if-he-writes-them-anyway

When Harry’s Away

I don’t really know why this happened in my head, but it did and I couldn’t be alone with it, so here. 


When Harry comes home and hovers in the doorway to the kitchen, wringing his hands anxiously, Draco knows something’s wrong and hurries over to him, demanding to know what happened.

When Harry tells him in a hoarse voice that he’s being called away on an Auror mission, Draco nods nervously, asking if it’ll be like the last week-long assignment.

When Harry shakes his head, Draco’s heart stutters. When he tells Draco he doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone, that it could be months, that they’ll have no contact, Draco tries to be strong for him, seeing the sadness in Harry’s eyes.

When Harry tells him he leaves in the morning, Draco breaks. He kisses him desperately, determined to make tonight count. They fall into bed and Draco sets about worshiping Harry’s body, memorizing every inch of him (as if he hadn’t done so years ago) and savoring every shiver and moan and arch, filing them all into a neat little box in his mind that he’ll go over and over while Harry’s gone. After Harry comes the first time, whimpering Draco’s name, he pushes Draco over to make love to him face-to-face, his expression so agonizingly adoring that Draco has tears streaming down his face when he peaks. Harry continues to rock into him, milking Draco for every last ounce of pleasure, licking away Draco’s tear tracts and whispering how much he loves him.

When Harry leaves in the morning, they don’t say goodbye. They treat it like a normal work morning, except it’s not, is it? They hold each other a bit more tenderly, their voices waver when they say I love you, and there’s a gentle, searing kiss before Harry’s gone and Draco’s left whispering Be safe to an empty room.

When Draco isn’t distracting himself with work, he’s home, unable to leave their empty house despite friends owling him to come stay with them or at least come out with them for a night. But he can’t bear to let Pansy or Blaise see him like this, see their knowing, concerned glances. And he can’t bear Harry’s friends even though they’ve gotten close, because without Harry it would feel like he didn’t belong anymore.

When Draco drinks tea, he drinks Harry’s favorite even though he’s always told Harry that Earl Grey is too common. Draco remembers how Harry told him that his aunt had discovered she was allergic to bergamot and had thrown all their Earl Grey away, and how he’d hidden it all in his cupboard and made himself cups in the middle of the night (lukewarm, of course, because he couldn’t risk the kettle whistle waking his uncle up). Draco remembers how Harry had said Earl Grey had always felt like his tea after that, because it was a fun secret he’d allowed himself.

When Draco is home, he wraps himself in Harry’s jumpers that have always been a bit oversized on him, that he’s always pretended he didn’t like even though Harry knows better. He never wears anything else when he’s not at work, just the jumpers and occasionally a pair of Harry’s joggers when there’s a chill. As the weeks go by, Harry’s jumpers start to smell less like him and more like Draco, and that terrifies Draco, who’s worried he’ll forget what Harry smells like.

When Draco tries to sleep, he curls up on Harry’s side of the bed- somehow still warmer even without him there. He rarely sleeps, but when he does, it’s only because he’s exhausted himself with sleep deprivation. Not that his sleep is resting, because it’s either filled with nightmares of something happening to Harry, or happy memories that only make him miss Harry more.

When Draco is itching to do something, he writes Harry letters. He can’t send them, of course, but he writes them anyways, filling them with love and anecdotes as if Harry would be reading them. Half the time he burns them later while drunk, but sometimes he opens them carefully and traces the parchment, imagining how Harry would respond to them.

When the months wear on, Draco starts to worry himself sick with fears that he hasn’t felt in a long time. What if, without Draco, Harry has remembered what a shit Draco is? How Harry can do so much better and Draco still believes this in his core, even after seven years of being together. Harry deserves so much more, someone everyone approves of, who doesn’t have such a dark past. Draco knows these things, but Harry’s always dismissed them. What if now, though, Harry’s realizing these to be true? What if he comes home and tells Draco he’s not in love with him anymore?

When one day Draco comes home from a quick trip to a local Muggle market to pick up some food while wearing Harry’s clothes, he finds Harry standing in their living room, exhausted and unshaven and wrought with anxiety. Draco drops his bag with a strangled noise and wraps himself around Harry laughing breathlessly through choked sobs and peppering Harry’s weary face with kisses.

When Harry smiles warmly at him with watery eyes and rasps that he can’t stand ever doing this again- that he quit the Auror department the moment he returned to the Ministry- Draco tells him brokenly it’s about bloody time.

I can’t stop thinking about how damn proud Loki would be of his wordplay around Sigyn. Like he abhors the idea of love letters, but he writes them anyway just to show off. Loki leaves Sigyn little notes, a sonnet here and there, all always in his best exquisite handwriting,(and he’s downright smug when he learns that Sigyn’s kept all of them because “Of course, they’re all brilliant, I wrote them.”)

But then over the seasons, the decades, the centuries the words he wrote come back to haunt him, because, for a liesmith, they were a little too true