#Ao3 bookmark fic rec no188

[dewitty1]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Dudley Dursley, Petunia Evans Dursley Additional Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Auror Harry Potter, References to Depression, Mention Of Possible Suicide Of A Minor Character, Community: hd_erised, Pining Summary:

Draco has finally found the perfect, rare piece to complete his collection. The only problem is that the item belongs to Harry Potter, the last wizard on earth Draco wants to ask another favour from.

Excerpt:

Harry reaches out and presses his fingers into Draco’s cheek. The air Draco pulls into his lungs is cold, and he holds it, slow and deep, feels the ache under his ribs. Worth it, he thinks. This moment with Potter, this possibility, it’s worth the chance of pain.

“Draco,” Harry says. “You help me remember.”

“Remember what?”

“That I’m more than the Harry Potter that gets talked about in the papers, or whispered about in the Ministry. I— I hope I help you remember, too.”

There’s a catch in Draco’s throat, but he swallows around it and whispers, again, “Remember what?”

“That so are you. If I’m more than my best deed, you’re certainly more than your worst.”

Potter traces the line of his jaw, and Draco watches his eyes. Their warmth, the way they know Draco. The worst of him, and now maybe the best.

Potter leans in, his other hand coming up too and he’s got Draco’s whole face caught up in his gravity. Draco closes his eyes when Potter’s mouth lands on his; the shocking heat waiting for him there, the taste he’s only imagined, and poorly. Nothing tastes as good as Harry. Nothing feels as good as Harry’s fingers tightening, spreading out into the hair behind Draco’s ears, holding him close as though there is any chance Draco might pull away.

His own arm finds its way around Harry’s waist, a fist against his back. Draco can feel Harry’s muscles bunching up underneath his jacket as he presses in closer.

“Draco,” Harry whispers, and Draco turns his face just a fraction, so Harry’s breath can spill into his ear, so Harry’s voice can shiver up his spine and lodge in his chest. His lips drag along Harry’s cheek, up into the wisps of hair at his temple.

“Draco,” Harry breathes again. “Do you want to come home with me?”

Draco opens his eyes. He can’t see the station from here, but it must be close. They might get on the train and travel back the way they came. Maybe the car would be crowded and Draco could press up against Harry as they held the bar above their heads.

Or maybe they’d just Apparate to Grimmauld Place, Harry’s fingers laced with his, his nose against the delicious skin where Harry’s neck met his shoulder. 

And then there’d be just the two of them, and no one else. Just Harry and Draco and this new thing he was allowed, despite everything.

“Yes,” Draco says, and he’s never been more sure of any answer he’s given. “Yes.”