Draco Malfoy and the Union of Souls (Ch. 11)
[Title] Draco Malfoy and the Union of Souls
[Author] ickle_huffie
[Beta] herbie_weasley
[Rating] R
[Pairing] Harry/Draco (Mentions of Ron/Hermione and Blaise/Pansy)
[Warnings] Slash, language, and sexual content
[Summary] Draco keeps thinking about Harry Potter, and can’t figure out why. When he finds out he’s a veela, suddenly it all comes clear. Set 6th year after OotP.
Note: Even I'm surprised at how quickly I turned this chapter out, but here it is! Enjoy.
X-posted in a few places. Sorry about that.
As I stood by one of my windows and looked over Harry’s note for what must have been the thousandth time, I let my forehead hit the cold glass in front of me. My eyes drifted shut, but I still saw the words in that alien print searing behind my eyelids. When I opened them, I found no solace-I was holding the note. With a groan of frustration, I crumpled the bit of parchment with one hand and threw it towards the opposite wall, but it fell to the ground only a few feet away. I leaned against the wall and stared at the wad on the floor, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous.
How could I have been so stupid? Couldn’t stop her? Fuck, if I’d wanted to, I could have stopped her. But I’d let her walk all over me. I was angry with myself, but I was even angrier at Pansy for having taken advantage of the situation. I had been desperate, and she had decided to take the opportunity to get what she’d always wanted and thought she’d never have: me.
But for all of that, I felt an equal amount of guilt and self-hatred. It was my fault for not pushing her away, my fault for letting it happen in the first place. I should have known better than to be so incredibly stupid.
I ran a hand through my hair with a sigh, my eyes still trained on the scrap of parchment. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach and a lump harden in my throat. I walked over and picked up the note, smoothing it out and looking at its message once again. This time, though, my gaze went straight to the signature: Potter. It was amazing how many different emotions that one word could incite in my fairly inexperienced heart. Anger, guilt, admiration, wonder, pain…pain. I was starting to get a headache.
I walked over to my desk and propped the note up in a prominent position, where I would see it often. Just what I need…remind myself that I fucked up. Literally. Frowning slightly, I stared at it a moment longer before turning away, surveying the room. It felt so…empty.
I shook my head and decided I needed to get out of there, to clear my mind. I grabbed my cold weather gear, threw my cloak about my shoulders, and went outside to think.
The snow blanketing the ground dazzled my eyes, and sent my mind reeling back to Harry, and how snow reminded him of those very same eyes. I bent and scooped some up, slowly making a fist, watching the snow fall from my gloved hand. I looked up at the sky, finding it a dull shade of gray, clouds threatening. I stood there amid the snow, merely letting the cold seep in. Maybe it would numb my heart…and the ache in my skull.
Finally, when I couldn’t really feel my feet or fingers any more, I headed back inside, straight to my room. I peeled off my layers and sank down to the floor in front of the fireplace, leaning back against the sofa and staring into the fire, seeing Pansy’s face contorted in ecstasy in the flames, mocking me. I growled and stood up in a rush, turning away, only to see Harry’s note sitting there on my desk. I cursed and kicked the table next to the sofa, breaking one of the legs off, sending its contents toppling onto the floor…including the things Harry had returned to me.
The light spilled through the window and hit the floor, washing my tie with white sunlight and catching on the preserved snowflake, making it twinkle and glitter. Everywhere I turned, there was some reminder of him. He had squeezed into my brain and imprinted himself on every niche. I couldn’t rid myself of Harry Potter, even if he could rid himself of me.
* * * * * *
The headache wouldn’t go away. I had only the slightest appetite; everything I tried to eat had no flavor and made me want to retch. The heartache was so bad it was almost a physical pain. I missed him. I needed him.
Every time we spoke, which was seldom, it was strained and distant. True to my word, I said nary a harsh word about him, though often times I wanted to; to yell at him, perhaps, would have made me feel even a little bit better. But I kept my words to myself, thinking them too juvenile, too simple. I wanted to beg him to take me back, and I could see the deep hurt in those emerald eyes, but I didn’t honestly think he would do so. He was too smart to get into this again, though once I might have thought otherwise.
