Fade by xerised
He spoke to no one.
He knew he didn't fit in, and everything from his platinum blond hair, the cold, numb how… how could you expect me to be thrilled- gaze he bestowed on the celebrating crowd to the stiff, formal suit that he had draped over his slim, tall frame. He was dressed in black from head to toe; a suffocating woolen turtleneck sweater beneath his tailored, designer jacket, which had shining, tiny buttons tightly clasped onto it. His pure black pants were meticulously ironed, and his clothes glistened and gleamed in the light. The material of his clothes was smooth, gossamer-like, and it felt like silk beneath his fingers. His pointed shoes were polished with love and care. Both sets of his shoelaces were tied neatly, the tails jutting out at perfect angles.
Yes, he didn't fit in with the atmosphere of the wedding party at all. There was raucous shouting, cheering and whooping from all ends of the house, crackers being noisily exploded, the Weasleys and their guests resplendent in colorful, fun and casual clothing. Red and gold streamers festooned the house, shimmering slightly in the breeze. Loud music was reverberating around the house, and Draco looked superciliously at the crowd heaving as one, twitching maniacally to the music.
Right in the middle of the hall, an enormous, three-tiered cake perched in all its glory. It was decorated with creamy squiggles that were composed of every color, but the most outstanding colors were red and gold. In the middle, a pair of sugar figurines dressed in traditional wedding outfits danced, hugged and kissed joyously. The bride had long, shiny red hair, and the groom was wearing a pair of black-rimmed round glasses, his unruly hair messy and wild.
Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth, feeling an urgent need to march over and smash the sickeningly-sweet figures to oblivion.
Silently, he let his gaze sweep imperiously yet again over the dancing crowd, registering the scene before him. Weasley and Granger were grinning from ear to ear, talking happily to Harry and the Weaslette. Ginny had her arm curled proprietarily around Harry's waist, and Harry's glasses kept slipping away from the bridge of his nose. Ron grabbed Harry's hand and shook it jauntily take care of my sister, mate. You know I won't be thrilled if you break her heart- Ginny blushed beetroot and smacked Ron on his head, causing Ron to laugh deeply.
The blond felt his fingers tighten automatically on the wine glass he was gripping.
Draco's sharp grey eyes concentrated on Harry, however. The brunette had an uneasy smile etched across his face, but it was erased almost immediately when Ron laughed. It seemed as if Hermione also had caught that split-second reaction, and she frowned. She shook her head, clearing away her thoughts no, Harry's just nervous. It –is- his wedding after all.
Draco saw Harry scan the room quickly, his eager green eyes finally resting on Draco, who was standing alone at the corner of the room, half-hidden behind a huge plant. Harry blinked a few times, as though waking up he's here. He's… actually here- from a dream. Draco felt the other man's gaze travel from his immaculately-styled hair, down to his long, slender, aristocratic neck, to the strong shoulders hidden underneath the thickly padded jacket, all the way down to the shining belt buckle and his lean, strong legs.
He's mentally undressing me, Draco realized, and he quickly shifted his body to the side, gulping deeply from his cocktail glass. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and repressed a shudder.
When he opened his eyes, he could see Harry fighting through the throng Draco, Draco, Draco… but he was accosted roughly by a beaming Colin Creevey holding a camera half his size.
"Harry! There you are! Come, let's take a group photo! Come along!" Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's sagging shoulders, his emerald, bespectacled eyes brimming with undiluted disappointment.
"Group photo! GROUP PHOTO!" The Weasleys roared loudly, and all the guests clapped thunderously, stamping their feet enthusiastically.
"Finally, Ginny and Harry…"
"Knew they were perfect for each other…"
"Molly and Arthur Weasley must be so proud!"
"How many kids do you think they'll have, eh?!"
"Is that- is that, Malfoy?!"
"Why, yes! What's he doing here?! Doesn't he know that he has no part in this?!"
Draco stiffened, and downed his drink with one turned sharply on his heel from the crowd, and left the house, deciding to sit outside those words saying nothing suffocating you- for fresh air and some peace and quiet.
He blended in perfectly with the night.
Draco sat on the porch, eyes staring unseeingly up into the starry night sky. He sighed deeply, relaxing his arms for the first time for that night, letting them hang loosely on his legs. He could hear the cheering and singing from the house, and he screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise. Hunching forlornly down so that his pointed chin was on his knee, he looked blankly at the grass. Fishing his wand out from his pocket, he aimed it directly on the bright green as beautiful as your eyes grass and moved his wand as if he was writing on a piece of parchment.
