Work Text:
-------
It was finally nighttime, and they were in bed. It had been a hot, muggy day, the kind where you’re faced with the impossibility of leaving your own skin to get relief, and Harry was so glad it was over. The air in their room was still a bit too hot for them to be properly touching, but Draco’s bony ankles were locked around one of Harry’s calves as he lay on his side and scrolled mindlessly. Harry was just content to lie quietly next to him, eyes nearly closed but not quite ready for sleep. The window is open and occasionally the sound of a car would carry from the street and through Harry’s mind like a rolling bead, gradually dropping in volume and giving way to a full, expansive silence. There was no wind, so the air wasn’t moving much, and it could have been that, or Harry’s exceptionally mindful state, or something else entirely that caused Harry’s eyes to suddenly fly open. Something was off. Harry lies still, eyes darting around his field of vision. No shadows had moved out of their designated corners, no spiders suddenly descended. His stomach muscles flex as he lifts his neck and shoulders off the bed, listening closely, looking this way and that. No mischievous cat sounds from downstairs, no rushing water. Everything that would usually disturb his senses seemed to be entirely in order. But then - oh. The tiniest sound, something that could have passed for a shifting clump of synthetic fill in their pillows, something barely even there but - yes. A little aborted noise. Harry props himself up on his side. Draco is crying.
“Hey, hey, hey, bunny, what’s wrong?”
Harry wraps himself around Draco to the best of his ability, wedging his arm under him over the warmed mattress and plastering himself to his side. Draco’s ankles are still locked around Harry’s, and he has to hold himself up awkwardly to avoid putting too much of his weight on the slender, shaking frame. Harry noses at Draco’s soft, flushed cheek. “Shhh, you’re okay, you’re good,” he says in the smoothest, gentlest tone he can muster. Draco lets out a pained whimper and curls in on himself, pulling Harry with him in the process. When something is terribly wrong, Draco sobs. These quiet little choked-off sniffles and sobs are heartbreaking, but Harry feels a spark of relief at the knowledge that whatever it is, it can’t be beyond repair. Draco is making little noises now, little tears streaking salty lines across his cheeks, his nose, his shining upper lip. Harry’s heart aches at the sight. He presses small, soft kisses to Draco’s hairline, still damp and citrus-scented from his evening shower. “You’re okay, I’m here, I’m here,” he mumbles into the soft skin by Draco’s ear. Draco’s eyes flutter and the hand that’s still holding his phone gropes for Harry’s forearm, long fingers latching on in a tight grip, sandwiched with cool glass and metal. “Sorry!” he hiccups, the first syllable breaking off and repeating a few times until he gets the word out, pressing his head into the pillow under them. Harry gives him a gentle squeeze, hooking his chin over Draco’s bony shoulder. “Just breathe, it’s just you and me, don’t be sorry,” he says, fingers rubbing out a soothing pattern on Draco’s flank. Draco shakes his head, poorly rendered and sparrow-like, neither negative or affirmative, and lets out a shaky exhale. Harry can see the screen of his phone still lit up where it’s pressed against Harry’s forearm, cool and damp on his skin. They lie there for a long while, Harry muttering gentle nonsense against his boyfriend’s throat, Draco taking shallow, shaky breaths as his body slowly unclenches. His narrow rib cage stills gradually in Harry’s secure hold. Draco’s ankles release their hold on Harry’s leg.
“I- uh-” Draco begins, but then cuts himself off to release Harry’s arm and his phone and wipe at his runny nose with the back of his hand. It’s not very effective and it only smears the snot across his salt-bitten skin. “Here, let me-” Harry lifts up slightly and hooks his pajama top sleeve over his thumb, dabbing the moisture away as gently as he could with the soft cotton. Draco lets out a little huff, almost a laugh. “Gross.” Harry smiles and butts his forehead against Draco’s, then rolls right over him to lie face to face on his other side, landing with a small grunt. “Hey!” Draco protests, squirming under the leg Harry throws over his hips, pulling them closer together. His eyes are tinged with red and dull from tears, but he looks soft and grateful when their eyes finally meet across the pillowcase, noses just inches away. “Hey bunny,” Harry says with a smile, tucking some of Draco’s fringe back behind his ear. “Hi,” says Draco, grey eyes under worried, dark brows, nostrils flaring for a split second before he buries his face in the pillow and groans. He says something muffled and unintelligible into the pillow, and Harry curls closer to him. “Hm?” says Harry, pressing his stubbled cheek against Draco’s neck. “Didn’t quite catch that.” Draco lets out another mumbled string of words, and Harry chuckles against him, the sound reverberating through his chest to the bed and to Draco. Draco chuckles weakly and turns his head to the side. His face is pillow creased and red from the pinked and pressure. “I said I’m sorry for being actually insane,” says Draco, his voice a little hoarse but tinged with embarrassed amusement. “That’s silly,” Harry smiles against his cheek, “I thought Narcissa had you tested for that.” Draco huffs a laugh. “Well, they were clearly wrong. I’m completely mad. They have a photo of me in the dictionary under crazy, actually.”
