More Than a Memory

21

"Hey, you said you'd be here over an hour ago. Is everything—?"

Harry's mouth drops open in shock, and he wonders if he's hallucinating, because the blond on his doorstep isn't Aiden.

It's Draco.

Standing in the pouring rain, blond hair hidden beneath the hood of a forest-green cloak, eyes narrowed as he examines Harry.

He wonders if it's a hallucination, that is, until he speaks.

"Who were you expecting so late, Potter? Clearly not me."

Harry's heart hammers in his chest. "No one."

Draco raises an eyebrow. "You never were a very good liar."

"Fine. Not you," Harry spits, getting defensive.

Draco stares at him impassively. "May I come in?"

"Why?"

"To talk, Harry."

"I'm not sure what we could possibly have to say to each other."

There's a flicker of something in Draco's eyes. "I have quite a lot to say, Harry. If you would—" he hesitates, looking uneasy for the first time, his voice going quiet, almost pleading, "—if you would be willing to hear me out."

Harry sighs and moves aside, letting Draco slip past him.

"Thank you."

He takes off the cloak and removes his black gloves, one finger at a time. His hair is longer than it was when he left. He leaves them on the bench beside the door that he picked out.

"D'you...would you like some tea? Or hot cocoa? You look..." Harry feels a crimson flush climb the back of his neck as Draco turns to look at him. "Cold."

He smiles. "Tea, please. Milk, one—"

"I know how you take your tea, Draco," Harry says flatly, turning to go into the kitchen.

"I know you do," Draco whispers, barely audible, following.

Harry turns at the noise of surprise he makes when he sees the shiny Muggle appliances. His shock-widened eyes quickly narrow as Harry watches him, and his lip curls. "Merlin, you've really...Muggled up the place."

Harry shrugs. "So?"

Draco licks his lower lip. He closes his eyes for a moment, sucks in a breath. "Is it serious?"

"What?"

"You and the Muggle. Is it serious?"

Harry's stomach churns. He wants to say yes, just to spite him, but—

"No."

Draco runs his finger down the shiny handle of the stainless steel refrigerator and says nothing.

"Why would you care?" The words come out almost strangled, forced, as part of Harry tries to keep himself from asking.

"Why would I—?" Draco turns an incredulous gaze on him. "Harry, I care because...because I'm here to beg for your forgiveness. Because I'm still madly in love with you. Because I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving, and I..." his eyes fill with tears, and Harry is frozen, unable to wrench his eyes away. He watches as they spill over and pour down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry."

Harry stumbles backward a step, catching himself with a hand on the stone countertop. "What? No, you're not—"

Draco huffs, the corners of his mouth twitching up. "Not what? Here to beg forgiveness? Still madly in love with you? Sorry? I can assure you, I am."