Over and Over
Draco’s mind was reeling.
He collapsed onto his bed face-first, knocking the air out of his lungs in the process. His whole body was electric with what almost happened, his face burning as the memory of Harry’s breath ghosting across his lips ingrained itself into his skin.
That was almost…
No. It was real. Yet, at the same time, it wasn't.
He had to force himself to stop thinking about it. It's not true. It's a terrible yet intoxicating amalgamation of his loneliness and their isolated cohabitation. That's all. It's not real.
The fact that it would be a terrible idea in any circumstance didn't make the fact that it was actually happening sting any less.
Draco's heart was racing. If Potter wasn't going to keep his head about this, then Draco had to be the one to do it, no matter how much his body was currently screaming at him for having stopped it.
Draco groaned, rolling over onto his back. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then repeated the process a few times until he felt slightly calmer. His brain kept imagining what it would have been like if they'd actually kissed, or what it might be like if he marched out of his room, perhaps grabbing Harry by the shirt and-
No.
Draco shifted in bed, trying to make his pants comfortable again.
What is Harry thinking right now?
He was probably kicking himself, Draco thought, since he had jerked back as if stunned, leaving Harry confused and apologetic. Draco sighed, pressing his palms to his face. The last thing he needed was something like this to happen between him and Harry, or anybody else, really. He had too much shit spinning around in his brain for something as stupid as interhuman relationships to get mixed in with it all.
And yet, a part of him had felt excited, for a moment. He was almost touched, that Harry cared so much about him- that Harry was clearly into him.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
Even if Harry was developing feelings, such as Draco was, it didn't change the severity of the situation, and the fact that Draco absolutely could not let himself fall for the tricks his mind was playing on him. Draco spent the rest of the evening in his room, trying and failing to get any decent sleep, and the next morning, while brewing tea, he faked impassivity while Harry- dressed in his scarltet auror uniform and shifting constantly in his spot and wringing at his hands- explained that he had to meet Weasley and Berrycloth at the ministry, on account of having processed evidence from the previous day's crime scene.
"I'll be back as soon as I can, er... Dawlish is going to watch you again, while I'm gone."
Draco relaxed marginally at the information that he wouldn't have to spend the next few hours avoiding Harry, since the case was doing that for him. However, that did mean that he'd be beckoned to sit with a cuppa to hear about 'the old days' when things were different in the auror department.
"Will there be anything else?"
"No," Harry answered. "No, just... Just stay safe, and call if you need me."
"Alright."
The two spent the next several minutes awaiting Auror Dawlish's arrival in tense and awkward silence, and Draco wished he didn't find himself absently staring at Potter (while realizing that he was staring right back). The moment he arrived, Potter was out the door as quickly as possible, with rushed goodbyes and tired pleasantries.
"I'm sorry for your loss," was one of the first things Auror Dawlish told Draco as he settled into a chair, his blue eyes fraught with pity and a frown making the lines on his face more pronounced.
Draco spent the rest of the time cleaning his flat. He would not be affected by his fucked up brain, and all of the consuming, drowning thoughts it would throw at him. Auror Dawlish had acknowledged him with a simple “ah, cleaning day?” and a chuckle. Draco ignored him.
His cleaning was thorough and harsh. He spent his time ensuring his flat was absolutely spotless- he swept, dusted, vacuumed, mopped, organised, washed, scrubbed, and wiped, cleaning chemicals burning at the skin of his hands, his eyes aching and head pounding from exhaustion.
Cleaning only served as a minor reprieve, though. Nothing compared to what he needed to stop the carousel of haunting thoughts that his brain was stuck in. Astoria, Harry, Blaise, the door, his arm and scars; over, and over, and over.
Draco was on his knees scrubbing the bathroom’s tile walls when he heard Harry return. He listened as they exchanged quick words and as Auror Dawlish finally left. Then, the flat went mostly silent, save for small movements Harry would make. Draco focused on scrubbing, fixating on the fizz and bubbling of the cleaning products changed the color of the grout between the tiles from nearly black to light grey.
Footsteps began to echo across the flat, the slow thud of boots vibrating across the floor and to Draco’s knees, reminding him of how sore they were becoming from all of the kneeling. They came nearer, and absently, Draco hoped Harry was not about to approach him. He sprayed more cleaner, the pungent smell burning his nostrils, making his head hurt and his eyes sting. He continued to scrub.
Draco heard as the footsteps came closer, and became clearer, until they stopped. He could feel the presence of the other man in his tiny bathroom, standing by the doorway. Draco felt a shiver run down his spine.
Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.
