What's in a memory?

Chapter Nineteen

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Harry woke, pleasantly warm and sore in a whole variety of new places. Finding his body plastered on top of Draco again. Where only a few days ago, Harry had yelped and ran away, today he snuggled closer. Enveloping himself firmly in a scent that he recognised as both undeniably Draco and indefinably home.

He hoped that Draco wouldn't mind, who was wide awake and busy reading Luna's book. 

"Good morning, Deerheart." His voice rumbled through his chest. 

Harry grunted as Draco jostled his comfortable position.

"It's not a good morning?" Draco queried with gentle humour threading his fingers through Harry's curls, gently untangling the knots he found there.

"We did get more carried away than I'd initially intended," Draco carried on thoughtfully, Harry leaned into his touch, firmly keeping his eyes shut. 

"Sore enough to need the magical restorative potion?" Draco inquired. Harry couldn't decide whether he was being teased or not. 

Harry paused. He was sore but nothing he couldn't handle. 

"I'm fine." he huffed. Only to be rewarded by Draco's musical laughter.

"Liar" Draco countered when his mirth had died down, "That's what you always say if I've been too rough, you'll be feeling last night all day, if you don't let me fix it - and you know it." He teased squeezing Harry's thigh, before the words sank in.

It was another reminder that whilst this was new to Harry, Draco had dealt with these matters before. Harry watched Draco's wince of apology. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but no words came out.

Leaving a tense silence. 

Harry bristled, he knew Draco hadn't meant to poke at Harry's memory, but it hurt... And really he was just advising Harry based on their shared experience. His insight was certainly appreciated last night, how easily he could make Harry crazy with desire and completely fall apart. 

Draco swallowed, twice. Then amended, "Well, trust me, you'll be more comfortable."

Despite the helpful tip, Harry stood resolute. "It's a good ache," Harry protested crossly rolling over onto his stomach so he could look better into his stormy grey eyes.

Draco hummed, his delicate hand resuming its downstroke, the faux pas forgotten. "There's the Harry I know and love, utter grouch in the morning before his coffee and run, arguing black is white rather than take the easy way out ..." 

Harry growled at the assessment and Draco leant over and kissed him, long and deep.

Harry eased himself up to take advantage of the warm mouth, eagerly. Draco sucked and bit his lip, until Harry shuddered above him.

"Of course," Draco panted out, "there's always one thing that works without fail to sort out your deplorable morning attitude, regardless of how much you ache." He purred.

Harry's eyes shot up to meet Draco's, seconds later he was straddling the slim blonde returning the impassioned kiss.

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"I don't know ..." Harry paused panting. 

"Shh, we've got this" Draco murmured reassuringly.

"Draco" Harry protested.

"Harry."

"I?..."

"I know you. I've got you."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Harry admitted biting his lower lip. "Am I? Should I..?"

"Shh."

"Is this okay?"

"Harry, stop thinking,  just do what feels right trust me."

"Ah -Ah-Ah."

"Fuck. Don't stop"

"Draco. Dra- oooh" 

"Fuck, yes."

"I've got you."

"I know."

"Ah, Ah, Draco I'm...I'm.."

"Let go."

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After an exhilarating wake-up and a shared shower. Harry went downstairs to cook breakfast. Draco hovered nearby. Ready to assist should Harry need it. 

Harry didn't know where anything was, so relied on summoning everything he needed.

He was happy to do something nice for Draco after he'd been so patient and brilliant the past couple of days. 

Once Draco ascertained that Harry would be no threat to himself or the breakfast, scooched in on a stool, and settled with a daily crossword.

Harry hummed along to the wireless as he made sure not to burn the eggs.

It felt nice to cook for someone. Harry had spent much of his early twenties eating takeout or cooking for one. This was far better. 

He would occasionally cook at Mione's when she'd been so busy on a caseload that she forgot she agreed to host. But usually, Harry would eat breakfast and dinner all alone. This was far preferable. 

Harry remembered the memories from the pensive as Teddy and Draco kicked him out for being a messy cook, he looked around to see that not much had changed in that regard. Surveying the mess he'd made of the kitchen sides.

The countertops were strewn with eggshells, and various stains.  The toast that he had haphazardly buttered as he prepared the rest of the meal left crumbs around too.

Draco magicked the coffee machine to make the caffeinated goodness. Harry hummed louder over the grinding of the fresh coffee beans.  

Finally, the two settled at the table. They ate in silence, happy to bask in the peace they'd found without the need to fill the silence. 

Harry took the initiative to hold Draco's freehand and squeezed in a little prayer, that every day could be like this one.

He even graciously drank the potion Draco placed before him without arguing or grimacing. Despite the fact he really didn't need it.

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Breakfast took longer than necessary, given they were both eating one-handed. But neither minded all that much. Harry waved his wand to collect all the dishes and scrub themselves clean. 

