Warning: Both present and past writing. Present is in normal text. Past is in italics.
Rated M for safety, no explicit scenes.
How I Keep You.
Harry stirred from his decently peaceful slumber to an odd scent that he could only describe as foreign to either him or the blonde, and as of now, completely unconscious Slytherin lying beside him.
The Boy-Who-Lived raised himself from his position to turn and run his eyes over the body to his right.
The smell was without doubt radiating from him now that time had allowed the aroma of sweat and sex to disappear. Harry leaned closer to make absolutely sure.
There was no mystery. He was correct the first time.
The Raven-haired boy huffed an angry breath of air and violently tore the blankets from his body while blindly searching for his discarded clothing.
He mumbled curses at himself as he quickly buttoned the muggle jeans that he'd decided he liked the best out of any of Draco's gifts to him, but now felt entirely unclean in the present and wished with all of his might that he hadn't done this to himself.
"You're awake already?" a husky voice muttered into a pillow, finishing the sentence with his head turned towards the slightly struggling Gryffindor. Harry didn't look back as he sat on the edge of the bed a felt a finger trail lightly up and down his bear back. "We have all day to lay around."
Still, he didn't answer and hardly breathed until a hand rested lightly on his shoulder, almost begging him to turn, begging him to let himself fall into something good, something that could let him feel,if only for a brief second, something different than pain.
The brunette turned finally to pleading grey eyes.
"Did you hear me Harry? I said I want to help you. You don't have to hurt anymore. I promise."
It wasn't until the shock had settled in that the savior understood his face was dampened with tears.
It was true that he didn't want to feel pain anymore. In absolute truth, he didn't want to feel anything.
But, this hurt.
What Draco did was physically hurting him.
"Is something wrong?" Draco purred, nuzzling the tender skin along Harry's neck. The Golden boy all but cringed at the touch and broke away, leaving the other with a hungry and predatory glint in his eye at the challenge.
The blonde followed and stood chest to chest with the slightly shorter and much less pale boy.
Like their personalities, their skins clashed in an onslaught of conflicting colors. Colors that when separated are brilliant, but when aligned spell out the promise of disaster.
Harry made silent pleas to Gods that he never believed in to help his ragged heart still while the blonde skimmed his nose across his jaw line.
The messy locks of the normally prim and proper young man tickled the delicate skin above Harry's lip that was begging for rougher contact but allowed itself none.
After receiving no positive reaction, Draco stilled his growing need and made himself eye level with the always stubborn Gryffindor.
Harry recognized the slight change in his opposites eyes, and after a tense silence of simply staring he tentatively reached out for the Slytherin's face.
By the looks of it, the blonde was surprised. He hadn't expected Harry to be confident enough to make the first move, but he was entirely glad that he had.
Harry was different from other wizards. No, not because of his name or his scar or his destiny, but for what he was as Harry.
The fact that he could command a room without the slightest effort or intimidation. People wanted to hear him, no matter what the idea. They knew that it was entirely good, just as Harry was.
And the way that he always seemed to give his absolute all even when every ounce of him needed to stop.
But, what seemed to attract Draco most to the heart guided Gryffindor was his understanding of the pain and mistake and burden that is love. Harry understood that that idea, the very concept of love only lead to and ended in pain. It only ever guaranteed suffering, and Draco Malfoy could understand that better than anyone could possibly know.
Harry organized a few stray pieces of hair from the slightly taller boys face and cradled his chin with his free hand.
He hadn't known Draco as anything but an enemy but realized after years of utter loss that they were quite similar in thought and sometimes even in manner.
The Slytherin was uniquely gifted and witty and charming and devilishly seductive in just about every sense of the word. But, he brought those qualities out of Harry as well. He forced the man that hid behind the boy that lost the key to himself for so long out of his secret place.
And as much as he'd begun to like the feeling, he was also terrified.
But, sometimes that's all you need is that push, that fear.
And after leaning in for what seemed like miles to Draco's expecting lips, Harry decided that maybe he would consider falling again.
"Harry," Draco paused, whispering mainly to know that he could still speak, "Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving," Harry muttered, closing his eyes while a hand that was not his own snaked around his waist and tickled the small of his back, a known weak spot.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not sure that I want to fall anymore,"he forced, finally opening his eyes, "Not if there isn't going to be someone there to catch me."
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter!"
"We've been over this, have we not? There's no falling, no nothing. It's feeling."
"Well, that isn't enough anymore and would it be too much to ask of you to maybe get rid of any sign of whoever you were with last?"
