POV Draco
“No, No, come back please!” Draco desperately reached out to Harry.
Harry’s eyes were wide with fear, but he didn’t cower away from the bed any further. Breathing was hard as his throat felt like it was burning and Draco tried to get the covers off to get to Harry.
“Please come back,” he panted.
Hesitantly, Harry put a step towards Draco. “You’re- you’re alive? How can that be?” His face was devoid from color and he was clenching his fists. “I thought I’d killed you.”
Draco was still breathing shortly, his chest heaving with every breath, but the burning had seized. He was still so weak, sitting up was nearly impossible. A whimper had Harry come closer to the bed and Draco realized that it came from his own lips. He whimpered again. Having Harry so far away hurt. His hands trembled as he still tried to get himself free from the covers.
Rough hands clasped his thin wrists. With a jerk, he looked up at Harry, who was leaning over him. Clear green eyes looked back. A shiver ran down his spine. If it was from the cold or the fear for another rejection, Draco didn’t know. Maybe that was what dying did to you. He should ask Harry, he thought absently. He had experienced dying too, after all.
The warm hands disappeared from his wrists and the covers were tugged away from his shaking hands. A warm body slipped into the bed, bumping softly into his own. He turned to Harry, who huffed out a breath. Draco’s shoulders dropped and he could finally breath a little easier. His mate was by his side.
“What changed?” Draco asked.
He was still trembling and had wrapped his arms around himself. He leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He was very glad to be alive and to be able to think again, but his mind felt like it was filled with clouds. There was no understanding this situation. Draco thought Harry hated him and had left him to die. He really needed someone to clear things up for him.
“Harry? I don’t understand.” He looked at Harry sideways.
Harry’s curly hair glowed in the early morning sun that filtered through the curtains. He wasn’t looking at Draco. Draco ignored the twinge of pain that flared up in his chest.
“Could you- could you please look at me?” he croaked.
“No.” Harry said.
Now Draco did wince in pain. But then his senses, heightened by his Veela, picked up a salty twang in the air. He leaned a little to his left, where Harry was seated against the headboard. Harry sniffed once and Draco knew instantly that there were tears dripping from Harry’s eyes. Reaching out slowly, to prevent scaring him, he cupped Harry’s face and turned it so that Harry had no choice but to look at him.
Harry’s face was indeed tear streaked and a deep frown was edged between his brows.
“Good.” Draco murmured.
Harry was letting Draco touch him and wasn’t recoiling in disgust. A good sign, he told the Veela. The only things Draco could spot in Harry’s gaze were sadness and anger. And so much guilt.
“I think you owe it me an explaination, Harry. Tell me what happened.”
Harry closed his eyes and gripped Draco’s unoccupied hand. Harry probably wasn’t aware of it, but he nuzzled against the hand that Draco had still lightly resting on Harry’s face. He then began to speak.
“I didn’t know you would d-die. I just thought if I rejected you, you would back off and find a new mate. Someone who better suited you. I don’t deserve-” He swallowed and another tear fell. “I didn’t realize it was this bad, until Narcissa, eh- your mother send me that second letter. I thought you were dead, I thought I had killed you. You were so cold and still. Your father- he- You weren’t breathing!”
“I think I did die.” Draco mused. He felt rather calm, now that he wasn’t dead, or in agony, and his mate was by his side. But he did feel hollow and incomplete. Something was still missing. Like a puzzle, missing a piece.
Harry’s breath stoked. “You died? But you came back.” He slumped, shoulders curling into himself. “I did really kill you.” he whispered.
Draco hummed. He dropped his hand from Harry’s face and let his head rest on Harry’s broad shoulder. Very strong, he thought distracted. A big yawn gave away how utterly exhausted he was. “It’s fine, it’s all fine,” he said, his speech slurred by sleep. Curling up around Harry, who was warm and smelled so good, he fell asleep.
–-
In the following days, Draco decided he was going to move to Grimmauld place. It was a one-man decision, as Harry barely spoke to him. He knew he was imposing on Harry, but he was still in so much pain that he couldn’t bare the thought of leaving his mate. And Draco guessed that having Harry move to Malfoy Manor wasn’t an option. He was hesitant to tell him parents, he feared they wouldn’t like it and it would for sure hurt them to leave Draco to Harry’s care.
After the initial shock of him being alive, his parents had stayed close by, barely letting him out of their sight. His mother had drenched his shirt in tears as she hugged him and he had never wanted to let go. His father hadn’t cried. With a face still white as snow, he had wrapped his arms around Draco just as he had done when Draco had been a little boy.
“Thank Merlin,” he had whispered. And where his mother would tear up in the middle of a conversation, his father would just stare, lost in thought. This whole ordeal had left its marks on all of them.
When Draco told his parents about the move, they did indeed wholeheartedly disagreed. It was all coming from a place of love, Draco knew, but it was still hard for him to stick to his decision. He didn’t want to hurt them by leaving, yet it was clearly what he needed.
It was all very hard on his parents and in the midst of it they forgot to be nice to Harry. Not that they had much reason to be, Harry had, after all, rejected Draco so severely that he wasted away. But it would have helped Draco to know that his parents accepted Harry being in the room. Draco couldn’t fault them for that, it just irked his Veela that his parents weren’t too fond of his mate.
Harry himself had been quiet, too quiet for Draco to get a proper read on him. When Draco had said, well pleaded more like it, that he wanted to move in with Harry to be close to him and to recover faster, Harry had shrugged.
Just shrugged.
Like it didn’t matter that much to him. And Draco had felt the sting, the burn in his heart once again. He had choked up, rubbing furiously at his chest. “Ha-rry.” and Harry hadn’t ran away, he had stayed. He held Draco tightly and had played with Draco’s hair until he calmed down. Draco could still heard him whisper; “I’m fine with you moving in. It’s good. I’m sorry.”
Of course it wasn’t fine, and Draco knew it. It was too fast and too abrupt. Nobody was ready for this, but it was so much better than dying.
POV Harry
Harry didn’t know what to do. He was so used to looking at Malf-Draco with contempt and anger that now when it mattered, he failed to give Draco what he needed. Failed to even see what Draco needed.
He’d been shocked beyond himself when he woke up beside a warm body that used to be cold. Should be cold.
