Here In Your Arms

The sun is poking through the curtains and right into my eyes yet again. You think I’d learn to sleep the other way, or move the bed so it didn’t. But being the way I am, I try to cunningly trick the sun not to shine in my face. Blast! That will never work. I suppose I should get up. I lift my head to realize that it still faintly hurts. And it’s 7:26 am. That means I slept off most of my hang over, through a whole day. Harry’s already vacated his spot on the bed. I stumble to the bathroom and find him in the shower. I strip off the only items of clothing that I’m wearing and hop in with him. Make him yelp when I grab his hips from behind and spook him, but he forgives me. The water helps to wash the last little bit of haze from my brain.

We dress and make breakfast. Harry decides to paint, and I decide to watch/write. I open the word document I was working on a few days ago. I reread the simple words I typed in a few quick thought that wouldn’t leave my brain until they were imprinted on a microchip.

‘Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life.’

Harry catches my eye at this point. He’s lying on the floor, palette on one side of him, looking at his work, or the ceiling, I’m not sure which. I decide to join him.

“Whatcha doin’ love?” I ask with a slight Irish accent, I’m not sure why, but I did.

“Would it make a difference in the world if I had just lay here, or if I did everything to solve all the problems in this world on my own, or if I did stupid things like chase cars or did nothing that I was told, or I’m not sure what, but why would they forsake us so?”

He’s having one of those moments. He saved the whole blasted wizarding world, and me having been at the final battle (on the light side, when I changed sides, I was merely saving my ass, but it developed into a lot more) scooped a nearly lifeless Harry and kissed him like no one ever before. Little did he realize that being gay in the wizarding world was snarled at, and you were almost always exiled, even when you’re their fucking savior. So we packed up all of our belongings, which weren’t many after the war as almost everywhere had been destroyed, and bought a house in the muggle world. That was about five years ago now, and it still bothers him that everyone that wasn’t our friends simply forgot we existed. A simple solution to our spotlight phobias, but a painful one none the less.

“Harry love,” I say as I roll over on top of him, “You can’t let this bother you. Yes it’s a slap in the face, but you can’t still be mad at the ministry. What the fuck was the ministry except a corrupt agency that ran based on money? What the fuck is everyone in the wizarding world that didn’t feel like we’re worth knowing? Nothing.” And then he turns his head, and I see the deep glaze of tears in his eyes. And I know that everything that matters is right here underneath me. I will never be as contented or fulfilled with anything as I am with this 5’7” dark haired bundle of cuddle whore that is my Harry. He looks so deep into my soul, that I shudder and feel cold all of a sudden. I snuggle into his arms and he breaks the silence.

“I love how you can just make me forget the world; I just need you to remind me sometimes. Drake, I love you more than you’ll ever know, and harder than you could ever feel.”

I’m somewhat shell shocked. I did not expect to hear any coherent speech out of him for awhile. I flip over so that he’s on top. And that’s when I realize it was onto his palette. Damn it all, that’s the second hoodie that’s gotten covered in paint in three days. Looks like Harry has a couple new work shirts.

“Damn it all to hell. Harry, is it in my hair? Please tell me it’s not in my hair.”

“It’s not you drama queen. Now go take that off so I can salvage the paint off of it.” He says as he lifts himself off of me.

“Always about the paint…gees, what does a guy have to do to get some attention around here?!” I mock him, as I stand up he grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in for a breath taking kiss that only he can plant on me when unexpected.

“Better?”

“Hell yeah!” I reply and peel off my hoodie so he can have the paint off of it.

I go grab another hoodie, one of my last three, and put it on, and return to the paint room to find my lover painting as if nothing happened, with my sweatshirt in place of his palette. The scene makes me chortle as I return to the unfinished…poem? lyrics? I’m not sure what it is yet.

I know I have more to add. I quickly have something that goes like this:

‘If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?’

I feel breath on my ear again. DAMN IT! Why does he always do that? Holy hell, the sun is almost set in the sky, how long have I been writing and Harry painting? Oh my, I suppose it doesn’t matter.

“Play it for me.” He demands. I haven’t got quite all the cords worked out, but it’s simple, that’s the trick to a great love song, or so I think. I get out my guitar, tune it and start to strum.

About half way through his eyes have tears in them. I’m not sure why. It’s not that great of a song, I wrote it because the nuisance wouldn’t leave my brain. It needed to be bleached out, immediately, so I wrote it.

I finish and he jumps into my lap, just as I put down the guitar, almost dropping it. He’s kissing my face in between words.

“Draco…I…love…that…song…it’s…so…us…and…it’s…me…and…you…and…how…impossible…my…life…has…been…and…and…I…I…love…you…so…sooo…much…more…than you’ll ever know!” He puts in a long string and then attacks my mouth with his. The kiss is rough and bruising, but I love it when he’s possessive.

Somehow we end up back in our bedroom, and I’m all of a sudden nude. I’m forced up against the wall and Harry’s doing me…wait…Harry’s DOING ME?! That’s unprecedented. It happens so rarely, only when he’s so worked up over something that he needs to be rough and tough and controlling. I let him do anything he wants when he’s like this. It’s so rare that he doesn’t blush even at the mention of topping…and then I lose all thought process as white stars dance across my vision, and time seems to stand still, as my Harry and me dance the forbidden dance. We fall into bed, hearts racing, blood pounding in our ears, breathing heavy. I’m nearly asleep when I hear a faint voice close to my ear.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to invite Seamus over for dinner, and you’re going to play him that song and see what he thinks. If you want to, that is.” It takes me a minute to figure out what he’s talking about, but when I do, I reply.

“I don’t know Harry, it’s just a piece of drabble I wrote because the words wouldn’t leave me alone. It was more for you than money.”

“But it would appeal to so many young kids out there!” Seamus was the international icon of the week. He came out to his family just before seventh year, and they told him they never wanted to see him again unless he had a wife and children. He left the wizarding world after graduation and went after the muggle dream of being a rock star. He made it, and HUGE! The piss off factor of a gay rock star appealed to so many teens that he was almost an overnight success. And a great friend to Harry and Draco when they too left.

“Fine, but just say if it’s for dinner, I’ll show him the lyrics and if he likes it, then we’ll consider the next step. Okay?” I yawn…so close to sleep, why wouldn’t Harry just let him sleep?

“Sounds good.” He pulls up the blankets and snuggles into my chest.

“Snuggle slut.” I say.

“Shut up.” He flops down on my chest with a bit more force then necessary. “I like where you sleep when you sleep next to me.”

“I like where you sleep here.”

And with that, another day of nothing means the world to two people as they drift into the sweet world of dreamland.


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A/N: This is my favourite chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! Tell me what you think! Thanks to my beta Ruinithil/Thindiell. I loves ya Chels!

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WeasleyWench: Here it is! Thanks for the review!

thrnbrooke: Here it is! I know, I *heart* fluff, so they’re super fluffy. Thanks!

Night: It’s not 100% Au without magic…but somewhat. I know…Draco’s my favourite character, so I like to make him all melty with Harry. Thanks for the review! I like to here what you have to say!