I always imagine Draco gardening, (idk because he gardened with his mom when he was little maybe?) anyway, now I've imagined Harry coming to see Draco, spotting him with dirt on his cheek and knees scuffed from the ground. I can't decide how Harry would react though. Would he think it's cute? Out of character? Weird?
As Harry walks down the stone steps into Draco’s garden, he can’t help but feel as if he is trespassing upon a scene he isn’t meant to see.
He’d known he wasn’t due at Draco’s til half past noon but he’d been bored and restless at his flat alone, and if truth be told he’d missed Draco something terrible after a week away on assignment. So on a whim he’d tried to use the floo a few hours early and had been pleasantly surprised to find Draco had left the connection open for him.
Except when he’d stepped out into the lounge he’d not seen Draco anywhere. He’d called out for him, and poked around his house, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Harry had almost started to worry that something might be wrong until he’d noticed the kitchen door ajar which had led him out into the dewy, sunlit garden.
It was unusually warm for this time of year and Harry had only expected to find Draco enjoying the sunshine. He mostly definitely hadn’t expected to find Draco on his knees amongst a bed of flowers; his sleeves rolled up and grass stains on his knees. But what Harry found most startling was the sight of Draco bent over on his hands and knees, a line of sweat dripping down his neck and his long, elegant fingers digging into the dark, rich soil.
Harry wasn’t sure why he found it so shocking, he’d known Draco liked to take care of his own flowers. He’d told him as much on their third date, mentioning how he used to tend to the flowers in the garden with his mother as a child. He’d said it casually enough at the time as if it was nothing, but Harry had known then it was Draco’s way of revealing something very intimate about himself to Harry. The significance of that small comment had not been lost on him.
However there was a big difference between knowing Draco liked to garden and seeing him work the earth with his bare hands. Harry wasn’t sure what it was exactly, all he knew was that the sight before him made his clothes feel too small and his heart feel too big.
And so when Draco abruptly stands a moment later, embarrassed and rubbing his hands on his pants Harry nearly sprints across the garden, pressing Draco back against the stone wall and tangling his fingers into Draco’s and holding on as if trying to anchor himself. There is something different about this kiss, something raw and desperate and Harry dimly wonders if Draco feels as exposed as he does.
“If I’d have known you liked to see me dirty I might’ve invited you over to watch me garden a long time ago,” Draco teases when they finally stop kissing, his eyes locked on Harry with a gentle fondness that makes his chest ache.
“I love you,” Harry whispers quite suddenly.
Draco doesn’t say anything at first, just blinks a few times and Harry’s stomach drops immediately, wondering if he’s misread the moment. But then its Draco’s turn to nearly slam Harry back against the wall, kissing him as if his life depends upon it.
Draco doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say the words back, but his hands tremble as he hold’s onto Harry, pressing messy kisses to his neck and face and just about anywhere he can reach.
And Harry smiles, because Draco hasn’t said the words out loud, but its in his eyes and his touch and his smile, and he knows that Draco is saying it back in his own way. So Harry closes his eyes, letting Draco’s touches wash over him as he inhales the smell of grass and dirt, memorizing every moment and relishing in the overwhelming sensation of being loved.