I'm swear I'm a serious writer with an actual life and things to do oh wait haha

It's too late for my shit™

Draco sits up from the floor where he's been lying for the past hour, slowly putting back on his clothes.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?"

Draco scoffs and stretches, standing up fully and extending a hand for Harry to take.

Harry grasps it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

"What? Hmm?
You got something on your mind?"

Draco sighs but doesn't meet his eyes.

"My mother. She.. knows."

Harry looks up. Knows? About them? He stumbles around blearily, looking for his glasses before Draco stops him with a hand, placing them firmly on his nose.

Harry can't help a slight smile. "What does she know exactly?"

"That we have hot, passionate sex multiple times a week."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Be serious."

Draco shuffles his feet, picking at the sleeve of his robe. Harry lays a hand on his arm. He always does that with his robe when he's particularly nervous. He tries to cover up his Dark Mark as though someone is looking.

"Me. This. Us. She knows it all."

Harry stops. Us. Them. What are they? It was a question they'd been avoiding for months.

Harry slowly takes Draco's hand and leads him over to the couch that appeared earlier in the room of requirement. They didn't make it quite that far. They rarely do.

"This explains why you were so.. angry earlier," Harry says unhelpfully.

He hadn't actually thought much about it. Angry Draco was pretty much like normal Draco. Except he kissed harder. That made thinking about the reasons he was angry slightly more difficult.

"Potter." Draco pulls at his hair, sighing exasperatedly, "What am I gonna do?"

Harry isn't sure what the protocol should be. He and Draco aren't exactly dating or anything.. but he... he cares for him.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asks.

Draco looks down at his hands.

He seems to be weighing his options, thinking about if embarrassing himself is worth asking. what he wants.

'I want you to hold me. Tell me everything's gonna be alright.'

He doesn't actually say this.

Instead he meets Harry's eyes. It's enough. Harry knows every expression Malfoy makes like the back of his own hand. This one shows complete trust, he's open, afraid, terrified.
It's not the first time Harry's seen the softer side of Draco Malfoy, that was when they'd just started whatever this was and Malfoy admitted he didn't want it to stop. Harry carefully scoots closer and wraps his arms around Draco like he's something fragile. He's trembling.

"There's more," Draco whispers against Harry's chest, turning his head so he can listen to the rhythm of his heart beat.

Harry waits.

"She says that if I... she says that if I don't tell my father, she will."

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Draco's hair smells like the shampoo he uses. Apple and cinnamon. It's intoxicating. If this is what it means to be whatever he is with Draco, it's worth it.

"When?" Harry asks, keeping at the same low volume.

"At dinner."

Harry holds him tighter, he can feel the Earth shattering. Their carefully hidden world could come to an abrupt stop tonight.