Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I'm Leaving Without You)

chapter 19

Harry couldn't stop himself from watching Draco and measuring each movement, the way his mouth went tight, or when his breathing deepened. He watched as Draco picked up a box of books and winced, wavering where he stood as his knee almost gave out. Three weeks after the apothecary incident, it still hadn't quite healed. The Healers had assured them it would be fine in another couple of weeks, but for now Draco was supposed to be taking it easy. So far, he'd done no such thing.

"Careful, there," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Draco dropped the heavy box and it landed with a thud that shook the floor as he glared at Harry. "I'm not an invalid. I don't need you clucking over me like a mother hen."

"I'm not clucking," Harry said, shoving his armload of clothing atop a teetering stack of cardboard boxes. "You're supposed to be resting-"

"So you're my nursemaid, now?" Draco snapped.

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd just do what you're supposed to," Harry told him, his temper flaring. "I wanted to delay the move until after you're healed, if you recall."

"And if you'll recall, I said I'm fine," Draco said and scowled at him. "You needn't worry over me. It's bloody annoying."

Harry scowled right back. "Well if you didn't want me to worry over you, then you shouldn't have agreed to move in together!"

Draco kicked one of the many half-unpacked boxes out of his way, winced again, and stalked up to Harry. "I didn't ask for you to move in here. You just invited yourself in like some sort of vampire."

"That's not what-That's not even how vampires work!" Harry exclaimed, momentarily thrown off the course of their argument.

"Yes, well, when have you ever played by the rules?" Draco folded his arms over his chest and glared at him, silently daring Harry to deny it.

And Harry couldn't deny it, not really, because when had he ever played by the rules? Not at Hogwarts, not in the few months he'd been an Auror, and certainly not now. This wasn't how moving in with someone was supposed to go at all. He was supposed to meet someone nice, maybe be friends with him for a bit, then date him - proper dates, not just sex - and then sometime later when he thought he could fall in love, then they'd do this whole moving-in-together business.

It hit him then just how absurd, how truly absurd this was. This was Malfoy, whom he'd hated and who'd hated him in return for years, and no amount of brilliant sex could make up for that, could it? And Harry honestly didn't know what he'd expected when he'd suggested this, that they'd move in together and, what? Pick out china patterns together? Quibble good-naturedly over what colour to paint the dining room or the appropriate thread count for bed sheets? That wasn't who they were, and this... He looked around at the unsteady stacks of half-unpacked boxes, at the shabby bureau he'd bought second-hand sitting next to Malfoy's mahogany dressing table, at the rolled-up Chudley Cannons poster he knew Malfoy would never let him hang, and finally at himself in his worn tee-shirt and threadbare jeans and ratty trainers. He didn't know what this even was.

"You're right," he said, still looking down. "I'm sorry. You're absolutely right."

Malfoy drew up short at that. He'd been visibly gearing up for a fight, the explosive sort with lots of shouting and the throwing of breakables - weeks of desk duty had made his temper unusually volatile - and Harry had just taken away all his momentum.

"I'm right?" he repeated like he expected he'd misheard.

Harry nodded. "You're right. This isn't... I don't know what I was thinking. This is... This won't work. This absolutely won't work. I'm sorry."

"Excuse me?" Malfoy looked truly puzzled now.

Harry nodded again. "Yeah. Sorry. I'll just..."

He really had no idea what he'd been thinking. He loved Draco, but he wasn't sure that was enough. Ron and Hermione had been shocked when he'd told them what was going on. Draco's parents were in an uproar and Pansy Parkinson was still refusing to talk to him. They all saw how insane this was, why hadn't he figured it out sooner? Sighing, Harry picked up a shirt and put it in the nearest box, picked up second shirt and began to fold that one too. Malfoy put himself between Harry and the box.

"You're leaving?" he asked sharply.

Harry couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm sorry."

"For fuck's sake, Potter," he spat. "Will you quit apologizing? You haven't even done anything."

"Sorry," he said before he could stop himself, then, "Sorry, I... Fuck." The shirt fell from his fingers, and he stared helplessly at it crumpled up on the floor at his feet. "I really don't know what I'm doing."

Malfoy exhaled slowly and sat down on the bed, and pulled Harry down to sit beside him. Harry leaned in close and pressed his face to Malfoy's neck. Malfoy draped one arm over his lap, one hand curled over his hip, and his other hand rubbed up and down Harry's spine in slow, soothing strokes.

"I don't really know what I'm doing either." Malfoy admitted with a little sigh. "This probably won't work out."

"That's what I said." Harry sounded defeated even to his own ears. He hadn't realised until that moment how much he was hoping Malfoy would try to convince him to stay.

"No, you said it absolutely won't. I'm saying it probably won't," Draco corrected, then hesitated. "And since you're here and all of your things are here, I think it'd be best to find out for sure. I mean, before you go through the trouble of moving it all out again. That makes sense, right?"

"I suppose," Harry said, relaxing against Draco. He sighed. "We're going to fight all the time, aren't we?"

"I prefer to look at it as we'll be creating lots of opportunities for make-up sex."

Harry chuckled and nudged his elbow against Draco's ribs. "Draco, I'm serious."

"So am I," Draco said, and his hand rubbed up and down Harry's back, up and down. "We probably will fight, but we wouldn't be us if we didn't. And we'll get through it." He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, right over the scar. "We'll get through anything."