𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕

We kissed for a long time.

At least, it felt like it. I moved my hands to his cheeks. I caressed them lightly, gently wiping away his tears.

I had never been more confused, yes so sure of myself in my life.

Draco was, and had always been, a mystery. And needless to say, I wasn't much of a detective, that was more Hermione's area of expertise.

Draco kept his tight grasp on my arms for a good while. As the kiss progressed, and we both grew more comfortable, he moved his hands down to my back and waist.

Never, had I ever felt a feeling like that one before. The best words of description would be an explosion. The world exploded while only Draco and I were suspended in time as long as our lips remained on the one another.

"Harry," Draco murmured agains my mouth. I felt the vibration all the way down to my toes. "Harry."

I hummed.

"Harry," he broke our lips apart, but didn't move away. "I can't do this."

"What?" I asked, a little surprised, because not two seconds ago, he seemed to be just as captivated as I was.

"It's so hard." The look on his face spoke only defeat.

"It doesn't have to be, Draco. I promised you."

"Harry. People don't like people like us. They like normal. Normal people who kiss other normal people."

"There's no such thing as normal." 

"You know what I mean!" He said, exasperated. Exhausted. Merlin, he was so tired. Mentally. He had been fighting this battle longer than I had, I'd only just realized it was happening. And even then, I still didn't fully understand.

"I don't, actually. Everyone's different. Everyone. Think about how miserable the world would be if we were all the same?"

"We could get hurt. It's bad enough already that I'm a Death Eater, imagine what they would do if they found out that I was a Death Eater who likes boys?"

"Oh yeah?" I challenged him. "And what would they do to me? I like you. You're a boy."

He scoffed at that. It was halfhearted, and he didn't really mean it, but it still bothered me that be wouldn't just believe in me.

"They'd probably turn it into some sort of bloody trend," he sneered, "You could commit first degree murder and still be praised for it."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. But just like him, I didn't really mean it. It wasn't funny. None of this was.

"First of all, I kind of already did," I said, referencing Voldemort's defeat. "And second of all, you can't compare being gay to murder. That's not right."

"Not everyone thinks that way," Draco said softly.

Another tear ran down his cheek. I brushed it away with the tip of my thumb, he leaned into my touch. I didn't move my hand away.

"It's worse now," he continued, "With you and the Press. The news will spread ten times faster and then we'll be done."

"So it's my fault then?"