Survivors Guilt - draco/harry - pg-13 - oneshot
Title: Survivors Guilt
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Summary: Draco despairs over Harry's recovery.
Warnings: Mentions of (very minor off stage)character death, mentions of mpreg.
Word Count: 2950
Authors Note: Thank you to my ever lovely kcstories
Draco stood in the doorway of the living room, taking a rare moment to observe his partner. Harry lay asleep on the sofa, his bad leg propped up on a cushion. His hair was its usual mess, his glasses were skewed on his face and his jaw was unshaven. His face was slack and more relaxed than Draco had seen it in a long time and Draco couldn’t help but sigh heavily. It had been a long few months, and he knew that there would be many more difficult weeks ahead while Harry recovered.
Harry wore a navy blue cable knit jumper that stretched comfortably across his broad chest and a baggy pair of dark green pyjama bottoms rucked up to the knee to reveal the spell damaged tissue of his left calf. Draco shuddered at the thought of the amount of pain Harry was in, and had been in since he’d been attacked while on a raid with his Auror division more than eight weeks ago. Everything had changed that day; Harry had changed.
Draco hadn’t seen Harry so broken since the end of the war. He seemed genuinely lost and nothing Draco said seemed to lift his mood.
The hex Harry had been hit with had slowly eaten away at the tissue of his calf and it had taken an entire team of Healers more than a week to find the counter curse.
Needless to say, the damage done to Harry’s leg had been extensive and there had been no overnight potion that could grow back perfectly healthy muscle. So far, it had been a long, gruelling process filled with long hard hours of physical therapy and still Harry hadn’t made a full recovery.
Neither was there a potion that could eradicate Harry’s insecurities and guilt over the outcome of his team’s botched mission. Harry hadn’t been the only one attacked that day. There had been four of them in his team, Harry being the senior Auror, and one of his trainees had been killed. No amount of convincing would have Harry believe that he was not responsible for the young man’s death.
Harry had been more moody and snappy than Draco had ever remembered, and Draco sometimes found that he was pushed well beyond his limits. He had very little patience at the best of times and on more than one occasion Draco had had to walk away before he said something he wouldn’t have been able to take back afterwards.
Every time he caught Harry staring into space and obviously mentally going over what had happened that day, he wanted to pinch him and make him realise that he was only human, despite what everyone else said, and that he could make mistakes just as easily as the next person.
Every time Harry refused his touches, his kisses and his attention, it took all of Draco’s patience not to shake him silly and demand that he realise that just because he wasn’t able to walk right now didn’t make him any less of a man. The scars across Harry’s leg were just another part of his husband that Draco would love.
There was a part of Draco, however, that was beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter what he said. Harry seemed to be so consumed by self-loathing and guilt that he didn’t think that anything anyone said would drag Harry out from under that dark cloud. Draco didn’t know how to show Harry that he was there for him, that he loved him despite of everything. He was his Harry and nothing would change that; he would always love Harry.
The sound of crying from upstairs filtered into his consciousness and he sighed once more. That was another thing; their son, Nicky was only five months old and for the most part of the infant’s life, Draco felt like he had been raising him alone. Harry was constantly in pain, so when he wasn’t sleeping or half comatose on pain potions, he was snappy and irritable. There was little time for him to spend with Nicky and that was what killed Draco the most. How long would Harry continue to live in this bubble where nothing but his pain and his guilt existed? It hurt Draco that Harry was missing little things about Nicky that he would never get to experience again. Their baby was changing every day while Harry was stuck there on that couch feeling sorry for himself instead of getting to know him. Draco ran his long fingered hands through his hair and pushed away from the door frame. Taking one last look at his husband, he turned on his heel and made his way upstairs.
Nicholas was lying in his cot, sniffling slightly while staring up at the mobile Ron and Hermione had given them when he was born. It spun slowly as golden snitches softly fluttered their wings and broomsticks bobbed lazily as if on a light breeze.
