsempra he'd fired at him. He ran a finger down it. "I'm sorry about this, I had no idea what it did at the time."

"It's okay," Draco told him, pulling Harry's hand to his mouth and kissing his fingertips, one by one. Harry watched him with a smile, and he felt Draco pull him close, flush against his chest. He wrapped Harry up in his arms. 'This is all I want to do, all night, just hold you and stare at you."

"I'm fine with that," Harry told him, and Draco leaned in for a kiss. Slowly, their hands ran across the newly exposed torsos, not daring to go lower. Soon, Draco was laying on top of Harry, their hands laced together on either side of Harry's head. Draco kissed under Harry's chin and he tilted his head back. Their hard cocks pressed against each other as Draco kissed all over his neck. Wet, open mouthed kisses. Harry's arms were tightly wrapped around Draco. "I'm in love with you," he mumbled. Draco licked up Harry's jugular, and met his eyes.

"I'm in love with you, Harry," Draco told him.

That night, their moans made beautiful music as they lay intertwined. They only kissed and touched, nothing below the waist no matter how hard they got, they didn't want to forget how it felt to need one another so much. They fell asleep drenched in sweat and each of their necks covered in love bites, Harry's chest decorated with half-moon bruises from Draco's perfect teeth, and their hearts pounding against one another in perfect tune with the storm outside.