On top of the endless, pounding headache, I felt a sense of doom, for lack of a better word. My rooms felt too constricting, the outdoors too vast. Everywhere I went, I found some problem, when the real problem was that Harry wasn’t there. In fact, the only time I could even remotely focus was when I had class with him. My headache would dull enough to be semi-negligible, and my stomach would even rumble with hunger. Those moments were short-lived, though. As soon as I left class, my afflictions would return, and once again, I would be miserable.
I took to having house elves bring my meals to my rooms; I couldn’t stand sitting at the same table as Pansy. Whenever she saw me, her face split into a large, satisfied smirk. I wanted to slap it off. That temptation was enough that it would have been dangerous to stay with her in the Great Hall. It was bad enough during classes, but that I couldn’t help-as long as I focused on my work, I could ignore her. But sitting at breakfast looking across my morning pumpkin juice at her? That I couldn’t ignore. It was easier to separate myself.
I spent a good amount of time trying to think of things nasty enough to pay Pansy back, but every time I went to write something down, I saw the note sitting there on my desk, and the guilt triumphed. I would quit what I was doing and find something to distract myself with. As a result, I spent quite a bit of time out on the grounds, flying, or merely laying about, watching the day pass by.
Pass by. I was watching my life pass me by. It was as if I’d stopped walking, and everyone else was running. The distance between me and everyone else just…grew. And I wasn’t even trying to make it up.
* * * * * *
It had been two weeks. Fourteen long days, and seven fucking endless hours. My fifteenth breakfast without Harry. The food the house elves had brought sat beside the sofa, untouched. I sat next to it and stared at it, but felt no desire whatsoever to eat it. I watched a fly land atop the eggs, and let my hand hover lazily over them. My mouth was set in a grim line, as my hand descended and swatted the hapless insect. I lifted my hand and peeled the grime away, flicking it towards the fireplace.
With a flick of my wrist, I had taken a life. A small one, albeit, but a life. What point did life have now? What point was there in living if I couldn’t live with him? Was this my punishment for wronging my mate? Did I have to suffer so because I had made one mistake?
“People make mistakes,” I whispered. “To err…to err is human.” I buried my face in my hands, my head pounding. Pounding? No. Splitting.
I groaned and stretched out across the couch. It hurt enough to open my eyes, but to close them…to close them left me staring at him, left me gazing upon an image of Harry burned into my brain. He lay there peacefully, shirtless, his head resting on my pillow, his hair hanging in his face, looking back at me. It was a memory from Christmas break, when he spent every night in my rooms. I couldn’t get him out of my head.
I opened my eyes and growled at the ceiling. I’d damned myself to this hell the moment I laid hands on Pansy. It was all my fault, and there was no way out. Not unless I took it on myself to go back to Harry and beg his forgiveness. But would he forgive me? Would he let it go with a simple “I’m sorry”? Maybe it would be best to find the Granger girl and ask her about it.
I sat up, and it felt like my head would explode. The idea of asking Granger went out the window. If I couldn’t so much as stand without feeling like I would fall over, how would I make it to Gryffindor Tower? I let out a long sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. Yesterday, at least, I could go to class. But today…oh, today. The headache was that much worse. I gave a pathetic whimper and sank back down onto the sofa. So this was what it was like, coming to the end. Nothing but fear, pain, and darkness. The only spot of light was that trove of memories in my mind, but digging into it made the heartache so much worse…it felt like a heart attack.
I closed and rubbed my eyes and felt the tears welling up again. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted the pain to go away, I wanted it all to end…it would be so much easier to just give up than to keep on living.
I could almost hear his voice. I could almost hear him calling my name. “Draco…” The words were distant; I was imagining things. “Draco,” he repeated.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I moaned, banging my hands against my forehead, trying to drive out the voices.
“Draco.”
“God damn it, go the fuck away!” I shouted, and the volume of my own voice took me by surprise, sending waves of pain through my brain that made the rest of me ache in sympathy.
“Okay,” came the response. A response?
I opened my eyes and pushed myself up with caution. Afraid of what I might see-more importantly, what I might not see-I looked over the back of the couch to see…
“H-harry?” I whispered, his name coming out tense and too highly pitched. He just stood there, but in his hand was the tie and necklace. His other arm was still in a sling-presumably to take the strain off of his fractured collarbone. “I…”
He shook his head. “Don’t, Malfoy.” His voice was soft and sweet and musical and…oh, how my ears had longed for it. The sound of my name-even my last name-rolling off of his tongue sent me swooning, and I had to grip the back of the sofa to keep from falling. I could already feel my headache dulling.
