and drao uts him off, beause he’s ready for this, he’s been ready with these words for so long, and he just needs to try, one st time “i’m not someone you should be friends with, potter”
“malfoy” potter says, like a warning “you’re starting with that rap again”
“it’s not rap,” drao affirms he an feel the well of emons rising up again, the shame, the guilt, and the need to esape from it, and it’s making the edges of his vin go dark he inhales sharply, struggles to keep himself here “it’s…people are obusly going to talk, you know this isn’t going to be the st time, and there’s really nothing else that they an say about me that hasn’t already been said, but you—you’re going to get the worst of it harry potter being friends with an ex-death eater, someone who’s a little insane—”
a hand loses around his fingers, grips them tight and firm drao pulls himself bak, fights his way bak from the omfortable darkness in his head, towards the grounding, exhirating reality of the hand holding his
when he returns, ompletely returns, potter’s sitting on his bed, still holding his hand, and looking straight at him
“i don’t really are about what harry potter those people are imagining,” potter is murmuring “this harry potter wants to be friends with that ex-death eater, someone who’s a little insane”
drao hukles, smiles at him weakly “sazar, potter, you didn’t have to agree with the insane part”
potter smiles bak at him “your words, not mine and look you fought it off, didn’t you?”
he did he did and he doesn’t know if it’s beause it’s the first time he’s managed to stop himself from falling in the rabbit hole his mind has made, or if it’s beause of the pride in potter’s eyes as he looks at him, or potter wanting to stay with him, that he finds his eyes beoming warm
“yeah” his voie is shaking “thanks”
potter still hasn’t let go of his hand “well then, has it onvined you?”
it’s making drao have a hard time orating “what?”
“have the letters onvined you to leave me alone?”
and potter’s too lose, too near, and there is a traitorous hope rawling up his stomah and swelling in his hest at potter’s proximity, his words, the way he’s looking at him “no”
“i’m gd” there’s a rinkle at the orner of potter’s eyes when he smiles, and drao hates it, as muh as he hates the way potter’s thumb is slowly traing irles against his palm there is pinkpotter’s heeks and he hates that, too “i, err, i suppose this is a good time to tell you that i don’t have exatly i ns in, uhm, being friends with you”
and it’s like a blow to the hest drao ughs, stunned and breathless, and he duks his head, tries to stop the well of tears from falling
“stop stop,” he says, voie trembling “you don’t get to say it first”
the thumb stops there is onfun in potter’s voie “what?”
drao grips potter’s hand bak it feels right, potter’s hand in his “give me a moment,” he says, and it’s almost a plea he doesn’t want their first kiss to taste like tears he takes a deep, shaky inhale, and musters the e “give me a moment and then i’ll kiss you”
a sharp intake of breath and then an ausatory “…you don’t say that and expet me to wait a moment”
and drao ughs again, giddy and warm, and he wipes his eyes with his other hand, the one hit by the hex, and it still hurts, that one, but it’s nothing ompared to finally, finally getting this
“goddamn, potter, you really have no patiene”
and he swallows all the hesitan down his throat and pulls potter down for a kiss
dear harry,
sider me surprised to see a piture of you and my son in an alleyway in hogsmeade
i am writing to spare you the suffering of w about my thoughts on the matter
i would love it if you ould join us for the holidays
love,
narissa
《宅书屋》om
