A/N: All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you. The feedback from the last chapter was amazing, I'm so happy you're all enjoying this story so much! I think this is the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for so here you go! Chapter nine, hope you love it.
True to his word, Draco had returned home that night only about an hour after Harry had left. They had both made small talk, tip-toeing expertly around the issues that were so clearly on both of their minds, and went to bed.
The next few days were blissfully uneventful, and both men were grateful for the monotony. It gave them each time that they so desperately needed to organize their thoughts and get their lives in order. Harry had shown Draco the Quidditch pitch, and the blond spent almost every spare minute there, flying from the time he woke up until the time Harry went to get him for dinner, practicing in hopes of being ready to join his team again soon. Things at Harry's job were finally slowing down after he had stepped in and given everyone the direction that they desperately needed, and Seamus' face finally returned to its usual pallor, rather than the perpetual frustrated red it had been stuck at while Harry was away.
Overall, Harry couldn't complain. Draco had finally stopped putting up such a fight, at least for the time being, and their relationship was the best it had been since Draco came home from the hospital. The two ate breakfast together every morning and dinner every night. They chatted about work and Quidditch and news from the Daily Prophet, and managed to settle into a somewhat comfortable routine.
Even with all of the latest improvements in his life, Harry still felt like there was a boulder weighing heavily on his chest at all times. A huge piece of him was missing. He didn't want to wave goodbye to his husband every morning before he left for work, he wanted a proper kiss. He didn't want to tell Draco goodnight and then grab his clothes and make a bed on the couch, he wanted to hold his husband close with Draco's head on his chest, and he wanted to tell him over and over how much Harry loved him. The problem was that while Draco didn't cringe at the sight of him anymore, he doubted they had the same interests in mind. Harry wanted to move their relationship along, but didn't know how to without risking a major setback in all of the progress that they made.
So naturally, he decided to do what he always did when he had a problem he just couldn't figure out on his own. He turned to his best friends. Since Draco was still at the Quidditch pitch, Harry jotted a quick note and left it on the coffee table in the living room explaining where he was before leaving for Ron and Hermione's home.
His friends were much less helpful than he could have ever anticipated. After he explained his situation in detail, Hermione was the first to give him an idea that he couldn't have disliked more.
"Harry, he's still fragile. It would be a very bad idea to try to be anything more than his friend right now," she told him sympathetically.
"Have you forgotten the part where we're already married? How am I supposed to only be his friend when he's already my husband?" Harry asked, exasperated.
"Because in his mind," Hermione reminded him, "he's not really your husband. I know he's being more cooperative than usual, and I don't mean to be cruel, but that's probably just because he knows he won't remember anything if he doesn't go along with it. I doubt he actually feels as though he's married."
Ron perked up and joined in, "And that's why I think Harry's right. It's time for him to make a move! How is Draco supposed to fall in love with you again if you're just the bloke that he eats two meals a day with? You have to do something," he insisted, ignoring Hermione's disapproving glare.
"Like what?" Harry asked, finally liking the direction the conversation was heading in.
The redhead leaned forward and his ears turned a bright shade of pink. "What gets him, you know… Excited?"
Hermione and Harry both balked at him. "Ron!" they shouted simultaneously.
"That's private, I'm sure," Hermione reprimanded her husband.
"It is," Harry agreed. "It's kind of just between me and him."
Ron tried again, undeterred by either of them. "Oh, c'mon, mate. We won't tell a soul. And we promise we won't judge you! This is purely to help us help you."
Hermione stared at her husband for a long moment before shrugging and turning to Harry. "He has a point, I suppose. It couldn't hurt."
Harry turned bright red before staring down at his hands in his lap. "Well… He likes being tickled."
Ron couldn't help letting out a quick snort before slapping his hand over his mouth.
"Being tickled?" Hermione asked skeptically. "That's…"
"So weird, mate," the redhead finished for her.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "What happened to not judging?" he asked, face still beet red.
Ron held his hands up in defense. "Sorry, mate. Just wasn't expecting that. But in all seriousness, though, if that works for you, you should try it."
"You think I should tickle him? Seriously?" Harry asked, unsure of whether or not his best friend was still just messing with him or not.
"Yes, seriously. If it works, then that's awesome. And if it goes horribly wrong, well, what do you have to lose?" Ron shrugged and Hermione grabbed his hand in support.
"He's right, Harry. I still don't think you should push him into anything so fast, but maybe you could trigger a memory or something. You'll never know if you don't try."
An hour later, Harry was thanking his friends for their advice and heading to the Quidditch pitch to get Draco for dinner, torn between being excited to make the next move and dreading his reaction. He immediately looked upwards to find him, but his husband was nowhere to be found. The moment that he turned to look around the field, his heart skipped a beat.
Draco was sitting in the middle of the field, broomstick thrown carelessly several feet away from him, covering his face with his hands.
"Draco?" Harry called cautiously, not wanting to startle him. It didn't seem to work, as the blond jumped to his feet and whipped around before Harry had managed to take two steps onto the field. "Everything alright?" he asked, walking closer to the blond.
