Sincerity
R
A/N: The song 'Woman', by Maroon 5 probably didn't come out during or before 1998, when most of our dear main characters spend their last year at their magical school. Also, you may notice that the song 'Woman' is used in a slash fic, and the word being in inverted commas later in the middle. That's something to think about. We'll see how it goes, yeah? My first HP songfic.
Malfoy turns the dial up on the radio. This is not a bad song. The drums and bass start off the rhythm and then piano chords resonate in wave; it's a very, very groovy song, the type for couples to sit by the fire with a bucket of iced champagne.
He can't study at the moment because his mind is on something else entirely, on someone else. This song is not helping at all.
"If I be so inclined to climb up beside you,Would you tell me that the time just isn't right?"
It would be a typical thing for Harry to be telling him, "Not, here, not now," when all Draco wants to do is kiss and kiss and kiss him breathless and draw fingers across his skin. This song is making him think, of memories, of scenarios, of situations that are to be or might be.
The words make a picture flash in his mind. He and Potter are alone on a rooftop stargazing. They are the stars. He remembers that time, that first time they kissed with so much energy, passion, and fueled with doubt, it went no further because Potter thought it was too early for them to be doing things like that.
But love doesn't have any timeframes to abide by. That git.
"And if I ever find the key you hide so well,
Will you tell me that I can spend the night?"
Draco shifts in his chair. That's highly suggestive, he thinks, referring to the lyrics that are slipping into his mind. That's also a memory, he adds on a mental note. Harry Potter needs to be found and freed from a locked box, before anyone can ever be right enough to talk about his personality. Few people have done that, and he's one of them.
They had fought about Quidditch, then about their parents and their friends, and then Malfoy was too pissed to say anything more than a 'fuck you' before he reached for the doorknob. He didn't know what he was doing, it was his own room, but he was leaving. It seemed that everything he owned now belonged to the Gryffindor because he was hit hard in the heart by words Potter didn't intend to be so vicious.
Before his fingers even touched the cold metal, Harry had said,
"Stay."
And he did. After he was convinced by a meeting of lips with his, and an arm warm around his waist. Hands wandering. Tongues laving, breaths heavy, skin twitching, nerves burning, bed soft, cries loud---
He shivers.
"Leavin' your smell on my coat, leavin' your taste on my shoulder
I still fail to understand what it is about this woman---"
He turns it off. Draco's forgotten that not the entire world is a crazy homosexual like him. He sighs. It would have been perfect if 'woman' could be cut short to 'man'. It would then be a perfect song that described his feelings about Harry. It would make him think.
He writes a note and leaves it on his table before he leaves to find him.
If I could bottle up the chills that you give me
I would keep them in a jar next to my bed
Harry counts the number of days to an anniversary he'll never forget. Twenty-six days.
Something travels up his thighs, and it makes him uncomfortable for a moment. It's so very stupid; to be doing this, to take down things like these like a girl. He hated it. He hated a lot of things.
He hated being the bottom, he hated if he wasn't enough. He hated to see him leave, and he hated the way he made him feel about his life and his heart.
He being Draco, of course.
And if I should ever draw a picture of a 'woman'
It is you that would come flowing from my pen
Harry feels very vulnerable when things get serious. Things between he and Draco are very serious. But sometimes, he feels that vulnerable is okay because it leaves him exposed and open and free from secrets. Draco is perfect when he is vulnerable. He's the perfect image of truth and discovery, of deep thoughts and hard love.
Leavin' your clothes on the floor, making me walk out the door
And still I fail to understand what it is about this 'woman'
There are seven knocks on the door. Seamus and Dean have gone, leaving Harry very much alone. "Come in," he says in response, "the door is open."
Immediately, Draco enters, the swing of the door pushing wind past Harry's face. He drops his cloak to the floor. He sits next to Harry on his bed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back.
"I was think about you, and us, and what kind of shit we're in," the blonde says. He looks at the Gryffindor's hand curled over the edge of the bed. "...I figured that we've never been better."
Harry looks at Malfoy. He hasn't changed. He doesn't want anything to change. It's already so hard to sort him out now.
Helplessly melting as I stand next to the Sun
"How do you feel now?" the Slytherin questions softly. He presses his heel to the toe of his other shoe and it comes off. He does the same with the other foot.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but her," Harry replies, sincerity shining from jade irises.
"Good," Draco shifts, moving a hand over his partner's. "Good." He leans forward for a taste.
As she burns me I am screaming out for more
"Not enough," he whispers.
Potter hates that, so he gives more. And then he becomes vulnerable, open and free. His fingers start to pick at Draco's buttons, then loosen his belt. His own face is flush when his lover glides kisses across his cheek, to his chin, his neck,
Oh, Harry thinks, pulling harder at the other boy's clothes.
Drink every drop of liquid heat that I've become
The blood fires electricity into his veins as a hard, heavy breath burns at his throat, and the wet of a tongue touches his skin.
Oh, he thinks again.
Draco thinks of all these times they've been together. Countless, countless times that all the Professors on Earth would be horrified about. But this seems quite different, yes, it's like some kind of good feeling he gets now. It's as if Harry's finally learnt to accept everything that's going on, and he's comfortable. Everything is better when he's comfortable---
---Oh my, he thinks and whispers hotly into his lover's ear, when he feels hands reaching into his pants, caressing his hard flesh. Oh my. Harry's palm starts to work up and down.
Pop me open, spill me out onto the floor
All that's left now is their kissing and their touching, gripping of bedsheets, and careless moans and sighs from each other. In whirls of colours and monochromes, and final kisses, Draco suddenly realises that it's become more comfortable because it's love.
And love makes things better. It makes the vision of Harry licking his fingers from the side of his hand up, licking them clean from the milk white all the more tantalizing, so he can't help himself but reach forward, touch his own forehead to Harry's and let out an "I love you".
Harry says his back with a kiss.
Leavin' your smell on my coat, leavin' your taste on my shoulder
I still fail to understand, fail to understand
Draco not only understands, he embraces it. And he's got every reason to, because he's already sorted himself out in this way. He loves Harry, and nothing's going to stop them from loving each other.
He has never felt happier.
What it is about this 'woman'"Hey, where's Draco? He's supposed to be at training," Crabbe says.
Goyle spots a small piece of parchment under the ink bottle on Draco's desk. "What's this?"
'If you find that I'm missing for anything, I apologise. However, nothing's more important than my life, and my life is my love, therefore I have gone to see if my love will still love me back.
If you didn't get any of that, I'd just like you to know that I have gone looking for Harry Potter because I love him, and I don't give a fuck to what that world says.
Sincerely,Draco Malfoy,
Slytherin Prefect.'