Harry cannot sleep. It’s something that has been difficult since he was a child, truthfully. But it’s only worsened thanks to the whole… war thing. How would one hope to describe that? That time as a teenager when I died to save everyone I love? That time the evilest dude ever and his entire posse murdered half my school?
He shivered. His eyes opened. Nothing was there.
Wait no. Wait no what is this what’s going on. Who, what, when. And it all comes flooding back.
His glasses were taken off when he fell asleep. Malfoy. The fire. Hermione, the blanket, Malfoy, homework, studying, Draco, Draco, Draco.
Him and his pretty face and sharp glare and the way he seemed so wary of everyone, everything. The way he never sat alone but always looked alone and how quiet he was now. Harry had been finding himself missing the jeers. It was something that he had known would always await him when he woke up in the morning and it didn’t anymore.
He had hated old Malfoy but he never really understood how much he loved him. Even when, as Ron and Hermione tell him, he stalked the boy.
But none of it really matters anymore. Especially not right now.
I swear to every god up there, if this is a trick or some fucked up dream I’ll destroy you.
He could hear the steady heartbeat of the boy who hated him. He knew that the boy was still awake. And he was playing with his hair.
He didn’t tense at the feeling of Draco’s fingers twisting through his hair. Draco tugged on a small lock so gently it made Harry want to melt.
Harry relaxed and soaked in every drop of the feeling. He held onto Draco’s side. How had this happened? How had Draco allowed this? Draco flinched from most contact nowadays. Violently, sometimes.
Harry recalled the second day of eighth year when Pansy pulled Draco into a side hug as a greeting. The boy had drop kicked her, seemed surprised for a second to have just drop kicked her, then he ran away. Nobody saw him again until the next day, where Pansy apologizes and Draco didn’t speak. Everyone, including Harry, was hesitant around him from then on.
Harry could remember and also at the same time remember the movement from earlier. Draco had muttered calming “shh, it’s okay”s to him and he could feel the ghost of a cold hand on his arm from where Draco had soothed him. He could remember Draco tossing a blanket over them both, then kicking at it a few times without moving too much. But these memories had the hazy, dream-like factor to them because certainly, Harry was not awake then.
But why? He could not get the question out of his mind no matter how much he wished to simply savor these sleepy moments innocently.
Had someone made him? Had he been afraid to move? Was he scared Harry would be mad? But the way the former death eater ran his fingers through his hair so naturally made him think maybe this could be real.
Draco was too good for him. Harry would break him, drop him on accident and shatter his unbreakable persona. Maybe Harry was the savior of the wizarding world and all that mumbo jumbo the press said, sure, whatever, but Draco was a million things more than that.
A strung out hero and the hero that went unsung completely; they’d destroy each other, right? They would be each other’s trigger, grenade, and demise.
But that’s not to say Harry didn’t think he was in love with the boy he was asleep on though. And as dumb as Ron (and everyone else in their dorm room) thinks it is, he came to the sure decision a while ago.
Only thing is Draco still thought he hated him. And after years with the Dursleys, Harry was an amazing actor.
Draco’s heart sped up a fraction and stopped Harry’s thoughts in their tracks. Harry kept his eyes closed, feeling Draco lean his head into his hair.
“I love you,” Draco murmured. It was barely audible. Draco’s breath on his scalp made him shiver. The feeling of Draco pressed close to him almost distracted from what the former death-eater had actually said.
Later, Harry will say his first thoughts were ones very quick and hard to remember, but they meant nothing but pure joy and love for Draco.
Really it was one thought, and it had nothing to do with love or joy. Oh no.
And panic set in again. Harry was not meant to actually hear that. How does he react? Not at all? Say something? He’d make a fool of himself if Draco noticed his tenseness but they’d be equally as embarrassed so maybe it would all work out? Or maybe Draco would hit him like he hit Pansy and they’d never even be friends, much less lovers.
WhatdoIdo.Fuckfuckfuck. ILOVEYOUTOO?
