Chapter 11
Draco stopped dead in his tracks as he made eye contact with Harry Potter. There, by his river, sitting on the steps that led down to the river bank.
“Draco. Hey, come sit.” Harry’s voice was soft, like Draco was a wild animal or a crying child, but his smile was genuine and Draco could do nothing but obey, not when Harry was looking at him like that.
“You didn’t do this place justice when you described it. This is… gorgeous. I feel like I could sit here forever. I can see why you never wanted to come back to England, not if this was right outside.”
Harry spoke, voice still soft, eyes boring into Draco’s soul. Draco had no words for him.
“Harry, I-”
“If you want me to go, I’ll go” Harry said, eyes looking down at his hands, which were fiddling with the bottom button on his jacket.
That was the last thing Draco wanted. That was the last thing he could ever want.
“I-no. Don’t go, please don’t go” Draco all but begged, reaching out, his arm falling short of Harry’s hand and landing lamely on Draco’s thigh instead. Harry reached over and slid his fingers between Draco’s.
His palm was so warm. So, so warm.
“Did you mean it?” Harry said, still not looking at Draco.
“What?”
“Did you mean to kiss me?” Harry continued, sounding like he had lost all of the confidence Draco had come to associate him with.
Draco squeezed his hand. He had never done this before. He didn’t know how to talk like this; openly, with no defences. Every time he had opened up to Harry he hadn’t been sober, but now he was stone cold and in the harsh light of day sat by his river and the words just wouldn’t come.
He squeezed Harry’s hand again.
“Would you like to see my apartment?” Draco said instead. He hoped Harry saw it for what it was; an opening up, an unfurling. Draco was inviting Harry into his home that had remained untouched by anything from England and his past other than himself. Even his wand was French.
The words sounded empty but they held so much, and Draco desperately hoped Harry knew that.
“Yeah, I think I would.” Harry said, giving Draco a half-smile. It wasn’t his full grin; blinding in its intensity and beauty, but this smile was full of loveliness and it held promise. Draco gave him a half-smile back.
“Come on, then” he said, standing up and tugging Harry with him where their hands were joined. Neither of them let go the whole way back.
-
They arrived outside of the sage-green door that opened with one key. Draco unlocked it and led the way in. There was a chill in the air, so he led Harry to the sitting room-area rather than the balcony.
“I’m afraid I can only offer hot chocolate.” Draco said, rather desperately. His heart felt like it would explode, seeing beautiful, beautiful Harry sat on his little sofa that so few had sat on before.
“Hot chocolate sounds perfect.”
-
Once their mugs were washed and dried again, Draco sat curled up in his armchair opposite Harry in comfortable silence.
“I meant it” Draco suddenly announced, not sure where he got the confidence from, he just knew he couldn’t afford to not be honest with Harry, not now. Not when Harry had come all this way just to ask.
“I meant it.” he said again, louder, surer. Harry smiled and Draco felt a bit like crying, in a good way.
“Come here” Harry commanded gently, moving his legs from where they were tucked up half beneath him and half next to him. He indicated to the other side of the sofa and Draco rose, making the three steps over to the sofa feeling like he was suspended in space.
As soon as he sat down Harry reached for his hand again, interlinking their fingers and squeezing briefly. It was comforting.
“I’m glad you meant it” Harry said quietly and Draco suddenly felt a lot younger than his twenty six-odd years as his body filled with warmth at five little words. He closed his eyes and shifted into Harry’s body, and felt a strong, sturdy arm wrap around his shoulders and hold on tightly. It was grounding, and Draco shifted even closer to Harry, wanting to be surrounded by the man.
“Do you want to stay here? The night, I mean- I don’t know what your plans are and I know you have to get back home for the children and-”
“I’ll stay here, if you want me to, Draco. I would love to.”
Draco nodded and stole a few extra moments wrapped in Harry’s warmth before straightening. He was going to have to adjust his routine. Whilst the thought filled him with apprehension, he knew that he’d do it for Harry. For Harry, he’d do anything.
They went shopping in the evening, buying ingredients for a dish Harry said he wished to cook for Draco. It was a novelty, this domesticity with another person- with Harry- Draco thought he could get used to it pretty quickly. His heart hurt when he realised that Harry would have to go back- and then what? Would Draco go with him? Would he give up his life here? His job? His friends?
His hands gripped the shopping trolley handle so hard his knuckles turned white and his joints ached. All of a sudden, Harry’s hands were there, covering his, stroking his fingers gently until they started to loosen.
“Hey, hey what’s happened, hm? Why so tense?” Harry asked, but Draco felt too bad to talk. Too stressed, too fearful, too upset. He shook his head with vehemence.
“Okay, let's buy this and then go home, hmm?” Harry said, and Draco felt tears well in his eyes at the fact that Harry had called Draco’s little flat home when it never would be, not for him. Draco felt his heart rate triple in speed, and his breathing became uneven, his breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. Harry prised his hands off of the shopping trolley and took it one hand, taking Draco by the other.
Harry paid for their food in record time, saying a badly pronounced ‘merci’ before his hand was on Draco’s shoulder, steering him out of the carrefour and back down the high street, then along the few twisty suburban streets before they reached Draco’s building. Draco fumbled for the key, his breathing still out of control and his head beginning to feel light.
Harry all but dragged him upstairs, taking the keys from Draco to open the door, before pushing Draco down onto the sofa and placing the shopping bag down.
Then, he was kneeling between Draco’s legs, his hands rubbing up and down Draco’s thighs soothingly, as he instructed Draco to follow his breathing. Eventually, Draco managed to get himself under control, using his itchy sweater sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes, feeling distinctly ashamed and embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, i don't know what that was, I just, I don't know I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Draco chanted his apology like a mantra as Harry gathered him in his arms.
“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened? Hmm?” Harry asked, standing before sitting next to Draco, and pulling him into his side. Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead and Draco shuddered.
“I was just thinking about the future and you know, you’re in England and I’m in France and there’s no way you’ll leave your life there- and you shouldn’t, you've done amazing things in England and you're needed there, but I just, my life here isn’t remarkable in any way, you know? But I really, really, love it here and I’m not scared here the way I’m scared in England and I don’t want to be scared all the time but I also don’t want to be in a different country to you. Not now you’ve been here and I’ve seen you by my river and on my sofa and in my supermarket.”
Draco sniffed.
“I’m sorry, it's silly and it's not like you’ll ever want me back, so I don’t even know why I'm worried.”
The tears started running again.
“Draco, do you honestly think I’d be here if I didn’t want you? Of course I do. And I know it's easier said than done but you don’t need to worry about that right now. We can just see where this goes, yeah? It's still new, we don’t need to think about moving. We can spend our weekends together, or maybe install a floo here, yeah?”
Draco nodded miserably. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“No more apologies. Come on, let's make dinner.”