It’s late. More than late, more like early. Another hour ticks by and he isn’t sure anymore how long he has been sitting at his desk. The only light is coming from a lone candle on the left side of his parchment and the shine of the moon sneaking in through the crack in his curtains. He hasn’t felt this lost and hopeless since right after the War.
Harry doesn’t even remember the last time he got a full night’s sleep. That’s not entirely true. He can remember. It was before, when Draco was still with him. Still laying next him every night in their bed. The bed that sits empty most nights now. Cold and too big for just Harry, carrying the lingering smell of Draco in its sheets and on its pillows. It’s too painful. It has all been too painful since Draco left, eyes shining from heart break and betrayal.
Eating hurts now, making tea in the morning reminds him of all the mornings shared with Draco. Sharing sleepy kisses and small smiles across the breakfast table. Draco making his tea the same way he has been making it since their 4th year at Hogwarts.
Listening to the wireless hurts. The music they used to dance and sing along to or laugh and make fun of, the Quidditch matches they would sit and cheer with. It all brought back memories of Draco and it hurt.
Almost every area in Harry’s house is a stark reminder of Draco, and what they used to have. To escape the pain in any way he can Harry sits at his desk in his small office. He never had much reason to use this space before. Now it’s an almost sanctuary, no lingering traces of Draco, no memories of Draco. Harry isn’t sure if this is comforting or not. It’s not even as if it keeps him from thinking of Draco.
Harry lets out a sigh and pulls his parchment and quill closer to him and begins to write. He has written ten letters so far to Draco since he left three weeks ago. He hasn’t sent any of them and has no intentions of doing so. These letters are more a coping mechanism, more like journal entries, than proper letters one sends to ex-boyfriends.
I bought those chocolate biscuits you like so much yesterday. I don’t plan on opening them, you know I don’t like them very much. I think that’s why you favoured them so much, you knew I wouldn’t touch them and you would have the whole pack to yourself. Very Slytherin of you.
I cleaned the bathroom this morning for something to do and I found you left some of your soap here. I put it in the shower where you kept your things before.
I’m trying to deal with losing you and I’m trying to get over it. I don’t think I ever will though. Buying your favourite biscuits and putting out your soap is probably counterproductive to getting over a break-up. Writing these letters to you, I don’t know if they are a good idea or not, even though I don’t send them. Everyone knows I’m having a difficult time with this, but I don’t think they know how hard it’s been. I know if Hermione knew I wasn’t sleeping, barely eating, and writing you these phantom letters, her and Ron probably would have semi-permanently moved in here to make sure I was getting better. Charms are great for hiding the bags under my eyes, and all the horrible things you’ve said about my clothes has been right, obviously, nobody can tell I haven’t been eating when my clothes never fit properly to begin with.
I wish we could go back. Back to when it was easy. I guess it was never easy. But at least go back to when the passion we had for each other was so strong nothing could come between us.
When if we fought we broke down to show the most vulnerable parts of ourselves to each other and we fought to understand until there was nothing left to do but to be as close as humanly and physically possible and feeling like our love was timeless. Like it had been made especially for us with the stars when they were created. I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore. It’s gone past 6am. I wonder if you are up getting ready for work. If you are watching the sun rise, if maybe we are seeing the same thing right now. I feel close to you when I think that maybe you could be. This has gotten long enough. I could fill books with how I feel about you Draco. I was just shit at showing it.
Harry slowly wakes, feeling groggy and disoriented. He hates falling asleep at his desk, and it is happening more and more lately. From the sounds and smells coming from his kitchen he assumes it is around noon. Ron has been coming over more and more since Draco left. Either bringing leftovers from Molly or making lunch for Harry himself. Sometimes they get take-out or eat at the pub. Maybe his friends can tell how bad off Harry is, then. Ron is there a lot making sure Harry eats and at least showers for the day if he can’t talk him into leaving the house.
Going down to the basement kitchen Harry’s predictions are correct. Ron is standing in front of the stove stirring a large pot while a knife works at cutting vegetables on the countertop next to him.
“Morning, Harry,” Ron says, flicking his wand at the vegetables and sending them flying into the pot. “Though it’s past noon, but it’s strange saying good afternoon to someone who just woke up.”
