Summary
*Wounds are hard to heal and tragedies impossible to forget. But if you have the right kind of help, maybe it's not that big of a deal to just look forward.*
The first few years after the war were hard. People struggled so desperately to pick up the pieces, that they often failed to realise they were putting them in all the wrong places. Draco Malfoy was one of those people.
He had managed to find a job at St. Mungo's almost immediately, refusing to rely on his family's wages and decided to strip himself of everything the Malfoy name represented. He had been given a second chance and he was going to make the most of it. Also, work, his work especially, meant thinking. And a lot of it. And none of it about the war. Which was good, in the most unhealthy way possible.
At first, his job consisted mostly of brewing simple enough potions and, no matter how people frowned at his forearm as though it was the most offending thing in the world, no one could deny there was no one better at his job than him.
Of course the interminable hours he spent on his work did not quite do the job in distracting him from all the dark thoughts lingering in the back of his mind, so he read. He read every book he could get his hands on, just to keep his dark thoughts at bay. That's how he stumbled over muggle medicine books. He had heard somewhere they were difficult. And that was just what he needed. Stuff to think about that wasn't war.
And then this thing called psychology caught his attention. It was basically mind healing, but not quite. He found it fascinating. And he became so absorbed in what muggles made of the human mind that he reached a point where he thought therapy sessions were a brilliant idea.
The first piece in the right place.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
Draco tapped his finger on his knee, counting the seconds as he looked around the small circle of chairs. He wore a calm expression and stood straight in his chair in the most professional manner there was, just like he had learned in his mind healing courses. Pulling out a very old, very fancy pocket watch, he checked the time.
Not long now.
Sure enough, after merely a few minutes, the door opened and in walked a small group of people. 11, to be precise.
There was a collective gasp when they recognised the former death eater that they were about to open their souls to. Draco, of course, knew better than to put his own name down on the guiding mind healer spot in the announcement for the sessions. It wasn't a secret that nobody would have wanted to have anything to do with Draco sodding Malfoy after the war. So, obviously, not one person that walked in knew who they were actually going to find waiting for them.
A few seconds passed in absolute silence in which Draco waited patiently. When people started coming to their senses, there were different emotions written on their faces. Four of them simply turned around and left, without a word. Draco did not react. He wasn't surprised. If anything, he was rather expecting all of them to leave.
"Please, take a seat", he gestured for the others when no one moved for a good while.
There was another guy that shook his head and left as the rest of the group slowly and silently sat down.
"I have no doubt that you all know who I am", Draco started, voice even and eyes soft.
Before he could continue, however, the door opened once again and in walked none other than Harry Potter, panting and flustered, mumbling a soft apology for being late.
Draco stared, expecting Potter to just start shouting at him, maybe even punch him. He expected the git to throw a tantrum and leave just like the other five, only much less silently. Harry did none of those things. Instead, he asked if he could sit. One piece in the right place for him as well.
Draco was left speechless for a few moments. Why, why was it that when he finally felt like he could get the hang of everything, the most troublesome human being just decided to waltz back into his life without a second thought? He was supposed to listen to these people. He was supposed to weigh their problems and pains on his shoulders. How was he supposed to do that with Harry Potter himself? Harry Potter whom he hated for a long time. Harry Potter who saved his life. Harry Potter who spoke up at his trial even though he had absolutely no reason to. Harry Potter who was the reason he was now where he was.
Potter watched him intently, which was probably the only reason Draco managed to come to his senses and gesture for the brunet to take a seat.
Harry sat down on the chair opposite to Malfoy and with that, the session began. He did not talk much, choosing to instead listen to what the others had to say. They all talked the same. It was always the same. It was like people felt like they had to feel depressed after such a war and they picked up this stereotype and repeated it endlessly. It felt as though they were just happy it was over, but guilty for not suffering. Which was stupid. And what bothered Harry most was that Malfoy seemed to do the same.
For the past four years since the war ended, Hermione had been pestering him to see a mind healer, claiming it would help. Harry doubted they could do more than give him a Dreamless Sleep. He gave in, however, when he realized how distressed his friend actually was and decided to sign in for her sake more than his.
