Frosted Window
Title: Frosted Window
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Length: 913
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: It had been four days, five hours, forty-eight minutes and three seconds since the war had ended.
Note: For lire_casander. ♥ This is my attempt at making you feel better from my last story. *g*
It was snowing, coming down in torrents. It landed on the window, frosting it over and leaving only a small clear patch in the centre for grey eyes to peer out of. The war had ended exactly four days, five hours -- Draco checked the clock -- forty-eight minutes and three, now four seconds ago.
Five seconds.
Six seconds.
Seven seconds.
Counting seconds wasn't going to make him appear. And it sure wasn't going to make time go any faster.
The Daily Prophet sat on the corner of the kitchen table behind him. It had been there for four days. Somehow they had managed to get the paper out even when the last battle was ragging. Petty things to be so worried about doing. Draco hadn't looked at it. The other three sat next to it.
He only knew the war was over because in giant bold letters, impossible to ignore, it read 'He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named Thwarted For Good.' He wasn't about to read the actual article. It was easier to think Harry alive and not coming to him than dead.
But Harry would have come to him, wouldn't he? That's what he said one week ago, before telling Draco he had to stay in the cabin (as if he was going to offer his life up to fight) and leaving. Maybe Harry had decided someone who was too afraid to join the war wasn't worth his time. It's not like he was anything to Harry besides a burden that he had to keep safe because the burden had decided mid-way through that he didn't want to be on the Dark Lord's side. Didn't want to be on anyone's side, really.
Of course Harry had been the perfect person to go to for safety. And to Draco's surprise Harry had given him safety in the means of a cabin out in the middle of some abandoned snow-filled field. Draco supposed there were some powerful charms on the cabin because the Dark Lord hadn't found him through the mark.
His head fell against the cold glass with a soft thump. His fingers itched to touch parchment and read that article, to know if Harry was dead or had forgotten about him. But he was too afraid to. What if Harry was dead? Who did he have then? His parents were in Azkaban, Harry had told him. Many of his friends had probably died in the war.
All he had was Harry. And what was Harry? Not a friend, although lately Draco wouldn't have minded something more than that. Was he just the person that kept Draco safe? 'Hero' fluttered across Draco's mind and wouldn't Harry like to know that. But Harry wasn't his hero. No one was.
The glass on his forehead had warmed up enough from his body heat to not hurt. His closed his eyes against the blinding swirling white and blocked everything out.
When he awoke he was laying in his bed, tucked under the blankets. He didn't remember walking to his room. Had he sleepwalked?
"You're awake."
Draco's spine nearly broke at the force of his body whipping around. Harry was sitting in the chair next to the bed. He smelled fresh and soapy. His hair was damp and the room had that feeling of wet warmth that let Draco know Harry had recently exited the shower.
"Sleeping against the window?" He tutted. "What happened to you?"
"What are you doing here?" Draco croaked.
Harry smiled and moved to perch on the edge of the bed. He stretched his arms high with a yawn then flopped back, landing across Draco's legs. "I said I'd return, didn't I?"
Draco nodded. In some weird sense he was afraid to touch Harry. What if he wasn't real?
"Hey, are you okay?" Harry sat up and touched his forehead. "We won, you know. Of course you know; the Daily Prophet is on the table. Mrs Weasley is making dinner this evening. I'm not sure if it's a victory party or to honour those who died, probably a mixture."
Draco nodded. "Why should I care?" He leaned into Harry's touch.
"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I know you don't like the Wealseys and all but you need to get out of this cabin." He glanced out the window. "Before you get snowed in."
"I can Apparate."
"I know."
Suddenly Draco's fist connected with Harry's chin. Harry reeled back, hand clutching the forming bruise, gawking. "Why'd it take you four days to come to me? I've been waiting forever! I was worried. Worried! And I shouldn't be because it's just you but --"
Harry kissed him. "I was in Saint Mungo's. Just was released a few hours ago. Didn't you read that in the Daily Prophet?"
Draco was still stunned from the kiss.
Harry bit his top lip, looking unsure now. "I'm sorry about that. I thought... Well, never mind what I thought. Sorry."
"You're an idiot," Draco muttered because it was true. Then he pulled Harry close and kissed him. They fell backwards, lips fussed together.
"And you're evil, punching me because I was in Saint Mungo's."
"Quiet, you prat." And they kissed, the storm rattling the house and filling that last little hole of clear glass so it all was frost, but Draco didn't care because Harry was back and Harry was kissing him and he'd gotten one good punch in. All in all, he was quite content.