Draco grinned down at him and was pleased to see those grey eyes, so like his own, light up in excitement. His son kicked his legs and lifted his chubby arms up to his father, begging to be picked up. Draco obliged the baby and cradled him against his chest for a few moments, savouring the sweet pure scent of baby and innocence.
“Did you sleep well, my love?” Draco whispered into the downy black hair that covered Nicky’s head. The baby kicked excitedly against Draco’s stomach and squealed in pure delight, filling Draco with warmth.
This, this was what Harry was missing.
Draco couldn’t remember the last time Harry had played with Nicky or held, or fed him. When they were in the same room together, Draco often caught his husband giving their son a small wistful smile, almost as if he wanted to reach out to him or play with him but didn’t know how. Draco wished Harry could see that Nicholas needed more than one parent and a silent brooding figure in the corner. He needed the two of them to be there for him.
Draco carefully padded downstairs and as he passed the living room, he noticed that Harry had woken up. He was lying in almost the same position from before and staring at the ceiling.
Draco buried his face in their son’s neck and wandered down the hallway to the kitchen, thinking for the thousandth time that week that he wished he could break through Harry’s trance, and make him see what he was missing.
Once Draco had fed Nicky, he went about making himself and Harry some dinner. By the time he had finished cooking and serving the food at the table, Nicky was tired and irritable from sitting in his highchair for so long. He banged his fists against his tray and screamed at the top of his small lungs. With Harry finally at the dinner table, Draco was doing his best to soothe Nicky with one hand and eat with the other while getting Harry to talk to him.
Harry barely acknowledged that the baby was there, let alone that he was making a fuss. He simply sat at the table and picked at his food like a sullen teenager forced out of his bedroom to join the rest of the family. Having a conversation with him was virtually impossible, but Draco felt he had to try.
“Are you seeing the Healer tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Harry’s monosyllabic conversation had become the norm recently and it irritated Draco to no end.
“Do you know what she’s going to be doing while you’re there?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe it’ll be good news. Maybe there’s something new they’ve found that’ll speed up the healing process!” Draco tried to sound optimistic but with Nicky screaming at him from one direction and Harry barely looking at him from another, he knew he failed miserably.
“Maybe.”
“Have you heard from Kingsley about when the hearing will be?”
“No.”
“Well, do you think…”
“Fuck, Draco! Enough with the questions already! I don’t know! I don’t know anything, alright! Can’t you shut that baby up? I can’t fucking think!” Harry suddenly roared, knocking his plate across the room. His unexpected outburst even startled Nicky into an uneasy silence as he assessed his dark haired father with trepidation.
Draco stared at Harry in shock for a moment. The silence roaring in his ears, he felt like someone had doused him with a bucket of ice-cold water.
“That baby? That baby, Harry, is your son! Remember? I was pregnant? I had to take loads of potions? There was lots of media attention, I got really fucking fat for a while and then we had a baby. Your baby! Don’t you dare sit there and tell me to shut him up!” Draco snarled. He was absolutely seething as he stood from the table and carefully picked up Nicky before storming from the room. He could feel his entire body shaking.
Fifteen minutes later, he had flooed over the Ron and Hermione’s with a crying baby and a nappy bag; full of apologies and shaking with barely repressed rage. The time had come to get everything he needed to say to his husband off his chest before he was filled with permanent resentment for the man he was supposed to love. This was not how they were going to live their lives; this was not how they were going to raise their child. He could not take a single second more of his life the way it was; something had to give.
Draco arrived back home to find Harry hobbling into the living room.
“Where did you go?” Harry asked, while at the same time sounding like he didn’t actually care.
“I took Nicky to Ron and Hermione’s. I don’t want him here tonight,” Draco snapped and finally Harry looked up at him and met his livid gaze.
“Why?”
“Why, Harry? Because right now I am so fucking close to killing you and I didn’t think it would be healthy for him to witness it!”
Harry stood there and stared at him in alarm. Everyone had been so busy walking on egg shells around him recently that he hadn’t seen this side of Draco for a long time.
