Together, We Can Soar (A Drarry FanFiction/"Falling" 2 of 3)

Chapter One

   Harry was starting to appreciate the deep satisfaction that came from small victories.

It gave him a thrill to know he was making progress, to chart his success like he would a herbology assignment, watching a delicate plant thrive and grow in the sunlight. Except his project was a great deal more satisfying than any plant.

He was currently very much appreciating the fact that once again, he had woken up next to Draco in his bed. It had been over three weeks, and almost every night Draco had allowed him to bring him to his room, each time getting just the smallest amount more comfortable, the tension in his shoulders slipping away by millimetres, the tentative smiles coming with incrementally more ease by the day.

It was early and they were still coiled together, a happy mess of sleepy limbs as weak dawn sunshine filtered through the curtains. Harry was tracing patterns with feather light touches on Draco's back through his t-shirt, wondering if the elation that came with being able to touch Draco at all would ever wear off.

His back was easy territory. Draco liked being stroked there; firmly across his shoulders, gently down his spine. Harry loved resting the flat of his palm against his hips, squeezing the flesh there possessively. Draco normally protested when he did that, wriggling and batting him away, but the shy grin that would creep onto his lips made Harry think he actually quite loved it too.

"Hello," a sleepy mumble came from the other pillow, and Harry trailed his hand up to caress Draco's neck and card his fingers through his hair. It was always soft, even in the mornings.

"Hello," he said with a warm smile as Draco turned to rub his eyes and look at him. "Sleep well?"

He nodded. That was another of their small victories, Harry had decided. They'd discovered since sharing a bed, neither of them had had half as many nightmares as they usually did, and when either of them were afflicted, the other was there to comfort and sooth immediately. Harry couldn't remember feeling this refreshed in years.

"What day is it?" Draco asked.

"Thursday," Harry told him, his fingers still lingering in his hair. "Which means it's three weeks, since, um..." Sometimes he worried so much about not wanting to say the wrong thing, his bloody words got lost in his throat. Draco smiled kindly at him though.

"It's our three week anniversary," he said, and Harry's heart fluttered. He so desperately wanted this arrangement that he and Draco had to be official, but he was absolutely determined to be patient. He'd managed to stumble through enough tricky conversations thus far though, and he'd worked out the best way was generally opening the door to see if Draco was able to walk through it.

Calling it an anniversary felt strongly like taking a step towards something more official, more permanent, and Harry beamed happily as he pulled Draco flush against his body, so proud he'd felt able to use the term himself. "Happy anniversary," he whispered, rubbing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss.

He could feel their morning wood pressed naturally against one another where they had entwined, but he used all his will power not to grind into it. He and Draco hadn't done anything like that so far, and he wouldn't do anything until Draco wanted to. He wasn't even sure what to do, it was a bit trickier with another guy. He and Ron had talked drunkenly about sex a few times, curious to know what the other did, but Ron with all his older brothers (and now girlfriend) had always had the upper hand.

He'd been able to surreptitiously glean a bit of info from Seamus last week though, when they'd gone down to Hogsmeade for an evening. He and Dean were still in their honeymoon period, and it had been easy enough to get him to confess a few things about their sex life without arousing too much suspicion. Harry had been so grateful he'd insisted on paying for their drinks all evening, confident he could have a go at some of the things Seamus had described, but it was a little different in person. Especially when that person was particularly skittish when it came to their body.

Not that Harry was complaining. After their first night together, he'd made a little ritual out of undressing Draco before they got into bed, and most nights Draco reciprocated the favour, an act in itself wonderfully intimate and sexual. And once they were in boxers and t-shirts, Harry was allowed to touch almost anywhere without hesitation. Draco had allowed him to map the curve of his arms, where firm muscle and soft flesh met elbows and wrists. He was allowed to kiss the taboo tattoo and let his fingers glide through his hair. He'd even been allowed to mark his clavicles with little love bites, something Harry had never thought of before, but now it made him almost crazy to see those small pink welts, a secret to everyone but them, always defining Draco as his. When they were in lessons, if they weren't sat together, Draco would find a chance to catch his eye at least once and touch his fingers to his collar bone, hidden by his clothes, showing Harry they both knew they were there.

Harry loved those secret little moments between them. For now, it made not being able to come out to the school that they were together okay, it made it manageable.

That and the kissing. The kissing was pretty damn awesome too.

There was one area though that still always had to be negotiated for touching, and sadly it was Harry's favourite. Draco was still stubbornly ashamed of his stomach, and would need to be coaxed into letting Harry do anything with it. But after some their now well-practiced kissing and murmured words of tenderness, Harry could normally achieve another of his tiny victories and slide his hands over that lovely swell.

Always through Draco's t-shirt of course, they hadn't been able to take that off yet (Harry could tell without needing to ask), however it seemed enough for now that he could touch that part of him at all. The furthest he'd got had been when they'd been undressing a few nights ago, and Harry had sat on the bed whilst Draco stood. He'd risked a quick kiss through the fabric, just by Draco's belly button, but it hadn't been entirely intentional, and he'd immediately looked up to see if Draco would retreat from him. He'd stayed where he was though, hands still on Harry's shoulders, and given an adorable little laugh, almost like a giggle.

Small victories sometimes felt enormous.