Verus Amor

New found Joy??

"After enduring the tempest of sorrow, the return of happiness becomes a radiant beacon, illuminating the shadows of past misery with the brilliance of newfound joy."

---

Paris. The city of love. Yet here was Draco Malfoy, alone, single, and... happy? Maybe.

It had been four years since he'd last seen those brilliant green eyes—four years of living with the memory of soft lips pressing against his own, of calloused hands holding him like he was something precious. Four years, and not a day had passed when he hadn't thought about Harry. Those damned emerald eyes haunted his days and his nights. What if? What if he'd stayed in England? What if he hadn't run away like a coward? What if he'd had the guts to say one last goodbye?

But he hadn't. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys were survivors, not heroes. So he did what Malfoys did best—he self-preserved. He fled the country after his trial, leaving behind the only person who ever made him feel like he was more than just a name. Now, Draco was one of the most renowned potion experts in the Parisian Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had money, respect, good looks—all the things a man could want. But his life was still incomplete. Incomplete without those unruly black locks, those too-large glasses, that stupid, heroic smile. Incomplete without *love*.

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stood by the window of his flat, staring out at the bustling streets below. The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the city, but it didn't reach him. It never did. Not really.

His routine was the same every day. Up at 5 a.m. for a jog, then a shower, and getting dressed for work. He always got the same exact order from the little café around the corner—an iced Americano and a poppy seed bagel sandwich. He'd chat with Elise, the barista, about whatever mundane thing was on her mind. Lately, it was how her girlfriend hoarded the blankets, and how, "Honestly, Draco, you should stop sulking about your ex and get a new booty to smash, because your prime youth is being crushed by all the shit you wizards get up to. And seriously, it was just a kiss. What magic did he do to your pretty little arse that you're still hung up on him?"

If only Draco could show Elise just how much that "just a kiss" had meant.

But today was anything but mundane. As soon as Draco walked into the Ministry building, he could sense the tension in the air. Aurors were rushing around, looking far more frazzled than usual. Papers were flying—literally—and the floo network was lit up like a Christmas tree.

Draco raised an eyebrow as he made his way through the chaos, expertly dodging a witch who was muttering frantically about missing files. This level of pandemonium was rare, even for the Parisian Ministry.

As he reached his office, his secretary, Amélie, intercepted him, her face a mask of professional concern. "Monsieur Malfoy, the Head Auror has requested your presence in his office immediately."

Draco blinked, taken aback. "The Head Auror? What does he want with me?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Amélie replied, glancing around as if she expected the walls to have ears. "But it seemed urgent."

With a curt nod, Draco adjusted his robes and made his way to the Head Auror's office. His mind raced with possibilities, each more unlikely than the last. As a potion expert, he was used to being called in for consultations, but being summoned by the Head Auror himself was unusual.

The corridor leading to the office was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Draco hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open.

And then he froze.

Standing in the middle of the room, looking just as shocked as Draco felt, was Harry Potter.

For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared at each other, the world around them fading into the background. Draco's heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in the silence.

He had imagined this moment so many times, in so many different ways. But now that it was here, he was at a loss for words. All he could do was stand there, his mind reeling, as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Harry looked the same as ever—wild hair, glasses slightly askew, but there was something different about him too. Something that hadn't been there four years ago. A weariness in his eyes, a heaviness in his posture.

Draco swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak, though his voice came out as barely a whisper. "Potter?"

"Malfoy," Harry responded, his tone equally soft, as if he was afraid speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile connection was holding them in place.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to breathe too deeply. They were both just... frozen, suspended in a moment that felt like it could last forever, but couldn't possibly last long enough.

Draco had no idea what to do next, and from the look in Harry's eyes, neither did he. But one thing was certain: whatever was happening, whatever brought Harry back into his life after all this time, everything was about to change.

And neither of them was ready for it.

_____________________________________________________
Author's Note
Wow I finally wrote after such a long time.

A little life update!!!!!
I am in Berlin for my masters degree. Life has been hectic these past few months hence no update
This was just a little piece to say I am not dead

I am not promising anything as I am very busy with my studies but I will try to complete this story and be more regular to update

At least once a week