Silver powder shot out from the tip of his wand, coating the blades of grass with a fine sheen of silver ink. He tilted his face, and traced the air blankly with his wand. HP is for Harry Potter, a boy who unknowingly stole my heart when I thought I didn't have one, and DM is for Draco Malfoy, whose only wish was to be Draco Potter…
Draco shook his head furiously at himself. He was just about to raise his wand and erase the markings-
Draco jumped and turned his head, seeing Harry stumble forth and land unceremoniously on his butt beside Draco. The blond hurriedly regained his composure and pasted a ready-made smile on his face.
"As gracious as you always are, Potter," Draco smirked but his heart wasn't in it, staring at Harry. The ex-Gryffindor was wearing a casual thin white shirt, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. A red and gold Gryffindor tie was knotted messily around the shirt collar, and it was extremely long, extending down doesn't fit you, Harry, like how Weasley doesn't fit you- to his navel. Harry's jeans hugged his legs tightly, emphasizing his long, muscular legs.
"Pretty casual attire for a wedding party, isn't it, Potter?" Draco drawled carelessly, but he hurriedly averted look at anything, Draco, anything besides his body- his eyes in the opposite direction.
"Well, you know what it's like. It is a party, after all," Harry grinned at Draco, who didn't return the grin. Harry sighed, running a head through his hair. He bit his lip, as though debating on what to say next. A comfortable silence hung in the air, only interrupted by the sound of crickets chirping sharply into the night and the gentle hooting of owls. Both men kept quiet, secretly enjoying each other's company.
Suddenly, as if remember he had a question he forgot to ask, Harry blinked and inadvertently clenched I thought you were going to come today, Draco, I was looking forward- his fists. He pursed his lips together tightly before blustering, "Why didn't I see you at the actual wedding today? I'm sure that I owled you the details of the event weeks before! If you, if you weren't going to be there you could have kindly replied!"
Draco's hand gripped his wand, his nails digging deeply into the flesh of his palm.
Why didn't I go, Harry? Do you want to know why? Well, when you were getting married to that… that Weasley, I was at home in the scruffiest, the most inelegant pyjamas that I had, teeth unbrushed, hair uncombed, face stained with tears, curled up in a pathetic ball in my room! Weasley took my place, she took my place, the place that I should have been, standing beside you when you were reciting your fucking marriage vows! I spent hours like that, thinking of the years when we were in school, regretting things that I shouldn't have done, thinking about things that I should have done to earn your friendship, and ultimately your love. I didn't go, because I knew that if I went, I'll go there acting like some lovelorn, spurned fool!
Does anyone not notice that she is not suited for you?! Hell, she was practically brought up to worship you the minute she saw you at the train on your first year! Is that what you need, Harry? Haven't you lived in the spotlight for long enough? The last thing you need is some starstruck, lovely young thing bumbling after you in your shadow; her sole existence is for you! Can't you see it in her eyes, the way she stares at you like you're some god?!
You need someone who won't come mollycoddling you at every whim and fancy, you need someone that has the guts to tell you that you screw up at times; you need someone to share the limelight with!
Harry, don't you, don't you notice that you need me?
Snapping out of his reverie, Draco scowled curtly and turned to face Harry, looking straight into his eyes.
"I was busy."
He saw Harry's face fall, head hanging dejectedly. Draco lowered his eyes, staring at his shoes. Looking up, he noticed Harry shiver, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. Without missing a beat, Draco began to undo the buttons on his jacket. Slipping his arms out of the silky jacket, he moved closer oh Harry… to the other man and tenderly draped the still-warm jacket on his shoulders.
Harry immediately jerked his head up, his confused gaze melding gently with Draco's cool scrutiny. Smiling shyly to himself, Harry closed his eyes and breathed in the unfamiliar unfamiliar is good, unfamiliar holds surprises- scent of Draco's jacket, his body learning in slightly towards Draco. The blond raised an eyebrow quizzically, sliding his arms around Harry's shoulders, wrapping the jacket tighter around Harry. Harry glanced at Draco's exposed just a bit closer- throat, pale and smooth, and hurriedly looked away, his face burning.
"Harry! HARRY! Where are you?! We're going to cut the cake soon!!!"
Harry jumped at Ginny's shrill voice, heard clearly among the music and chatter. As fast as lightning, both men slid away from each other so that they were on opposite side of the stairs.
"Harry? There you are! Oh! Malfoy…" Ginny stopped shortly, her gaze falling on the both of them. She took in Harry's blushing face, and shivered when Draco stared defiantly back up at her. Narrowing her eyes shrewdly at Draco, she turned to Harry and roughly grabbed his wrist, yanking him back into the warm, comforting house bustling with festivities.
Harry shook his head, turning pleading eyes at Ginny's furious face. He felt a hot spurt of anger rise up in him but she's my wife, I'm not supposed to feel this way- but Ginny turned a blind eye to it and continued to pull him back. Harry threw a last desperate look at the porch, but by then, Draco had already vanished into thin air.