“Not tonight, Draco, I’m tired, and I’m in pain.” Harry sighed. He sounded defeated.
“I don’t give a shit; do you think you’re the only one who’s tired? Do you think you’re the only one in pain? Do you? What about me? How about the fact that I’ve been raising our baby alone for the last two months? Who do you think has been awake with him all night, every night, Harry? Who? Me! So don’t you dare fucking tell me you’re too tired to have a conversation about the future of our relationship; don’t you dare!”
Harry slumped into an armchair and stared at Draco; finally, he had his attention.
“The future of our…?” Harry’s forehead crinkled in genuine confusion; surely he couldn’t have been oblivious to the fact that what he was doing was slowly but surely destroying Draco?
“Yes, Harry, the future of our relationship, because after your little explosion tonight I honestly don’t know if we even have one!”
“How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through!”
“We’re barely in a relationship, Harry! A relationship implies a partnership, give and take, mutual respect and love. I don’t feel respected or loved by you right now and all you do is take! I’ve tried to be patient and I’ve tried to help as best I can, but you won’t even fucking look at me anymore, Harry!” Draco snarled.
“What do you want from me, Draco? I can barely walk. I can barely think about anything but that poor kid laid out in some coffin somewhere! I was meant to look after him and I couldn’t! I am meant to be looking after you and Nicky and I can’t! I royally screwed up and I don’t know how to fix things. I feel broken inside. Why would you want to know this stuff?” Harry roared back.
“Because I love you, you utter prat, and you’re throwing this all away because you can’t get over the fact that you fucked up!”
“Fucked up? Someone died, how can you be so blasé?”
“Blasé? Do you think I don’t know the magnitude of what happened that day? I’ve heard every last detail about that day more times than I’d care to recall, so no, I haven’t forgotten! I know someone died. I know how terrible that must be to deal with, but you need to stop blaming yourself; it’s self destructive!”
“You have no idea what it’s been like for me since then! It’s been hell!” Harry stared at his lap and fidgeted, his fingers playing with the hem of his jumper.
“Really? So it hasn’t been me here with you every single day, trying to get you to talk about it, trying to get you to do more physical therapy so that you’ll be walking sooner? Hasn’t been me practically pouring your potions down your throat? It hasn’t been me upstairs listening to you crying yourself to sleep every night on this sofa rather than coming to bed or confiding in me, your husband? I think I know something about the hell you’ve been through!”
“It’s not the same thing. You don’t understand.” Harry sighed. He sounded resigned and Draco wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.
“No, maybe you’re right, but maybe I never will if you continue to shut me out.” Draco sighed heavily and sat in the armchair opposite him; maybe this was useless.
“I don’t know how to let you in. I hate myself. Don’t you get that? I fucking hate myself and every day as I sit here, instead of being out there with you and our son…” Harry’s voice broke and he stared at Draco with wide, terrified eyes.
They sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another. They had reached an impasse. Harry had admitted more than he had meant to, and was terrified of how vulnerable this made him. He was so used to looking after Draco and Nicky; he was so used to being strong for everyone that he didn’t know how to deal with breaking down in the way he had. He didn’t know how to ask for help either.
“Our son is growing every single day, and he doesn’t know you,” Draco whispered sadly.
“I know.” Harry sighed and stared back at his husband resolutely.
“I can’t live like this, Harry. You need help. I will not bring up our son in a house with this much tension. He’s five months old and he already notices. If this carries on, he’s going to grow up being terrified of you,” Draco said softly and watched as pain became clearly etched across Harry’s face. He knew before they had decided to have a baby that Harry had agonised over whether or not he would make a good father and Draco hoped that his last statement would finally hit home.
