The Rest of Their Lives
Draco Malfoy had spent his whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Waiting for things to fall apart.
Waiting for the moment when something good would be ripped away.
But now—
Now, he was learning what it felt like to stay.
To wake up and know there would be another tomorrow.
To look at Harry Potter and know—really know—that this was real.
That they were real.
And that, for the first time in his life, Draco was allowed to want it.
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Draco woke up slowly.
Which was new.
Because for so long, mornings had been something he survived.
Something he struggled through.
Something that reminded him he was still here, even when he didn’t want to be.
But now—now, things were different.
Now, there was warmth.
A steady weight against his back.
A slow, even breath against his neck.
And when Draco opened his eyes, he wasn’t alone.
Because Harry was there.
Still tangled in the sheets.
Still pressed up against him.
Still sleeping like he had no intention of moving anytime soon.
Draco took a shaky breath.
Let it settle in.
This was real.
Harry was real.
And Draco was alive to see it.
That—that was still terrifying.
But it was also something else.
Something Draco had never dared to believe in before.
Something like forever.
Draco shifted slightly, fingers brushing against the blankets, unsure what to do with himself.
He wasn’t used to this.
To mornings that felt like beginnings instead of endings.
To waking up and knowing there was no fight left to fight.
To being held like he was something worth keeping.
And then—
A grumble from behind him.
Draco stiffened.
Then—a sleepy voice, groggy and warm:
“You’re thinking too much again.”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“Maybe if you had a brain, you’d try using it too.”
Harry chuckled.
The sound was soft. Unhurried.
And God, Draco liked it.
Harry tightened his grip, pulling Draco closer instead of letting go.
And Draco—Draco let him.
For once, Draco let him.
Because, for the first time, he wasn’t afraid.
They stayed like that for a while.
Wrapped up in something fragile, something real, something they didn’t quite have words for yet.
And that was okay.
Because not everything needed words.
Sometimes, things could just be.
And this—this could be one of those things.
Draco sighed.
Finally, he said, “So… what now?”
Harry hummed, pressing his face into Draco’s shoulder like he was thinking about it.
Then, sleepily—“Breakfast?”
Draco snorted.
“Potter, if you think I’m leaving this bed anytime soon, you really are an idiot.”
Harry grinned against his skin.
“Alright,” he murmured.
Then, softer—“Then I’ll stay.”
Draco’s chest ached.
But this time—this time, it didn’t hurt.
This time, it just felt like home.
Draco still didn’t know what came next.
Didn’t know what life was supposed to look like now that he had one again.
Didn’t know how to be someone who got to stay.
But Harry was here.
And Draco was here.
And that?
That was enough.
So Draco took a breath.
Let it fill his lungs without pain.
And finally—**for the first time in his life—**he let himself believe in tomorrow.
Because for once, tomorrow didn’t feel so far away.
They survived. They found each other. And now?
Now, they get to figure out the rest together.