All kind of scenarios ran through his head as he scrambled out of bed as fast as he could. What the fuck had happened? The dried up tear-tracks itched on his face and the reason for them was sitting well and alive on the hospital bed. There wasn’t time for shock, so he pushed that away as quick as he could, in a far off corner of his mind.
The guilt came barreling in and he wasn’t able to stop it. Losing his composure, with his save, strong walls of anger crumbling, a few tears slipped out. He truly had killed Draco. It broke him, and in that moment it didn’t matter how strong he had to be, all that mattered was that there was someone that listened. And harry let himself have the illusion that Draco saw and knew all that he felt. Just for a second, he didn’t have to hide.
He didn’t think himself to be trustworthy, and yet Draco laid his head on Harry’s shoulder and fell asleep. In that moment Harry felt so brittle, like a simple sigh from Draco could break him. He wrapped a careful arm around Draco’s thin frame. If anyone would break and shatter, it would be Draco. There was no room for Harry’s pain and doubts, he had to help Draco and know what he needed. Harry tightened his arm around the warm body beside him. Draco had to come first.
--
Draco said he wanted, no needed, to move in with Harry. It was fine. Really, it was. It had to be. Narcissa and Lucius didn’t like it one bit and Harry hated himself a little more. Of course they wouldn’t like him to take care of Draco, whom Harry had Hurt. He swallowed it down.
Once Draco had recovered enough to leave the hospital, Harry found himself at Malfoy Manor with the three Malfoys by his side. It should feel threatening, but the weight and warmth of Draco’s hand wrapped around his arm settled his nerves.
Draco stood surprisingly steady on his side. His chin was slightly tilted up and for a change, Harry was happy to see him almost back to his old quirks.
“Well, let’s go,” Draco said impatient, all but dragging Harry with him as he marched through the doors of the Manor.
The first thing Harry noticed was the smell. The air was dense with dust and despair. It smelled like dying. Draco halted in his steps. “Oh.” He breathed out softly.
As a beam of light, Narcissa walked in and Harry had never been more relieved to have her in the room. She frowned and with a whisk of her wand she aired out the whole room. The curtains swiped open and a sent of lilies wavered through the air. She nodded in approval.
“That’s better. Draco? Are you up for retaining your stuff?” She looked hesitating at him.
Draco audibly gulped and Harry reached for his hand. He didn’t know if it was for Draco’s support or his own.
–-
Draco’s room was an utter mess. Blankets were strung around the room, dusty gray feathers on every surface and Harry could feel the pain in the air. Draco looked around and shrunk into himself. The shame on his face made Harry scream internally. He blew out a breath and squeezed Draco’s hand.
“What do you want to take with you?” he asked softly, trying not to disturb the painful, fragile understanding between them.
“My nest. I mean, the blankets. And, ah, some pictures? I’ll ask mother to send my wardrobe after me. Maybe my broom?” Draco stilled. “Not my broom. I won’t need it.”
Won’t need it?
Draco smirked slightly at him, as if not sure if he was allowed. “Wings, remember?” He wiggled the shabby looking contraptions at his back that Harry would not consider wings.
Harry raised an eyebrow, flying with those things wouldn’t be possible for a long time. Draco sighed and dropped his gaze at the ground.
“I know they’re not much to look at now, but they’re magnificent once they’ve healed.”
Harry scoffed, and really, he didn’t even know why he scoffed. It was mean and not necessary and if he could, he would take it back immediately.
It was that he was standing close to Draco, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the quiet whine coming from Draco. The Veela was rubbing at his chest furiously. Worried, Harry rushed to correct his dumb mistake. A Veela’s wings probably were its pride and joy, just like with Hippogriffs
“Shit, sorry! Yes, I can’t wait to see them!” It sounded rehearsed and like he didn’t mean it.
Draco smiled a watery smile and when to pick up the blankets he wanted to take. He had a lot of blankets, Harry thought. Most of them looked soft and warm and- was that blood?
Harry blanched. “Draco-” Draco chirped at the sound of his name, “-what’s that? Is that blood?”
Quickly, Draco hid the rosy pink blanket with a blood stain as big as Harry’s hand behind his back.
Harry wanted to leave right now. He wanted to leave this room, this war-zone and all the bloody blankets in it.
“I assume you won’t take that one with you?”
Draco dropped the blanket on the ground. “No. No I won’t.” Draco’s voice trembled.
He gathered the rest of the blankets in his arms and gave them to Harry. He then walked over to a big chest with the Malfoy crest on it besides Draco’s bed that Harry hadn’t noticed before. After opening it, he tossed in several trinkets from around the room without any care. When he seemed satisfied, Draco locked the chest up and lifted in into the air with a featherlight charm. He looked around the room and then returned his gaze to Harry.
“Ready?” Harry asked. With a brief nod Draco passed Harry by and strode out of the room.
POV Draco
Settling in wasn’t easy. His room was cold and he still felt brittle. The trip from the hospital to the manor and then to Grimmauld place had cost him all the reserves he had build up at the hospital.
Not to mention that Harry… well, it hurted, still, when Harry scoffed, groaned and growled at every wrong move Draco made. Harry had saved him from dying, but that didn’t resolve the issue of the gaping hole inside Draco’s chest that grew cold with every hurtful comment from Harry. It was so confusing, because the second Harry realized Draco was in pain, he soothed Draco, comforted him until the pain ebbed away. Until he could breath again and the cold feeling inside had lessened.
Draco wished Harry would stop, with what he didn’t know.
When they got to Grimmauld place, Harry had led him straight to his new room. After making a nest with all the blankets he could find, Draco curled up in it, exhausted from all the turmoil. Even when he wrapped the blankets tightly around himself, he was freezing. They did nothing for the cold, which Draco suspected to be coming from within, but they offered him some sense of peace. Some of the blankets were a gift from Harry and still carried his smell. That calmed his nerves a bit. He buried his nose in the blankets and pretended he was back in that hospital bed with Harry holding him.
From this room, Regulus’ room Harry had told him, he could heard Harry twist and turn in the room on the other side of the hallway. Draco sighed. Harry was still closer to him than before.
–-
Harry was very quiet, Draco noticed. In the first few days, he barely spoke to Draco. It was always Draco that initiated the conversation, asking about the house, about the renovations and about the strange hole in the wall in the dining room. Harry’s answers were short and Draco still couldn’t get a proper read on the man. It drove him up the wall.
