𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

Chapter 4

      Kieran was right. Harry was tempted to tell.

      It was absolutely insane--it was beyond insane--because they'd just made love, as they'd done nearly every night for so many nights, and Draco was nestled to Harry's charm-cleaned chest, breathing peacefully.

      Draco liked to talk now, after sex. He liked to talk in murmurs that sounded more and more like the ones he used to use--not just after, but before. And in the mornings. And on Saturday afternoons. And anytime, really, because that's what Draco had liked to do. Harry had missed it so badly.

      He wasn't missing it, anymore.

      "Sometimes," Draco murmured quietly, "I still don't get it."

      Harry shifted as Draco adjusted his cheek.

      "Get what?"

      "Why you're still here," Draco answered softly. "You never told me. That night."

      Harry's hand flexed over Draco's bare arm, lovingly. Possessively.

      "You know why."

      Draco lay still against him. Then he shrugged a little, with his upturned shoulder. "You're Harry fucking Potter."

      Harry tilted his chin down quickly to see the edge of Draco's mouth curve up slightly. "I don't think anyone else could've--would've--come home every night to...to me. Not while I was...after the war and everything." He slid one arm under Harry's neck and tightened the other across Harry's torso. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

      Draco's body closed around him warmly. "Harry," he whispered, and Harry heard thank you. For not leaving that night, or any other night. Even though Draco never said such things, not aloud.

      Harry felt the truth, lodged in his chest, being squeezed out, but he held it in and held his tongue, because Draco was holding him.

***

      "Mmm, love you," Draco murmured sleepily. He'd rolled onto his back again, eyes drifting shut already.

      Harry's breathing had only started to slow. He grinned as Draco kicked aside the sheet--too hot--then lay there, limply.

      He groped for his wand, found it, and waved it over them both with a charm. The blond didn't move a muscle.

      Harry returned his wand to the bedside stand, then propped himself up on an elbow to gaze down at his lover. He reached out and passed a gentle palm over the pale torso as it rose and fell in languid rhythm. Draco was asleep, but Harry didn't worry about waking him anymore.

      Draco stirred. Harry continued stroking him.

      "S'nice," Draco mumbled, sliding closer. "Always so nice...to me."

      Harry's smile faded as Draco, eyes still closed, stretched out to be stroked a little more to the right.

***

      "What...?" Harry laughed, putting his arms in the air in front of him. "Draco, what are you doing?"

      Draco had one hand pressed firmly over Harry's eyes. He steered Harry carefully through the kitchen, into the formal dining room. "Just a second...almost there..." His grip on Harry's shoulder tightened as he brought Harry to a stop. "Okay, now."

      The weight of Draco's palm disappeared and Harry flashed his eyes open wide.

      Then wider, as he took in the scene before him.