He hadn't really vanished, actually. He just had a penchant for dramatic exits.
Taking the chance when Harry looked at his wife questioningly, he had slinked back into the darkness stealthily, holding his breath until he heard the front door slam, and then lock itself warningly.
Creeping silently across the grass, he positioned himself strategically right outside the windows so that he had a clear view on what was going on in the house. He didn't need to be inside to hear the loud, booming chants of "To the Potters, Ginny and Harry!" Pursing his lips, he continued to spy on the party, making sure that he was well-concealed. Pressing his nose against the glass Mother, I want that piece of candy! Oh, and that too, and give me that too- , Draco surveyed the scene too bad Harry isn't a piece of candy that you can buy from the sweet shop- before him.
"Cut the cake!" Seamus Finnigan yelled delightedly. Ginny held up a knife, looking up in displeasure as Harry failed to take the knife with her. Draco saw her lean over swiftly and hiss something in his ear, her eyes flashing angrily. Harry blinked and hurriedly held her hand over the knife, and together, the couple cut cut it right in her face, the fucking sugar figurine- the cake. The tiny sugar couple on the cake jumped away deftly, falling down to the second tier of the cake and cheered maniacally, a smattering of glitters and sparkles sprinkling magically around them, a rapturous, radiant gold ribbon binding them together.
Ron Weasley conjured up a bottle of Butterbeer, and popped it, letting the cork fly. His face was split into a wide grin, eyes dancing in happiness as he quickly filled up the champagne glasses, making sure every glass was overflowing and bubbling with the frothy liquid.
"Look here, Harry, here, yeah that's it!" Colin shouted, finger mercilessly snapping photos Fool, doesn't he know that Harry hates having his picture taken every sodding minute of the day- of the couple. Ginny was making goofy faces to the camera, resplendent in a soft pink frock. Her arms were still wound hoggishly around her husband, while Harry gave a distracted half-smile at the camera, eyes darting furtively across the room.
Draco couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat.
Harry's shoulders sagged momentarily, but he beckoned Hermione over. Hermione bustled over to Harry, and listened intently as Harry murmured hurriedly in her ear. Draco saw Hermione shake her head severely, her eyes hard with questions. Harry was obviously not happy with her answer, and showed it by grabbing her arm urgently and whispering further. His sad, green eyes were pleading with her brown, harsh ones, and her eyes followed the thrust of Harry's chin – out towards the porch.
Finally, Hermione threw her arms up in surrender and stomped off towards the door, and Draco heard the heavy lock spin and click open. Eyes wide, he swiftly retreated into the hazy shadows, his gaze never faltering from Hermione.
Hermione stormed out to the porch and turned her head from side to side, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Suddenly, she looked down at the silvery marks on the grass.
Shit! I forgot to erase it! Draco recalled with alarm, slinking further back, letting the cool, safe darkness envelope him. He saw Hermione take a step back in shock, eyes staring in astonishment at the glittery words. Sneaking glances around her to make sure no one was watching, she waved her wand, and Draco could see the silvery ink shimmering in the moonlight, the four letters losing their form gradually. The ink slowly rose up into the air, dissolving into a fine, gleaming silver powder, and then blown away by the gentle breeze.
Hermione looked around furtively again. Seeing that nothing was out of the ordinary, she heaved a relieved sigh, turned, and walked back into the house.
Draco knew that he had overstayed his welcome at the Weasley house. Reluctantly tearing his eyes from Harry, he stepped further back into the cold night air, breathing in the tang of the sultry, velvety night and fading into obscurity before finally disappearing with a soft crack.
Keep the jacket, Harry. When your love for Ginny wanes, and when your affection for me grows stronger with each passing day, look at the jacket and remember that dusky, cool evening when you were mine for a few short minutes.
And when you realize that, take the jacket and return to me the two things that rightfully belong to me.
My coat, and yourself.
"I thought you were going to let me take care of the design of the house, Draco!"
"Yes, I'm perfectly aware of that, but is it really that difficult to re-decorate a room in our manor? We've already got so many other rooms which consist of the same shades of color!"
"But you keep insisting that the room has to be decorated in red and gold! And anyone who's got a decent eye for color combinations knows that this will clash horribly with the rest of the décor in the house!"
"Astoria… I have never asked a lot from you. Whatever that you have wished for your heart's desire for the wedding, for the manor, I've let you hold a free rein. This is my only request."
"Oh, since you put it that way… All right, Draco darling…"
I'll wait for you, Harry. It might take months, a year, ten years or even more. But I know one day, you'll stumble back into my arms, where you belong, for the rest of your life.
And when that time comes, I'll fade into the background no longer.
