Any Way
“I don’t play games,” Draco said, something crackly in his voice. He came closer, hips swinging from side to side. Like he was trying to stop himself, or like he was pouncing, Harry couldn’t decide. Draco certainly couldn’t, his head shaking no, but his knees already touching Harry’s on the sofa.
“I don’t take unnecessary risks,” he ground out. Like it hurt, like it was a confession. Harry’s eyes were glued to him, magnetized, head stretched so far up it should hurt.
“Draco—”
A thumb brushed his upper lip. “You wanted the truth, no? That’s why you suggested that game. Thought you’d have to wrestle it out of me.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco just rolled his eyes. “Shh. You weren’t wrong. Just—listen.”
He nodded, choked with it all. His smell, chestnuts and cold night air, the look in Draco’s eyes. Molten iron. Hardness made soft.
“I don’t like being told what to do.” His hands slid up to run through Harry’s hair, chest caving on a deep, deep sigh. “I don’t respond well to authority. Or kindness.”
Then he fell to his knees, right there in between Harry’s. So fast it stole the breath out of him, made his heart leap, trying to tear through his chest. Harry’s hands surged forward, helpless. Touch-reassure-protect-fuck-soft-love-love-touch.
“I’m not a good person,” Draco whispered into Harry’s palm. “I’m not patient. I’m not thoughtful. I’m selfish, and childish, and vain. If lying’s easier, I lie. If leaving is easier, I run.”
He looked up at him. The lump in Harry’s throat tripled in size, with awe and surprise and with tenderness. “I nearly did, Harry. Run. I’m not… strong like you, determined. I was scared. Am scared, still. You could hurt me a lot more than a whip or a curse.”
Harry couldn’t breathe with it. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I promise. Never in a way you don’t—”
“You’re not listening,” Draco chided, but softly. “That isn’t the point. You could hurt me. You’re fierce, and fearless, and immeasurably, unfairly kind. But I stayed, because…” he huffed, and the tears on his face could be Harry’s too, “because I’m. Willing to try.”
Molten silver burned through him, painful and precious. Draco was shaking before him, wide open and scared, but staying put.
“There, your twenty truths. Now you know. Might have known, already, but. If you’ll still… if you’ll have me, even with all—then I’m willing to try.”
It crushed him, the weight of it in his chest, the urgency. Harry pulled him up and Draco let himself be taken, kissed, held, flittering endless eyelashes in Harry’s face.
“Is that… Potter, you’ve not said. If it’s a yes.”
“You’re such an idiot,” Harry laughed, shaking his head, bursting with fondness. “And that’s not how you play the game, you know.”
A small sound of distress. “I’m just—”
“You’re perfect,” Harry said. “Yes. I’ll have you. In any way you let me.”
His own sneaky little truth.
(Day 14 of @flufftober! Find all previous ficlets here, or on AO3)
