Hands

Hands

A harsh winter wind was busy tearing across the curved windows of Gryffindor Tower as the two 7th years sat by the roaring fire inside. The almost cold common room was otherwise empty, with the majority of Hogwarts students having gone home for the Christmas holiday. The setting sun was casting its bright amber glow across the center of the room as Harry Potter sat cross-legged on the sofa, lazily perusing through the latest edition of Quidditch Through The Ages. His long, slim fingers were gently curling the top corners of the pages as he read, warm firelight licking the pages.

"Are you still reading that boring book?" Draco Malfoy was feeling boredom creep up on him. He sat next to his boyfriend of fourteen months; his back up against Harry's left arm and his head lazily resting on the cushion perched behind Harry's back. Draco had been nursing an unsettling feeling since earlier that day, unsure of its origins or how to shake it off. His too subtle attempts at getting Harry involved in something more distracting had been unintentionally rebuffed. Draco shivered slightly; pulling a blanket that had been thrown across the back of the couch and draping it across his body.

"Hermione gave me this for Christmas and I want to have a look at it before they come back tomorrow." Harry was a bit surprised that Draco had even offered to join him. Even though they had been together for a little over a year, Harry could count on one hand the number of times Draco had set foot in the Gryffindor common room. Their relationship had been accepted long ago by their respective housemates (the other two houses, though finding it amusing at first, really couldn't care less), but Draco was still leery of passing through that particular door. The only times Harry could remember Draco accompanying him here had been during especially trying times of their relationship - during times that Draco had been admittedly unsure of his place in Harry's affections, as if he was leery of letting Harry out of his sight. When Draco announced he was coming with Harry to the common room, this observation started to bite at the corners of his mind where he had tucked it away.

"I don't know why you have to look at it right this second. It's not like there's any stunning new revelations to be learned. We should be outside, flying, like I originally suggested." Draco stated this very matter-of-factly. He wanted to get out of there, away from the deafening quiet where his mind was nearly forced to wander into territory he didn't think he should go. He'd always been one to over-analyze, which usually led to deep-seeded insecurities being unearthed without his permission.

Harry still had his attention focused on the book, his palm now cradling its spine, but responded anyway. "Draco, it's freezing outside, and it's so windy that we'd spend half our time just trying to stay upright." He heard Draco let out the same irritable sigh that was always delivered when Draco didn't get his way. Harry briefly considered asking Draco to spill whatever it was that seemed to be intruding on their quiet moment, but opted not to. With Draco, it was usually best to just let him come to you, and Harry had learned that particular lesson early on in their courtship. Very rarely did his persistence ever pay.

Harry looked up and over at Draco's sullen profile. "I'm in it, you know."

"In what?"

"The new edition. I'm mentioned. Twice." While Harry usually abhorred such attention, he didn't mind it so much when it came from Draco. He liked the proud gleam that would take over Draco's usual fixed expression of cool indifference. Few people in Draco's life knew just how deep his still waters ran, and Harry felt privileged to be one of them.

"Really?" Draco turned the top half of his body around to have a look, leaving his legs stretched out along the length of the burgundy velvet sofa. "Where?" Harry flashed him a coy grin, and Draco looked at the book with half-amusement, half-genuine interest.

Harry flipped to a previous page where his snitch-swallowing incident from his first year was footnoted. Draco looked up at Harry and gave a proud smile. There was that gleam. Draco's eyes followed Harry's hand to the text and read, then he took his own and grazed the lettering that spelled out his lover's name in the margin. Draco knew that Quidditch was the third most important thing in Harry's life. Whether he came first or Sirius did, he never asked. It didn't matter.

"What was it you said about that? Something about a wide-mouth tree frog I believe?"

Draco gave a short laugh. "Well, yeah, but you have to admit it was an unusual catch. I'd never accuse you of that now, seeing as how you use your mouth for much more productive activities." Draco turned his head a bit more to flash Harry one of his trademarked mischievous smirks. He was rewarded with a soft chuckle and a shove.

"Where's the other bit?"

