September, 1998
"Harry?"
There was a banging noise as the voice sounded from the doorway outside.
"Harry, are you in there?"
Harry stirred slightly, opening his eyes a crack to see daylight pouring in from the window in the study, illuminating Malfoy's pale head as Harry rested against his chest. He looked so peaceful like that, his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly, his body rising and falling with each breath, almost perfectly in sync with Harry's own breathing. Harry traced a finger against Malfoy's bare skin, still unsure what could have woken him up at this hour, but deciding it must have been a car backfiring, or a disturbance from one of the adjacent homes on the block, Harry nestled back into Draco's warm body and began to fade back to sleep. Draco mumbled something against his head, adjusting their embrace to press his nose into Harry's messy, black hair.
They lay like this for several moments until the noise came again, completely unmistakable this time.
"Look, I know you're home. You left the lights on. Just… Answer the door."
The two jumped up from the couch as fast as they could, both of them realizing at the same time that there was someone knocking on Harry's door, and they were trapped in the study with their clothes in the other room. There was an unmatched look of terror upon Draco's face.
"Who is that?" he whispered loudly, so as not to be heard by the visitor.
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. It's Ron."
Harry raked his hands through his hair in stress before darting over to the dresser in the corner to see what spare clothes he could find, as he had now moved most of his possessions to the bedroom upstairs. He pulled out a T-shirt and sweatpants, throwing them to Malfoy, and then found an old, rumpled school button-up for himself and a pair of jeans that he had outgrown ages ago. Draco had scurried to grab their wands and dripping wet clothes from the entryway, and had darted back into the study within a couple of seconds.
"Do you want me to leave?" He asked in a frantic whisper, tugging the shirt over his bare torso.
"No," Harry said, taking his wand from Malfoy. "No, just stay here. I'll see what he wants, and I'll make sure that he doesn't come into the study. Just… Don't go anywhere." He was struggling to zip up the jeans that were now chafing uncomfortably into his stomach.
"Harry, I'm not leaving until you come out!" Ron's voice continued from outside. Harry rolled his eyes, trying to adjust his sleeves to make this shirt seem as though it had been chosen intentionally.
By the time he had made it to the front door, Ron was already using an alohomora charm to let himself in.
"Oi, I'm home!" Harry said, trying his best not to sound as irritated as he was. "You didn't have to break into my house, mate."
"It wasn't breaking in," Ron said, looking rather sheepish as he tucked his wand away into his pants. "It was a wellness check." His ears were a bright shade of red, as they often became whenever he was put in an uncomfortable situation.
"Wellness check? What do you mean?"
"Oh, come off it," Ron said, smiling as though Harry had to know what he was talking about. "You got sent home, nobody has seen or heard from you since Tuesday, you didn't check into St. Mungo's for that course yesterday like you were supposed to."
"I wasn't planning on doing that in the first place," Harry said honestly. "I'm fine, Ron."
"Then why didn't you answer my owls? I sent you three letters, I tried flooing in here several times yesterday, but you weren't around."
Harry sighed, not even knowing what excuse to provide for himself.
"I'm sorry, Ron. I really am, I've just been busy."
"Doing what?" Ron asked, taking off his shoes and walking into the house. "Also, what the fuck are you wearing?"
Harry tried to block the entrance to the kitchen as much as he could; as soon as Ron went to grab a butterbeer, this would turn into a couple hours of Ron hanging around, watching television or playing on the muggle Nintendo that Harry had bought as soon as he had moved into his own place. He couldn't hide Malfoy away for that long, especially since most of his video games were on the shelf in the study.
"Just... something comfortable. I found these when I was cleaning the other day," he said, motioning to the faded denim of the pants he had just barely been able to squeeze his arse into.
"They look like the opposite of comfortable," Ron chuckled, trying to move past Harry, who dodged so he wouldn't go into the kitchen. "Also, since when do you clean?" he glanced down at the puddles of water left in the entryway from the clothes that Draco had hastily removed moments ago.
"I clean," Harry said rather unconvincingly, not providing any more of an explanation.
"You're acting weird," Ron stated, a puzzled look on his face. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Harry said, knowing that he was a rubbish liar, especially to his best mate. "It's like I said, I've just been cleaning. Going through my old things, tidying this place up a bit. God knows it needs it."
