and drao uts him off, beause he’s ready for this, he’s beeh these w, a ry, oime. “i’m not someone you should be friends with, potter.”
“malfoy.” potter says, like a warning. “y again.”
“it’s not rap,” drao affirms. he ahe well of em up agaihe guilt, ao esape from it, and it’s making the edges of his vision go dark. he inhales sharply, struggles to keep himself here. “it’s…people are obviously going to talk, you know. this isn’t goiime, and there’s really they an say about me that hasn’t already been said, but y to get the worst of it. harry p friends with aer, someone who’s a little insane—”
a hand loses around his fingers, grips them tight and firm. drao pulls himself bak, fights his way bak from the omfortable darkness irouiy of the hand holding his.
&ururing oill holding his hand, and lht at him.
“i don’t really are about otter those peining,” potter is murmuring. “this harry potter wants to be friends with that ex-death eater, someone who’s a little insane.”
drao hukles, smiles at him weakly. “sazar, potter, you dido agree with the i.”
potter smiles bak at him. “your words, not mine. and look. you fought it off, didn’t you?”
he did. he did. a know if it’s beause it’s the first time he’s maop himself from falli hole his mind has made, or if it’s beause of the pride in potter’s eyes as he looks at him, to stay with him, that he finds his eyes beoming warm.
“yeah.” his voie is shaking. “thanks.”
&ill has go of his hahen, has it onvined you?”
it’s making drao have a hard time . “what?”
&ers oo leave me alone?”
aoo lose, too here is a traitor up his stomah and swelling iter’s proximity, his words, the way he’s looking at him. “no.”
“i’m gd.” there’s a rihe orer’s eyes when he smiles, and drao hates it, as muh as he hates the otter’s thumb is sl irles against his palm. there is pink potter’s heeks aoo. “i, err, i suppose this is a good time to tell you that i doly i iions in, uhm, beih you.”
and it’s like a blow to the hest. drao ughs, stunned ahless, and he duks his head, tries to stop the well of tears from falling.
“stop. stop,” he says, v. “you doo say it first.”
&ops. there is onfusion in potter’s voie. “what?”
drao grips potter’s hand bak. it feels right, potter’s hand in his. “give me a moment,” he says, and it’s almost a plea. he doesn’t wa kiss to taste like tears. he takes a deep, shaky inhale, ahe e. “give me a moment and then i’ll kiss you.”
a sharp ih. and then an ausatory “…you don’t say that ao wait a moment.”
and drao ughs again, giddy and es his eyes with his other ha by the hex, and it still hurts, that o’s nothio finally, fihis.
“goddamn, potter, you really have no patiene.”
and he swallows all the hesitation down his throat and pulls potter down for a kiss.
dear harry,
sider me surprised to see a piture of you and my son in an alleyway in hogsmeade.
i am writing to spare you the suffering of w about my thoughts oer.
i would love it if you ould join us for the holidays.
love,
narissa