Cut From the Sky

Chapter 18: Mitternachtssnack

Floating high above their heads, the spherical bulbs of the streetlights shimmered with wisps of pink light, glinting over rain-slick cobblestones. Draco hadn't cast a thing and Harry was drenched down to his very bones as they followed the path of the winding river towards Draco's home. Draco's hand in his was warm, wet like the rest of the world, and the centre of the bulk of Harry's attention.

"Harry," Draco said into the rain once they were almost at the house and waited until Harry looked at him. The handle of his umbrella was hooked over his arm. With every step, it knocked against his knee.

"Draco," Harry replied because it was a beautiful thing to say.

"You should know, I'm not sleeping with you tonight. I'm not." In Draco's neighbourhood, the street lamps were sparser, stretching over the street in a modern, elegant arch. They cast a dim yellow glow. Abruptly, Draco's palms landed flat on Harry's chest, and he nudged him with his back against the street lamp. "I'm really not," he reiterated, as if Harry had doubted or challenged this resolve. Harry pushed his hands into Draco's hair. Straightened by the rain, it was long enough for Harry to tuck strands of it behind his ear. When he dropped his hand, Draco caught it, kissed his fingers. "I'm really not. Even though you're..."

"Even though I'm what?"

Draco dropped his forehead against his. Far from the pink wash of the street lights in the magical district, the blush had never quite left his cheeks. "You. Even though you're you."

Maybe Draco really had wanted him at Hogwarts. The thought knocked insistently against the back of Harry's knees, turning them useless and weak. He was grateful for the towering metal of the lamp against his back.

"I'm not here for sex," Harry said, kissing the rain running from Draco's temples.

"No?"

"No." Harry shook his head and ran his palms down the leather over Draco's shoulders, the length of his arms. "I just don't want the day to end yet."

Draco cocked his head. "You've gone odd," he noted, not for the first time but for the first time this go around. With his thumbs to Harry's eyebrows, he slowly traced the line of hair, then pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek. "And this isn't – it's not the last time I'll see you. Is it? Sunday's only a few days away." He sounded uncertain, his cheek against Harry's, his face so close but out of sight.

Harry swallowed thickly. Wrapping his arms firmly around Draco's waist, he buried his face in the crook of his neck, into the sodden fabric of his shirt. "It's not the last time," he said, and it wouldn't be. After all, there were some rainy November 2nds yet to come.

***

To Harry's great relief, Emerence was nowhere to be seen. He'd spent the morning basking in her compliments, in the comfort that he really was good at something, and didn't fancy having to pretend he was surprised to see her here. Peering into the Emerence-free kitchen, Draco sent a quick drying charm over his umbrella, then placed it on a hook by the door.

"May I?" he asked and Harry nodded and the only thing more luxurious than Draco's charm flooding Harry's body was having Draco's hungry eyes on him as he performed the spell.

"Good god, your magic," Harry sighed, dropping his weight bodily against the wall.

Draco smirked and fluttered his fingers, before pushing one hand into his perfectly neat and tousled hair. "Leaves my hair looking a right mess though. I can never get it right." He pulled on a stran qd falling to his forehead, squinting upwards.

Harry didn't say that Draco didn't remotely look a mess. That, in fact, he looked mind-numbingly, devastatingly beautiful. It was all a bit much, perhaps. "Your housemate's not home?" he asked instead.