“Oh, do they really!” Harry flops back onto the pillow, reaching up to take Draco’s face gently in his hands. Draco melts into his touch, eyes fluttering closed pressing against his palms like a cat. “Must be a best-seller, that dictionary, you’re very photogenic.” Draco snorts, his own hands coming up to cover his face over Harry’s. One eye blinks open, peeking through their intertwined fingers. “Piss off.” Harry gently runs his fingertips over Draco’s soft earlobes, the delicate shell of his ear. “Never.”
They stay like that for a long while, just touching, smiling, silly and soft in the quiet, cooling air. The stale air of the day has finally replaced itself, and there’s even a light breeze rustling the curtains and the origami mobile hanging on their wall. “Cold,” mumbles Draco, sliding out of Harry’s hold to grab at their duvet and slide into Harry’s arms, pulling the soft, blue cover over them both. Harry kisses Draco’s forehead, tangles their cold feet together in their little cocoon. Draco’s hand traces idle patterns on Harry’s chest as they lie there and listen to the distant traffic and each other’s breathing.
“I really am crazy,” says Draco after a while, and it’s quiet and even, like it’s a fact, like something universally acknowledged. The hand Harry was running through Draco’s hair stills for a moment before resuming its gentle movement through the silky blond locks. “I was on - I was on TikTok,” Draco begins, and he says it with the ghost of a sneer, a tone Harry knows is only reserved for Draco himself these days. “And there was this video of this man explaining how to use b-” he swallows, and drops his palm flat against Harry’s chest. “He was going to explain how to use a bike rack? Like at a supermarket? I guess it’s a series about bike safety or something? But then it was this shot of a parking lot and he was like-”
Harry can hear Draco’s throat tighten, his breathing grow a fraction heavier. He gives Draco an encouraging squeeze with the arm he’s got curled around his waist. Draco blinks rapidly, long eyelashes catching on the cotton of Harry’s shirt. “Gah, it’s literally nothing. He literally shows this metal thing in some parking lot and he starts making fun of it? For not being a very good bike rack? And he calls it s-” he cuts himself off, takes a slow breath. His words had been coming out faster and faster, lilting up at the end of each sentence. Harry presses his lips to the crown of Draco’s head , not even in a kiss, just one soothing point of contact in the little knot of themselves. He feels Draco’s shoulders relax, hears him take a steadying breath. “Nothing. He just started calling this bike rack stupid and hideous. That’s literally it. I didn’t even watch the whole video.” He tilts his head up to look at Harry through his still-damp eyelashes. “See? Insane.” His gaze drops, and he sounds so flat and resigned that Harry feels his heart clench in his chest. He pulls Draco into an impossibly tighter embrace, feeling his whole magical core flare to wrap around them both, an additional layer of pressure and care on top of their intertwined limbs. “Hey, bunny. No. You’re not crazy. I promise. You’re not crazy.” Harry rocks Draco gently against his chest, feeling the beginning of a tear sliding down onto the collar of his shirt from Draco’s face. “Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter, but you’re not. It’s just your heart. Yeah? Your heart is so big.” Draco sniffles and buries his face in Harry’s neck, and Harry starts running a hand down up one of Draco’s arms, smoothing over his shoulder and coming down again. “You’ve got a lovely big heart and big feelings and that’s fine. Of course you need to cry about it sometimes. That’s perfectly fine. You’re doing so good. Yeah? You’ve got-” Harry swallows. It’s still strange to him, how easy it is for him to be loving, when it comes to Draco. How the words are always right there, waiting to come out, one way or another. He licks his lips, presses a firm kiss to the side of Draco’s head. “You’ve been going to therapy, yeah? And you tell me when you think something is sad or lonely and then we figure out what to do about it together. And you can calm down so quickly now when you get upset, right? This was only a few minutes, bunny, nothing at all. You just have big feelings, and so you feel things other people don’t know how to feel yet, yeah? That’s not crazy, that’s just being Draco, hm?”
Draco slowly pulls himself up so they’re face to face, his pointy elbows digging into Harry’s ribs. He doesn’t mind one bit. “Hm?” Harry prompts again, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, brushing their noses together. Draco nods, a tiny movement, all exquisitely crafted and high-res this close to Harry’s glasses, a million subtle shades of alabaster and silver and pink. “Yeah,” says Harry, tightening his hold on Draco for a moment. “Thank you for letting me hold you.”
Draco’s head drops and he huffs a small laugh, a tiny smile playing on his lips, reaching up to his eyes when their eyes meet again. “You’re welcome.”
Harry grins, pinching Draco’s sides. Draco jumps at the feeling, moving to slap at Harry’s chest with one of his hands but accidentally losing his balance from his position on Harry’s chest. He falls flat against Harry, who immediately wraps himself tightly around him like a koala, locking his wrists and ankles behind Draco’s back. Draco feigns some protesting noises for a few moments before relaxing in Harry’s arms.
“The bike rack was against a wall.” says Draco, after a long moment of silence. His breathing is even now, soft breaths tickling against Harry’s collarbones. “Yeah?” asks Harry. “So it’s not alone, it has the wall.” he adds, following the logic of Draco’s heart and mind that he’s long familiarized himself with, a world of comfort and pairs. Draco nods, slowly and then quickly a couple more times. “Yeah, it’s not alone.” says Draco, and Harry presses a small kiss to Draco’s forehead, moves them around so they’re lying more comfortably between the pillows and sheets.
Through the window, the sharp, clean air parts to let in the sound of a car driving by, followed by another immediately after.
-----