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Draco sat up and stretched, his body stiff from the way he’d fallen asleep slumped over on Harry on the sofa. “Sorry,” he said even though he wasn’t really.
Harry glanced up at him from his book, giving him a little smile that lit up his eyes, “I don’t mind.”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the dimple that had appeared when Harry smiled at him. The other man turned his head, caught Draco’s lips with his own and kissed him sweetly for a long moment. When Draco pulled back he stroked a thumb over Harry’s cheek. “You are wonderful,” he murmured.
“You’re pretty wonderful, too,” Harry replied, leaning in to give him another kiss that made Draco’s heart stutter in his chest.
He pulled back with a little groan, “Alright, you have to stop distracting me. I have to go and clean up the kitchen from that potions experiment I was doing before you got back home.”
Harry pouted at him and Draco couldn’t help but steal one last kiss before standing up.
“Alright, the sooner I clean up, the sooner I can come back and cuddle. Do you want anything while I’m out there, love?” he asked as he started backing toward the kitchen.
The other man froze, his body going rigid before he turned to look at Draco more fully. “What?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed as he pulled his feet up onto the couch.
“I asked if you wanted anything while I was in the kitchen?”
Harry shook his head, bringing his knees up to his chest.
“Are you alright?” Draco asked, wondering what on earth could have come over the other man.
“Are you?” he countered.
“Of course,” Draco said, cocking his head at him uncertainly but Harry didn’t seem like he was going to say anything more. “Right,” he repeated feeling a bit wrong-footed, “I’m just going to go tidy up.”
“Okay,” Harry replied with a little nod.
Draco went to the kitchen and was tidying, trying to figure out what had just happened, when Harry came out. “Hey,” he said, trying to infuse it with as much warmth and cheerfulness as he could.
“Are you mad?” Harry asked.
“No,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Why would you ask-”
“Because if I did something,” Harry interrupted, “I wish you’d just tell me.”
Draco stepped over to him, “I’m not mad,” he said. “I swear. I don’t understand why you think I am.”
Harry searched his eyes for a moment, then shook his head like he was clearing a fog. “Right,” he said. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s nothing.”
Before he could respond, Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of Draco’s nose.
“What are you thinking for dinner tonight?” Harry asked as he turned away without another word on the matter. “I was thinking about making some pasta?”
“Sounds great,” Draco replied as he went back to tidying and attempting to let it be. “I picked up some of that spicy sausage you like,” he added.
After that, everything seemed to go back to normal. They made dinner and ate together, they snuggled up on the sofa for a quiet evening in. And when they went to bed Harry made slow, sweet love to him; kissing him, and holding him, and whispering soft words of adoration.
Draco had fallen asleep content and sated, wrapped in Harry’s arms.
———–
Some time later, in the inky dark of the wee hours of the morning, Draco woke up alone. He tried to let his mind relax, sure that Harry was just using the restroom, but the longer he waited, the more awake he found himself becoming. With a frown, he reached for his wand on the night stand and cast a quick tempus. 2:36.
Draco climbed out of bed and tugged on a pair of pajama trousers before padding out into the hallway. The bathroom door was open and unoccupied as he walked past and something vaguely foreboding stirred in Draco’s gut.
Light was spilling from the kitchen doorway when he turned the corner and, with a bit of trepidation, he headed that way. He tried to placate himself with thoughts that perhaps Harry had had a nightmare and wanted a cup of tea or perhaps he’d just gotten hungry.
But when he turned the corner, he saw that was not the case at all.
Harry was kneeling on the kitchen floor, scrubbing the grout between the tiles, with what appeared to be a toothbrush.
He just stared for a moment longer, trying to make sense of all of this and wondering vaguely if he might still be dreaming. “Harry,” he murmured and the other man startled so badly that he threw the toothbrush he was holding up in the air.
“Circe, Draco,” he said, sitting back on his heels, “You gave me a good scare.”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said before stepping into the kitchen more fully, “but darling, what on earth are you doing?”
“Oh,” Harry said, glancing around, “Just a bit of cleaning, the grout-”
“But it’s 2:30 in the morning,” Draco said.
Harry looked at the tile, “No, I know but-”
“Harry,” he whispered as he came to kneel in front of him on the floor, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” Harry denied quickly.
Too quickly. “Please,” Draco said.
“I just,” Harry blew out a breath. “I have a really hard time with that word.”
“With ‘please’?” Draco asked.
“What? No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Earlier, when you asked if you could get me anything from the kitchen.”
Draco thought through that sentence, “Which of those words, sweetheart? I’m sorry, I don’t understand-”
“Love,” Harry finally managed. “You called me-” he broke off and shook his head, putting a hand over his mouth.
“Okay,” Draco said, “okay,” he repeated. “I hear you,” he said softly. “Is it just that endearment or is it all-”
“Just that one,” he whispered miserably. He took a deep breath, “Love has always been something dangled over my head,” he finally managed. “When I was little, I thought that maybe if I could just be good, if I could do everything they wanted from me,” he shook his head but didn’t finish that line of thought. “And there was Dumbledore and I thought that he,” he broke off again, rubbing the back of his neck “but he didn’t, not really, I was a means to an end. And there was Sirius and Remus but they died and I never had-” his voice broke and tears spilled out of his eyes.
“Okay,” Draco murmured, pulling Harry into his arms and holding him against his chest. “Alright, darling,” he breathed, pressing a kiss into Harry’s hair. “I’ve got you.”
Finally when Harry managed to compose himself he drew back, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “And it’s not that I don’t feel that way about you, please don’t think-”
“I hear you,” Draco said, softly. “And I know how you feel about me without the words.”
Harry nodded miserably.
“It’s alright,” he assured. “It’s all fine, Harry. We’re works in progress, both of us. And it doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Harry protested, “I should be able to-”
“It doesn’t,” he said softly but firmly. “I don’t need the words because I see them on your face when you smile at me. I feel them when you touch me. I hear them when you defend me. I smell them when you light vanilla candles because you know I love them. I taste them when you bring me a perfectly made cup of tea.” He brushed his thumb over Harry’s cheekbone. “You tell me in a million different ways.”
A tear slipped down Harry’s cheek and Draco gently wiped it away.
“I’ll work on it,” Harry promised.
Draco shrugged, “If you want to, but if you don’t that’s okay, too.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Harry’s, “I promise to never use my affection as leverage. And,” he added, with a little smile, “I promise that you will always know when I am mad about something. Like the socks you leaving lying all over the flat.”
Harry let out a wet sounding chuckle and Draco’s heart unclenched just a little bit. “I don’t think I deserve you,” Harry murmured.
Draco snorted, “You deserve a good deal more, I suspect, but I’ll do my best.”
“Me, too,” Harry promised.
“What more could I possibly want?” he replied with a soft kiss.
————-
The words did come eventually, years later, but Draco had meant what he said that day. The words were nice but they were no better than all of the ways that Harry Potter had been saying 'I love you’ all along.