[art credit: dracontessa|deviantart]

Draco was gripping Potter tighter than either of them thought he ought to be, but no one stopped him. They were flying over the burning Room of Requirement and he had just seen one his best friends fall to their deaths. He was shielding his face in Potter's shoulder before he had even realized what was going on then tightening his grip again.

He sat up in his bed sobbing and scratching at his arms so hard he was sure he was bleeding, but they still itched like the tips of the flames were still lapping at him. Wanting to swallow him up whole like they swallowed Crabbe. He couldn't breathe. It was like the smoke was trying to smother him. He threw his blankets off and began a pace around his room.

Hours later when the sun has just started to rise, he will be hunched over a desk, writing a bloody thank you letter to Potter, because maybe then the crushing guilt with finally just stop.

***

Days later when an owl is plucking at his hair because he's forgotten to close the window before he's gone to bed, he gets a letter from Potter. It's just as grateful for not giving them up at the manor. Even more grateful to his mother for lying to the Dark Lord in the forest and he isn't quite sure how to feel about it. He starts on a new letter without even realizing it.

They keep at it. He wouldn't call them friends, but it's been almost a year since his trials, year and a half since the fire and he still wakes up with nightmares, but they've built a sort of acquaintance. They write letters and spill secrets and they even floo sometimes, but calling them friends feels like it would erase everything else they've ever been to each other and they haven't learned a word to encompass all of that either.

So currently, they're pen pals. In the Prophet, they're cohorts. When Pansy floos over, they're just exchanging pleasantries. And when Mother catches him clutching a letter to his chest like a lifeline, she calls them soulmates. Draco doesn't know which would be more correct.

***

When Potter invites him over for the first time he doesn't know what to expect.

They have tea and they talk and Potter who has somehow now become Harry, gives him a tour of his shoddy little flat in Marylebone. They kiss on the balcony.

They aren't dating. At least not yet, but he's at Harry's enough to have his own side of the closet and a toothbrush in the bathroom and he thinks he wants to tell him he loves him, even if he isn't quite sure what that means in a way that isn't directed at his mother or Pansy and Blaise and Goyle.

***

Draco's staying over when he has the dream again. It's been years since it's happened, but it still shakes him to his core.

The room is burning and everything is on fire and Crabbe had just fallen and his breathing is getting harsher and harsher.

Harry grips him tighter. Kisses his cheek. His eyes fly open and he sucks in a breath of air. There is no fire. There is no broom.

"You're safe," says Harry, voice soft. Draco sinks back into him, because Harry's arms have always felt like home.

-&-

hey futher muckers

s'been a bit, yeah?
i have ideas for drarry fics, but i kinda want them to be longer and more in depth than what i usually do so those drafts are taking a fair bit longer because im trying to up my quality

however i hope you enjoy this lil bit of roughness lol
ive been looking at the first three paragraphs for literal months with no idea of what to do about it

am i super proud of this? no
am i proud to put something out? yes

hope you lot enjoyed either way
love y'all

-- angel janeé xoxo 💋