Wix Ever After

Monday

“Oh wow, he did it. It’s Draco!” were the words that greeted him when he walked into the dining room for breakfast. It was an excited Rene, getting to her feet and running to give Draco a hug.

That explained Dominique and Pansy holding Draco up that morning and forcing him into yet another new outfit, while hair and makeup enchanters made Draco look exactly like himself, if also better in every way. His entrance was apparently a whole thing.

Sol also came forward, his smile rueful rather than happy. He gave Draco a hug and a back slap as he said, “I’d have sworn you weren’t going to make it.” That was as close as Sol came to saying he’d rather Draco not have made it. Rene took over the conversation from there, asking Draco all the details about the elimination.

After the last two days, Draco thought maybe it was alright he was being treated like the wix of the hour. Harry had picked Draco! He still could hardly believe it. He hardly slept from all the excitement and pent up adrenaline coursing through him after the rose ceremony.

There was one drawback. It was the most lovely thing to have his fellow contestants rise from their seats to give him congratulatory hugs, but it also churned in his gut how he also bore bad news. He’d have stumbled over answering Rene’s questions on a good day, because he’d pulled through in the elimination with behavior he’d usually consider at best embarrassing, at worst opening himself up to a lifetime of mockery and misery. Thank Merlin Lee waltzed into breakfast in a pink beret, his smile dazzling, and eyes that were just a bit too mischievous.

“Gather round, love birds! Let’s take a look at you. We’re at the final three at last.” Draco thought he and his fellow contestants did an adequate job of lining up in front of Lee, even if the PAs still popped out of the woodwork to rearrange them. That was when Draco realized he wasn’t the only one that morning treated to a little extra flair. It was subtle and understated, but there was no question everyone looked their best. Which was just as well as they stood there, trying to match Lee’s broad smile, while cameras zipped around them to capture establishing shots.

“All of Britain, and the entire world, is on pins and needles to see which of you lovely wix Harry will choose to marry in just three short weeks. How excited are you when you think you just might be the one?”

Actually imagining that he might be the person Harry chose to marry was not something Draco let himself do. It created a precarious amount of hope, which Draco always squashed down on principle. But here, in the dining room, with all of Lee’s charm encouraging Draco to take the risk and actually picture it - there were real flutters in Draco’s stomach. A real smile spread over his lips. He must look positively dopey, and more, he didn’t care.

“I regret to say, not all of you have the same chance to make it to your wedding vows.” Draco stiffened, but not as much as the other two contestants. And while Lee pitched his voice to sound regretful, his eyes never lost their mischief and the discomfort on the contestants clearly thrilled him. “At the Rose Ceremony last night, it was revealed that the winner of a head-to-head challenge receives immunity at the next elimination. Congratulations, Draco, for securing this week’s First Rose.”

Ah, that was why the PAs made them all change places, so that Draco could be smack dab in the middle when Rene and Sol shot him shocked glances, both one part surprised and two parts… Draco wasn’t making eye contact so he couldn’t really say. At best they were jealous, and he chose to believe it was that instead of the worst-case scenarios he was capable of dreaming up.

“Congrats, Draco,” Rene squeaked, at the same time Sol’s pinched voice offered, “Good on you, mate.” Of course they were gracious. These were Harry’s final choices. The best of the best. Draco closed his eyes and tried to hold onto his smile. Each elimination had gotten harder on the contestants. Clearly the endgame would be brutal.

“The pressure is on for all of you - but also for Harry. You are each here because he’s made deep connections with you and can see any of you as the love of his life,” Lee made eye contact with each contestant, doing his best to stay solemn and serious so the camera could capture just how meaningful Lee knew Harry’s relationship with the contestants were. When the cameras got their fill, Lee’s lips tilted up into a smirk. “But I don’t want any of you saying we didn’t do everything we could to help you make the stronger connection possible. That’s why we’re giving you a special treat this week. A once in a lifetime experience. A chance for you to deepen your connection and kindle passion, one-on-one with Harry Potter, in the most romantic city in the world.

“That’s right, love birds, we’re going to Paris!”

-

To Draco, Paris smelled like cherry blossoms and fresh bread. Before Hogwarts, his mother would always take him with her to the Foire de Paris in spring. As much as his father hated muggles, the sentiment didn’t travel with Malfoys when they left father at home. Paris tasted of sweet, crunchy chouquette. It felt like running hands over yards and yards of fabric while his mother was fitted for couture robes. It was the sound of crisp, haughty French, which Draco would spend the summer trying to replicate to his less sophisticated friends back in England. Paris was the sort of surreal childhood memory that came in faint whisps and maybe only had ever been a dream.

To Wix Ever After, Paris was a series of promotional photo shoots at some of the most recognizable places in the world. The trio were forced to awkwardly stand next to the pyramid at the Louvre Museum, not a single one of them knowing how to look natural as they posed. That morning Draco had felt comfortable in one of his Dominique-selected sweaters - this one with a giant sunflower stretched across it. Now he wondered if he was silly and over the top. For the first time since they threatened his place on the show, Draco wished Silas was there. They’d know just what to do to be authentic and cool and they’d take the rest of the contestants along for the ride. Draco’s stomach dipped a little to realize now that he felt safer, he also missed them. He just hadn’t had the grace to miss them when he could have said it to their face. He tried not to consider if his lack of grace would be his downfall in the end. Draco was certain that every stray thought that slipped into his head pinched his smile further. These two beautiful contestants he was up against were better people than Draco, and Harry would see it.

Fortunately, Rene was the one to save everything. Right as the producers were giving up hope that the contestants would make this location work, Rene threw up her hands and laughed. She turned to Draco, stuck out her tongue, and put hands on her head like big elephant ears, waggling her fingers until Draco laughed. That broke something, maybe the wall that was put up that morning when Sol and Rene received the bad news that their odds of making it to the end had been cut down. Despite every bit of propriety his mother had hammered into him as a child, Draco lifted a hand and pushed his nose up like a pig’s, making his own face back at Rene. She burst into giggles, which broke through Sol’s own anxieties and then all three of them were laughing. Tiny giggles that built into large guffaws, until they had to hold each other up on their feet and any one of them were a snort away from bursting into tears.

Rae called the shot before the crying started. Draco patted a handkerchief to the edge of his eyes as the group was on their way.

