Perfection
By- IceWind
Disclaimer: Isn't mine, if it was, Draco and Harry would have started snogging in the books by now… or at least when they turn 15 ^.~
Warnings: Slash, pwp, fluff… LOTS of fluff. So fluffy you can make a pillow out of it, heck, you can make an entire bed. Oh! And OOC, major OOC, but hell, this just popped in my head and I went all out with it. *pouts* Besides, it's in character with a couple who has been together for some time now… *sweatdrop* Anyway, it's kind of short as well, hehe.
Mmm… wrote this in two days (mostly because my mother made me get off the first time) One-shot… hn and here I thought I wasn't capable of writing them. *gives a self-satisfied smile* Err… this should tide people over waiting for the next chapter of my other fic ^^; Remember to review people ^___^
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You murmur softly, "Perfect…"
And I froze; the sheets whispering around me as you curl up by my side, dropping off into a hopefully dreamless sleep. Hopefully, because all there is to dream about lately is death and green light, of pain and sacrifice. And I wonder how could any of this be 'perfect'.
Perfection… what a load of bull. There isn't any such thing as perfection, it exists in dreams, in fairy tales, it never happens in real life. The mere word is a mockery, it makes you wish you were something you were not, it makes you believe something which isn't true. That stupid bastard Voldemort wants perfection… only his version of it.
Why that word? My mind quests for the answer, truly puzzled. He and I know that there could be no such thing between us, especially considering who we are, what we were expected to become. To say a word like that to describe the situation that we are in… that is truly naïve, and I wonder how you can even think of saying it.
Don't get me wrong, I love hearing your breathy sighs, those little sounds you make that are so utterly dear to me. I love the way your eyes flash when you are angry, the way you strive to overcome everything that is placed in your path. And I really do love the way you cuddle after a night of sex, pressing our bodies together, twining your limbs in mine. It is always you who initiate the actions, I cannot, but you forgive me…
Because it's hard, hard to show emotion, hard to be kind and loving and gentle when all I want to do is rage against the world, spitting out insults. They all expect things of you and me, so vastly different. You accept it, I cannot. How can you be so strong?
I'm the hesitant one, the one who has to think about these things before leaping into it. Some may think me impulsive, but on social matters… matters of the heart… I have to think and ponder and wonder and brood. You show emotion to me so easily, a quirky grin, a slightly raised brow, a simple smile set on your lips. It's hard for me, I grew up in a household, lived a life, with little to no loving emotion. You understand how overwhelming it all is to me, no matter how long we have been together.
But no matter how much you understand our predicament, there is always that sort of sad look in your eyes, the cling of melancholy that surrounds you at times when you think that you are alone. We understand the risks, too well in fact, we know what we must do, we know what we must keep quiet, what we must think and act. I grow tired of it, but I know you tire of it further.
Because you crave company, companionship, love… everything I give you freely, yet only when it is away from the prying eyes of others. Your childhood had been a harsh one, as harsh or harsher than mine, filled with cold words, mocking words, and cruel statements. They thought that you had it all, that you lived a perfect life, how utterly wrong that they are.
Why couldn't they see? Why couldn't they see the restlessness in your gaze, your drawn look when they mention your home? Why couldn't they notice how much you try to look and act strong, when it was obviously a façade to fool them? I grant you this, beloved, you are one hell of an actor.
So how can all of this be perfect?
I look over your slumbering form, then down at our hands which are laced together. A soft smile forms on my face, brief, but genuine. I adore your hair like this, so silky and soft, and utterly messy. I reached out with my other hand and lightly brushed a strand back, holding my breath as you just sigh and move closer, if that was even possible considering how entwined we are.
You are something to behold, beloved. I sigh and shake my head slightly, how I wished that this could last. In the summer we will be parted, back to the vehemence of our respective 'families'. We have to stay with them until… well, that was a topic we always shied away from, never talked about. Same with our friends, if we would ever be able to tell anyone else, our allegiances… At those thoughts I wince and sigh, louder this time.
Apparently too loud, I keep forgetting that you are as light a sleeper as I am, because you woke up, silver eyes clouded with sleep and love. Your voice rings through the silent air, soft and questioning, your hands coming up to rub your eye blearily.
"Harry?"
I smile and dip my head slightly and give you a light kiss, shuddering slightly when I felt a tingle sweep through me, after all of this time it has never disappeared. I chuckle softly when you just screw up your face in confusion. How different you act around me, Draco… Your voice once again sounds.
"Why are you still up?"
Ah, he was growing more awake… that wouldn't do. I gave a yawn, smiling, murmuring lightly.
"I was thinking… perfect, Draco?"
Perhaps I'm foolish for asking such a question, but he never disappoints, he never fails to dissect what I'm feeling. And he doesn't fail tonight.
"Nearly perfect then, go to sleep, Wonder Boy."
"Sure, Drake."
At my assent you give your usual aristocratic nod, snuggling down at my side, closing those beautiful eyes of yours. Perhaps what we have is not perfect, but… it is enough, more than many have. I am blessed and happy, I will live and die for you. Though we seem to be on different sides by others…
Then I close my eyes as well; arms curled around your warm body, smelling the scent of your hair, I always did love your hair… at least when it's not gelled. I smirk slightly at the thought, weariness descending down upon me, one last thought flitting through my mind before sleep claims me.
Not perfect, nearly perfect, but that doesn't matter. I have you and perfection be damned, I only need you.
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I'll keep this short: misled you on purpose, it makes some sense if you think about it. The End *bows*