How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Forty-Seven: Young Love

            Harry rushed into their bedroom so suddenly Draco didn't have time to hide his bloody button-down or put on another shirt. "What happened?" Harry yelled as he raced over to Draco's side, taking the other man's face in his hands and turning it this way and that.

Draco stood there and let Harry examine him. He'd gotten all the blood off his face already, and thank the gods for that. Harry was already frantic about his bloody shirt. "I'm alright, Harry," Draco whispered, grabbing Harry's hands and pulling them away from his face. "I'm okay."

"But, your shirt?!"

Draco shook his head. "A minor hiccup. Everything is okay. Now tell me what happened when they took you for testing."

Harry, determined to keep a hold on Draco, sat down on the bed's edge, pulling Draco along with him. Draco relaxed into his arms, reveling in the warmth Harry provided. "We went to the dungeon, and I had a cleansing performed on me. Of course, they found nothing. Now, what happened to you, and why is your shirt covered in blood."

"I tripped and fell," Draco answered automatically.

"Draco," Harry growled.

"Sorry, sorry. One of the Auror's broke my nose. Again. It seems to be a popular target these days," Draco joked, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

"They did what!?"

"Shh," Draco soothed. "It's all over now. McGonagall gave me veritaserum, and I answered all their questions. They know I haven't done anything to you."

Harry relaxed slightly. "Good. I'm already tired of this shit."

Draco pulled out of Harry's grasp and turned to stand between Harry's legs. He ran his hands through the other man's unruly hair, chuckling slightly as it stood straight up. "You know this isn't the end, right? Are you sure you aren't going to get too tired to keep on going?"

Harry froze. "Why would you ask that?"

Draco frowned. "How could I not think about it when I'm dragging you down with every breath we take together?"

Anger flashed in Harry's eyes, and Draco involuntarily took a step back. "You aren't dragging me down, Draco. This," Harry reached over and grabbed Draco's left arm and turned it, so the Dark Mark was visible, "means nothing."

Draco watched in horror as Harry lowered his head and laid a kiss on the center of the skull. He tried to yank his arm back, but Harry held firm.

"This is nothing." He laid a kiss on the serpent. "This is just a scar you've gotten past." He kissed the snake's head.

Draco shivered. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true, and there's nothing you can say or do that will make me believe otherwise. You are not dragging me down; if anything, you are constantly lifting me up." Harry stood and grabbed Draco's face none too gently and yanked it down so he could press his lips angrily against the blond man's. It was a bruising, demanding kiss before Draco opened his mouth, and Harry slipped inside, all anger lost.

It wasn't long before they were pulling at each other's clothing and tumbling onto the closest bed, very much young and in love.

The next morning they woke up in a tangle of limbs. "Where are my boxers?" Draco mumbled.

"Dunno. Where are mine?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and turned back to Draco.

"I love you, darling," drawled Draco, a smile on his face.

"I love you too, babe," Harry replied, smiling just as wide. For this moment, everything was as it should be.