While it did come as a surprise to see Draco there of all people, he couldn't help but feel there was no one better fitted for the job and so he found he was deeply disappointed in the lack of sincerity in the blond's words. Fifteen minutes into the first session and he had his mind set to wait at the end for everyone to leave so he could talk to Malfoy. Really talk to him. From a human being to another.
But as soon as the meeting was over, he bolted to his feet like the chair burnt and headed straight for the door. He was the first one to walk out.
It was only at the end of the 6th session, which marked the end of the second week of therapy, that Harry finally had the courage not to stand up. So he remained seated, slightly bent over, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the ground. Everyone else had left the room, but Draco gave no sign he would do the same. He watched the raven haired man, waiting.
But Harry stayed quiet. Did he not know what to say or did he not know how to say it? Whichever it was, it mattered not.
"Is something the matter, Harry?" Draco asked after a while, his mask of professionalism not faltering. Potter was just another patient.
Harry flinched slightly, but said nothing. Instead, he abruptly stood up and left.
The next time he waited again until everyone else left and, just like before, he said nothing. For some reason, he enjoyed the silence, now that he wasn't alone.
After a while, Draco's even voice echoed around the room, just like the last time.
"Something the matter, Harry?"
Harry looked like he wanted to say something for a second, but he ended up shaking his head with a sigh before standing up and leaving once again.
The next meeting, Harry stayed again. And the meeting after. And the one after that. It took him a while before he found it in himself to actually speak.
"Everything alright, Harry?" came the question, as it always did.
But this time Harry didn't leave.
"Stop that", he croaked, voice trembling slightly.
Draco furrowed his brows as he muttered a confused what?.
"Stop talking to me like we don't even know each other. The others aren't here now!"
"I don't understand", Draco muttered. "Do you want me to go back to insulting you? Because I thought we were past that sort of childish behaviour", he then said, a glint of amusement in his eyes and despite himself, Harry couldn't help but smile slightly. The smile held no humour, however.
"No. I want you to act like a human being, not a robot programmed to only ask" - and here, Harry dropped his voice slightly, mocking the blond - "Is something the matter? and How did you feel in that situation?"
"And how else am I supposed to talk to people struggling with depression and anxiety?" Draco snorted. The idiot hadn't changed in the slightest. "Not that a brute like you would ever understand what it means to emotionally connect with someone who is in pain", he then added, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
Draco felt a little lighter, in a good way. Insulting Harry, no matter how horrible it may sound, was something he associated with simpler, happier times and he couldn't help but feel a bit better. Especially now that the usual venom in their voices was replaced with innocent, friendly sarcasm and the hatred in their eyes with mutual understanding.
Harry chuckled lightly in response but did not say anything else on the matter.
Silence fell between the two of them before the raven haired decided to break it again by asking hoarsely:
"What about you, then?"
"What about me?"
"You sit there thrice a week and listen to them vent about nothing and everything, about their friends and families and about the nightmares and haunting thoughts. But what about you?"
Draco frowned slightly.
"I talk as well. I have to trust you all first in order for you to-"
"Be able to open up, yeah I know", Harry gave him a humourless laugh. "But it's hollow. You tell us nothing I haven't heard. You tell us what you hear from us and from others. The desperation, the hopelessness, the brief relief when it was all over and the lingering silence after. It's like a poem. That's all you hear and all you tell."
Draco swallowed as he started to fumble with his robes. He did not want to have this conversation with Harry Potter of all people.
"But you can't expect me to straight up believe that's all to it. Not after what we've both been through."
Draco didn't dare say a thing.
"Malfoy, for god's sake help me understand!" Harry said when he was convinced he wouldn't get an answer.
"Understand what, exactly?" Malfoy snapped without really meaning to.
"Why you're doing all this. Why you're wasting your time on these stupid sessions!"
"It helps!"
"It would help if you actually opened up, which you clearly don't. So why?"
Draco did not answer straight away. Anger was boiling inside him. Of course Potter still thought he was up to something and couldn't keep his nose out of other people's business.
"If what I say are empty words, then that means you're not opening up either. So, I could ask you, why do you come here?"
