The Re-Sorting [Drarry, TW SMUT]

Regrets.

1st POV - Harry

Draco’s hand was cool in mine, his grip firm but hesitant, like he wasn’t used to holding onto things. Maybe he wasn’t. 

I gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure this out.” 

Draco let out a short, humorless laugh. “There’s nothing to figure out, Potter. We’re on opposite sides of a war. That doesn’t just—change” 

Since last night, since our raw intimacy, Draco was so....cold.

I clenched my jaw. “It has to.” 

Draco pulled his hand from mine, rubbing at his temples. “You don’t get it.” 

“Then make me get it,” I shot back, frustration bubbling up. I want him. I want to have this. To have us. “Because from where I’m standing, you chose to come to me. You chose to ask for my help. You chose to kiss me back.” 

I choked on my words. Draco flinched. 

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling roughly. “Tell me you regret it.” 

Draco’s mouth opened, then closed. His throat bobbed, but no words came out. 

I stepped closer, tipping his chin up so he had to look at me. “Tell me you don’t want this.” 

Draco’s breathing was shallow. His pulse thrummed against my fingers. 

And still—he said nothing. 

I nodded, my chest tight. “That’s what I thought.” 

Draco let out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering to my lips before darting away. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.” 

“Yes, I do,” I murmured. 

His gaze snapped to mine. 

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of what you want." I said. “But I also know that if you run from it, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” 

Draco swallowed hard. “I can’t—” 

“Yes, you can,” I whispered, inching closer. “Just let yourself.” 

Draco’s eyes flickered shut for a fraction of a second. When he opened them again, something in his expression cracked. 

And this time, he kissed me.

It wasn’t careful. 
It wasn’t hesitant. 
It was everything.

Draco's lips crashed against mine, rough and desperate, like he was trying to steal the air from my lungs before I could take it back. His hands clutched at my shirt, tugging me closer, as if proximity alone could solve all the problems pressing down on us. 

I let him take what he needed. Let him pour his frustration, his fear, his longing into me. Because I needed it too. 

I backed him against the wall, never breaking the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair. He gasped into my mouth, the sound making my head spin. I could feel his heartbeat racing against my chest, mirroring my own. 

And then, just as suddenly as he started, Draco pulled away. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild. 

“This is a mistake,” he whispered, but he didn’t sound convinced. 

I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. “Then why does it feel like the only thing that’s real?” 

His breath hitched, and for a long moment, we just stood there—our foreheads pressed together, our hands still gripping at each other like we were the only solid things in a crumbling world. 

Draco closed his eyes, shaking his head. “You don’t understand what loving you means, Harry.” 

Loving. Love. Does he love me? How could he?

The word hung between us like an unspoken confession, like something neither of us were ready to acknowledge but couldn’t take back. 

“Then tell me,” I urged. 

Draco exhaled, long and slow. When he opened his eyes again, they were burning with something raw and terrified. 

“It means I might have to betray everything I’ve ever known,” he said. “It means choosing you over my family. Over my safety. It means that if Voldemort finds out—” 

He cut himself off, shaking his head again. 

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Then we make sure he doesn't find out. I'll protect you. We survive this.” 

Draco let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You make it sound so easy.” 

“It’s not,” I admitted. “But I’m not losing you, Draco. Not now. Not after this. Not after waiting so long.” 

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to argue, to push me away again. But then he sighed, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. 

“Okay,” he whispered. 

Relief flooded through me, but I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too hard, afraid that if I did, this fragile truce between us would shatter. 

Draco’s fingers ghosted over mine before curling around them again, hesitant but firm. 

I squeezed back. 

“We’ll figure this out,” I said again, softer this time. 

Draco inhaled shakily, then nodded. 

And for now, that was enough.