Moments

44. Moment of Crisis (pt.2.)

(1001 words)

'Potter?' Malfoy said quietly.

Oh gods... Harry couldn't do this, he bent over double, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to fight off the rising panic. How was he supposed to face Malfoy after this? Apart from the unexpected epiphany that he was in-fucking-love with one of his bestfriends; there was the sudden comprehension about his own sexuality, that he was gay. Or was he? Was he simply in love with Malfoy and gender wasn't relevant...

Either way, he thought his realisation must be bloody obvious and that was both awkward and embarrassing.

He seemed to be making funny wheezy noises as he inhaled.

He felt Malfoy's hand rest comfortingly on the small of his back, his thumb rubbing gently through his shirt.

Shit! How was he supposed to act around him now? What was he supposed to do?'

'Mione...' he rasped. She'd know. She knew everything.

Malfoy sighed and said 'no' quietly. 'You're going to talk to me.'

'I-I can't...' he stammered.

'I know what you're going through.'

'You do?' Harry felt a little twinge of hopefulness.

'Yes, gay friend, remember, I came out to you years ago, in the snow at Hogwarts, remember?'

'Yes,' Harry tried not to sound disappointed.

'Look at me.'

'I-I can't...' he stammered again.

'Why not?'

In case you see, he thought. But he remained silent and looking at the floor.

'It's nothing to be ashamed of, Potter.'

'I'm not ashamed.'

'Then look at me.'

'I can't,' Harry said miserably.

He felt Malfoy take his hand away and wanted to scream at him to put it back. But Malfoy came and leant against the wall next to him, one leg casually bent so his foot was against the wall.

'I bought you present in France,' Malfoy said.

There was a long silence between them, filled by sounds of the table being cleared inside and the birds in the trees. Harry didn't know what to say but he straightened up and leant against the wall next to Malfoy, purposely not looking at him.

Malfoy didn't say anything.

'Well?' Harry said.

'Well what?'

'What did you bring back from France?'

'Hmmm, I think I'll make you wait.'

'Why, Malfoy?'

'Don't you think, Harry, it's time we started to call each other by our first names?'

'I-I...'

'...especially if I kiss you, which I know you want me to do.'

'I do?' Oh gods, he must be fucking beet red...

'Harry, you wear your heart on your sleeve, you've always been so readable. Your moment of crisis in there was ridiculously endearing.'

'But... you don't mind?' He looked at his feet, feeling so awkward he thought scientists could probably create a Richter-scale-type spectrum from him. He was probably currently reading about 8.7 magnitude on the awkwardness scale, definitely bypassing the 'Disruption' and 'Disaster' categories and straight into 'Catastrophe'.

He watched Malfoy's feet as he pushed off the wall and come to stand in front of him. Too close! Harry's breath faltered in fright and he refused to look up, scared of what he might encounter.

'I've been waiting for you, Harry.'

'Malfoy?'

'Trying saying it for once...'

'What?'

'My name...'

'Draco...' he whispered.

'Better!' And Harry could hear the amusement in his voice.

Malfoy edged closer so his feet were on either side of Harry's and Harry's bowed head was practically resting on Malfoy's shoulder. Harry's vision was filled by soft dark grey material; a t-shirt that Harry had bought for him on a whim earlier in the year. It fitted Malfoy rather snuggly, accentuating his slender torso and the muscles he'd gained during Auror training. It was the same colour as his eyes. Malfoy placed his hands upon Harry's waist, just above his belt. It was exactly as Harry had imagined it when he was sitting at the table.

He groaned.

Malfoy dipped his head and shoulders to one-side to try and catch Harry's eye. When Harry turned his head away slightly, Malfoy let go of his waist and caught his chin, pulling Harry's head up. 'Look at me, Harry. Where's that fucking Gryffindor in you disappeared to, because I can't do this while you're being all full of self-pity and not seeing what's right in front of you.'

'I've not seen what's been right in front of me since first year, Draco,' he said miserably. But he looked into those grey eyes which were watching him intensely.

Draco smiled, it was a little lopsided quirk of a smile which made the grey in his eyes soften and made Harry's insides melt a little. 'I know. That's why I've been waiting for you. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't realise I liked you, not properly, until last year. But it was when you were holding little Esther in the hospital, holding her with all that protectiveness and gentleness and Potterness that only you possess, that's when I knew for certain that I was hopelessly in love with you.'

'You are?' Harry's breath hitched.

'Yes,' Draco said quietly.

Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. He admitted in an embarrassed whisper. 'I didn't know how to cope with the realisation I'm in love with you; I thought it was just me.'

Draco leant forward and kissed him. It was tentative, soft, tender, and when he went to pull away, Harry cupped his face to stop him. 'No!' he huffed and he drew Draco back towards him, kissing him forcefully, pulling on his lower lip and swiping it with his tongue to deepen the kiss, to taste the one he'd been in love with for so long without realising.

When they finally broke apart, Harry smiled. Relief washing through him. This was going to be okay. They could work this out.

He caught a movement in the corner of his eye.

'Afteeeernoon,' George smirked, baby Hector on his hip, as he leant against Arthur's workshop opposite them and took a slurp from his mug.

*****