There was an uncomfortable silence, a tension so palpable that Draco thought it may choke him. He didn't dare turn to look at Harry. He couldn't. He didn't want to think about things. He didn't want to give his thoughts the power to drown him if he so much as slowed down.
"I'm back."
Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.
"How long have you been cleaning?"
Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.
"Er, maybe you should take a break... Dawlish said you've been at it nearly the whole time I was gone. Did you ever have lunch?"
Draco ignored him, continuing his scrubbing.
"...Are you alright?"
Draco sighed, nostrils flaring. Memories of the past day were nagging at him, now. He found himself fighting the urge to feel Harry’s breath so close to him again. He shoved the urge away, zeroing in on a spot that was not cleaning the way the rest of the tiles were, maintaining a grey textured grime, and scrubbing harder.
"Draco..."
"What?" Draco snapped. He didn't mean for his tone to be as sharp as it was, but it didn't seem as if Harry minded. Draco watched with irritation as Harry took a moment to study him.
"Are you feeling alright?"
Draco huffed. "Why do you keep asking me that?"
"Because I care about you."
There he was again, disarming Draco and tempting him to throw caution to the wind and just let things be...
Harry doesn't care, not really. He thinks he does because he has that stupid Gryffindor heart of gold and he's been stuck with Draco for at least four months, now. But Draco knows better. He knows because he understands what being stuck does to one's mind, understands how things can get mixed up and start to form false meanings.
"You don't really."
Draco felt as though the words were coming out of his mouth automatically, without him thinking to do so. But Harry wouldn't back down, and it needed to be said.
"You know I do..."
Draco turned to look at Harry in time to seeht at his expression had gone soft, and concerned. Draco had the sudden urge to wipe away the downturn of his lips and smooth the worry lines on his forehead. He swept the thoughts away, keeping his expression still.
"Is this about Blaise? How have you been after that?"
Harry's question had caught Draco thoroughly off-guard. He'd been half expecting that Harry not bring it up, the same way he hadn't brought up the majority of the murders. Draco had begun to wonder if it was against the rules to discuss the victims of an open murder case.
"Blaise?"
"Yeah... I know you were close, and... I'm sure it wasn't great, seeing him the way you had."
A loud clank sounded as the brush Draco had been using fell out of his hand. He blinked, looking down at it. When he turned back to where Harry had been standing, he was startled to see that Harry was now much closer. He was kneeling next to Draco, now, brows knitted together.
"Draco," Harry began, placing his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Draco swallowed. Harry's hand found Draco's shoulder, the touch sending bolts of electricity through him. He did not want Harry to withdraw his hand.
"Draco, I need you to talk to me, please. You can tell me anything. Anything you're feeling, anything you need... Last night was-"
"No-"
"-Let me finish... I messed up, okay? I shouldn't have... I'm sorry. Really, I am. I won't do that to you again." Harry bit his lip, Draco found himself transfixed by it. "But that doesn't change the fact that I care. I mean- really, really care. And I... I'm here, for you. You can talk to me."
Those words, coupled with the warm, striking green of Harry's eyes burst the shields Draco had been putting up around everything he'd wanted to avoid. He found himself sagging. Cleaning abandoned. Harry squeezed his shoulder affectionately.
"It's... hard," he found himself saying. Harry was listening intently, his face a mix of concern and care. Draco shut his eyes tight, face down. "I don't know how to talk about it. I don't even entirely know what to talk about..."
"It's okay," Harry replied, his voice gentle.
"I... It's a lot," Draco managed.
"We can work through it, together."
The statement was so absurd, the words so unlike anything that anyone has ever said to him, and yet they filled Draco with a warmth and hope that he had never felt before. The thought of slamming Harry against a wall and kissing him entered Draco's mind again. He felt excitement blooming in his trousers. Draco brushed the thoughts away harshly, urging himself to calm down.
"Okay," Draco found himself whispering, the word sounding more vulnerable than he'd have liked. Harry nodded, smiling.
"Do you... want to talk about things, right now?"
Draco shook his head, then. "No... I'm- not quite there yet."
Harry nodded.
"Whenever you're ready."
Harry squeezed his shoulder again, and Draco leaned into the touch, relishing it. He was sure his body was screaming for the intimacy, for the connection... He was torn as to what to do.
"Thanks," Draco said, his voice coming out hoarse.
He cleared his throat, and Harry removed his hand from his shoulder, taking the warmth with him.
"Do you... want something to eat? I've had a long day, and could use a bite," Harry began.
"Sure," Draco said, allowing a minor smirk to befall him.
"Perfect," Harry stated, a grin breaking out across his face. Draco found himself wanting to make Harry smile more.