and all i want at thirty-one is...
I swore to myself I'd never fall in love... not after seeing how it destroyed my mother time and time again.
And then you became the youngest seeker in Hogwart's history and I remember thinking that must be exactly how Mum felt looking at Father. I didn't know we would be the exact opposite of best friends yet; I still held out hope you'd come around and see how funny I was and want to hang out with me instead. I think that instead was always my problem. I wanted you to pick me instead of Weasley (insert any Weasley of your choice, really). I wanted you to go to the library with me and not Hermione. I wanted you to walk around the castle with me and not Luna. I wanted and wanted and wanted your attention and then I finally got it... just not in the way I wanted. Not even now. I know my eleven-year-old self would kill to be friends like we are and all I want at thirty-one is more.
Merlin, I want more.
I want to push the curls back out of your eyes, kiss the frown lines away, and promise you it will be alright.
Draco finally opens his mouth to promise Harry everything will be alright, but the S.P.U.D.F.C.K.R.S git says it before he can. Harry turns toward Gene, tangling their hands together in the process. And if Draco orders a triple pour, well, he's had a rough day at work too.