Disclaimer: The characters are not my own. But you already know that. Carry on.
Warnings: Some angst, fluff. Pre-slash/slash. Set in 8th year.
AN: I wrote this while listening to Nickelback's song Don't Ever Let it End, so some of the lyrics are incorporated in the story.
The blue sky and calm surface of the lake lay beyond Harry, who sat with his back against a large gnarly tree. He supposed he should be working on his essay, but his eyes kept straying to the blonde sitting next to him. He mentally groaned, once again finding himself distracted, and swiftly brought his eyes back to his school work. He hadn't written so much as a word, and it was due tomorrow. He chanced another glance at Draco, who dutifully bent down over his parchment, quill scratching across the page.
Harry let out another mental groan. His friend hadn't stopped writing since they began their study session, and this fact grated at him. He must not feel the same.
Yet Harry would swear that Draco felt it too. Sometimes, in the silences, the too-long-looks, in the way the air seemed charged with electricity when they sat too close or their skin came in contact, he thought he felt something like mutual attraction. But he was so afraid to ask. It had been a long uphill battle to turn a boyhood rivalry into a friendship after the events of the war, and even harder for their friends and members of their respective houses to adjust to it. Now that things were finally in place, he didn't want to risk everything he had gained. But I'm so tired of pretending.
Closing his eyes, Harry leaned further back into the tree, attempting to clear his mind. But the way the light breeze drifted Draco's sent towards him – something like a combination of oranges and cinnamon and old spice – and the scratch scratch of the quill and the way that their arms were almost touching distracted him. Scowling, he shook his head, feeling the rough bark on the back of his head. I never did get the hang of Occulmency.
He turned back to his homework, mutely berating himself. But looking at the blank sheet of parchment, he could only think of the blonde boy beside him. Giving into his obsession, he began to write.
I like the way his hair shines in the sunlight. I like it when he smiles. I like it even more when he smiles at me. I like the way he smells. I like it when he holds me when I can do nothing but succumb to the tears. I like that he made an effort to respect and get to know Ron and Hermione. I like that the only person that he fully lets past his walls is me. I like that he indulges my hopes for the future. I like that he pushes me to try different foods. I like that he is my friend. But I want –
"Harry?"
Draco's voice broke though Harry's thoughts and he started. "Bloody hell, you startled me!"
"Scared, Potter?" The Slytherin smirked, his tone teasing.
Leaving the sentence in his essay unfinished, Harry flashed a grin at his friend, glancing into his eyes then looking away. "You wish."
"How far did you get with Sprout's essay?"
"Oh, about halfway though," Harry lied. "You?"
Draco looked away from Harry, shifting nervously. "Actually…I didn't write anything."
Harry felt a jolt of shock. "What?! But you were doing nothing but write!"
Draco looked like he wanted to say something, but the silence stretched on while Harry looked at the other boy disbelievingly. Finally, after a long moment, the blonde boy slowly held out a sheet of parchment covered in writing. After an equally long moment, in which Harry tried to decipher the look in Draco's eyes, the parchment changed hands.
Harry broke eye contact, looking down at Draco's words.
Do you remember that day? That day you first let me see you cry? I held you, held you as you broke down completely, shedding tears for the ones you missed. And as I stroked your hair, your tear-stained face pressing into my chest, I realized that I love you. And while I've known gender isn't a factor for me when falling in love, I'd never thought I'd fall for you. But since the war, we've grown, we've changed, changed enough for us to set aside our differences and leave the past behind. Becoming friends with you was unexpected and is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I value our friendship more than anything else. That's why I'm so afraid to admit to you that I've fallen in love with you; I don't want this to end. Should you reject me I fear my heart would shatter and refuse to mend. But I'm tired of pretending –
Harry found himself trying to catch his breath. He tore his eyes away from the parchment, although there was still more than half a page left to finish, and met Draco's gaze. The blonde boy stared at Harry, his emotions painted all over his face, for once seeming to forget the calm mask he normally wore.
Harry stared back, knowing his expression matched Draco's. Wordlessly he handed over his own parchment, filled not with his Herbology essay, but with reasons why he loved the other boy.
Draco took the essay, his face now showing curiosity, and began to read. Harry watched, tension curled in the pit of his stomach. The blonde boy seemed to have remembered his mask; his emotions were unreadable as his eyes moved back and forth, examining Harry's words.
At long last, grey eyes met Harry's anxious gaze. "I want - ?"
Draco's questioning tone slowly invaded the dark-haired boy's mind, and it took him a moment to remember his essay's unfinished sentence. Harry blushed slightly, then steeled himself.
"I want to be your boyfriend," he confessed in a low but fierce tone, emerald green never wavering from stormy grey.
Draco's eyes pinned Harry's, and a soft hand slowly rested on his cheek. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Harry's breath caught. This felt so incredibly good, and so right. He took Draco's free hand in his own, softly rubbing his thumb into the blonde's palm, feeling gratified to hear a slight groan.
That sound tore away at Harry's remaining restraint. With a low noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, he moved forward, crossing the lingering distance between them in a heartbeat's time and pressed his lips to Draco's. The other boy eagerly kissed back, licking Harry's lips with his tongue not asking a question but instead demanding more, needing more, and Harry required no other urging. Opening his mouth to admit Draco's tongue, he reciprocated the gesture, swallowing the blonde's half moan in the process. Tangling further into one, coherent thoughts completely lost, each boy pulled the other closer any way they could.
Sometime later, they found themselves in a heap in the grass a few trees away from where they had started, Draco draped across the dark-haired boy's chest. Breathing heavily, Draco lazily trailed light kisses on Harry's chest. He didn't remember removing Harry's robes or shirt – or his own, for that matter – but thrilled in the feel of skin on skin contact.
"Draco." Harry spoke softly, wonderment and contentment and a slight question coloring his tone.
Draco shifted slightly to meet his Gryffindor's eyes, raising his eyebrow in acknowledgement of the question.
"Don't ever let it end?"
And Draco heard the raw vulnerability, partly disguised with a flippant tone, but still there, and understood Harry's need for reassurance, because he needed to know the same thing, that this wouldn't be just an experiment, just practice; that this would be more than teenage hormones looking for an outlet.
Leaning forward until his mouth brushed against Harry's ear, the blonde boy whispered, "There's nothing that could ever let this end."
Relief colored Harry's face. Turning his head to look at Draco, he touched the other boy's cheek, gently dragging his fingers over smooth skin. "I want…"
And Draco could see the question in Harry's eyes, knew what he wanted, what he was asking. Not wanting to break the spell of the moment with words, he instead answered with his eyes and his touch, and felt himself slipping into bliss as Harry moaned with desire under his fingers. "Don't stop," he panted.
Draco smiled down at him, his fingers now swiftly unbuckling a belt. "I won't ever let this end," he breathed back.
Pulling Draco into another kiss, this time urgent and filled with desire and hope for their future, was Harry's only response.
~fin~