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He hears the door to the summerhouse open and then softly close.
He knows who it is, of course.
“Hey.”
Harry slides down the wall to sit on the floor next to him.
“I’m sorry.” He realises his voice is cracked. Guesses his eyes are red rimmed and puffy.
“Don’t be. It was a challenge being here tonight. I’m proud you wanted to give it a go, but there is no shame in needing to leave.” Harry's voice is soft. Slow. Reassuring.
“I just couldn’t do it. Seeing everyone. I could feel my thoughts getting away from me...I just…” He can feel his heart racing in his chest as he talks. His breaths coming faster.
Harry reaches out and takes his hand, traces his thumb over the back of it in steady circles, evenly timed to the pace his breaths should be taking. He tries to match it.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s not talking about running out on Harry this evening. It’s bigger than that. It’s always bigger than that. “You should leave. Or I should. You need to go back inside. Don’t waste your time out here with me.”
“It’s not a waste. Time with you never is. Often plenty of other things, but never a waste.” Harry’s voice is fond and exasperated at the same time now. He feels angry at him. How can Harry even stand to be here with him. Hold his hand. How can Harry want...this.
“How can you even stand to be near me?”
“I love you.” Harry says it as if it is simple, and he doesn’t understand how Harry can seem to think that just because he saw something in him once, that they had made a fleeting connection, that that is worth sticking around for. He’s a mess. He did terrible things. He feels torn apart inside. He’s surprised it isn’t visible, blood running from the rips, like they did when Harry cut him.
“It isn’t that easy, Harry”
Harry laughs. “I didn’t say it was easy. I said ‘I love you’.” Harry shifts so that he’s turned towards him, touches his face to make him look up. “I make that decision every morning when I wake up. To love you. Love isn’t a thing that just happens. It is continuous. It isn’t something I'm stuck with, it’s something I do.”
“Why?” When they are out with friends laughing and happy, or lying wrapped around each other in bed, sated, then he knows. But not in these moments when he’s crying and shaking, turned in on himself and the world.
“Because it’s worth it.” Harry touches his face again. Leans forward and kisses him softly when he looks up. He can feel his chest squeeze with it, his heart flutter. “I’m being selfish. I want you to be mine.”
He can’t believe it is true, even though those green eyes shout that it is. “You’re strong. I’m pathetic. Look at me. Sat out here crying in your garden.”
Harry pulls him against his shoulder, so his head rests there. Wraps an arm around him. “How many times a week do I see a Mind Healer?”
He hesitates, but Harry bumps their shoulders, trying to elicit an answer. “At least once, sometimes twice.”
“Mm-hm. And before?”
He breathes out slowly. “Twice. And at first you sometimes went every day.”
“Yeah. I’m just further down the line. I had more people to help in the early days. You are trying so hard. And I'm here. Neither of us were still kids by the time we came of age, but I got help right away.” Harry squeezes him. ”I’m strong enough now, that I can do this for the both of us. Until you are stronger too. And if I ever don’t feel like I can be, then I'll find someone to help us both be strong enough.”
“It isn’t fair. Letting you carry me like this.”
“Fuck fair, Draco. Whoever said ‘all’s fair in love and war’? Total shithead, didn’t know what they were talking about.” He can’t help but let out a tear stained laugh at Harry’s words.
Harry continues, “And besides…maybe I like being the one allowed to carry you, carry us, just for a while. You ever think of that? Without you, Draco,...”