Draco tore himself away and let the comment slide away from him as he climbed back into bed.
"You don't have to be here."
"I know," Harry murmured into the blonde's soft hair while the two lay in the middle of the Quidditch field, "But, I want to."
Harry had known death more personally than anyone Draco had ever met, so no other name came to mind with who would comfort him when his parents passed.
With this Gryffindor, he could feel safe with his vulnerability, something he'd never actually said aloud.
And when he was trapped in this helpless moment and wrapped in a strong embrace that welcomed him home, he almost felt as if Harry meant more.
Times like these made it easy to pretend.
"Why don't you leave then? I specifically remember us never being exclusive."
"We've never been anything!" Harry almost shouted.
"And it's what you wanted. It's what we both agreed to."
"I can't give myself to someone that wants more than this," the Slytherin panted beneath his soon to be partner. "I can't lose someone again."
"You don't have to worry about me falling for you. I promise."
And for the first time in their history, the two that had vowed to never agree or make peace from the very beginning became one.
Through the midst of the heated words and empty promises of never, it was hard for either boy to admit that what they had just made wasn't love. But, they succeeded anyway, promising to themselves that they were the other's outlet. They were only release, and for now, wrapped snugly about the other, resisting the urge to mutter little declarations of love and finally making a steady rhythm in their otherwise jagged breathing patterns, it was easy to forget that the agreement never existed.
"Harry?" Draco mumbled into the hollow of Harry's throat, pulling himself closer to the heat of the body beside him.
The raven-haired boy groaned in response, closer to sleep than the blonde.
"Thank you for everything."
Draco had never been sure that Harry had consciously remembered that thought after the night ended, but when he had felt the smile curl on Harry's lips in his sweat dampened hair, he knew he understood, then at least.
"Yes, I suppose we had that agreement months ago. And just for measure, how many men have you been with since we've been-," he cut himself off, unsure of what to call the relationship.
Harry waited patiently as Draco took a mental count of the names since they'd begun this charade.
"I didn't know that we were keeping count, Potter."
"Well, if it's so hard for you to recall that slice of time, maybe we could go over my list," Harry hissed through clenched teeth, quickly losing whatever was keeping him from hexing the cold hearted bastard that is Draco Malfoy into the next dimension.
"Listen, I never said that you couldn't-."
"There's one name on the list Draco. It's yours."
The Slytherin breathed carefully as he pulled his knees and covers to his chest, a nervous habit he'd acquired.
"You could have had anyone Harry. I'm not forcing you to stay."
"I don't want anyone else! How much longer is it going to take for you to realize this?"
"Don't-," Draco nearly begged. "I don't want what you do."
"Then what do you want?"
"I don't know sometimes," the Slytherin answered, taking Harry's extended hand and entwining their fingers. "It changes everyday."
"You can't think of anything?" they Gryffindor pressed again, stopping to take a look at the face he thought he would forget if he didn't constantly have it in sight.
Draco always seemed to feel that way to him, something so dreamlike that if he were too hasty for even a moment he could let the boy slip right through.
"I want to be happy," Draco shrugged, "What do you want?"
Harry leaned forward to touch his lips to his other's pale cheek and leaned in farther to his ear, tickling it with his nose.
"Does this make you happy?" the brunette whispered.
"Y-y-yes" the blonde stammered.
"Good, because that's what I want."
"This means nothing to you," Harry realized, gesturing with his hand in the air between them, "Nothing at all."
"I won't apologize for something I shouldn't be sorry for."
"You're right," Harry agreed, "You are."
The Gryffindor picked up his wrinkled shirt from the corner of the bed and draped it over his left shoulder.
"You're not the one who found feeling. I was the one dumb enough to try again."
"We all make mistakes."
"Yeah, but I would never make the same one again. You know as well as I do what happens to people I love."
Draco cringed inwardly at the idea. It was true. Normally people who loved Harry, or people Harry returned the favor to ended in death. No one, not even Harry could survive his curse.
"You don't need to worry, Potter. I'm not capable of loving anything."
Harry nodded and took hold of the brass doorknob of Draco's Prefect's bedroom.
"You're leaving then?" Draco asked almost emotionless. If Harry had found the courage to look at him, he would have easily discovered the hurt and sadness that passed through his grey eyes.
"There really isn't a reason for me to stay," he decided before opening the door and closing it quietly behind him, leaving Draco alone in the over sized room.
"But, you will."
And as much as it destroyed Draco to watch him leave, that was the only way that he could keep Harry.