It was a lazy, cool Saturday evening. Draco Malfoy was sitting comfortably on the sofa reading the papers. Pudge the house-elf had cleared the dinner things away and made a hot cup of tea for Draco. The middle-aged man flipped swiftly through the papers, his alert grey eyes quickly scanning each headline.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
Draco didn't move a muscle, nor did he shift his gaze from the black, inky print of the newspapers. It was rather weird though, he thought Pansy or Blaise would have Apparated in or Flooed in… Draco heard Pudge Apparate immediately to the hall and scurry towards the door, her feet making soft swishing noises against the expensive Turkish rug.
"Malfoy! Draco! Are you there?! Draco!"
Draco's whole body froze. His hands trembled could it be… finally… and his knuckles were gripping the newspapers so tightly that cracks and tears were snaking their way across. There was no mistaking that smooth, deep baritone voice that he had dreamed all those curt nods at the Hogwarts Express seeing our sons off, I thought you were blind- about all these years. He let the papers flutter helplessly to the floor, and his legs seemed to have difficulty uncrossing themselves.
He felt the whisper of the lock on the door sliding past, and before he knew what he was doing, he was bellowing to the house elf.
"Stop! I'll… I'll open the door."
Pudge bowed deeply to her master, before clicking her fingers and Disapparating back to the kitchens. Draco suddenly felt his palms turn clammy like on a first date and his throat dry. He smoothed his hair down oh no, do I look a mess- self-consciously and cleared his throat.
He took a deep breath, steadied his hand on the doorknob, and swung the door open.
"Draco, Potter's not going to come back for you… He's still with the Weaslette. Draco, can't you see that-"
"Pansy. I can see for myself, thanks."
"Oh, Draco, you know what I'm talking about. It's been almost twenty years since they've been married… What about poor Scorpius? Without a mother! That business with Astoria was horrible! Absolutely horrible!"
"… Draco, please don't ignore me. All of this waiting and watching, it's extremely unlike you! And that's saying something, since I've known you almost all my life!"
"I'm saving myself for him."
"SAVING YOURSELF?! Who do you think you are, some young, virile little virgin?! You're almost hitting your forties, Draco! Are you sure you want to continue leading such a lonely life? Merlin, think of Scorpius; how he needs a mother, or… or even a- another father!"
"… DRACO! Don't you DARE stick your tongue out at me like some childish little boy!"
"Oh, all right, Pansy dear. By the way, I seem to have told Scorpius about Harry… maybe mentioned a bit about him…"
"He asked me about sex, and I had to lurch into the whole birds and the bees. Then during summer holidays, he came back home and asked me what it meant when Peter Thomas from Ravenclaw said that he wanted to stick his dick up Scorpius's arse and whether a baby would be formed if Peter Thomas really did stick his dick up his arse. Then I couldn't help but mention Harry…"
"… Pansy, you're choking on your bouillabaisse and turning into an extremely unpleasant shade of purple."
"Utterly, utterly incorrigible-"
"I'm sorry, Pansy, did you just mention porridge?"
Harry Potter was standing there right at his doorstep, his hair as messy and unruly as ever, sticking out from all directions. His clear, vivid eyes were staring straight at Draco's, as though drinking the sight of him in, just exactly like what Draco was doing to Harry. Draco could feel the heat from both of their bodies pulsing gently in the air around them, and he audibly gulped.
Draco took a step closer, and he could notice the faint, scarlet hand-mark fucking bitch Weasley- on Harry's right cheek. He slowly, hesitantly, raised his hand, pressing his palm very gently against the mark. Both men moaned at the contact, and Draco could feel his knees wobbling precariously. A sharp intake of breath escaped from Harry's ruby-red lips. He closed his eyes, tilting his face to nuzzle eagerly into Draco's hand.
The blond's eyes slid hungrily down Harry's oh-so-kissable, will you let me kiss it- throat, down to the wrinkled shirt, the scruffy jeans, and the scuffed trainers.
Draco never thought Harry could have looked so beautiful.
As Draco stared at Harry some more, the brunette extended his arm, and hanging from it was Draco's old jacket which he had draped on Harry's shoulders seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, days turned into years, years became decades, but finally, finally you're here- at that fateful night. Harry had kept it in immaculate condition. Not one button was out of place, not one stray strand of material had been snapped. It gleamed and glistened in the light, twinkling up at Harry and Draco.
With shaking hands, Draco took the jacket from Harry. Immediately, Harry moved closer and grabbed his hand tightly, entwining their fingers together in a gentle caress. With a hoarse, emotional voice, Harry whispered those words that Draco had been waiting for twenty years, four months, and seven days to hear from Harry's lips. Draco closed his eyes, feeling Harry's eyelashes brush coquettishly against his pale cheek.
"Will you, will you take me back, Draco?"