On Sunday mornings, I really do attempt to pay attention in church. But I always find myself daydreaming, for some reason. . . . This is what happened during this morning's service, while Morgan and Mike played with a little Paildramon action figure.
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The flat was only a handful of blocks from the Leaky Cauldron and quite expensive, its tall windows lending a keen view over Muggle London. On clear nights, one could see from the window over the sink a silver moon hovering in a cluster of winking stars, and this was why Draco fell in love with the flat.
Draco had always wanted to live in Muggle London. Having grown up in the Manor hidden somewhere in the country, he enjoyed the noise of the city, the movement of people, and the prospect of irritatingly nosy neighbors and surly landlords.
And so, when he found this flat, so close to the Leaky Cauldron and the wizarding world, he fell in love with its tall windows and view of the moon on clear nights and beaky-nosed landlady called Mrs Tweed and drunken downstairs neighbor, and he paid the first three months' rent immediately.
Tonight, Draco paced the flat with nervous energy; however, it came across as a habitual nitpicking as he adjusted lampshades and straightened drapes.
Harry Apparated with a pop! in the hall, and sounds of him discarding his shoes and coat came to Draco in the kitchen. Before he could have braced himself, Harry was in the kitchen, pinning the blond against the refrigerator as he kissed him roughly.
Anger and irritation radiated from Harry, making Draco uneasy. He pushed Harry away slightly, his silver eyes taking on an uncharacteristicly gentle sheen, though Harry kept his eyes closed as he seethed in silence.
"What happened?"
"You don't really want to listen to me complain about my day," Harry said shortly.
"Sometimes it isn't about me or what I want. Sometimes," Draco replied, linking his hands behind Harry's back, "it matters more that you want to talk."
"What's this, Draco Malfoy is turning down a snog?" Mock surprise filled his voice, but quickly receded as Harry added, "Hell would sooner freeze over. . . . Just kiss me."
Before Harry could kiss him again, Draco said, "But if you want to talk, I -- "
"I want to snog." He pressed himself against Draco, his lips raking over Draco's, his pulse accelerating with Draco's.
"But," Draco said, interrupting once again, "I am listening, when you want to tell me what happened. You can always talk to me."
Harry kissed him hard, and their hands met and fingers intertwined; and it was several moments before Draco realized that Harry was crying, his tears splashing not only on his own cheeks, but also on Draco's, and Draco squeezed Harry's hands as they snogged in front of the tall window above the sink as the stars winked around a silver moon.
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