I'll Play Your Game

Chapter Thirteen

A/N:

WARNING Chapter Contains: Mild Display of Triggered PTSD

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Harry and Draco both startled awake in the same instant as light flashed through the room, briefly lighting it in a sickly green-ish glow, before returning to pitch darkness.

Draco had already lunged for his wand on the bedside table, before a deafening crack of thunder filled the air. It took him a few moments of staring at the sheets of rain pouring just outside the window and at Bartholomew's huffy re-settling before his brain caught up to the fact that it was only a storm. Sweet slumbering Circe, even the bird was handling the storm better than he was. 

He took a deep, steadying breath, and looked over to Harry, who didn't appear to be in much better shape. He looked to be counting quietly under his breath, breathing slowly and intentionally, still staring out the window into downpour.

"Damn I really hate storms," Harry finally muttered, tearing his gaze away from the window to look at Draco. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Draco set his wand carefully back on the bedside table, and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Harry echoed, letting out a slow breath and running a hand through his hair.

Another crack of thunder sounded, and they both tensed, but stayed where they were.

"Guess I shouldn't put my hopes on getting much more sleep tonight," Harry mumbled, sliding back into bed and resting his head on his hand to look up at Draco.

"Probably not," Draco agreed, sighing. Well at least he couldn't beat himself up for overreacting to the weather when Harry was practically the same. Small comforts.

He slid back under the covers and turned to face Harry.

"'S only three in the morning⁠—" Harry tapped lightly at the tattooed pocket watch on Draco's chest, "—it's gonna be a long night." His voice was complaining, but his hand stopped its tapping and flattened against Draco's chest, warm brown against frosty white. He scooted closer, until they were up against each other, and he could feel Draco's heart beating not just against his hand, but in his own chest.

Draco yawned. "Guess so." He slid a hand over Harry's waist, just to sit there at the dip. It was nice to have the solid reminder that he really wasn't alone in all this. 

He hadn't realised quite how much it had sucked having to go through everything alone the past few years, but now that Harry was in his life, he found it hard to imagine how he could ever go back. Harry wasn't just someone there to lean on when he needed it, but he was someone who actually understood, who went through some of the same things, and who Draco could help support when Harry needed it.

He'd never known how nice it could be to be a shoulder to lean on — had never had the occasion to know before — but it had its own sort of warmth and comfort to it, knowing you could help support someone you loved.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Harry whispered.

Draco blinked, refocusing on Harry's face and his shining, curious eyes. "Just. Really glad you're here." He smiled softly. "I mean, here as in right here, but also just...here in general. I don't know quite what I'd've done with myself if you'd not walked back into my life out of nowhere. Carry on being miserable and taking it one day at a time, I suppose."

Harry smiled, and Draco watched the corners of his eyes crinkle. He wondered if he could ever brew a potion that made him feel half as bright inside as watching Harry's eyes crinkle with a smile.