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The floor was grimy, but his heart was held soft. The ceilings held nothing but darkness beyond, but his arms were full of soft, pale skin. He couldn’t help but caress the man in his arms. He looked so tender and warm under the balmy light, the last thing Harry expected from the boy he’d been with for years—the boy who only spat insults and riled him up at Quidditch.
But this boy was turned inside out, his spleen and intestines clean of all the filth his father had filled him up with. He was clean as a whistle, innocent like the daisies Hermione picked for Ron. Harry leaned down quietly and placed a chaste kiss upon the blonde man’s lips. A small sound escaped Malfoy’s lips, and Harry quickly pulled back so as not to wake him.
Harry had been locked up for 60 days now in the basement of Malfoy Manor. On the 20th day, Harry had given up; the wizarding world could figure out for themselves how to handle Voldemort’s wrath. On the 25th day, Draco had finally talked to him, and by the 40th day, the quiet whispers had turned into urgent kisses. Neither boy was surprised—it seemed they had been building this tension for years. Hadn’t Harry followed Draco like a maniac in sixth year? No, it wasn’t a surprise.
On the 50th day, Draco had told him, “I think I knew you in another life.” Harry had said nothing back, only looked at him, remembering something Hermione had said in fifth year about souls meeting in the heavens before birth.
On the 51st day, Harry had asked him, “Would you look back for me, even if it meant losing me?”
Draco didn’t reply.
On the 55th day, Draco thought of an escape.
On the 59th day, Draco packed the small pile of Harry’s belongings. When Harry asked him about his own belongings, Draco said he would do it later.
On the 60th day, Draco woke up with a naked body pressed against his lover, called Dobby to disapparate the man in his arms.
On the 61st day, he climbed the great stairs of the Manor and fell at the knees of the man with no nose. The Dark Lord’s lips curled. “You’re brave for a coward’s son. Walk away, but don’t look back.”
Draco nodded at the green light and turned away.
The world grew light, and the Manor out of sight. The weight of everything settled into his chest as the silence grew deafening. Somewhere in the distance, a man’s voice whispered softly for him to come back.
“Did you look back, Draco?” The man whispered.
Draco closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Always.”