Love me Like you Do

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Draco was nestled in his bed, engrossed in his laptop as the morning light filled the room. Suddenly, Narcissa entered, gracefully making her way to her son's bedside. "Good morning, darling. When did you wake?" she gently inquired. Draco, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, replied, "Around eight. I've been taking it easy for the past hour." Sitting up, he continued, "Though, I must say, I feel much better today."

A warm smile spread across Narcissa's face as she observed her son. "You certainly look better than yesterday, my dear," she remarked. Draco's eyes lit up as he confessed, "That's all thanks to Harry. He's truly a sweetheart. While you were changing my bed sheets, he helped me refresh in the most caring way. He washed my hair, gave me a soothing back massage, and even joined me back in bed afterward. I love him, Mum."

Narcissa's heart swelled with joy at seeing her son so content. "Oh, isn't he perfect for you, my darling? With your ex-girlfriend, happiness seemed fleeting, but now...just look at that radiant smile," she gushed, unable to contain her delight. Draco bashfully covered his beaming grin with his hand, but Narcissa gently pulled it away, holding his hand firmly in hers.

Draco grasped his mother's hand even tighter as Lucius, his father, entered the room and settled on the edge of his son's bed. "Good morning," Lucius greeted, his tone carrying a hint of seriousness.

Sensing the impending conversation, Narcissa rose from her seat and followed Lucius out into the hallway. "Aurelia is coming over today, but she expressed her desire not to see Draco," Lucius disclosed, addressing his sister's preference. Narcissa furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why on earth not?" she questioned, perplexed by Aurelia's request. Lucius sighed, his voice tinged with irritation. "She called him 'anti-social' just because he retreated to his room upstairs," he explained.

With a heavy sigh, Lucius stepped back into Draco's room. "Draco, my boy," he began, his tone gentle yet concerned. "Your aunt is coming over, but it seems she doesn't want to see you." Draco, feeling disheartened by the news, closed his laptop and placed it on the carpeted floor.

Seeking solace, he retreated beneath the covers and pulled the duvet over his head, craving the comforting escape of sleep. The mood had shifted, and he no longer felt in the mood for conversation.

Draco slowly emerged from beneath the covers, his eyes fixed on his concerned parents. Determination flickered in his gaze as he spoke with a resolute tone. "I'll get dressed and head over to Harry's. There's no point in staying here," he declared, longing to be in the comforting presence of his boyfriend. With that, he reached over to grab his phone, which was charging nearby. Unlocking the device, he dialled Harry's number anxiously, only to be met with silence as the call went unanswered.

Growing increasingly worried, Draco's heart skipped a beat when he heard the melodic chime of the doorbell. Narissa gracefully descended the stairs to greet the visitor, soon realising it was Harry. "Draco's upstairs in his bedroom. He's both sleepy and upset," she informed Harry with a compassionate tone. With a sense of urgency, Harry entered the house, removing his shoes and jacket before proceeding upstairs to find his beloved boyfriend.

As he entered the room, he discovered Draco sprawled on the bed, his tear-stained cheeks evident even in sleep. Gently, Harry lowered himself onto the bed, lying on his back beside Draco, who had unintentionally drifted back to sleep.

With a tenderness born of love and concern, Harry ran a soft hand down Draco's cheek, tracing a soothing path to comfort his slumbering partner.

Hours later, Draco sat on the train, en route to Soho for his work at the club. Harry sat beside him, their hands intertwined, their love palpable.

A mischievous grin played on Harry's lips as he broke the silence. "So, do I get the first lap dance?" he playfully inquired, causing a flush to rise on Draco's cheeks. Chuckling, Draco gave Harry a teasing glance. "Possibly, but only if you pay me a mere £5. Other men will have to shell out £25 for that privilege. But for you, my dear, I might just make an exception—perhaps even offer it for free if you ask me nicely," he replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

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