Harry POV
How I yearn, and yearn I do, to kiss those lips of yours, those red and swollen lips of yours, swollen from our kisses shared in secret, swollen so that those who seek out your face and stare at it, stare at your eyes and your nose and your lips, those can't not notice them, can't not know what you have been up to.
Oh how I yearn to kiss them again, and again, until they tingle, until all you can remember is me, my lips, my face, my taste, until all is forgotten but you and I from your mind, but I know, I know so well, that you wish not to have me do that to you, not in such a public place, but yearn I do.
And I yearn, I do, I yearn to whisper your name, to shout it out loud, I yearn so that you would call me by my name, in front of others, you would claim me as yours, for yours I am, and you know this, you must have noticed this, for I do not believe I have hidden my feelings, have hidden my thoughts as well as you have.
I yearn, I think, as I look at you, keep my eyes on you and follow your every movement, as you move towards your friends, those few who came back, who still wish to keep close to you, who must have loved you before I did – before I knew I did, I yearn to tell you of my feelings, to tell you out loud that I love you, no matter how much you must have seen it in my eyes, in the way I touch you so gently, in the way I kiss you, even if this morning I have ravaged your lips beyond salvation, even if I have marked you as mine – no, not mine, for you wish not for them to know – I have marked you as taken, I still believe that my actions betray my feelings, and still, still I yearn to tell you how I love you.
But I yearn, I fear, even more, I think as you sit down, you take breakfast and decidedly ignore those around you, everyone around you, I yearn so much that I could hear those words from your lips, your beautiful, gorgeous lips, the lips I love to kiss so much, so much I yearn for you to tell me you share my feelings, but I'm afraid, I'm so afraid that you don't, that you are just using me, and in a way, that's good, that's more than nothing, isn't it, yet I yearn for those words to leave your lips when you're looking at me, when you're alone with me, to tell me you're mine as much as I am yours.
But I can yearn, I can keep on yearning, for the rest of my days, I imagine, and I tear my eyes from you, to look around myself, afraid that someone will have noticed, but my friends just scoff at the way you look, they can't see you the way I do, I can yearn for the end of my days, if I don't do something about it, if I don't fulfill a yearning, tell you my feelings for you, because if I do that, I gather I'll either get all or lose everything.
To have had you, even for a while, must be more than most people can say, so I decide, make it known to my heart, that I shall tell you the next time I corner you or you corner me for a short snog, I shall ruin that and tell you and then you can either fulfill my yearnings or sneer at me and leave it at that, leave me like that.
Draco POV
I can feel his eyes on me as I sit down, my lips tingling from our kisses. I can feel his eyes on me but I do not dare to look for fear of revealing what is not mine alone to reveal. I busy myself with the breakfast, I ignore my friends, even though they are quite insisting.
Pansy insists I am doing this on purpose, arriving with swollen lips, for how could it be nothing but on purpose? And I know, I do, that it is on purpose, for a reason he has not revealed me, but I do not mind, for this is something that I wish for, wish for us to be able to be us.
Blaise keeps asking who it is, and then suggesting names and he does get it right, at one point, or perhaps multiple times, and I wonder if he knows, somehow. He might. He has known me for too long, I fear. I fear Pansy might be able to figure it out as well.
I wish to look at him, to see if those eyes are still on me, those eyes I cannot get enough off. I wish they are, because that would mean there was a point to this, or maybe not. I wish they are, because I like knowing he is watching me. He is thinking of me, he must be, if he is staring at me, must he not?
I sigh and that brings forth a new flood of questions that I do not wish to answer. I risk a glance at him and find that he is looking around him, looking at his plate. Not at me. I cannot stop my heart sinking just a bit, even though I know he cannot keep on watching me for every single moment of breakfast. I busy myself with breakfast, look at my friends and smile, not enough for it to reach my eyes.
I have been changing, lately, quite a bit. I have grown up from the boy I was, I have learnt that I cannot have all that I wish for. So I am afraid that even though I wish for him, I am not going to be able to have him for too long. But I know that if it is not to be, then I will get over it. In due time.
Harry POV
You look like an angel, I think, sometimes, when I look at you, and then it's always like I'm seeing you for the first time.
An angel who has fallen but started fixing his wings, that's what you make me think of, that's what I'm thinking of now, hours later, when I've finally managed to get you alone without alarming either of our friends, and I look at you, keep seeing flashes of wings that could be but aren't.
You are looking at me, expectantly, for I have dragged you here without telling you why, without telling you if I just want a quick snog or not, and I can understand you might feel a bit overwhelmed because it's rarely, if ever, that we meet more than once a day, rarely even that to manage to keep this little thing, this little fling, but so much more to me, a secret.
You are looking at me and I bite my lip for what will I do if you reject me, even though you haven't once rejected me after this thing, this fling began, but how can I be sure you won't, when it's so much more that I wish for, that I want for?
The Gryffindor in me is pushing through, and it's a good thing, too, because the silence is growing, the silence is turning into something more ugly than it ever should be around us, and then I am talking, I'm telling you everything, telling you I love you in between sentences but leaving out half of the yearnings, even though I think I do tell you I'd wish to be able to kiss you in front of people in the Great Hall.
Draco POV
His words seem true enough, I think, when he finally gets to talking, but how can I believe him? I want to, but I am afraid of hurting myself. A Malfoy should never hurt himself, that is what father taught me, a Malfoy should keep his best interests at heart. But screw father, really, as he is in Azkaban, rotting, so did he ever follow that rule himself?
When he stops talking, and he has been babbling quite a bit, has he not, I smile. It is not the smile I had for my friends at breakfast, but a real smile. And he smiles as well. Much more reserved a smile, his is, but a smile nonetheless.
I wish to just kiss him, but I assume he needs my words, needs me to tell him that his fears are unwarranted, his yearnings are to be fulfilled. Had I not thought that it was he who wished to keep this a secret, had he not thought it was I?
So I talk. I tell him that I do think, in fact, that I have fallen quite a bit in love with him. I tell him that I do not require secrecy, not really, even if I know what a field day it will be for the media to find out that we are an item. The Golden Boy and the son of the Death Eater, indeed.
And when I have told him all and some more, it is he who leaps, he who makes the move, and is kissing me. Telling me that this is enough and that maybe we should keep this between us for a while longer. Because he wants me, he wants me to be his and his only and he is not ready to share me yet. Not with our friends, albeit we both have our doubts they already know, and certainly not with the media.
And I must agree with him. I do want to keep him as just mine for a while longer.