st kill the mood, will you? “She’ll adopt me, stick me in with the gnargles.”

Harry laughs, ducking his head down to hide his expression, burying his face in Draco’s shoulder. Draco stiffens and tries to stand as still as he can, digs his fingers into the back of Harry’s sweater until he straightens up again. When he does, his face is a lot calmer, like the chaos of the battle had finally been knocked out of him.

“Yeah.” He’s letting go, stepping away, and Draco wants to pull him back. Kiss him, you idiot, weren’t you just thinking about all the things you would never get to say if he didn’te home, but no, this was not a decision to make at four in the morning. This time, there was no drinks to hide behind, no potion to blame it on, no friends to tear them apart. Here, now, it was only the two of them and whatever actions they took would have very lasting impressions. “Probably would.”

Harry is still waiting. Draco is still hoping that he’ll be the first to walk away, so that for once, Draco doesn’t have to look like a coward.

(He isn’t.)

(Draco always the one who leaves. He doesn’t see why that should change anytime soon.)

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