The brittle feeling had disappeared when he started to spend more time with Harry, following him around for a bit and just being in the same room as him. He tried to not invade Harry’s space when it wasn’t needed, but that often didn’t work out. Draco felt drawn to Harry to an extraordinary extend.
It was hard to guess if Harry just tolerated him, or might even appreciate his presence, because he didn’t actually talk to Draco, but Draco tried to make himself useful anyway.
He thought himself of a pretty big help, especially when they cooked dinner together. Harry was rubbish in the chopping of vegetables and Draco had always been the best, well second best, in potions, therefore chopping the vegetables up in perfect little cubes.
His recovering went smoothly, he felt stronger every day. Climbing the stairs wasn’t as excruciating as the first day and he felt his strength returning. He visibly improved as well, his shoulders filled out and his legs were strong and thick. This might be the strongest he had ever felt, thank you Veela genes. He cursed his Veela more often than not, but this was one of the better sides of being a big scary bird-man.
But all healed, completely recovered, he couldn’t call himself. His heart and throat still burned on occasion, when he hadn’t seen Harry for some time, and there was a never ending loneliness in his bones. A cold that he couldn’t shake. In the middle of the night, when he couldn’t sleep, it overwhelmed him. Those nights he listened to Harry’s steady breathing in the room across of his and cried.
--
He was so cold. Grimmauld place was an old home and the floors were freezing. There was one working fireplace in the whole house, as Harry hadn’t come to renovate the others, and Draco was sitting in front of it.
He had dragged a cozy looking rug out of some half destroyed room (seriously, it looked like a Hippogriff had lived there) to cover the floor and was now on it, bundled up with one of his blankets. He hated sitting in chairs, so he used the one that accompanied the fireplace as backrest.
He was humming softly under his breath and staring into the flames when he felt Harry creep into the room. Harry smelled like oranges, clean and straight from the shower.
The room was quiet, besides Draco’s continues humming and the crackling of the fire. Then the floorboards creaked when Harry came closer and dropped in the chair behind Draco. Draco didn’t dare to look up. He shuffled a bit, making space for Harry’s legs. They sat in silence for a while and Draco could feel himself getting lost in thought again.
Then, out of nowhere, he felt hands in his hair. He would’ve jumped, but Harry’s smell surrounded him and he relaxed.
“Hello Harry, darling. What are you doing?”
“Your hair, it’s all matted and fizzy. That’s all.” It was silent for a bit, and then- “And don’t call me darling.”
Draco hummed. His hair was surely matted, but he could sense the lie in Harry’s voice.
“No worries, carry on. Darling,” he rumbled and conveniently leaned back against Harry’s legs.
Harry let him and he couldn’t help but let a purr out in delight. Harry’s hands combed through his hair, sometimes getting stuck on the knots and then untangling them carefully. If Draco closed his eyes, he could almost imagine Harry actually loving him. He sighed. He should count himself lucky that Harry would even put up with him.
POV Harry
It were the little things that kept Harry standing. The extra minute he took to just breath before he got out of bed. The smell of the apple tree in blossom in his backyard. The few seconds of satisfying silence when he finished a renovation project that he’d spend days on.
Now that Draco lived in the house as well, these moments changed. It wasn’t in the silence, it rather was the soft humming Draco seemed to do every moment he was lost in thought. It was the warmth of the fire and a familiar pressure resting against his legs. It was the way Draco couldn’t stop smiling at Harry, making adorable doe eyes and how he kept crooning at him.
Harry hated how much he loved it. He tried to stop it, to push away the warm pit in his stomach that lit up when Draco even looked at him. But the feeling was too tender, too fragile to hurl away to that damned corner in his mind. He settled for keeping it inside, not getting it farther away than the front of his mind. It was hard, but he refused to allow himself to express them. Draco certainly didn’t need Harry’s feelings complicating the careful understanding they had going on.
Draco was doing surprisingly well. The recovering went rather quickly and his chit-chat, the bounce in his steps and his habit of rolling his eyes returned within a week of him staying at Grimmauld place.
Harry tried to avoid him during the day, but Draco was like a fly with honey, attached to Harry’s hip. It should annoy Harry, he wished it would annoy him. But his shallow breathing slowed down when Draco was in the room and the everlasting anger evaporated. It was dangerous, because that very same anger protected him from the sadness and sorrow taking over his mind.
–-
Harry was bowed over, looking around in his closet to find more blankets for Draco, as he had been complaining about being cold again, when he stumbled across a familiar box. He’d placed it there recently, he couldn’t bare to part with it, but putting it somewhere in sight was too confronting.
The box was made of some kind of light wood, Harry guessed it might be birch, and light as a feather. Not that strange, as it did indeed contain a feather.
Draco’s feather.
A pained noise wrestled itself from Harry’s hunched over frame.
Draco was by his side faster than you could say ‘quidditch’.
“Harry darling, everything alright?”
Harry felt him practically vibrating in anticipation, ready to fight whatever danger should occur. He lifted the box without a word, so that Draco could see.
“Oh. You- you kept it?” Draco’s eyes were round with wonder.
“It was a gift. I can’t throw away gifts.”
Draco’s eyes dimmed. “You kept it out of obligation.” He nodded in understanding.
And Harry couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Draco how that single feather meant the world to him. How he wanted it out of sight because it broke his heart every time he looked at it, realizing what he couldn’t have.
So he grunted out an affirmative and placed the box where he’d found it. Rushing out of the room, he left Draco standing with his arms wrapped around his torso as if to hold himself together.
–-
Draco was wiggling on his chair. It was one of the older chairs and Harry had been wanting to replace it even before he started the renovations. That being said, it made a whole lot of noise, creaking the second Draco moved. It drove Harry up the wall.
He was having a bad day, filled with frustration and doubts and he really didn’t want to lash out at Draco. The whole morning he had tried to calm himself by meditating on the kitchen table and just taking a fucking breath, counting to ten, pacing, it didn’t matter. It didn’t work.
Draco had been on edge too, constantly looking anxiously at Harry and wiggling.
With a hiss, Harry jumped down from the kitchen table and strode to the living room, where he started to pace yet again. How he hadn’t already worn a circle in the hardwood floors, he didn’t understand. Clenching his fists, huffing out a breath, relaxing his fists, anything for this restlessness to stop.
The pitter-patter from Draco’s feet made him snap his head up.
