Be My Wings {drarry}

Chapter Twenty Two

Sunday 13 September 1998

Harry

I physically feel you relax when Draco stops bleeding, and you practically melt into the back of our brain, letting me take control as your body shifts into mine, the smoothest shift we've ever gone through. I'm naked, with nothing to change into, but I genuinely couldn't care less.

Now that my mate isn't in mortal peril, I can appreciate how truly beautiful he is. Everything about him is soft and delicate and pale. His skin is smooth like silk and pale like porcelain. His eyelids are long and blonde and fan out across his sharp cheekbones, one of which is red with blood and will probably be scared forever. I frown, if only because I can only imagine the upset it will cause him, before gently wiping the blood away. In his sleep, his face turns towards my palm, and I feel a rush of affection so strong it would probably take me off my feet if I wasn't already lying down.

He murmurs something to quiet for me to catch, and his lips curve gently up into a smile. That's another thing about him- his smile. It's something I've rarely seen. I've seen him smirk, sure, plenty of times, but smiling is rare, and laughing even more so. But that means I get to be the only person to make him happy, to see his smile, hear his laugh. And that is the greatest privilege I could ever ask for.

Aside from that, his smile is truly beautiful. His lips are thicker than they were before his inheritance (shut up, Eli, I did not spend my time staring at his mouth, thank you), and are light pink and smooth and I can't help but wonder if they feel as soft as they look.

There's only one way to find out.

I thought I just told you to shut up.

I trail my eyes to his chest - shut up, Eli - I didn't say anything - You were about to, though. Touché. Anyway, I realise his shirt is almost stiff with dried blood, so I remove it, trying not to wake him, then wrap his cloak back around his shoulders so he doesn't get cold. His body is truly breathtaking. His skin is even paler where it is usually covered by clothes, and softer too. His collar bones and hip bones jut out, and I find myself tracing them with the tips of my fingers, making him whine quietly in his sleep, and I know if I keep going and he keeps making that noise I'll do something I'll regret.

But he's so-

No, Eli.

I proceed to clean up the wounds on his chest and shoulder as best I can, before moving to his wings. I don't quite know how to address them. I can tell just by running my finger through the feathers that a lot are loose, and are making the wings a lot heavier than they need to be. A lot are also matted with blood, and I think the only thing for that would be to take a bath. But I can at least remove the old ones.

I groom his wings with my fingers, and sure enough more feathers than I expected come loose and fall away. I realise the ones that do are a much darker colour and look a lot messier and duller. It takes a while to do the whole of his wings, them being so big, but the motions are relaxing, and to be honest, I would give anything to simply be touching my mate. Once I'm done, what is probably hours later, his wings are more delicate-looking, softer, and shinier. They were beautiful before, but now they're so much more. I can barely take my eyes away. That's probably why I don't notice immediately when he wakes up.

When I finally pull my eyes away, it's to his eyelids fluttering, breath more irregular.

"Draco?" I murmur, trying not to wake him if he isn't actually awake. But he is, and his eyes slowly blink open, examining his surroundings before finally landing on mine. I think I stop breathing for a second. His eyes are grey and blue and confused and glossy and breath-taking. I didn't quite realise how close I was to him when he was asleep, but now I do. I notice every fibre of my being that barely brushes up against him. I want to pull him against me, be even closer, make him okay. My mate.