The trio were photographed running around the Arc de Triomphe. Sol stopped at a store that exclusively sold tourist tat and purchased everyone berets. They wore them while drinking espresso at Cafe de Flore. Draco almost lost his when he tilted his head back in laughter again on the carousel next to the Eiffel Tower.

It was a giddiness born of stress and relief and excitement and a million other things that must be bursting in the other contestants just as much as it was in Draco. He thought it said a lot about Harry that his final three were people who could embrace this frenzy with laughter.

Their tour of popular landmarks ended with a red building with a large windmill on top, and the words “Moulin Rogue” in blocking along the side. This destination had Sol laughing again, but Draco didn’t recognize it beyond it being the description of the building. Draco saying that allowed made Sol laugh again and he pulled Draco and Rene inside. It was a dinner theater with the very front table set for the three contestants. As soon as the three sat down their waiter opened a bottle of champagne and poured their glasses. Draco gulped his in the excitement of it all, even if it was stupid to do on an empty stomach. Then the lights dimmed, and the show started.

There were a lot of feathers. They stuck out, all bright pink, stretching high above the crowns on dancer’s heads, and were attached to elaborate constructions that wrapped over the dancer’s shoulders and created the illusion they have sparkling butterfly wings and ostrich feathers sprouting from their backs. They all wore thigh-high leather boots, decked out in sparkling sequins that glittered as they traversed the stage. Rhinestones were everywhere, or at least everywhere fabric covered.

There was also quite a lot of skin, and Draco realized what sort of show they were watching.

The music was upbeat and energetic, the dancers twirled in the large exaggerated movements needed to emphasize their costumes and what their costumes didn’t cover while they flowed with the music. The synchronized steps were mesmerizing and showed the dancers mastery of their profession, and as the movements picked up in speed and ferocity Draco found himself joining in with Rene and Sol in excited cheers. Steps quickened for the grand finale, where the pink feathers flew all over and the dancers bent to show off parts that certainly couldn’t be aired on a family friendly production, and right as the music reached its crescendo the dancers stepped aside so one more pink figure could stride out onto the stage.

They were tall, dark, with pink glimmering trousers and a bare, chiseled chest. Bright pink makeup created a feline illusion, emphasized further by the mane of pink feathers cascading from a headpiece. They sashayed to the front of the stage to the last beats of the music, and only when they were right at the edge of the stage did Draco recognize who it was.

“Circe’s tits!” Draco yelped.

“It’s not,” Rene insisted.

“Lee!” Sol hollered in glee.

“Love birds!” Lee bellowed from the stage, and all three of the contestants squealed to see him up there in full cabaret costume. Lee soaked up their delight, spurring them on further by sensually shaking his hips and growling at the air like he was an actual lion. “Thank you, thank you, you’re right, I’m fabulous,” he winked, mostly for the camera, “but let’s not forget the true stars. Join me in thanking these magnificent dancers for our special performance!” Draco got to his feet with the others, cheering as loud as he could, while Sol put two fingers to his lips to whistle. After an appropriate amount of time, Lee drew the attention back to himself for a final announcement. “Before I let you all have your dinner, join me in welcoming one final special guest to the stage for a once-in-a-lifetime act!”

All eyes shifted to follow Lee’s gesture to a door at the back of the stage. Everything hushed as the contestants waited and watched. Draco spied the moment the door knob turned. He watched it push open. He craned his neck to see just who was stepping out. And then his jaw dropped.

Harry Potter stepped out onto the stage, equally topless, with triple the glitter, in flame-red rhinestone-covered pants, and deep red eye make-up and bright red kissable lips. The costume was topped off with an elaborate construction that went over Harry’s shoulders and created the same illusion the pink dancers had of sparkling butterfly wings. He didn’t move with the dancer’s skill or Lee’s innate grace, but Draco’s eyes were glued to his every movement anyway and his skin tingled as he watched.

“Give it up for Harry!” The trio of contestants hardly needed Lee’s encouragement to hoot and holler and clap loud enough that Harry actually blushed and ducked his head. “Oh, don’t pretend to be shy. You’re sexy and you know it. Now let's give them a show!”

Harry didn’t so much look like he knew he was sexy as he gave into the proding. With a shrug to the table of suitors, he gave in to Lee’s demands and with the sort of perfect timing that comes from being excellent show runners, the pink dancers ran off stage and four new dancers took their place, all wearing full, colorful skirts.

What followed was one of the most surreal dinners of Draco’s life, and he had shared his table with an evil wizard. Thankfully, tonight’s entertainment was better in every way than what Voldermort enjoyed. He watched a dance instructor do her best to help Harry learn steps, while Lee did his best to help Harry loosen up so he’d move easily with the group, and by the time Draco was eating his chocolate soufflé everyone on stage was dancing the can can, with Harry laughing through his poor attempt at high kicks.

This standing ovation rose to a new level of enthusiasm. Harry was at his absolute sweetest when he ducked his head again, even though his flushed cheeks already hid his blush. Maybe he was trying to hide his smile.

Tuesday

There was still glitter in Harry’s hair. It sparkled each time he walked through rays of sunshine. A smile tugged at Draco’s lips as he watched Harry’s graceful movements, the easy way he smiled. He was more carefree like this on the Island, too. He found some peace in getting away. Perhaps a crowded public park in France was exactly what he needed to let down his guard and relax. He was nice to look at, too, with his lean athletic build elongated as he tossed a boule towards the cochonnet. Of course Harry was good at this. Draco wondered if he’d ever find a sport that didn’t come naturally to Harry. Dancing, he supposed, and his lips quirked up again at the thought of a lifetime trying to teach Harry steps.

It was silly to dream. Risky. Draco did it anyway as he picked up his own Petanque boule, holding it all wrong as if he hadn’t spent a childhood determined not to embarrass himself to his Parisian cousins. He stood in the marked circle, staring down at the balls already in play. Briefly, he wondered if any of his distant relatives watched the show. He wondered if they remembered him fondly, despite cutting Draco out of their lives when his mother followed his father down a path that made the Malfoys unredeemable. Draco struggled to keep the light-hearted feeling in his chest when he tossed his boule. It landed fourth furthest from the target, just beyond Rene’s attempt. Draco sheepishly grinned and shrugged before returning to his seat, surprised to find Harry in the spot right next to his.

“I thought you’d know how to play this,” Harry said, not unkindly.

