Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.
Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.
I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me. I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight. Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.
He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment. When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close. Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.
I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget. I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else. But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about herfor the first time.
“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”
Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?
“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”
At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious? Harry. My best friend, Harry. Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?
I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.
So… I had been understanding. Kind even. I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.
My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….
My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.
However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?
And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.
“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.
“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”
It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.
“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”
“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”
From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.
“That’d be nice.”
Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”
We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.
“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.
I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.
“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”
I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”
“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.
The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.
I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.
“I think I should go,” I muttered.
I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.
“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”
This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.
“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.
Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”
I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.
“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.
Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”
I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.
“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.
Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.
“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”
I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”
Another sob wrecked through my chest.
“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”
Used to. So long ago, it seemed.
“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.
I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”
Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached. Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room. There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned. I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first. So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.
“Alright, class,” The teacher spoke up,
grabbing everyone’s attention. “Hence today is Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d
give you all a short, small quiz!”
The announcement was met with a collective
“It’s not that kind of quiz.” The teacher
began handing out papers, a smile on their face. “It’s about love and even
though it won’t get graded, try to answer the question seriously, don’t joke
“What did you say Kitty?” she asked, her face still pressed into his back from where they were cuddling in her bed.
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said, rolling over and giving her a cheeky smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Are… are you talking about Ladybug?” she asked softly, feeling the knot of guilt that had steadily been building over the last few months of this strange friendship they had fallen into.
He didn’t bring up her alter ego very often. The subject of romance in general always seeming to carry some sort of bizarre taboo whenever he stopped by for his increasingly frequent visits. Not that Marinette had minded. She had Alya to cry to about her lack-luster love life after all, and given how unwaveringly supportive he was about all of her other problems, it seemed silly to hold it against him that he was uncomfortable talking to a girl about crushes and the like.
His eyes flashed guiltily and he rolled back over, staring out into the darkness of the room.
“Really it’s nothing,” he said again, but he couldn’t quite mask the defeated tone that colored his words.
It was a sound she was all too used to. The same defeated cadence that had echoed from her own lips after her disastrous attempt at confessing to Adrien 5 months and 27 days earlier that no amount of Rom-coms or Alya suggested poster-burning had been able to cure.
“Chat, it isn’t nothing,” she said, sitting up and gently trying to pull him back around. He didn’t budge, still keeping his gaze obstinately fixed at something that she couldn’t see. “If it matters to you… it isn’t nothing. Not to me.”
“It’s not appropriate,” he said softly, “and it’s not fair to you.”
“Shouldn’t I get to be the judge of that?”
“It would be selfish-“
“So be selfish!” she said with a slightly forced laugh. “Trust me, you have a long way to go before you catch up to my level of selfish so I am hardly one to judge.” She teased her fingers through his hair, letting her nails scratch delicately against his scalp and felt him relax in spite of himself.
“Yeah right,” he scoffed lightly, “your strange phone kleptomania aside, you’re a pretty stand-up person.”
“Hey, I will have you know I have been working very hard to reform my phone-napping ways,” she teased, hoping to draw out a real smile from him.
“You stole Alya’s phone just last week!”
“That was a special circumstance. I told you so,” she pouted. “Besides, Adrien doesn’t deserve to be taunted like that no matter what Alya might say about it,” she added softly.
She felt Chat stiffen slightly, his cat ear twitching at her words, and she was once again suspicious that he knew all about her romantic trouble regardless of their lack of conversation on the subject. She flushed at the thought.
“You are one of the most selfless people I know,” he said, reaching up to grasp her hand in his own and give it a brief reassuring squeeze.
The guilt Marinette was feeling was almost overpowering as the thought of the secrets she was keeping from him weighed on her like a stone. He had never questioned how they had fallen into such an easy friendship, and she had become too attached to having him as a part of her life- her normal everyday life- to be willing to admit the one-sidedness of it all. Here she was getting mopey over someone she had sworn she was done chasing after in front of a guy whose heart she routinely seemed to trample into the dust. Talk about selfish.
“Please just tell me,” she whispered, her fingers resuming their seductive strokes that she knew full well would reduce him to a compliant puddle in her lap.
He was silent for a few more moments before finally letting out a small defeated sigh.
“I was just thinking about everything and I guess I just…” he hesitated. “She’ll never love me. I know that. I think on some level I always suspected as much.”
His voice wasn’t bitter or angry, and that calm resignation shattered her own heart into a million pieces more than the actual words he was saying.
