The String Of Pearls
Emerging into the room slowly, Draco hoped Harry wouldn’t be there. To his relief, he wasn’t.
He’d lost control of his stomach after their fight, and washed the vomit off his chin in the bathroom. He searched for new clothes, putting them on sluggishly, feeling dirty with regret.
His chest ached, little anxieties nipping at his skin. He scanned the room miserably, Harry’s empty bed plucking at his heart strings.
He had no clue why he bailed so quickly back out in the snow, why he avoided how he so clearly felt. It just felt like the safest option. Then maybe he wouldn’t get hurt again.
His jaw tighten. Without hesitating, he slipped a hand under the corner of Harry’s mattress, lifting it with ease. The bottle of poison was long gone, which he knew. What he didn’t know was that it had been replaced by photographs. Not just photographs, but letters too.
They were all of him and Draco. And there were the letters from their week apart for winter break. Draco had assumed Harry would’ve thrown them away, but here they were, safe and sound.
God fucking damn it.
He felt stupid for crying, cupping a hand over his mouth. He sat atop Harry’s bed feeling more ashamed than ever.
The minutes turned into hours. Draco had fallen asleep after five hours of lying on the Gryffindors bed, staring at the ceiling, messing with wandless spells here and there.
He awoke groggily to a noise of a door opening. His eyes jolted wide awake, wondering if it was Harry.
Goddamn it, Ron.
“The hell do you want?” The blonde spat, clearly still a bit befuddled from the sleep he endured.
“Thought you might want to be the first to make amends,” Ron said calmly, dangling a silver key between his fingers. “Maybe swallow that Malfoy pride of yours and say you’re sorry.”
The nerve of that redhead. Draco shot him a bone chilling look.
Ron went on, “Look, he clearly likes you, you clearly like him. How much longer are you gonna punish yourself?”
He had a point. Draco couldn’t hate him for that as much as he really wanted to.
Without giving himself a chance to change his mind, he got up and grabbed the key from Ron. “Where is he?”
“Gryffindor library.”
“You have your own library?”
Ron chuckled, “Hermione insisted on it.”
Draco followed Ron’s instructions to the secretive library. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever entered the Gryffindor common room before, the walls were a sleek red with golden hints scattered across the room. It was warm and cheery, clearly a place Harry would fit in well.
He used the key to unlock a small door between two bookshelves, opening it to emerge into a lovely cramped library hidden within the walls.
Draco crept into the room, taken in by the hanging plants and flying books. He could spend hours here and never leave.
The best part? They were all muggle books. Every single one. He saw a copy of the Odyssey float by and he quickly grabbed it. He longed to read a book like that.
As he walked through the the small library, his hands became heavily occupied by several books, all different shapes and sizes.
His mood brightened as he collected his reading material for the next five months.
“Didn’t see you come in,” A voice came from behind him. Draco screamed, the books falling out of his hands in a panic.
He turned around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Harry sat in a navy beanbag tucked away in a corner, Hermione’s cat curled up in his lap.
“I thought you hated Crookshanks,” Draco stared.
“He can be quite comforting.” He paused. “Don’t tell ‘Mione I said that.”
Draco noticed a book sitting not too far from Harry’s lap, scanning the cover. “Is that a copy of-“The String of Pearls? Yes.”
“Where the hell did you find it?” Draco was stunned, a shameful smile spreading across his face.
“This library has everything,” Harry commented, passing the book to the Slytherin. He took the book quickly into his hands, flipping through the delicate pages. He’d searched for a copy for months with no luck of finding one, yet here it was, in the palm of his hands.
Draco fell silent.
“I.. I do love you, by the way. I mean, as much as I’m capable of loving anyone, which is never enough,” He winced, “I’m sorry.”
Harry stared up at him. Crookshanks stirred in his lap, the tiny bell on his collar ringing softly.
Draco’s confession with no response left his legs shaky. When Harry continued to stay silent, he felt trapped. “Goddamn it, say something!”
Crookshanks meowed as Harry gently lifted him off his lap, before getting up to Draco’s level.
The blonde’s once strong posture had faltered now that the brunette was up close and personal.
Before he could get in another word Harry had landed his lips on Draco’s.
His lips were chapped and clearly gnawed on whenever the Gryffindor was stressed, but they felt like pure heaven to Draco.
Harry wasn’t sure if what he did was right, but as Draco’s soft lips melted into his, his hesitation quickly faded away. He cupped Draco’s face in his hands, moving his lips from the Slytherin’s mouth, scattering gentle but frantic kisses all over his cheeks and nose.
Draco was more than overwhelmed by what was happening. He could barely stand, practically putty in Harry’s hands.
This went on for a minute or two before Draco could no longer feel the prickle of kisses. He opened his eyes to see Harry pull away from him, placing a single kiss on the back of Draco’s hand, before exiting the library.