Work Text:
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting ethereal patterns across the bed. Draco marvelled at the way the silver light danced on Harry's face, making his scar look like a faint whisper.
He traced the line of Harry's jaw, feeling the stubble rasp against his thumb.
Harry slept soundly, his breaths even and deep, his magic a gentle hum in the air. It swirled around him, a shimmering veil of protection and power that Draco could almost see with his eyes closed. To Draco, Harry's magic was a living entity, breathing and pulsing with a rhythm all its own.
And beyond that, it was—pure and simple—safety.
Leaning closer, Draco let his fingers brush against the edge of that invisible barrier, feeling the warmth and intensity that had always been Harry's alone. It slid around him too, inviting him in, seemingly endless.
It was astonishing, really, how such boundless strength could reside in one person, yet here he was, the Boy Who Lived, so utterly vulnerable and trusting in his bed.
Draco's heart ached with a mixture of awe and something deeper, something yet unspoken and fierce. He had spent years learning to hate Harry, and now, every day, he found himself learning to love.
He placed a gentle kiss on Harry's bare shoulder, the contact sending a ripple through the magic, a soft acknowledgment of Draco's presence. Harry stirred, his eyes fluttering open, their glittering depths meeting Draco's soft gaze.
"Draco," Harry whispered, a sleepy smile curving his lips. He reached out, clutching Draco's hand. More magic enveloped him, pulling him in.
"I'm here," Draco murmured, his voice a vow.
As Harry drifted back to sleep, Draco continued to watch, mesmerised by the man who had, against all odds, become the most important part of his life. In the quiet of the night, wrapped in Harry's magic and silver moonlight, Draco felt a profound sense of peace. After years of fear and running, he finally knew he was safe.