Stay With Me

Chapter 15

That was the first night that Draco slept under the covers.

Not that either of them got much sleep anyway. Harry was staring up at the ceiling, replaying the kiss over and over again.

And Draco curled himself up under the sheets, ever so often peeping across at Harry in the darkness, wondering what it would be like to feel his lips on him again.

When they'd returned to the house that night after staring up at the stars, Draco squeezed Harry's hand a little tighter, thanked him for helping him overcome the panic attack, and excused himself for bed, explaining how the breakdown left him drained, both mentally and physically.

Neither of them had the bolster in them to mention the mind-blowing kiss they just shared, hearts were still beating rapidly and throats were still constricted by sweet nerves leaving both of them stumbling over their words and blushing profusely.

As the sound of the bedroom door closed on the floor above, Harry clasped his hands over his mouth and paced the room still in a state of disbelief. He sat down, then stood up, then sat again, brushed a hand through his hair, then paced once more. It was Draco. He wanted Draco.

When Harry returned to the bedroom shortly after, he stopped at the foot of the bed and felt his heart swell noticing Draco under the bed sheets for the first time. Whether it was due to the kiss, or simply because Draco was trying to warm up from a night spent on the cold grass, Harry liked to think he had something to do with it.

In the weeks that followed, both Harry and Draco found themselves in a constant state of blushing admiration.

Harry would be sitting on the sofa, flicking through the pages of Quidditch Weekly whilst Draco sat nuzzled into the corner of the other sofa, lost in the depths of his novel. Harry's eyes would often fall onto Draco, admiring the curves of his lips as he mouthed the words silently, or the way he brushed the hair from his eyes every time he looked down at the pages.

Sometimes Draco would catch him out, looking up from his book to question why Harry was staring, and Harry would bolt back down to his magazine, his heart doing backflips with giddy excitement. Then Draco would smile inwardly, adoring how Harry's cheeks would flush pink and how he would fumble over his words like an excited schoolboy.

Both of them were just as smitten as the other, just too stubborn to admit it.

That was how they found themselves falling into a strange yet comfortable agreement.

Things between them started off slow. Every night as they drifted off to sleep, their hands would touch. Harry would intertwine Draco's delicate fingers around his own and fall into blissful sleep and neither of them would be plagued with worries or fears knowing that the other was close by.

Sharing the bed was now a regular occurrence, and though they never verbally agreed to it, Draco had practically moved into Harry's bedroom. His book stayed on the nightstand and his pyjamas were always neatly folded and placed on top of the pillow.

Harry didn't mind, of course, having Draco close by was the comfort he never knew he needed and it soothed his heart seeing Draco sleeping peacefully beside him. Despite Draco moving under the covers, they still kept a pillow between them in the middle, to respect each other's boundaries.

Draco wasn't ready for any other forms of physical touch and Harry completely understood, after all, Draco had spent almost a year on the receiving end of bruises, broken noses and cuts thanks to his clients, his body needed time to heal, time to feel safe again before he could hand himself over to someone else's touch. Harry knew deep down what the main reason was, but he never mentioned it. Draco had no idea that he knew what had happened during his final client visit and Harry planned to keep it that way.