Things Felt But Unsaid
This is my little gift for @stoptryingtomakethingshappen for the Secret Santa event, hosted by @drarryexchange . It’s the first time I’ve written for the Drarry fandom and the first time I have written anything as fluffy as this, but I hope you’ll like it!
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
This warmth, those arms around his body, that messy dark hair tickling his neck.
Why, Potter? thought Draco as he watched with foggy, still tired eyes, the peaceful form laid in his bed.
Certain rays of sun were decorating their faces through the curtains, leaving small dots of light across pillow-patterned cheeks and closed eyelids.
The whole thing felt like some sort of dream to Draco. Too surreal, too good to be true after so many years of anger and self-destruction.
He turned his head a little to have a better look of the man still asleep behind him. Barely resisted the urge to extend his hand, to touch with pale fingers the warm skin pressed so beautifully against his.
Years before, every time the image of the familiar boy - now man - entered his field of vision, all he used to feel was rage and disappointment. And hatred, so much hatred… Sometimes he couldn’t even think because of it.
Things changed to such an extent that the past now seemed like an alternative existence, not part of the same life, full of anguish.
After all of that…How could you chose me?’
Harry’s breathing was caressing Draco’s neck while his chest moved with every puff that escaped past his parted lips. He’s always been a late sleeper and secretly, of course, Draco liked this. It gave him time to think, to appreciate better just how lucky he ended up.
After his sixth year, the only ending he visioned for himself was the cold, empty space of an Askaban cell. Or being Voldemort’s lap dog for the rest of eternity.
Not this. Not this closeness. Not so much forgiveness.
And especially not so much love.
Despite his earlier - better - judgement, Draco’s hand found itself buried in dark hair, too tangled for its own good and not soft enough. However, Draco felt a strange sort of affection every time his fingers moved across Harry’s unkempt locks, and the last thing he wanted was to stop.
“Malfoy” a morning voice echoed suddenly.
Draco stopped his movement, focusing his attention instead on green eyes, now open, gazing back at him.
“Morning, princess,” he said, his tone full of fondness. “Slept well?”
Harry blinked twice, trying process everything at once.
“Draco” he called out once again, a bit confused still. “Why are you up so early?”
“Not everybody can sleep until noon with no remorse like you, Potter,” he said, no bite in his words. “Most people have responsibilities, you know? We don’t have the luxury of taking a nap whenever we want just because we defeated a wizard years ago.”
As usual, when confronted this way, Harry rolled his eyes.
“If I’m not wrong, Malfoy, you - as in, the responsible one out of the two of us, according to your words - are also still on bed. So, instead of throwing around baseless accusations, why don’t you keep messing with my hair since you like it and start telling me about what you seemed to be so conflicted about.”
Draco would’ve done anything to wipe the smirk out of his face. He should’ve known better than to bring up any sort of competition whenever it involved Harry. That bastard always had some sort of witty answer up his sleeve, no matter the time of the day of night.
“You know what, Potter?” he said. “I think I liked you better asleep. Why don’t you go back to it?”
Harry eyes sparkled at that. Draco didn’t apreciate that look.
“Neah,” said Harry in mocking laziness, perfectly aware of how much Draco hated when he did that. “I think getting on your nerves for a bit longer will be more entertaining.”
“Oh, shut it already,” said Draco, rolling over, having his back facing Harry once again.
Harry only laughed at how silly Draco was behaving.
“I see someone woke up quite cranky today,” he said.
“I’m not ‘cranky’. I’m just tired of you,” remarked Draco.
“Please, you’ll never get tired of me,” laughed Harry, poking Draco in the ribs to play around some more.
“Yes, I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to make me some breakfast. I can’t stand being hungry,” he said, rolling out of bed.
Harry raised his hand, gently touching Draco’s arm.
“You mean making us breakfast, right? he grinned, trying to make his voice sound sweet.
“As if you still deserve something after the trick you pulled last night. I won’t be able to sit for a whole week thanks to your lack of patience.” he mumbled hoping to come out as angry, but failing miserably. He couldn’t fool Harry so easily.
Of course, he still freed his arm and moved towards the door, his stepping as lazy as possible.
“Like you didn’t enjoy it,” Harry said, a bit frustrated by Draco’s pride and stubbornness.