“I think,” he continued, “I think I will be ok with it. She loves someone else. She doesn’t really say much about it, maybe to preserve our identities or maybe because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but every once in a while she lets something slip and it’s not that hard to put the pieces together. I always thought it was so cheesy in the movies when people would say things like I just want her to be happy, but I think I get it now. She’s incredible and I am always going to love her, but she doesn’t need me to make her happy.”
Marinette could feel the tears pooling behind her eyes as the words poured out of him in his soft, even tone. Her fingers were frozen, buried in his lush golden hair, her breaths turning shallow and frantic as the words reverberated through her like an electric current.
She stared down at the boy beside her. Her precious, irreplaceable kitten, who loved her so fiercely and believed in her so much. Who was willing to call her out for her faults and yet somehow still believed her capable of rising above them.
“She’s smart,” Chat continued, his voice seeming to echo in the near silence of the night, “and I know that whoever she does choose is going to be someone who can make her happy. Somebody good and funny and able to keep up with her when she is at her best and keep her grounded when she’s at her worst. So I think I can be ok with that.”
She tried to imagine what her future would be with some potential lover. Her heart lurched slightly at the thought of Adrien, her own love that was apparently not to be. She brushed that thought aside and instead tried to picture a world where she was curled up beside some new face, running her fingers through hair that wasn’t blonde.
She had to choke back a sob.
The slight twinge of pain she had felt at the momentary reminder that she and Adrien would never be more than friends was nothing to the soul rendering terror she felt at the sudden realization that finding a new love would inevitably mean losing Chat.
They would still be friends. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be like this. He would never impose like that. Not her Chat. Her partner who was good, and funny, and who had seen her at her best and her worst, who knew her better than anyone, and who still had never made her feel anything less than precious. Her dearest friend who just the momentary thought of a life without him made her feel like she was dying.
Chat let out a small self-deprecating laugh and Marinette wondered how she had ever been so blind.
“So yeah,” he said finally twisting back around to look up at her, “I think I’ll be ok. Even if she doesn’t love me.”
She gazed down at him, his brilliant green eyes glowing in the near darkness of the night, a tired smile on his face that she longed to see transformed into his usual infectious grin, as the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning.
“I do,” she said breathlessly, before leaning down to capture his lips in a long overdue kiss.
It’s not that I even love you anymore. I don’t feel the buzz in my fingers when I talk to you. There’s no humming in the veins that send the blood to my heart. Not anymore. I know that melancholy vibrates through my brain each time I think of the way I used to call you the love of my fucking life and nostalgia burns in my throat each time I think of the way you said I was your future, but I don’t love you anymore. You shattered every part of my heart and I- I gave you everything I could and it wasn’t enough. You don’t get to try to bandage the destruction you caused. You don’t get to compare yourself to every person I meet in the back of my head like a whispered promise that I’ll never find anyone like you. You don’t get to live in the fraction of a second when I kiss someone else and be the only thing I can think of. I hate that I wonder what you’re doing in that moment and I hate that all I want to know is if your heart burns like mine does. What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not fucking in love with you anymore, but. But. God, do I remember when I was.
“We can finally be together, now.” His happy tone was soft, lowered even, inching closer to you while resting his hand on your thigh.
Love or lust, a mystery to all; and a broken meaning to one.
Note: Inspo from my best friend’s experience! *cries* I’m a horrible person lmao | Words ➳ 8.8k
Genre & Warnings:Angst &a sprinkle of fluff. Smut.
Like an ocean’s wave rolling onto the sand as they both intermingled before the water came crashing back to it’s home, is something that heavily contradicted within your life.
Broken words, fruitless promises and a devotional mirage painted with deception behind a thin foggy layer was something you didn’t even bother to acknowledge; only believing in the words he muttered to you while he kept you in his arms, only thinking positively and never even giving a second thought on how cruel the world could actually be when it had your feelings on the palm of it’s hand.
And here you were, dropping your bag on the floor of your apartment while releasing a sigh of relief, only ever wanting to sink into the confines of your bed with your lovely boyfriend by your side. It was past midnight, and you could only yawn as you walked down the hallway of your home, soon hearing persistent soft tapping against the walls from inside your bedroom. Frowning, you began to walk faster down the hallway, wondering why your roommate had the audacity to bring someone into your room to fuck on your bed..or whatever they were doing.