Without Harry, before Harry, he felt nothing, believed nothing.
But the Golden Boy let him live. Harry had given him back his life.
And as long as he fought away all that he'd wanted, they could remain together.
And Draco, well, Draco could pretend, and that was enough.
Chapter 2: A different ending (No need to read- this is a separate ending written well after the angsty ending above)
And, as it always seemed to be, Draco was wrong.
Harry hadn't returned.
True to his word, that was the last time that he would ever enter or exit the privacy of the Slytherin's room.
The room that each wizard had hid from the rest of the world in. The room that existed to be a haven in the otherwise mess of a world that each boy lived in only now served as a reminder of what never was, what never could be.
And as time passed, Draco understood that fact more than ever.
Some people are just meant to be unhappy, Draco thought, marking his mental calendar of the four hundred and fifty first day that he'd been close enough to Harry, or heard Harry. He couldn't lie and say that the morning over a year ago had been the last time he'd seen the raven haired boy. His dreams seemed to have other ideas with the face he so longed to forget.
The piercing green eyes that glowed brighter than any sunrise Draco had known. That had seen more than he'd cared to ask about. The slight smirk that always seemed to settle on his thin lips whenever Draco had found him. Even if the gesture was an act, the blond appreciated the effort to make him smile in return.
And for reasons Draco couldn't understand, he was forced to smile back. Not in an obligated fashion, but something almost as natural as breathing, as natural as a heart beat, something he couldn't stop on his own.
But, that didn't matter now.
For about a year, Harry served his time in the muggle world. He truly was convinced that there was no reason to stay. And, he was right.
The war had begun shortly after their last morning, and Draco, no matter what his feelings were for Harry, he didn't stand behind him.
He couldn't. Even in death, his father owned him.
You can't help what you are, Harry once told him. The Gryffindor was rarely wrong.
But, that didn't mean that Draco had to hurt this man. It was during the war that he had begun to see the Boy-Who-Lived as the Man-Who-Lived. He'd grown up, and began to re-enter the world with hopes of something, anything better than what he had.
And he deserved it, which made the blond entirely jealous, bringing him, at a point in time, to hate the savior.
Draco had watched Harry pull himself from the ground at the very end of the disaster that is always war. His face was ash covered, his skin full of unseen scratches and soon to be scars, his clothing torn and drenched in strange blood that was not his own.
He was beautiful.
But, he hadn't expected what occurred next. Harry had left.
He simply walked away. The glory, the fame, the obvious worship that would ensue. He walked away from it.
And worst of all, he walked away from Draco.
Out of everything that happened to him throughout the course of the war, or even the course of his life, this had hurt the worst. This was what finally broke the otherwise frozen heart of this ice-prince.
For months, Draco had waited. And when he grew tired of waiting, he slipped into an angry depression that left him violent towards no one but himself and the inanimate objects closest to him.
During that period, well, Draco found himself more alone than ever.
He knew of no one that could help him, no one that would care to listen to even one of his problems.
And the only person that could possibly see him through his fit was a world away, forgetting him, or had already forgotten him. Like he said, he really didn't have a reason to stay.
But, what Draco couldn't fully understand was that he was the reason that Harry should want to stay. Draco could change, couldn't he? He could be everything that Harry needed, everything he wanted. But, what did Harry want?
Love?
That was difficult, but possible.
A guaranteed future?
Well, no one could promise that, but he could try.
And would Harry want that with Draco? With someone he thought could never change. That's why he left wasn't it? For change?
How can a person know if they can change until they try in the first place?
Harry had no right to assume Draco as an unchangeable force. That was simply unfair.
Unfair...
What he'd done to the raven-haired man… that was unfair.
And Draco could abide by what Harry needed, and what he needed was to forget this place, forget what happened to him, forget himself, and without doubt, forget Draco.
Harry wanted to be a man. He wanted to start over. He wanted to live for himself now that the weight on his shoulders had been lifted.
"And I can give him that," Draco whispered to himself. "I can let him live."
Harry sat towards the middle of his bed in the home that he shared with Ron and Hermione. They'd all wanted to start anew, and what better a place than to live than a place where no one knew their names.
Of course Harry hadn't told them a word about his time spent with Draco. They didn't need to know. And like Draco had said, nothing was between them, and nothing needed to be shared with no one.
And there was no reason to bring a reminder. The less he thought about the blond, and the less he spoke of him, it was easier to forget.
Of course it had been hard for him to finally finish everything he'd worked for and not be able to go back to someone he loved...
But, he couldn't really love Draco?
