Stay With Me

Chapter 4

Just like that, Draco found himself going into his third month at Harry's house. The gloomy showers of April had melted into the gentle warmth of June and life had settled into a bleak and predictable routine.

Draco saw seven clients every week, meeting in seedy hotels, cars, nightclub restrooms and occasionally, dark alleyways.

The continuous use of his body was draining him and with every single session, his mind shut off a little more, leaving only the broken shell of a boy simply trying to get by.

When he wasn't being paid for sex, he stayed at the house, often in his room reading novels or writing in his journal. The entries had gone from daily to weekly, once filling the page to now single lines. There wasn't much to say when nothing ever changed, when all he felt was empty.

On the better days, he would venture out into the wild garden at the back of the house. It was enchanted and was only visible to those who protected the magic within the walls. To others, the back of the house was train tracks that lead into London, nothing but brickwork and metal with run-down fencing and dying shrubbery.

For Harry and Draco, it was a secret garden, filled with bushy trees and blooming shrubbery, a small water feature poked out amongst the tall grasses where birds would perch for a drink and a wooden bench just beside it. Wildflowers of all sorts grew and drifted lazily in the summer breeze, it was a sanctuary for Draco, a place where, for a short time, he felt a little more at ease with the world.

Harry carried on as usual. Working most days at the Ministry, and his time off was spent at the pub with friends, playing pool or drinking himself silly, meeting strangers in bars and getting his dirty kicks.

He still brought people back to the house, the power of magic meant his bedroom could provide whatever he needed to please someone at the flick of his wand. Draco had grown used to Harry's hungry sex drive, frequently ignoring the poor one-night stands that wandered into the kitchen the mornings afterwards, pining for a simple cup of coffee. He said nothing and pointed them towards the door each time.

With every person that Harry brought home, Draco grew more and more irritable. Jealousy fuelled him and Harry's smug, blissed-out expression after each conquest was worthy of a punch or two.

He told himself he didn't care but secretly he did, he really did. It felt as though Harry was always handed everything on a silver platter, at school he was idolised by students and staff, viewed as The Chosen One as everyone gushed over him. Even after the war, he was deemed a hero and everything fell into his hands, a sturdy job, strong friendships, money, a decent house and annoyingly rugged sex appeal.

It was infuriating how their lives had taken such different paths.

Their relationship had reached a point of limbo, where they weren't spiteful anymore, but they weren't friends either.

Most days were still filled with small talk and awkward silences, Harry would read the Prophet aloud some mornings and remark on the news of the world whilst Draco poked at his cereal, only half eating.

Harry would speak more enthusiastically about the sports section or try to discuss quidditch matches that were going on and though Draco didn't care much for sport, he would listen politely, it was easier than silence.

Another evening alone, Draco was curled up on the sofa under the blanket, reading his book, but his eyes kept flicking to the clock on the mantelpiece, Harry said he'd be home around eleven.

That's when the slither of realisation occurred to Draco, that being present in Harry's company was more enjoyable than being by himself. They seemed to have reached the point of civility, perhaps the remaining few months were not going to be as unbearable as Draco had first imagined.