"I don't know yet. I only know I'm in here in the first place because Ron told me, or rather, he shouted it at me when I didn't agree to read it right there by the tree. Probably something about being made Seeker when I was eleven."

A moment passed.

"So, how much longer are you going to be?"

"Draco, why don't you just-"

"Alright," Draco interrupted, sensing that Harry was only seconds away from being irritated with him, "you've got twenty minutes and then I'm heading back downstairs. It's cold in here and I'm bored." Why Draco offered to come up here, he didn't know. Harry had mentioned after their late lunch in the kitchen that he wanted to have a quick read through of the book, and before Harry could offer to meet him back in the Great Hall or Slytherin common room Draco found himself uttering the phrase, "I'll come with you." Harry had stared at him a moment too long before Draco finally led the way up the tower steps. He should've just let Harry bring the book downstairs. They had spent every waking (and sleeping) moment together since Holiday had started. Draco half wondered if Harry wasn't sick of him by this point and had wanted to go back up to Gryffindor Tower just to escape him for a half-hour or so.

"It is a bit chilly, isn't it? I suppose the elves saw no reason to keep the fire lit with everyone gone. It'll warm up in a minute."

"It's already been ten minutes." Draco grumbled into his blanket, which was now pulled up to his chin.

"Look, I get tired of being underground all the time, Draco." Harry was getting exasperated, "I've been in your dungeons for two weeks now. Honestly, I don't know why you care so much about coming in here; no one else does anymore. Besides, our couches are much more comfortable. Leather furniture is overrated."

"First of all, Weasley and Finnegan still give me glares, and secondly, it may be overrated in the comfort department but certainly not in the sexiness department. And since Slytherin equals sexy..."

"Snape has a leather chair in his office." Harry paused, then, "Do you think he fancies himself as sexy when he's grading our potions exams?"

"Shut. Up. Merlin, now my brain is bleeding. You don't even want to know the visual that conjured."

"Twenty minutes?" Harry smiled

"Well, it was. Now you've got eighteen minutes and twenty-eight, no, twenty-seven seconds."

"Alright. Chess in the Great Hall afterwards?"

"Yeah, alright." Draco stifled a yawn, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep waiting for Harry to finish what was supposed to be 'just a glance'.

Draco shifted further against Harry as he began waiting for time to tick by. He reached behind him to grab Harry's left arm and brought it over his shoulder that was nestled against the back of the couch. He took Harry's hand in his own, cradling it with his left palm, and began his ritual of tracing lines that made the deep recesses on the surface. Harry had beautiful hands. Soft in all the right places, with just a hint of callus that never seemed to form from where his Quidditch gloves chafed the flesh. Draco had imagined that Harry's hands would be rich fodder for a palm reader. Having no interest in Divination himself, he hadn't paid any attention when it was covered in class. Considering that Professor Trewlawny taught it he didn't think he missed out on much. Draco reminded himself to buy a book on Palmistry during his next excursion to Diagon Alley. Trewlawny had replaced all the required reading material on her students' lists with works authored by herself, so Draco knew better than to borrow one of those.

Draco went about the task of running his right index finger along the three most prominent lines on Harry's hand. There was one deep line that ran along the length of his hand, horizontally, just below his fingers. The one just below that was not quite as long, but just as intrusive. It was the third line that was unlike the others. It ran along the curve of Harry's palm just under his thumb. It continued almost to his wrist, but while it had areas where it seemed to cut into his flesh, there were other areas where it was almost non-existent. Like there was something beneath the surface pushing the skin back up. Draco's own hands couldn't be more different. The palms were almost as smooth as the tops of his hands, except for the one deep curve that ran all the way across towards the top. Draco had hoped this was his heart line. He definitely had to get one of those books.

Draco was still trying to rid himself of that uncomfortable knot inside, and his current activity was only causing him to sink deeper into his own thoughts. Something about this action always caused Draco's thoughts to snowball, like Harry's hands held the answer to all the great mysteries of life and the contact was necessary for resolution. Harry was breathing in a slow, relaxed rhythm that Draco tried to match.