"No you're not," Ron said simply, trying again to edge his way into the kitchen, only to be blocked by Harry as he leaned against the doorway in what was surely the most forced casual pose he had ever assumed. To Harry's horror, he noticed the two coffee mugs that had been left on the kitchen table from the day before, which were sitting right within Ron's line of vision.
Ron's eyes suddenly widened, and his face broke out into a gigantic grin. "Wait!" He exclaimed, and Harry was immediately regretting the fact that he had interfered with Ron's path to the butterbeer. "You have a girl over, don't you!"
Well, this wasn't ideal, but it would work.
"Keep your voice down!" Harry hissed, holding a finger against his mouth. "Why the hell would you think something like that?"
"Because you're acting really cagey, Harry. Like, someone who is definitely hiding something cagey. And you're dressed like a git."
"Cheers, mate."
"Did she pick that outfit for you? Who is she? Is she a fan?"
"Is she a fan?" Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Ron, stop being ridiculous."
"What?! It's not that crazy, right? You can just pick them up at the Leaky and take them back with you for the night, everyone knows who you are there, you're single, you're a hot commodity now..."
"She's not…" Harry pressed two fingers against his temple. This was getting out of control.
"Look," Harry continued, knowing full well that Malfoy was probably on the other side of the study door laughing his arse off. "If I tell you there's a girl here, will you give us some space? I really don't want to make any introductions, and I'm honestly not too sure I remember her name."
That was enough to grant him a couple quiet, worry-free afternoons, surely.
"You dirty dog," Ron laughed, clapping him on the back. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?" He had stepped jauntily back into the entryway, sliding his shoes back on his large feet. "Send her my best regards. And tell her if she really fancies you in tight pants, I have some old worn out things I'd be happy to send your way."
"Thanks, Ron," Harry smiled weakly, a burden being lifted off his chest as Ron walked closer to the door.
"Oh Harry, I almost forgot, do you have my broom maintenance spellbook? I was going to tune up my Cleansweep this weekend and play a match with Dean and Seamus."
"Er, no. I actually think I might have let Ginny borrow it." That was also a lie. The book was on the shelf in his study right next to Harry's video games, and Ron had surely seen it there loads of times.
"Are you sure? I could have sworn you had it last time I was over here."
"Nope," Harry continued, looking directly at the ground. "Ginny's had it for ages. You should run home and ask her."
Ron fixed Harry with a mischievous, discerning smile.
"She's in the study, isn't she?" he cocked an eyebrow, clearly thinking he had won whatever silly game this was that they were playing. "If you needed privacy you could have just answered my owl, mate."
"Fine," Harry sighed, his heart rate picking back up as he surrendered to Ron's prying antics. "I need privacy. Okay? I'll drop off the book next time I'm around the ministry."
Ron grinned, appearing to be very proud of himself.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Piss off," Harry retorted, grinning in spite of himself. He was finally ushering Ron out the door, and was about to bid his friend goodbye when Ron turned around, his long arms propping him against the frame of the doorway.
"Hey, I know we're having a laugh and all that, but really, if you're needing to talk to someone you always have me. You know that, right?"
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said, trying his best not to rush his friend out the door. He wondered how much had spread around throughout the ministry of his meeting with Kingsley. Was everyone talking about him collapsing during training behind his back now? Was he the laughing stock of the whole division?
"I'm not just saying that, either. You can come to me about anything - I understand this stuff better than most people. Hell, we both went through some of the same traumatic bullshit back in June, after everything was over. There are people who want to help, mate. We care about you."
"I know, Ron." Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes and allowing his shoulders to drop. "I know. I think right now, I really just need some space."
Some space to sort out why the fuck he was having sex with Draco Malfoy, and hiding thousands of galleons worth of illegal drugs in his living room. It might take a bit more than some space to figure that out.
"Duly noted," Ron responded, pushing himself off of Harry's door frame and swinging his arms backwards playfully. "Also, just go to therapy. All right? They're not going to let you back until you do that."
Something within Harry snapped at these words, and he suddenly didn't care about maintaining civility for the sake of friendliness.
"I don't need therapy, Ron. I just need people to stop telling me what I fucking need."