Kreacher popped into the room and looked aghast at the mess he found by the stove. He growled in annoyance, muttering something unpleasant about Master Harry under his breath. 

Draco lifted Harry's hand to his lips and placed a firm kiss there. "Thank you Deerheart."

Harry's eyes stopped tracking Kreacher, in favour to see Draco's bright smile. "I was happy to."

Something niggled in the back of Harry's mind, "That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask." Interrupting Draco's movement back towards the morning paper. "Why 'Deerheart'?"

"Oh, that. Well," Draco's cheeks pinked and Harry got a thrill at seeing embarrassment paint his husband's features. Harry was used to blushing himself, more often than he'd like, but to see Draco's pale face colour, when he usually is so composed was fascinating. "I could've chosen any sort of endearments for you... Love, Darling, Sweetheart..."

Harry nodded, still watching the rosy tint in his husband's face.

"But they all felt unoriginal, completely ordinary for my beloved."

Harry cringed.

Face crumpling in disgust. 

"Yes, beloved went down remarkably well." Draco teased.

"Please. Stop." Harry blushed a flaming colour, more impressive than Draco's had been. 

He understood the sparkle in Draco's eyes, now the tables had turned. 

Draco grinned wider, and it was infectious. 

A moment later, he continued, "Then one night, I was working late, and your Patronus arrived. A lovely stag of light, and it occurred to me. Dear. Deer." 

"You do know It's not a Doe?" 

"You insult me. I could never mistake my beloved's animal form."

Harry coughed, "Right.. So?" He prompted eager to nip this whole 'beloved' thing in the bud.

"Well, naturally it progressed, from regular Dear, to a sort of jokey, Deer." 

Harry nodded like he understood, but it seemed like an inside joke that you had to be there for.... which of course, he was. But couldn't remember. 

Harry's chest flared again at the reminder, but tried to keep this from showing on his face.

Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry as if he could tell where his mind has gone and with that Harry decided that really needed to brush up on his occlumency, if only so he could block his Slytherin partner from glaring knowingly like that. 

"Harry," he whispered. Pulling him back.

"Yes, Sorry, yes. You were saying-?" Harry desperately pleading that Draco would just continue where he was. 

"Don't you want to-?" Draco began to ask.

"So, Dear lead to Deer." Harry interrupted. Really not wanting to talk about it. 

Draco waited a moment, scanning Harry's face before nodding slowly, just once like he understood what Harry was asking. 

"Well, 'Deer' stuck for a while." Draco laughed under his breath, so Harry joined him. "But that still felt too ordinary for the one who..." Draco swallowed tightly, "who holds my -heart."

The weight of it fell onto Harry's shoulders, pinned by Draco's stare and held under the unspoken promises.

The unsaid, 'love you' on his lips. Sitting there waiting for Harry to say it. 

It should be easy; he must have said it a thousand times before. 

Seven years together, five years married. Harry must've said it countlessly. Waking up in bed, curled together as they were this morning, saying it with morning breath. Gargling it out when brushing teeth. 

Saying it in lieu of a thank you when handing each other coffee. Between goodbye kisses before work. Muttering it before drifting to sleep. Groaning it, moaning it, declaring it out in passion; in annoyance.

Promising it, even when they're wearing something hideously ghastly.

When forgiving each other, whilst loving each other. 

I love you.

It's right on his tongue fighting its way out. 

Draco surely knows it by now, watching Harry fall in love for him, all over again. Knowing the signs, reading Harry as easily as he always does. 

Surely Draco can see it, plastered to his forehead, tattooed on his chest right over his heart, stuck to his lips as it is now.

I love you.

But instead, Harry sealed his mouth shut with a kiss planted firmly but pliantly on Draco's. Leaning over to wrap his hands around Draco's neck, and up into his silky smooth hair. 

Draco made a sound of surprise, as if he hadn't anticipated Harry response.

Harry infused his love into the kiss, trying to show it even if he couldn't choke the words out right now. 

He prayed that Draco would understand what this kiss meant. 

Draco loosened under his touch and came alive under his kiss, as if rejuvenated by it, inspired by it. 

And he gave as good as he got.

I love you too

When they eventually separated the words were still tangled in Harry's tongue and Draco, himself, was rather tempted to say it as well. Caught in the moment but stopping himself because he knew Harry wasn't ready for that yet. He could see it in his eyes. Say what you want about Draco Malfoy-Potter, he knows his husband very well. 

A parting peck of the lips, before pulling away with half-lidded eyes. 

"And then, what happened?" Harry asked, as if they hadn't had a five-minute break in the middle of their conversation. 

"Well," Draco murmured with numb lips and a dazed expression. "Then? Then Deer-heart was born. The only endearment you've never complained about or threatened to hex me over," Draco smiled. 

And Harry rewarded it with one of his own. 

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