Once you reached the bedroom door, you had imagined ripping the door knob off and blasting it open, only for your hand to hover over it. Your heart sank, the voices muffled behind the other side of the door surely not sounding like your roommate at all; and you could only imagine what could be on the other side. But it was impossible, right? It had to be someone else, you wanted it to be someone else but the worry began to overwhelm you and before you knew it, the anticipation crawling throughout your skin turned the doorknob before you softly pushed the door open.
Peeking inside, you could only see the alabaster glow from the moon seep through the sheer curtains, illuminating the shimmery bodies intermingling with one another. Legs spread open before him, his head stretched all the way back while laying against the headboard with shut eyes as his mouth was opened, breathy moans swimming past his lips. He held onto her waist tightly as she bounced on his lap, her breasts ricocheting within the air as one of his hands quickly reached for one before he would smother it in his hands as if it were silly putty.
She was vocal, that was a fact that was implicated into the air and your bed was moving slightly from the conspicuous licentious commotion happening upon it’s fluffy tousled blankets and tangled sheets. Breath caught in your throat, you felt tears beginning to overcloud your vision but you willed them away; quickly reaching for the light switch before you were all blinded by the luminous glare.
i’m used to this late night chaos inside my mind, thoughts getting air whipped into trap doors and i can’t escape them or leave them incomplete. only part of my day seems real to me there was a moment i seemed to connect with somebody or feel the sensation of being a part of it all, then the thoughts crept up again, and i was there but somewhere else, it’s like i’m always somewhere else. if i could just decode this puzzle inside i would, i would let them inside because sometimes theres icicles around my heart i feel will shatter if there’s not a heartbeat on them soon
Draco can feel the tension in his body twisting and turning, slowly ebbing away as he and Harry leave Robards’ office in a hurry. He’d been dying to get out of that meeting from the moment it had begun this morning.
It had been a mandatory review of all of their cases from the last six months. Apparently the head of the department had decided that no one was exempt from the intense scrutiny they’d just faced over the last two hours. Hell he had expected it to be brutal based on the chatter around the Auror office from those who had already faced their own review, but even he couldn’t have anticipated the kinds of questions they would ask.
“And do you feel your relationship with Mr. Potter is completely professional?”
“Mr. Malfoy, have your feelings for Mr. Potter ever gotten in the way of your ability to make an unbiased call in the field?”
“Mr. Potter, there is a history of rash decisions in your case file. Do you believe yourself of sound mind and judgement in the heat of the moment?”
“Gentleman, have you ever had more than a professional working relationship with your Auror partner?”
They’d claimed the questions were standard, and would be the same for all partners regardless of gender or sexual orientation. A necessary precaution they’d called it. But Draco had felt his insides churning at the questions, his mind over run with thoughts and desires which he usually worked very hard to keep below the surface. He had answered them with a cool and calm countenance that had betrayed nothing of his true feelings.
Harry on the other hand had begun to get agitated the second they’d questioned his personal life.
“I’m a damn good Auror and what I do off the clock is none of your business.”
They were partners. Friends. And yet Harry had bristled at the insinuation they were more, refusing to answer the questions which Draco was sure only made things about a hundred times worse.
By the time they finally reach their office Harry is in a right mood, ripping his Auror robes off and flinging them on the chair in the corner. He takes his glasses off next, setting them on the desk and rubbing his face with both hands. He looks tired, stressed. It’s not the first time Draco has wondered why Harry is still an Auror. He’s good at it, damn good in fact, His reflexes are excellent and his experience with Dark Wizards invaluable. But even after three years working together Draco can see that he still has trouble taking orders; he’s brash and though his instinct are usually right he follows them blindly. Mostly though, despite how good he is at his job he just doesn’t seem happy.
Draco watches with curiosity as Harry just drops to the floor, as if he truly cannot take another moment of anything, running his hands through his hair before laying down. He feels guilty for the thoughts that run through his mind, the way he can’t take his eyes off the strength in Harry’s forearms, or the space between his legs. H knows he shouldn’t be thinking those things when Harry is clearly struggling. But the questions had been too much, had brought too much to the forefront of his min, and though he might not be showing it outwardly Draco feels just as close to exploding as Harry looks.
“Do you regret it?” Harry asks quite suddenly, startling Draco out of his thoughts.
“Becoming an Auror?”
Of all the things Draco thought the other man might say that is not one of them. He thinks back on the brutal years in training, of the distrust and harassment he had faced when he first joined and the hard work and determination it had taken to get anyone to take him seriously. He thinks back to when they had first become partners and the way they had argued and clashed just as intensely as they had in school, until one day after a bad case when they’d both ended up at the same bar and gotten pissed after work together. The next day he couldn’t remember what either one of them had said or done, and truth be told he still has no idea if Harry ever remembered because they never discussed it, but things had changed after that. They had begun working as a team, and before Draco had known what was happening they weren’t just two people being forced to work together they were partners; a well functioning team that both trusted and relied on one another.
