A/N: This is the long awaited prequel to my one-shot "ONE WISH". This will be a multi-chaptered story and revolve around where we left off in the sequel and explore the years before that since the wizarding war.

Notes: established relationship.

Just Harry

Prologue

Present

Draco ran a hand down his face as he shuffled in through the front door. It had only just stopped raining outside and he felt frozen stiff. Seeker padded up to him his tail low between his legs and a soft whine choking from his throat. He gave a fleeting smile and stroked his fingers through the dog's warm fur before toeing his shoes off and sliding them under the side table.

"How've you been today, boy?" he asked softly as he dragged his aching body to the kitchen. He blinked, trying to rid the images of St. Mungo's from behind his eyelids. It would take a while for them to fade and then he'd be going back tomorrow and embedding the clinical horrors ever deeper into his mind. He shuddered and pried open the fridge.

It was sparsely filled and the few items in there made his stomach churn.

He busied himself with dishing out some dog-food into Seeker's bowl and scratched the dog behind his ears affectionately as he came over into the kitchen. He leaned back against the counter and watched the dog eat, something so familiar and yet it disheartened him that Harry wasn't there to watch it. Something so menial was trivial to him now, but for Harry to be there and watching with him -it would have made all the difference.

With another sigh, he forced himself across their flat to the bedroom and set about prying his clothes from his chilled body. He tossed everything into the wash-bin, trying not to let his mind wonder to Harry and the small quips he'd usually say. The flat was eerie and silent as he shuffled about changing into his pyjamas and a warm dressing gown.

An hour later he found himself curled up on the sofa, a throw blanket over his waist and Seeker curled up on top of his feet at the other end of the sofa. The TV was playing some mindless comedic nonsense in the background. He had his laptop open on his legs with the word document open, the cursor blinking away.

He wanted to write but he couldn't.

Hermione's words of discouragement kept ringing through his ears every time he hovered his fingers over the keyboard.

"There's no point in you writing this book, Draco!" she'd admonished one day over coffee, "No publishers will pick it up and on top of that most people will think you've made it all up."

He shook his head and scowled at himself for letting her words get to him. It had been a long, rough day that was all. The nurse's had gotten under his nose and the new Healer appointed to Harry's ward was a moron if ever there was one. It was a wonder he'd even passed his exams. How could someone so stupid be in charge of other people's lives?

Biting his bottom lip he flexed his shoulders and scrolled through the pages he'd already written. There were a few highlighted segments that he knew he needed to revise, but he couldn't be bothered with any of that until he'd at least gotten half of what he wanted to say written down. His throat felt thick as an image of Harry flashed through his mind.

He cringed.

He hated how his lover had looked, so weak and pale lying almost motionless in the hospital bed in a magically induced coma. His features had looked gaunt and the shadows under his eyes had looked like bruises. It had irked him. He wanted to bring the homely amenities to the bed but knew he'd be thrown out if he even tried. Those nurses were just itching for a reason to throw him out.

Hermione hadn't been to see Harry in over a week. She claimed it was too distressing for her. He could understand and even sympathize to an extent, but even so they had been friend since they were eleven. Surely she could get over herself to go and see him? If he could find it in his heart to selflessly put up with the nonsense from the hospital staff as well as the constant articles speculating about Harry's heath in the newspapers, then she could certainly spare an afternoon or two a week.

Even Ron had managed to go and see Harry, even if he had only stayed for an hour. It still showed that he cared.

Tipping his head back to lean on the back of the sofa he swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. Ever since their impromptu get-away to Blackpool, Harry's condition hadn't improved. It hadn't deteriorated but the Healer's refused to let him read too much into that. Suffice to say, Harry was stable he was merely hovering just below the neutral setting.

Draco had taken it upon himself to get into a sort of routine with each visit. He'd make sure that Harry had been changed and bathed without the use of 'Scourgify', even if it meant washing his lover himself. There was literally nothing sexual about it; it was merely that he couldn't bear the thought of Harry lying in his own filth and sweat for longer than necessary. It made him physically sick to think how many times Harry would have wallowed in his own piss if it hadn't been for him.

Hermione still tried to insist that the nurse's knew what they were doing but Draco knew that their policy was that if Harry didn't know about it then there was no need to go to such lengths.

It was disgusting but what could he do?

He'd stayed longer than usual that afternoon. He hadn't left until the sky had started to turn dark. He'd read the current book he was reading for about an hour. When his voice had gotten a little hoarse, he'd spend another hour talking in hushed tones to Harry and holding his hand. He'd also changed Harry's little cotton skull cap with a replenishing warming charm. He didn't like the idea of Harry getting a head cold on top of everything else.

A throbbing ache started up in his chest and it suddenly hurt to breathe. He rubbed at his chest but couldn't ease it. He drew his dressing gown tighter around him and burrowed further down on the sofa.

He didn't want to go to bed. Alone.

Always alone. The time in Blackpool had felt like forever ago. The feeling of Harry's warm, skinny body pressed against his was almost a distant memory. He shivered and curled his legs underneath him for some extra warmth. True, he could always use some heating charms on the mattress but it just wasn't the same. Even sleeping with Seeker in the bed was losing its appeal.

All too soon the glare of the laptop got too much for his eyes.

He closed everything down and nudged Seeker with his foot to get him to hop off the sofa. They made their way over to the main bedroom, flicking his wand to turn the lights off as he went.

The mattress was cold and felt a little lumpy as he settled down onto it, patting the middle of the bed as he did so. Seeker leaped up and nestled down next to Draco's body, the sudden warmth making him shiver. Placing his wand on the night-stand, he reached for the silver photo frame. It was one of the few photos he'd manufactured from his pensieve. One of his precious memories from their trip to Blackpool. True, it wasn't the most flattering photo of Harry himself considering how ill he'd looked. He'd even been too ill to wear a glamour which had broken Draco's heart. With a sigh, he ran his thumb over the frame, his grey eyes prickling a little as the overwhelming loneliness swarmed in his chest.

His mind absently wondered to the other photo frame on the nightstand; it was a photo of him and Harry on a muggle yacht when they were only eighteen years old. It had been after the war, after Draco had eventually graduated from Hogwarts and after the hype of Voldemort's death and dwindled a little. Not enough for Death Eater's to not get harassed as Draco had found out, but it had been enough for some civility to develop between Harry and the Slytherin's.

Draco couldn't help but huff a laugh. It was such a strange memory, how they had come to take that 'gap year' together, as Harry had called it. He hadn't understood it, but the chance to run away from most things for a year and just have fun? It had been such a foreign concept -and he'd been in such a low place -that he'd jumped at the chance.

Not that anyone had approved, least of all Hermione, Ron and the Weaslette. Not that it had stopped Harry and him going on the trip.

Running a hand down his face he sighed and replaced the photo frame's on the nightstand before burrowing down under the blankets, Seeker shifting closer to him as he did so. As he drifted off to sleep his thoughts kept running back around to that gap year and how it had come to be. He couldn't ignore it. Perhaps if he'd told the story of how that happened, people would understand him -maybe even understand them.

It was a shot in the dark but he had to try.

A short little prologue to draw you in. Bee x