Draco shrugged as he plopped into his seat. “Just you watch, Rene and I will make a comeback and get the point.” A breeze drifted by, shifting the glittered strands of Harry’s hair. For once, Draco felt comfortable staring. Maybe because Harry was staring back, his expression just as soft.

“Funny, though,” Harry murmured, quiet enough the breeze wouldn’t carry the words to the other players. “Every time you throw a ball it lands precisely behind the ball furthest away from the target. Almost like you’re aiming.”

Draco tried to limit his response to a single, sudden blink, but clearly he didn’t need to react for Harry to know what he was doing. His eyes flickered to Rene, who was just now taking her turn. “Bad luck, is all.”

“Mmhmm,” was Harry’s non-answer. He nudged Draco’s leg with his own. “Feels a bit unlucky we won’t get a date tonight. Our last didn’t go how I wanted it to, I was hoping for a do over.”

Draco’s stomach might actually have flip flopped. He had to bite back a happy smile at Harry’s declaration. It’s dangerous to hope, Draco reminded himself. A fairly useless warning, seeing how he could still feel the warmth of Harry’s leg against him, sparking all sorts of feelings in his chest. Draco’s eyes flickered back up to Rene, who was gleefully hopping up and down after having thrown her own boule right up against the cochonnet. Her joy twisted his gut in different, less exciting ways.

It was dangerous to hope. Dangerous to weigh hope against jealousy and fear. Dangerous to consider being selfish and hoarding all the pieces of Harry he could get so that Harry never had a chance to consider anyone else. Draco wondered if Harry would let him keep Harry all to himself. He wondered if, should Harry let him, if Harry would later regret choosing Draco over the others. Draco wondered if whoever was sent home this week would still be graceful at the end, if Draco did everything he could to get in the way of them spending any time at all with Harry.

Draco blinked again before turning and doing his best to smile as he met Harry’s eyes. “I’ll still be here next week,” he reminded. “I feel like I have all the time in the world.”

Somehow, Harry’s gaze softened further. He squeezed Draco’s knee as he stood.

It was such a lovely day. Draco did everything he could to enjoy the time with Harry and his fellow contestants, determined not to regret giving another contestant a chance at Harry’s heart. Determined to spend the evening rebuilding the walls keeping hope at bay that he’d let fall on Sunday when Harry asked him to stay.

Wednesday

If Draco wasn’t going to see Harry for an entire day, at least he was blessed to see some of the most beautiful art in the world. The sculpture of Psyche revived by cupid's kiss. The massive painting of the Wedding Feast at Cana. The Mona Lisa with her mysterious smile. Draco and Rene toured the Louvre from opening to close. Draco focused on staying in the moment of experiencing each masterpiece, definitely never once thinking for a moment about Harry alone for the entire day with Sol.

Thursday

It had been ten weeks of wracked nerves and constant self doubt, but none of that held water to the pulse-beating anxiousness that came with knowing Harry was waiting for him, just him, because Harry wanted him to be there. Draco’s eyes had popped open before his alarm spell sounded and it had been impossible to calm himself enough to go back to sleep. He’d had more than enough time to put on the painstakingly selected outfit Dominique had packed for him - pink and yellow and pretty, which Draco hadn’t known he would like until he wore it. But it wasn’t what Draco wanted to wear today. For a day alone with Harry, he wanted to feel entirely himself.

He’d stripped to his knickers and dug to the bottom of his luggage, where his own well-worn clothing waited. He felt more himself as he dressed to spend a day indoors, baking and reading old tombs in the library. The blue-gray sweater was a traditional cut, but didn’t look dated. Classic, perhaps. Sophisticated, if he was in a mind to see the best in it. He wore it over a sharp collared shirt, and thought the look would fit in any of the trendy cafes in Paris.

He smiled at his reflection in the mirror, foolishly allowing his thoughts to carry themselves away again. He had a date with Harry Potter.

What a feeling, to find Harry waiting for him in the lobby of the hotel. Harry’s face cracked into the largest smile when Draco stepped out of the lift. He’d been waiting for Draco, feeling his own anticipation. It was so easy to let an answering smile grow. Easy as anything, for Draco to open his arms when Harry greeted him with a hug.

Was it possible this could be the rest of his life? Was it cruelty, to let himself consider it, when the possibility could so easily be yanked away?

Draco didn’t want to dwell on what could be, when the what could be bad. He just wanted to think about how warm it was when Harry held him. He wanted to remember the sharp, spicy scent that was Harry alone, and not worry he’d never get another chance to be close enough to smell it. In this warm, happy space the two men created, it felt okay not to dwell on the future. It felt okay just to take Harry’s hand, and let the slidealong come easy. Both men were content to leave their last trip together in the past.

They landed on a wooden surface, looking out over lily-covered water. It was a pond, with green foliage along the edges. Willow trees grew tall and their branches draped elegantly over the water. Patches of color popped over the landscape, vibrant and beautiful. Staring at it felt like looking at a painting.

“We’re on a bridge,” Harry said, because they were on a bridge and Harry was the sort to state the obvious. It was teal in color and Japanese in design. More plants were growing along it, shading the two men even as they lit the landscape with more color.

“Have I been here before?” Draco asked, despite the impossibility of Harry having an answer. “It looks familiar,” he said to the wisteria hanging above them.

Harry tugged at Draco’s hand, pulling him along. “I bet it’s another fancy garden. If we look around, we’ll find someone who can tell you all about the plants.”

It was another fancy garden. A gloriously fancy garden. It wasn’t very large, all things considered, but it was sculpted with an artist’s eye and each intricate choice so deliberately enhanced the beauty that Draco thought his heart might burst from his chest just looking at it. He let Harry drag him around and, after the cameras captured plenty of footage of just the two men exploring, a tour guide miraculously appeared before them. Draco might have worried he was being obnoxious when he abandoned Harry’s hand to stand at the guide’s side, where he asked too many questions, sometimes slipping into conversation in French, but each time Draco looked at Harry trailing behind him he saw a gentle contentment.

Draco couldn’t let himself be hopeful. He couldn’t let himself believe Harry might indulge him for the rest of his life.

