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Draco stared at Harry's sleeping face, a thoughtful look on his. The other boy was undoubtedly gorgeous, even in sleep, tousled locks of black hair falling around Harry's face, long inky lashes that framed green, green eyes and acre upon acre of wonderful golden skin. His lips were slightly parted, red and lush. Draco felt giddy with the knowledge that all this – all of Harry – was his, just as much as all of Draco was Harry's.
The blonde took in a deep breath (faint scent of sex and something sweet and spicy and deliciously Harry) and burrowed deeper into his lover's arms, pressing his face into Harry's shoulder. Something tender and poignant and achy rose in Draco, unsettling the blonde completely and leaving him oddly exposed and needy. He pressed a soft kiss to Harry's shoulder, choking on the inexplicable urge to cry.
Draco licked his lips, hands bringing Harry closer and wanting to just sink into the other boy. Every time the blonde was with Harry, he would always be strangely but deeply emotional. Draco was also constantly very scared of losing the other boy, whether to Voldemort or to Harry's friends or to time. And for the past few weeks, Draco felt even more frightened. If Harry noticed how Draco was clingier than usual (to the point of blowing up their careful cover) then he gave no indication.
Draco knew they were young, barely eighteen, and yet he was certain of his feelings for the Gryffindor. Harry insisted that he loved Draco as well, but they were still oh so young! There weren't any guarantees that their love would last through the years and the obvious hardships life was going to hurl at them.
So Draco was clingy. He was always following Harry with his eyes, the façade perfectly spewing vileness and hate while underneath it, all Draco wanted was to run into his lover's arms. The Slytherin was a possessive one, and he absolutely hated the mock-relationship Harry had with the Weaselette. Harry kept on reassuring Draco that it meant nothing to him (but meant everything to Ginny and Harry had this hero-complex) but Draco still wanted to kill the plebeian wench whenever she touched Harry and boasted that she was the girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived.
The one thing that kept Draco from throttling the other girl was the fact that she and Harry have never shagged. Ginny kept on using the excuse that Harry was just so noble for a quick fuck and he wanted it to be most special for both of them – maybe on their wedding night, Draco thought scathingly – but Draco knew the truth: Harry was just hopelessly in love with him. He thrilled whenever Harry touched him, innocent or passionate, because the other boy was the most incredible lover. But more than that, for a whispery thrill lanced through the blonde whenever and wherever they touched, and he felt truly connected, a part of Harry. Not just his lover, another being separated from the thing that completed him.
A whispery sigh escaped Draco and he pressed another kiss to Harry's shoulder. Then just beneath his jaw. Another one to the gently fluttering pulse point. As Draco slowly, loving peppered Harry with gentle, open-mouthed kisses, Draco felt his earlier fears, worries and apprehension melt away. He loved the smooth texture of Harry under his fingertips and he explored the other's neck and chest, all the while listening to the steady rhythm of Harry's heart.
In just a moment, Harry was stirring against him, woken up by the trail of kisses that worshipped him. Draco held his breath, knowing just how unbearably beautiful Harry was during these moments and he didn't want to miss a single thing. It was almost a ritual, something that Draco felt he wasn't worthy of, which was silly because it was only waking up.
Harry's black eyebrows furrowed just a tiny bit as something tickled his neck (lingering touch of a kiss) and his mouth twitched ever so slightly. The broad chest took in a much deeper breath as wakefulness nudged the sleeping boy. A fine tremor ran through Draco, a sharp anticipation, as Harry's red mouth completely curled in a sleepy, crooked and inviting smile Draco knew was just for him.
Movement pulled at Harry's limbs and he brought Draco closer, dropping a tender kiss on the top of that very blonde head. His eyes remained closed.
Draco lifted a hand and traced reverently each perfect feature, the digit pausing on the mouth as it parted and pressed in a warm caress.
"Open your eyes love," Draco murmured, his fingers moving to pass over the closed lids. "I want to see."
Harry's smile deepened and he gave another kiss to the tip of Draco's nose. Then his thick lashes quivered as the eyelids opened ever, ever so slowly.
Draco threaded his hand into the unruly silky jet, staring with wide-eyed intensity as his favorite spectacle played out before him.
The eyelids rose with aching slowness, but when they were finally open, Draco found himself releasing a deep breath and drowning in the deep pools of the greenest landscape. But though they were breathtakingly beautiful, it was the utter adoration shining in those eyes that captured Draco's soul and pulled out the bottom from beneath him, so that he had to cling to Harry or else he would just float away.
He knew and didn't care that his own eyes perfectly mirrored the emotion or that at one time or another he would have completely loathed Harry for laying him bare. But Draco just moved forward and the two boys just shared one wonderful kiss and clung to each other as they floated away.