Warning : slash no like no read
Disclaimer: you'd think it being on a fan sight no one would think me the owner, oh well NOT MINE.
Just a one-shot, I usually don't like this paring, but Lilly asked me too for her x-mass present
I asked my mother if she loved my father once. I wasn't very old, nine or ten maybe. She was bent over a letter in complete concentration.
"What, Draco dear?" She had said, not looking up.
"Do you love father?" I repeated, trying to act as grown up as possible. The question seemed to stun her for a moment and she remained quiet for several seconds. I quickly lost face under her gaze. I was ready to turn with out getting my answer.
"Why do you ask?" She said turning back to her letter.
"Because father said love wasn't real." My mother froze, I though I had crossed the line and wished nothing but to leave.
"Love is real child." She said more sternly then I had ever seen her. "Do you understand?" She looked so mad that for a second I was to scared to move or talk. My mother never got mad. It was Father who had the temper. My mother would just sit their, showing no emotion. I had never seen her in such a way. It shook me more then I still care to admit.
She then turned and griped the table. I was still stunned.
"Draco. Love is real, and you will know it when you feel it."
I was too young to understand at that point, It wasn't until I was older that I relished how much my Mother truly loved my father. He had never returned the love, or even affection. But my mother was a proud woman. She would never admit how much he hurt her, or even show her love for him. In hiding that love she also blocked out anything that might have been real love for me. I don't blame her, yet I wish sometimes that I could have known a parent's love. But this lack of affection is just another reason for me to hate my father. You always said that hate was a poison and by hating my father his memory was winning. You were right. So was my mother.
I knew love when I felt it. No mater how long it took me to admit it. I have always loved you. I was just too proud and ashamed of my sexuality to ever tell you, or anyone. I regret that now. I wish I would have told you long before I did. I spent time making you think I hated you so you wouldn't figure it out. We could have been together in that time. Instead I wasted it, convincing everyone that I wasn't gay. Ironic. Then again, it was you I was in love with. I guess that makes me the king of irony. Imagine my surprise when you not only didn't hate me but returned my affections? It only took us seven years to admit it to each other. It took us much longer to admit it to the others.
They were all shocked, but we hade expected that. The hate was what we weren't prepared for. We had to start filtering our mail after receiving that poisonous howler came form that girl. Your friends even took it harder then we'd imagined. Hermione had to talk to Ron for almost an hour. It's been incredibility awkward with him since. That's one of my biggest regrets. The hole between you, Ron and Hermione deepened the closer that you and I got.
Those were the best years of my life. The dark lord was dead and we both young and in love. We had nothing better to do then stay in your apartment and make love. It was during that time that I got to know your body better then I did mine. I knew ever scar, every freckle. I knew where you were ticklish and what to do to what spot to make you cry out with pleasure. You knew my body as well. It always surprised me how reactive I was to your touch. How you could turn me on with a look or smile.
I got to know you to. I told you everything, you had all of me and I trusted you with it all. You confided in me too. I learned about all of you. Fears, hopes, pains, love. I had come to know you better then I had ever known anyone. You were my world. I had no one else. My father was in Askaban, and my mother was dead. You were also alone. Ron had become nervous around you. Hermione was there, but she was married to Ron and didn't come to see you that often. I loved our time together in that little apartment. The quickies in the mornings, breakfast, a quickie in the shower, what ever we wanted, then bed. Bed was my favorite time with you. Touching under the sheets. I loved the way your body curved to mine. I loved how you were smaller then me, you hated it. I always used to tease you about that, I teased you a lot. I was in heaven, but we both knew that it wouldn't last. We needed money.
Our lives got busy. We were both working for the ministry. Even if they were reluctant to hire me because of my father, you did wonderfully. They loved you there. I was less….um… trusted? I didn't like it there, and they didn't like me. So when you were promoted I quit and stayed home. That was a blow to my pride. I'm sorry I was like that, I was just mad because you were providing for everything, buying and moving to the huge house didn't help. I regret how easily agitated I was with you. Snapping at you and ridiculing every move you made, I was so stupid. It was my fault you threw your self in to work like that, devoting as much time as you could to avoid coming home. I see that now, and once again I'm sorry for shortening our time together.
I died the morning you came home from a night shift. I was sitting in the kitchen when you walked in, made toast, ate it, and left without speaking or even looking at me. That's when I saw what I had done. I had stormed in to our bed room, you were dressing, Tears were runing down my face.
"You could at least yell at me!" I shouted. You looked stuned.
"I-I'm Sorry?"
"No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for acting like a idiot, I love you."
"I love you."
We had made love for 3 and a half hours that day, and spent the entire weekend in the bed, how did you put it? Exploring each other.
I don't know why or when I remembered what my mother had said, but one day I just did. I was lying on our bed watching you in the bathroom. The door was open and I could see you, standing in front of the sink in your boxers. I was enchanted, watching you brush your teeth, carefully shaving your cheeks and chin. I remember because I had made some teasing comment about how the hairs had tickled my neck. I watched as you hopelessly ran a comb through your hair, shaking your head slightly. I loved the way your lips pursed when your hair didn't stay down, I loved that sound you make when I kiss your collar bone, I loved the way you pull me to dance with you in the kitchen as we make dinner. I love that adorable sleepy yawn you do in the mornings. My mother was right- Love was real. I loved every part of you. I still do. Thirty years after I married you I still can't get enough of you. Even if your jet black hair is streaked with gray at the temples, and we don't make love as often as we used to. We touch more then ever- I still love holding you, your sent, the way your hips curve. Harry Potter, I will always love you.