"I'm fine," he answered too quickly, eyes shining bright under the lights lining the field.
Harry reached out as if to grab his hand, but after remembering Hermione's warnings about moving too quickly, thought better of it, letting his hand drop uselessly to his side. "Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything."
Draco stared at Harry, then down at his dejected broomstick. "I don't remember how to fly," he answered quietly.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. "I see you flying all the time."
"Yeah, but not like I used to, when I was with the Falcons," Draco all but whined. "I kind of thought that I would just be great automatically, since I'm apparently the best seeker they've had in a decade. Even though I can't remember the last five years, I thought my body might. Muscle memory and all that. But I'm only as good as I was in school, like the past years of training never even happened."
"It'll come in time, Draco," Harry reassured him. "You're recovering from a major injury, and working as hard as humanly possible. You'll get back to it in no time."
Draco groaned and bent over, pushing his palms into his knees and squeezing his eyes shut. "But what if I don't?"
"Come on, Draco, don't think like that," the brunet insisted, hesitating before putting a hand on his back. The man stiffened under his touch but didn't totally freak out or push him away, which Harry took as a good sign. He started rubbing soothing circles between his husband's broad shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath his hands start to slowly relax. Harry bit his lip nervously and decided that now was as good a time as ever to apply Hermione and Ron's advice. He let his hands start trailing down his back, still rubbing small circles.
'Now or never' he told himself, maneuvering his hands to grab the blond's extremely ticklish waist. As soon as his fingers brushed the area, Draco was immediately alert, standing up straight and jumping a foot back in alarm.
"What the hell was that, Potter?" Draco exclaimed, eyes wide.
Harry turned away, embarrassed and frustrated. "Nothing, sorry, I'm sorry, just forget it." He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself. It didn't work.
"Was that..." Draco sighed and crossed his arms, seeming just as frustrated as Harry was, and stepped a bit closer to his husband. "Was that one of our things?"
The brunet waved a hand, still refusing to meet his husband's eyes. "Yeah, sort of. But don't worry about it, it'll all come back to you. We just have to keep on doing what we're doing."
A long silence followed, and Harry was just about to apparate home when he felt a touch on the back of his hand. He turned to face Draco, whose eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he examined Harry closely, from his shaking hands to the muscle twitching in his jaw to his suspiciously red, watery eyes.
"I'm sorry I don't remember," Draco told him with all of the sincerity he could muster up, keeping a few fingers just barely touching the back of Harry's hand.
Harry blinked several times, trying to clear his blurry vision. He just barely resisted the urge to pinch himself to see whether or not he was dreaming. "That's the first time you have ever told me you're sorry. About anything. Ever. And you almost blew up our house once."
Draco scowled and looked away. "Well don't get used to it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry answered. He hesitated before asking, "Are you coming home for dinner?"
Draco nodded before glancing at his broomstick and then back to Harry. "But first," he walked over to the middle of the field and picked up his broomstick, hopping on and hovering several feet off the ground, flying back to Harry and flying in slow circles around him. "Fly with me."
Harry stared at him and echoed, "Fly with you?"
The blond came to a stop right in front of him. "Yes, Potter. I assume you still have a broomstick? Use it."
Harry watched his husband fly up and zoom down the field. Even though tickling Draco hadn't really triggered anything or done what he intended it to, he still felt as though it worked, somehow.
"Accio broomstick," he mumbled, flicking his wand before putting it back into his pocket. He watched Draco fly around while he waited for it, and less than a minute later his broomstick came flying over the stands and landed directly in his outstretched, waiting hands. It had been a while since he flew but the moment he was up in the air it felt like he had never even left.
He started off slow and easy, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his hair and the fading sun on his back. He looked around, finding his husband watching him expectantly from about ten feet above him. He flew straight up to meet Draco and grinned.
"Now what?" Harry asked.
"Now we race, of course," Draco answered quickly. "First one to finish five laps wins. Ready, set…" before Harry could even figure out what was happening, Draco was speeding away down the field, leaving the brunet staring dumbly after him.
Harry started after him quickly, laughing. "You cheated!" he shouted, catching up to him before they finished their first lap.
"What was that, Potter? Can't hear you over the sound of me kicking your arse!" he yelled back, grinning. The two were neck and neck as they reached a lap and a half, and Harry realized with a start that if he wanted to, he could win. Draco had always been so much faster than him, but today, he was only going about half of his usual speed. With one last push, Harry could win for sure. But the memory of seeing Draco curled up in a ball, worrying about whether he would ever be able to be good enough to re-join his team was enough to make him hang back, letting Draco take the clear lead as they made their next few laps and crossed the finish line.
Draco turned around and frowned, "I won," he stated. He wasn't nearly as out of breath as he usually was after flying.
Harry nodded. "You did. Don't get used to it, though, I'll win for sure next time."
The blond stared at Harry curiously, as if he was trying to solve a tricky Arithmancy problem that he couldn't quite figure out.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked. He thought that winning would give Draco the confidence boost he needed, but the blond just seemed more confused than excited.