“Then why-”
He shook his head again, cutting me off. His knuckles were white as he held my gifts in his hand. “You did a fucking idiotic thing, Malfoy.” I went to speak and he held up his hand. “You don’t say anything until I let you.” I swallowed and nodded, and he walked over to the fireplace, his back to me. “When I got into this…this…whatever it is with you, I expected to be yours, and only yours. And to me, that meant you’d abide by the same rules. Me, and nobody else.” He turned around and looked right into my eyes. My heart fluttered and the pounding in my head relaxed a bit more. “But you didn’t.” He looked pained, and I wanted nothing more than to get up and take him in my arms, to beg his forgiveness-anything to have him back. But he’d told me not to speak, so I didn’t.
“I broke this off because you lied to me, Draco.” My stomach flipped. He’d called me Draco. “I can’t stand liars. Just after you’d promised to quit putting me down, you put me down in the worst possible way. You put me aside.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t care if you ‘couldn’t’ stop her, because I know you could have. I don’t care that it was a girl. I don’t care that it was Pansy fucking Parkinson. I care that it wasn’t me.” He walked away from the fireplace, towards me. “My head has been pounding for a week. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you. Every time I look at you…” The pain in his face gave way to longing. “Every time I look at you, I just want to…to tell you it was all a lie, that I can’t live without you…but I know that I can. It’s you, Draco…you that can’t live without me.” He held up his hand, the snowflake glittering against one of the silver stripes on the tie. “Everlasting. That’s the kind of faithfulness I want from you, Draco. Never melting. When you commit to me, you commit to me-you got it? No fooling around, no matter what.” Now he was almost shouting. “If I can’t help you get over your goddamn erection, deal with it yourself. I don’t care how tempting it is to get someone else to help. You’re mine, Malfoy. Got that?” He pushed his hair aside, revealing his scar, and bent close to me. “You belong to Harry fucking Potter, the Boy Who fucking Lived!” His eyes were flashing with something close to anger now. I was almost afraid-but this was Harry. My Harry. To whom I belonged. Completely.
He pulled himself up to his full height, and looked down at me. “Got that?” he said again, his voice back to its normal volume. I said nothing, obeying what he’d asked, until he spoke again. “Well?”
“I…I’ve got it.” I took a deep breath and stood up. I put out a hand to touch him, realized it was shaking, and clenched it into a fist, letting it drop to my side. I sank down to the floor, kneeling at his feet, my head hanging. “I’m yours. Only yours.”
“Forever?” he asked.
“Forever,” I repeated. I saw the tie fall onto the floor by his foot, and picked it up, standing. “Yours, Harry,” I whispered, looking into his eyes.
“Good. Then help me put this back on?” he asked, holding out the necklace. I smiled and took it from him, our fingers brushing together; I almost thought I saw a spark. He turned away, and I clasped the chain around his neck, careful to avoid the sling. He turned back and looked into my eyes again, and the last of my headache went away. I’ve no idea how long we stood like that, but I finally wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close; his arm slipped around me, and I felt tears pricking my eyes again.
I fought the tears back, squeezing Harry tightly. He groaned. “Draco-my collarbone.”
I winced and pulled away. “Sorry, sorry!”
“It’s…it’s ok.” He sighed and cupped my cheek in his free hand. “Merlin, I’ve missed you.”
I chuckled. “I guarantee I missed you more, love.” I blinked. Had I just said what I thought I’d said?
“Did you…?” asked Harry, and I bit my lip. I guess I had.
I hesitated before answering. Love? Did I really mean that? Or was I just getting carried away by the moment?
Pining after someone for two weeks, being unable to think of anything other than him, wearing his gift day in, day out without ever taking it off…wasn’t that love? Wasn’t seeing his face behind my eyelids love? Didn’t seeing him in every dream constitute love?
Oh, Merlin. I’m in love with bloody Harry Potter.
I nodded. “I…I love you, Harry.”
His cheeks colored slightly. “I…I love you, too, Draco.” He blushed more and looked away. I caught his chin and lifted it so he was looking at me again. Then I closed my eyes, pressed my lips against his, and we shared what could be the sweetest kiss of my entire life.
I had my mate back in my arms once more; I didn’t intend to let him go ever again.