POV Draco
This whole day had been tense. Draco woke up shivering from the cold this morning after crying himself to sleep last night and instead of taking his time to wake up, he immediately jumped out of bed in search of Harry. He wanted to feel warm and save.
He found Harry in the kitchen, sitting on the wooden table. It looked very odd, a grown man sitting on the table with his eyes closed and breathing deeply. It should look peaceful, but to Draco it felt off.
Harry was breathing irregular and his upper lip was pulled up a bit, almost like a sneer. It didn’t take long for Harry to move rooms, finding refugee in the living room, where he lit the fire. Draco followed.
After that, Harry took a walk in the backyard. Draco followed, but kept his distance.
Then back in the kitchen, Harry attempted another ‘sitting on the kitchen table, breathing deep, almost sneering’ session. Draco dropped down on his favorite wooden chair and stared at Harry. He wondered what was going on with him.
It didn’t feel right, but he still followed when Harry left the kitchen in a rush.
“Stop follow me!” Harry shrieked.
Draco stepped back in pain and clenched his fists. His chest and throat were burning again. This was not a rejection, he told himself. He could feel the Veela inside whimpering. Harry had said he wanted Draco to be here before. Not that he showed it, but Harry had said it! Draco took a deep breath and decided he couldn’t let this slide.
Draco squared his shoulders, gathering up some courage. “No.”
Now Harry looked hurt, or rather shocked. Draco usually compromised or backed off when Harry threw a fit.
“Not today. I don’t feel good and need to be with you.” Draco said.
Harry groaned. “Go away, I want to be alone.”
Draco stared at Harry. How could this impossible man not understand what Draco meant? Didn’t he listen to Draco?
“You don’t get it, I need to be by your side! I’m not being dramatic or petty!”
“Bullshit!” Harry roared, waving his arms around. “You don’t need me! Leave me alone!”
“I can’t because it hurts Harry! After spending the night crying, I need your warmth and reassurance!”
“What?!” Harry stilled, looking flabbergasted.
“Correction, my Veela needs it. It’s so cold when you’re not-my heart hurts Harry.” Draco’s voice sounded like a whine and he winched.
“I didn’t realized there was something wrong!”
“Really? You’re not dumb Harry, even if you somethings like to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed me being hurt by your words, your rejection. For Merlins sake, I shiver the second you step out of the room. I need you to say it Harry!”
“Say what?” Harry truly sounded confused.
“You don’t know?” Shit, he really didn’t know.
Harry shook his head in confusion. “I didn’t know you were hurting, I thought it was just the shock of dying. What can I do?”
Raking his hands through his hair, Draco sighed. “So stupid. I thought you knew and meant to punish me for… well, I don’t even know what for.”
“Punish you?” Harry stepped towards Draco, right up in his space. “No, I’m just having a really hard time with this all.”
“Oh,” Draco’s anger deflated like a balloon. There wasn’t a punishment, he wasn’t intentionally pushed away.
Harry repeated the question; “What can I do Draco?”
“You need to tell me you love me. That you want me to be here. I died because I thought you hated me and without your love I didn’t want to live. It’s important that you tell me, repeatedly, so that I believe you. I’m a bit eh,” god, he hated feeling this needy. “damaged, you might say. I need reassurance.”
“Okay, yeah, I can do that. Will that help you not being cold?”
“Might take a while. It’s ah, a thing of proximity too. I’ll try not to hover around you when I don’t need it.”
“No, no, that’s alright.” Harry placed his hands carefully on Draco’s arms. He had lovely hands, strong and warm. Draco wanted to hug him, but he held himself back. “I’m growing used to you being close.” Harry blushed shyly, looking anywhere else.
Leaning forwards, Draco placed his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. A soft croon and a sigh slipped out. This was how it should be, save. A hand played with his hair and he could sense Harry was holding his breath.
“I,” Harry stuttered out. “I love you Draco. Love having you here.”
Draco crooned again and pushed his head more firmly into Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you darling,” he murmured.
POV Harry
It felt strange saying it out loud, but somehow they were familiar words. And with Draco’s head resting heavily on Harry’s shoulder, he knew they were true as could be.
He really loved Draco Malfoy.
It wasn’t an overwhelming, all-consuming love, one that made his heartbeat quicken. No, this feeling was soft and kind. Like it was supposed to be there, wrapped around his heart. Like it had always been there, hidden under the agony of war. He knew Draco. He knew the way Draco was sad or angry and he knew that at several moments they had really hated each other. But now Harry also knew Draco’s smile, his tenderness and his ability to care about the little things that mattered.
Harry loved Draco Malfoy, today, tomorrow and yesterday.
And oh, the shame he felt. There was never any reason to be angry with the Veela to begin with. Draco had been cordially all this time. It had been Harry who had been rude, harsh and unreasonable. How many times had he send Draco away without hearing him out? Way too many times.
He’d seen the everlasting shadows under Draco’s eyes, his hunched shoulders and the pain the Veela seemed to radiate. And he had told Draco to go away. He couldn’t imagine how much that had to have hurt. In his anger Harry had ignored it all, desperate to be alone. Locking himself up in Grimmauld place was to never hurt anyone again and yet, he still had. He had almost killed Draco, again.
Harry whimpered. All this anger had turned to rash actions with painful consequences for Draco. Harry never wanted that and he would never let it happen again. He had to stop burdening Draco with his twisted feelings and issues.
--
It was really difficult to stop himself from feeling angry. There was so much to be angry about, but when Harry tried to think about it, it was like he couldn’t form a proper thought anymore. What was he really angry about?
He had no idea. And then came the fear, the all consuming panic. If he didn’t know what he was angry about, was it actually anger that he was feeling? Or was it something that was even more frightening?
He tried finding distraction from the storm inside by throwing himself into the house’s renovations. There was a lot to do and the second he felt some of the fear or anger bubbling up, he went to build something. His hands were busy, his mind was clear.
The downside was having to ignore Draco. Draco’s gray eyes had a strange way of looking into his soul and piercing the carefully constructed walls that protected Harry from an emotional breakdown. Very much not wished for.
It gave him a hollow feeling when he felt Draco’s eyes burn on his back when Harry rushed out of the room yet again, under the pretense of ‘Gotta go, busy. I-eh, love you!’
He never forgot that. The I love you ‘s became part of his routine, just as the good mornings and the good nights had.