He looks at Harry now, sprawled out on the floor looking tense and unhappy, something Draco now knows he hides from almost everyone else and he wonders what it means that Harry trusts him with the ugliest sides of himself so implicitly.
Draco doesn’t usually stop to think about his own feelings, not after having worked so hard to push them away. He regrets many things in his life, but becoming an Auror is not one of them, not when it has led him this. Whatever this might be.
“No, I don’t.”
Harry’s shoulders tighten and Draco wonders when exactly he learned to read the other man so well. He looks angry, at himself Draco thinks, and guilty.
“You know its ok to hate your job.”
Harry jerks his head up in surprise, his brow crinkling in confusion. “But you just said-”
“I know perfectly well what I said. I answered your question honestly. You just didn’t ask the right question.” Draco crosses his legs, leaning back in his chair and watching Harry throw his hands in the air before dropping his head back to the ground with an audible thud.
“Well what the bloody fuck was the right question?”
Draco can’t help it, he laughs. Harry shoots him an angry look.
“I’m so glad you find this so funny.”
“Always so fucking melodramatic, Potter.” Draco knows exactly what to say to get a rise out of him and Harry is on his feet in seconds.
“That meeting was a load of shit. We’re the best Aurors in the department and they know it.”
“Are you angry because they questioned your work ethic or because they questioned our relationship?” Draco says, and is surprised at how good it feels to say something. To acknowledge them in some way, even if they have no idea what they are.
Harry opens his mouth to speak and then stops as if he’s thought better of it. He suddenly looks so unsure, and so much younger than his twenty seven years. He rubs his hands on his shirt almost unconsciously and just stares at Draco.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Draco asks, rising from his seat and closing the small distance between them. He can practically feel the tension in Harry’s body, the air nearly crackling with it. “I think you’re tired of all of it; of the protocol and the bureaucracy and the phoniness. You’ve spent your entire fucking life saving everyone else and being who they needed to be and I think you’ve finally had enough. Today. Right now, Harry. You’ve had enough.”
Harry sucks in a deep breath, and Draco has no idea what to expect because he knows he’s crossing that forbidden line that says neither one of them will acknowledge real feelings but he doesn’t care because he can’t stand another day of pretending either.
“Aren’t you tired of being what everyone else needs you to be? Don’t you want to get what you need for once?”
Harry licks his lips, still unable to move from his spot as if his feet have been spelled to the floor. “And what exactly is it you think I need?”
Fuck it Draco thinks, he’s come this far already. Instead of saying anything he reaches out, his hands sliding into Harry’s hair and gently urging him closer. He presses his lips to Harry’s, afraid for a moment he’s made a mistake and gone too far but then Harry is nearly clawing at him, his hands grabbing onto Draco so tightly it almost hurts.
The kiss is almost brutal, desperate, and so fucking good Draco stops trying to hold it in and just moans into Harry’s mouth which only spurs the other man on even more. Draco’s hand is sliding down Harry’s back when there is a knock on the door and they spring apart just seconds before the door flies open. It’s Robards. Draco has never wanted to curse someone as badly as he does right in this moment. His heart aches and he just knows the moment has been ruined, that this interruption has shattered whatever fragile thing they were beginning.
“Listen, Potter, Malfoy, about before I-”
“I quit!” Harry shouts and Draco’s mouth falls open in the most un-Malfoy like display of shock he’s ever shown.
“Excuse me, Potter, you can’t quit!”
Draco doesn’t even look at Robards, because he can’t take his eyes off Harry. Harry looks giddy, euphoric even, and it reminds Draco of the way Potter used to look after he’d caught the Golden Snitch.
“Yes, Sir, I can. I quit. I hate my job,” he shouts, and then he begins to laugh. Robards looks like he thinks Harry might have lost his mind. “God that felt good to say out loud. I FUCKING HATE MY JOB!” he screams even louder, making several of the other Aurors peek their heads down the hallway and through the open door to their office.
Robards holds his hand up to silence him but Harry is paying him no mind.
“I hate the paperwork and the assignments and the bloody protocol that makes no sense sometimes and I hate the awful hours. Fuck I hate everything about it except that I get to work with you,” Harry says, turning to look at Draco with a look so pure in intensity Draco is glad he’s sitting down already.
