𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐀

Chapter 19

Ding dong merrily on high,

In heav'n the bells are ringing:

Ding dong! verily the sky

Is riv'n with angel singing.

Gloria, Hosanna in excelsis!

"Ding Dong Merrily on High", George Ratcliffe Woodward

Usually, Draco was a person who could sleep all day if he was allowed to. So naturally, when he woke up one hour before he had to get up, he would fall asleep again. But this time, it was different.

Draco had woken up to the warmth of another person embracing him and a soft breath against his face. At first he had just pushed himself even closer, feeling arms tighten around him and the body under his hands pull him closer.

But of course moments like this did not last forever, and he had opened his eyes to find Potter's sleeping face only inches away from his. He froze and just stared with wide eyes, but soon realized that it made no difference, Potter was still there.

He remembered last night, how he felt as if he would fall apart if Potter hadn't held him together, and how lost and devastated he was when Potter started to pull away. He needed him. Longed for his touch, ached for his attention. And that's why he swallowed his pride and begged for Potter to keep holding him, because he didn't know if he could cope without him there.

And when he had looked so softly at him with those green eyes and said that he wouldn't let him go, Draco had felt warmth rush through his body. Potter would stay with him.

With a loud sigh Draco closed his eyes and tried to shut Potter out and think rationally, but it was impossible with him breathing on Draco and his body so close to Draco. With a sigh he gave up and decided to stare at Potter's sleeping face instead.

He looked so at peace on the pillow, his hair all over the place, wild as ever. Draco couldn't help but gentlyrun his hand through it, just to feel the soft texture. Because, just liked he had reckoned, Potter's hair was soft under his fingers. He saw Potter lean in to his touch, and it made Draco's heart beat faster. Slowly, green eyes opened, first with sleepiness, that changed to confusion, to realization and Draco held his breath, waiting for Potter to pull away.

But he didn't. Instead he let out a breath, and blinked, looking at Draco like he wasn't real.

"Sleep well?" Potter whispered softly.

"Yes."

"Good."

And they just lay there, bodies still tangled together and Draco's hand still in Potter's hair, looking like neither of them knew what to do. Draco wondered why Potter wouldn't pull away, why he wouldn't excuse himself and go to the bathroom or just move an inch away – why he was still hugging Draco like he had when they were sleeping. Why he didn't want to demand Potter get the hell out of his bed he didn't even want to think about.

There were too many questions, and Draco disliked not knowing where he stood. That's why it had been so unbearable last night, when Potter had tried to talk to him. Draco had made him stop because he didn't know how to respond. Because he didn't know what he meant to Potter if he meant anything at all. And he didn't want to get his hopes up, in case Potter still hated him despite everything.

"So –" Potter began but Draco couldn't bear another conversation of small-talk about nothing.

"What am I to you?" Draco asked harshlyand Potter abruptly stopped talking, looking at him with wide eyes. Then Potter looked away, biting his lip, hesitating.