Ocean Waves
“What was it like for you? Just after the war?”
“...Hm?” Harry blinked, turning his eyes away from the ceiling of Draco’s flat to face him. They had spent the majority of the day cleaning before calling it in for the day. His flat was much cleaner than it had been- perhaps the cleanest it had been in the majority of the time he lived there. But, after hours of working, the two of them were, simply put, exhausted. At least now the flat was fit for people to inhabit.
“It’s okay if you don’t… I was just- curious.” Draco was fidgeting with his sleeves, his hands with their usual shaking.
“No, no, I was just… I hadn’t been paying attention,” Harry reassured. He turned to face Draco, being sure to keep his blanket around him. Draco's flat was, frustratingly, still without heat. Draco was sitting facing the telly, which was turned off. The room was mostly dark save for the soft glow of lamps. The yellow hue falling on Draco's face made him look impossibly soft and warm. Harry wanted to burrow up with him. He stopped himself from doing so.
"I just mean... You're a hero, and a celebrity, and a million other things, and it's... just, what was it like?"
Harry thought, for a moment.
"After the war?" Harry sighed, sinking further into the sofa, thinking. "Things were... tough."
"Oh," Draco responded. Then, after a moment, "What happened?"
Harry bit his lip, brows furrowing. "Just... Everything. It was all a bit of a disaster, wasn't it? And on top of it, I had to go out and start living like an adult. I didn't even know the first thing about it... and all during it was just... I mean, you must know?"
Draco shook his head slowly, this time, fully facing Harry. "Not really, no."
"Well," Harry sighed. "I was just... I didn't have the first idea about being an adult, and on top of it all, everybody was hailing my name in the streets, treating me like God or Jesus or someone of the sort... And I was dating Ginny. I'm sure I was expected to even marry her. And it was all just a lot. Then, I got my job in the auror department, and before I knew it, I was doing what I'd been doing all of my life... I was... not comfortable, really, but just-"
Harry didn't continue with his statement. Instead, he simply said: "Being an auror is easy in a familiar way. I like to stick with it... I never care for much else."
Draco nodded, his face soft, eyes open. Harry was vibrating with nerves. He wanted to crawl inside of his skin.
"What about you?" Harry asked, "How was everything with you?"
"I'm afraid it's not as much of a mystery as you may think. If you'll recall, you were there for a lot of it. Trials and interrogation and sentencing. Church, a girlfriend..." Draco's voice died. Harry frowned.
He supposed he was there for a decent bit of it, having spoken at his and his parents' trials, and being there when he was sentenced, then later, when he found Astoria's body. He wasn't there for it all, no, but he must have been there for the most important bits.
Except, despite knowing the bigger bits, he found himself still with dozens of questions about the blond in front of him and lacking the clarity to ask properly.
“And you and your Weasley… I imagine that’s not something anymore… why did you break up?”
“Ah,” Harry readjusted his position on the sofa, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Mostly just me being a prick.”
Harry knew he should elaborate, but he didn’t quite know how. He could say they rarely got up to it in bed anymore, or how the frequency of their dates descended from once a week to every few weeks to once, maybe, in a month. He could mention the explosive rows that came from Harry hiding within his job, or not seeing a healer (“why would I need one? I’m fine,” he would yell, despite the oppressive weight that had settled on his chest and the incessant burning in his eyes). He could talk about the apathy with which he was treating her and her aspirations, or how the thought of moving in with her made his chest hurt and his stomach unsettled for reasons he couldn’t understand. Instead, he let silence fall over the room.
Harry looked at Draco, who was sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. The glow of his lamp was coating him in honey-coloured light. His lips looked soft.
Harry licked his own, then bit his lip as he realized it, wrenching his eyes away, back towards the wall.
Harry didn't want to think about what happened. Instead, he thought of Draco, and how soft and lovely he was, and how Harry was sure, if he was brave enough to lean forward, he could press his lips to Draco's. And maybe this time, he wouldn't run away from it.
"Sometimes, I wonder how I've changed so much since the war." Draco cut through the silence. "I wonder how much of it is good. I wonder... how I feel so different, yet so similar to that haughty, self-important git from a few years ago."
"That's a natural thing, isn't it? I don't think anybody stays the same forever. That would be impossible," Harry offered.
Then Harry thought about how he feels like everything except him has changed.
"I feel like a child, still," Draco murmured, looking down. "Sometimes"
Harry's chest constricted at the words, and the tone they were spoken in. He wondered if Draco ever felt like his mind was moving faster than his body, or that everyone around him was going faster than him. He thought about himself, locking himself away in his drabby flat, doing nothing but sleep, drink, and work, keeping his friends at arm's length and loathing his sleep for reminding him of everything. He wondered if Draco could feel the changes of life like relentless ocean waves crashing against him, just like Harry did.
"Sometimes I do, too," he responded.
"I used to hate the idea of growing up," Draco said, voice low. "I just wanted to be an adult. I wanted to be free, and I wanted to be rich and respected... Now? I'm not free, I don't care for my riches, and I'm hated. By everyone."
"You're not hated," Harry tried. Draco scoffed.
"Everyone hates me, Potter. It's no secret."
"I don't," Harry pressed, turning to face Draco. "I don't hate you."
"You're the exception," Draco's voice was small. “You’re always the exception to everything.”