Maybe it was the exchange of Christmas gifts this morning that had prompted it. True, it was the day after Christmas, but he and Harry had agreed to open friends and family gifts on Christmas Day and save their own exchange for Boxing Day. This was to be their first real Christmas together. Last year, it was barely two months into their relationship and things were still sketchy at best - passionate, but sketchy. The gifts exchanged last year were the typical gifts that one would give a new friend, or the relative you felt obligated to buy for but really hadn't a clue what they'd really like. Draco had gotten Harry a broomstick servicing kit, unaware that Harry had gotten one from Hermione years earlier. Draco at least got pleasure from the fact that his was better, and designed specifically for servicing the Firebolt. Harry had given Draco an enchanted silver broach in the shape of a dragon (of course). The eyes of the dragon would glow a bright, flaming orange-red whenever the wearer was angry or especially perturbed, acting as a bit of a warning to those contemplating an approach. He had gotten sick of seeing the eyes light up whenever he so much as laid a finger on it, so he had put it away in his trunk. Harry had seemed to find it quite amusing.

December 26th was also their unofficial anniversary. Not of the first kiss, but of the first time Harry had told Draco that he loved him. Draco had a fierce recollection of how that moment last year had played out. It was on the steps near the entrance to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione had stayed behind, and as they were leaving the Hall after dinner Harry had told them to go ahead to the common room without him. He wanted a moment alone with Draco. Harry had led Draco out to the top step, sat down, and motioned for Draco to do the same. They sat for several moments, Draco's hands in Harry's while his thumb traced small circles over Draco's fingers, their legs flush against the other's. Harry couldn't seem to, or didn't want to, make eye contact.

Finally Harry spoke. "I..I just want you to know..."

"What?" Draco felt a sudden wave of panic. Harry's mood had suddenly shifted to something Draco couldn't identify, Harry's tone wavering and half a pitch too high. He had this sudden fear that Harry was about to tell him he didn't even want to be friends anymore, let alone the person who sometimes shared his bed. He was already forming an internal rant directed at Weasley, who could be the only cause of Harry's sudden change of heart, when Harry spoke again...

"I just want you to know that...I love you." Harry looked directly at Draco when the pivotal words were uttered, eyes of warm emerald searching eyes of fiery steel for a reaction.

Draco just blinked, too stunned to even give a reaction. He could barely swallow.

At that moment in time, Draco could only remember having been told that twice in his life. Both were by his grandmother when he was still a small boy. He knew his family loved him, but it just wasn't said. Implied every day, but never spoken. Draco didn't think he minded - until that moment.

Now Harry Potter sat before him, saying that he loved him, and looking very much as if he meant it with all that he had inside him. Just 3 months before, they were spitting vitriolic words at each other in the Charms corridor when Draco had run into Harry wearing his invisibility cloak. Draco had been both furious and elated at having his suspicions confirmed as to just how Harry was able to have the run of the castle. Snape would confiscate the cloak for sure. Draco still wasn't sure of the exact events that led from that collision to the apprehensive kisses that took place approximately 45 minutes later, with Harry still invisible from the waist down. There had definitely been some yelling, and then actual conversation. Of that he was sure. Still, he had always regretted that he couldn't remember the precise movements that had led to the very second in time his life changed forever.

Draco forced himself back into the present, his finger still lingering within Harry's palm.

It all became suddenly so...overwhelming. Draco looked down at the base of the Christmas tree beside the fire at the gift Harry had given him that morning. It was an enchanted water globe, with miniature versions of themselves inside where one would usually see a castle or a snowman. The globe would change with the seasons; falling snow for Winter, leaves for Autumn, pale petals in Spring, and the glow of sunshine for Summer. Harry had told Draco that he had seen one at Arabella Figg's house, although at the time he wasn't aware it was magical. The figures inside would change poses at night, and Harry had assumed she just owned a lot of water globes since she had a different one displayed every time he visited. The mini Harry and Draco were currently standing face to face, hands clasped together at their sides. They looked...serene.