[Other Chapters] One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven
[Author] ickle_huffie
[Beta] herbie_weasley
[Rating] R
[Pairing] Harry/Draco (Mentions of Ron/Hermione and Blaise/Pansy)
[Warnings] Slash, language, and sexual content
[Summary] Draco keeps thinking about Harry Potter, and can’t figure out why. When he finds out he’s a veela, suddenly it all comes clear. Set 6th year after OotP.
Note: Even I'm surprised at how quickly I turned this chapter out, but here it is! Enjoy.
X-posted in a few places. Sorry about that.
As I stood by one of my windows and looked over Harry’s note for what must have been the thousandth time, I let my forehead hit the cold glass in front of me. My eyes drifted shut, but I still saw the words in that alien print searing behind my eyelids. When I opened them, I found no solace-I was holding the note. With a groan of frustration, I crumpled the bit of parchment with one hand and threw it towards the opposite wall, but it fell to the ground only a few feet away. I leaned against the wall and stared at the wad on the floor, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous.
How could I have been so stupid? Couldn’t stop her? Fuck, if I’d wanted to, I could have stopped her. But I’d let her walk all over me. I was angry with myself, but I was even angrier at Pansy for having taken advantage of the situation. I had been desperate, and she had decided to take the opportunity to get what she’d always wanted and thought she’d never have: me.
But for all of that, I felt an equal amount of guilt and self-hatred. It was my fault for not pushing her away, my fault for letting it happen in the first place. I should have known better than to be so incredibly stupid.
I ran a hand through my hair with a sigh, my eyes still trained on the scrap of parchment. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach and a lump harden in my throat. I walked over and picked up the note, smoothing it out and looking at its message once again. This time, though, my gaze went straight to the signature: Potter. It was amazing how many different emotions that one word could incite in my fairly inexperienced heart. Anger, guilt, admiration, wonder, pain…pain. I was starting to get a headache.
I walked over to my desk and propped the note up in a prominent position, where I would see it often. Just what I need…remind myself that I fucked up. Literally. Frowning slightly, I stared at it a moment longer before turning away, surveying the room. It felt so…empty.
I shook my head and decided I needed to get out of there, to clear my mind. I grabbed my cold weather gear, threw my cloak about my shoulders, and went outside to think.
The snow blanketing the ground dazzled my eyes, and sent my mind reeling back to Harry, and how snow reminded him of those very same eyes. I bent and scooped some up, slowly making a fist, watching the snow fall from my gloved hand. I looked up at the sky, finding it a dull shade of gray, clouds threatening. I stood there amid the snow, merely letting the cold seep in. Maybe it would numb my heart…and the ache in my skull.
Finally, when I couldn’t really feel my feet or fingers any more, I headed back inside, straight to my room. I peeled off my layers and sank down to the floor in front of the fireplace, leaning back against the sofa and staring into the fire, seeing Pansy’s face contorted in ecstasy in the flames, mocking me. I growled and stood up in a rush, turning away, only to see Harry’s note sitting there on my desk. I cursed and kicked the table next to the sofa, breaking one of the legs off, sending its contents toppling onto the floor…including the things Harry had returned to me.
The light spilled through the window and hit the floor, washing my tie with white sunlight and catching on the preserved snowflake, making it twinkle and glitter. Everywhere I turned, there was some reminder of him. He had squeezed into my brain and imprinted himself on every niche. I couldn’t rid myself of Harry Potter, even if he could rid himself of me.
* * * * * *
The headache wouldn’t go away. I had only the slightest appetite; everything I tried to eat had no flavor and made me want to retch. The heartache was so bad it was almost a physical pain. I missed him. I needed him.
Every time we spoke, which was seldom, it was strained and distant. True to my word, I said nary a harsh word about him, though often times I wanted to; to yell at him, perhaps, would have made me feel even a little bit better. But I kept my words to myself, thinking them too juvenile, too simple. I wanted to beg him to take me back, and I could see the deep hurt in those emerald eyes, but I didn’t honestly think he would do so. He was too smart to get into this again, though once I might have thought otherwise.
