Drarry - The Boggart

FORTY TWO

Harry was sure to carefully land on the sidewalk and not crash, as he had in the past. That was never pretty. They were on one of the smaller streets of London. He lead Draco around the corner to a familiar lane, holding his hand with their fingers intertwined, his other hands dragging his broom along. 

"Harry, this is Grimmauld Place" Draco noted.

"I know," Harry responded plainly, not wanting to give anything away about where they were really going.

"We've been here before" The blonde stated. 

"I know" Harry repeated. Draco just went along with it, knowing by now that Harry probably had a plan. Which was correct, he did. 

"Wait out here" Harry said, adding "I'll just be quick, I have to get something inside." He turned to walk inside and felt Draco's arm on his shoulder, pulling him back swiftly, but gently. Then he kissed him. Harry could feel the smile on Draco's lips, like he couldn't help it. Harry realized that he was probably the same. Draco held him with a hand between his shoulder blades, so that they were as close as possible.

"I love you." He said when they broke apart. His eyes were still closed, a smile playing on his lips just as Harry had predicted.

"I love you too" It wasn't a rushed 'I love you, I love too' when you have to leave to catch the train or go to work. It was full of love and promise. And Harry could tell all their 'I love you''s in the future would be the same. He couldn't imagine saying the words to Draco and not whole heartedly meaning it with every fiber of his being. He never wanted to separate from Draco, but he gave him a quick peck on the lips then headed into Grimmauld Place.

Harry realized when he closed the door behind him that there had been some kids kicking a football around down the street, and he and Draco hadn't hesitated to kiss in front of them. It wasn't like they were right in their faces or anything, but they were in their presence.

He smiled, realizing that they were slowly getting used to being mostly out. It was a small thing, but not to Harry. To him it was like finally reaching home after a long road trip. Or landing your broomstick after a particularly long flight. To Harry, it was like peace, at once.

He smiled and then raced up the stairs, where he had the camera that he always took to the place. The place he wanted to share with Draco.

He wasn't much of a photographer, but this place was so perfect that he always tried to capture its beauty, its mood, in a picture so that I he could look back on his relaxed afternoons there, when nothing bothered him. He'd go with Ron and Hermione all the time and they'd mess around and take pictures and swim in the creek and be teenagers for once. His camera could never quite catch the exact allure of the place, but he always brought in with him just in case he could finally get a shot that proved worthy to its setting.

Before dashing down the stairs to get back to his boyfriend, he peeked out the window. Draco stood there, casually leaning against a lamppost, holding Harry's broom. He looked beautiful. Harry had always known Draco looked perfect, even when he hated him back in first year. Even then, even before he knew that he liked boys, he saw perfection in Malfoy's looks. Eyes, hair, smile, and fair skin combined, he looked like a marble statue.

But back then what he saw was perfection, when now he saw beauty. Now he knew that Draco was not perfect, that he never was. He knew what his mercury eyes had seen, what scars lied under that pale skin. Now Draco was so much more than perfect to him. Now he was beautiful. He was brave. He was strong. He was surviving. He loved that. Not perfection, he had never loved how he looked when he thought he looked perfect. But now he loved every bit of him.