Work Text:
Sometimes, Draco looks up. His eyes are tired for all that reading, his body strung high with frustration because he can't make sense of what little information he can gather anymore and then he sees him.
Sometimes, Draco looks up and all he can see is Harry, sitting on the sofa, with his legs curled underneath him, reading a book or sipping tea gone cold from Draco's mug, maybe wearing those too large T-shirt that he seems so fond of wearing and that make his collarbone peek out. His cheekbones are so strong and his eyelashes so long. Maybe he took off his glasses, maybe his hair is more unruly than usual. Maybe it's just the way the light fall on his fingers, drumming and tapping, his fingernails clicking.
Sometimes, Draco looks up and all he sees is Harry's skin, so smooth and unblemished, so very very pale and all he can think of is that he wants to kiss and lick and bite that skin. He wants to spend hours on that skin, making sure to elicit all those moans and sighs and breathing pleas that drive him crazy. To make Harry's every nerve-ending bloody sing under his ministrations. He wants - so desperately - to mark that skin, to own that skin, to make sure that no one, no one, ever touches it again. Because that skin belongs to him and him alone. Still, Draco has work to do; he has researches to make, books to peruse, theories to prove - the war isn't going to be won by itself, after all - and he can't waste precious time to make sure that everything is as it should. That the whole world knows Harry is his. And that is so frustrating. So he has to make due.
Sometimes, Harry feels Draco's stare and he knows it will be one of those time. He knows Draco loves him, there's no doubt about that - in fact, Draco does it because he loves him. Harry knows all this. He's been told so many many times, now, too many to count, and Draco is always so very gentle with him, afterwards.
Sometimes, Harry feels Draco's stare and he knows that if he ever told anyone about it, they wouldn't understand. This was Draco's way of loving him. Harry knows that if anyone ever found out about it, he'd end up being taken away from Draco - "for your own good, Harry", they'd say - but Harry has fought so hard to get Draco, and loves him so much. Loosing Draco would be unbearable.
And after all, everybody knows that love hurts.
Still, when Harry feels Draco staring at him that way, Harry can't help himself from going taut as a string, waiting, waiting.
Sometimes, Harry feels Draco's stare on his skin and knows that he's going to be very much in pain very soon. He hopes Draco won't break any bones this time, because he's out of Skele-grow and Madam Pomfrey won't believe he's fallen down the stairs again - it was a lame excuse anyway, even he can't be that clumsy. Sometimes, the bruises are so dark that even glamours won't cover them - not that he covers all of them. "What would be the point, then?", Draco always says. Sometimes, he's in so much pain that even his fucking eyelids hurt. Especially that time when his glasses got in the way - he had almost lost his sight, then! Still, it's not much worse than what Vernon did, back at home. Harry can take it.
Sometimes, Harry feels Draco's stare and knows that soon, though, something's going to have to give. Because Harry can take it, but he's not sure how long he will last, at this rate. Still, as long as Draco loves him, everything's going to be all right.