On top of the endless, pounding headache, I felt a sense of doom, for lack of a better word. My rooms felt too constricting, the outdoors too vast. Everywhere I went, I found some problem, when the real problem was that Harry wasn’t there. In fact, the only time I could even remotely focus was when I had class with him. My headache would dull enough to be semi-negligible, and my stomach would even rumble with hunger. Those moments were short-lived, though. As soon as I left class, my afflictions would return, and once again, I would be miserable.
I took to having house elves bring my meals to my rooms; I couldn’t stand sitting at the same table as Pansy. Whenever she saw me, her face split into a large, satisfied smirk. I wanted to slap it off. That temptation was enough that it would have been dangerous to stay with her in the Great Hall. It was bad enough during classes, but that I couldn’t help-as long as I focused on my work, I could ignore her. But sitting at breakfast looking across my morning pumpkin juice at her? That I couldn’t ignore. It was easier to separate myself.
I spent a good amount of time trying to think of things nasty enough to pay Pansy back, but every time I went to write something down, I saw the note sitting there on my desk, and the guilt triumphed. I would quit what I was doing and find something to distract myself with. As a result, I spent quite a bit of time out on the grounds, flying, or merely laying about, watching the day pass by.
Pass by. I was watching my life pass me by. It was as if I’d stopped walking, and everyone else was running. The distance between me and everyone else just…grew. And I wasn’t even trying to make it up.
* * * * * *
It had been two weeks. Fourteen long days, and seven fucking endless hours. My fifteenth breakfast without Harry. The food the house elves had brought sat beside the sofa, untouched. I sat next to it and stared at it, but felt no desire whatsoever to eat it. I watched a fly land atop the eggs, and let my hand hover lazily over them. My mouth was set in a grim line, as my hand descended and swatted the hapless insect. I lifted my hand and peeled the grime away, flicking it towards the fireplace.
With a flick of my wrist, I had taken a life. A small one, albeit, but a life. What point did life have now? What point was there in living if I couldn’t live with him? Was this my punishment for wronging my mate? Did I have to suffer so because I had made one mistake?
“People make mistakes,” I whispered. “To err…to err is human.” I buried my face in my hands, my head pounding. Pounding? No. Splitting.
I groaned and stretched out across the couch. It hurt enough to open my eyes, but to close them…to close them left me staring at him, left me gazing upon an image of Harry burned into my brain. He lay there peacefully, shirtless, his head resting on my pillow, his hair hanging in his face, looking back at me. It was a memory from Christmas break, when he spent every night in my rooms. I couldn’t get him out of my head.
I opened my eyes and growled at the ceiling. I’d damned myself to this hell the moment I laid hands on Pansy. It was all my fault, and there was no way out. Not unless I took it on myself to go back to Harry and beg his forgiveness. But would he forgive me? Would he let it go with a simple “I’m sorry”? Maybe it would be best to find the Granger girl and ask her about it.
I sat up, and it felt like my head would explode. The idea of asking Granger went out the window. If I couldn’t so much as stand without feeling like I would fall over, how would I make it to Gryffindor Tower? I let out a long sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. Yesterday, at least, I could go to class. But today…oh, today. The headache was that much worse. I gave a pathetic whimper and sank back down onto the sofa. So this was what it was like, coming to the end. Nothing but fear, pain, and darkness. The only spot of light was that trove of memories in my mind, but digging into it made the heartache so much worse…it felt like a heart attack.
I closed and rubbed my eyes and felt the tears welling up again. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted the pain to go away, I wanted it all to end…it would be so much easier to just give up than to keep on living.
I could almost hear his voice. I could almost hear him calling my name. “Draco…” The words were distant; I was imagining things. “Draco,” he repeated.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” I moaned, banging my hands against my forehead, trying to drive out the voices.
“Draco.”
“God damn it, go the fuck away!” I shouted, and the volume of my own voice took me by surprise, sending waves of pain through my brain that made the rest of me ache in sympathy.
“Okay,” came the response. A response?
I opened my eyes and pushed myself up with caution. Afraid of what I might see-more importantly, what I might not see-I looked over the back of the couch to see…
“H-harry?” I whispered, his name coming out tense and too highly pitched. He just stood there, but in his hand was the tie and necklace. His other arm was still in a sling-presumably to take the strain off of his fractured collarbone. “I…”
He shook his head. “Don’t, Malfoy.” His voice was soft and sweet and musical and…oh, how my ears had longed for it. The sound of my name-even my last name-rolling off of his tongue sent me swooning, and I had to grip the back of the sofa to keep from falling. I could already feel my headache dulling.