And even if he had, he never could be truly happy with someone who didn't feel anything back. There's really only so much one heart can take.
Then again, he didn't seem to be happy with two people who loved him almost as much as they loved each other. And he more than likely wouldn't find someone he was willing to fall for again. But, he'd lived this long without it, what's the rest of a lifetime?
"Harry!" Hermione called from behind his bedroom door, interupting his life theory, "Harry, can I come in?"
"Sure Mione. I'm decent."
She opened the door carefully, minding Harry's reactions to sudden sounds and smiled slightly at the friend in front of her. She could hardly understand how much was grief dwelled behind his eyes, but pretended to sympathize. No one really could relate.
"Harry, they sent another one. Please, let them have their party. You deserve so much more and they are only trying to thank you the best they can."
For months now, Harry had been receiving letters from the ministry, hoping that they could celebrate in his honor. He'd given them so much more than a simple pat on the back could ever suffice, and Harry wanted no part of it.
"Thanking me for what? Killing wizards they used to know? Breaking families apart? Destroying lives? You're right. I deserve all of their thanks."
"This is what kills me Harry! You- you- you go around moping all of the time while Ron and I get to watch you! And what does that do? Nothing! And why? Because you won't let anyone help you! If you won't do this for yourself, do it for them! It will make them feel better. Damn it Harry! You saved us all and the least you can do is care a little for yourself!"
The raven-haired boy watched while his best friend's wife collected herself, her breathing ragged in her sudden rage that took him a step back from where he'd been only moments ago.
"Would that help at all?" Harry whispered weakly, not meeting the witch's eyes.
"Yes, Harry. It would help very much."
It was a few minutes before either spoke. But, Harry would be the one to break the silence.
"Then I'll do it Hermione. For them. Not for me."
And for the first time in a long time, Hermione smiled a genuine smile, something so common in others, but at that moment, felt like the most beautiful thing that Harry had ever witnessed. Actual happiness.
Without warning, the witch ran towards the unsuspecting wizarding hero, and tackled him to the bed, completely ignoring his space while surrendering to a fit of actual laughter.
"Oh calm down Weasley, this is just an excuse to dress up Ron."
"And you! God knows that nothing over the years has changed anything about either one of your tastes in anything."
I wouldn't say that, Harry thought to himself, smiling inwardly.
"Oh for heaven's sake Harry! Could you please stop fidgeting?"
"She has a point Har, you shouldn't be this nervous. Be happy or something. It wouldn't kill you for a change."
Harry followed the advice of his roommates and ceased his mindless nail biting long enough to plaster a false smile on his lips and shake a few hands with strangers that had 'owed him their lives.'
And he may have almost enjoyed himself if it weren't for the sight that would forever plague him… Draco Malfoy.
As if one could remain standing while dead, Harry went entirely still at the vision.
Of course he hadn't believed the man would change physically in a year, but he had. He seemed almost genuine in his grace as he remade acquaintances and renewed old bonds. He didn't seem cold in his actions. There was something-
"Harry!" Hermione nearly hissed, trying to sound remotely pleasant while keeping an eye on the ever stubborn hero. "You should think about moving. Or blinking. Or speaking. Or anything that would give someone a clue to the fact that you still have a pulse."
He nodded in a nearly forced agreement and continued on with his line of fans.
"Thank you, Harry."
"You've really outdone yourself."
"Please, if there is ever anything that you need."
"Sir, just one more photo, one more autograph."
After hours of introductions and meaningless thank-yous, Harry politely excused himself to the outskirts of the castle, taking a break from what he'd been putting off since the war.
He hadn't needed the fame, no, adolescence filled with that was entirely enough. He didn't need the praise. What he'd done wasn't right, and well, he couldn't accept thanks for it. And he most definitely would never find glory in what he'd done. Not now, not ever.
Lost in his own mind, a place he'd begun to grow tired of, he hardly noticed, or just didn't care about who had taken to following him.
"Please," Harry called behind him, "I only need a minute. I'll return, I swear."
"I didn't plan on making you make an appearance Harry," an all too familiar voice answered, seeming to stumble over his name.
Harry turned and nodded once at the blonde in front of him. "Good."
"H-how are you?" Draco asked, immediately slapping himself mentally for not only faltering in phrase but asking such a remedial question.
Of course he wasn't okay.
"Fine. You?"
And of course he would lie in attempts to avoid the guilt of another's eyes.
"I've seen better days, to be honest. But, I'm glad to hear that you're well."