What he did forget was that Draco needed more than that. That he needed be be close to Harry, to be touched, needed to be loved in all honesty.
--
There were these moments that Draco found him in the middle of building or taking down something. Harry couldn’t walk away from his projects, so he couldn’t walk away from Draco neither. Draco obviously made use of that and seemed to be able to find Harry anywhere he went.
It might be Veela related, Harry didn’t know. He didn’t know much about Veela anyway.
Having Draco show up and watch him made Harry nervous and his hands would tremble. Draco never did anything, he was just there, watching. But there was something going on with Draco too.
At first Harry failed to notice, but when Draco sought him out more often it was hard to miss. Harry wasn’t the only one not feeling that good. Draco always, always, walked in with a pained expression on his face, rubbing his chest and out of breath. After some time by Harry’s side, his face would smooth out and the rubbing and the panting would stop. It was like there fell a weight off Draco’s shoulders.
Harry desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, he thought telling Draco he loved him would solve Draco being in pain. But clearly it hadn’t been enough at all, Draco was still in pain. He tried asking, but the words had gotten stuck in his throat, not wanting to come out. The fear of accidentally hurting Draco had sunk his claws deep in Harry’s heart, so deep that he couldn’t see that this was hurting Draco all the more.
--
The attic was big and filled with all sorts of oddities. It had taken Harry a whole day to move all of it to one side of the room, so he could work on the other. There was a big space left to move in and Harry had made a temporary workbench to work on the wood he wanted to use until it was to his liking.
He was in the middle of preparing a wooden beam that was supposed to support the roof when he heard Draco coming up the stairs.
He’d put down his saw when Draco slipped into the room. The air was dusty and small particles floated in the light-beams that filtered through the window. Harry breathed in a little too deep when Draco opened the door and promptly erupted in a coughing fit.
Draco was by his side quickly and patted him on the back until Harry was breathing normally again. “Thanks,” he rasped out.
Draco hummed in concern. He left his hand were it was, rubbing circles into Harry’s back. The shivers crept up Harry’s spine and he felt the overwhelming panic trying to take over. Hurriedly, he took a step away from Draco.
Draco was hovering by his side and Harry felt his hands tingle with the need to do something. Without looking at Draco, he picked up his saw and continued his work. Hoping Draco would just leave.
But Draco didn’t leave, he walked back to the door and sat against the wall beside it. Draco Malfoy, on the extremely dirty floor, it was a sight Harry had never imagined to see one day.
Their eyes met for a fragile moment and then Harry ruined it by looking away. Draco kept silent, watching him work. It was an itching feeling, Draco’s eyes on him and Harry felt himself getting nervous. He knew that Draco knew Harry was actively avoiding him. And it didn’t seem like he was going to let it go.
He leaned heavily on the workbench, contemplating if walking away now could be excused and if Draco would stop him. He could stop Harry, Draco had recovered well and was now taller and a bit broader than him. Harry gulped, Draco had gotten really strong and muscular and- No, he had to get out of the room before his feelings could take over and hurt Draco!
The saw dropped to the ground with a loud noise, startling and distracting Draco long enough that Harry could slipped out the door unnoticed.
Running away was weak, Harry thought as he ran down the stairs. It was so unlike him, he knew he was acting ridiculous, but he couldn’t help himself.
POV Draco
“Are you ignoring me?”
Harry was bend over the kitchen table, where he was sketching out some kind of detail of yet another renovation. Draco was fed up with it all.
“Harry.”
Harry hummed and still didn’t look at Draco.
“For fucks sake, Harry! Look at me!”
“I’m not ignoring you. Just busy.” No eye contact.
Was the steam blowing from Draco’s ears? Might as well have been the case. “You’re not looking at me! This whole week, you’ve been renovation like crazy. Project after project. And don’t get me wrong, I’m happy the house feels more whole and like home, but you aren’t talking to me! When I walk in the room, you find an excuse to leave it, when I start up a conversation, you don’t answer, when I ask you how you are, you say you’re fine. That’s not true, that can’t be true! I’m sick of it!” Draco was ranting. His chest hurt and he couldn’t seem to breathe.
Harry cowered away from him, his hands were trembling and Draco hated him.
“You insolent prat!” He pointed his finger aggressively at Harry. “Selfish- You are so selfish!”
His other hand was rubbing his chest furiously in an attempt to ease the pain. His inner Veela was shrieking and wanted him to claw his own eyes out because he screamed at his mate.
“No, I’m not!” Harry shook his head hard. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Well, you do a piss poor job of it! How do you think it makes me feel when I constantly have to look for you if the pain gets too much and I desperately need it to stop? I want to be around you without thinking I’m forcing you to. Am I? You said you love me. Is that- was it a mistake?”
Draco was close to tears now and he felt dizzy. What if he really had forced Harry to say that? It certainly wasn’t a strange thought to have.
“No no, I do love you.” Harry’s eyes were begging Draco to believe him.
Draco let out a sigh. Good, at least he wasn’t mistaken on that.
“Then what in Merlins name is the problem?”
Harry wrung his hands, trying to contain something. Not saying a word, Draco waited. It would come out eventually, Harry was too strung up not to say what was on his mind.
“You don’t actually want me! I can’t give you what you need. I hurt you, I’m angry all the time and I-I killed you! You don’t deserve this wreckage of a person,” Harry gestured at himself. “And I certainly do not deserve your love!”
Silence. Harry was panting heavily. Draco shook in righteous anger.
“Are you done?” Draco was seething. “You don’t get to take that choice from me, that’s mine. It’s my love to give! My Veela might have chosen you as my mate, but I choose you as my partner. My lover. Because I love you! As for your anger, there’s always room for your emotions, just like there is for mine. They can co-exist you idiot. I can tell you what I need and I want to know how you are doing. I want to know you, that’s what mates means!”
Harry’s face was tight with repressed emotions. Earlier Draco would have called it anger, but now he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not. This is not a burden, this is trust.” Draco’s heart broke a little. Harry would never be a burden to him. What was a burden was Harry not communicating and Draco having to guess.
“You make me feel like shit when you don’t tell me what’s wrong and ignore me. It feels like you don’t trust me. Even if you don’t want to talk about it when I ask, tell me that you don’t.”
Harry let out a whimper. “Most of the time I don’t even know how I feel!”
“Then tell me just that darling. Tell me anything. Please.”
