#drarrysummerbingo

WHAT ABSENCE MAKES

Harry stared through the snow-framed window of his cold, sterile professor’s flat at Durmstrang, paralysed with indecision. As a half-finished, thoroughly scratched-out letter lay on his desk, he struggled with finding the right words and deciding whether or not he should write in the first place. It had been two difficult years since their arranged marriage had ended in amicable divorce.

Draco had wanted to see the world. Harry had wanted to settle down. With an ache in his chest, he made his way to his desk and sat down to write.

Dear Draco,

I hope this letter finds you in a happy place. I know we’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to be a bother, but it's been lonely lately, and I just need a friend. Perhaps, we could write letters to each other like we did as students, when you were at Beauxbatons and I was at Durmstrang.

Yours,

Harry

Harry wiped away an escaped tear, then carefully folded the letter into an envelope, fastened it to his snowy owl, Hedwig, a wedding present from Draco, then threw open the window. A chilling breeze drifted in, sending Harry into a shivering fit. Tightening his soft, blue scarf—Draco's old Beauxbatons scarf—he quickly closed the window.

***

The next morning, a letter lay on his small kitchen table with a patient Hedwig perched on the back of the wooden chair. Harry stumbled out of bed across the room, gave Hedwig a biscuit, then impatiently ripped open the letter, smiling and heart racing.

Dearest Harry,

Life has been spectacular! I've been abroad in Cairo, studying magnificent ancient magical artifacts. Beauxbatons finally accepted my grant request and sent me with my own team, and we’re making productive work of it.

Sorry about the loneliness. I'm sure that will get better with more time. Of course, you can write to me any time. Regardless of what happened with us, I will always be a friend to you, Harry.

Yours sincerely,

Draco

Harry turned the letter over, desperately hoping to find more. When he didn’t, he slumped in the kitchen chair and read the letter three more times. Unbidden, images of Draco covered in dirt invaded his mind, and he couldn’t help but smile at such an unlikely sight. Sighing, he levered himself from his chair and plodded over to the desk to write back:

Dear Draco,

I'm glad you're having a spectacular time. Sounds like a lot of fun, actually. I've been trying and failing to keep busy during Durmstrang’s winter break. I might take some time off from teaching and figure some stuff out. I love teaching, but I feel I've lost my spark along the way. Maybe I'm due for some travel, too.

Our parents are trying to organise a holiday get-together, and I don't know if I can face them all. Not without you. Don't worry, I'll think of something. I'll fall ill or just transfigure myself into a lamp. That should do the trick, right?

Anyway, please stay safe out there, love.

Yours,

Harry

He probably shouldn’t have written love, but…who was he kidding? He loved Draco. He'd never stopped loving him, and he never would. With a heavy pit in his stomach, he rose from his chair, enclosed his letter in an envelope, and signalled Hedwig.

***

Three days later, he woke to a sharp rapping at his window. Once his brain caught up, he leapt out of bed and fumbled the window open. Hedwig darted in, hissing and shaking icy, wet snow in his face.

“Sorry, Hedwig.”

He gently pulled the letter from her talons and stared at the envelope for a while before absently sliding his thumbs along it, noticing small patches of dirt etched into the parchment. He took a deep breath, and slowly tore the envelope. Heartbeat quickening and mouth growing dry, he began reading the neat scroll.

Dearest Harry,

You needn’t worry about me. I'm always looking out for myself.

Teaching can be such a bore after you've been at it as long as we have. Regarding your spark, have you tried a good Incendio?

And travel would do you good! In fact, you are more than welcome to come visit me here. I’d love to show you the site and you can watch me boss around my team (one of my favourite past times).

Gods! I'm so sorry I've left you to deal with our parents. They’re not being very subtle, are they? They’re horribly old-fashioned. Don’t let them get you down, Harry. You’re stronger than you think. I saw what the mark cost you. Just look at that hideous tattoo as a reminder.

Come visit me for Christmas. That will stop their meddling.

Yours sincerely,

Draco

Harry looked down and pulled back his sleeve to reveal a dark-inked forearm. He could barely make out the shape any longer, but he would never forget the skull and snake image of the Dark Mark. Harry had been a Death Eater for all of five days until Voldemort had asked him to kill Draco. That had been the push Harry had needed to turn and kill the Dark Lord instead. Shaking the memory from his mind, he turned his attention back to the letter and read it over and over until his eyes grew tired and his stomach grumbled.

As he buttered some toast, he thought about the prospect of visiting Draco. It would feel good to get their nosy parents off his back, but what would it mean for him? What would it mean for Draco? Just two mates shooting the shit, sharing drinks at a nearby pub, then opening presents, platonically, side-by-side?

Harry could do that. As long as it meant seeing Draco again.

***

It was three days before Christmas.

Harry had owled Draco’s parents and his own, letting them know of his plans to visit Draco. He had received positive replies from all of them, not surprising since they're the ones who’d arranged his and Draco’s marriage in the first place. Had it planned for their whole lives.

What a disaster.

Shifting his light luggage bag on his shoulder, courtesy of a quick expansion charm, he headed for his door. Taking a deep breath so as to not lose his nerve and change his mind about the whole thing, he opened the door, then froze.

It was Draco. Tall, lean, well-dressed, smirking, beautifully blond, pale-skinned, slightly sun-kissed Draco, standing just outside his door.

“Potter?”

“Wh—what are you…I was coming to see you.” Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest and the stinging threat of tears in his eyes.

“I know, love...” Draco’s eyes drew down, then back up to lock, stone-grey, onto Harry's. “…But I couldn’t wait.”

Harry let go of any restraint he promised himself he'd have around Draco. He reached for him, desperate hands on Draco’s hips, pulling him tight against him, hungry lips finding Draco’s and Draco meeting him with matched heat, hands pressed into the small of Harry’s back, as the two stumbled in a messy heap of tangled limbs and gasping breath, back inside.

***

Dear Mum and Dad,

Draco and I are in Santorini and have really taken to sailing. Draco doesn't even mind getting wet like he used to. Tomorrow, we’ll be in Venice, then back home to Paris.

Hope you both have been well.

Love,