Draco took Harry's hand and pressed it against his own chest, just above his heart, and let out a labored sigh. He felt Harry stir beside him. Harry's love could be overwhelming at times. Draco occasionally felt like it would swallow him whole, leaving no room for any other human emotion to exist within their two hearts. His whole world could shift at the slightest touch from Harry. Draco had once asked Harry how it could seem so easy for him to forgive a person that not only did and said horrible things to him, but also to the friends that had become Harry's family.

"That's simple Draco. I love you."

"But there has to be forgiveness first, right? How can you forgive so nonchalantly?"

"Actually, no, I didn't forgive you first. I loved you first. Forgiveness came after."

"How? How is that even possible?"

"I forgave because I love you."

What was even more difficult for him to comprehend, however, was his own love for Harry. Draco had several instances in the past where he thought 'This is it, this is the most I could ever love', only to have that ceiling built and rebuilt over and over again by Harry, each time reaching higher and higher. There were still moments where Draco's breath would catch in his lungs upon the sight of Harry walking into a room, his thought processes shut down completely over witnessing a subtle movement such as Harry pushing his glasses back up his nose in concentration. Draco felt a need, a hunger inside him that could only be satiated by Harry's mere presence. There had been times that Draco had snuck into Harry's dorm through the tower window in the middle of the night simply to stand by Harry's bed and listen to him breathe while he slumbered. Draco never woke him on these occasions. Maybe one day he would share these silly excursions with Harry.

Sometimes he would need to feel Harry's skin against his own so strongly that it overpowered him; he literally could not stop his fingers from reaching out. He never knew before what it meant to love someone so much that it hurt, to have this constant pleasurable ache exist inside you. Your heart was just an organ, just there to keep the blood flowing. Love was supposed to exist in the mind - so why was his chest hurting? These little moments were like small tidal waves to Draco; nearly knocking him down with the sheer force of emotion that welled up inside him.

It was that very force that now caused Draco's eyes to burn. He felt the first tear escape. Then the next. Another still. He had no power to stop them. Part of him didn't want to. He wasn't paying attention to where his tears were falling, which was directly onto Harry's sleeve. Each tear brought with it an old regret, an old transgression begging yet again for forgiveness. Draco sat perfectly still, waiting for this weakness to pass. He could hear Harry behind him, turning another page.

"Hey, here it is." Harry began to recite, "Harry Potter of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry became the youngest Quidditch player in a century when he was given the coveted position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team at the mere age of eleven."

Draco sat still, not yet prepared to face Harry. A moment passed.

"Draco?" More silence.

"Draco?"

Harry saw the other boy's shoulders slowly collapse. He felt Draco release his hand as Draco took his own and covered his face, slumping forward. Harry swiftly got up to sit down again on the other side, facing Draco and picking up his other hand that lay curled in his lap. He heard a quiet, stifled sob escape from beneath the pale fingers.

"Draco, please, what's wrong?" Harry was becoming alarmed.

Another moment passed.

"I'm sorry" was all Draco could eventually manage.

"Sorry for what? Draco, tell me, what is it? Did I do something?" Harry attempted to pull Draco's hand from his face, prevent it from covering his eyes any longer, and eventually succeeded. What Harry saw at that moment made his heart weep. Draco looked completely broken. Brow furrowed, cheeks reddened his mouth a dejected frown. Fresh tears were still making their journey down the sides of his face. He'd never seen Draco look so raw. He brushed Draco's silvery fringe from his eyes and tucked it behind his ears.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just...I'll be fine." Draco went to wipe the wetness from his cheeks, but Harry grabbed both his arms gently to prevent it. He wanted Draco to know he could be broken in front of him; that together they could put the pieces back.

Harry waited a few precious seconds before he spoke again.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, just tell me you're alright." Harry's voice was barely above a whisper now.

Draco finally looked up, but avoided Harry's gaze and aimed his own at the mantle above the fireplace directly behind Harry's shoulder instead.