"Now don't try to change the subject! You-"
"I'm not changing the subject", Malfoy quickly interrupted, somewhat irritated. "You ask me this kind of question and you're waiting for a sincere answer, which means you're ready to answer it yourself, are you not?"
A small muscle under Harry's eye twitched. Without a second's thought, he stood up and Apparated away, leaving Draco wondering wether he would ever come to the sessions again. He found himself wishing he would.
∆∆∆
Draco was surprised to see Harry walk in the next session as well, and even more surprised when he also didn't stand up and the end.
Silence fell between them again. Harry was obviously struggling with something. Draco didn't push, didn't ask a question this time.
And after a long while, Harry's voice filled the room:
"After the war I moved into an apartment by myself somewhere in muggle London. I go for supper at the Weasley's every Sunday and I have Teddy over every Friday and Saturday. Sometimes I go for tea at Andromeda's", he started timidly. He wanted to talk, to really talk, but he couldn't just yet. So he started off in a simpler way. And Draco understood, so he listened. Harry was immensely grateful for that.
"I'm currently in Auror training. I'm not sure if I like it that much, though."
There was a small pause in which Harry tried to control his leg from bouncing restlessly. It was quite a pitiful sight.
"Me and Ginny didn't work out, which is for the best, really. We ended things on great terms. She and Hermione keep dragging me out of the house. Sometimes to go for coffee, which is usually quite nice if I'm being honest. Other times we just to go for walks. Nobody talks then."
And another pause. It was like he was struggling to keep his emotions from spilling.
"Ron is over at my place almost constantly, which I'm grateful for, really. We always have a good time. But I love it most when Hermione's there too. It feels like we're back in school again. Before all the chaos and pain." Harry took in a shuddering breath. "Did you know they got engaged?" His smile was so broad Draco wondered how he managed it. "Just a few weeks ago." And now he chuckled lightly. "I actually cried."
And here he stopped abruptly. That was as far as he went that night and Draco acknowledged it with a nod.
Harry's gaze fell on the floor again. He wondered if staying any longer would mean pushing Malfoy into talking against his will. But Harry had talked, it was Draco's turn now. That was their unspoken agreement from last time.
Before he could dwell on the matter further, though, Draco started talking as well.
"I also moved away. I didn't want to stay in the mansion nor to depend on my family anymore. I got this job as soon as I possibly could. I guess I've been trying to keep my mind off things. Not a very healthy thing to do, I can see now." The faintest of smiles appeared on Draco's lips. "My mother has been trying to convince me to marry Astoria. I still visit pretty often, but I always leave when she brings the matter up."
He heaved a deep sigh before continuing.
"I've been trying to go out, but it's hard to enjoy myself with people whispering as I pass them. I guess society will never let me live down my choices during the war. Not that I was expecting anything else. I know it's what was coming."
Harry wanted to say something, though he himself didn't know what. Even though he agreed with him, he couldn't help but feel Draco didn't deserve what happened to him.
"I also got a cat. It's good company. Doesn't glare, doesn't whine, doesn't complain or judge your life choices. A most enjoyable companion."
Harry couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. That was all so Draco.
"I genuinely like my job, even though it keeps me quite busy. And I still enjoy reading in my very little free time, which is good, I guess. A little bit of hope left for me, isn't there?"
Harry, just like Draco did for him, acknowledged him with a nod. It felt comfortable, for some reason.
Then, without another word, they both stood up and left, walking side by side for a bit until they went their separate ways.
|•|•|•| |•|•|•|
For the next few weeks, they mainly talked about how their days went, maybe a little story about that bitchy old witch at the store and they were both surprised to realise not much later how comfortable they were around each other. They weren't exactly friends, but they got along better than they thought would ever be possible.
More pieces were falling into place.
"I've been feeling better lately", said Draco one evening, pushing a bit deeper. Harry understood at once they were going further and he conformed. This wasn't going to be just about what he had for lunch that day or what movie he was going to watch that night.
"I'm on better terms with my mother", the blond continued. "I sat her down and told her I was unhappy and that I didn't want to lead that kind of lifestyle anymore. Granted, she was a bit disappointed, but she accepted it. I suppose, after everything, she just doesn't want to pressure me into doing anything I don't want to."
