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you dont have to say i love you to say i love you

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The moonlit grass sunk under Draco. He lowered his body onto the land, taking in his surroundings. He sighed, the weight finally settling on his shoulders.

“So much for being a Malfoy,” Draco spat, tears welling up in his eyes.

He huffed and angrily wiped his tears away. He curled up, rocking himself back and forth, the sound of waves soothing him. Caught up in the moment, the blonde didn't notice the rustling around him. Soon, another figure sat beside Draco. He looked up, surprised and turned to face the intruder. There was no one there, but there was definitely someone there.

‘Potter,’ Draco thought, and clear

“I know you're there, under that stupid invisibility cloak of yours.”

“We don't have to talk. We can just sit. I'm not here to fight,” Harry spoke, tugging his cloak off and emerging out of his disguise. The two boys sat, solemnly.  They kept to their own devices, looking out at the shimmering lake ahead of them. Hours passed and not a word had been spoken. It was comforting, quiet.

“Hey, Malfoy. Uh, thanks. For . . . Everything.”

“That's a vague way to put it but . . . Thank you too.”

 

The two boys parted, seemingly unchanged. But they both knew that along with the structure of Hogwarts, the boys’ differences simply melted away.

 

This time, Draco was the one intruding. He just didn't know it. He plopped down onto the grass and immediately broke out in a sob. It had been a hard day, full of mocking and nasty jabs that just broke a dam inside of him, the tears gushing down his face, streaking his cheeks. Usually Draco could handle it but it was too much. When he emerges from the compact position he had assumed, he finds himself staring into twinkling green eyes, shining with guilt and worry.

“I know you want to be alone but I was here for a while and I heard you. Are you okay? Wait, that’s a bad question. I mean can I help with anything?” The Boy Who Lived spoke quickly.

“It- it’s fine . . . Thank you for asking” ‘For caring,’ Draco mumbled, picking at his nails.

“Okay, but I’m right here if you need anything. The war affected us all, and you deserve better.”

Draco’s grey eyes widened, disbelieving.

“You of all people should disagree with that! You should hate me,” the boy hesitantly spoke, as if letting his feelings out would destroy him.

“I could never hate you. Ever . I don’t think I ever did. I just think my anger and annoyance was misguided.”

Despite himself, Draco smiled. His eyes glistened with residual tears but shone bright from the purest form of happiness.

 

As they parted that night, they knew that they would actually look forward to meeting again.

 

“And then, my potion exploded all over me!” Harry explained, gesturing wildly.

“That’s not surprising, coming from you.”

“Oh, shut it, will you?”

“Never,” Draco singsonged.

 

Conversation came easily to the two of them. One would think that the polar opposites would only speak to bicker, but they found themselves laughing at each other, and the things in life they just happened to overlook. They now met every night by the lake, just to enjoy the presence of each other. It was peaceful and they didn’t need anything more. Not all days were this bright. Harry would often curl up, hiding from the nightmares that snuck up on him and threatened to take his happiness; a dementor of his imagination. Draco would find himself in a similar situation, wanting to erase his past and his name along with it. But they now had each other for support. They would listen and sit in silence. After all, they were both Chosen Ones; just from the opposite ends. And this bond is what made them rush back to each other. Every. Single. Night.

 

They had broken the unspoken rules they themselves had created. They broke down their own walls to support the other.

 

One day Draco woke up and realized that something inside him had snapped. He enjoyed Harry Potter’s presence more than he thought he would have. That realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He had already known many things: they were both in Eighth Year and most certainly bi/gay. It was unspoken. But Draco has some buried feelings which decided to emerge.

“I like Harry. I. Like. Harry.” Draco gasped and immediately clamped his hand over his mouth. Then he smiled. There was nothing to be scared of. Three months ago he had encountered Harry and thought they would never talk. And now, Harry is one of the closest friends Draco has ever had. The feeling was amazing, knowing that he had a friend. It was even more so knowing that you liked someone. Despite the nervousness and confusion, infatuation was enjoyable.

 

Harry was already at their spot by the time Draco joined. The Gryffindor was skipping stones, a serene smile on his moonlit face.

“Hey,” he said softly, turning to face Draco.

“Hi,” Draco smiled. He sat down, close to Harry, and looked up at the sky full of glowing stars. Feeling bold and inspired, Draco took a deep breath and exhaled.

“I like you.”

Draco closed his eyes, anticipating a shocked expression to take over Harry’s features. Instead, he felt a hand lightly cup his face and another circling his waist. Harry had leaned in, his face centimeters away from Draco’s. The latter felt breathless. He never wanted the feeling to end.

 

Just then, Harry gasped, as if he just processed what was happening. Draco huffed and spoke,

“Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.”

 

Harry closed the distance, lips pressing against Draco’s. He curled his fingers in the silvery blond locks. Draco deepened the kiss and rest his arms around Harry’s neck. When they broke apart, it wasn’t out of choice, but out of necessity. When their thirst for air was quenched, they found themselves entangled in each other’s embrace by the glassy lake, finally feeling free.