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“That was fantastic, Draco,” Ernest said, rolling to the side and running his fingers through his sweaty hair.
“Thank you,” Draco replied, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes to the light-flooded bedroom.
“Still thinking of Potter?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t mind,” Ernest confessed. “I often don’t think of you while we’re doing it.”
Draco opened his eyes. “Who, may I ask, do you picture while we make love, McMillan?”
Ernest snorted. “Please, Draco. Make love… Really? We fuck, that’s what we do. Save your corny words for Potter.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Draco insisted. “Who?”
“Why do you even care? You want Potter. You imagine Potter while I’m going down on you. Admit it, Draco. You want Potter. So why does it matter if I’m picturing that Lee Jordan is riding me instead of you?”
Draco grumbled, looking away. “So that’s the kind of guy you like, eh? Black… strong…”
“Don’t forget the big dick.”
“Git.”
“Don’t pretend to care, Draco. You jump from bed to bed, and now you want to demand exclusivity? Grow up, dude.”
“How do you expect me to react? You just said you picture another guy while we’re making love and–”
“FUCKING!” Ernest yelled, annoyed. “We fuck, okay? We do not make love! Do you even hear yourself? You shamelessly admit you picture Potter while fucking me and then throw a tantrum at me for doing the same! We fuck, Draco! You make love to people you love, and clearly your feelings for Potter didn’t go away since he left you for being a cheating bastard, did they? Now you pretend to be an irredeemable bachelor who cares about nothing and no one while fucking anyone you please. Grow a pair, Draco. Just grow. A. Fucking. Pair!”
Ernest dressed faster than a bullet and stormed out of Draco’s bedroom, leaving his scent all over the blonde’s sheets along with a piercing pain that brought tears to his greyish eyes. He didn’t like to cry and, even less, to admit that someone else was right. However, Ernest was one hundred percent right. He still loved Harry – perhaps more than anything – and not all the sex in the world, not all the sweaty delicious bodies rolling over his bed, would make him forget that he irrevocably screwed up. He’d had Harry wrapped around his finger and he took him for granted.
Draco didn’t sleep that night.
He thought of Harry and his habit of licking the yogurt lid before eating it. He remembered how he smelled after a shower. Harry used to drink a cup of tea every morning, because he despised the taste of coffee. He liked to read the Witch Weekly Magazine before bedtime and he’d swear he only read it for the magical creatures articles, but Draco knew he liked the cooking column. Harry used to bake delightful biscuits. Used to, as in they were not for Draco anymore, but for someone else now.
He went to work feeling like shit. Ernest pretended not to see him, and it made him feel even worse. He headed to his desk, walking while staring at his feet, and didn’t acknowledge anything else until he bumped against someone.
“Forgive me, I–”
“It’s okay,” Harry said, looking at Draco with judgmental emeralds.
“Harry,” Draco said.
“Draco,” Harry said simply, and walked away.
Draco went to his desk, stared at the piles of unorganized files, and felt it coming.
The tears.
He ignored the work he had to do and rushed to the Department of Mysteries. He handed several galleons to the tall guy who was guarding door number three and the guy flashed him a pitiful stare.
“I need to use the mirror, Justin,” Draco said. “Don’t ask.”
“Wasn’t going to,” Justin said, opening the door for Draco.
One inside, the door was closed behind him. The room where he was standing was circular and gloomy, lit only by a torch in the wall next to the door. Draco’s eyes scanned the room, looking for the object he wanted, until he spotted it – lonely in the middle of the dark room.
The Mirror of Erised.
It wasn’t the first time that he had experienced the wonders that came with that reflection. Many times before, he had seen himself standing there, with the man he loved standing beside him. Ever since Harry had ended things between them, he had felt the need to visit this room, if only to see that false reality where Harry and he were still happy.
The reflection hadn’t changed. There was Harry, looking dashing as always, with his arm wrapped around Draco’s neck. There was adoration in his green eyes and the love between them was almost palpable. It brought tears to Draco’s eyes and he allowed them to shed, falling like rain droplets to the stone floor.
“WHY?” he shouted, grabbing at his hair in distress. “WHY DID I HAVE TO DO THAT TO HIM? WHY AM I SUCH AN JERK?!”
He looked at himself in the mirror – at his glowing and cheerful self – and seethed with anger.
“LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM! DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU. DON’T. DESERVE. HIM!”
In an impulse of rage, remorse, and regret, he punched the mirror, watching the image shatter. As he watched the pieces of glass fall, the mirror frame began to glow and, just as Draco squinted his eyes, he felt the whole room turning, his surroundings blurring and the ground disappearing. He yelled, but he didn’t hear himself. He closed his eyes, wondering what the hell was happening, when suddenly everything stopped.
He opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see the same stony room he had been standing in and the shattered mirror before him. Instead, he found himself standing in a dressing room, a closet with a tuxedo hanging in it in one corner, and several bouquets of flowers lying haphazardly around the room. Resting on a coffee table was a white and gold invitation.
Longing to understand what was happening, Draco grabbed the envelope and read the words that stole his breath away:
Draco Lucius Malfoy and Harry James Potter request your presence at their joyful wedding…
Draco blinked desperately, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on, when a flawlessly dressed Harry stormed into the dressing room.
“What the hell, Dray?” he said, distressed. “If you weren’t ready to get married, you should have told me! Sooner! You didn’t have to leave me at the altar in front of all our friends!”
Draco gaped. Harry looked divine in his gorgeous white tuxedo, but it was the look in his eyes that made Draco’s mouth drop open. Harry wasn’t angry or resentful. If anything, he looked concerned.
“Harry…”
“I’m not mad, okay? I know I was the one who wanted this humongous ceremony, and I’m aware that the swans were a little too much, but I just wanted to show the world how much I love you.”
Draco blinked, taking a step forward and reaching out to touch Harry’s cheek.
It felt real.
It was real.
“What do you want to do, Dray? Do you wanna call it off? Want to elope? Because we can do it right — why are you taking your clothes off?”
“Fuck me.”
“Come again?”
“You heard me. Show me this is real. Fuck me, right here, right now.”
Harry frowned. “What about the wedding?”
“Fuck me first and then I’ll go out there and profess my love for you to the world.”
“You’re insane.”
“Insanely hot for you.”
Harry shrugged. “Okay… If that’s what you want… But I’ll be on top this time.”
“Just shut up and ride me, will you? Dear lord, I fucking love you!”