Harry laughed humorlessly and moved around the bench he'd forgotten he'd been using to support himself and sat, relishing the feel of not having to hold himself up anymore.
"I'm tired, Draco," Harry tried to confess a little at a time, testing the sound of the former Slytherin's name in his voice. It hadn't sounded much different.
"Well, that makes sense," he agreed, coming to sit beside the nearly breaking man. "What made you accept all of this?"
"Hermione guilt-tripped me into it." He chuckled again, hearing how ridiculous that sounded. "I put it off long enough I suppose. Gave it a good run. And after tonight, I won't have to deal with any of this anymore. I can start over. Get away from any of this."
"So, no desires of returning then, eh, Potter?" Draco teased half-heartedly. "I assumed you detested the muggle world so strongly, and here I am. Wrong again."
"It isn't like I love it there," Harry murmured, not accepting Draco's pitiful attempts at light conversation.
"Then why stay?"
"Because it isn't here."
Draco had wanted now more than ever to read Harry, to turn to blazing green eyes and have that man crumble to nothing beneath him. But, he restrained himself, thinking that if he let himself look through Harry, it would be too much. He wouldn't be able to hold his promise to himself.
"Well, Harry, some of us don't have the excuse of exhaustion like yourself. I think I'll return to this little gathering in your honor."
Feeling the weight shift in the bench, Harry forgot for a moment where he was and his arm shot from his side to allow his hand to take hold of the blonde's arm.
"Wait," he spoke softly, trying to control the tremor in his voice, "Could you stay with me? Only for a while. We don't have to talk; I just don't want to be alone, or with them."
"Sure."
And they didn't talk. Not for an hour, not for two hours.
It was a comfortable silence. One that was understood by both wizards. What could they say? What should they say?
Sorry?
For what, Draco thought, absently playing with the buttons of his robes.
He wasn't the one who'd left. And that probably wasn't what Harry didn't want to talk about anyway. Draco may have only had Harry's absence to deal with, but Harry had the world. Seems right that their past wouldn't really be the first worry on his list.
And Draco could respect that.
The blonde was startled from his thoughts by something warm pressing into his hand, and looked down to find that it was another hand, Harry's.
Draco squeezed the almost trembling fingers lightly, to assure the raven-haired man that he was still there.
"I've missed you," Harry finally uttered, not looking to Draco for his reaction, but understanding the shock when the man to his left caught his breath. "During the war, after the war, now. I've missed you."
Draco couldn't speak if he'd wanted to. Anything he would say would sound rehearsed and cheesy and inexplicably terrifying in its intensity. He hadn't wanted to scare the hero away.
"Sounds funny right? That I'd still feel anything after everything that's happened. That our little charade had changed me in some way… You can call me foolish, or whatever you'd like now. There really isn't anything you could do that could hurt me now. I'm nearly impervious to pain."
The blonde man stifled a small snicker at Harry's sarcasm and rubbed his thumb in gentle circles around The-Man-Who-Lived's hand before covering both with his free hand.
"I don't think you're foolish. I don't think you're impervious to pain. I don't think you understand what your absence did to me. What I do know, and am absolutely sure of is that I missed you as well. I do know that I regret a lot of things that I've done, and said, and felt, but I never counted you in that pile." He paused, collecting his breath before continuing. "I didn't like when you were away, it felt wrong. And I hated siding against you, even if I did nothing to your side. I only coward in the shadows and hoped you wouldn't lose. And if anything at all, I hated seeing you tonight and feeling everything I'd tried to pretend wasn't there, rise up and cut through me harder than any known feeling I'd ever had. I hate myself for holding on to something that let go of me. And worst of all," Draco breathed, finally letting his walls break down, "it was my fault. I had everything and I let it go."
Too many moments of silence passed between the wizards for comfort and Draco released his hold of Harry's hand.
"I'm sorry, Harry," he said quietly as he prepared himself to leave, not adhering to his own needs to look back, and sped up pace to the party.
At least here he could drown himself in alcohol and hope to whatever God was out there that he wouldn't have and hadn't made an entirely large fool of himself.
After about three or four shots of a drink he could no longer pronounce without slurring, he turned to find a rather angry looking Hero stampeding towards him in an anything but graceful manner.
Contrary to popular belief, Draco could be scared, especially when liquor was involved, and especially when a charging vision of fury was only a few yards away from him, clearing an uncomfortable space for whatever he had planned.
"Draco Malfoy! You mindless, worthless excuse for a wizard, pompous, arrogant git!"
