𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?

Part IX

Part 9: Blow

Nothing really matters,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters, nothing really matters to me,

Any way the wind blows....

"Bohemian Rapsody", Queen

Draco was on the terrace again. When they had returned from the award, Harry had gone to change his clothes and, when he went looking for his lover, he found the glass door of the living room open and the cold wind blowing sharply through it. He shivered, but went out nevertheless.

Draco was leaning against the railing, smoking and looking down at the city's lights.

Harry stood still for a while, observing how that pale shape cut the night, how the few light shone on his hair, tousled by the wind.

"Draco?"

The Slytherin turned around to stare at the other wizard.  Harry looked at him, while he took a drag from his cigarette, his pale lips slightly closing on the filter. The smoke was quickly carried away by the wind.

And suddenly few words came out.

"Did you mean it?"

Draco pondered Harry's question for a while. Then, he answered the only way he could, the only way he would allow himself to answer.

"Of course I didn't."

Both men looked each other for a while, both believing the words. The lie. Because it was easier.

"Of course you didn't," Harry agreed softly, even if he didn't feel like doing so. He had unconsciously hoped, just for a few moments, that Draco wasn't such a good actor, "But you did a good work."

"Do you think?" Draco said, turning again towards the railing. Harry reached him.

"Yeah, I do," Harry said.

"Well, I'm paid for it," the blond stated, almost sadly, but Harry didn't notice, 'cause the wind made those words disappear a little too quickly.

Draco finished his cigarette and turned to face his rival, who was standing at his side for a while, studying him, trying to understand what was that feeling growing painfully inside his chest.

Stop it.

And it stopped, allowing Draco to smirk. Harry looked at him interrogatively.

"And for this," the Slytherin added, coming closer to Harry, touching his cheek with a cold finger.

Harry shivered and Draco moved even closer. When their bodies were flushed together, he placed his lips on the Gryffindor's neck, trailing warm kisses on the cold skin.

Harry quivered again and unconsciously raked his fingers through Draco's hair. The blond continued to grace Harry’s neck with languid kisses. Each touch of his lips was soft and intimate, showing its own form of adoration.  Suddenly, he stopped.

The Harry’s fingers kept moving lazily through his hair. Draco looked up and the two locked gazes.

A moment or an eternity. Then, it happened.