#just bye

Alfred Molina & Holly Hunter - Breakable You

For @bixgirl1 💖

It happened (surprise surprise) during a fight.

They'd been bickering about who forgot to buy more milk, who'd forgotten to clean out Minerva's litter tray and who'd looked at whose arse at the Ministry fund-raiser the previous weekend.

And for once, Harry was in control of the argument. For once, Harry came up with a rebuttal for everything Malfoy drawled at him in that irritatingly posh, tinny voice of his.

For once Harry had been winning, dammit.

And then it happened and Harry couldn't for the life of him understand how he hadn't noticed it in thirteen years of knowing the prat, two years of being his roommate and seven months of being his boyfriend.

His boyfriend.

Draco Malfoy was Harry's boyfriend and Harry nearly fell over backwards as the realisation, that one particular realisation, dawned on him.

He was in love with him. He, Harry Potter, was in love with Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

It was something about that sneer. The one Harry had seen Malfoy use since they were eleven. That sneer. Rude and smug and just downright nasty, there was something about that fucking sneer that just brought Harry's world crashing down.

How often did Malfoy use that particular expression? He probably had that fucking smirk in place even in his sleep (he didn't really, though, 'cause Harry knew now).

But something about that sneer, the way Malfoy tilted his head just so, the way his stupid, glossy hair, fell into his eyes, the rigid, stubborn set of his jaw, the shit-eating curl of his goddamn pink mouth.

It lit Harry up, that sneer.

He could be in a serious sulk, halfway through some mind-numbingly boring paperwork and the mere thought of that sneer made Harry snort to himself and smile.

He could be nose-deep in the middle of a case, out of breath and bleeding down one flank and shaking so hard that he could barely hang on to his wand, and the memory of that smirk gave Harry that one final blast of adrenaline and magic that then resulted in a Stunner that blew half the room apart.

Hell, he could be at his parents' graves, trying his darnedest best not to give in to that lump in his throat, and out of nowhere he'd see that sneer, coupled with a condescending insult or two about wasting Saviour tears, and Harry's heart would flutter in his chest and he'd smile and carefully dust off the matching tombstones and promise them that he's doing fine.

It was that sneer that reminded Harry that everything was going to be fine; that he was safe and loved and secure. It was the sneer that reminded him that he had everything he could ever dream of asking for. It reminded him of how far he'd come, of the things he'd seen and experienced and still had nightmares about.

That sneer told him that everything would be fine. That everything was the way it should be.

Harry doesn't understand how the fuck he'd grown to love that sneer, but above and beyond that, he doesn't understand how he had grown to love the person wearing it; the person currently vigorously digging through their cat's litter box to prove some idiotic point, the person who, under normal circumstances, would have fired off a hex or two at him by now.

The person Harry was completely and utterly in love with.

Startled into silence, Harry blankly lets Malfoy's loud, obnoxious voice wash over him ("Cat shit, Potter, it's right fucking here. Do you see it? Do you need new glasses?") before abruptly turning away and hurrying into the kitchen to put the kettle on, Ron's wisdom about how tea helped in any and every situation floating haphazardly through his mind.

"I'm not fucking done with you, Potter! Where the fuck are you going? Potter? HARRY!"

I see I see I get it from all sides today, yall just found a way to my heart and DECIDED TO GRAB IT AND SQUEEZE HARD ENOUGH FOR MY SOUL TO LEAVE MY BODY

And I got hoes I'm starting the new year with a bang

I-I- DIS YOU?! SHIT ADD ME AS A HOE OM YOURE SO HOT SIENEKE YOU LOOK SO AMAZING AND COOL