There is everything and nothing to be lost when he's pressed up against Draco like this.
Lying on green grass that surrounds them for as far as he can see. The wind blows so softly it almost escapes his attention when it grazes across his skin slightly. Like the aftermath of a lingering touch whose presence is suddenly lost.
The sun is low and is tainted in his vision by long lines of fluttering green and brown. The redness of it is bleeding into the layers of blue skies and white clouds, leaving whispers of purple and pink glazed with golden yellow. As if the gods were pouring a rain of ichor onto what lay below.
There is a lively harmony of birds echoing across the moors, orchestrated by the dying day, as they make their way home to their little nests. Somewhere Harry can hear the trickling of water rushing over pebbles and stones. The wind now picking pace, plays tambourines with little leaves, that bob up and down at their pressure. Here and there a little cricket chirps and catches air on every third best, obliging to the Waltz of nature.
And despite the serenely overwhelming sounds of his surroundings, Harry hears the calm outlier in the rhythm. The sound of Draco's heartbeat pulsing against his temples. It's an ordinary heartbeat, one that doctors will be pleased with during a physical examination, but Harry finds in it a symphony of its own.
The symphony that dictates their life. The suffering, hatred, the war, the angst, the pain, acceptance and most importantly the musicality of love. Harry hears everything he needs to hear in this lifetime, in Draco's heartbeat.
When he says it out loud, he's blushing and Draco's still fingers start playing with the dark strands of his hair.
"You're a sappy romantic, that's why", Draco comments before a smirk spreads across his face
Harry's on his elbows now, clearly irritated with Draco's remark, "At least I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and don't hide it away in the depths of my heart", he retorts
It wasn't meant as an insult and Draco knows it, "Well, you'll be the only one to hear it that way", he says, still playing with his black locks.
"I hear the universe in you", Harry says like a proud child
"Sometimes Potter, you can be so endearing, I want to gag", Draco says with mirth before turning to face Harry. He's closing the distance with a kiss when-
Harry jabs him playfully against his ribs and gets on his feet only to run away. Draco sits up hands on his knees, "Come back this instant Potter. I've not had my way with you yet"
"Then come have your way with me", Harry teases and he regrets it instantly knowing how competitive his husband can get.
They're taking flight, one behind the other, across the vast expanse of the moors, the sun almost hidden away within the pockets of the night. They rely solely on the sound of feet crashing against mud and bending dried grass to keep track of the other.
When Draco's finally caught up to Harry, the sun has almost disappeared leaving the black sky bereft of any light. It's almost New Moon and there's only a sliver of the moon that they can witness. The crickets have gotten louder. The night breeze is sweet on Harry's skin. There is a slight scent that is carried with it, which makes him realize that it was going to rain.
"Petrichor", Draco remarks beside him, as if having read his mind, taking in the scent in one long breath.
"You know what's funny. Today, the bright yellow in the sky seemed to trickle down like blood from the heavens. They must have managed to seep into the grounds to produce that smell. This is as close to olfactory Ambrosia, humans will ever get"
Draco laughs at this, "What you call Ambrosia is just the chemicals in the soil and Bacteria, being released into the air when rain hits the soil", he says in a lecture
Harry groans and throws his head back on the ground, "what you call Ambrosia is just chemicals", Harry mocks Draco.
Draco smirks before hunching down to quickly place a peck on Harry's lips, "But if you say it is god's nectar, we'll have it your way", he quickly adds, "They say love is chemicals, but I'll hex anyone that says what I feel for you can be trivialised to the effects of few chemicals"
"And you call me the sappy romantic. Atleast I'm not a dangerous madman on the loose", Harry laughs as he kisses him back more fervently
"A madman in love is far more dangerous than a madman without. He has motive"
"What are you- trying to- prove", Harry says between kisses
"That I'll passionately kill for you"
Harry gets up at this laughing, "But I'm not asking you to"
"I'm just saying", Draco shrugs
"How did an innocent conversation about petrichor turn into the confessions of a psychopath? Honestly Draco, you're lucky I'm in love with you"
It's silly. Their banter. But Harry loves it. He loves a bit of silliness in their lives every now and then after all the serious years that had passed with meaningless war and hatred.
Most of all he loves Draco. Those once cold grey eyes now hold in them all the warmth that a fireplace could offer on a harsh rainy day. His razor sharp tongue that once spewed insults, now spoke stories of affection and love to Harry, buried under covers with tousled hair and passionate skin. Most importantly, those arms that once threatened him, now only screamed home and comfort.
And Harry would have it no other way. He was glad in a way, about all they had gone through to get to where they were today. It made him realize how special their bond truly is. How magnificent in the grand scheme of things.
Walking beside Draco now, hands intertwined, Harry thrives in the euphoria that the greenery provides. He can never get tired of their trips to the moors, he decides. The music compels him and beckons him here like magic. But he mentally apologises to nature, as he tells himself that it'll never match up to the music of the universe contained in the man beside him.