“Sorry for showing up like…this,” I say, running a hand over my bruised and bloodied face. “Can I come in?” I’m ashamed to be here, but I’ve got nowhere else to go.
Draco doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
We end up in the bright kitchen, still painted the same sunshine yellow we chose when we first bought the flat, when we were happy. Before…
Draco hands me a steaming cup of tea and it’s perfect. Milky and cloyingly sweet—two years and he hasn’t forgotten.
“Why are you here?” That’s my Draco, right to the point.
“I can’t say—”
“Don’t,” he growls, hand clenched into a fist on the table. “You don’t—not after everything. Not anymore. The truth, Harry. You owe me that much.”
I meet his gaze. He’s burning, and I’ve got to turn away because I can’t bear the pain etched into every line of his face. It’s all my fault.
I’m a monster.
And I owe him so much more than the truth.
“It’s bad—really bad. Worse than Malta,” I say, glancing up at him.
The blood drains from his face, and he whispers, “Worse than Malta?”
It took him months to nurse me back to health, and it’s clear he remembers it as well as I do.
I nod. “I’ve got to leave. I swiped an unregistered Portkey to Brussels, and from there…well, I’ll figure something out. I want—but it’s too dangerous.”
“Harry,” Draco says softly, reaching for my hand. “Why are you here?”
Because I’ve never been able to stay away from you. Because I want to beg you to come with me. Because if the Ministry’s going to have me killed, then I want the memory of you on my skin.
Because I love you.
“I wanted to say goodbye.” His beautiful face blurs as the tears fall thick and fast down my cheeks, but I can’t look away. There’s only a few minutes left. Not nearly enough time to memorise every shade of grey in his eyes. To decipher the elegant slant of his mouth. To count the freckles on his cheeks.
I need time—hours, months, decades. But even if we had lifetimes and lifetimes together, it still wouldn’t be enough.
His gaze turns pleading. “That’s not all.”
“Draco, I can’t…I can’t lose you. Don’t ask me—”
“There hasn’t been one moment in the past two years that I haven’t been waiting for you,” Draco says, kneeling on the floor at my feet, holding our intertwined hands tight against his chest. “I meant what I said when you left, I knew that being with you came with risks, and I don’t care. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I will do anything you ask of me, except live without you. Please don’t ask me to—not again. You are my life.”
The chair scrapes across the floor as I fall into his arms, and kiss him. I remember why I left, why this is a horrible idea, why I would never ask him to stay. But with his arms wrapped around me, lips warm against mine, I don’t care. I can’t get the words out, can’t ask him to walk hand in hand with me to his own death. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love him, and I won’t live in a world without him. He must understand my desperation as I kiss him again and again because I feel his fingers reach into my pocket.
He presses one last kiss to my lips before his eyes meet mine. The rusted key sits in the palm of his hand, and he says, “I love you.”
I know what he’s asking.
Don’t leave me behind. Beg me to come with you. If the Ministry’s going to have you killed, then I want to follow you through the Veil.
A faint blue glow lights up his face, and I lace our fingers together, kissing his knuckles. “I love you too.”