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Length: 913
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: It had been four days, five hours, forty-eight minutes and three seconds since the war had ended.
Note: For lire_casander. ♥ This is my attempt at making you feel better from my last story. *g*
It was snowing, coming down in torrents. It landed on the window, frosting it over and leaving only a small clear patch in the centre for grey eyes to peer out of. The war had ended exactly four days, five hours -- Draco checked the clock -- forty-eight minutes and three, now four seconds ago.
Five seconds.
Six seconds.
Seven seconds.
Counting seconds wasn't going to make him appear. And it sure wasn't going to make time go any faster.
The Daily Prophet sat on the corner of the kitchen table behind him. It had been there for four days. Somehow they had managed to get the paper out even when the last battle was ragging. Petty things to be so worried about doing. Draco hadn't looked at it. The other three sat next to it.
He only knew the war was over because in giant bold letters, impossible to ignore, it read 'He-Who-Must-Now-Be-Named Thwarted For Good.' He wasn't about to read the actual article. It was easier to think Harry alive and not coming to him than dead.
But Harry would have come to him, wouldn't he? That's what he said one week ago, before telling Draco he had to stay in the cabin (as if he was going to offer his life up to fight) and leaving. Maybe Harry had decided someone who was too afraid to join the war wasn't worth his time. It's not like he was anything to Harry besides a burden that he had to keep safe because the burden had decided mid-way through that he didn't want to be on the Dark Lord's side. Didn't want to be on anyone's side, really.
Of course Harry had been the perfect person to go to for safety. And to Draco's surprise Harry had given him safety in the means of a cabin out in the middle of some abandoned snow-filled field. Draco supposed there were some powerful charms on the cabin because the Dark Lord hadn't found him through the mark.
His head fell against the cold glass with a soft thump. His fingers itched to touch parchment and read that article, to know if Harry was dead or had forgotten about him. But he was too afraid to. What if Harry was dead? Who did he have then? His parents were in Azkaban, Harry had told him. Many of his friends had probably died in the war.
All he had was Harry. And what was Harry? Not a friend, although lately Draco wouldn't have minded something more than that. Was he just the person that kept Draco safe? 'Hero' fluttered across Draco's mind and wouldn't Harry like to know that. But Harry wasn't his hero. No one was.
The glass on his forehead had warmed up enough from his body heat to not hurt. His closed his eyes against the blinding swirling white and blocked everything out.
When he awoke he was laying in his bed, tucked under the blankets. He didn't remember walking to his room. Had he sleepwalked?
"You're awake."
Draco's spine nearly broke at the force of his body whipping around. Harry was sitting in the chair next to the bed. He smelled fresh and soapy. His hair was damp and the room had that feeling of wet warmth that let Draco know Harry had recently exited the shower.
"Sleeping against the window?" He tutted. "What happened to you?"
"What are you doing here?" Draco croaked.
Harry smiled and moved to perch on the edge of the bed. He stretched his arms high with a yawn then flopped back, landing across Draco's legs. "I said I'd return, didn't I?"
Draco nodded. In some weird sense he was afraid to touch Harry. What if he wasn't real?
"Hey, are you okay?" Harry sat up and touched his forehead. "We won, you know. Of course you know; the Daily Prophet is on the table. Mrs Weasley is making dinner this evening. I'm not sure if it's a victory party or to honour those who died, probably a mixture."
Draco nodded. "Why should I care?" He leaned into Harry's touch.
"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I know you don't like the Wealseys and all but you need to get out of this cabin." He glanced out the window. "Before you get snowed in."
"I can Apparate."
"I know."
Suddenly Draco's fist connected with Harry's chin. Harry reeled back, hand clutching the forming bruise, gawking. "Why'd it take you four days to come to me? I've been waiting forever! I was worried. Worried! And I shouldn't be because it's just you but --"
Harry kissed him. "I was in Saint Mungo's. Just was released a few hours ago. Didn't you read that in the Daily Prophet?"
Draco was still stunned from the kiss.
Harry bit his top lip, looking unsure now. "I'm sorry about that. I thought... Well, never mind what I thought. Sorry."
"You're an idiot," Draco muttered because it was true. Then he pulled Harry close and kissed him. They fell backwards, lips fussed together.
"And you're evil, punching me because I was in Saint Mungo's."
"Quiet, you prat." And they kissed, the storm rattling the house and filling that last little hole of clear glass so it all was frost, but Draco didn't care because Harry was back and Harry was kissing him and he'd gotten one good punch in. All in all, he was quite content.