Harry gives a noncommittal grunt and sits down at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea. Harry wants to ask why Ron keeps coming over, why he is spending all his free time with Harry instead of with Hermione, but he doesn’t want to sound ungrateful. He knows he needs to get out of this funk he’s gotten himself in, but he just can’t seem to shake it.
“I hope you don’t mind me being here so much. Mum is driving Ginny mad with wedding plans. And with Ginny being on edge the whole house is on edge and everyone is just waiting. It’s like a bad curse is about to go off any minute.”
“Why don’t you move out, get a place with Hermione. You two have been together over two years now,” Harry says, not for the first time. Ron and Hermione are great together and he doesn’t know why they aren’t the ones planning their wedding instead of Ginny and Dean.
“Ah, we will eventually. You know good things happen with time, or to those who wait, and all that, we wouldn’t see each other any more than we already do with how busy she is with her work. And mum needs as much help with this wedding so I don’t mind being home. Just hope Ginny doesn’t blow up the house.”
Ron’s wand starts to buzz, signaling that the food is ready, and he gets up to serve Harry and himself. They eat in relative silence, Ron is an amazing cook, and Harry hasn’t been eating very well so talking was the last thing on his mind. He starts thinking about Ginny getting married, hearing the news a month ago and the catastrophic mistake Harry made shortly after. Harry stares off into space, absent mindedly feeding Pigwidgeon small pieces of his stew as he sits on his shoulder. Ron’s owl is still annoying to all the other Weasley owls, so he goes were Ron goes.
After lunch and a shower Ron is able to get Harry out of the house for a few hours. Harry still needs to get Ginny and Dean an engagement gift and Ron uses Harry’s procrastination habit to his advantage. In the end he buys them season tickets for West Ham football. Since Ginny plays for the Harpies, it wouldn’t have made much sense getting them Quidditch tickets.
“Careful, mate. Dean might call off this wedding and marry you instead. He’s going to lose it over these,” Ron says, as they make their out of Muggle London.
Harry laughs, “I hope not, Dean’s great, but not really my type.”
“You like them a bit more blonde, pointy, and posh, yeah?”
Ron starts to chuckle but stops when he catches the look that crosses Harry’s face.
“Sorry,” he says, “but, have you tried talking to him since he left? Maybe he has had time to cool down and think things through.”
“There isn’t any reason for him to have needed to calm down, I was wrong. Completely. All I can do is apologize, but I had, as soon as I realized—it doesn’t matter, he has no reason to forgive me.”
“For what it’s worth, even if he was a ferrety git, he made you happy, and I wish you could have that back.”
They grab dinner at a smaller pub on Diagon Alley before flooing back to Grimmauld place where Ron retrieves Pig before going back to the Burrow.
“I’m helping Ginny with wedding stuff tomorrow, so I probably won’t be over. Why don’t you come out, I will probably need the help.”
“I’m sure you will. I can floo you when I’m up,” Harry answers while Ron grabs a handful of floo powder and steps into the fireplace.
Ron smiles brightly, “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Harry watches Ron disappear in the green flames and feels a pang of guilt. He said he can come over once he’s up, but not that he is going to.
I know I just wrote a letter to you last night, not that you are getting these, so I guess it shouldn’t even matter how frequently I do this. But anyway. I went out with Ron today. He brought you up. Said you made me happy. And you did. You made me the happiest I had ever been in my entire life, and maybe that isn’t saying much, coming from me and the shit life I had growing up. And there I go again sticking my foot in it. What I mean to say is, I never thought I could feel the happiness that I felt with you. It was consuming, and it came out of nowhere. Honestly, who would have ever thought we would end up together. Living together, having a life together, being happy together. And I was so happy it felt unreal at times and I never knew how to show that to you. I still don’t think I do and maybe that’s why I’m writing these letters. I’m horrible at talking, especially about my feelings, you know, and loved pointing it out to me. But maybe I’m not so bad at writing down how I feel. Too bad it’s too late.