Draco looked into Harry's eyes for a moment before looking down at his hands again.
"I sometimes wonder if she, or, for that matter, my father ever though that maybe I didn't feel at large in my own home. Everything was so uptight. Be careful how you talk. Be careful which spoon you use. Be careful to always have your shirt perfectly tucked in. It was all so frustrating. And it is most infuriating that they managed to make me believe that kind of behaviour was a privilege. Pure blood", he spat in disgust and didn't seem to want to continue.
Harry watched him intently for a few seconds and, when he was sure Draco didn't want to say anything else, he talked as well.
And it went on like this for months and months to go. With every passing week, they grew closer and closer.
The first time they hung out outside therapy was when they bumped into each other on the street. Harry had suggested they grabbed a coffee and Draco wondered why he was so happy about such a simple thing. They were pleasantly surprised to find that conversation came so easily. They talked about nothing and everything all at once. Not long after, Harry found himself staring at Malfoy who was walking around his kitchen, making dinner, wondering when the fuck did this happen? and his heart rate sped up when he thought he liked it quite a lot. When Harry picked on a waitress for constantly scowling at Draco, the blond wondered with a skip of his heart how in the hell had they come such a long way, and he just couldn't hide the grin that spread on his face.
When they first started talking about the war, after almost nine months since therapy started, Harry hesitantly asked if they could go outside. He felt like the walls of the once welcoming room were closing in on him. They made their way to the park across the street and that's where they led their private sessions from then on. And every week, they walked a bit closer to each other.
The group itself started dissolving shorty after. It was to be expected, really. As it turned out, Draco and Harry could only help each other.
As time passed, Ron and Hermione kept asking Harry questions about Draco, since the two of them seemed to always be together. They met for breakfast at their favourite cafe, Draco was at Harry's for lunch almost every day and Harry was at Draco's every evening.
It could all have been considered normal until Harry started bringing Draco at the Weasley's on Sunday. The family warmed up to Draco eventually. It was mostly because Harry was so much happier lately and they knew Draco was the reason for it.
At first, Harry sometimes had to endure tentative questions about wether there was more between him and the blond, but now Hermione and Ron especially couldn't seem to stop the interrogation, which was not very comfortable for Harry who now couldn't seem to be able get the blond man out of his head for the life of him. And that without any outside help.
By this point, Draco was starting to think just how his mother would react if he told her he was gay.
Not more than a year and a half since they came together again, both Harry and Draco found it extremely hard to hide the fact that they were stupidly in love with each other and eternally oblivious, you can figure. They started driving everyone crazy.
Draco was now welcome at the Burrow like he was one of them, which, even though he would never admit, made him swell with warmth. Harry actually almost cried when Draco received a Christmas jumper from Mrs. Weasley. Draco almost did too, though, again, he would never admit it. And, just like it was for Harry the first time he went to the Weasley's, Draco found that the weirdest thing about that house was that it felt so warm. Of course, while it took him and Harry a while to warm up to each other (seven years of rivalry and verbal and even physical abuse coming from both sides aren't that easily forgettable, after all), the Weasleys seemed to never be able to forgive him during the first few weeks.
Harry had assured him that it wouldn't take them long, but Draco wasn't convinced.
"Took you long enough", he had muttered one evening as they were having dinner at Harry's.
"Took you long enough, too", the brunet had then pointed out. "It was a mutual thing about us. And, let's be fair, a few months compared to seven years? I'd say we got to trusting each other rather quickly."
That short talk still brought a smile to Draco's face every time he thought of it. Maybe it hadn't meant that much to Harry, but to him, trust came very hard and it honestly scared him a little to have opened up to Harry with such ease.
Now, there was really only one thing Harry didn't know about him and one thing Draco didn't know about Harry. But something that everyone else could fucking see as clear as day.
"This is getting out of hand", Mrs. Weasley complained one night after Harry and Draco left, bickering about dishes like an old married couple. "They don't even have the same address but it already feels like they live together. How can they not see it?"