After a simple but but exquisite lunch, the duo found themselves at the Musée Marmottan Monet. Draco might have thought Harry would grow bored visiting the gardens of a famous painter, only to follow it up by visiting a museum featuring said painter, with painting after painting of the garden where they’d just been. It was true that Harry didn’t bring the same enthusiasm Draco did to reading the placard of each painting or cross referencing art with history outlined in a helpful brochure. Still, from time to time Draco would turn to look for Harry only to find him staring intently at a canvas. Usually it was a painting that hadn’t stood out right away to Draco. Draco would wander up next to Harry, the placards and brochures forgotten, and the two men would stare, taking a moment to live in the feelings the painting conjured up, as if by magic.

-

“None of the Impressionists were wizards?” Harry asked from across a table so small you wouldn’t guess how expensive the meal they shared must be. Draco shifted and their knees bumped. Harry didn’t move his knee away.

Draco hid his smile behind the hand that wasn’t spearing asparagus with a fork. “I suppose there’s no way to know for certain that a wix didn’t sneak themselves in, but with so many magical mediums being invented by artists in the nineteenth century it’s not a surprise the magically inclined followed their own paths.” Draco sighed wistfully before biting down on perfectly crisp vegetables. They were glazed in a house made honey sauce that he wouldn’t have been able to bribe them into sharing the recipe for, even if he still had his fortune. “You should come back, after all this, and visit the Dimensionist museum. You don’t know what mind bending means until you see Tailleur’s take on painting a lemniscate.”

Harry had long since finished his plate of butter smothered meat and was now leaning back comfortably, clearly enjoying how his legs were entwined with Draco. “I don’t know what any of that means.”

Draco smirked, waving a shape that vaguely looked like a figure eight. “A painting on time and space, reaching for infinity.”

Harry granted Draco a look of surprise, inching towards confusion. “You like that sort of thing?”

With a shrug, Draco licked the last of the sauce from his fork, savoring the flavor. It didn’t feel right to explain how his mother critiqued anything avant garde, but also was sure to visit the most experimental exhibits and wouldn’t leave until she saw everything. “I like the history,” was what Draco settled for.

“If the wix museums are that great, why is everything we’re doing muggle?”

That was easy to laugh at. “Harry,” he said with a bit too much enjoyment, “the Ministère des Affaires Magiques despises us. I doubt they approved a single permit for this show. It would be easier to throw concealment charms up on all the cameras and get us into, I am pleased to say, one of the best restaurants I’ve ever visited in my life. Seriously, if you marry me you’ll have to promise to bring me back. One more gougères and I could die happy.”

For the briefest of moments Draco was all worry. Not mentioning marriage was one of the unspoken rules of the show, like never asking Harry about the other contestants. The last time Draco had suggested Harry would keep him here until the end Harry had visibly panicked at Draco’s hope.

This time Harry snorted. “You’re easy to please.”

This had Draco laughing again, only a bit nervous sounding, if entirely uncertain if that was true. It was rapidly overwhelming Draco how the only thing that would please him would be Harry making him his final pick. He reminded himself to stay here in the moment and appreciate what he had.

After the meal, the two men strolled together down the streets of Paris. Harry had his hands in his pockets, but he was close and from time to time his shoulder bumped pleasantly against Draco’s. The day had been so completely lovely, Draco didn’t know it would be possible for an experience to feel so perfect. He was losing the fight to hold back hope. He wanted to be able to spend every day this close to Harry. He wanted a lifetime of adventuring together, of sharing new experiences and discoveries.

They were just around the corner from Draco’s lodging and Draco was just preparing to exchange wistful good night wishes when Harry paused out front of an unfamiliar building. A hotel Draco didn’t recognize. Draco’s gaze shifted to Harry, still paused on the sidewalk, now with the vaguest tightening around his eyes.

“Uh, I’m sorry if this part is weird,” Harry offered cryptically. Then he leaned to push the door to the hotel open and held it for Draco to walk in.

The lobby was tastefully decorated in dark woods that shone under bright light. It was unnaturally empty of people, with only one man in a sharp pink suit standing in place of a concierge. “Darlings!” Lee exclaimed and it echoed in the space. Draco wondered if the sound was intentionally ominous. “How did you enjoy your date?”

Draco glanced from a gregarious Lee to a suddenly reserved Harry. His shoulders had slumped and he was staring down at his feet. Draco looked back at Lee and did his best to put on his charming smile. He didn’t know what this new game they were playing was, but the cameras were watching. “J'ai passé un bon moment,” said Draco, as if he was twelve again and showing off his French for Pansy.

This time Lee’s laugh was warm and filled the space fully. “Excellente,” he quipped. He stepped easily out from around the front desk to meet Harry and Draco in the middle of the open space, slipping back into host mode as he moved. “The entire production of Wix Ever After put our heads together to plan out yours and Harry’s perfect romantic date. But, there is one more step before you bid Harry adieu.” Lee’s eyes twinkled as he pulled a large brass key out of his pocket. “You have a choice tonight, Draco. You can go back to your hotel alone, or you can accept this key to the Fantasy Suite upstairs, and spend the night alone with Harry, for the first and only time without any cameras watching.” Lee held the key out further and it glinted in the light.

Draco couldn’t help his eyes from growing wide in surprise. The key was ridiculously, unnecessarily, made-for-the camera big. Or maybe that was just Draco’s mind blowing it out of proportion.

Draco turned to Harry for guidance on what he should do, but Harry offered little more than a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. What did that mean? Did he not want Draco to take the key? Was this one of those games the producers made Harry play? More importantly, would Harry resent him for playing along?

Draco opened his mouth to ask for guidance but Lee interrupted with a “Nuh, uh, uh.” He shook the key back and forth in place of a wagging finger. “This choice is yours alone, Draco.” Then, perhaps because he read the degree of discomfort on Draco’s face, Lee added, “Rest assured Harry agreed to participate in this activity before we came to France. So now it’s up to you.”

Lee’s reassurance eased the stress strung tight in Draco. It wasn’t necessarily that Draco trusted Lee, more that a quick glance at Harry not having furrowed his brow in frustration made it clear Harry didn’t feel the need to push back at a lie. He could always fall back on Harry being honest to a fault in his feelings. Draco stared at him harder, trying to understand what his body said as he did his best not to say anything. Harry kept glancing down at his feet. A slight blush graced his cheeks. It was reserved and… bashful?

Draco nibbled his lips thoughtfully as he turned forward to face Lee, who was still smiling wide and added on an eyebrow wiggle for good measure.

Wait, why did he do that? It was… suggestive?

Oh. Oh shit. Yeah, of course. Lee was offering Draco a key to a room to spend the night alone with Harry without any cameras. Draco’s embarrassed flush was due to not immediately realizing this was about sex.

