Forty-six minutes and twelve seconds. That was how long Harry had been sitting on Draco’s bed, staring at the clock.
Twenty-six minutes and fifty-seven seconds. This was how much time had passed since his first tear fell.
One hour and nine minutes. How long he had slept last night.
Twenty hours, thirty-seven minutes and fifty-one seconds. How long ago Harry Potter had watched Draco Malfoy storm out of their dorm and never return, leaving only Harry and his heart that shattered a little more with each second.
Between each tick of the clock, Harry saw the visions of last night play like snapshots of a scene in his mind. The images haunted him.
He saw himself shoved against the wall of his dorm, Draco’s strong arms locking him in, his taller frame looming over Harry. He had been looking for a fight, yearning to feel something other than the hollowness of guilt and grief that the war had carved inside him. They were friends now, forced companionship having bloomed into something more, yet petty fights like this happened often. Both knew the solace the other found in this destructive routine of violence.
Draco had smirked, and the rage that had burned through Harry exploded into something he now knows as a thing far more dangerous.
He had suddenly grabbed Draco by the neck and pulled him down, their lips smashing together with an urgency that paralleled to the frantic beat of Harry’s heart.
He had felt his pulse jump when Draco’s lips began moving against his pressing own.
He had almost collapsed when he felt the gentle touch of Dracos’ fingers brushing the black locks from Harry’s eyes.
For the first time in six months, one week and six days, Harry had lost count of the time. His mind had stopped ticking and his thoughts no longer focusing on how long he had been alive since death had gripped him.
The only thought that swarmed his mind was how Draco’s lips were much softer than he had imagined.
A tear fell from Harry’s eyes as he thought of Draco pushing him away quickly, urgently, pity and hurt and regret painting his face as he increased the growing distance between them. He hadn’t said anything, only looked at Harry as if he were a child, as if he were a bundle of emotions yet to be controlled, before moving to the door and leaving Harry in their dorm, the ticking of the clock his only company.
And that’s how it had remained. Harry hadn’t seen Draco since then and, as it was a weekend, no shared classes would allow Harry a glimpse of the boy he had been beginning to call a friend who would likely never utter word to him again. The only thing they would share from now was the odd, awkward greeting and the heavy feeling of knowing that something had been ruined before it had even the chance to grow.
Harry let his eyes fall onto the clock again. He wondered how long his chest would ache. It seemed like an eternal thing right now, rigid and sure in his heart, the complete opposite to the ever-changing time he kept count of.
He wondered how a kiss that lasted only fourteen seconds could shatter his entire world.
It was this very kiss that he thinking of when he heard the door of his and Draco’s shared dorm shut quietly and turned to see Draco Malfoy standing rigidly in the centre of the room.
Harry stood, his face flushing as his mind debated being more embarrassed by being caught crying on Draco’s bed or being embarrassed for kissing Draco in the first place.
He eventually decided to be more concerned about Draco’s whereabouts, a comforting habit for him.
“Where were you?” Harry said, his voice coming out more croaky than he had expected.
“With Pansy.” Draco’s reply was almost sharp and said without meeting Harry’s terrified gaze.
Harry noticed Draco’s hand shaking and wondered if he was scared to tell him what Harry had already accepted; that they would have to switch roommates, that they could no longer be friends, that he didn’t like Harry in that way.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered into the silence between them.
Draco’s hand stopped twitching.
Harry let out a cold, humourless laugh. “For ruining everything. For being a fuck up. For kissing you.”
“I’m not sorry you kissed me, Harry.”
Harry’s heart stopped in his chest.
“Have you been crying?” Draco asked, not giving Harry time to respond or comprehend what he meant.
Harry instinctively wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “A little.”
Draco moved forward and stops only inches from Harry, the distance between them almost as small as the night before. A cold, gentle hand reached up and brushed away the wetness on Harry’s cheek.
Harry held back a shiver as his heart raced, eyes remaining glued to the floor.
“Fifty minutes and thirty-three seconds,” Harry replies automatically. He catches the frown that flickers across Draco’s face.
Draco paused. “You don’t need to count every second to be grateful for your life, Harry.”
Harry swallowed, unable to respond. He felt Draco cup his chin and tilt his face so their gazes met. “You deserve the life you have, you deserve to live.”
“Ok,” Harry said, letting the words sink in. The words rung true somewhere deep inside of him. Unlike time, he was not moving forward by keeping track of it. He was remaining stationary, but he wanted to start moving again.
“Harry?” Draco’s thumb was stroking Harry’s cheek now, confusion beginning to swirl in his mind. He thought Draco would swear him off forever, not tell him he didn’t regret the kiss and stroke his skin like it was the most precious thing in the world.
“I’m sorry that I stormed off last night.”
The clock ticked as Harry watched Draco’s mind place his words together carefully, as he always did. “I was scared of letting you in. I have feelings for you, Harry. Quite a lot of feelings, and I was worried that you didn’t feel the same, that you kissed me as part of some sort of game.”
“What made you change your mind?” Harry asked, the sound of his beating heart drowning out the ticking of the clock.
“I haven’t. I just thought it would be best to ask you instead. So, Potter,” Draco said, moving closer to Harry, “why did you kiss me?”
Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Um… well… because I wanted to? And-and I like you and have feelings for you,” he stuttered out, taking a step back.
Draco followed him. “Is that all?”
“Well, I-I’ve had a crush on you this whole year.”
“Hmm, I see. And did you like the kiss?” Draco asked, smirking slightly, moving closer as Harry continued to step backwards.
“Would you like to kiss me again?”
“Yes.” Harry felt his back hit his desk.
“How would you feel if I kissed you?”
Harry breathed out as Draco closed in around him. Their chests were touching and Draco’s lips were only a head-tilt away from Harry’s own. He felt his heart hammer.
Draco smiled and before Harry could realise the error in his response, his neck was being cupped and his lips were being kissed by a pair whose taste he thought would never grace his again.
By the time they had finished kissing, Harry’s mouth was red and sore, his shirt dropped onto the dorm carpet, and his voice now only knowing the words “Draco” and “Merlin” and “Please!”. His head now lay atop Draco’s bare chest on the blond’s bed, his eyes drooping as he traced the pattern on Draco’s pyjama bottoms absentmindedly.
His heart felt both fuller and lighter than it had in years.
For the first time since the war, Harry fell asleep not counting the ticks of the clock or the silences between them, but rather the sure, strong beat of Draco’s heart.