Hermione nodded in agreement, heaving an annoyed sigh. Ron fidgeted on the spot, an uncomfortable look on his face.
"Will you two just let them be? Maybe they don't like each other after all." That was a plain, fat lie and Ron knew it.
"Oh, not this again!" Hermione moaned in exasperation as Molly looked between them, confused. "Why can't you just accept it? They make each other happy!" she pushed in annoyance.
"Draco has proven himself so many times in the past year and a half. Remember that time Ginny was sick and she didn't get better with all the potions? Remember Draco walking up and down muggle London in search for muggle medicine that got her better in the end? Remember when Harry had that really bad nightmare and Draco just up and Apparated at his flat and stayed up with him the whole night? Remember when Mr. Weasley arrived at St. Mungo's with an injury and no one would pay attention to it saying it was minor so Draco shouted around the whole hospital until he got him the best room and treatment. Remember how we all get free treatment and potions just because Draco works there and they can't afford to lose him? Everyone here likes him, Ron. Why can't you?"
"It's not about that!" Ron angrily bit back. "But Harry's been obsessing over him in a way or another ever since school and you just know that he doesn't attach easily, but once he does, it's the real fucking deal. And I just can't stop thinking Malfoy won't be able to handle him or would just get over him and you know it will crush Harry!"
Hermione and Molly sighed simultaneously and exchanged desperate looks.
"Ron, I get that you're worried about Harry. We all are! But did it ever, even for one second look to you that Draco would ever get tired of Harry?"
And Ron could do nothing else but fall silent at this, knowing that, indeed, the way the blond looked at Harry wasn't something of this world.
|√| |√| |√| |√| |√| |√|
Draco woke up with a sudden jolt and looked around his living room, taking in the mug of hot chocolate now gone cold and the TV still going, before he registered the constant and very annoying, mind you, pounding in the door. He looked at the clock on the wall and frowned when he saw it was a little past midnight. Harry was the only one to ever pay him such late visits on nights he came back from particularly exhausting auror missions, but that couldn't be it. Harry was out for drinks with Ron and Seamus. So then, who in the world could it be?
Now quite infuriated with the noise, he got up and untangled himself from the blanket and made his way to the front door, which he swung open rather brutally, only to find himself with an armful of one Harry Potter, in only his t-shirt and reeking of alcohol. Draco closed the door quickly so the splitting cold wind wouldn't get inside and tried to steady Harry on his own two legs, wrapping him in the blanket he carried with him to the door unconsciously.
Harry shivered at the sudden warmth and blinked owlishly at Draco for a few good seconds before a lazy smile stretched his lips.
"Oh, hey Draco", he said, leaning against the blond still, thing that did unhealthy things to Draco's heart.
"Hey Draco?" he admonished, trying to keep his tone irritated. "You wake me up in the middle of the night to say hi?"
Harry, in his drunken haze, failed to notice the badly concealed amusement in his friend's voice and frowned, blinking back tears.
"Are you mad at me now?" he asked, words slurred, and Draco was taken aback at the sudden display. Harry was nothing more than a five year old when drunk, apparently.
"No, I'm not mad at you, idiot," he sighed, wishing he could kiss the pout on the brunet's face away. "Come on", he said instead, "Let's put you to bed."
But Harry was half asleep already and only managed to mumble a string of incoherent words, causing Draco to shake his head fondly. He carried the man to his room and laid him on his side at the right end of the bed in case he started puking, then placed a bucket within reach and a conjured glass of water on the nightstand.
When he finally allowed himself to look at Harry, he did a double take at the look in his eyes. Raw and vulnerable and sincere even between half closed eyelids.
"Um, good night, Harry", he said and tried to back out of the room before he did anything he would later regret. Harry had other plans, though.
He desperately reached out and grabbed the hem of Draco's jumper, looking up with puppy, pleading eyes, and really, Draco knew he would agree to anything even before Harry asked it of him.
"Where're you going?" he asked, words slurred and hard to decipher.
"Uh, I'm sleeping on the couch?"
"Why? 's enough space for us 'ere."
Draco wanted to jump the man right then and there but, once again, he showed great restraint.
"You'll kick me out of bed in the morning when you'll know what you're talking about", he said, resigned.
