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“I didn't know you were a religious man, Potter.“ Draco Malfoy said when Harry Potter sat down next to him. Out of the vast emptiness of seats they were surrounded by, he chose to fill the vacant seat next to his former enemy.
“I’m not,” he responded.
“Is that so?”, Draco murmured.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Harry fiddle with the booklet in his hands. “Then why are you here?” Harry, for a moment, looked like he was going to say something, but the priest entered the room, and a general hush fell over the room.
The candles were lit one after one, filling the room with the presence of holiness itself. The priest’s voice carried the ancient Latin words through the chapel. The murmured responses of the congregation rose and fell around the room. Throughout the ceremony, most eyes were focused on the priest speaking in front.
At most times, Harry looked to his left, staring at Draco, who was focused so innately on the words, words that Harry did not bother to listen to. He was much more interested in the soft-spoken words and whispered prayers Draco kept muttering. He kept waiting for Draco to return the glances, waiting for a taunting look or a raised eyebrow, even a slight shift in posture but Draco did nothing of that matter. Instead, he was tracing the text with his long fingers, like it were a spell to be figured out.
Draco was not unaware, not at all; in fact, he was properly nervous, flexing the hand Harry could not see. One look and he knew his composure would come crashing down. All the suppressed emotions, all the hopeless prayers he used to whisper in the darkness.
As the ceremony came to an end, and everyone left, they were alone. “What are you doing here?” Draco asked once again, glancing forward instead of into the expectant green eyes that he knew were watching his every move. “You know why I am here,” Harry answered. “Don’t.” Draco looked at him suddenly. Then, he stood up, walked past all the empty row to lit a candle.
“I am sorry for walking out on you that day. I was stupid and dumb and blind. Only an idiot would have walked out on you, okay.” Harry quickly stood up and followed Draco.
“I was scared and a coward” Harry admitted. Draco laughed at that. “How do I know you have changed?” he asked, grey eyes full of suspicion.
Draco’s question hung in the chapel air long after he spoke it. The candles whispered and crackled now and then, tiny sparks swallowed by the endless space around them. Harry stood a step behind, close enough that Draco could feel his warmth without turning.
“How can I know you’ve changed?” Draco repeated, softer this time. “I don’t know if I can give you a chance.”
Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again. He watched Draco drift away, stepping toward the candle stand along the worn stone floor.
The stand held dozens of flames, little constellations set in neat rows. Draco stopped there, his back straight, the glow outlining him in a stiff, careful silhouette. He looked like someone trying to stuff his feelings back into the tight box he always kept them in.
Harry followed. His steps sounded loud in the hush, Draco didn’t turn.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Harry said to Draco’s back, rough and unpolished. “That day-I didn’t even know what I was feeling. And I did the worst thing I could have done. I ran.”
Draco’s shoulders rose and fell in a slow, measured rhythm. Too slow. He was holding his breath.
Harry stepped closer again. The candles lit half of Draco’s face now, just enough to catch the line of his jaw, tense and tight.
“I know,” Draco said softly, though forgiveness wasn’t there yet. Just recognition.
Harry wet his lips, hands twitching uselessly at his sides. “I’m trying to tell you what I couldn’t that day.” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”
Draco snorted, a laugh without amusement. “You say that like it’s something new.”
Harry winced. “I’m not asking you to make this easy.”
Draco turned to him, slow and deliberate, as if it cost him something. His eyes looked almost silver in the candlelight. “Good,” he said. “Because it won’t be easy.”
Harry fixed his gaze there, though he broke it first.
They stood too close now. Close enough that Harry could see the tremor in Draco’s hands. Close enough that Draco noticed the eye contact and tucked that trembling hand behind his back, hiding it.
“Draco-” Harry began softly.
“Don’t,” Draco said too quickly, more defensive than he meant. Harry heard the regret after.
Harry swallowed again. He couldn’t stop. “I’m here because of you,” he said. “Because I keep replaying everything you said. Every word. Every look. Every time I almost spoke and didn’t.”
Draco eyed the candle he’d lit earlier. “You can’t come here and say things like that.”
“Why not?” Harry whispered.
“Because I might believe you.”
Harry’s breath faltered again.
Draco flexed the fingers of his hidden hand, staring into the flame as if it might give him courage or the right words to keep Harry at bay. It didn’t.
“I want you to believe me.”
Draco’s throat bobbed. “And if I do? Then what happens when you walk out again?”
Harry stepped closer, slowly and on purpose. “Tie me to the altar then.”
Draco reacted with enough surprise to look almost ready to laugh or cry or shove him away. He just stood there, eyes steady, quiet.
“You still say the stupidest things,” Draco murmured.
“I know,” Harry replied. “Sometimes it’s the only way I can talk.”
Silence settled back in. Draco’s posture loosened a fraction. Harry always saw Draco clearly, even when he didn’t understand it.
Harry reached out, hesitating, not touching. His fingers hovered between them.
“Draco,” he said softly, “I’m not leaving again. Not unless you tell me to.”
Draco’s eyes tracked the motion of that waiting hand. He lifted his own slightly, not to take Harry’s, but to show restraint. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I can keep this one.”
“How do you know?”
“Because walking away hurt more than staying ever could.”
That truth settled between them, warm and steady as the candles.
Draco exhaled, relief finally slipping through. “You should have said that then.”
“I didn’t know how,” Harry whispered.
“Do you now?”
Harry nodded. “I do.”
For a moment, they didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then Draco spoke, softer than a prayer, “Show me.”
Harry stepped closer. A heartbeat, then another. Draco had to tilt his chin up to meet his eyes. The shimmer of uncertainty lingered in his expression. “I’m not great at this,” Harry admitted.
“I know,” Draco answered.
Harry laughed softly, a wavering thing. “Is that your answer to everything?”
Probably.
“Then tell me what to do.”
Draco’s breath caught in a tiny, almost invisible way. But Harry saw it. “Just don’t be an idiot,” Draco whispered. “Too late for that,” Harry replied.
Draco gave a small nod, conceding.
Another candle flickered wildly, casting a warm halo around Draco as he finally rested his hand against Harry’s jaw. The touch was careful, a little cold, perhaps from nerves or the chapel air. Harry closed his eyes just a touch, savoring the contact without losing the moment.
“You’re shaking,” Draco murmured.
“So are you.”
“Not as much,” Draco insisted out of habit.
Harry smiled faintly. “Of course you’d keep score.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Someone has to.”
They leaned closer until their breaths mingled, and Draco chose not to step back.
“Harry,” Draco said, low and unsure, but not unwilling.
“Yes?”
“I’m not going to be the one who breaks first.”
Harry’s answer was a tremulous smile. “You don’t have to.”
With that, he crept closer still. Draco stiffened at first, then relaxed enough to kiss him, soft, deliberate, almost shy. Draco’s grip on his jaw tightened just a touch, steadying him. Harry leaned into it, gripping the edge of the wooden stand for a steadier anchor.
The chapel stayed hushed and quiet, save for the crackle of the candles as the light lit up the space between them. More and more candles started flickering and when they finally parted, Draco kept his eyes closed, breathing slow. Harry did not dare to move.
“Okay?” he whispered, after a while.
“Okay.” Draco answered. And with that they left the church and walked out into the night, hand in hand.