“I…Draco…I’ve missed him; he’s got so big and…”
Draco heard Harry’s voice crack and he couldn’t stop himself from standing and making his way across to Harry. Before his husband could protest, he straddled his thighs, careful not to put any pressure on Harry’s injury. Draco could feel Harry shaking. His words had obviously made an impact, and Harry looked petrified. Draco reached up and tentatively pushed a lock of hair back from Harry’s forehead. Harry flinched for a moment, but soon relaxed a little. Their eyes met and Draco leaned forward to press their foreheads together.
“Don’t you miss me too?” Draco whispered. This was the closest they had been since Harry’s accident. They had barely touched, let alone exchanged kisses, and Draco couldn’t help himself. He pressed a small, chaste kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth.
“Of course I’ve missed you,” Harry whined sadly and Draco couldn’t help but smile softly.
“Then things have got to change.” Draco stared into the deep green of Harry’s eyes and he finally saw recognition there.
“I’ll talk to Healer Montgomery about seeing a counsellor tomorrow, and I’ll do those extra physical therapy classes you’ve been telling me about.” Harry swallowed thickly and attempted to smile.
“And you’ll stop wallowing and be with your family?” Draco pushed.
“Yes, I’ll stop wallowing. I can’t promise I’ll be a ray of sunshine, but I’ll try…” Harry sighed softly.
Draco could see the corners of his mouth twitching and it made the weight in his chest lighten a little. His Harry was still in there. Things would not be resolved overnight, but they would get better.
“You’ll come to bed with me now?” Draco whispered and pressed a firmer kiss to Harry’s lips.
“Yes, but why don’t you get Nicky? I want to be with both of my boys this evening, and when he’s fallen asleep maybe we could…” Harry coughed uncomfortably and Draco couldn’t help but smile.
“We’ll see. Stay there. I’ll be right back.” Draco smiled genuinely for the first time in two months and pushed back off of the sofa and Harry’s legs. In two steps, he was in front of the fireplace when Harry called his name.
“I’m so sorry, Draco.” Harry’s voice was thick with emotion and it made Draco stop for a second and turn back to him. He smiled at his husband, the Harry he loved, the man he finally recognised in the face that had seemed so much like a stranger’s recently. And in that moment, he knew they would be fine.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Summary: Draco despairs over Harry's recovery.
Warnings: Mentions of (very minor off stage)character death, mentions of mpreg.
Word Count: 2950
Authors Note: Thank you to my ever lovely kcstories
Draco stood in the doorway of the living room, taking a rare moment to observe his partner. Harry lay asleep on the sofa, his bad leg propped up on a cushion. His hair was its usual mess, his glasses were skewed on his face and his jaw was unshaven. His face was slack and more relaxed than Draco had seen it in a long time and Draco couldn’t help but sigh heavily. It had been a long few months, and he knew that there would be many more difficult weeks ahead while Harry recovered.
Harry wore a navy blue cable knit jumper that stretched comfortably across his broad chest and a baggy pair of dark green pyjama bottoms rucked up to the knee to reveal the spell damaged tissue of his left calf. Draco shuddered at the thought of the amount of pain Harry was in, and had been in since he’d been attacked while on a raid with his Auror division more than eight weeks ago. Everything had changed that day; Harry had changed.
Draco hadn’t seen Harry so broken since the end of the war. He seemed genuinely lost and nothing Draco said seemed to lift his mood.
The hex Harry had been hit with had slowly eaten away at the tissue of his calf and it had taken an entire team of Healers more than a week to find the counter curse.
Needless to say, the damage done to Harry’s leg had been extensive and there had been no overnight potion that could grow back perfectly healthy muscle. So far, it had been a long, gruelling process filled with long hard hours of physical therapy and still Harry hadn’t made a full recovery.
Neither was there a potion that could eradicate Harry’s insecurities and guilt over the outcome of his team’s botched mission. Harry hadn’t been the only one attacked that day. There had been four of them in his team, Harry being the senior Auror, and one of his trainees had been killed. No amount of convincing would have Harry believe that he was not responsible for the young man’s death.