"Please, Draco~" And even though his speech ability was that of a three year old's and he smelled like all the bottles of firewhiskey he's ever drank together, Draco still found him attractive and fucking adorable and he was fucked, indeed. "I don't like sleeping alone. It's dark and scary and I feel like I'm in the cupboard again", Harry whined and Draco's heart clenched in his chest, finally understanding why Harry insisted that menace of a dog of his slept in his bed. Draco thought it was unhygienic and horrible to have your bedsheets covered in dog hair, but apparently hair was the last thing Harry worried about before going to sleep.
"Alright," he sighed and crawled in the bed, as far away from the man as possible. The distance he so carefully put between them was quickly closed by Harry who, with a determined huff slung his arms around the blond and brought them flush together.
Draco opened his mouth to protest, feeling his sanity and self control slip away with every second, but it remained hanging open at the words that left the brunet's mouth.
"I love you, Draco", he said and placed a sweet kiss on the nape of Draco's neck before peacefully drifting off to sleep. It was a long time before Draco managed to calm his racing heart down and fall asleep as well.
∆∆∆
Harry made a great effort to open his bleary eyes and was eternally grateful to find the blinds on the window closed, as last night's consequences kicked in. He lifted his hands and attempted to massage his head, but even that simple action seemed to drain him of power. He tried to remember what he did and why exactly he ended up getting as pissed as he did, but he could only recall flashes of the night. For some reason, he remembered Seamus climbing on the bar and yelling the lyrics to some song he didn't know, but then it all went blank again. He then remembered having another moment of sobriety, standing in the cold and cutting wind and pounding on a door, coat forgotten somewhere he didn't remember. And then flashes of white blond hair and grey eyes and a voice so soothing he still felt like melting and he remembered where he was.
He finally looked around and realized with a jolt of his heart that he was in Draco's bedroom. In Draco's bed. This could not be good. He was always known to have a big mouth, no doubt he said something he ought to regret, but really, the last thing he remembered was falling into the hallway. Now, there had to be even a teeny tiny chance he didn't say anything, the universe surely couldn't hate him that much.
He attempted to get up, but quickly decided against it as his head pounded. It was then that he spotted the small vial labeled hangover potion and the glass of water on the nightstand and he felt his heart grow thrice the size. He quickly downed the potion and drained the glass of water, feeling a bit better already, before standing up and walking out into the living room.
He was greeted by Ciss, the grey cat Draco insisted he despised but absolutely loved in secret, who was rubbing up his leg.
"Hey, you", Harry whispered fondly as he gave the cat an affectionate pet, before walking in the kitchen.
His breath promptly caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him. Draco, in nothing but pajama shorts and a very large jumper Harry recognised as his (he had left it there weeks prior and had completely forgotten about it) was making breakfast and singing along to a muggle song Harry knew would recognize, had he paid attention to anything other than the man before him. He was suddenly hit by the overwhelming need to wake up to this every morning, followed by a bucket of ice cold water called reality, in which him and Draco could never happen.
"Morning", he croaked, finally making his presence known.
Draco, visibly startled, jumped a little before turning around with a beaming smile, leaving Harry in fucking shambles.
"Good morning, sunshine. Feeling good today?" he asked mockingly, earning himself a half hearted glare. Harry could feel his insides stir with nausea.
"Stellar, actually", he replied drily, taking a seat at the table. "Oh god", he groaned. "What'd I even do last night?" he asked, heart rate speeding up in hopes he didn't say anything stupid.
"You don't remember?" Draco asked, and Harry could have sworn he heard a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Only waiting on the doorstep. I guess almost freezing my arse off sobered me up a little", he tried for a joke, though Draco only turned back to the pancakes he was making.
"What'll you be eating?" he asked, trying to pass as cheery, when really, he was just fucking angry with himself.
He had woken up in Harry's arms that morning and with the sweet memory of those three words he'd never thought he'd hear and couldn't have been happier. He was only now reminded of the fact that Harry had been pissed drunk and might have just as well been thinking Draco was a huge treacle tart. He did not want to imagine that Harry had mistaken him for another man. He wouldn't hurt himself like that.
