Title: Feeling Different

Author: Emily Waters

Ship: Severus/Harry/Draco

Warnings: M/M/M, established relationship, angst, humor.

Summary: Severus/Harry/Draco are together in an established relationship. But each of them... feels different in his own way.

~ * ~

Harry:

My eyes are shut. There's the sound of quiet breathing, and the familiar tangle of limbs and blankets, and the familiar, pleasant lassitude of the Saturday morning. Severus' head rests on my right shoulder, and I press my lips to the crown of his head. To my left, Draco is sleeping, curled into himself. His back brushes against my elbow. I stroke his spine with my palm, and he sighs contentedly in his sleep.

Moments like this make me believe against all reason that I really belong here, with the two of them. That somehow, our lives are fused into one, that the three hearts beat as one. Irrational, I know. Most days, I suspect that I don't really belong with the two of them. The two of them have so much in common that I have a dreadful feeling I don't fit in.

They make jokes about Potions.

They play chess.

They design spells together, not as a project – but for the fun of it, easily and effortlessly, like it's all some sort of game.

But more to the point, they approach life differently. Everything is about cunning, scheming, plotting. Politics, career, social engagements, even sex. I can't do that. Just can't. I'm direct, blunt, subtle as sledgehammer. They look at each other knowingly and smirk, whenever I do something utterly and hopelessly Gryffindor. Which is all the time...

I don't know what madness possessed me to believe that a Gryffindor and two Slytherins could actually form a viable polyamorous household. Even the sweet, ever-supportive Hermione said it'd be, how did she put it? Challenging. Well, yes, it's challenging – but... mornings like this make it worthwhile. Because now, we're just lying together, and it doesn't matter that this isn't forever, that sooner or later, I'll manage to frustrate them, and ruin everything, and end up alone again.

I shut my eyes and forget that I don't belong. Mornings like this make it easy.

Severus:

My head rests on Harry's shoulder, and I can hear his heartbeat. Even without opening my eyes, I know what his left hand is doing while his right arm encircles me, drawing me into a relaxed embrace. I know that he's stroking Draco's back, even now. I imagine his thoughts are on Draco.

There's no resentment there. There's only surprise that the three of us have lasted as long as we did together. This really is very odd.... well, let me qualify that. Draco and Harry being together isn't odd at all. They are well-matched. They are peers. They have so much in common.

They listen to the same music. God help me, they once tried introducing me that horrible noise – I instantly assumed that it was coming out of a cursed object of some sort, and stabbed the docked iPod with a spare Basilisk tooth before anyone could react. They still tease me about it. Not maliciously, no. Childishly and impishly. And I think that seven years ago, I would have put them both in detention for such cheek. And that makes me feel positively old.

They have the same circle of friends. Young friends. They try to include me – but, I feel too out of place, too awkward. I make my escape whenever I can.

There's Quidditch. You should see them on the brooms. Brilliant, daring, fast. And young. They are young, I'm not, and that's the crux.

I suppose it's only a matter of time before the two of them decide it's time to quit experimenting, and choose to settle into a comfortable, secure, exclusive relationship (with each other); and it will make sense, it will be logical, rational, healthy, and normal – and I also know that it'll hurt like bloody hell to watch them move on.

But no matter. Yes, one day I'll be left behind, but today, is not that day. Today, Harry's lips are pressed to the top of my head. Today, I can hear his heartbeat. Today, Draco is near, his legs entwined with ours.

Today is all that matters.

Draco:

I lie on my side, with my back turned to the two of them. Yes, I'm making a statement.

The two sexy halfbloods look entirely too cozy together, to the point where I can't help but feel slightly excluded. Oh yes – I sneak a quick look at Sev – resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry's petting his back. Whatever.

Let them cuddle. I'm not much for cuddling, anyway. I'm not some attention-starved orphan or something. I wasn't abused as a child, thank you very much – a quick hug now and then, preferably during a funeral (an enemy's funeral) is all that's required to keep me happy. Though enemies' funerals also work well as a standalone feature – without the hugs.

We buried Goyle-senior last week. He died peacefully in Azkaban. And Gregory wept on Harry's shoulder, then on Sev's, begging the forgiveness of the two war heroes for his father's war crimes, and thanking them, over and over again, for not demanding the Dementor's Kiss. The two forgiving idiots were nodding to him, and offering epiphanies in soothing voices. God, how I love them for that.

We really are meant to be together. All three of us. We work together, you know? Our lives, past and present, are entwined, entangled, just like the mess of blankets and naked limbs in this bed.

I lift myself on my elbow, turn around and look at the two of them. They really do look perfect together. They're so close – two raven-haired heads that look almost identical from this angle. A perfect fit, they look like they really do belong with each other – more than either of them, with me. I sigh. I try not to dwell on this sort of thing, but sometimes, it's hard not to feel different, being the only blonde and all.

~ fin