Suddenly Draco also wasn’t able to turn to look Harry in the eye. His mind was whirling over Lee’s every word and suggestion. New questions spun up anxiety. Harry had agreed to participate in this “activity.” Lee hadn’t said if the offer of a night alone was just given to Draco, or if all the contestants would be given the chance. He had made it clear Draco wasn’t allowed to ask questions. Draco’s nibble turned into a gnaw as he worked his lip raw. Was Harry spending the night with all the contestants? Was he planning to sleep with Draco, or sleep with Draco?

Had he spent last night in bed with Sol?

Draco’s face might as well be flaming. He actually lifted his hands to his cheeks to check if they were as hot as they felt. They were definitely something. He tried not to think about the footage the cameras were picking up, or how Lee and his minions would twist it for the world to watch.

Did Draco want to have sex with Harry? That thought led to a quick flick of his gaze to Harry and back again. Just to check that Harry was still all buff and beautiful. Of course he wanted to have sex with Harry. He’d been shagging look-a-like one night stands for years. He’d seen Harry’s chiseled chest enough times and remembered it fondly and wasn’t afraid to admit, if only to himself, that it would be impossible to remove Harry in a swimsuit from his fantasies for the rest of his life.

But did he want to have sex with Harry here? Now? When he didn’t know if Sol had slept with him yesterday or if Rene would do so tomorrow? Was Harry looking for someone who would get into his bed?

Oh, hell. What a question to be unprepared for. What a choice for Lee to thrust upon him. It was exactly the sort of sneaky shit this show kept doing. They liked to make contestants put themselves on the line, never knowing where Harry really stood.

Well, then, that was a different question. Was Draco willing to put himself on the line?

Hadn’t he trampled over it already?

Draco’s hand shot out and he took the damned key. Bloody hell, a night without cameras was not a commitment to fuck. Harry would understand. All the eyes across the world watching would understand. Draco gulped, hoping everyone would understand.

The producers were not going to do a damn thing to help anyone understand.

At Lee’s direction, Harry and Draco were led over to the lift which opened immediately upon their arrival. Both men walked stiffly as they entered the metal box. The walls were padded with a pattern in pink and red. The space itself signalling an impending intimacy. In mutual, silent agreement the men stood with a large gap between them. It was the furthest the two men stood apart from each other all day.

The ascent to the top floor took longer than it should have. Unquestionably it was dragged out by technology or magic, the producers making Draco wait in that box long enough that he actually started to sweat. His hands were still only because they clung to the railing behind him, but he couldn’t stop his foot from tapping.

Draco didn’t mean to glance at Harry. In fact, he was trying very hard not to look. For Harry it was the same, but their eyes met anyway. Harry still had his blush. One of his own hands clung to the railing and Draco could see his knuckles white. Draco wasn’t the only one affected. Of course, Harry was the one who pushed back his nerves to smile encouragement. This time it reached his eyes and Draco’s stomach swooped with pleasure.

Harry didn’t regret this. Harry wanted him here.

Finally, the elevator doors opened. The two men walked into a hallway. The carpet must have been transfigured to get the red heart print in place. Harry knew where they were going, all the way to the end of a hall where another transfiguration provided them a door with the top curved into another heart. No mistaking the message the producers were trying to send here.

The door had an old fashioned lock with a ridiculously big keyhole, just the right size for Draco’s ridiculous key. Bloody hell, if he was doing this he was doing it. Draco shoved the key in and twisted.

Beyond the door was a light so bright you couldn’t see past it. Draco turned away from the charm, finally leaning back into Harry’s space. It felt right, to be there. He gave into his instincts and took hold once more of Harry’s hand. Draco interlaced their fingers and it was easy, as if it were natural. He wasn’t brave enough to smile encouragingly at Harry, but that was okay. He’d let Harry be the hero. Draco just had to be brave enough to hold Harry close for as long as he wanted to be held. And that’s exactly what Draco did as he led Harry into the Fantasy Suite before them.

Bright blinding light was everywhere as draco crossed the threshold. Bright in a way that wouldn’t let any camera see through. Bright enough to make the room beyond it mysterious and enticing, even if it was just a room.

Not that it was just a room. Once past the threshold Draco could clearly see it was a very huge, luxurious room. Fantasy Suite, Lee had called it. Yup. With its plush furniture, elegant fireplace, four postered bed, and what Draco was fairly certain was a jacuzzi in the corner, this may have come out of one of Draco’s fantasies. There were a lot of places one could have sex in here, Draco’s mind also supplied. He gulped again, all too aware of Harry’s hand still gripped in his own.

There was nothing to be done, Draco had to finally face Harry.

He turned, and Harry was right there. So close. Their bodies almost bumped together at Draco’s movement. It would have put them chest to chest. It would take hardly anything for their lips to brush together.

“Um,” Harry said, suddenly dislodging his hand from Draco’s. Harry unceremoniously let go and stepped past Draco further into the room until there was nothing but space between them. Draco hardly had time to feel self conscious until Harry turned back. He was standing tall with his jaw stubbornly set. All signs that he was about to proclaim something, the way brave heroes do. Draco was nervous again, second guessing his welcome.

Harry cleared his throat and then said with firm certainty, “I’m really glad we’ll be spending this time together, but you should probably know I do not want to have sex.” Draco froze so solid he might as well have been an ice sculpture. He couldn’t keep the pained look off his face. Harry obviously read a lot into it because he was swiftly adding on, “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I just, well, I don’t want to do that tonight.”

Harry’s words venturing into uncomfortable was a red flag for Draco that Harry was misunderstanding. “Of course, that’s fine,” Draco forced out. It sounded forced. Pinched maybe. Not so much disappointed as squeaky. Draco tried again. “It’s a relief to hear that. I was worried you’d be put off if I didn’t, well…” Draco didn’t actually want to say the words “put out.” He caught himself wondering what the public would say when this was aired on Sunday, then he nearly jumped out of his skin at the realization they’d left the cameras behind.

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d never want you to feel pressured into anything, Draco. I swear, I’m not like that!” Harry was rambling out his own anxieties. It was more than a little reassuring to see him off guard. Draco wasn’t certain he’d let himself appear this out of control even once in the show. It was more than his words. Harry slouched more. His hands waved in larger movements when he spoke. It was like a switch had flicked, and everything Harry was just a little bit more.