The blond ignored him and left the room, leaving Harry behind without a care.
“Cranky indeed,” said Harry to himself, throwing the covers away from his body, with a trace of regret of abandoning the warmth of the bed. He searched in a hurry for a pair of trousers and a clean shirt before following Draco in the kitchen, a discreet smell already filling his senses.
Once entering the room, his eyes fell immediately on the shirtless form standing in front of the fridge, wand in hand, a frown painted on his features. It seemed like he was in the middle of warming up a piece of bread - “Again?” Harry noted, not knowing how to react anymore to Draco’s wierd antics. But no matter how hard he tried, Draco simply refused to touch anything that had to do with technology.
“I might hurt myself, Potter!” he shouted once, after a whole hour of washing the clothes - the muggle way. It had been a disaster, without any exaggerations. After ruining two perfect sweaters and a pair of boxers Harry gave up, leaving Draco to do things as he pleased.
Even if it wasn’t extremely practical.
“How much longer or you going to incendio that poor bread?” Harry asked, getting closer to the blond and observing his every move.
“Don’t disturb my concentration. I don’t want to burn it too much and deal with ashes.”
“Draco… That’s why we have the toaster,” sighed Harry.
“I’m not going to touch that machine. Ever. End of story,” said Draco, finally lowering his wand, deciding that it was enough. “Besides, it’s a good exercise of control.”
Harry decided not to comment. Instead, he positioned himself behind Draco and embraced him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.
“You are out of hope, you know?” said Harry, leaving a small kiss on Draco’s naked skin.
“And you are sweaty and in desperate need of a shower. You stink. But do you see me complaining?” said Draco as he placed the now slightly burned slice of bread on a plate, not impressed by Harry’s antics.
The other boy flinched at the words of the blond.
“For real?” he asked ashamed, lowering his arms.
“Yes, Potter. Now go throw some water and soap on yourself and come back looking acceptable for once. I’ll also dress accordingly to a kitchen when you are done and then we’ll finally eat as two normal human beings.”
“Fine,” he accepted the first part without a second thought. “But, for the record, I don’t mind seeing you shirtless at all times”.
“Noted. Now go. I’ll finish with the rest of the toast and deal with the eggs while you’re in there.”
Harry did as told and, with one last look at Draco, he left the room, almost running all the way to the shower. He turned on the water and walked inside after leaving his clothes nest to the sink, and allowed the cold liquid to touch furiously his heated skin.
On the other side of the house, Draco was preparing everything just as he promised, but no matter what his hands were doing or what words left his mouth with every textbook incantation, his thoughts were far from those actions.
He was taking in the last words words exchanged, replaying them over and over again, as well as the feeling of having Harry’s front pressed to his back. The dialogue, no matter how embarrassing and awkward it had been, was just another proof of their closeness, of how much they have evolved over the years to finally reach the point of talking about anything without fearing a thing from the other. That domesticity brought a soft smile to Draco’s face.
They were far from perfect. Both made mistakes that couldn’t ever be erased, but they learned. They have grown up together, step by step, curse after curse and now, with each caress of the other’s skin.
The sound of the shower stopping could be heard even from where Draco was standing, but somehow, in the hurricane that had taken over his mind, it ended up being missed. He heard, however, Harry’s steps as he got back, hair still dump and clothes fitting him a bit awkwardly.
“Good, you’re done,” said Draco, turning around as soon as Harry came back. “You can start eating if you want, I’ll be back in a second.”
Five minutes later they were both seated on each side of the table, eating in silence. Harry was enjoying a glass of orange juice while Draco was more than pleased with his water, taking a mouthful every few bites.
It was peaceful. Calming. Familiar. Precious.
“Harry, could you please give me the salt from over there?”
“Sure, but don’t you think it’s salty enough?”
“It needs a little bit more.”
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
It wasn’t what he expected, but it was better that everything Draco believed he deserved.
He might never be able to say out lout exactly what he felt. He might never leave his insecurities in the open so easily. But, with Harry, he wanted to at least try.
He was stubborn. Full of pride. A coward in every sense of the word.
It wasn’t like him to be so open.
One day, Harry, I will tell you everything I can’t say right now. I don’t know why you chose me, but I swear, on Merlin’s beard, that I’ll prove to you that giving me this wasn’t a mistake.
And it will never be.