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Harry wasn’t much. Not in his eyes.
He had small things to be proud of, though. Like his 200 day streak of not taking a blade to his wrist — he thought that was pretty cool.
Every line on him has faded to pink, raised scars. And that’s fine, he thinks they’re ugly, but at least they’re not gone. They show he went through something.
They validate him, in a way.
But today, today has been grueling. It was terrible, with the constant glares from everyone because of the stupid damn goblet, the occasional shoves.. it set something off in him.
And as he sat in his four poster, the curtains drawn and blade in his hand, his tears prickled behind his green eyes, waiting to be released.
And as he dragged it along, feeling the sharp sting on top of his thin skin, he gasped and he wondered if he should stop.
But it was too late, anyway. The blade had bit, sinking its venom in, and there was no reason to give up now.
He can’t quite remember what happened after that, but as he blinked through his blurry vision, he saw he had 4 new marks on his skin.
Dissapointed with himself, he was. He was doing well.
But he was bred to cocoon into things he’s always known, to cower back in the cage like an abused dog. He’s not strong enough to heal.
He’s not strong enough for a lot of things.
Reluctantly, he put his blade under his book on his night stand with a sigh, and slipped his arm under his sleeve.
He knew he should probably tell someone.
Someone like Draco.
Draco would be mad at him, though, wouldn’t he? He promised he wouldn’t, Draco made him swear. But Harry can’t keep promises regarding his life and safety.
He should probably say something, though. Maybe that’s why his feet were dragging down the hallway, towards the Slytherin common rooms. The cloth of his sweater kept rubbing against his wounds, and he winced every time.
He eventually got to the entrance, and he timidly knocked.
Pansy answered, and of course, she smirked.
“Draco, company,” she called out with a eyelash bat.
It took a few moments for Draco to stand from the couch and walk over. As he did this, Pansy turned her gaze back to Harry, and attempted to study him.
Draco peaked his head around the door.
Harry looked at his feet and sniffed, unwilling to show his shame, which he felt quite a lot of.
“A moment, Pansy?” Draco said quietly, shooing her off and shutting the door.
“Harry?” he said softly, stepping forward cautiously.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, barely audible. He did not meet Draco’s gaze.
“Harry…”
“I know I said I wouldn’t,” Harry cut him off, shifting his weight on his feet, “but I’m pants at promises.”
Draco bit his lip, Harry could tell by the soft wet sound of it.
“Show me.”
Harry glanced up nervously, before looking away again.
This was going to be humiliating.
He slowly raised his wrist and thrust the sleeve up, feeling the same water prick at his eyes as before.
Draco gently took a hold of his arm, gazing at it slowly. His fingers were gentle around his arm.
“Come to my dorm,” he said, gently lowering his wrist, but never letting go.
Harry nodded.
He walked into the Slytherin dorms with Draco, not wanting to look at Pansy’s look of possible understanding as they walked down the hall.
“Wait here,” Said Draco, gently patting his bed and retreating to the bathroom.
Harry was quite nervous. He scooted farther back on the bed. He kicked his shoes off and brought his knees to his chest.
He wanted to know why Draco hadn’t yelled at him, or scolded him, or clicked his tongue in disappointment, or threw his arm down, or told him to go away, that he can’t look at him right now.
He assumed that it would happen after.
Draco returned with a paper towel and a kit of some sort.
Harry didn’t look up, the bed shifted under Draco’s weight next to Harry.
“Come here,” Draco whispered, turning to Harry.
Harry hesitantly obeyed, putting his legs down and crossing them under himself.
“Arm”, and Harry obeyed.
Draco’s touch was nice, loving, even. He first gently prodded with his fingers, before grabbing a damp folded paper towel and dabbing it in the wounds.
Harry did not wince, but he hit his lip and willed himself not to cry.
Draco put the pink paper towel down and absently rubbed his thumb on the unmarked skin, before reaching to grab something.
He undid the cap with his teeth, huffing a little with effort.
“This is gonna sting a little,” he warned, his speech messed up from the cap.
Harry only hummed in response. He was not sure what Draco put on, but it did indeed sting.
He winced and his wrist jerk a bit, and Draco immediately stopped. He pulled the pad away and hovered it above.
Only then did Harry meet his gaze.
“You okay?” Draco asked.
“Why aren’t you mad?” Harry said instead, giving his wrist back.
Draco took it easily and timidly began to press the pad back on, lathering each cut in the moist alcohol — yes, that’s what it was.
“Mad?” Draco scoffed, shaking his head. “Why would I be mad?”
Harry shrugged and looked back at his lap. Draco tried to recap the alcohol (with great effort), so Harry pulled his wrist away so he could use his hands.
“Because I broke my promise?” Harry suggested meanwhile, biting his lip. “Because it was pitiful of me? I broke my streak?”