Ron asked if I had talked to you since you left. I haven’t talked to you in over three weeks and I think it might be killing me. Maybe I’m a coward and don’t want to be rejected again. I know you couldn’t forgive me, why would you. So, I haven’t tried reaching out you, though I want to, I want to so badly it’s all I can think about some days.
Enough about that, after being out running around with Ron all day I felt like a hot shower would help me relax, I saw your soap I had put in there yesterday and I couldn’t help but open it. I washed myself with your soap, and now all I can smell is you. I wish you were here with me. That we were sitting in front of the fire listening to the wireless, reading, talking, anything. I know I’m pathetic. I just wish there was a way to make you see. To make you understand.
I know what I said was unforgiveable, it was stupid, and I wasn’t thinking at all, I didn’t even mean it, not in the way you took it. But I know none of that matters now. I hope you are doing well. I hope you still aren’t hurting over what happened, over what I said, and how stupid I am. You deserve someone who can show you every day how much they love you. I’m beyond sorry that that person wasn’t me. How I was raised, I was never shown compassion, or love, I have a hard time understanding how loving the Weasleys can be towards me, its foreign to me, does that make sense? But it’s no excuse, is it? Hermione has been on me since the end of the War to see a mind healer, maybe I need to for more than one reason. How can I talk to a mind healer about this stuff when I couldn’t even talk to you about it? Wonder if I could have therapy sessions via letters. Maybe I’m being ridiculous, I probably need sleep. I miss you, Draco. I hope, for your sake, you don’t miss me.
The next morning Harry wakes up early on the small sofa in the corner of his office. He must have moved there at some point in the night, though he can’t remember leaving his desk. Harry thinks back to the letter he wrote last night. It was the first time he admitted anywhere besides in his head that maybe he should see a mind healer. He knows break-ups are hard, but he doesn’t feel like this is healthy. He knows he can lean on his friends, he just hates the idea of having to ask them for help. Especially now when they are all so busy with other things. Hermione and her work and Ron and the Weasleys with the wedding, it just doesn’t seem fair to burden them now.
Making up his mind Harry puts on clean clothes and floos to St. Mungo’s.
Once at Mungo’s Harry begins to hate how impulsive he is. He isn’t so sure he can really do this, but the receptionist just told him there are multiple openings for that day, and a Healer would be happy to see him. He doesn’t know if he should believe her, or if it’s the fact that he’s Harry Potter that got him such a quick appointment. If nothing else, Hermione will be proud of him.
Before he can talk himself into leaving a middle-aged woman with green healer robes calls his name. Harry takes a deep breath and follows her into her office accepting his fate and quickly promising himself to see this through.
The appointment with the Mind Healer went exceedingly well. She told him the first appointment was more about getting to know Harry and what reasons he was seeking help. Harry quickly listed off the more obvious reasons mainly the War, then his childhood, and last, his relationship and break-up with Draco. Nothing was discussed in any kind of detail, but Harry already feels a little bit lighter. It might be nice to have someone to talk to, who isn’t involved in Harry’s life. An outside input on things, so to say. He will have to thank Hermione for suggesting it, for now though Harry plans to enjoy the unnaturally warm day for the end of January, it has been awhile since he’s been out of the house by himself.
Harry gets back to Grimmauld place well after the sun has started to set. He’s wondering what he should try to make for dinner when he stops in the doorway of the kitchen and finds Ron sitting at the table. When he sees Harry, he jumps out of his chair so fast it falls over.
“Harry! I was getting worried, you said you would floo over today and when it got past two I figured you weren’t going to show up. I came over here to make sure you were okay, but you were gone, and I…” Ron stops, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m sounding like my mum. It’s just you haven’t went out on your own since… I guess I overreacted.”
“It’s fine, Ron. I appreciate it, really, that you care so much. But I’m okay, I, well, I’m seeing a Mind Healer. I figured it was about time, there’s probably loads of stuff I haven’t dealt with properly about how I grew up, and the War of course, and this thing with Draco has been harder than I think it should be, so I figured it was about time. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”
Ron looks relieved and sits down heavily at the table.
“That’s really good, I’m glad you told me. I hope it helps, mate,” Ron looks at the stove and back to Harry, “have you eaten dinner yet, I’m starved. Ginny ran me raged today and didn’t let me stop to eat.”
