Cabin Fever (dm.hp)

T W E L V E

☽ ☽ ☽

Harry felt incredibly awkward and anxious the next day. He had awakened at the crack of dawn, unable to relax completely after receiving Dumbledore's letter. Draco however, slept until noon. Not wanting to be apart from him for even a moment, Harry stayed in bed, trying to memorize the way his soft breathing sounded. The way his blonde hair tickled his neck. The way his soft hand felt against his chest. The curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the shadows casted by his long lashes.

"Good morning." Harry whispered into Draco's hair when he started to wake up.

"Morning." The blonde sighed. He made the most adorable noises as he stretched his limbs. Somehow that broke Harry's heart even more. Everything he loved about Draco made him ache with the feeling of loss, knowing that in a handful of hours everything would change. They may never hold each other again.

"I was getting worried, you were looking a bit comatose for a while there." Harry tried to lighten his own mood with humour.

"Shut up, I'm tired." Draco yawned as if to prove his point. "It's not my fault you're so comfortable." He poked Harry's stomach, which had in fact gotten a bit soft over the months. After all, there was no Quidditch to keep him in shape.

"Hey now, play nice." Harry gently tipped Draco's head up and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"I don't want to move." Draco groaned, burying himself deeper into the blankets.

"Then don't. I'll bring you something to eat." Harry kissed him once more before maneuvering out of the tangle of blankets and limbs. Draco smiled at him and closed his eyes.

Harry nearly collapsed halfway down the stairs. He gripped the railing, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that seemed to rip at his throat. He was scared. He was scared to leave Draco, scared to see what Dumbledore had in store for him, scared of the inevitable war his world faced. The cabin that once felt like a prison was now his own personal oasis in a desert of death and despair.

He somehow made it to the kitchen, grabbed a variety of fruit and made Draco some toast. Buttered, with cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on top. Just the way he liked it.

"Hey, sleepyhead. You should eat." Harry set the plate on the nightstand and gave Draco a gentle shake.

"Bring it here." Draco's hand appeared from his nest of blankets and patted the space beside him. Harry complied, sitting beside the lump that was Draco and resting the plate on his thighs.

"You have to come out, I'm not feeding you in there."

"Ugh, fine." Draco threw back the covers, glaring disdainfully at Harry. His hair was sticking in all directions, staticky from the friction. He shuffled his way into a half sitting, half laying position and picked up a piece of toast.

Harry let Draco eat in silence, an arm around his shoulder. He admired the fair skinned boy, trying his best to not seem creepy. Most people didn't watch others eat with fascination.