The Re-Sorting [Drarry, TW SMUT]

Worth Fighting For.

1st POV - Harry 

The war was over. 

It should have felt different. The world should have looked different. But the sun still rose, the wind still carried the scent of damp earth, and people still went about their lives. The difference was in the silence—the absence of fear that had been a constant weight on everyone’s shoulders for years. 

But for me, the battle didn’t end with Voldemort’s last breath. It lived on in every scar, every nightmare, every uncertain step toward a future I wasn’t sure how to build. 

I sat on the back steps of the house—our house—watching the sun dip behind the hills, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. The place was small, tucked away in the countryside, protected by the best wards Hermione could weave. It wasn’t grand, wasn’t meant for a hero, but that was fine. I had never wanted to be a hero. I wanted peace. I wanted love.

Inside, I could hear the occasional shuffle of movement—Draco, still getting used to living somewhere without looking over his shoulder. He had been quiet since the battle in his Father's manor, like he was still waiting for something to go wrong. As if the war wasn’t truly over, just waiting for him to let his guard down. 

The door creaked open behind me. I didn’t turn. I knew it was him. His presence was something I had come to recognize instantly, like the weight of my wand in my palm or the feel of the air before a storm. 

A moment later, he sank down onto the step beside me. 

He was thinner than before, the hollowness in his cheeks a reminder of everything he had endured. His hands trembled sometimes, as if they weren’t quite convinced they weren’t meant to hold a wand in defense at all times. 

“Why are you out here?” he asked, his voice soft, unsure. 

I shrugged. “Didn’t want to wake you.” 

“I wasn’t asleep.” 

Of course he wasn’t. Sleep had been an elusive thing for both of us. 

Draco ran a hand through his hair, still slightly damp from his shower. He smelled clean, like soap and something distinctly him. His knee bumped against mine, and he didn’t move away. 

He was still adjusting to this—to safety, to us.

I reached over and took his hand, threading my fingers through his. He stiffened slightly before exhaling and letting his shoulders relax. His grip tightened like he was afraid I’d let go. 

“You okay?” I asked. 

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a ridiculous question.” 

I didn’t let go. “Yeah, well. I’ll keep asking it.” 

Draco stared at our joined hands, his thumb tracing over my skin, like he was trying to convince himself I was really there. “It doesn’t feel real,” he admitted after a long pause. 

I knew what he meant. 

Neither of us had imagined a world where we made it out of this alive. 

But we had. 

And now we had to figure out what that meant. 

I turned toward him fully, watching the way his breath hitched slightly at my attention. He had always been good at pretending—masking his emotions behind sharp words and a practiced sneer—but not with me. Not anymore. 

I reached up, brushing my fingers along his jaw. “Draco.” 

His name was a whisper between us, something sacred. 

His eyes met mine, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t see fear there. Just exhaustion. Uncertainty. A longing he hadn’t yet put into words. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to just... exist. Without waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

I nodded, because I understood. “Then we’ll figure it out together.” 

Draco let out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around mine. “And if I don’t deserve this?” 

I didn’t let him look away. “You do. You always have. You always will." 

His mouth twisted, like he didn’t quite believe me. But he didn’t argue. 

Instead, he shifted closer, resting his head against my shoulder. 

The last time we had been this close, it had been in the shadow of war. Our touches had been desperate, driven by the fear that every moment might be our last. This was different. Slower. Quieter. 

Draco exhaled, the tension in his body finally unwinding. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” 

I squeezed his hand. “Anything you want.” 

He was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he whispered, “Stay with me.” 

I turned my head, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I never planned on leaving.” 

A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of fresh rain and blooming wildflowers. I closed my eyes, letting the moment settle into my bones. 

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about what came next. 

Because for once, the future was ours.

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YAYYYY THE END THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING

bonus chapter coming up shaboing.....