He had been a bit harsh, he thought, as he saw the look on Ron's face when he had said his piece. He knew that Ron was just trying to help, but he was just another person telling Harry what he had to do, instead of asking him what he wanted. It wasn't like he hadn't given the whole therapy matter any thought. There was no way any ministry sanctioned healer would be able to sort out everything he was going through, not unless they killed Voldemort and were single-handedly responsible for the deaths of countless individuals in the final battle. It was laughable to think that any amount of therapy could heal some of the deeper emotional scars left by the war. Not only that, but he wasn't yet prepared to go through and relive all of the year's past trauma with someone when he was just now getting the nightmares to stop.
"Right, I'll back off," Ron said, putting his arms up defensively. "You don't have to be a prick about it."
Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes in frustration.
"Ron, wait. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"No, it's fine. Forget I came by, just enjoy your breakfast date."
"Come on, don't be like that…" Harry said, groaning internally at himself for losing his temper like a child once more.
"I'll see you around, mate," Ron muttered, clearly upset. He trotted down the front steps and disapparated when he reached the bottom with a loud 'pop'.
Harry mumbled a string of profanities to himself as he closed and locked the front door, standing with his back against it and exhaling slowly.
He shouldn't have been short with Ron, and he shouldn't have given his friend all the more reason to come poking around in his business. Now he wouldn't be surprised if Ron sent over a couple more people over for routine "wellness checks", as he clearly wasn't handling this time away from the ministry properly.
Malfoy had stepped out of the study, seeing that the coast was now clear, and was lounging against the wall in the hallway with an expression remarkably close to sympathy upon his face. Harry had never seen it before, but couldn't help but appreciate how different it made him seem from the boy that Harry had known him to be for most of his life. He also took a moment to admire that Draco Malfoy was wearing sweatpants, something he had never imagined would look as sexy as it did.
"Go ahead," Harry said, almost laughing in spite of himself. "Tell me what an embarrassing idiot I am. Let's hear it."
Malfoy didn't laugh, but instead retrieved his wand from the pocket of his pants and cleaned up the standing water in the hallway.
"I'm actually feeling a bit hungry," he said, ignoring Harry's comments about the conversation with Ron. "What do you say I try to whip something up in the kitchen for us?"
Harry blinked a couple times.
"You can cook?" He asked, trying to picture a sweatpants-clad Draco Malfoy sauntering around his kitchen preparing food. The mental image of this was more arousing than he had anticipated. He thought, for the second or third time this morning, of how uncomfortable these tight jeans had turned out to be.
"Actually no," Malfoy replied, wrinkling his nose and pushing his disheveled hair back from his face. "I thought I would offer since you made me breakfast yesterday, but I have absolutely no idea what to do in the kitchen."
"You're joking," Harry responded, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I would have thought you'd be quite the Michelin star, with your pedigree and social status." Harry took a couple steps closer to Draco, the humiliation from his conversation with Ron slowly wearing off.
"If I ever hear those two words out of your mouth again, I'm going to have to hex you," Malfoy said with a playfully stern look on his face.
"Fine, I'll manage the burnt toast, then," Harry replied, reaching Malfoy and tugging at the drawstring of his grey sweatpants. "These are a great look on you, by the way."
"Oh?" Malfoy smirked. "They don't make me look like a homeless ex-death eater on the run from the law?"
"I never said they didn't. I'm just saying they make your arse look amazing."
"Speaking of…" Draco pulled Harry towards him by his belt loops, reaching around to palm the tight fabric of Harry's jeans. "Keep these on today. Lose the shirt, though. You worked far too hard to have those biceps covered up."
…
The next few hours consisted of Harry cooking breakfast in the kitchen while Draco toyed with Harry's muggle stereo, then both of them losing interest in their food and shagging on the kitchen table instead, upsetting plates, bowls and mugs of coffee in the process and letting the shattered tableware remain on the floor, completely forgotten. Afterwards Draco curled up with a blanket in the study and opened a medical textbook that looked like it was large enough to peak Hermione's interest. Harry propped his head in Draco's lap and started playing a video game on the small television he kept in the study. Every now and then, Draco would marvel at the television and exclaim something about "muggles coming up with the strangest ideas", but they both seemed to be enjoying the relaxing, peaceful day with each other.