With Ron not having enough energy to cook, and Harry having little desire to cook, they decide to get take-out. They pull out the Styrofoam and plastic containers and pile them on Harry’s coffee table in the living room while they listen to the wireless. Harry wishes Hermione wasn’t so busy at the Ministry, so she could be here eating with them, he misses her, and he knows she would want to hear about him seeing the Mind Healer. Before he can say anything to Ron about planning lunch or dinner for the three of them Ron clears his throat.
“Listen, about what you said earlier, about seeing the Healer. You said this thing with Draco is harder than you think it should be, but I don’t think that’s true,”
Harry starts to interrupt but Ron holds up his hand, “No really. You were with him for almost two years. You started dating and moved in together right after Hogwarts, yeah it was weird at first, for me at least, but you were so happy, and Harry you loved him. It’s not easy getting over someone you love. It’s supposed to be hard.”
Harry is at loss for words, he knows Ron is wise, but he rarely imparts wisdom onto Harry, not to mention it’s been a long time since they have really talked about their feelings. He feels though, that Ron probably has a point. But he still feels like it shouldn’t be this hard, this painful.
“I understand that, but I know I’m probably doing things that aren’t normal for a break-up, being in love or not. I write him letters that I don’t send him, I pour my heart out in them fold them up and leave them sit in my desk. I bought his favourite biscuits, ones I don’t even particularly like. If all that isn’t bad enough, I don’t sleep in bed anymore, it reminds me of him too much, all of that is normal?”
Ron is looking at him with a small smile, “I think it is. What wouldn’t be normal would be if you weren’t hurting at all, if you could easily go to sleep in the bed you shared with him for two years. If you could go to the market and completely ignore his favourite foods, you had gotten used to buying every week.”
“Is it normal for me to have washed myself with his soap then, so I could smell like him?” Harry asked not a little petulantly. Why couldn’t Ron see, this isn’t normal. Harry isn’t handling the break-up well at all.
“What’s normal anyway, mate? You are hurting, it’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to take time to get over this. Just because you don’t think it’s normal, doesn’t mean it’s abnormal. Look I just don’t want you thinking you should be feeling completely fine, going about your life like nothing happened. Because something did happen, and it changed a large part of your life. Maybe you were too engrained in each other’s lives. I don’t know, really. To me you two just seemed like a happily married couple, you reminded me of Bill and Fleur after the War. You were happy and in love. Then that all changed, and he left, and it happened out of nowhere. You can’t expect to be fine after that. It will take some time.”
Food gone and take-away containers cleaned up Ron grabs Pigwidgeon from where he is curled up sleeping on Harry’s armchair. Thankfully the conversation during dinner was changed to safer topics of Ginny’s wedding and Harry was able to ask Ron to try and make plans for Hermione to join them soon.
“I’ll see if she will take a day off, maybe we can make a day of it,” Ron says after Harry asks.
“Good luck with that, I think she’s avoiding wedding planning if you ask me,”
“She hasn’t been named the smartest witch of her age for nothing, mate.”
With that Ron leaves in a flare of green flames with Pigwidgeon tucked in his arm. Maybe Ron is right, thinks Harry. Maybe it’s okay to feel this lost without Draco. Even if it is normal, it’s not a feeling Harry wants around much longer.
“Why would anyone want to have a winter wedding?” Harry asks. He’s currently sandwiched between Ron and Hermione at the kitchen table at the Burrow charming paper and clothe snowflakes to use as wedding decoration. Harry thinks they look a bit tacky but everyone else says they are elegant and will look perfect once they are arranged properly.
“Winter weddings are really very beautiful though, and it’s easy to do a theme for a winter wedding,” Hermione answers, quickly charming her own snowflakes.
Harry scoffs, “Beautiful I’m sure but bloody cold too, especially since she’s having it outside.”
“Mate, you forget we’re wizards or something? Warming charms are bloody simple and effective. Does it really even matter when the wedding is, can we complain about the real problem here?”
“Hermione finally takes a whole day off work and we are all here at my kitchen table working on decorations for my sister’s wedding. We could be at a pub or doing anything else.”
