Empty Spaces

Chapter 64

Somewhere inside his own head, Harry knew he was dreaming. He didn't play anymore, which was probably the first thing that gave it away, but it went so much deeper than that. His heart felt free and his mind was clear, focused on the game and nothing more. A perfect dive into a perfect save, followed by the familiar roar of the crowd rising above the Quidditch Pitch, but it wasn't the applause he was interested in. He was Harry Potter again.

And then it was over.

While he was in them, Harry preferred these dreams to the nightmares, but now that he was awake, he would rather have it the other way around. The nightmares were terrifying. Horrible. But they made sense. Scary things make you feel scared. But this... this mostly just made him feel sad. And then guilty.

"Nightmare?" Draco mumbled sleepily, rolling over and laying a protective arm across his boyfriend.

"Not really," Harry murmured back. You don't get very far when you're spending all your time and effort chasing the past– Harry knew this. But his subconscious didn't always get the message.

"You okay?" Draco asked, sounding slightly more awake.

"Yeah," Harry replied. It was the truth. As quickly as it had come on, the clenching guilt was starting to melt away along with the remnants of his dream. That wasn't him anymore, and now that he was back in the present, Harry was glad of it. True, he'd lost a lot. But he'd gained even more. It wasn't just about the man next to him, either, although it might look like that from the outside. For the first time in his life, Harry was at peace, able to love another because he was finally able to love himself.

"You sure?"

"Weird dream," Harry admitted, "But it's nothing. Sorry for waking you–"

"Don't be sorry," Draco leaned down, changing his tone, "I'm awake now, and so are you..."

No Quidditch game could ever be better than this. Past Harry was an idiot. Somewhere in the deep vestiges of his brain, Harry knew that things weren't that simple, that Draco wasn't here to save him from himself, but holy shit did it feel like that right now. He supposed that was the whole point of love. It's not supposed to make sense. You're just supposed to experience it in all its inexplicable glory.

"I love you," he said, lost in the gray eyes he once would have given anything to see looking at him like this.

"I know," Draco smirked, teasing, "You just told me. Repeatedly. But more importantly..." he leaned down and brushed Harry's ear with his lips, "I love you too."

Draco rolled over, letting his fingers brush across Harry's chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His gray eyes found the ceiling as he lay for a moment, lost in thoughts known only to himself, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and hesitant.

"Harry?"

"Yeah? Everything okay?"

"I need your help with something."

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, fully awake. Draco hardly ever asked for help outright, even with mundane things like washing dishes or putting groceries away.

"Sure, anything."

Draco frowned at the ceiling, choosing his words before speaking.

"I want to see my father before we go."

"What?" Harry stared in disbelief.

"We don't leave until late afternoon. Our appointment at the immigration office isn't until four. I want to see my father before we go. I need to tell him something– it won't take long– but I'll probably need your help to bypass the Ministry to gain access to his cell in Azkaban."