19 Years (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 50: The First Cut is the Deepest

It had taken an embarrassingly long time for him to remember the map. But when he'd seen Draco's name, still atop the astronomy tower, but flickering in a way he'd never seen before...

He'd realized. It didn't matter, what Draco had done. Harry loved him.

He'd rushed back there as fast as he could, skidded to a halt and clapped his hand over his mouth. Because there was Draco - crumpled on the tower stones, covered in a thin dusting of snow, hand out-flung toward the blood-red rose and potion bottle with one glistening drop still clinging to the rim.

And for a moment he'd stood rooted to the spot.

Because they'd only just finished working on that damn suicide scene for the play. And at first he'd thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

But then he'd realized that, no. It was real.

He'd snatched the bottle and rose, grabbed Draco's shoulder, and apparated straight to the hospital wing, anti-apparition wards be damned.

Bones had started scolding him about dragon pox and the meaning of 'quarantine,' but he'd ignored her, shouting for Madam Pomfrey. She'd come bustling over, dispatched Bones back to her third-years, and enlisted Harry's help as she'd worked tirelessly to rescue Draco.

Draco whimpered again in his sleep, and Harry stroked his hair, leaned down to whisper soothing nothings in his ear.

He was never letting him go again.

---

March, 2018

After a few weeks, Madam Pomfrey started hinting that it was time to think about moving back to their rooms.

After a few more, she kicked them out with strict orders to stay out for the rest of the year. Harry might have been worried, if he hadn't seen the smile she'd been hiding escape as she turned away.

They didn't quite know what to do with themselves, and all too soon were faced with the terrifying prospect of parting ways.

But, it wasn't all that bad, really. Draco knocked on his door within the hour, asking if he wanted to maybe go for a walk outside, "since you're the self-appointed guardian of my welfare, Potter, you'd damned well better guard it."

Harry hid a smile and accompanied him outside.

They fell into a routine, soon enough, and eased back into teaching.

Things were the same as they had been, and at the same time completely foreign.

—

Harry showed up at Draco's door one evening in mid-March with a picnic basket slung over one arm.

"What's this?" Draco asked, confused, when he opened the door.

"Surprise," Harry answered. "Come on."

"What if I have plans?"

"You don't." Some of the confidence bled out of him. "Do you?"

Draco snorted. "No. Fine. Just - one second." He reached around the door and grabbed his scarf - green cashmere, of course - wrapping it firmly around his neck. "All right, I'm ready. Where are we going?"

"Surprise," Harry answered smugly.

Draco sighed. "I'm not sure I like surprises."

Harry grinned. "You'll like this one. Come on."

Draco went.

Harry led him, bouncing like a puppy, down to the lake and then around to the far side, where a large rock jutted out into the water.