𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?

Part VIII

Part 8: Heaven & Hell

are you locked up in you counting the days
oh how long until you have your freedom
your freedom

"Heaven Out Of Hell", Elisa.

"Draco, are you ready?" Harry called, quite nervously.

When the Slytherin didn't answer, the now-famous writer pondered the idea of breaking down the door. Fortunately it wasn't necessary, because, after a few instants, it swung open.

Harry forgot to breathe, his attention completely caught by the vision in front of him.

Draco Malfoy was simply amazing, and Harry doubted it was only merit of Claude's work. Needless to say, the suit was perfect, following graciously the perfect built of Draco’s body. But there was something else. It was the way Draco wore the suit. He seemed born to be dressed elegantly. He had a natural aura that said ‘I-am-as-close-to-God-as-any-man-will-ever-be-so-don’t-bother-trying-to-reach-my-level’.

Harry wondered if this was due to being a Malfoy or to endless childhood lessons on proper conduct for a pureblood. He knew, however, that he would never have that preternatural appearance, because no suit that could give him that powerful presence. The proof was the fact that Draco radiated the same intensity even when he wore his worn faded jeans.

The Gryffindor was still lost in his thoughts, his gaze unconsciously fixed on Draco, when his lover passed a hand through his hair nervously. Harry, instinctively, noted that the other wizard wasn’t using as much gel as he used to in school.  In fact, the platinum locks fell gently on his flawless cheeks.

"So?" Draco asked after a while, shifting his weight between his feet, uncomfortably. "Is there anything wrong?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Actually, there is something missing," he said, carefully pulling out something from a pocket of his jacket.

Draco looked curiously at two little white rosebuds resting on the dark-haired wizard's hand.  Cautiously, Harry parted them and placed one into Draco's breast pocket. Then, he did the same with the other blossom. Draco moved closer, their bodies almost touching, and he straightened the rose and then smoothed the jacket with an elegant movement of his hand.

"All right?" The Gryffindor asked, finally, smiling and looking straight into Draco's eyes.

The Slytherin nodded and smiled back.

"Then, it's time to go." Harry stated. With that, they were off.

Harry was nervous. Draco could sense that the tension was getting worse with every passing minute. Finally, he broke the silence that filled the BMW and said softly, "You don't like this stuff very much, do you?"

Harry flinched, but kept looking at the road, while he answered.

"Yeah, you can say that. I've never got used to the fame. I doubt I ever will."

Draco pondered the answer for a while. Then, he ventured a question he had wanted to ask since he had met Harry in that club.

"Why do you live in the muggle world, Harry?"

"Why?"