A/N: A piece of promised fluff after the tragedy of 'Please Don't Ask Me." Enjoy.
Jamie
xxx
There's a lump in my throat and for an instant I'm glad that he's blind, so he cannot see the expression on my face. He's so beautiful, standing there, alone, quiet and almost serene in his solitude. For a long time, I watch him, his face lifted to the weak sun, eyes closed and a small smile upon his face. I could wonder what he's thinking, but I don't need to, I already know.
Autumn has been a special time for us, has become our favourite season. We fell in love on one of those perfect golden days. Late afternoon and the sun dipping low on the horizon casting that unique light over us. We were walking down an Avenue lined with trees coloured with all the hues of autumn leaves.
It was quiet, we were virtually alone amongst piles of fallen colour, swept into mounds by Council workers ready for collection, or burning. He turned to me with that look of mischief on his face, and a smile that spoke of laughter and cheek. In a fit of giggles, we took off kicking at the piles, spreading the leaves around everywhere, laughing, picking up huge handfuls and throwing them at each other until we were both exhausted and fell down in a heap.
We lay there for minutes, catching our breath just looking up at the clouds scudding past. The occasional chuckle broke through over the breathing that was the only sound for what seemed like miles. We felt like we were the only people on earth that day. When I eventually rolled over on my side to look at him, I smiled as he had pieces of leaf stuck in his hair that made him look like some garden sprite, beautiful, ethereal and unique…and mine.
That was the moment he chose to turn to look at me and as our eyes met, I knew. He was the one who had stolen my heart, and I didn't want it back, not ever. He told me later that he saw me fall in love with him, he saw it in my eyes. They always did say that I could never hide what I was feeling. I think he just knew me too well already by then. But he gave me a look that day that spoke volumes in response. I know. Me too.
Then he jumped to his feet, that impudent grin on his face and pulled me up and slipped into my arms like he was born there. He was still slightly breathless and flushed and looked so adorable that I wanted to kiss him into next week. He nuzzled into my neck and I could feel his warm breath laughing into my skin. "Carry me home, Harry," he whispered and licked a trail from my ear to my jaw. I laughed, because this was one of his favourite things.
He was on my back and we took off down the now leaf-strewn avenue. His arms were wrapped round my shoulders, legs clamped around my waist and his face alongside of mine, cheek to cheek. I had never thought about just how well our bodies fitted together, but even like this, him draped across my back, he moulded to me. We fit. I took him home and we made love all night.
It was a perfect day. Carefree and innocent.
The last perfect one before Draco's accident. I blame myself. He doesn't and I suppose that in reality it is not my fault. But if I had been there, maybe things might have been different. Zabini was sent to Azkaban for the curse that took Draco's eyesight. I should have been there. I was meant to be there. But, I wasn't. I give myself no excuses, no reasons, no valid ones anyway. I have to live with that every day of my life, just as Draco has to live with the fact that he cannot see. Even wizards cannot repair the sort of damage that was done to his eyes.
It wasn't easy, his recovery. He is Draco after all; spoilt rotten, obnoxious and vain before the accident, he spent months raging at the world, at me, at Zabini, at his situation. It was heartbreaking to watch and not be able to do anything. He was living in a dark hell and there was nothing I could do. When eventually, he decided that anything was better than living like that, he needed to learn a new way to see, to feel, to experience life. We made a game of it, adapting a Muggle child's game. Anything new that Draco needed to 'see', I'd say, "I spy with my little eye," and hand him the item or explain the situation to him. When he knew what it was, or understood what he needed to know, he would respond with, "I spy with my new eyes…" and we'd laugh together. Things are better now; these last years have been good to us, despite the pain of the past.
But I see now that the pale sun is slipping down quickly into sunset and the wind has picked up. It must be chilly outside though I can't feel it here in the kitchen. Dinner is almost ready anyway, and Draco is standing out there in only a shirt. After putting on my own coat and scarf, I head outside to stand beside my love. He hears me of course and I can see a ghost of a smile cross his face.
"It's getting cold," I say.
"Hmm, I know, I can feel it."
"You look happy out here. Remembering?"
He half turns to me and looks somewhere off over my shoulder and the pang in my heart still hurts even after all this time. I would give anything to have those eyes looking deep into mine, and have him see me, really see me. To see expression in them, to see that connection. But he gives me a tender smile and nods.
"Yes, don't I always when I come out here in Autumn? And you ask me that same question every time." There's a gentleness in his voice though, a soft teasing and I know he doesn't mind.
I lean in and kiss the corner of his cold lips and whisper, "I spy with my little eye, a cold Draco standing in the middle of the garden with barely anything on."
He laughs and the sound warms my heart. There's fingers at my coat and the zipper is being undone. Then his cold arms slide in around my waist and I can feel him shivering. "I spy with my new eyes, someone's boyfriend keeping that cold Draco warm." His words rumble in my chest and my arms wrap around him to warm as much of him as I can.
"That's not new," I laugh.
"No, but it's perfect."
And it is. We stand there for a long while, not talking, both lost in that perfect day, and setting ourselves another perfect memory. When the sun finally sets and I move to take us back indoors, Draco hangs on to me for a second longer, and feels around for my face, holding it in between the palms of his now warm hands.
"Carry me home, Harry."