Tears fell down on the sketch that Harry had been working on and Draco moved it out of the way. Harry had put a lot of time and work in that and it would be a shame if it was ruined within seconds.
“How do you feel Harry? What can I do to help?”
Harry slumped down in a chair with a creaking sound. With still trembling hands he pushed his hair behind his ears. It was greasy and long, it definitely needed a shower and comb. His cheeks were wet from all the tears. He looked a wreck yet he didn’t seem as strung up as before.
“I thought there would be… I don’t know, more? But I’m just sad. I’m just-” His voices cracked, “I’m just so sad.”
The pain on Harry’s face was a pain that Draco recognized. The pain from barely existing. The sort of pain that was never going to leave, no matter what you tried.
“Oh. Oh darling.” He stepped closer to the lonely, broken man sitting on the creaking chair in the house he’d been trying so hard to make his home. Harry lifted his head and looked into Draco’s eyes. Eyes so green, that had seen so much.
Draco made a pained noise and wrapped his arms around Harry. Planting a kiss on the crown of Harry’s head, he whispered, “I see you. I got you.”
POV Harry
There was a cocoon around them. It stopped Harry’s tears and made his panic vanish. Draco still had his face resting in Harry’s messy curls and didn’t seem to notice. Harry looked at the strange material surrounding them, twisting his head a little from under Draco’s pointy chin.
With subtlety, he reached out a finger to touch it. It was soft and feathery and when Harry touched it, it moved slightly. Draco lets out a sigh and Harry snatched his hand back.
The wings, because that’s what they were, moved in the same rhythm as Draco’s breathing. Draco hummed when Harry reached out again and started to stroke the wings. They loosened a bit around them and the light that entered their cocoon gave the gray wings a glow and the golden spots on them sparked. They are beautiful.
“Wow,” Harry breathed out. The wings shivered with his touch, leaning into his hand the same way that Draco leaned into his body. He was stroking the wings in full earnest now. They vibrated under his hand, strong and sturdy. Draco pushed himself against Harry, humming loudly.
The chair which Harry was sat on, tipped back suddenly. That snapped Draco out of whatever spell he’d been under and before the chair, and Harry with it, fell backwards to the ground, Draco pushed it back to its four legs.
“Oops,” he grumbled, his lips ghosting over the shell of Harry’s ear. It was all a bit much, making Harry feel crowded. He pushed Draco off with a gentle hand. Draco went easily, but Harry winched sympathetically at the sad croon that expressed Draco’s displeasure. The silver-gray wings fanned out, framing Draco’s statue.
He tried to soften the blow. “Your wings, they are beautiful.”
Draco blushed bright red. “Thank you,” he mumbled out and his wings try to stretch out even wider, showing off impressively. Absolutely gorgeous.
--
Sometimes when Harry looks at Draco he feels dizzy, enchanted. It’s a little different than that one time he’d experienced the alure at the Quidditch world cup, so he wasn’t too worried about it. There the barrier had just been enough to keep him from jumping from the box into the stadium.
When he looked at Draco he didn’t want to do anything like that. All he wanted was to cuddle with him? So in the context of communicating and trying his very best to stop pushing so many things away, he asked.
“Draco?” God, his voice shook with how nervous he was.
“Hmm?” Draco was sitting at the kitchen table on that horrid creaking chair and he was reading The Daily Prophet with a concentrated expression on his face.
“Do you-Have you used your alure before?”
“Oh, no,” Draco took a fork full of the scrambled eggs that Harry had cooked them for breakfast. “I haven’t got any alure. Veela males don’t need it.”
He continued to read, not fazed by the question at all. Harry was silent.
“Oh,” he said eventually. That had Draco look up at him.
“Why do you ask? You feel enchanted by my unnatural beauty?” And then Draco winked at Harry.
It’s not fair. It really isn’t. The dizzy feeling was back and Harry stumbled with the heavy weight of it all. “No-I, it’s just...”
Draco’s face fell and he sighed. “It’s fine Harry. Good of you to ask, I didn’t realize you didn’t know.”
Harry nods. “Yeah, okay. Good. I barely know anything about Veela.”
“Darling, ask when you want to know. I’m an open book for you.” Draco went back to reading and that was that.
Harry decided that from now on he was, indeed, going to ask.
--
“What did it mean? You giving me a feather? Is it some sort of Veela courting ritual?”
“Yes, yes it is.” There was a knowing glint in Draco’s eyes. Harry quirked a corner of his mouth.
“So it’s not weird I kept it?”
Draco hummed low, a pleasant noise. There now was a full smile on Harry’s face. He basket in the warmth that Draco seemed to radiate. He hummed back at Draco, purposefully relaxing his posture.
“Okay.”
--
Draco’s hands were big but slight. His fingers were log and thin, perfect for playing the piano. Would Draco know how to play the piano? He didn’t know.
It kept his mind occupied and it was hard to stop staring at Draco’s hands. Harry wondered, the Veela woman at the worldcup had thrown hands full of fire to the leprechauns when they got into a fight. From what he knew about male Veela, it seemed that they were to be more in balance. Instead of being aggressive, they were protective and therefore less prone to fight.
Throwing fireballs at people was rather aggressive, wasn’t it?
He was studying Draco’s hands as he wrote a letter, when Draco noticed his gaze.
“What is it?” The lithe fingers dropped the quill and clasped together.
Harry’s head shot up in surprise, he’d been completely lost in though. “What’s what?” He frowned.
Draco huffed in annoyance. “Just ask Harry. There’s clearly something bugging you.”
Harry swallowed dryly. Hopefully it wasn’t offensive to Draco to ask about the Veela’s abilities.
“At the quidditch Worldcup there were these Veela’s and they were throwing with fire. You can’t do that, can you?”
“Hmm, no.” Draco shivered visibly. “Female Veela’s are really not my cup of tea. They are the once that hunt and scare away any potential enemies. We males stay at the nests and protect the youngsters. Patience and kindness are important traits for us because the males teach the young all there is to know to life.”
There was a proud grin decorating Draco’s face and his eyes were glazed over, as if he saw the scenario display itself.
He looked utterly content by the thought of taking care of children and that made Harry’s cheeks warm up. Never had he thought of having children, the world too evil to bring them up in it. But maybe with Draco?
He shook his head, it was way too early to think about something so ridiculous.
