HD 'For the Want…'
Fandom: HP
Pairing: H/D
Rating: PG-13 (kissage; UST)
WC: Short, short ficlet
Summary & Notes: This is inspired by the famous quote, 'For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost..." and it's a celebration of sorts and a way of saying 'thank you!' to a few people who've kept me sane and gasping in the good stuff. I've finally finished up this godawful long fic and have had a few Real Life issues work out much better than I ever expected, and for the moment, I'm breathing again. And that's what Harry and Draco need to do, when they return to Hogwarts, to finish up their schooling after the war. Except perhaps they've forgotten how, and need to learn again-or perhaps be jolted into it by circumstance.
It was one gust of wind and his hand slipped.
It was a long way down from the Astronomy Tower. Harry knew that; so did Malfoy. It ended in grey stone and splatter, if one wanted.
Harry got there in time perhaps by Apparating; he never really knew, after. He only knew that Draco's step into nothingness hadn't been planned. The lost, terrified look in those burning, red-rimmed grey eyes told him that. The faint resignation in those eyes hinted at a fatalistic despair.
But neither of them had come this far to give up. Draco wasn't suicidal; he wanted to live and Harry would've sworn that no matter how much Veritaserum was administered. They both wanted to live—it just hadn't begun yet.
"Thanks…Potter."
That was all he said, when Harry hauled him back off the brink and slung an arm 'round his waist and lower back to keep him steady. He thought Draco's knees might buckle for a moment, but they didn't. There was only this huge sigh, as if Draco was glad to taste air again, and then he was tugging away and Harry lost contact with the still too-thin ribs and the fiery warmth that was Draco's skin.
"Alright there, Malfoy?"
"Alright, Potter. See you 'round," Draco muttered, turning his head so that Harry only caught a glimpse of that pale set profile and strong jaw. He strode off immediately after, his shoulders as straight and his head as high as usual. Harry chuckled at it, surprised he could, but then watching Malfoy move around Hogwarts was one of Harry's main amusements these days. He watched to gauge Malfoy's wellbeing. He watched in case he needed to intervene—and he was well aware Malfoy watched him, too, and for just the same reasons.
It was a dance they were engaged in, and both seemed to know the moves instinctively. Harry would feint left and sit by Malfoy in Slughorn's Potions lecture; Draco would duck right and make room on the 8th Years Common Room sofa without a word said. They shared all the same classes, as they were both headed down the Auror track, and sharing classes led inevitably to sharing notes, and pairing up when it was required by a professor for a practical lesson.
The others sat back and watched it happen, even Ron. He'd shaken his head over it, naturally, but then he and Hermione had been caught whispering furiously afterwards in the stacks and Harry overheard the words "Should've known when we went back—" and "Inevitable, really, Ron," and he knew they wouldn't fight it. He and Ginny were over whatever faint spark had struck between them. Ginny wasn't planning on being a princess in a tower and Harry no longer needed one, anyway.
He needed Malfoy, though. He needed Draco, and he was positive Draco needed him. Pansy Parkinson had come back late to 8th Year, greatly subdued and struggling with being the orphan of a convict and a suicide. She and Draco were no longer an item, if ever they'd been. There was no one else in Malfoy's life, except Goyle, and Harry was sure the love between those two—if it still existed—was friendship only. Zabini had never returned from the Continent, when he and his mother had fled. So Draco had no one, really, except Harry, and Harry was selfish enough to be glad.
He was in the same situation, really. Ron and Hermione were a pair, and Harry had no interest in the girls or boys that had made him curious before the events of 6th Year. Only one person still caused his breath to quicken and only one made his groin tighten.
Malfoy, and he had nearly lost him—to the wind and a freak accident.
Harry sat down on the stone floor with a thump, all thoughts of laughter banished in a swamping wave of 'what-might've-been' terror. He simply couldn't imagine losing him. Couldn't see going on without him—
'Potter!"
The door to the Astronomy Tower's topmost floor was slammed open again with a thump.
Harry heard the sound of boot heels tapping hard across the floor and then there were warm arms around him and a flurry of flyaway pale hair and worried grey eyes.
"Wasn't going to—"
"I know—"
"Would never—"
"Yes. Don't!"
"Harry…oh, Harry!"
And the breath Harry been holding since he opened the door to the Tower out of sheer curiosity and purely by happenstance caught sight of Draco Malfoy's hand slipping, saw him stumble and tip utterly the wrong way, out instead of in—that breath, the one that constricted his heart and froze his innards, it let him go, finally. Released him.
"Draco!"
And it was no longer just anticipation and waiting breathlessly for the right moment, or wondering if it was all in his head, this feeling. There was no longer the fear he might fall and not have someone there to catch him.
He was safe as houses, he thought—he knew—when Draco's mouth met his.
Safe…and securely wanted—needed.
And life, with a jerk and a sigh and a fumble of fingers, was begun again. It was as simple as that.
Finite