Work Text:
Time has stopped like only an August day can. A train is passing in the distance, a stubborn bee is exploring the empty glasses on the table, under the shadow of an awning shaped like a sail.
There's a light breeze from the afternoon's summer storm. The clouds are grey and the sun is gilding the trees, the landscape and Draco's hair. it's rather dramatic and sweet.
A hand under a shirt, a wrist enclosed with two fingers. The scratchy feel of the raw material the hammock is made of. The steady rise and fall of breath. The flutter of eyelashes and heart.
- Do you remember the first time we saw each other? Draco's voice, muffled by closeness.
- Yes, I didn't like you very much
- stop smiling, I was a spoiled child. And I meant the first time we "saw" each other, Draco making a lazy airquote with his left hand, and putting it back heavily under Harry's shirt.
I do remember Harry's heart is saying -
It's so humbling to see someone grow and change under your gaze. And then the slow opening to love. It's not falling, because it's not sudden. It's ease and depth all at once. It's coming back to each other again and again. But how do you transcribe all of this with words?
Fingers moving from wrist to neck, a hand gripping under a shirt, a whisper
- I see you now
The bee has found a fruit pit, the rain puddles are drying.