Ron makes a good point, but Harry supposes it’s fine, at least he is spending time with both Ron and Hermione. He feels like he hasn’t seen her in ages. She took a long lunch break two weeks ago after Ron mentioned to her Harry wanting them all to get together, but she has been back at work without taking off any extra time since then. Harry doesn’t know how she does it.
She was beyond pleased when Harry told her he went to see a Mind Healer, he has been going for almost a month now and he’s never felt better. He still misses Draco, and his Healer encourages him to keep writing his letters he never sends. She advised him to get a journal and to write in it every day also, and slowly his letters for Draco stopped and his own journal entries have become more frequent.
They are on the last of the snowflakes when Ginny and Dean come through the back door shaking the snow out of their hair and taking off their jackets.
“Oh Harry, I’m glad you’re here,” Ginny says once she sees him at the table. Dean gives a smile and waves to all of them taking Ginny’s jacket and hanging it up by the door.
“The wedding is next week, and well, Draco will be there,” She says in a rush Before Harry can answer Ginny continues, “I know I should have told you he was coming sooner than now, but I was afraid if you knew then you wouldn’t come at all.”
“I would never miss your wedding, Ginny. It’s completely fine, it’s probably time I said something to him anyway, right?” Harry says, glad when he sees the tension seep out of her shoulders.
“I never realized how short of an engagement you two had,” Hermione chimes in looking puzzled.
“That’s because you’ve been living at the Ministry since they announced it! Harry you were right, she was just working all that time to avoid helping with the wedding!” Ron all but shouts.
Ginny laughs, “We had to make it a short engagement, if it was any longer mum would have drove me mental.”
I haven’t written anything in over a week. For a while there it was every day. I spent the day with Ron and Hermione at the Burrow getting last minute wedding things ready. Ginny told me you will be there next week. She was worried I wouldn’t want to go. Like it’s me who doesn’t want to see you, when everyone knows it’s the other way around. I don’t blame you. And I’m done feeling sorry for myself. I’ve learned how to live alone since I started seeing my Healer. Ron still comes over at least once a week, when he isn’t working at the joke shop with George.
I think I’m going to look for a job finally. My Healer, and everyone, thinks it will help me. Get me out of the house, interacting with other people, as long as they don’t badger me for autographs and interviews I should be fine.
I still miss you of course. I hope we can talk at the wedding. I will tell you I’m sorry, that I want us to try and be friends. Maybe you will let me tell you about seeing the Healer, about looking for a job. I hope you will tell me how you have been. What you have been up to. If you’ve met anyone new. If I’m being totally honest, and I can since only I will see this, I hope you haven’t. Though I hope you are well, and happy. I don’t think I could handle seeing you with someone else. Not yet. I’m not ready for that yet. I will be though. Hopefully. Ron told me not too long ago good things happen in time, or something along those lines. I hope also, that you might give me a chance to explain what I said almost two months ago. When Ginny came over and told us about her engagement to Dean the first thing I thought about was when we might get married. You and me. The second thing I thought of was how crazy that would be, how wonderful and how crazy, because who would have thought, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, being bonded in marriage. Nobody. But I couldn’t have been happier. Thinking that, it led me to my third thought that turned out to be fatal to one of the greatest things that ever happened to me since finding out about magic. I told Ginny, I always thought her and I would be announcing our engagement.
Looking back on it now, I should have worded it differently. I only meant, thinking back to a time when me and you seemed impossible and me and Ginny had our futures mapped out for us by other people that everyone expected Ginny and me to get married. I know you said I sounded “emotional” when I said that to her, like I was upset that I was missing out on something that I wanted. That’s not what it was at all, though. I was emotional. I can’t deny that, nor will I, but I was emotional because I was thinking about having that with you, asking you to marry me, getting to go around and tell our friends and family we were engaged, marrying you. That’s what I was thinking about. And I wish now that, that would have come out clearer. I hope you give me the chance to explain, and a chance for us to be friends.
The day of the wedding starts bright and cold with the smell of rashers cooking throughout Harry’s house. Ron has been there every day that week having loaned out his room at the Burrow to one of Ginny’s bridesmaids. Harry hasn’t minded having Ron over, he was a wonderful house guest and always cooks every meal while he’s there. Pigwidgeon is even fun to have around when he decides to wake up from one his many naps. Ron is still going on about him being a stupid little feathery git for how much he tries to show off in front of Harry.