The rain from the night before had returned, and there was an added layer of coziness listening to it beat against the windows of the study, knowing that they were safe and warm inside. If a muggle were to pass by Grimmauld Place they would know nothing of the safe haven that the two had created, how the enchanted fairy lights upon the mantle, which had been placed for Christmas several years prior, twinkled to reflect the atmosphere in the room. They faded from red to white to pink, and then back to red again. When it had fallen dark outside again, and the lights were hovering at the same shade of crimson for nearly an hour, Draco pulled Harry up onto the couch and began working his cock again, pressing long, languid kisses into his lips. They fucked again upon the sofa, this time slowly and intimately, savoring each movement and deciding to linger on the edge of their climaxes, neither one wanting this feeling to come to an end.
They lay there afterwards, their breathing shallow and their mess properly cleaned up this time. Harry lay in Draco's lap and absently stroked the hair on Draco's chest, feeling himself draw closer and closer to unconsciousness.
"We should just stay here forever, you know," he whispered. Draco ran a hand through his messy hair in response.
"We can't do that," Draco said, though Harry could tell from the tone in his voice that he very much wanted to.
"I'll put up wards, I'll make excuses for the both of us. We can just stay here and eat, and sleep, and fuck, and nobody would be the wiser."
"Mmhm," Draco said, offering a non-committal head pat. "Sounds nice."
"You don't think we could do it?"
"I don't think you could stay in your house for more than two days, Potter."
"And why is that?"
"Because I'm the only one you can save in here. You'll grow tired of that by Saturday."
"I think I'm done saving people," Harry said with a laugh, spreading his arms out to curl them behind his head, playing with Draco's hand as he did so. "I'm just going to settle down and have a nice, quiet rest of my life. Drink lots of tea. Write a book or two. Just...take it easy. You know?"
"That'll never be enough for you," Draco's voice was laced with a hint of sadness, so Harry turned around on his stomach to be able to see his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up into Draco's grey eyes.
"Nothing. It's nothing," Draco said, leaning his head back against the cushions and closing his eyes. "Just… this is what it always feels like. At the beginning. The ecstasy, the fucking, the never wanting to leave each other's side. It's like a dance, it's so easy to fall into. But it always fades, after a while. We won't feel like this forever."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I've lived it. It's raw, it's intense, it's so, so good at the beginning, and then it tapers out once we realize that all it is is just chemistry, our brains tricking us into believing that this is the best we've ever felt. We'll look back on this and feel silly for ever falling this hard for each other."
The lights in the room were starting to twinkle a pale shade of blue. Harry was silent for a moment, thinking of the love affair that Draco was describing, which he now knew took place when Draco was only 16 years old with a man who clearly used his innocence and lack of experience for his own advantage. Harry tried to remember if he had felt like that with anyone before, if the relationships he had in the past could even be called love. Whatever this was shaping out to be with Malfoy was surely the most real, passionate thing he had experienced yet in his life. He didn't want to think of it ending now, but he knew that even if it did, it would leave a far greater mark on him than anything else had before.
"You've fallen for me, then?" He asked, an eyebrow arched as a mischievous smirk played at his lips. "Is that your admission?"
"That's what you took away from what I said, Potter? Really?" Draco had thankfully surfaced from the depressing, melancholic spiral of all the ill-fated ways this could end and granted Harry a grin in return.
"I just want to hear you say it," Harry pressed. "That you're head over heels for me. That you'd be lost without me."
"You're so full of it." Draco kissed him again between smiles, letting his breath hang right next to Harry's as he whispered, "I think you know how I feel about you."
"I have an inkling, yes."
…
The next few days were remarkably similar to the first one, both Draco and Harry beginning to learn what this new life looked like. They lounged around, cooking and reading and studying, fucking in the most creative ways they could: In the shower, on the kitchen counter, on the stairs, even in the attic when Draco asked to see what it looked like up there. At some point during the third day Draco insisted that if he was going to live here, he was going to have to tidy it up a bit. He then spent most of that day helping Harry administer cleaning spells upon every visible surface of the house. He completely transfigured the curtains, mended up some of the threadbare blankets and comforters lying around, and got all the dirt and grime out of the carpets in all the bedrooms. He took it upon himself to painstakingly organize all of the closets and bookshelves until it looked like 12 Grimmauld Place could have a feature in a wizarding homemaking magazine. He also helped Harry with the rather arduous task of removing some of the Black family artifacts from the house, many of which required spells that Harry had never heard of, and which he was quite sure would not have been taught outside of Slytherin house.