A smile tugged at Draco’s lips. They were alone, without anyone watching, and it mattered. He couldn’t stop the small laugh from bursting out of him.

“Consent’s not funny,” Harry scolded, his eyes all bushy in the way he got when Draco frustrated him.

“It’s not, it’s not,” Draco tried to reassure. “I’m not laughing at you respecting my boundaries, Harry,” it was so easy to drop into a teasing lilt, exaggerating it a little in the freedom of this space. “It’s just, you know,” he tried to stare at Harry like Harry did in fact know.

Maybe he did, because instead of arguing or getting defensive about it Harry just plopped down on a chair next to him and sighed. “You’re okay with this then? Us doing… nothing?”

Draco might have teased him again but Harry looked so uncertain. Something stirred in Draco. An urge to take care of Harry. “Not having sex isn’t the same as doing nothing,” Draco said, trying to sound nonchalant as he walked over to the chair across from Harry. He sat down in it and had the odd sensation they were back in the interview room about to interrogate each other. It was familiar, and good in a way that heats you with pleasure from the inside out. “As long as you really mean it when you said you want to spend time together. I’m happy doing anything.”

Harry’s eyes darkened just a tad. “Anything?” The heat in Harry’s gaze made Draco smirk.

“I might not dare to put on feathers and do the can can,” Draco drawled, “but let’s see where the evening goes.”

The smile that slid up over Harry’s face had Draco’s toes curling in his boots. That wasn’t a smile Harry offered him on camera. It left Draco fiercely glad he’d risked coming. He’d been right to trust Harry. Maybe he could trust him again? Draco lipped his lips, more than a little nervous. He didn’t know what to say when he could say anything. He didn’t know what he was allowed to want.

But he did want. Draco desperately wanted. And it wasn’t Harry’s body (even though it definitely, absolutely also was). Draco wanted all the pieces of Harry. He wanted in to all the things Harry had locked up behind polite smiles and pinched gazes for ten weeks. He wanted all the words not said in front of an audience. Draco was willing to be bold, if it meant he could be close to Harry.

“Why no sex?” It didn’t feel as awkward to ask as Draco thought it would. “I mean, I was going to suggest as much,” Draco added in the hopes it would make Harry feel put less on the spot, “but why did you?”

Harry sighed and stretched into the chair. His fingers went wide before clenching down on the arm rests. “I’m not one of those no-sex-before-marriage people, not that there’s anything wrong with no sex before marriage,” surprisingly, Harry was quicker to amend what he meant here behind the scenes. Maybe because he was quicker to speak without thinking it through 110% and there was the chance he might have to backtrack a little. “I’m just not keen on fooling around when… well… I’m dating three of you. I know the show made a big thing of it, building up the suspense, and I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“You thought I couldn’t wait to jump your bone?” Draco asked, keeping it crude and light hearted to mask the serious feelings bottled up inside him.

Harry shifted his weight. For a moment Draco thought he wouldn’t straight up answer. “I don’t know,” Harry admitted. He let out a sigh bigger than anything Draco had seen before. “People want a lot from me. It’s usually best to be upfront before things get messy.”

Messy. Messy how? As much as Draco wanted to know, as much as he felt he could go out on a limb in this space, he also could feel the tension in the air and didn’t want to pull it so tight it broke. He wanted Harry happy.

“That makes sense,” was Draco’s peace offering. “I actually really like that you felt like you could share your boundaries.” He laughed again, aware of how brittle it sounded. He didn’t want to use this space to dissect all the ways he avoided stating his own needs. He’d heard Harry and Hermione discuss that. Quickly, he tried to change tact so Harry wouldn’t notice. “Is there anything else you want to share? We could agree to some guidelines. Set an agenda.” The last was a joke again, and Draco was glad to see it worked. Harry looked good relaxing into himself. Good enough that Draco remembered they were all alone, and Harry didn’t want to go all the way.

Neither do I, Draco reminded himself. But… well…

“Why am I not surprised you want rules? Is the secret to your success on this show that you’re just good at following directions?” It wasn’t meant as a dig but it stung anyway. Draco hid his frown behind a hand.

“You’ve seen me flaunt the rules, Harry. I’m quite rebellious.”

This chuckle was deep and did things to Draco’s insides. Draco had to shift his own weight around to try to shake it off. He was suddenly aware that Harry had a direct view of him, all of him, and he lifted a leg up so one foot rested on the other knee.

“Show me rebellious, then,” Harry challenged. “Tell me something you’d never say on TV.”

Draco was pinned by Harry’s stare. It made every inch of his skin heat, and he was afraid to move lest his movement reveal just how much he was affected. Even though they’d both just gone very solidly on the record of not wanting to get handsy. Draco cleared his throat for the millionth time that day, trying to gain some control of himself. It was a lost cause. So lost he blurted out the most random, secret thing he could think of.

“Binns actually got kicked out of the Excalibur Club when he published a paper suggesting we were creating muggle-born wix by using magic in mixed-blood spaces.”

That, of course, was not what Harry had meant. His expression lurched from sultry to perplexed. “What?”

Draco put his leg down then immediately lifted the other to the opposite knee. He fidgeted with the cuff of his pants. “I almost said that in front of the cameras, but I realized they were filming and I stopped. It probably would have gotten the manor impounded.”

Draco had Harry’s full interest now, but it wasn’t in the sexy way. In fact, Draco could sit up at the same time Harry did because he was no longer at risk of showing off an erection. More’s the pity, there was plenty he and Harry could have done without veering into actual sex.

“I’m not following, when did you almost say that?”

Draco had to remind himself that Harry spoke to lots of suitors, it made sense that this one conversation that had been important to Draco wasn’t what mattered to Harry. Draco knew he had made an impression in ways other than lecturing on magical history. Draco didn’t need a man who cared about Professor Binns’ lectures on magical ecosystems. If he did, Draco could go chase after Everett. He wanted Harry, with his gruff exterior that patience and authenticity could break through to reach something meaningful on the inside.

In any case, Draco waved the question away. “I don’t think you came up here with me so I could lecture you on controversial magical theory.”

One of Harry’s eyebrows quirked up and Draco had the oddest sensation that Harry wouldn’t mind the lecture. There was a long pause where Draco could see Harry considering asking him to do it anyway. Who knows why, maybe just to bath himself in the sound of Draco talking.

