Do what feels right.
4
Do what feels right.
Harry didn’t know why he did it. It just… felt right at the moment. He always did what felt right, even if it hurt afterwards or even if it sent him to his death. He just did and did. This was no different from the others. Draco’s body molded right into his. It felt right having him in his arms. It felt right feeling Draco’s face buried on his shoulders, his breaths coming in slow and hitching a little as if he was crying silently.
He cradled Malfoy’s body against him, tightening ever so slightly when he felt the blonde’s arms reaching up to embrace him back. He whispered an apology and ran his other hand hesitantly over Draco’s soft and long hair. It felt right. He wondered if it would still feel right if he had done it earlier. Maybe it did.
“Tell me if you need anything and I will make it happen,” he whispered, then slightly pulled back by having his hands on Draco’s narrow shoulders.
He looked into his grey eyes, seeing the pool of complex emotions hidden beneath. He figured to do anything that Draco would ask him to. And he did, really. He did back then and he would now. When Draco asked to be protected from the side his father stood in the war—even indirectly, even non-verbally— Harry understood and he did.
When Draco looked at him with tear-stricken eyes as he sat in the middle of the Ministry Court as a handful of officials shouted their opinions to one another, Harry understood and he did. He stood up with a slam of his palm to the wooden desk and there he testified for Draco. He didn’t wait to be called up, he couldn’t. Not when Draco was being subjected to that atrocity.
Now that Draco embraces him back, his eyes stricken with grief, Harry knew what to do. And it was what felt right.
Draco nodded again. Slowly, this time. As if gauging what has happened and what Harry just said.
“Are you staying with anyone tonight?” Harry asked, gently guiding Draco to sit.
They sat together with a respectable (kind of) space in between them. That space mocked Harry. It mocked him, threatening him to close it. To stay near and to touch. To cross what little boundary they had for each other. But he was a man of control, so he stayed put and forced himself to feel content to have Draco at arm’s length.
“No,” Draco replied after a beat. He had no family, after all. To whom should he stay with?
He looked at his palms resting on his lap, fiddling with his long and slender fingers idly.
“I’d like to stay with you, then,” Harry said, looking at Draco’s hand and then at him.
Draco paused and looked up at Harry with furrowed brows.
“What?” he asked, clearly baffled.
“I’d like to stay. With you,” Harry repeated, watching Draco’s grey eyes widen slightly.
Draco inwardly scoffed. Was this a dream? If this is, this is absolutely mean. He adjusted himself so he could face Harry properly, their knees touched together and that sent a little jolt of electricity towards the both of them. But neither showed it.
“Sorry? But why?” Draco asked, slightly stuttering.
“You’re mourning and you’re alone, except for Jolly. I want to make sure you’re okay,” Harry replied with a small smile on his lips.
His hardened eyes by the war were kind and gentle as he looked upon Draco. It made the blonde’s heart jump.
“I’m fine, Potter,” he said and looked away.
He was fine. He didn’t cry in the early mornings when the doctor confirmed that his mother was dead. He didn’t cry when he was writing the letter to several people announcing that his mother was dead.
“Draco, please,” Harry gently insisted, chasing Draco’s eyes.
Please? Why would the Head Auror, the Golden Boy, the War Hero of the Wizarding World plead to stay with Draco? Why did he look at Draco with that gentle gaze or smiled at him with those soft smiles? Draco didn’t know. He figured he didn’t know a lot of things about Harry. He just ignored how those words and those things made his heart warm. A little too warm.
“But why?” Draco asked again, looking at Harry.
“I just told you–” Harry said, but was cut off by Draco.
“I know what you said, Potter. But why would you want to stay with me?” Draco clarified.
Harry just looked into his eyes, switching to look on the left then the right one. He didn’t know it himself, really.
“It just feels right,” he breathed out.
Draco paused. He was doing this because… it felt right? Because Draco was raised the way he was, he took Harry’s words and twisted it until it was unrecognizable. He thought Harry made fun of him, or was pitying him, or it was simply just Harry’s saviour complex. Never mind their shared embrace earlier, Draco was new to this that he instinctively took it as hostility against him.
“I’m not a charity case, Potter,” Draco scoffed and stood up.
Harry frowned and instinctively held Draco’s wrist.
“Humor me, yes?” Harry said, standing up to his full height and looking down upon Draco.
“And why should I? Because ‘it feels right’? Sorry, Potter. I’m not as hospitable as you,” he spat and tried to move away but Harry’s grip was firm and he didn’t even budge one bit.
“Stop twisting my words, Draco,” he firmly said, the sudden change in his tone making Draco look up at him with slightly widened eyes.
But then his eyes sharpened and changed into a glare.
“Get off of me, Potter,” he hissed.
Harry softly sighed and nodded, letting Draco go. He watched as the blonde walked away with furrowed brows, opening the chapel door and leaving.