Harry did nothing. It was something he did not do well in any other context of life, and it was equally as difficult now.
“I love you, Harry.”
Draco repeated it. His voice was honey and caramel and salt, bittersweet and stuffed with so much pure goddamn emotion Harry melted from the inside out. There was guilt in it, too, though it was distant.
He could feel more than hear or see Draco lean back. The muscles under Harry stretched. Harry’s smile widened.
Wait, shit, Draco noticed that smile, didn’t he?
Harry was anxiety-ridden and a bit scared of how this would work. He already knew what he was going to do. He’s faced the dark lord and died, so surely this can’t be that bad, right? The majority of his brain, the pessimistic logical side, said yes. That one part that made him actually go into the woods didn’t disagree, but it was louder than logic when it said, ‘Do it anyway.’
Strange.
The nerves are there, under his skin. But it’s Draco. The boy Harry knows he’s in love with, so what’s the point in dancing around it? Live knowing he missed the perfect chance to romantically tell Draco he loved him, even if it didn't work out? Who cares?
And the boy who lived was drunk on courage.
I’ll wait. To see if he says it again. If he ends up hating me, I want to remember what it sounds like to hear him say he loves me.
The first time he met Draco, he had insulted him, indirectly. From there on, Draco and he had insulted each other, fought, bullied, teased, jeered, almost straight-out murdered one another (Harry had yet to formally apologize for it) and saved each other’s lives. Now, they could be anything. They could be anything. They could work out, they would. Draco wouldn’t be ‘the death-eater boy’ and Harry wouldn’t be ‘the boy who saved them’ and they would be ‘Draco’s date’ and ‘Harry’s date’.
Draco carded his fingers through his hair and twisted a strand around his pale finger.
“I really think I love you, Harry,” Draco said with an airy giggle. He was practically giddy. “Harry Potter, I really think I do.”
God, I want to kiss that stupid mouth of yours, making me feel feelings and shit. But Harry waited, as he would for the next few minutes. Not because it was part of his plan, but because he was so enthralled with holding onto Draco’s happy little voice that the plan went out the window the minute Draco’s mouth opened.
I really think I love you.
It’s so real.
Draco is falling asleep.
Harry, do something. Proclaim your love! Right now, it’s a perfect time!
‘I love you too,’ Potter, it’s not that hard to say.
Harry had such a stupid grin on his face that would make Ron ask if he was feeling well.
“Me too,” He muttered, hoarse and not at all honey like or pretty like Draco’s. He wanted to die of embarrassment the minute the words came out of his mouth. He held onto Draco’s shirt and buried his face in his stomach. But he could feel the content sigh Draco gave as he sank further into sleep. Harry looked up to see Draco smiling like he’d never before seen. Not in their eight years of knowing each other had Harry been more sure he loved this boy.
“Draco Malfoy, I love you.” But Draco was already asleep and didn’t hear him. So Harry moved up Draco’s body until his face and Draco’s were close enough.
Harry rested his forehead on top of Draco’s.
“Draco, wake up, I love you.”
He had to lean down only a bit for their lips to meet. When they did, Harry stilled, his brain fried, and he was in completely new territory here with Draco and unsure of what to do.
So Draco acted for him.
~fin.
Hey it’s me and I write another one. I have not edited it yet though so excuse any weird mistakes. Also it’s morning and I’m tired.
@astressedwriter what do you think?
But yeah that’s a thing and I enjoyed it and send requests if you wanna.
Bella drifted from the conversation between Perri and Maddi to plug in her iPod, she shuffled through her songs before finally deciding on Mr. Saxobeat by Alexandra Stan. She felt the beat as it radiated through her whole body. She began to dance around the room, jumping on the chairs and tables, and dancing her heart out. Her flirty nature rising in her as she moved about the boys in the room saving her sexiest moves for the times she was near one. "Join me, boys and girls! Let's lighten the mood a little" as she continued her wild movement around the room.