"I'm sorry that you already went through the trouble of making something, but I can't stomach anything right now. I feel like it would all be out before I'd even get the chance to swallow properly."
"Yoghurt and toast?" Draco asked.
"I'll even pass that." And after a pause. "I think I'll go home and shower. I stink like a pig. See you tonight?" Harry asked, in hopes that whatever that sudden tension between them was would be solved with the dinner date at the new restaurant they had been planning.
"Aren't you tired after last night, though?" Draco asked, a hint of dismissal and hurt in his voice, which Harry did not miss.
"But it's still early. I'll sleep the day off and I'll be in top shape for tonight", he tried, heart stopping when Draco shook his head.
"I think you better rest. We can make it another time." He had a hard time keeping his voice from cracking, but he wanted Harry gone. He felt like another second in the man's presence and he would break down and cry in front of him.
Harry hesitated for a long moment, hurt and confused, but in the end, didn't say anything else and just walked out the door and apparated at his house.
He flopped down on the couch in the living room, wordlessly lit a fire which he proceeded to stare in for a long time, and turned the morning's events upside down in his head, trying, and failing, to understand where he'd gone wrong. Kreacher was the one to drag him away from the couch and towards the bathroom, none too subtly telling him that he smelled horrible.
Harry had almost laughed at that, but the heavy heart and troubled thoughts wouldn't let him. He did get into the shower, the hot water slipping from his hair and onto his face almost emptying his head. Almost.
But as soon as he closed his eyes, gleaming silvery eyes laughed at him from deep within his mind and he couldn't stand being in the shower any longer. He quickly washed and got out, head swimming in thoughts. What the hell had he done? Had he maybe said something inappropriate last night, after all? But Draco had been in such a good mood at the beginning, so it couldn't be that. Maybe it wasn't his fault at all, maybe Draco was just a huge prick and couldn't handle his mood swings so he lashed at Harry. But Harry felt instantly bad for thinking like that. Draco no longer was that spoilt kid, he had changed and be it damned if Harry didn't know that better than anyone else.
Before he knew it, he was back on the couch, hair damp and in only his boxer shorts, uncaring to his slight shiver.
∆∆∆
As soon as Harry closed the door behind him, Draco allowed a sob to escape his lips and a few tears to roll down his cheeks, before he angrily wiped them away and straightened his back. This wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth his tears. He loved Harry, and Harry didn't love him back, it was that simple and that normal. It didn't deserve his tears. Only, Harry did. Harry did deserve his tears. His tears, his time, his soul and life. Harry deserved them all because of who he was as a person, and who he was to Draco.
So yes, a few other tears slipped through his tightly shut eyelids, and a few more, until he couldn't stop them. He never knew heartbreak could hurt so bad. But that was before being allowed to glimpse paradise only to have it snatched from his fingers the next day.
What had become of his beliefs? Not having expectations was probably top of the list back in school. But he wasn't in school anymore now, was he? And he wasn't the same person either. He was a person Harry was proud of, so he did not admonish himself for believing. No, he did not regret it. Did not regret falling in love with Harry Potter.
∆∆∆
Kreacher came to him again some time after and admonished him for not drying his hair after a bath. He reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley, thought that caused him to smile despite himself.
"Master will catch a cold like this", mumbled the elf, leaving for only a second to come back with a fluffy blanket Harry had no idea he even had in the house.
He was grateful, though, since it was only then that he realised how cold he really was. Kreacher went to drape the blanket over Harry's shoulders, but that simple action clicked something in Harry's memory and he suddenly froze. The blanket. The blanket Draco wrapped him in just before taking him to bed. In bed, where Harry proceeded to cling to Draco like a koala and tell him he fucking loved him.
He jumped to his feet, startling the old elf in his haste.
"I told him I love him", was all he mumbled, horrified, as he ran upstairs to put some clothes on, blanket long forgotten beside a mumbling Kreacher.
He mindlessly threw a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on and, not bothering with any socks or even to go to the fireplace, apparated straight in Draco's living room, heart hammering in his chest and relieved to notice the wards still admitted him.