The blonde stumbled only enough to trip over his own feet and fall onto his backside, giving the torrent of rage easy access to his defenseless form.
Taking advantage of his newly found courage, Harry climbed over his target and placed his hands roughly over his hurriedly rising and falling chest, not giving him an inch as he became nose to nose with one of his oldest enemies.
"Just get on with it, Potter," Draco winced in the oncoming pain.
And without warning, he crushed his lips to the nearly brain-dead blonde and wrapped his hands around his frozen face for dear life while he let every memory of hate and lust and passion and thrill pour out into what he could only feel was the most life shattering kiss of his life.
Before long, the man beneath him responded slightly and Harry opened his eyes to find the startling look of terror in the grey orbs that stared relentlessly back at him.
But, he ignored the fear that was so blatant, and hoped for dear life that the fear filled shivers that he was producing would be unnoticed.
Finally, he broke the kiss and leaned forward to rest his head against the floor beneath Draco and pant into his hair.
"How- Dare- You- Just- Run- Away," he breathed, pulling himself, along with the other boy into some kind of sitting position.
"Harry," he heard someone say behind him, but threw his hand back to silence them. He needed to do this, and do it right.
He ran a hand absent-mindedly through blonde locks and rested his other hand over a flushed and normally pale cheek.
"What in Merlin's name were you thinking? Honestly, do you know me? Have you ever? Why would you say anything like you just did and then leave? What are you running from?"
Draco sighed and closed his eyes tightly, letting the feeling of Harry's warm hands sink deeper.
"Because I'm afraid."
"Of me?" Harry asked, stiffening and stilling all motions.
"Of course of you!" Draco nearly screamed, finding the energy to push the distracted hero off of him. "How am I supposed to not be afraid of you? Good lord Harry! Are you blind?
"Do you think that I want to hurt you? Do you think that I purposely set you up to get hurt? I can't love you without destroying you and that terrifies me! If I stay with you, only you, I'll never be able to stop how I feel, and I can't let that happen to you. Even I can't do anything so terrible!"
"That's what you're afraid of? You're afraid of loving me?" Harry asked weakly.
Draco could only gulp in response, not finding even the slightest courage to nod or the least amount of trust in his voice.
And that's all the answer Harry needed to pull the struggling ice prince into his arms and tighten when he resisted.
"I never want you to say that again. I know your strength and I know that you can survive me. If anyone can break whatever obscene curse that's held over me, it's you. And I truly believe that."
"How do you know?" Draco spoke a little shakily.
"Because I'm afraid to love you too."
Draco knew what Harry was really saying and immediately thanked Harry's strong arms for holding him steady while broken sobs wrenched through him.
No one had ever truly loved him, or liked him or any beautiful emotion such as that. Sure, he'd been lust after or wanted or needed in a physical sense, but love required patience and time and an actual soul, something that Draco hadn't thought he could have until this moment now where all that existed was the ragged breathing of the always stubborn Gryffindor…
"Harry, I-."
"No," the raven haired man stopped him, "Don't say anything back if you don't know what it means. I can wait for you to learn just exactly you feel. I can."
"Maybe you are a fool," Draco said innocently, smiling at a now confused Harry. "It isn't as though I've come to this conclusion all of a sudden. You've always been the only one. But, fear of losing you kept me from ever letting myself keep you. I shouldn't be allowed to have you. So, I did the only thing I could to make you at least partly mine. I hurt you in hopes of you needing me to fix you, and you didn't come back. You didn't need me."
Harry swallowed hard, not knowing exactly how to proceed with the conversation. He could understand Draco's uneasiness with even the word love, but to know that he could feel it too was almost too much to handle at one time.
"And that hurt more than I ever thought it would. Believe me, I tried. I tried harder than I ever had to forget even a second of what we were and I couldn't do it. Even the bad times left me breathless. And I think I had realized that I couldn't forget because I hadn't wanted to. I still don't want to forget you. If anything, I want to remember more."
Even under the stupor, Draco could finally feel the eyes boring into his back.
"We have an audience," he mumbled into Harry's neck.
"Is that supposed to be new to me?" Harry chuckled, smiling into another kiss that was shorter than his previous one, but still enough to make Draco's knees weak.
"Well, it is to me," the blonde breathed, resting his forehead against Harry's.
"And I won't let you go through it alone," Harry promised.
And I won't let you go… Draco thought, letting himself finally fall. And he knew then that he didn't have to worry about the unknown when there would be someone to catch him.
He didn't have to hurt Harry to keep him.
No, it was much simpler than that.
All he had to do was fall…