Once Draco was finally satisfied with how the house looked, once there was no longer dust coating the surfaces of the furniture or cobwebs climbing up the four-poster bed they were sharing upstairs, he unpacked his school trunk into the bedroom, placing all of his clothes and belongings into the large, wooden dresser that used to belong to Sirius's mother.
Harry interpreted this as a sign that Draco had fully accepted this arrangement, and was finally ready to start working on what Harry had brought him here to do. Once they could get rid of all the potions in the school trunk and clear Draco's name, once Harry was back at his job without everyone constantly worrying about his competency as an auror, they could do this without hiding anymore. They wouldn't have to be looking back over their shoulders everywhere they went, they could both finally be free.
…
"Draco, can I talk to you about something?" Harry asked on the fifth day as the two lay next to the fireplace, the embers casting golden shadows upon their faces in the darkness.
"Possibly," He responded playfully, never able to provide a simple yes or no answer. Malfoy stroked the side of Harry's face, brushing some of the long, black hair away from his eyes. Harry loved what the glow of the firelight did to Draco's features; how dramatic the curve of his throat appeared in the shadows, how piercing his cheekbones were in the dimness. His grey eyes reflected the flames that were nearly extinguished upon the logs.
"I want to start getting rid of all the Laethelixir and making sure you're safe from the ministry and the suppliers. I think… I think I want this to be what my life looks like. I just want to make sure we take care of everything first."
Draco nodded, his adam's apple bobbing in the shadows as he swallowed.
"I want that too," he said quietly, running his thumb up and down Harry's temple. "This...I don't deserve it, but it's… It's everything I always wanted. With you."
"It doesn't matter what you did, Draco. You still deserve a chance to be happy."
Draco granted Harry a long, serious look, his eyes probing Harry's in the dim light.
"Are you happy?" he asked.
"Happier than I can ever remember."
"Me too."
They held each other's gaze for the longest time until Harry broke eye contact, looking at his hands.
"I'll need names, the people who were in Delev's business with you. Addresses, descriptions, whatever you can provide me with. I'm not going to plant anything we have unless I already find the drug there, and then I'll need to get others to do the raids with me. Dean, Seamus maybe. Possibly Ron, if he stops being a git anytime soon. I can start tomorrow, if you're open to that."
Draco nodded again, but without the euphoric look of happiness that Harry had seen in his eyes before.
"I know," Harry said, tracing Draco's jawline with his fingertip. "I'm sorry, I don't want this to end either. These past couple days have been some of the best of my life. We just… Can't hide like this forever. We have to fix this."
"Will you still want this when it's over?" Draco asked him, point blank. "Or is it just thrilling because we're keeping it from everyone else?"
There was a look of desperation in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. He thought of all the times Draco had been abandoned or used by those he had loved, how so many of the people that were supposed to protect Draco had hurt him or used him for their own nefarious purposes. He couldn't imagine what abuse from his own father, or manipulation and coercion from an older man who claimed to love you must do to a person. It was so different from Harry's own teenage years, where people who weren't even members of his family had made the decision to protect him with their lives. He had always had someone to turn to, even in his darkest hours. Above all else, Harry knew Draco just needed someone to stay by his side.
"Yes," Harry responded, cupping Draco's face with his palm. "I'll always want this."
Draco kissed him in return, clinging to his long, messy hair and breathing in his scent like he wanted to memorize it forever. Harry pulled Draco onto his lap and held onto his hips, beginning the familiar ritual of unbuttoning his shirt, pressing kisses into his bare skin. He took Draco in slow, passionate thrusts, holding him the whole time and only breaking away from Draco's lips to watch his eyes in the reflection of the firelight as he came, calling Harry's name.
...
That night he held Draco even closer as they lay in the bed upstairs, their clothes still abandoned by the fireplace and their limbs intertwined, warm bodies pressed against each other beneath the cool sheets.
There was a moment in the middle of the night when Draco awoke from a nightmare, beginning to thrash around in bed and shout to himself in the darkness. Harry quickly pulled Draco's body into his own, wrapping his arms completely around Draco's shoulders and kissing his neck until he woke up, visibly shaken, with tears brimming in his eyes.
