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Harry never really stood a chance.
Draco and he had a standing agreement to spend the weekend in one another’s beds. At the beginning, it was neither of them had time for a relationship, they both had certain needs, and frankly they found each other attractive.
It was easy. There wasn’t pressure to be something he wasn’t, Harry never worried that the gossip columns would catch wind of it, there wasn’t any wooing involved. It was just two bodies; just two people meeting one another’s needs in a very enjoyable way.
What Harry hadn’t expected were the feelings that were now inconveniently raising their ugly heads.
He’d gone over to the Weasley’s for Molly’s birthday dinner but insisted that Draco just stay at his house. Draco loved to watch those home remodeling shows on hgtv for whatever reason and he didn’t own a tv like Harry did. Harry had expected to come back and find him drinking wine and shouting at the tv about mismatching colors.
He hadn’t expected to come back and find Draco curled up on his side in Harry’s bed, fast asleep. His heart clenched at the sight of him, his shoulder length blond hair braided with little pieces that had come untucked, his cheeks rosy from the warmth of the bedroom and Harry’s duvet, his long blond eyelashes touching his high cheekbones, the little mole on his neck that Harry secretly adored, the way his fingers curled around the comforter, and a thousand other minute details that made Draco completely breathtaking.
And it suddenly occurred to Harry that he never wanted to get into his bed without Draco again.
He was in so much trouble.
Harry stood there, staring at Draco for a moment longer before turning off the tv, stripping down to his boxers, and climbing into bed next to the other man.
Once he’d settled in on his side, facing Draco, he lifted a hand and brushed the strands of hair off of the other man’s face.
Draco hummed and shifted slightly, “Harry?” he murmured.
It shouldn’t be possible for a heart to feel like it dissolved into a million pieces that fluttered around in your chest. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered.
But Draco never listened and this was no exception. He hummed and shifted closer, his arm slipping under the covers so his fingers could trail over Harry’s side and slip under the waistband of his boxers, “Do you want-”
“No,” Harry replied softly before he could finish.
At that, Draco’s left eye opened, searching Harry’s face, his eyebrows furrowing as he slid his hand up slightly to rest on Harry’s hip, “What? Why?”
“Just,” Harry sighed and tugged Draco closer, entwining their limbs together as he pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I just want to hold you.”
Draco was quiet for a minute, stroking his fingers along Harry’s spine, but Harry could practically hear the wheels of his brain turning. “Are you alright?” he finally asked.
He huffed a laugh that twisted and caught in his throat like a sob, “I don’t know.”
The other man’s body went very still for a moment before he resumed rubbing Harry’s back, “Tell me about it?” he asked softly, like he wasn’t really sure he had the right.
“I think I’m in over my head,” Harry confessed in a whisper.
And Draco waited, knowing that Harry would continue if he just gave him the space to.
“You,” he started, then shook his head, “You are fantastic.”
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” Draco asked, drawing back, eyes fully alert now. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, Harry,” he added. “I’m a big boy, if this isn’t working for you anymore just say so.”
“It’s not working for me anymore,” he breathed.
There was a flash of something in Draco’s eyes that made Harry want to rip his own heart out of his chest, but it was gone in an instant. “Yeah,” he said, nodding once. “Right. That’s fine.” He started to pull away, “This wasn’t meant to be forever and I’m sure-”
“Draco-”
“No, it’s fine, Harry,” he said, giving him a little smile that felt like a knife being twisted in his spine. “Potter,” he corrected, and Harry felt like he’d been slapped.
“Will you just listen for a minute?” Harry asked, sitting up so that he could see Draco clearly. “Just,” he shook his head, “give me a second.”
Draco crossed his arms over his chest but waited.
“It’s not working for me because I think I’m in love with you,” he said, he was ruining everything either way; he might as well be honest about it. “Because instead of just thinking about the fantastic ways that we can give each other orgasms, I’m thinking about the way you look asleep in my bed. I’m imagining breakfast together, reading in bed at the end of a long day, falling asleep wrapped up in you. I’m imagining the way you’d look smiling at me and dancing at our wedding. I’m imagining the way you’ll look holding a newborn baby before we bring them home. The way that your hair will always stay the same white blond no matter how old we get. I’m imagining the way your eyes will crinkle around the corners after a lifetime of smiling at me.”
The other man stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“And I know,” Harry continued, “That we said that this was no strings; this was supposed to be simple, just bodies and orgasms. But when I look at you all I see is forever. When I look at you, I’m desperate for more. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I had to-”
Draco lunged for him, shoving him onto his back as he straddled his hips and kissed him. “Stop talking,” Draco gasped. “Fuck, Harry, you have to stop or I’m going to-” he broke off and started kissing him again.
Harry gentled the kiss, curbing the desperation now that they had forever, cupping Draco’s face in his hands and kissing him lightly, sweetly.
“I see forever when I look at you, too,” Draco confessed with his lips still pressed against Harry’s.
“Really?” he murmured, brushing his thumb over Draco’s cheek and keeping their foreheads pressed together.
Draco nodded.
Harry pulled Draco down so that the full weight of his body was resting on him, grounding him to his bed and reminding him that this was real. “Stay,” he breathed.
“Yes,” the other man whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. “Yes, always.”