“How do you know all this?” he asked Draco.
Draco sighed. “Instincts and research. It’s hard to explain, I simply just know.”
Nodding in understanding, Harry continued his staring at Draco’s hands. With a huff and a grin, Draco continued writing his letter.
--
He’d lost Draco. All the time that he had spend trying to avoid Draco, he hadn’t been able to shake the man. But now that he was actively spending time with him, Draco had disappeared.
After searching the whole house and not finding him, Harry had gone out into the garden. There was a bench under the apple tree and it was were he spend the rest of the morning, opting to wait until Draco’s return instead of worrying and frantically searching everywhere. Because he would return, Harry was certain of it.
A shadow cast over him and Harry looked up in fright. It was the shadow of a Veela in full glory.
With his big wings flapping furiously to keep him steady in the sky, Draco had returned. It was a magnificent sight, those gray wings in action and Draco looking so carefree. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Draco landed in a heap, feathers everywhere. “Auch, shit.” He looked up at Harry with a foolish expression. “Haven’t gotten used to landing.”
Harry was silent, he couldn’t form a single thought, let along utter a word. Draco looked like an angel. Besides the leaves in his hair of course. Harry’s hands itched pick them out and untangle the knots he could spot from where he sat.
“Hi.” Harry breathed.
Draco’s eyes twinkled, filled with joy. “Hi to you too. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. I couldn’t find you.”
“Oh.” Draco got up and plopped down on the bench besides Harry. It looked like it took some effort to fold the wings behind his back, they unfurled the second Draco was distracted.
“I woke up with the urge to fly. Sorry for not telling you I was out.”
Harry shrugged, stretching his arms with a yawn and letting his arm rest on the back of the bench. Conveniently, his arm brushed against Draco’s soft wings. They felt just as marvelous under his touch as they had before. Harry wished he could touch them more often.
“Why didn’t you go earlier?”
“I couldn’t. Today I woke up and I felt refreshed, like a heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders. My wings got ruined when, you know. The whole rejection and almost dying part.” Harry looked down, guilt drawing a frown on his face. “But,” Draco continued. “They are completely healed now! I didn’t even know I could fly, but as you can see, I can!”
In his excitement Draco flapped his wings and the apple tree branches shook. “Oops. I’m sorry, I just spend all morning getting used to them when they aren’t folded up.” Draco’s grin was so wide, it was all Harry could look at. He’d never seen the Slytherin so happy.
“I love you,” he whispered, so softly that Draco could only hear it because they were sitting so close. Draco fell silent, looking at Harry in wonder. A bright blush was dusting his cheeks.
Yeah, Harry thought, just like an angel.
POV Draco
Gradually the house was warming up. If it was because of Harry’s hard work, the summer that was approaching or them being more affectionate, Draco didn’t know. It hardly mattered anyway, but being warm meant that Draco was very pleased and happy and that he didn’t spend his evenings clustered to the fireplace, curled up by the fire.
The downside was the absence of Harry, brushing his hair and braiding it. Not that he had done that lately, after the running away and avoiding and all it hadn’t happened again. Draco missed it. It had been their little moment and Draco had felt so loved and cared for.
He sighed and plopped down on his new favorite spot, the big couch that had soft blankets and pillow scattered all over it. He wrapped himself in the largest, fluffiest blanket he could find and grabbed a book from the small side table that stood besides the couch and was perfect for supporting the large stack of books that Draco had yet to read.
Right now he was reading a fascinating novel, but he couldn’t quite concentrated. The book shook a little in his grip as his hands were not steady enough. He had the urge to rub his chest to easy the phantom pain too. Absentmindedly he noted that he had to seek out Harry tomorrow to be in the same room for a while, when he heard a scuffle behind him. In the doorway stood Harry, looking anywhere else but at Draco. He was holding two steaming cups of tea and a tin that, according to the smell, seemed to hold cookies.
“Ehh,” Harry said hesitant.
Draco had to hold back a chuckle. “Do you want to join me? There’s enough space on this wonderful couch.”
He stretched out his arms with a groan and patted the space next to his curled up legs. With an awkward nod, Harry slid into the space Draco had mentioned and put the cups and tin down. Where Draco relaxed even more, his phantom pains subsiding, Harry was as tense as a bow.
That just wouldn’t do.
“You okay?”
Harry nodded, then shook his head. “You know what, no. Not quite. I don’t know how to initiate this. It’s making me-” He was staring at this fire, and if it weren’t already burning, Draco thought the firewood would spontaneously combusts into flames. Harry went on. “It’s making me feel insecure.” His voice quivered.
Draco put down the book that he wasn’t reading anymore, giving Harry all his attention. “There is a simple question that might help. What do you want?”
Harry gripped the armrest of the couch so tight that his knuckled turned white. “I want-I don’t know what I want! You just look so… cozy. I want-” Harry forced out the word. “to feel cozy too.”
Draco hummed. “That can be arranged. Come join me?” He grabbed the blanket he had wrapped himself in and held it open for Harry. It would be a tight fit and Draco didn’t know if might be too much for Harry. But he wanted to offer anyway.
It was still a bit cold in the room with his blanket folded open like that and Draco let out a shiver. That was all it took for Harry to get under the blanket and snuggle up to Draco. Draco wrapped his arm around Harry and with it the blanket.
A deep rumble came from his chest and he pushed his nose in the crook of Harry’s neck. Wood shavings, freshly picked oranges and caramelized sugar flooded his senses and he closed his eyes.
Harry shuffled closer to him. At that moment, nothing but Harry mattered to Draco. His mate, content in his arms, in his nest.
They were both asleep in the blink of an eye.
--
Something had changed after they fell asleep together and it was driving Draco crazy. He had to restrain himself from cuddling up to Harry every time Harry looked remotely cozy.
As in, grip the table, breath Draco, just breath.
He could smell Harry’s scent in every room were he’d been. The phantom pains in his chest had gone away, but now there was a longing to hold and be held. So strong that brushing his hand against Harry’s shoulder was, at moments, the only way to get through the day.
Harry didn’t seem to mind at all, so Draco just kept doing it. A light kiss on his curly head, leaning his pointy chin on Harry’s shoulder and curling up beside him on the couch.
It made Draco feel loved when Harry hummed in replay, sometimes he even slung an arm around Draco. Those times Draco had to hold back a loud purr with great difficulty. He didn’t want to hope, but this really seemed to be the new normal for the two of them.