“And what about you, Malfoy?” Robards asks, sounding equal parts confused and helpless.
“Oh I quit too. I detest this job.”
“I thought you said you didn’t regret becoming an Auror?” Harry asks suddenly, as if he’s forgotten Robards is just standing there watching them.
Draco shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “I don’t regret it, not at all. But I still fucking hate this job.”
“Then why don’t you regret it?” he asks, and Draco wonders how it’s possible that other man really doesn’t see it.
“Because you oblivious idiot, I’m in love with you. Pretty sure if you jumped out this window right now I’d follow you like a lovesick puppy. It’s absolutely pathetic,” he answers in the most self deprecating tone possible.
“Well, that’s rather good then isn’t it. Because I’m in love with you.”
“Right, well I’ll just be leaving now,” Robards mumbles awkwardly before shutting the door behind him. Neither Harry nor Draco pay him any attention.
“So, before….when you said you knew what I needed,” Harry begins to say, crossing the room until he’s standing directly in front of Draco with his hand outstretched. “What if you showed me instead.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,“ Draco answers, taking Harry’s hand in his own and thinking that maybe what they both want and need might just be the same things.
I remember the way she cried. The way she cried after I made her promise she wouldn’t do anything stupid. I asked her why she was crying and her answer is what shattered my heart into tiny little pieces, “Because no one ever really cared about me like you do.”
She was the greatest thing to ever walk into my life.
It was that exact moment that I promised myself to never let her go. To protect her from this cruel world because she doesn’t deserve the shit that life throws at us.
I was left speechless, i pulled her in and i hugged her tears away. I loved her with every inch of my being and maybe she didn’t love me in the way I wished she did but I didn’t care because she needed me and that was enough.
I hugged her as I said bye. I walked away knowing that she would be okay because she knew someone was there for her. That’s all she needed. I turned around to catch her staring at me with those loving eyes and a soft smile.
That was all I needed.
For the bittersamgirlclub Top 5 Challenge: Top 5 Most Heartbreaking Sam Moments. Well, thanks to the BSGC for this cruel and unusual prompt. If you’re interested in my thoughts on these five horrible moments then by all means, read on…
this is gonna sound cliche but like,,,, listening to welcome to the black parade is never not an emotional journey,,,, like every single time I hear that first g note it punches me straight in the chest and I go through the seven stages of grief in a single heart shattering moment,,, and then I pick up the pieces and ready myself to listen to the rest of the song,,,, every single time,,,, it’s never not the most important thing I’ve ever listened to and it never stops absolutely killing me and saving me at the same time,,, no matter how many times I listen to it the gravitas never wears off,,, I never stop ascending to a higher plane of being, never stop wanting to join the goddamn black parade
Do you have any hcs for when Richie and Eddies daughter gets her heart broken for the first time please? Thank you😊
- she’d be gushing to her dads for WEEKS about this boy that asked her on a date
- eddie would be the supportive dad who was super hyped and helping her get ready for the date and helping her with outfit choices and what to say to the guy
- richie would be the overprotective dad leaning against the door grumbling to himself about this ‘punk ass kid’ taking his little girl out
- “richie, you took me out on our first date when we were younger than her”
- “and i remember exactly what i was thinking about throughout that entire date, i was a punk ass kid too eddie!”
- the guy would arrive a little late and richie would already be pissed off with him
- “good evening mr tozier”
- “good evening mr tozier? what the FUCK kind of language is that?!?”
- “richard, please!”
- their daughter would be dating this guy for a few months before one day she comes home crying her eyes out after her boyfriend cheats and just runs straight into richie’s arms
- “you were right about him dad”
- eddie’s heart completely shattered the moment he came home and saw his daughter sobbing her heart out on the couch with richie rubbing her back and trying to calm her down
- “eddie, get my shotgun”
- “we don’t own a shotgun”
- “well get my wallet so i can buy a fucking shotgun!”
- eddie would have to try and calm richie down in the other room as their daughter went upstairs, telling him not to go to the kids house, but richie was fuming because his little girl was heart broken and he couldn’t do anything about it
- richie would cry because he was so frustrated and eddie would have to hold him so tight before he stopped
- “she’s too good for him, she’s too good for anybody, eds!”
- the two go upstairs and offer to take their girl out for the day and they can go to the movies and eat loads of junk food or they can go play laser tag, whatever she wanted, they just want her to smile again
- “not all boys are bad, sweetheart, you just need to find the right one” eddie was an angel