Vagary

{Nine}

Draco Potter had come by his husband's office in the DMLE for no other reason than it was what was normal. He had craved such a thing these past few days, what with the practical memory loss they were dealing with... and because of the tension it had wrought. It was like someone was wearing his husband's skin.

Sleeping alone wasn't exactly easy either. If Draco focused on that instead of the bigger things, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so badly seeing his own husband look at him with resentment.

He felt no less than miserable, to say the least. They'd tried so many times over the weekend to get along, to move Harry just a smidge past the sour in his heart, but with no luck. It seemed every criticism was taken as a personal attack, and Draco just couldn't get a grasp on what it was the man wanted from him. He thought he'd be enough like his own Harry to figure it out. The sad truth was that this man was nothing like his own.

Draco couldn't blame him either, which he supposed is why it meant so much to him to find out what happened. He would want to do the same thing too.

So he stood in front of Harry's office, poised to knock, looking like an idiot to the rest of the aurors most likely. It was just... hard to break out of a routine, and he wanted so badly for his version of him back. He had always known exactly what went on in Harry's life for... years, every minute detail and every other person he dated or was friends with, and suddenly knowing... nothing startled him.

Regardless, Draco was resolved to at least keep trying. He meant it when he said he wouldn't give up and that he would love him forever, even this version, no matter how stubborn. So he stuck his resolve and knocked on the bloody door.

"Come in," Harry called from inside, voice muffled, and while everything sounded normal and looked the same, he had to remind himself that he couldn't just walk up and snog his husband like he used to.

"Hey," he muttered, coming around the door quickly so Harry could see him.

He looked up from a pile of work, much less organized than usual. Harry slowed, putting everything he had down, including his wand clamped between his teeth.

"Hey."

Draco slunk into the room and shut the door so nobody outside would hear their inevitable awkwardness.

"How was your morning with Dumbledore? Did you get any answers?"

If his voice might cooperate their situation would be far less painful.

"A few... I also got this back when I was told to see Professor McGonagall." Harry held up a decent sized book, untitled and bound by an antique hardcover.

Draco tentatively reached for the book, his husband putting it on his desk instead of just handing it to him, and all he could do was ground his teeth together to keep from saying something unkind. It was quite a hefty text, akin to something he and Hermione would compete to finish reading first in school. Looking expectantly back up at Harry, he was biting his lip, something that definitely would have made him snog the man if this were only a few days ago.

"Do you want me to read it?" He asked pathetically. "It won't change that I love you, if that's what you want."

It had been said before his mind argued against it, and with the damage done, he let it float in the air.

"I do want you to read it," Harry said plainly, his face still and calculating. "And I'm not trying to stop you from loving me, I'm trying to rationalize this whole thing. You can't just expect me to love you back."

"How many times are we going to have this exact same argument before you get it through that thick skull of yours that I don't expect you to love me at all. I do, however, want a pigmy-puff's worth of respect for the fact that despite everything, we're bonded here. Magically. I at least deserve that much while I'm mourning a marriage that is still very real."