--
The first time Harry called him ‘love’, Draco fell from his chair.
He looked up from the floor at Harry, swooning as if Harry had given him the biggest, most beautiful present ever. Which, he did.
And it wasn’t a one time occurrence. Harry called him ‘my love’ when it was a colder day and they sat in front of the fire with Harry braiding intricate braids in Draco’s hair.
He called Draco ‘love’ when he wished him goodnight.
And Draco felt on top of the world when Harry told him ‘I love you, my love’ that evening.
He couldn’t sleep that night, kept tossing and turning. The blankets weren’t soft enough and he needed to rearrange them every few minutes. And the smell was all wrong. They smelled like Draco and only faintly like Harry.
Draco whined.
Wait, Harry had given him that one blanket! It wasn’t soft like his others, but it was Harry’s and surely it would still hold his smell, right?
He dug in up from within his nest andburied his nose in it, inhaling deeply. It was barely there, but if Draco focused there was a hint of orange and sugar. It was not enough.
There was no change that he could sleep tonight. He dozed off a couple of times, but awoke with a start, clenching Harry’s blanket. Around morning he finally went to sleep, mainly because he could heard Harry moving around in his bed, clearly on the edge of waking up. The noise was so soothing that it lulled Draco right to sleep.
--
Bringing Harry mint tea started as a way to get Harry to relax, but soon turned into a habit. Caring for Harry made him feel good and he noticed how pleased his Veela got when Harry took a sip of the hot tea and slumped down in his seat with a sigh.
It were the little things that had Harry reacting like that and Draco took notice. It wasn’t in vain, Harry seemed to bask in Draco’s adoration and tried so hard to reciprocate the affection.
That, in turn, had Draco having to hold back puffing up his feathers in pride. Every thank you, every smile, made his insides light up with love. And oh boy, Harry had a marvelous smile. He craved that smile.
Doing things for Harry, providing for him, made it easier to sleep too. It was like he carried Harry’s joy, his affection with him to his nest, where he hid it deep within all the blankets so he could pull them over his head when the room got cold and lonely.
It still wasn’t enough, but it was the best temporary fix that Draco could come up with and had to do for now.
--
Draco’s Veela instincts were on edge and he didn’t know why. Most smells were offensive to his nose and all his clothes were itchy and too tight. He constantly felt the need to collect more blankets and pillows and add them to his nest.
It was that Harry was very tidy with his clothes and didn’t leave any laying around to grab, otherwise Draco would have moved Harry’s whole wardrobe to his nest. The man smelled just too damn good.
What also concerned him was how vocal he was becoming. Well, his Veela, but these days they were almost the same. He purred, chirped and crooned as a reaction to almost anything and it was rather annoying. It had Harry look at him strangely too.
“Is that normal?” Harry asked when, yet again, Draco couldn’t hold back a chirping greeting when Harry walked into the room.
Draco was sitting on his claimed chair in the kitchen, cutting some vegetables. He was making Harry diner and was trying out a new recipe that should have Harry grinning from ear to ear while he ate. Harry loved chicken and it happened to be just what Draco was making.
“Hmm?” He hummed distracted, concentrating on the cutting, not willing to lose a finger.
“That sound you just made when I came through the door. I’ve noticed it before, what is it?”
“Oh,” Draco laughed weakly and set aside his knife and cutting board. “It’s a chirp. It sounds silly, it’s kind of like a hello, but Veela?”
Harry hummed. “Okay. Well, hello to you too.” He smiled slightly at Draco like it was a normal thing that Draco chirped.
Draco smiled back in confusion. He hadn’t realized that he was chirping that often.
“Do I-do I often make noises at you?”
“Yeah, yeah you do,” Harry’s smile was wide. “It’s cute.”
Draco pursed his lips and desperately held back the noise that he felt rumbling in his chest. That made Harry chuckle and Draco could feel himself growing red.
“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “I can’t help it.”
“I don’t care, don’t hold back for my sake.” Harry winked at him and walked out of the room, taking the warmth from the room with him.
Draco sighed in both wonder and annoyance and returned to his task. The way he felt warmer and complete in Harry’s presence and cold and lonely without, was getting ridiculous.
--
The room was so cold, Draco shivered inside of his supposedly warm nest. Pulling the blankets closer around him didn’t help and Harry’s smell on that one blanket had dissolved by now.
With a whine, Draco ripped it apart. The blanket gave way in his sharp claws without resistance.
Now there was nothing left that reminded Draco of harry and that had him whine louder and burrow himself even deeper into his nest. It was just so cold.
There was a shuffling sound nearby and Draco peeked his head up from under the mountain of blankets and pillows. He really had raided all the rooms in his search for soft materials.
He chirped curiously. What was that noise? It needed to be investigated, the cold be damned.
Gathering as many blankets as he could, Draco crept out of his den. He avoided all the creaking floorboards in his room and as he got to the door, he pulled it open with a soft sound.
He winched, it was too loud. Why that was, he didn’t know. Too loud, he whispered and stroke the door.
He slipped through the crack and then stood in the hallway. He sniffed.
The noise had stopped, but now there was a distracting sweet scent in the air.
Draco hummed. He needed to get to that scent. Maybe it wouldn’t be cold there and he could finally sleep. He sniffled again, following the heavenly scent to the door across of his door.
The door was rough under his palm when he pushed a hand against it. Trailing down his hand, he sunk to the floor. There was no way he could go in there.
He whined softly.
There wasn’t much room for coherent thoughts in his mind, majority of it was filled with wanting and needing, but he knew that opening that door and going inside was endangering a fragile balance. That something in there that he knew could provide him with the world, was not going to like having Draco there.
He scratched lightly at the door, too quiet to really make a sound. He wanted to be in there, basking in the scent, making his nest.
No. He couldn’t.
He was stuck in place, not able to go back to his cold and lonely room, not being brave enough to face whatever would happen if he did enter that room.
Camping out here it was then, as this was as close as he could get to the thing he wanted most of all and he refused to leave. He pushed the few blankets he had taken with him into a shape that vaguely resembled the shape of a nest and rolled up in it.
The floor was hard, but it was all worth it when after hearing blankets ruffle at the other side of the door, his senses flooded with the smell of sugar, oranges and wood. He fell asleep while purring contently.