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On the eve of every full moon, Harry always sleeps restlessly— his precious memories seeping into disjointed dreams that are multicolored and bright with excitement and anticipation and longing. The scent of the sea, the sparkle of water, the glimmer of fins and pearls and melodic laughter, the cold droplets of water slowly being warmed by sun-kissed skin… each recollection invades his slumbering thoughts and stays there as he blinks his eyes open in welcome of a new day.
He goes to the place where the land meets the sea and his footsteps shift from light pads to thunderous heartbeats as he breaks into a run at the exact moment his face breaks into an ear-splitting smile. The bright shimmer of colors against the dark grains of sand and earth is like a beacon— it pulls him in until he slides to his knees and makes the rivulets of water and sand fly around them as he and his beloved crash in reunion.
“I’ve missed you,” he always says in greeting. And Draco glows, always, in response.
He scoops Draco in his arms and they sit by the shore. They talk about everything and nothing and Harry watches, amazed, as always, as the magic covers Draco’s body, seeps into the glittering scales which slowly melt into flushed, milky white skin.
They wait until Draco’s able to wiggle his toes, and Draco complains when Harry makes him ride on his back even though they both know that they like it this way— that the brush of Draco’s skin against the expanse of Harry’s back makes it more real that they’re together again— and that this, even just for a while, quenches their thirst for physical contact after days and nights of separation.
They talk as they make their way back to the castle.
Draco’s breath is warm and it heats up the shell of Harry’s ear, the side of his neck, the slope of his jaw… and the heats courses through his entire body until it’s flowing like wild currents underneath his skin.
They talk until they reach the castle and Harry somehow always manages to maintain a leisurely pace.
Day in and day out they spend each waking minute together, only to tumble into a mess of limbs and mouths and frantic hands and breaths as the sun sets each day.
And when the moon cycles anew and the magic wanes, they walk back to the shore, their hands clasped until it’s time for Draco to return to his kingdom in the sea. They leave each other with nothing more than a long, lingering kiss that’s laced with promise and adoration and devotion and love.
And Harry waits until the eve of the next full moon— sleeps restlessly as each recollection invades his slumbering thoughts and stays there as he blinks his eyes open in welcome of a new day. Of their promised reunion.