It was Harry’s turn to clear his throat awkwardly before continuing forward. “What else would you say?” he asked. Damn it all, he sounded genuine. His gaze was sincere. Notions of sex had fallen off completely, to be replaced with authenticity.

Well. Since they were alone. And Harry was asking. There’d never be another time to tell the truth. “I’m completely broke and I’m worried the manor might collapse in on itself while I’m not there to maintain it.”

Draco couldn’t quite place the moment it stopped being odd that Harry would look at him with gentleness. It was a softness around Harry’s eyes. The slightest quirk of his lips. It no longer looked out of place, directed at Draco. “I don’t think that’s as much of a secret as the Binns’ thing,” Harry teased without rancor.

Draco huffed, shifting to hide his bashfulness. “You really can’t tell anyone about Binns,” he said because he had to say something and acknowledging Harry’s kindness wasn’t it.

“Alright,” Harry agreed easily. As easily as he’d let their legs tangle at the restaurant. As easily as he took Draco’s hand as they strolled together.

It was terrifying how easily Draco could imagine this life, with him and Harry fitting so well together. Draco flung out his next demand to break the easy, terrifying silence. “Tell me something you wouldn’t say in front of the cameras.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, eyeing Draco. “What do you want to know?”

What did Draco not want to know? He wanted everything Harry could give him and more. He wanted knowledge that could only be gained over a lifetime, but didn’t dare ask for it even in jest. Instead he cleared his throat, and started at the beginning. “Why did you come on the show?”

“To find love.” The answer was so flippant, exactly as Harry recited for the cameras. It was an opening of a sort. An opportunity for Draco to put back up all of his walls and hide from the hope and the dream of forever. He could be cordial, he could be polite, he could play the game he signed up for and never have anything deeper. He could go home in three weeks, or sneak through one final time and try marriage with a man he may never be allowed to know.

Only that wasn’t enough for Draco. Not anymore. He’d blown past his own defenses and put everything on the table. It was only here, in this space gifted to just the two of them, that he realized he needed Harry to do the same.

“But why do that on the show?” Draco didn’t mind that he sounded tentative, it was okay to be nervous when speaking at all was brave. The important thing was that he stayed firm in his conviction.

Harry smiled tight like he did when the public asked questions he didn’t like. He looked away from Draco, off into the middle distance. It was unclear if he ever planned to answer, but Draco gave him time, let him work through his thoughts. Harry wasn’t a fidgeter, but Draco could read stress in the lines of his face. Harry’s jaw tightened until he noticed and made himself relax. Finally, after a long stretch of silence that surprisingly hadn’t brought Draco strife, Harry sat up and returned Draco’s gaze.

Then he gave the last answer Draco ever expected. “I gave up on falling in love.”

“What now?” he sounded more shocked than he’d meant to, but how could he not?

Harry’s smile was more than a little bitter. More bitter than Draco had seen in weeks. “Surprised you with that one, didn’t I.” Something twinged under the bitterness. All hurt and lonely. It was clear as day to Draco, who knew Harry hadn’t been obliged to share his secrets with. For some reason, Harry had chosen to.

Draco pushed himself up so he could lean towards Harry, arms rested on his knees. He wanted to go closer, close enough to touch. Harry looked like he could use a hug just now. He didn’t look like he’d accept it, so Draco settled with scooting as close as he could without technically leaving his chair. “How did that happen?” he asked, trying to sound soothing.

Harry half shrugged, back to staring at nothing. “Blew every relationship with people who knew me before the war. Couldn’t figure out how to build a life with a muggle. Had ten too many dates with people enamoured with the famous Harry Potter.” He shrugged a single shoulder before looking back at Draco with a twist of a smile. “Do your dates show up thinking they know everything about you?”

Draco really, really wanted to hold him. Instead he offered his own truths, since that’s what Harry would be willing to accept. “Witch Weekly doesn’t run many listicles about me, Harry. And if they did, the muggle men I shack up with wouldn’t have read it.”

“You date muggles?” At least the novelty of the idea pulled Harry out of his stupor, even if Draco’s harsh laugh in response held echoes of Harry’s bitterness.

“I shag muggles,” Draco corrected, “when Pansy drags me out to a club for special occasions. As you say, I can’t build a life with a muggle. Can’t exactly take them back to the manor and warn them off the basement until I’m certain I’ve lifted all the death curses.” Draco was fiddling his fingers now, pinching at his skin. “There’s no risk of a date thinking anything at all about me, at least. Then again, no one who knows anything about me would agree to a date.”

This silence was also fine. Of course Harry needed time to process the ugly truth of Draco’s life. It wouldn’t be that hard to believe. Harry hadn’t wanted to date Draco, either.

“What would you have done if you never came on the show?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.

It was Draco’s turn to sigh. He dropped his head into his hands to rub his eyes, speaking with his face half covered. “Worked on the manor. If I could ever make the lands profitable again wizard families would come back. If I ever paid back my debts, I could finally earn a living and could pay for help. If I…” Draco gulped, “If I could prove that Malfoy’s could be trusted, they’d join in the solstice ceremonies. Magic would be put back into the land. Everything would be… well, easier, if not alright. And then…” Draco pulled down his hands. He stared at them instead of Harry. “Maybe one day, when I was old, I’d find a nice enough woman who’d be willing to marry me. Someone who’d take a fertility charm over traditional methods of conception. Then I’d have an heir, and everything would be exactly as it should be. And then I’d die.” Draco was under no illusion. This vision of the future was sad and pathetic, and still it was the best case he could hope for. Something so dire he’d never even told Pansy the plan.

He told Harry, though. Draco told him so he could look up at him now, completely bare, and ask the same in return. “Tell me why you did the show, Harry.”

Harry flinched, but he didn’t look away this time. He stared straight at Draco, even after listening to Draco’s worst nightmare and best case scenario all wrapped up in one. His eyes weren’t filled with pity. It was worse than pity. It was understanding. Something scarier and riskier and all too coveted. Something that reminded Draco he was looking to squash down his hope, and was once again failing.

“I’d just gotten out of another bad thing, it was flashed all over the papers like always, and Lee took me out for drinks. Had more than I should, and ranted at Lee for too long. You can’t trust him because he’s too good at listening. He’ll get you to say things you don’t mean to. Like, I was angry that I had to go through the whole process of finding someone to fall in love with, when I don’t care about finding the perfect person. I just want someone nice enough to come home to, who I can take to Sunday dinner so everyone stops asking me when I’ll settle down. Someone who wants to start a family, and who’d be good to the kids. I asked him if there was a way to skip to that part and he said yes.”