“Then why-”
He shook his head again, cutting me off. His knuckles were white as he held my gifts in his hand. “You did a fucking idiotic thing, Malfoy.” I went to speak and he held up his hand. “You don’t say anything until I let you.” I swallowed and nodded, and he walked over to the fireplace, his back to me. “When I got into this…this…whatever it is with you, I expected to be yours, and only yours. And to me, that meant you’d abide by the same rules. Me, and nobody else.” He turned around and looked right into my eyes. My heart fluttered and the pounding in my head relaxed a bit more. “But you didn’t.” He looked pained, and I wanted nothing more than to get up and take him in my arms, to beg his forgiveness-anything to have him back. But he’d told me not to speak, so I didn’t.
“I broke this off because you lied to me, Draco.” My stomach flipped. He’d called me Draco. “I can’t stand liars. Just after you’d promised to quit putting me down, you put me down in the worst possible way. You put me aside.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t care if you ‘couldn’t’ stop her, because I know you could have. I don’t care that it was a girl. I don’t care that it was Pansy fucking Parkinson. I care that it wasn’t me.” He walked away from the fireplace, towards me. “My head has been pounding for a week. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you. Every time I look at you…” The pain in his face gave way to longing. “Every time I look at you, I just want to…to tell you it was all a lie, that I can’t live without you…but I know that I can. It’s you, Draco…you that can’t live without me.” He held up his hand, the snowflake glittering against one of the silver stripes on the tie. “Everlasting. That’s the kind of faithfulness I want from you, Draco. Never melting. When you commit to me, you commit to me-you got it? No fooling around, no matter what.” Now he was almost shouting. “If I can’t help you get over your goddamn erection, deal with it yourself. I don’t care how tempting it is to get someone else to help. You’re mine, Malfoy. Got that?” He pushed his hair aside, revealing his scar, and bent close to me. “You belong to Harry fucking Potter, the Boy Who fucking Lived!” His eyes were flashing with something close to anger now. I was almost afraid-but this was Harry. My Harry. To whom I belonged. Completely.
He pulled himself up to his full height, and looked down at me. “Got that?” he said again, his voice back to its normal volume. I said nothing, obeying what he’d asked, until he spoke again. “Well?”
“I…I’ve got it.” I took a deep breath and stood up. I put out a hand to touch him, realized it was shaking, and clenched it into a fist, letting it drop to my side. I sank down to the floor, kneeling at his feet, my head hanging. “I’m yours. Only yours.”
“Forever?” he asked.
“Forever,” I repeated. I saw the tie fall onto the floor by his foot, and picked it up, standing. “Yours, Harry,” I whispered, looking into his eyes.
“Good. Then help me put this back on?” he asked, holding out the necklace. I smiled and took it from him, our fingers brushing together; I almost thought I saw a spark. He turned away, and I clasped the chain around his neck, careful to avoid the sling. He turned back and looked into my eyes again, and the last of my headache went away. I’ve no idea how long we stood like that, but I finally wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close; his arm slipped around me, and I felt tears pricking my eyes again.
I fought the tears back, squeezing Harry tightly. He groaned. “Draco-my collarbone.”
I winced and pulled away. “Sorry, sorry!”
“It’s…it’s ok.” He sighed and cupped my cheek in his free hand. “Merlin, I’ve missed you.”
I chuckled. “I guarantee I missed you more, love.” I blinked. Had I just said what I thought I’d said?
“Did you…?” asked Harry, and I bit my lip. I guess I had.
I hesitated before answering. Love? Did I really mean that? Or was I just getting carried away by the moment?
Pining after someone for two weeks, being unable to think of anything other than him, wearing his gift day in, day out without ever taking it off…wasn’t that love? Wasn’t seeing his face behind my eyelids love? Didn’t seeing him in every dream constitute love?
Oh, Merlin. I’m in love with bloody Harry Potter.
I nodded. “I…I love you, Harry.”
His cheeks colored slightly. “I…I love you, too, Draco.” He blushed more and looked away. I caught his chin and lifted it so he was looking at me again. Then I closed my eyes, pressed my lips against his, and we shared what could be the sweetest kiss of my entire life.
I had my mate back in my arms once more; I didn’t intend to let him go ever again.
[Other Chapters] One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven