Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

Momentum

"Hey." Harry murmured, brushing his knuckles along Draco's jaw, marveling at its smoothness, so different from his own stubbled skin.

Draco smiled, leaning into Harry's touch. He looked so beautiful; pale hair glowing like a halo in the soft light of early morning; seemingly endless expanse of alabaster skin as translucent as gossamer peppered with bites and bruises from the previous night's bouts of passionate lovemaking; and those eyes, captivating in their ever-changing hues, clear yet seemingly unfathomable. Draco was an oxymoron, all delicate lines and sharp angles, vulnerable yet guarded.

Draco was simply breathtaking.

And Harry knew at that moment just how royally fucked he was. There was no longer any doubt in his mind.

He loved Draco.

More than he thought he was ever capable of. It was overwhelming, seemingly far too much for him to contain. Harry felt it so much that it physically hurt. It was as if his ribcage was too small for the contents of his chest.

Harry struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. "Draco---" He began but was cut off by a sharp shake of Draco's head.

"Don't..." Draco whispered, closing his eyes. "Don't say anything. Just..." He sighed, lowering his head onto Harry's chest. "Just hold me, Harry."

"All right." Harry replied hoarsely, pulling Draco closer, pressing a kiss onto his soft blond hair.

Harry held him, listening to the latter's breathing as it slowed and evened out. Harry's eyes fluttered close, throat tight, chest aching, blood pounding viciously in his ears. Panic, crippling in its intensity, swept through him like a tidal wave, leaving him floundering aimlessly. He'd never felt so helpless, and that was saying a lot.

* * *

"An interview?" Luna mused in her usual dreamy tone, eyeing Harry through her astoundingly pink monocle.

"Yeah." Harry nodded, shoving his hands into his jeans' pockets and threw Hermione a nervous glance.

Hermione gave him a reassuring smile. Harry's eyes slid over to Ron, who nodded firmly in turn. Warmth swelled in Harry's chest at the fact that his best friends would always have his back, no matter what. They had defeated Voldemort, an unhinged, murderous Dark Wizard, whose favorite past time was hurling Avada Kedavra at Harry. Quelling a public outcry, screaming for his boyfriend's blood should be easy enough to manage, right?

Harry paused; a bemused look flitting across his face. Boyfriend. He chuckled under his breath. He liked the sound of that. Loved it even. Although they never really admitted anything past 'I want this with you' or gave a label to their relationship, Harry knew what it was that he really wanted.

Harry carded a hand through his messy hair and sighed. Their plans to have Rita Skeeter recant her damaging article fell through when Hermione found out that the reason the vile reporter had been bold enough to publish it in the first place was because she was no longer an unregistered Animagus. It was a severe blow and they had to rethink their options.

Pansy and Blaise had been rather impressed of the very Slytherin approach of their initial plan. It was also the two Snakes who had suggested that they fight fire with fire instead. Since cunning and blackmail didn't work, why not take courage and face the music? How recklessly Gryffindor of them. The Golden Trio had been thoroughly amused. Perhaps they'd been spending far too much time in each other's company that they'd begun to pick up one another's traits.