Why? - a Drarry Fanfic

Chapter 19

Draco

I closed the door, looking at Harry, who was now sitting on his bed. "Why did you do this?!" I say immediately. He looked down, I think he felt ashamed, and I felt guilty. "'M sorry, Dray. I just needed to be alone."

"Harry, you aren't allowed to be alone anymore." I say softer than before as I sit in front of him. "How do you think I felt when I came back, to see Hermione crying, slamming on your door, Ron desperately trying to think of a spell that would unlock our door?" He hugs a pillow close to his chest. "Harry, love, I thought I lost you."

"Dray, I was fine! All I wanted to do was take a nap until you got back, without every single bloody person hovering over me!" 

I moved so I was sitting against the headboard, next to Harry. I wrap an arm around his should, pulling him in close. "Harry. You don't get to do that yet. You know why. It's been a month, maybe we could talk about loosening the restrictions?" I say softly. I feel him nod into my shoulder, before he lays down and puts his head in my lap. "Was 'Mione really crying?"

I nod. "Yes, Harry, she was. She just wants you to be safe, to be happy, loved." I feel him turn so he's facing me. "I know she does. And I love how you all care, sometimes it's just to much."

We sit in silence until I hear him mutter something like 'Astronomy Tower'. "What?"

"I'm glad you found me, you know. I'm glad I'm still here right now."

It melts my heart.

"Harry, did you ever try counseling for the abuse? Like, specifically for the abuse?" I say. He shakes his head. "I don't want to. I just want to forget about it, everything." He says, wrapping my hoodie, the one he likes to steal, tighter around himself. "You should though. You've never really talked about it, except for when I asked you. Even then, I could tell you hated it."

"I did. I really did. I hate him... I hate them, so fucking much it hurts." Harry says as I tangle my fingers in his beautiful, raven curls. "Then talk about it. Forgive, don't forget, Harry. Believe me, it works."

"How?"

"I forgave my father for leading me to Voldemort. I forgave him for what he did to me, I forgave him for selling my body to death eaters. I haven't forgotten. I never will. But, if you forgive, you won't have that ball of hate in you chest anymore." I say. I take one of my hands and hold his, continuing to mess with his soft, smooth hair.

"Do you really think it's going to help?"

"What? Counseling, or forgiving?"

"Both."

I smile. "I really do. Counseling helped me. I went in secret after my father got arrested the first time. It helped, they helped me to forgive. If you really don't want to go to counseling, that's okay. Just talk to someone. Anyone. Hell, go talk to an owl. Get it off your chest."

"I have Phoebe. I'll be fine. I just... I don't want another person examining my brain for an hour."

I feel him move, so I let my hands fall from his hair. He moves to a sitting position, straddling my legs. I look into his eyes as we sit in silence, the gorgeous, emerald orbs pulling me in a trance. Small specks of blue and brown close to his pupil, making them more enticing. I slowly look down at his pink, chapped lips. 

Slowly, carefully, I lean in closer, Harry doing the same. I close my eyes as I feel his lips on my own. I bring my hand to his cheek, caressing it lightly, the other resting on his waist. I feel his arms on my shoulders, resting.

Time doesn't stop. There's no music, no fireworks, no clapping crowds. Just us. Us and only us. 

I don't know how long it lasted, and I don't care. We both lean back after a long while, and Harry has this adorable boyish smirk on his face. "That was... wow..." He whispers. I smile at him and pull him in closer if possible. "Want to try that again?"