Harry had been more moody and snappy than Draco had ever remembered, and Draco sometimes found that he was pushed well beyond his limits. He had very little patience at the best of times and on more than one occasion Draco had had to walk away before he said something he wouldn’t have been able to take back afterwards.
Every time he caught Harry staring into space and obviously mentally going over what had happened that day, he wanted to pinch him and make him realise that he was only human, despite what everyone else said, and that he could make mistakes just as easily as the next person.
Every time Harry refused his touches, his kisses and his attention, it took all of Draco’s patience not to shake him silly and demand that he realise that just because he wasn’t able to walk right now didn’t make him any less of a man. The scars across Harry’s leg were just another part of his husband that Draco would love.
There was a part of Draco, however, that was beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter what he said. Harry seemed to be so consumed by self-loathing and guilt that he didn’t think that anything anyone said would drag Harry out from under that dark cloud. Draco didn’t know how to show Harry that he was there for him, that he loved him despite of everything. He was his Harry and nothing would change that; he would always love Harry.
The sound of crying from upstairs filtered into his consciousness and he sighed once more. That was another thing; their son, Nicky was only five months old and for the most part of the infant’s life, Draco felt like he had been raising him alone. Harry was constantly in pain, so when he wasn’t sleeping or half comatose on pain potions, he was snappy and irritable. There was little time for him to spend with Nicky and that was what killed Draco the most. How long would Harry continue to live in this bubble where nothing but his pain and his guilt existed? It hurt Draco that Harry was missing little things about Nicky that he would never get to experience again. Their baby was changing every day while Harry was stuck there on that couch feeling sorry for himself instead of getting to know him. Draco ran his long fingered hands through his hair and pushed away from the door frame. Taking one last look at his husband, he turned on his heel and made his way upstairs.
Nicholas was lying in his cot, sniffling slightly while staring up at the mobile Ron and Hermione had given them when he was born. It spun slowly as golden snitches softly fluttered their wings and broomsticks bobbed lazily as if on a light breeze.
Draco grinned down at him and was pleased to see those grey eyes, so like his own, light up in excitement. His son kicked his legs and lifted his chubby arms up to his father, begging to be picked up. Draco obliged the baby and cradled him against his chest for a few moments, savouring the sweet pure scent of baby and innocence.
“Did you sleep well, my love?” Draco whispered into the downy black hair that covered Nicky’s head. The baby kicked excitedly against Draco’s stomach and squealed in pure delight, filling Draco with warmth.
This, this was what Harry was missing.
Draco couldn’t remember the last time Harry had played with Nicky or held, or fed him. When they were in the same room together, Draco often caught his husband giving their son a small wistful smile, almost as if he wanted to reach out to him or play with him but didn’t know how. Draco wished Harry could see that Nicholas needed more than one parent and a silent brooding figure in the corner. He needed the two of them to be there for him.
Draco carefully padded downstairs and as he passed the living room, he noticed that Harry had woken up. He was lying in almost the same position from before and staring at the ceiling.
Draco buried his face in their son’s neck and wandered down the hallway to the kitchen, thinking for the thousandth time that week that he wished he could break through Harry’s trance, and make him see what he was missing.
Once Draco had fed Nicky, he went about making himself and Harry some dinner. By the time he had finished cooking and serving the food at the table, Nicky was tired and irritable from sitting in his highchair for so long. He banged his fists against his tray and screamed at the top of his small lungs. With Harry finally at the dinner table, Draco was doing his best to soothe Nicky with one hand and eat with the other while getting Harry to talk to him.
Harry barely acknowledged that the baby was there, let alone that he was making a fuss. He simply sat at the table and picked at his food like a sullen teenager forced out of his bedroom to join the rest of the family. Having a conversation with him was virtually impossible, but Draco felt he had to try.
“Are you seeing the Healer tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Harry’s monosyllabic conversation had become the norm recently and it irritated Draco to no end.
“Do you know what she’s going to be doing while you’re there?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe it’ll be good news. Maybe there’s something new they’ve found that’ll speed up the healing process!” Draco tried to sound optimistic but with Nicky screaming at him from one direction and Harry barely looking at him from another, he knew he failed miserably.