Harry felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to tell Draco how much he didn't hate him, and how much he enjoyed his company, and how much he wished to stay close. He didn't.
Instead, he scooted closer, readjusting his blanket to fit Draco under it. Draco did not protest. Harry wondered if he'd been cold all along and not said anything. He tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco looked up, his expression open. He was beautiful.
"I know... it's hard. To be... here. And after all that happened. It's just hard," Harry's voice was low. Draco was looking into his eyes, and his own were wide. He was looking at Harry like he was the only thing that existed, and Harry could feel his breath catching. "But I promise, you'll be alright. I'll help."
Harry's thumb rubbed circles into his shoulder.
Draco didn't say anything, and neither did Harry. Harry could feel his heart racing. Draco was so close. His eyes were a dark grey, and his mouth was parted. His hair was falling across his face, and Harry thought about brushing it away, and pulling him into a kiss.
Harry's hand slid from Draco's shoulder to the base of his neck, his thumb tracing the skin below his jaw.
"Can I..." Harry murmured. Draco was breathing. His hands were still in his lap. He leaned his head closer, and Harry could feel his breath.
"Yeah," Draco whispered.
Harry's hand slid to the back of Draco's head, pulling him close and pressing their lips together. Draco was so soft, and warm, and his lips were so smooth, and everything was so good. Draco kissed him back, and his hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder.
Harry's brain had reduced itself to a muddled rush of soft and yes and more, more, more.
And just as quickly, a rush of cold air replaced where Draco had been so close.
Harry blinked, looking at Draco, his eyes wide.
"I- er, sorry." Draco murmured. Harry's heart was hammering. "I'm- I'm-." Draco was staring at him, and Harry's face was heating up. "Sorry, I just-" Harry began, his hands feeling clammy. "I thought-"
"No, I mean- I'm not- you're- I'm not-" Draco was stuttering just as much as Harry, all flustered and bright red, eyes blown wide as he looked away.
"Not what?" Harry asked.
"I'm not... homosexual." Draco's voice was barely a whisper.
Harry blinked. "What?"
Draco shook his head. "I'm not. I'm..." Draco cleared his throat, the bright red on his cheeks climbing higher, and growing a deeper shade. Harry felt as though his cheeks might be int eh same state. He found that he could not take his eyes off of Draco, waiting intently to hear what he had to say next. Harry didn't think he could trust himself to break the silence for them, anyway.
"It's not right, you and me, it's... this is a highly abnormal situation. This isn't borne of typical circumstances-" Draco paused, his eyes falling on Harry's, impossibly wide. "I... maybe- fine. Maybe I have developed some sort of homosexual... feelings. But... no."
Harry was silent for a moment, his brain going at terribly muddled and impossible speeds. Then, he spoke.
"Why not?"
Draco made a sound like he nearly choked, his face even redder than before. He opened hs mouth, and closed it, then opened it again. Harry was drawn to the movement.
"It's... this is clearly the result of having been shut in together."
"I don't think so," began Harry.
"So you think this would have happened without all of the impossible situations around us?"
"Well, no. It was thanks to this that we got the opportunity to get to know each other. But..." Harry bit his lip, suddenly nervous. "For me, at least... this isn't just me being used to you, it's... more of me having learned about you. And I've found that I quite like what I've learned."
"You don't know bollocks-"
"Well I know some things. Like how you bloody love being a part of the church community. You love making sweets for them. You shower with the poshest soaps on the planet, and you keep busy all the time. I know that you're struggling... I know that I want to help you. I want to be with you and learn all of the things I'm missing and I want you to live a normal, happy, free life."
The air in the room was tense, the silence threatening to push at Harry from all sides. Draco was looking at him with a strange, wide-eyed look.
"I- I know this is a little odd. A little different. But we've always been that, haven't we? What's one more thing?" Harry tried. His whole body felt like it was moments from lighting on fire.
"I..." Draco paused. "I suppose... But-"
"If you really don't feel the same, then, it's okay. But I don't think you do. Not from the way you reacted just now." The air in the room began to settle, if only a bit.
"It's not right, Potter. You'll get sacked. I'll go to prison..." But Draco was a bit closer to Harry, now. Harry placed his hand on Draco's knee.
"No, I won't. We won't."
Draco sighed. "How can you be so certain?" Their faces were mere centimetres apart.
Harry gave a small smile. "We'll be okay… We don't need to be shouting this from the rooftops..."
Draco nodded slowly, his breaths now ghosting Harry's lips. Harry wasn’t sure when they’d gotten so close again. Their eyes met, and he could feel his heart threatening to burst from his ribcage.
"Okay," Draco murmured. He was looking at him. His hand reached up, tentatively touching the side of Harry's face. He found he wanted to press Draco’s cold palm further to his flaming cheek, relishing in the contrast.
"It's okay," Harry whispered, feeling his chest flutter. "I'm here. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
And Harry, finally, was the one to lean in.
Draco's lips were so soft, and his hands were on Harry's face. It was soft and chaste and tender.
When they pulled away, Harry felt like he got a proper close look at Draco's face for the first time, like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He could see the slight flush across his cheeks, and his slightly-parted, plump lips. His grey eyes were so wide.
Harry felt his lips twitching upwards.
"Is it alright if I kiss you again?" Harry murmured.
Draco was already nodding. "Yes."