Of All Things

Of all the things that he remembers, it is the kisses that Harry remembers the most.

He remembers that first sweetly hesitant kiss they shared beneath a silvery white moon. Draco's hair had glinted in that faint light as they stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, and they had both been breathless and sweaty from an intense competition of "See Who Catches the Snitch First". Harry remembers the light fluttering of the Snitch's wings between Draco's fingers as Harry closed his own hand around them, and the way he had noticed how slender those fingers were. He remembers the way Draco had looked at him, grey eyes wider than usual and containing a hint of uncertainty. He remembers the way they had been standing so close that he could feel the warm heat radiating off of Draco's body, and the way he had never felt his heart pound so fast before. He remembers how they had stood so still until finally they both moved just a little bit, and then a bit more, leaning closer and closer until their lips had touched and Harry had lost track of everything and anything other than Draco.

He remembers those slightly bolder, exploratory kisses as they lay curled together on a overstuffed musty couch they had stumbled upon, way off in a corner of Hogwarts. Harry remembers how Draco's silver blond hair had fallen forward to tickle his stomach as the other boy leaned over him. He remembers how Draco's warm breath had fanned gently over his skin as that mouth had nipped and nibbled and kissed and sucked until Harry had thought he would surely go mad from desire.

His breath still catches a bit painfully as he remembers other kisses - long, searching kisses they had shared before going home for the summer. It had been the only way they knew of to say goodbye, the only way they could find to speak what was in their minds and hearts. Those kisses had tentatively asked and confirmed so many things.

Do you want me, need me...love me, depend on me, trust me...long for me, think of me...?

...Yes. Only you. Always. Now and forever.

Another memory flashes before his eyes - a hot June night, and in one of the corridors of Hogwarts, Draco had backed him up against a wall. His mouth had been demanding and hot and hungry against his own, lips and hands and tongue roaming and arousing until Harry came, Draco's name escaping his lips on a breathless gasp...

Still another time up against a wall, but this time the kisses were hard and angry, product of a tense, emotional argument that only finally concluded hours later as they lay curled in each other's arms, gazing into each other's eyes and talking in low voices. Harry remembers the relief he felt as they worked through their problems, and the softness in Draco's eyes as he reached up to push a lock of Harry's ever messy hair out of his eyes.

"I really do love you, even if you are a stupid git," he had said, and despite himself, Harry had laughed before pulling Draco close for another kiss, this one sweet and filled with love and desire.

And as time rolled on, so many other kisses. Kisses in the rain with their hair plastered to their foreheads. Kisses on the edge of a cliff overlooking a waterfall in Tahiti with the sunset a radiant tapestry in the background. Kisses in their kitchen as they stand with their arms twined around each other. Kisses at weddings throughout the years - Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Neville. ("Whoever would have thought that Longbottom would get married," Draco had snorted before Harry had laughingly shushed him with a brush of his lips on Draco's own.)

There were kisses shared as they lay on a bed of fragrant spring grass, kisses at the door as they went about their daily lives. Kisses in their bed with Draco's arms above his head as Harry moved inside him, gently at first and then faster and faster as their passion overwhelms them.
Kisses of love, kisses of anger, kisses of sadness, kisses of need. Kisses of passion, kisses of desperation, kisses that speak a thousand words.

Kisses that Harry now holds to his heart as his most precious memories, his most precious treasures.

A tear slowly slips down his cheek, and Harry opens his eyes.

Another memory.

A hospital bed with sheets of green and silver silk because, after all, Malfoys do not lie in beds with plain white sheets, no matter how ill they are.

Draco's eyes, full of love and passion and need and desire, even after all these years.

Draco's hair, spread like a gold white wave around his head.

Draco's skin, pale and smooth, despite all his worries about wrinkles Draco's mouth, curving in a slight, sad smile as a pained, choked sound comes from Harry's throat.

Draco's arm, drawing him down.

Draco's lips, clinging to Harry's as they pour every inch of their need and devotion and love and desire into that simple, slight touch.

One last kiss.

A kiss that said all that needed to be said, all that could ever be said, all that would ever be said.

And so of all the things Harry could remember, it is the kisses that he remembers the most.