"I'm fine, really. I just...I'm fine. I got a bit...overwhelmed, and it just came out. I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

Harry pulled Draco's chin until their eyes met, refusing to allow Draco to avoid his gaze any longer. He could see flames dancing alongside the fear and the veneration shining in Draco's eyes. He leaned in and lightly kissed the warm streams that the sudden tears had left behind, Draco's cheeks still hot to the touch, his arms still within Harry's grasp.

"Stop apologizing already. You're allowed the occasional outburst of human emotion, you know. You don't need my permission." Harry leaned back and gave Draco what was quite possibly the sweetest grin he'd ever be on the receiving side of.

Another moment.

"Still not telling?"

Draco couldn't help but smirk at Harry's persistence. He reclaimed those perfect hands and entwined Harry's fingers with his own, relishing their softness and gentle strength.

"I just got a bit, I don't know, frightened for a moment."

"Frightened?" Harry's brow furrowed, making him look younger than his 17 years.

"Yeah." He looked pointedly at Harry now, trying to get his eyes to convey what he was trying to avoid verbalizing for fear of embarrassment. Harry looked quizzical. Draco cursed inwardly. Apparently he was going to be forced to talk about his feelings, a very non-Malfoy practice. He dropped his gaze back to his lap, back to those hands.

"Look, sometimes I just get overwhelmed. I start thinking about you and everything we've been through, everything that's happened to bring us to where we are now." Draco took a sharp intake of breath, unaware he'd been holding onto it. Draco looked back up at Harry, suddenly feeling more courage than he thought he had. "Sometimes I can't believe...can hardly understand...how you could love me." Harry thought about interrupting, but decided against it, sensing that Draco needed to say whatever it was he was about to say.

"I did such horrible things to you and your family, Harry, and every morning I wake up and I wonder what's going to go wrong today. I wonder what disaster is going to strike that's going to take all of this away because I know I don't deserve you. And I know you deserve better." Draco's voice got so quiet that Harry barely heard what was said next. "You could have anyone, Harry." Draco let a small frown fall across his mouth, freed one of his hands and started to pull at a loose thread on the hem of the blanket, losing Harry's gaze once again. Harry recognized this as one of Draco's diversionary tactics.

"But then I think more about how I feel about you. I know I don't say it very often, and I'm sorry for that too, but I love you Harry. I love you so much that sometimes I feel like my heart is going to shatter into a million pieces from the sheer force of it. I just...sometimes it just..." Draco stilled, lost for words, and suddenly exhausted as if he'd just stepped off the Quidditch field from an eight hour practice session. He wasn't sure if that was from the crying, or from the somewhat embarrassing confession.

A thousand thoughts ran through Harry's head of all the things he could say in response. None of them seemed good enough; nothing seemed sufficient to match Draco's vulnerable acquiescence. So he did the same thing he always did when Draco left him speechless. He leaned in, brought his hands back up to Draco's face, and covered Draco's mouth with his own. He tried to put everything he ever wanted to say to Draco into this one kiss; let his tongue write verses of love and adoration along the soft, sweet inside of Draco's mouth, knowing deep down that there really wasn't enough time left on earth for that to be possible.

Suddenly, nothing seemed like it would be enough.

Harry's let his lips progress to Draco's sharp jawline, placing a careful bite. Draco trembled from the force of passion emanating from his lover's kiss. Harry continued down and over to the spot just behind Draco's lobe that Harry knew would make him concede. Harry let his tongue lightly flicker and tease the perfect flesh, before giving in to Draco's tightening and pleading grasp and begin to gently draw the supple skin into his mouth. Harry moved his hands down the back of Draco's neck to his shoulders, and started to push Draco back onto the couch.

"Harry..."

Harry stopped Draco from speaking by nibbling gently on his bottom lip. "Shush." Harry pulled the offending blanket out from in between them, desperate to banish anything that might keep their skin apart.

Draco allowed himself to fall back on the couch, feeling the solid weight cover his body, Harry's tongue drawing a languid line down his chin and along the path to his collarbone, and surrendered to the beautiful hands of Harry Potter.

At the base of the tree, the two figures in the water globe were melted into such a tight embrace that no light could escape between them. The figures never altered after that moment, defying all enchantments to the contrary.

*~*~*

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