“Look at him, always going on like he’s done something special,” Ron says, while Pigwidgeon flies in quick circles around Harry’s outstretched legs once he is sitting at the table.
Harry laughs and helps himself to the breakfast Ron cooked, eating quickly before dashing upstairs for showers before they are expected at the Burrow.
By the time the wedding starts it has started to snow and Harry is glad for all the heating charms inside the tent. He is pleased to see their snowflakes do look rather elegant and not tacky like he originally thought. He is also pleased to see that Draco has come to the wedding alone, though Harry won’t admit that anyone. Harry stands next to Ron at the end of the line of Groom’s men. He tries to watch Ginny and Dean in front of the ministry official, but he can’t help looking at Draco once they start exchanging vows. He is ready to talk to Draco, he only hopes that Draco is ready to talk to him, or at least listen.
“You okay?” Ron whispers back to Harry.
“Yeah, I’m going to try and talk to Draco during the reception. I hope he sticks around long enough.”
“Well, I don’t think anyone wants to miss Seamus’s best man speech, so try and find him then”
Harry snorts, “But I don’t think I want to miss his speech either.”
“I’ll put it in a Pensieve for you, I don’t want you to miss your chance.”
Ron is right, which Harry is realizing is happening a lot lately, but he needs to talk to Draco the first chance he gets.
That chance is as Ron predicted during Seamus’s speech, everyone is enraptured by Seamus, almost everyone is doubled over laughing, almost everyone. Draco is standing with his eyes burning through Harry.
Harry is making his way to Draco’s table when he catches his gaze and is frozen on the spot. Draco looks determined, it’s the only emotion Harry can easily read from where he is standing. Harry just hopes he isn’t determined to get away. Fighting off the burning feeling coming from Draco’s stare Harry starts to move towards him again. As he gets closer, he starts to see more in Draco’s eyes. Confusion, Harry can understand that, he thinks, and longing. Longing? A flutter of hope bursts to Harry’s chest and he almost stops walking again. Finally making it to Draco, Harry swallows, unsure what how he should start. The look in Draco’s eyes is so intense Harry is finding it hard to focus.
“Potter,” Draco says, giving Harry a few more seconds to get his tongue under control.
“Draco, hi. Um, I was hoping we could talk.” Harry shifts his weight from one foot to the other, while Draco continues to pierce him with his gaze.
“Er, so maybe you would come with me into the kitchen. I’d rather we had somewhere more private to talk. It’s right up the path, and the snow is cleared away,” Harry says, gesturing towards the path up to the house with his arms. He feels like a nervous third year talking to their crush.
Draco must take pity on him because he grabs Harry’s arms and lowers them grabbing hold of Harry’s hand.
“Come on then, I want to be back before all the cake is gone,” Draco says as he leads them towards the house.
Inside the house Molly has charms working over the kitchen and they must side step a mop to get in the door.
“Listen Draco,” Harry stops, he hasn’t been this close to Draco in almost two months. He hasn’t been alone with him in just as long. And the look he is giving Harry, it’s setting him on fire. All he wants to do is grab him in his arms and kiss him and never let him go again. It feels like there are a million tiny snitches flying around inside his stomach, and he can hear his heart beating rapidly against his chest.
“Yes?” Draco asks, but instead of him bringing Harry out of his daze, Draco speaking brings Harry’s attention to Draco’s lips. Harry thinks he stops breathing, there isn’t anything left besides Draco standing not two feet in front of him. He needs to talk. He needs to tell Draco what he meant that day. He needs to beg Draco for his forgiveness and for him to take Harry back. Because yes Harry is fine without Draco, but Draco makes Harry more than fine, and Harry has never wanted anyone as much as he wants Draco.
“Oh, hello there, it’s nice to see you again my little winged friend,” Draco says, looking to Harry’s left. There’s a small sound of wings fluttering and Pigwidgeon swoops around Harry to perch himself on Draco’s left shoulder. Pigwidgeon nuzzles his head to Draco’s neck as Draco pets him.