Draco furrowed his eyebrows and nudged Harry’s knee. Harry stretched his arm again, but he was nudged again.
He nervously looked up…
…Only to be met by Draco’s warm eyes. His hair was a bit messy, not gelled, and he wore a loose T-shirt, the sleeves a bit more tight and stopping at his eyebrows. He had pajama pants on.
Even after a near year of dating, he got flustered all the same at the sight of his boyfriend. His cheeks tinged pink.
“That,” he murmured, taking a sterile dressing and hovering above his cuts, “would be ridiculous.”
Harry didn’t respond. He swallowed.
He finally pressed the dressing down, and he lowered Harry’s arm, his hands still wrapped around it.
“My love,” he started, looking up at Harry. Harry bit his lip.
“You did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me. You are strong, and brave, and it isn’t your fault.”
“But it is,” Harry interjected, his voice breaking.
“It isn’t. Beautiful, you did nothing wrong, let me take care of you,” he whispered, like it was a swear, a promise.
Harry swallowed again, struggling against the newfound swollen lump in his throat.
Draco lowered his lips to Harry’s wrist, kissing the bandaged wounds softly, and then above it, kissing the old white scars.
He continued to kiss, all the way up his arm, until his bicep, kissing the 3 raised pink ones. And he continued, up and up, until his shoulders, where a minefield of white ones rest, and he kissed so gently, tugging his sleeve up for better access.
His fingers gently moved the neck of his shirt to kiss his collar bones, and up his neck, softly, covering each spot of available skin. He had to scoot closer, raising Harry’s legs to loosely rest on top of his thighs.
He kissed Harry’s jawline, carefully cupping the back of his head. He kissed under his chin, then on top. Harry hadn’t realized he was crying until Draco kissed his tears away, and then he moved to the bridge of his nose, then the tip of it, opening his eyes and smiling warmly at him.
And his eyes fluttered closed again as he kissed his temples. And Harry had to close his own so Draco could kiss his eyes, too, and he kissed his eyebrows and forehead and every single inch of his face.
“You are perfect,” he swore, his voice a bit muffled as he kissed his hairline.
And slowly, timidly, lazily, even, he kissed Harry’s lips, moving his hands to the nape of Harry’s neck.
Harry let another tear fall, and it probably wet Draco’s face as he leaned impossibly closer.
Draco finally broke the kiss, smiling at Harry once more, brushing his hair aside.
“You are amazing, you are pretty, and you are strong. You are so strong, Harry. So wonderful. Your mind, and how much you endure, it’s just brilliant.”
Harry sniffed, pouting a bit.
Draco kissed it right off of his face.
“And you’re you. That is the most perfect thing you could ever be.” Draci mumbled against his lips.
Harry kissed him back, quieting him. Draco smiled, his eyes fluttering open as he watched Harry’s beautiful face, his closed eyes.
And he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling his closer until he was just about straddling his lap.
Harry opened his mouth, and their tongues met in a non lustful dance - it was waltz to show what love can be, and what it is.
Their lips slide together, and Harry almost forget about the dull ache in his wrist.
When they finally broke apart, Draco grinned lopsidedly at Harry’s half swollen lips.
“Kissing me won’t shut me up. You’re perfect, seriously.”
“You said that already,” Harry pointed out, his voice quiet. He wrapped his arms lazily around Draco’s neck.
“Did I? Oh, give me a break. I’m running out of adjectives.”
Harry laughed and rolled his eyes, his breath brushing against Draco’s face.
Their gazes met, and Harry wondered how someone like Draco could love him. How they could hold him like this, kiss him like he’s real, and tend to his wounds like he’s — perfect , for lack of better words.
“Thank you.” Harry said finally, summing everything he wanted to say in a tiny little ball of two words.
“I love you,” Draco replied, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, and Harry watched in awe.
“I don’t deserve that.”
Draco scoffed, kissing Harry softly again. “Sure, and magic doesn’t exist,” Draco murmured against him.
Harry frowned (as best as he could with lips on his), but kissed back just the same.
Draco sighed and flopped back onto the pillows, booking his knees under Harry’s bum. He pushed him, so Harry was sprawled on top of Draco, like a blanket.
Draco wrapped his long arms against Harry’s thin frame, rubbing circles into his back.
“I love you,” Draco said again, his chin moving against the top of Harry’s head.
“I love you more.” Harry promised, intertwining his fingers with Draco’s free hand.
They fell asleep like that, not bothering to put away the kit, nor change their clothes.
And Harry willed himself to believe it, just this once - that he was loved.
Because it felt nice to be loved. It was like being remembered, being seen.
And he will die happy knowing Draco Lucius Malfoy, out of all people, love him.
Maybe he can be strong enough to heal. Maybe he is capable of more than he gave himself credit for.