Draco shook his head and smirked, just the most subtle upturning of the corner of his mouth. "You really love me, don't you?" he asked Harry, staring straight into the man's bright green eyes.
The question caught Harry off guard, making his eyes widen slightly, but he nodded. "Yeah, I really do."
After a moment of silence, Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to ask me how I know?"
"How do you know?"
"Because you let me win. The old Harry never would have done that for me." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco cut him off and continued, "I wasn't even going full speed, and I know you weren't either. So I want a re-match, fair and square. No holding back for either of us, alright?"
Harry grinned and agreed. "Okay, no holding back."
Draco nodded and prepared himself. "Ready… set… go!"
The men shot off like lightning, and this time it was obvious both of them were flying to their best ability. They were neck and neck, and every time one of them would muster up all of their strength and give themselves the extra burst of speed they were sure would help them win, the other caught up within seconds.
They were twenty feet from the finish line and Draco glanced at Harry, who looked determined, but definitely worn out. He grinned and used all of his remaining energy to hurtle himself across the finish line, just seconds before his husband could do the same.
Draco laughed and pumped his fist in the air as they lowered themselves to the ground, landing and tumbling to the ground, exhausted and content. They laid side by side, keeping a respectable amount of distance between them.
"I guess you didn't need to let me win the first time after all. I'm clearly better than you all on my own," Draco grinned.
Harry laughed. "Yeah, well maybe if l had a head injury and got to stay home from work and just fly around all day I'd be as good as you are, too," he teased, nudging Draco with his elbow.
"I'd be more than willing to make that happen, Potter," he joked, pulling out his wand and waving it in the air playfully. Harry laughed and Draco's arms fell to his sides as a comfortable silence fell over them. A few minutes had passed just staring up at the sunset when Draco added thoughtfully, "You used to be better than me in school. I never won a game against you."
"Well, things change," Harry shrugged, turning to meet his husband's gaze.
Draco thought back to his school days, and the Harry that he used to know. The one that had refused his friendship when they were eleven. The one who was so self-absorbed that the only time he ever even made eye contact with Draco was when he was being insulted or hexed. The one who thought that he was so much better than Draco and all of his friends. Looking at the man he was lying next to now, it was almost impossible to see any similarities. Harry was still fiercely loyal and protective as ever, but that seemed far less annoying now that he was on the receiving end. He was patient and had shown Draco nothing but kindness, even when he was being less than gracious. He was unsure of himself at times, and his entire world seemed to revolve around Draco, to the point where he missed work several times just to make sure his husband wasn't feeling lonely or sad. A rush of gratitude filled Draco, a feeling he wasn't quite used to.
"Yeah," Draco answered, "they really do." And then before he even knew what he was doing he was reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers against the side of Harry's hand. Harry, purely out of reflex, flipped over his hand and grabbed Draco's hand, entwining their fingers together.
Suddenly the atmosphere changed completely as they explored territory that was completely new to Draco. Harry waited for the hand in his grasp to pull away and slap him or something of the sort, but it never happened. Instead, they continued to lay there, hands joining them together beneath the rapidly descending sun, watching each other and listening to the frantic beating of their own hearts.
Harry couldn't help himself as he hoisted himself up onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow. He regretfully pulled his hand out of Draco's grasp, and instead placed it on the side of the blond's face.
Draco knew what was coming as Harry dragged the back of his knuckles down the side of his cheek, then traced the line of his jaw back up to his ear before his hand tangled itself in his messy blond hair. His heart was racing as Harry lowered himself slowly, waiting to see if Draco would object. He paused when his lips were about an inch from Draco's own, giving him one last chance to do something to stop him. Even if Draco had wanted to say something, he wouldn't have been able to, considering how dry his mouth and throat had suddenly become.
And then a moment later, Harry closed the gap between them. As his eyes slid shut, Draco realized with a startling clarity the he was kissing his husband, the savior of the entire wizarding world, Harry Potter. And that he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. Draco dropped his wand, which he just realized he was still holding, and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of the brunet's neck, drawing him even closer.
Harry's kiss was sweet and gentle, as if he was still a little afraid of Draco pushing him away. But the pressure of Harry's lips on his own and the scent of his husband was giving Draco a sense of déjà vu. It wasn't exactly drawing up any memories, but it was familiar and comfortable, as though he had done this hundreds of times before. Which, he supposed, he had.
After an indiscernible amount of time, Harry drew back. Draco felt like he was in a dream. Like he would open his eyes and Harry would be gone and he would realize he just imagined everything that had just happened. But when his eyes fluttered open, Harry was still hovering close above him, blinking rapidly, his entire face contorted as if he was in pain.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked.
Harry blinked again and shook his head, swallowing hard before answering, "I don't think you understand how much I've missed you. Or how much I love you."
Draco took in the pain in Harry's eyes, flashing back once again to how he looked on their wedding day. He felt Harry's pulse racing beneath his thumb and listened to his labored breathing and felt his own breath hitch.
"I think I do," he answered quietly.
Harry didn't hesitate before closing the space between them once again, finally feeling whole for the first time in a month.