“You know Pigwidgeon?” Harry asks, momentarily forgetting what he is supposed to be doing.
“Well I have met him before, he does go everywhere with Weasley, but little Pigwidgeon and I have become close friends these past few weeks.”
Harry can’t bring himself to be any more articulate. His insides are raging a storm in him and his mind is moving too slowly.
“Oh, yes. He has been bringing me letters, though, I don’t think he was ever tasked to. But he is ever so proud of himself for it.” Draco looks at Harry with a fire in his eyes Harry hasn’t seen since Hogwarts, or, since they were in bed together.
Harry is having a very hard time focusing, but then it all hits at once, like a damn breaking and everything rushes in.
Harry writing his letters to Draco he never planned on sending, falling asleep with the letters on his desk. Ron coming over with Pigwidgeon. Pigwidgeon always being so tired and constantly showing off in front of Harry, “like he’s done something special”, Ron had said, just that morning. Which means.
Harry breathes in quickly, “You got all those letters?” Harry’s voice comes out high and strained. He sits down in the nearest chair for fear of falling over, he feels incredibly dizzy suddenly. Draco is going to think Harry is crazy, completely mental. Stupid. Pathetic. Oh no, Harry thinks, he knows about me buying the biscuits, and washing with his soap. Harry is staring fixedly at the scrubbed kitchen floor when long, pale, fingers lift his chin. Draco is on his knees in front of Harry, looking at him. Looking at him, as though everything he wants is right in front of him. Harry can’t let himself hope.
“Harry, it’s okay. I’m glad I got those letters. I know you never wanted to send them to me, I know they were a way of coping with the break-up. In a way, they were mine too. I was miserable without you. I hated that I left the way I did. That I let my emotions get the best of me and cloud my judgement. When I got the last letter, I wanted to run to Grimmauld Place and knock the door down to get to you. But I also wanted to give you the chance to approach me today. To do what you needed to do. I had faith that you would seek me out today, like you said you would in your letter. Is everything you wrote true?” Draco was holding Harry’s face between his hands, his eyes sparkling, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“All of it,” It’s all Harry can get out. He can’t believe Pig took all those letters to Draco. He feels embarrassed but mostly he feels happy. So happy he can’t help it when a tear slips down his cheek. “I love you, and I was mess without you, I miss you every single day, I wanted to chase you down, but I didn’t think you would have listened, and I didn’t think I deserved to have you listen. But I meant every single thing I wrote. All of it.”
Harry tries to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes but before he can move his hands from his lap Draco is smashing his lips into Harry’s.
Harry moans and grabs Draco’s arms, bringing them closer together. Draco gasps and Harry takes the opening to slip his tongue into Draco’s mouth. Draco’s tongue meets Harry’s enthusiastically, and Harry feels like he’s flying. He thought he had lost this, that is was gone forever. If he is getting the chance to have it back, he’s never letting go.
They pull apart slowly, lazy kisses turning into small pecks with smiles too big for their faces.
“Want to see if there’s any cake left, Draco?”
“Only if I can keep kissing you.”
“Please don’t ever stop.”
“Whose idea was it to have a summer wedding?”
“Stop complaining and work on your flowers, Ron.”
“Hermione,” Ron whined, “it’s going to be too hot.”
“What was it you said to me a few month ago? Mate, you forget we’re wizards or something? Cooling charms are bloody simple and effective.” Harry says, coming into the kitchen with Draco following close behind.
“Ha, ha, yes I remember. Do I really have to bring Pig though, you guys aren’t serious about this are you?”
“Of course, we’re serious Weasley, if it wasn’t for wonderful Pigwidgeon here, Harry and I might not have gotten back together so soon. We could be having another winter wedding.”
“We would have gotten back together even without Pig?” Harry asks.
“Well of course we would have, it just wouldn’t have happened so soon, you would have had to convince me of your feelings without those letters, so Pigwidgeon just sped things along, if you ask me.”
Ron smiles and pets his owl that’s perched on his arm. Draco Malfoy might be an annoying git, but he’s not so bad, he’s pretty okay, and he makes Harry happy and that’s all that matters to Ron.
“Stupid little feathery git.”