“Maybe.”
“Have you heard from Kingsley about when the hearing will be?”
“No.”
“Well, do you think…”
“Fuck, Draco! Enough with the questions already! I don’t know! I don’t know anything, alright! Can’t you shut that baby up? I can’t fucking think!” Harry suddenly roared, knocking his plate across the room. His unexpected outburst even startled Nicky into an uneasy silence as he assessed his dark haired father with trepidation.
Draco stared at Harry in shock for a moment. The silence roaring in his ears, he felt like someone had doused him with a bucket of ice-cold water.
“That baby? That baby, Harry, is your son! Remember? I was pregnant? I had to take loads of potions? There was lots of media attention, I got really fucking fat for a while and then we had a baby. Your baby! Don’t you dare sit there and tell me to shut him up!” Draco snarled. He was absolutely seething as he stood from the table and carefully picked up Nicky before storming from the room. He could feel his entire body shaking.
Fifteen minutes later, he had flooed over the Ron and Hermione’s with a crying baby and a nappy bag; full of apologies and shaking with barely repressed rage. The time had come to get everything he needed to say to his husband off his chest before he was filled with permanent resentment for the man he was supposed to love. This was not how they were going to live their lives; this was not how they were going to raise their child. He could not take a single second more of his life the way it was; something had to give.
Draco arrived back home to find Harry hobbling into the living room.
“Where did you go?” Harry asked, while at the same time sounding like he didn’t actually care.
“I took Nicky to Ron and Hermione’s. I don’t want him here tonight,” Draco snapped and finally Harry looked up at him and met his livid gaze.
“Why?”
“Why, Harry? Because right now I am so fucking close to killing you and I didn’t think it would be healthy for him to witness it!”
Harry stood there and stared at him in alarm. Everyone had been so busy walking on egg shells around him recently that he hadn’t seen this side of Draco for a long time.
“Not tonight, Draco, I’m tired, and I’m in pain.” Harry sighed. He sounded defeated.
“I don’t give a shit; do you think you’re the only one who’s tired? Do you think you’re the only one in pain? Do you? What about me? How about the fact that I’ve been raising our baby alone for the last two months? Who do you think has been awake with him all night, every night, Harry? Who? Me! So don’t you dare fucking tell me you’re too tired to have a conversation about the future of our relationship; don’t you dare!”
Harry slumped into an armchair and stared at Draco; finally, he had his attention.
“The future of our…?” Harry’s forehead crinkled in genuine confusion; surely he couldn’t have been oblivious to the fact that what he was doing was slowly but surely destroying Draco?
“Yes, Harry, the future of our relationship, because after your little explosion tonight I honestly don’t know if we even have one!”
“How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through!”
“We’re barely in a relationship, Harry! A relationship implies a partnership, give and take, mutual respect and love. I don’t feel respected or loved by you right now and all you do is take! I’ve tried to be patient and I’ve tried to help as best I can, but you won’t even fucking look at me anymore, Harry!” Draco snarled.
“What do you want from me, Draco? I can barely walk. I can barely think about anything but that poor kid laid out in some coffin somewhere! I was meant to look after him and I couldn’t! I am meant to be looking after you and Nicky and I can’t! I royally screwed up and I don’t know how to fix things. I feel broken inside. Why would you want to know this stuff?” Harry roared back.
“Because I love you, you utter prat, and you’re throwing this all away because you can’t get over the fact that you fucked up!”
“Fucked up? Someone died, how can you be so blasé?”
“Blasé? Do you think I don’t know the magnitude of what happened that day? I’ve heard every last detail about that day more times than I’d care to recall, so no, I haven’t forgotten! I know someone died. I know how terrible that must be to deal with, but you need to stop blaming yourself; it’s self destructive!”
“You have no idea what it’s been like for me since then! It’s been hell!” Harry stared at his lap and fidgeted, his fingers playing with the hem of his jumper.