"Shhhh, I'm here. You're safe. Everything's okay," Harry whispered, squeezing him even tighter in his arms. Draco nodded, taking slow, deliberate breaths, then grabbed Harry's hand and interlaced their fingers, wrapping both hands back around his chest.
Harry held him like that all night, applying extra pressure to Draco's hand when he thought there might have been another shiver of a dream several hours later. It was a beautiful thing, being entwined with someone while he slept. He could feel it healing his scars steadily, incrementally, night by night.
...
Harry was in the shower the next morning, well past the act of cleansing himself and instead just basking in the hot, steamy water when Draco called his name from the other side of the curtain.
"I have the list," he said in a bit of a muffled voice.
Harry turned off the water, reaching for a towel to use on his hair and stepping out of the shower. The cool air instantly turned his skin to gooseflesh. Draco stood there in green slytherin sweatpants, clutching a piece of parchment with a nervous look upon his face.
"It's just ten people," he qualified immediately. "I'm fairly certain they all have product in bulk like I did, but you'll have to check first. I've just scribbled down their rough addresses for you. I don't know the precise locations for some of them."
Harry nodded, taking the parchment from Draco and glancing at his tidy scrawl upon the page, incriminating those he had been working alongside since June.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Harry asked, giving him one last chance for an exit in case he needed it. "We don't have to go this route if you're not wanting to. We can try to do something else."
"It's not that I'm not ready," Draco said, gripping his left forearm with his palm. Harry could see his dark mark faintly, the warped, black skin there that was now covered in scars. He knew Draco clutched it, trying to cover the ink there whenever he was nervous or uncomfortable. "It's just that… I deserve the same fate that they do. I'm just like them, I've done everything that they've done."
"Draco," Harry said softly, wrapping the towel around his waist and taking both of Draco's hands in his own. "We're doing this to get rid of Delev, so there won't be any more dangerous overdoses, any more blood on the supplier's hands. It's not just about punishment, it's about saving lives."
"I know." his eyes were red-rimmed, and Harry could see that it had taken a lot out of him to compile this list.
"Let me check these places first, I can handle this. Please just try to relax, I'll be back as soon as I can."
"What if he finds out? That I did this?"
Harry could see that above everything else, Draco was scared of what Delev might do to him. That night must have left a greater mark on Draco than Harry had initially thought. He wondered in the back of his mind if that was what Draco's most recent nightmares had been about.
"Stay here. You're safe here, he can't get to you. He has no idea you're here, and I still have countless charms on the house from when it was the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. You don't have to worry about him."
"But what if Bennett tells -"
Harry interrupted him by clutching his face and pressing a quick kiss upon his lips.
"I'm going to protect you. I promise you're safe."
Draco didn't look like he entirely believed Harry, but there would be time to convince him of that.
"Besides," Harry pressed, "Nothing's happened in the last week you've been here. Why should anything happen in the couple hours that I'm gone?"
Draco looked like he wanted to say something in protest, but Harry interrupted once more.
"Read a book, take a bath. Just try to enjoy the morning. I'll be back before you know it."
He walked past Draco and began dressing in the clothes he had laid out for himself upon the bed.
"You'll be careful?" Draco asked, looking more worried than Harry had ever seen him.
"I'm always careful."
"That's a fucking lie." Finally, a smile from Draco. Harry kissed his lips again in response, throwing on his jean jacket as he did so.
"I'll floo you if I need anything."
"I love you," Draco said, as simply as if he had been telling Harry what the weather would be like that day.
Harry realized suddenly that his heart was pounding incredibly fast in his chest. He could practically hear the beat of it in his ears. He took in a sharp breath of air, realizing Draco was probably registering how shocked he looked right now and anxiously waiting for some kind of response.
"I love you too," he said, and he meant it. He wasn't sure how long he had felt that way, but somewhere in between him rescuing an unconscious Draco Malfoy from the inn and holding his body in his arms as they slept that morning, he had found it to be true. He had no idea where to go from here.
"I can't believe you said it first. How embarrassing for you," he joked, pushing a strand of Draco's hair out of his face. Draco had reddened slightly, clearly he had been going through the same physiological distress Harry had been prompting his confession.
"Come back in one piece or I'll take it back," Draco grinned.
"I will," Harry promised, kissing Draco one last time before taking a step back, grasping his wand and rucksack and disapparating.