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"Stupid, reckless, fucking Potter, always trying to get himself killed! His luck is that I am already blond because if not help me Salazar, I would kill him myself for all the white hairs he gives me! Oh, he will hear it from me that's for sure, who does he think he is- who gave him the right-?!"
Only half of Harry's brain was registering the grumbling voice that was rapidly approaching, because he had just fought a dragon. An actual 30-feet-something dragon. By himself. On a broom. A stick made of wood that could fly. Against a 30-feet-something dragon that could not only fly but burst him with flames as well.
It was absolutely crazy how the adults didn't seem the least bit worried by the fact that a 14 year old flew with a real dragon. Harry was angry, his hands were shaking quite a bit, and he didn't even want to know what Draco (the only type of dragon he liked to chase in this ease run from) would do because he was sure the fierce Slytherin was livid.
Talking about Draco, the grumbling voice was actually really similar to his-
"-honestly, so unfair! You're lucky you and I are rich and can keep up with my beauty creams, so my skin won't show all of the worry lines you give me, Potter! Absolutely unacceptable! You're lucky I love you, you know?!" Draco continued his angry rant while wrapping his arms tightly around Harry's waist from behind, hiding his face in the shorter boy's hair.
Harry yelped. "Draco? What's wrong-?"
Draco sighed exasperatedly, mumbling something akin to fucking dumbarse. He then turned Harry around, grabbing his face within his palms. The idiot was so small that just his pale hands covered most of his face. How could those imbeciles let a literal child (and one that was this precious, mind you) compete on that monstrosity?!
The Slytherin had his eyebrows furred and his mouth was contorted into a frown. Harry briefly thought of teasing him; Draco was always hot when grumpy about something. But he refrained from it when he recognised the pure worry on his face.
"Don't you dare die on me, Potter. I swear to Salazar." Draco said, voice serious. He couldn't lose Harry. Anyone but Harry. The dumb, selfless Gryffindor looked confused, his nose would always scrunch up when confused. It was most definitely not helping his case that he was absolutely adorable and looked younger than his few 14 years. After this, he would be making sure his father hears about this. Lucius would really really really enjoy a good opportunity to take Dumbledore and Fudge down. Incompetent, manipulative bastards, he always said.
"Draco, I'm okay, don't worry."
"No! I was so scared! You will not fucking die, you hear me! I forbid you, Potter!" The worry in the bright grey eyes seemed to shine. The hold that Draco had on the bespectacled boy's face grew stronger, as if he would suddenly disappear.
Harry blinked up at him. Well, okay then. Draco forbids me to die, so I won't die. Simple.
But, if Harry was to be completely honest with himself, he was also afraid to die. Of course he was. Terrified, actually, because if this was the first task, the supposed easy one, he didn't even want to know the second one. But at least he won a golden egg. Golden is cool.
After a few minutes of staring at one another Draco sighed dramatically and removed his hands from Harry's face. He then wrapped his arms around the raven haired boy and picked him up.
Harry squealed and was quick to wrap his legs around Draco's lean torso. His thin arms circled the blond's neck. Draco was surprisingly blessed with strong, lean muscles, in an elegant way. His height definitely helped him, as he was almost one head and a half taller than Harry. Harry normally pouted and said that Draco was Hagrid's long lost brother. Draco just smirked and replied by saying that it wasn't his fault that Harry was Flitwick's third degree cousin. The discussion usually didn't end well.
"You nitwit, what do you think you're doing-"
"Oh, shut it, Potter, don't act like you don't ask me to carry you around all the time.”
Harry huffed angrily (it was cute, in Draco's most unbiased opinion) and just hid his face in the blond's neck, arms now enveloping his torso and legs his waist.
Draco grabbed onto Harry's waist with one arm while the other supported him under his thighs. "I don'," Harry grumbled, voice muffled.
Draco smiled, something that is solely reserved for Harry (and his mother sometimes. Can't forget his mother.). Harry was just too cute. At least when he wasn't being his sarcastic-troublesome self. Even Snape had trouble dealing with him from time to time, because how can you be mean to someone who had a ridiculously close resemblance to a small black kitten?
Harry, for all the brave and fearless mask that he usually puts on, coundn't help but just melt into Draco. Like he always did. Maybe it had to do with his childhood, but it happened every single time. He craved it.
So, it didn't really come off as a surprise when Harry's temporary stubbornness was forgotten and he was pressing little, adoring kisses on Draco's neck, giggling when Draco started to press kisses himself on the top of the Gryffindor's head. Or when Draco entered the library with Harry still in his hold, wallking towards their friends' spot by the window. Or when no one absolutely questioned it because everyone was used to the dynamic by now. Unfortunately, Ron grumbled. Yeah. It wasn't really a surprise.
Draco sat by the window, demanding that everyone move from their original spot so he could stay there with Harry. The spot by the window was Harry's favourite, he liked to be near the light, the sounds, the outside. So, obviously, that's where Draco makes the two of them sit all time. Mostly peacefully.
Harry shifted around a little, trying to make himself comfortable in the new place. He opted by continuing to sit on Draco's lap - no shocker- keeping his face in the blond's neck. Shielding him from the glances and jokes of their friends. He was growing very tired by the minute, the nerves and fear having worn him out and making themselves known. He could smell the gentle and expensive cologne that Draco used, something akin to apples and rained grass. He could feel Draco's soft heartbeat, a constant reminder of his presence, his love, his will to live. Harry could also hear Draco's soothing voice talking to Blaise and Dean about their upcoming Potions paper. His voice was deep, his accent rich and polished, but also kind and warm. He could just feel Draco.
Harry was slowly, but surely, being lulled into sleep. He would still occasionally press kisses into the pale, smooth skin, always being rewarded with a loving caress on the back of his neck and a kiss on his forehead. Harry sighed. I love him.
"I love you too, Scarhead, so very much. You can rest now, love," Draco whispered, nuzzling his nose on Harry's raven messy hair.
And with a soft kiss, Harry closed his eyes. Everything was going to be okay, he knew it. Even if all of Draco's hair turns white.