“Really? So it hasn’t been me here with you every single day, trying to get you to talk about it, trying to get you to do more physical therapy so that you’ll be walking sooner? Hasn’t been me practically pouring your potions down your throat? It hasn’t been me upstairs listening to you crying yourself to sleep every night on this sofa rather than coming to bed or confiding in me, your husband? I think I know something about the hell you’ve been through!”
“It’s not the same thing. You don’t understand.” Harry sighed. He sounded resigned and Draco wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.
“No, maybe you’re right, but maybe I never will if you continue to shut me out.” Draco sighed heavily and sat in the armchair opposite him; maybe this was useless.
“I don’t know how to let you in. I hate myself. Don’t you get that? I fucking hate myself and every day as I sit here, instead of being out there with you and our son…” Harry’s voice broke and he stared at Draco with wide, terrified eyes.
They sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another. They had reached an impasse. Harry had admitted more than he had meant to, and was terrified of how vulnerable this made him. He was so used to looking after Draco and Nicky; he was so used to being strong for everyone that he didn’t know how to deal with breaking down in the way he had. He didn’t know how to ask for help either.
“Our son is growing every single day, and he doesn’t know you,” Draco whispered sadly.
“I know.” Harry sighed and stared back at his husband resolutely.
“I can’t live like this, Harry. You need help. I will not bring up our son in a house with this much tension. He’s five months old and he already notices. If this carries on, he’s going to grow up being terrified of you,” Draco said softly and watched as pain became clearly etched across Harry’s face. He knew before they had decided to have a baby that Harry had agonised over whether or not he would make a good father and Draco hoped that his last statement would finally hit home.
“I…Draco…I’ve missed him; he’s got so big and…”
Draco heard Harry’s voice crack and he couldn’t stop himself from standing and making his way across to Harry. Before his husband could protest, he straddled his thighs, careful not to put any pressure on Harry’s injury. Draco could feel Harry shaking. His words had obviously made an impact, and Harry looked petrified. Draco reached up and tentatively pushed a lock of hair back from Harry’s forehead. Harry flinched for a moment, but soon relaxed a little. Their eyes met and Draco leaned forward to press their foreheads together.
“Don’t you miss me too?” Draco whispered. This was the closest they had been since Harry’s accident. They had barely touched, let alone exchanged kisses, and Draco couldn’t help himself. He pressed a small, chaste kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth.
“Of course I’ve missed you,” Harry whined sadly and Draco couldn’t help but smile softly.
“Then things have got to change.” Draco stared into the deep green of Harry’s eyes and he finally saw recognition there.
“I’ll talk to Healer Montgomery about seeing a counsellor tomorrow, and I’ll do those extra physical therapy classes you’ve been telling me about.” Harry swallowed thickly and attempted to smile.
“And you’ll stop wallowing and be with your family?” Draco pushed.
“Yes, I’ll stop wallowing. I can’t promise I’ll be a ray of sunshine, but I’ll try…” Harry sighed softly.
Draco could see the corners of his mouth twitching and it made the weight in his chest lighten a little. His Harry was still in there. Things would not be resolved overnight, but they would get better.
“You’ll come to bed with me now?” Draco whispered and pressed a firmer kiss to Harry’s lips.
“Yes, but why don’t you get Nicky? I want to be with both of my boys this evening, and when he’s fallen asleep maybe we could…” Harry coughed uncomfortably and Draco couldn’t help but smile.
“We’ll see. Stay there. I’ll be right back.” Draco smiled genuinely for the first time in two months and pushed back off of the sofa and Harry’s legs. In two steps, he was in front of the fireplace when Harry called his name.
“I’m so sorry, Draco.” Harry’s voice was thick with emotion and it made Draco stop for a second and turn back to him. He smiled at his husband, the Harry he loved, the man he finally recognised in the face that had seemed so much like a stranger’s recently. And in that moment, he knew they would be fine.