Chapter Text
The big mid-winter Ministry gala was tonight. Harry stood in front of the mirror in his room, straightening his tie. He had the newest mix of muggle/wizarding attire on. Hermione had urged him to splurge. ‘Make yourself feel handsome again Harry.’ She put a hand on his cheek and looked at him fondly, maybe a bit sadly as she said it. His robes were charcoal grey, or off-black, as Ron liked to call them. It reminded him of a muggle dress coat with tails, except the tails went to mid-calf and there was no split in them, the material more flowy than the stiff coat tails. He was wearing trousers of the same colour and a dark green dress shirt underneath, it was all very dark he thought, but the tailor said that he looked brooding and that he should wear his hair longer and have a slight stubble beard. So he’d tried it. He felt strange having 2 days growth on his face. His hair was short on the sides and the top was about 5 inches long, the hairdresser had used a hairdryer and a lot of styling potions to make it artfully stand up. Much different than his usual floppy style, but he liked it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, he didn’t want to go to this, but as a public figure, and an Auror, he was nearly forced to. Draco was likely to be there. Their on again off again, secret relationship was currently off again. Draco didn’t want anyone to know that they were… Harry didn’t even know what they were, in a relationship? Fucking? In love? Well Harry was in love. Draco was following his baser emotions, according to the tripe he’d spewed before. But whenever shit hit the fan and Draco needed comfort, he turned to Harry, leaving months later, because ‘it would never work between them’, except it did, they were fantastic together. After 6 years, Harry was pretty sure he couldn’t do it anymore. His heart hurt, constantly, and his capacity to love had just caused him constant heartache.
Draco had left last time, about a month prior and Harry had promised Hermione and Ron that he'd say no next time. This would be the first time he's seen Draco since making that proclamation and he wasn't certain his heart was hardened enough yet.
Before he could change his mind, and retreat to the den with a bottle of fire whiskey like he wanted to, he grabs his invitation and apparates to the Ministry.
Harry lands at the apparition point and takes a few calming breaths. He practices a few smiles, like his therapist suggested, and follows the sound of a crowd of people. He enters the ballroom, his first impression is that it’s bright, as he stares around he notices the gold drapery at the windows, the candelabra’s full of bright candles, gold table cloths and bouquets with gold and black flowers, magic really was a wonderful thing. He makes his way to the bar, smiling at people he knows, nodding to people that recognize him. He sees Ron and Hermione close by, he'll head to them after he grabs a drink,he orders a fire whiskey, with ice, and let's himself relax a fraction. He hadn't seen Draco's distinctive head of light blond hair. He grabs his drink and taking a sip, he turns towards his friends and nearly runs into the man standing behind him. A man, dressed impeccably in robes of black, with a white shirt underneath and a royal blue waistcoat. His grey eyes take Harry in. Harry takes a small step back.
“Sorry.” He breathes out. Taking a long blink to attempt to center himself. Not waiting for a reply Harry moves past his former lover. Under his breath he says “Why do you gotta show up, dressed so good, just to hurt me?” He thinks he hears an intake of breath as he hurries over to his friends.
It feels like his whole damn world will stop turning. Why can’t he just get over the blond bastard. He slips down a hall, on the pretense of going to the bathroom, he’s nearly at the end of the hall where there’s a door to the outside, fresh air would be good, he hears his name and turns to see Draco jogging towards him, Harry turns and heads out the door anyways, as he slips through his arm is grabbed.
“Harry, fuck, just wait okay?” Draco pants out, slightly out of breath from his jog down the long hall.
“No, just, go back to your date okay?” Harry doesn’t meet his eyes, he looks out into the night.
“Oh, well, I’m single, again, as it happens.” Harry imagines the smirk on Draco’s face as he says this.
Harry sighs. “Why…” he pauses and glances over at Draco. “Why are you hanging on so tight if this isn’t working?” He pushes Draco’s hand off his robes.
He looks up at Draco finally, “Why do you want to stop this flame if it’s still burning?” He rubs a hand over his face. “Cause for me, it’s still burning. Just… Have mercy.”
“Harry… what?” Draco’s face is creased in concern.
“If you’re going to break my heart, just break it, if you’re going to take your shot, just take it. I can’t live in this limbo anymore. You know where I stand, but you have to decide where you stand.” Harry turns and returns to the ballroom, letting the door loudly slam behind him.
He finds his friends, Hermione hugs him, Ron drapes an arm around his shoulder and hands him another glass of fire whiskey. He forces a smile on his face and has dinner. He discusses snorkacks with Luna and politics with Percy and resolutely doesn’t search out Draco. He decides as soon as dinner is over and the dancing starts he’ll head home.
He slowly walks to the apparition point, heartsore and exhausted. He doesn’t notice at first, but as he gets closer to the spot, someone is leaning against a pillar beside it.
“Draco… I suppose you’re all drunk and lonely. Don’t bother sending me an owl or showing up at mine.”
He takes a step closer to Harry, he looks all rumpled now, his precise hair looks as if he’s run his hands through it numerous times. His eyes are red rimmed, his shirt loosened.
It takes all Harry’s willpower to not ask, not care.
Harry points to the spot, surrounded by a rope barrier, that he will apparate from. “I’d better get going.”
“Harry. Wait.”
Harry doesn’t turn around.
“I just. I need.” Draco whispers. His hand comes up, reaching out to Harry.
“Draco. If you’ve made up your mind, then make it. Make it fast, if you’ve ever loved me. Please. Have Mercy.”