𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?

Part XXIII

Epilogue: [-Let Me Love You-]

Let me love you true, let me rescue you
Let me bring you to where two roads meet
Oh come back above
Where there is only love, only love

"The Ground Beneath Her Feet", U2

The last note dimmed in the air and applauses began. He got up slowly from the piano and bowed slightly to the people in the jazz club before leaving the stage. Outside, the night was waiting for him. A cold night, as all the nights spent alone.

He put on his coat and left. Walking down the dark icy streets, he blew on his fingers before pushing his hands deep into his pockets. And then, as soon as his skin regained its sensibility, he felt it. Soft, silky. His right hand closed cautiously around the unknown object and when he opened it again under the dim light of the streetlamps, Draco Malfoy froze. A tiny white rose blossom lay in his palm.

It took a while before he could react.

"Potter."

Draco's voice resounded cold and firm into the emptiness of the street. "Come out. I know you are there," he said as he turned. And Harry was there, an older version of that boy who had hid behind an invisibility cloak and roamed the halls of Hogwarts at improbable hours.

Draco stared at him without moving. Harry stared back. They didn't know what to say. What to think. Finally, Harry took a step toward him.

"Don't," Draco said softly. Harry stopped and looked at him interrogatively.

Draco took a deep breath, trying to control his heartbeat. His brain. "Will you ever stop hiding under that damn cloak?" he asked tiredly.

"Draco..."

Draco closed his eyes. He had forgotten how Harry said his name: calm and sure.

"Draco, I've looked everywhere for you," Harry said.

"Always the good seeker, then. You've found me. Now, what do you want, Potter? What else can I do for you?" he asked, opening his arms in sarcastic defeat.

"Talk. Just talk, Draco," Harry answered softly.

"But we are talking, aren't we?" he objected, faking innocence. "Or were you being metaphorical? In that case, I hope you brought cash. I'm not giving myself away for free," Draco pointed out, intimately enjoying Harry's suddenly shocked expression. "Not this time, at least," he added darkly.

"You're wrong, I..." Harry insisted, coming closer.

"Don't move," Draco ordered, drawing out his wand and pointing it at Harry. The wand that meant so many things to him. So many painful, sad, lost things.

"I've said no this time, Potter," he explained calmly, his voice barely a whisper. "No more stupidity. No more fair play. No more forgiveness. If you come any closer, the world will lose a good writer."

Harry seemed to ponder Draco's threat. And finally, he resumed his walking.

"Potter, I warn you..."

"Draco, please. Listen at me. A few minutes. I'm asking only for a few minutes. Then, if you'll ask me to leave, I'll do it, and I won't come back again," he said, nearing calmly.