Chapter Thirty-Five
The silence that followed was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before. He and Draco stood facing each other, neither one of them speaking, both uncertain of where to go from here. The tension in the air was thick, so thick it felt like it could suffocate them if they didn't do something—anything—to break it.
Draco was still close, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, eyes staring intently at Harry. Harry couldn't quite tell what he was feeling—whether it was confusion, frustration, or something else entirely. But it didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. All that mattered was what was standing between them, and that was something neither of them had the courage to face fully until now.
"Potter," Draco said, breaking the silence with a low, almost gravelly voice. "What the fuck are we doing?"
The question hit Harry like a punch to the gut, his stomach twisting with anxiety. He had no answer, not one that made any sense. All he knew was that the world had changed between them. There was no going back now. The pretending, the masks they had worn, the lies—everything had just come crashing down in a single moment. And as much as he wished he could go back to before, he knew he couldn't.
"Maybe," Harry said quietly, forcing the words through his throat, "we're finally being honest with each other."
Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "Honest?" he repeated. "I'm not even sure what the fuck that means anymore, Potter."
"I don't know either," Harry admitted, his voice shaking just a little. "But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending like I don't feel—" He stopped himself, realizing just how dangerous those words were. How dangerous it was to admit it, to say it out loud. But it was already too late.
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, something flickering in them, something almost unreadable. "Feel what? What, exactly, do you feel?"
"I don't know." Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing pulse. "I just know that this—whatever this is between us—it's real. I feel it. And I think you do, too."
Draco looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched. Harry could see the internal battle waging within him—he was trying to hold onto the mask, to the walls he had so carefully built over the years. But those walls were cracked, and Harry knew it.
"I don't need this," Draco muttered after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't need you. I don't need any of this mess."
Harry's heart sank at the words, but he didn't back down. He stepped forward, close enough that they were almost touching. "Then why did you kiss me?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion.
Draco's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—something Harry couldn't place. "Because I'm fucking human, Potter. And maybe, just maybe, you're the only person who's ever made me feel like this."
Harry blinked, his breath catching in his throat. The words were almost too much to bear, too fragile, too real. It felt like a confession, an admission of everything they had both been avoiding.
"I can't do this alone," Draco said, his voice suddenly quieter, softer. "I can't be this thing with you, whatever it is, if it's just me fighting for it. I need you to stop pretending like this is just some stupid game, like I'm not... like I'm not... I don't know. Worth it."
Harry's chest tightened at the vulnerability in Draco's voice. He had always been so guarded, so sure of his distance. But now, all that confidence seemed to be crumbling in front of him, leaving only a raw, exposed version of Draco that Harry didn't know how to handle.
"You are worth it," Harry said, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, brushing his fingers against Draco's arm in a gesture that felt both unfamiliar and perfectly natural at the same time. "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
The words felt like a promise. A promise Harry hadn't even realized he needed to make until now.
For a long moment, Draco didn't respond. But then, slowly, he closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to grip the sides of Harry's shirt, pulling him in until their faces were inches apart. Harry's heart raced in his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself feel every inch of the uncertainty, the fear, and the desire that swirled between them.
"I don't know how to do this, Harry," Draco admitted, his voice trembling. "I don't know how to let someone in. But I think I want to try."
And then, as if the words had been enough to break the dam, their lips met again. This time, it wasn't just about proving a point or making a statement. It was real. Raw. Unfiltered.
It was everything Harry had been denying, everything he had been afraid to admit. It was love, or the beginning of it. It was the start of something he hadn't even realized he needed.
As they pulled away, Draco rested his forehead against Harry's, eyes closed. "This isn't going to be easy," he murmured.
"I know," Harry whispered back. "But I think we can make it work."
And for the first time, it didn't feel like a lie.