𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐬

It wasn't long before Harry realized that two months had passed since he and Draco got together.

Together. There was nothing that comforted him more than repeating that word over and over in his mind late at night as he fell asleep. Nothing comforted him more than waking up and being together with Draco throughout the days.

Spring came with a flush of rain and storms that pattered on the rooftops and throughout the Great Hall. There was a constant wet spot by the beds of Harry's dorm mates from when they took off their muddy shoes at nighttimes.

Harry spent much of his time in the Library in the mornings with Draco, and his classes were spent thinking about after classes with Draco, and his evenings were spent walking through the hallways, the Shrieking Shack, or the Courtyard with Draco.

"Remember when you used to have a life and friends?" asked Draco one night on a bench outside.

"Remember when I was being hunted and almost killed every year? Because that was the price I had to pay," was Harry's response. "I'm perfectly happy with you as my friend."

"Harry, Harry, I think we are far past the point of friends. No?"

He chuckled and leaned in closer to his companion. "True," he said. "Although, it's not like you have anywhere else to be either, if I'm not mistaken. You're always the one waiting for me."

"Are you sure that you're not the one to come and find me?" asked Draco, smirking.

"Yes," Harry grinned. "And you wait."

Harry fell asleep that night before their conversation was finished. He woke to find that Draco had been kind enough not to move him in his sleep, and had slept outside with him as the result.

Harry apologized profusely for the kink Draco had said he had in his neck from being lopsided for so many hours on end, but Draco said he didn't mind, and quite enjoyed waking up beside Harry.

It was that moment when Harry realized that he too enjoyed waking up to Draco being his first sight. In fact, he wouldn't at all mind if that were the case for the rest of his life.

He could just see it so perfectly: Early morning,  golden sunrise, the light illuminating Draco's hair and skin and then glowing in his eyes at their first flutter. He would draw little shapes over his back and arms, and feel Draco's breath course softly on his face.

Draco had said not long after that night that he always envisioned a rather modest adulthood, not so much as a child, of course, but defiantly recently.

He had said that he didn't want Malfoy Manor to be his future. He didn't want to become any more like his father than he unfortunately already had.

He said he wanted to go to the woods and build a cabin and keep the weeds long and the tree branches overgrown. Inside would look just as the outside, and they could listen to the rain together all night long if they so pleased. Listen as the prickly branches scraped against windows, and leaves falling to the ground from the pressure of the water.

Never again would they have to separate themselves from each other due to a class, or a curfew, or a side in a war.

Harry responded that he would like nothing more. He would leave Hogwarts, leave Grimmauld Place, pack what little he had and be right there at his side.

"What about the Weasels?" asked Draco. "Won't they want you to live with them?"

Harry thought grimly, but surely. "They'll have their opinions, I'm sure of it. But at the end of the day, I can make my own decisions.

"What about you're parents?" asked Harry as an afterthought. "Surely they also have many opinions about that sort of thing. The only difference is that unfortunately they have a lot more power than the Weasley's do, right?"

"Oh, it'll be a challenge to get away from them completely. But I'm already away, and they don't want much to do with me anymore as it is. We'll work it out... that's what normal adults do is it not?"

Harry looked to his lap, mustering a smile of some sort, "I don't think we really can be normal adults now. More like lunatic magicians."

"Humour me, Scarface," Draco nudged him. "We'll make the most of life. Make it fun, adventurous—safely—do dumb things that dumb couples do... whatever we want."

Harry smiled truly this time and looked to Draco.

"'Whatever we want' sounds very nice to me."

Draco smiled back fiddled with the hem of Harry's Gryffindor robes.

"We'll be able to wear whatever we want as well. I can get you an entirely knew wardrobe of actually suitable clothing for a boy your age," Draco remarked. "When was the last time you wore anything of your own that fits you?"

"Hey!" Harry slapped his arm, "My clothes fit me just fine!"

"Rubbish," Draco scoffed, "You dress like a twelve year-old who just shrunk two sizes and never noticed. Besides, those tacky blueish trousers you wear cannot be comfortable."

"You mean jeans?"

"Sure, whatever. You need some real trousers."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well, maybe you should try on a pair that aren't pleated or pressed without a wrinkle."

"It's called having class, Harry. There's nothing wrong with putting effort into one's appearance."

"And I say there's nothing wrong with jeans."

Both boys shared a smile and parted ways feeling more refreshed than sleep could ever bring. It had been late, far past curfew, and they snuck back to their dormitories reluctantly.

If Harry hadn't slept a wink that night due to thoughts about his future with his companion, no one ever had to know. That secret was for him and Draco alone, and he would never again let anyone spoil his happiness.

That thought alone, was the moment he realized that he had now become an adult—regardless of his age—and he couldn't be more excited.