He heard a chair scrapping against the kitchen floor and hurried footsteps and his heart caught in
his throat in anticipation. And then there he was, still in his jumper, ruffled hair and blood shot eyes, but beautiful as ever.
"I told you I love you", was all he could say as he stared, unmoving, at the man in front of him.
Draco only nodded, not daring to look away for even a second, but not saying anything either. And when the silence stretched, Harry really started to feel like a moron. He couldn't have stopped to think for two god damn seconds before doing the first thing that crossed his mind, could he? Because, had he stopped and analyzed the situation, he would have realized that he would have nothing to say to Draco now.
Could he deny it? Say he was just drunk and to get over it? Of course not, he wasn't such a hypocrite. Could he straight up say he meant it and that he was expecting something in return? Fuck no. The only thing he wished for in return was not to be hexed into next week. So yeah, he could start with that.
"Uh, I- I meant it", he mumbled and watched in horror as Draco's eyes widened. "You don't have to say anything, okay? I, surprisingly enough, know where I stand and I understand if you think it's weird to stay friends now, but, just so you know, I'd still really like it if we could keep seeing each other", he said, then hurried to correct himself. "As friends, I mean. If you don't feel weird or uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know, so, like- you don't have to do anyth-"
"You're rambling", Draco said, softly, with a tired smile on his face.
"Uh, yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologise. I've always found it cute, actually."
Harry went to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment and said sheepishly: "Yeah, Hermione always said I start rambling when I get really nervous and I guess-"
And then his eyes widened slightly as he fully realised what was said.
"You think I'm cute?"
"I said it's cute when you ramble", Draco corrected, now growing embarrassed himself, his defensive side taking control instinctively. "Don't put words in my mouth", he almost snapped, feeling horrible the second after as he saw the look on Harry's face. "Uh, sorry, I just get the feeling you're going to start laughing at me any second. I get defensive."
"I know", Harry said and visibly relaxed. Then, silence stretched between them uncomfortably again.
"I do think you're cute", Draco said and immediately wanted to slap himself. Really, he sounded worse than a 13 year old boy with his first crush.
"And that's not a friend thing, right?" Harry asked, just to be sure, hope already bubbling in his chest.
"No, that's not a friend thing", Draco admitted softly, shaking his head just so.
And that was all Harry needed to know before he closed the distance between them and enveloped the blond in a much needed hug before finally connecting their lips. Draco threw his arms around Harry's neck and arched his back until there was no space left between their chests and the feeling of Harry's hands, warm and gentle and loving on the small of his back sent electric shocks up his spine. Harry bit his lower lip and moaned into his mouth as their tongues met and Draco was genuinely dizzy, so when Harry reached lower, cupped the back of Draco's thighs and hoisted him up, the blond really didn't complain about not having to stand on his own two feet. He wasn't sure he could for much longer, anyway.
When they pulled apart, after what could have been seconds or hours, they were both panting, lips swollen and eyes dazed.
"I'm sorry I was such an arse and came here drunk", Harry said after a while, moving them to the couch where he sat, Draco straddling his thighs.
"You didn't puke over all my furniture, so that's extra points in your favour", the blond replied, but didn't quite manage to sound as sarcastic as he would have liked because of the goofy smile that just wouldn't leave his face.
Harry chuckled at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly in the small space left between them.
"I love you, too, by the way", Draco then said, his smile growing wider at the grin of pure bliss on Harry's face.
"You do? You're not just saying that?"
"Harry, I'd be the last fucking person to be just saying that when I tell someone I love them", Draco said and rolled his eyes, ignoring the annoyingly pleasant flutter of his heart at Harry's childish, delighted laugh.
"The next dinner at the Weasleys is going to be lots of fun", chuckled Harry. "I can't wait to see the look on Ron's face."
"God me neither. It's going to keep me warm on cold nights."
"That", said Harry seductively, leaning ever closer and tightening the grip on Draco's thighs. "Is going to be my job and mine only from now on."
The breath caught in Draco's throat and blood pooled somewhere lower at the look on the brunet's face. The statement, though, warmed his heart inexplicably.
"I really like the sound of that."
And just like that, all the pieces fell in their places.