Draco hesitated a beat before saying, “That doesn’t sound like giving up on love.”

Harry snorted. “Doesn’t really compare to everyone else, though, does it?”

This probably wasn’t the time to say how it wasn’t too far off from most of Draco’s family. Arranged marriages had fallen out of style by the time his parents had wed, but theirs was still an arrangement between those of shared values, not a whirlwind romance. Nothing like the people Harry admired, like all the Weasleys paired off with childhood sweethearts and lovers who’d found passion in the throws of war. That’s what Harry wanted, deep down. That’s what he thought he had to give up on.

Draco didn’t know if Harry was sharing this with him so Draco would reassure him it was okay to settle, or so Draco could tell him to abandon the show and go find the person of his dreams. Bloody hell if either option was acceptable.

Harry didn’t need to settle. Just like Draco didn’t need to settle. There was more here, between them, Draco was certain.

“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” Draco said, slow but bold, because he knew he needed to be bold now. Bold enough to add, “but I’ve been thinking about it since…” he found he actually struggled to say it, even with his commitment to boldness and no cameras to catch the words.

Harry hesitated a moment before asking, “Since?”

Draco felt his blush return. He held back his fidgets because he was being bold and brave, damnit. Of course his eyes returned to Harrys. Deep green emeralds burning with enough emotion that Draco realized he wanted to say more. If only to keep that gaze burning at him.

“Since you nabbed that golden egg out of the dragon’s nest. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I spent the next two years obsessing over how to get you to notice me.”

“Um,” Harry murmured, considering. “You hated me.”

Draco nodded once. “Sure. And I was jealous you were good at everything and everyone liked you. And I really, really wanted your attention.”

For just a moment there was a flash of heat and amusement in Harry’s gaze. “You like seeing me on a broom?” he asked. Draco’s scarlet flush was answer enough for Harry. His eyes flickered over Draco, taking in every piece of him as he considered. “Why’d you bring this up.”

Draco had his response ready. “When did you first think about shagging me?” he asked. Harry’s eyes raised in surprise. “I know you did,” Draco insisted. “You admitted it on camera when you were talking to Lee. When was your first time?”

Harry scoffed, but he was amused. He rolled his eyes, mostly at himself, right before he answered. “It was the Yule Ball for me. I was such a mess, and you…” he trailed off, his eyes staring off into the distance of memory. “You are a very good dancer.”

Draco’s breath caught. He remembered all the times he caught Harry watching him dance. Then his mouth went dry as he thought about how their fourth year ended and everything that came after.

It must have been all the ways Draco had already stretched outside his comfort zone in this competition that made him bold enough to say, “If only we’d been able to get over everything else and spend fifth year snogging each other. How things would have been different.” Somehow, that brought Harry’s soft smile back. The two men stared at each other, relaxing into each other’s gazes and a not-quite nostalgia for something that never happened.

“I don’t think you’ve given up on love,” Draco declared with a certainty he seldom mustered.

Harry slumped into his chair, a single brow raised as he rested his chin on a hand. He sounded bemused as he answered, “Of course you don’t.”

“No really,” Draco insisted. “Look at us,” he motioned a hand back and forth. “We’re a fucking love story.”

This time Harry chuckled. “Not that you think highly of yourself or anything.”

“Psh, I’m deeply insecure,” Draco corrected. “But I think highly of you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Harry warned.

“But I do,” Draco stayed firm. “Because you’ve spent this entire show narrowing down the contestants to the most honest, sincere, generous people, and me for some reason. The people who you can build fantasies around. Who you’re able to deeply connect with emotionally. Because you are looking for love. Even if your deep, dark, hidden secret is you’re a jaded asshole just like the rest of us.”

Draco watched Harry’s expression churn through so many emotions, ending with a burst of amusement that came out in laughter. It was a relief to hear him laugh sincerely. It broke through the heaviness that had weighed down on both of them. “I can’t believe you finally get me alone without cameras and you decide to have a deep heart-to-heart conversation,” Harry fake complained, a not-so-subtle way to avoid responding to Draco’s words. Draco let him take the escape.

“What’d you and Sol do, make out?” Draco meant it as a joke but it was Harry’s red face that had him laughing. “You did, didn’t you! Tell me you got in the bathtub with him. Oh my god, I bet you did.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask about the other contestants,” Harry grumbled, definitely avoiding the question.

Draco smirked, too pleased to care about any social faux pas. He felt light hearted and dopey as he said, not for the first time, “I just want you to be happy, Harry.” And it was true. Even if Draco hoped more than ever that Harry would realize they could find their happiness best together.

Friday

They’d absolutely promised each other they could share the giant bed without having to touch, and then woke up entangled in each other’s arms. Not even Harry’s morning breath could stop it from being sweet. Draco imagined a million more intimate evenings. A million more mornings together.

Then he had to get up and leave, so Harry could spend a day with somebody else.

Draco was shipped off to one final tourist destination.

The catacombs suited Draco’s mood. He was surrounded on all sides by rows and rows of bones. He stared into the empty eye sockets of skulls and mused on who they were, what dreams they’d once had, and whether any of the dreams came true. He knew the muggle history of these underground corridors, and how it had been half invented to feed dark rituals that powered dark magic. All the magic was gone now, leaving the bones bare and unknowable. Draco looked to them anyway, praying for a yet unknown skill for divination.

Saturday

Draco stood on the sidelines with his perfect, timeless rose. He thought he’d finally have a Rose Ceremony without fear, but nerves plagued him still. He was safe, but Sol and Rene were not.

The two final contestants were brought to stand right in front of Harry so that Harry could gaze into their eyes while he said his final words. Draco heard Harry talk about how he valued both of them for being honest, sincere, and generous. Harry said he had to pick the person who he felt he’d made the strongest emotional connection. Draco’s stomach fluttered, but it was no longer from nerves over who Harry would pick.

Harry gave Sol his rose, and Sol laughed and cried with a frenzy Draco was far too familiar with.

Rene only cried, her sadness more real than Sol’s relief. Draco joined in the round of hugs as everyone said goodbye. He tried to be in the moment caring for Rene, and not pondering the future, and whether or not the same sadness waited for him.