Waiting

Dinner was a quiet affair. He did not say much. I hardly ate. Just twirled my pasta over and over on my fork. I heard him sigh, and when I looked up, his eyes were fixed on me.

"Harry, you should eat."

"Not hungry."

He didn't argue. His food was barely touched either. He took a sip of water and I could tell it was just to give his hands something to do.

I looked at the blue stripes around the edges of my plate. "They'll know tomorrow?"

He nodded. "I have to go in. I don't... want to hear it over the phone. Whatever it is."

I said nothing.

"You're working tomorrow, yeah?"

I nodded, glancing at him. He looked away. I sat for a moment, and then rose and dumped my plate of pasta into the rubbish bin. He watched me the whole time as I rinsed the plate and then placed it in the sink and leaned against the counter. A deep breath.

"I'm going to bed," I said. The flatness of my voice surprised even me. Then my legs could move and I went past him to the door. Caught myself on the frame.

"Draco, could - could you..."

He rose without a word and took my hand, led me down the hall to our bedroom. He sat against the headboard, folding his long legs beneath him and pulled me gently against his body. Tugged the blanket up over us. I was still in my dress shirt, untucked from my trousers. I laid my head just over his breastbone and tried to breathe normally.

I wanted to sleep. I could tell he did too, but that was impossible for both of us. His body was warm, so warm. I could not help imagining what it would feel like if the warmth left, and I jerked in an attempt to keep my sudden gasp unnoticeable.

He noticed.

"Harry, I... I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be."

His fingers plucked at the blanket. "I wish I hadn't been such an ass. If I'd just thought for a few minutes, this wouldn't even be an issue!"

I was finding it harder to talk without something else coming out. His body gave a helpless shudder and I squeezed tighter.

"I've always been such an arrogant prick. I might as well have been asking for it, but... but we were kids, it was supposed to be-- Jason wasn't supposed to get sick. And it was so long ago, we weren't supposed to have to worry about this kind of--"

"Draco, stop it. There's nothing--" Tears pricked my eyelids and I bit my tongue. He was so warm, his face so warm under my fingers and the idea of cold replacing that was too much, and I needed him. I turned his head, met his mouth with mine. He gave a soft moan and stiffened, then leaned into it desperately and gathered me to him, and it was warm everywhere, and I could forget, push it aside for long enough to--

His hands were on my shirt, unbuttoning, running his fingers against my throat. I pushed my body into his. My hands were not my own; they scrabbled with his shirt, his belt buckle, his face, and he suddenly gave a low cry and pulled backward, standing, moving away from the bed. His clothing was rumpled and his eyes were glimmering with barely contained tears.

"I'm... going to sleep on the couch."

I let him go in rigid silence and did not move until he shut the bedroom door behind him. Then I collapsed on the bed, feeling the warmth of his body drifting away under my fingertips, and cried.

* * *

I dreamed about Jason that night. I'd never met the man, but in my mind he looked like Blaise Zabini: dark curly hair, tall, with a half-smile I envied, even though Draco had told me time and again I had one to rival it. Draco had not seen Jason for three years. And then that phone call. It just was not fair.

When I woke, he had already gone to work. Where I should be. I had the sense of someone entering the room in the blue light of early morning as I slept, but it was vague and I had not woken. I made a breakfast I did not eat, got dressed, and Disapparated, only to Apparate back a moment later, my whole body shaking. I couldn't be at work. I felt like I could not breathe.

I'd gotten my results two days ago, but they had done nothing to ease me because he sat there, face carefully blank after the initial relief had faded, and asked after his. I told him the doctors needed another two days. I'd demanded to know why but they would not say more than It's just a formality, a hold-up in the lab.

He'd tried to be cheery that day but I watched the false emotion bleed out of both of us until silence was the only comfort we had left.

I sat on the couch, wrapping a patchwork quilt from the Weasleys around my body, and stared at the wall. The clock ticked monotonously and I waited.

* * *

I heard the door shut in the front hallway, muted by the ominous blanket of stillness that filled the house, and rose, moving silently to the living room doorway. He stood there by the closed front door, his long black winter coat hanging past his knees and stared blankly at something before him, blinking a few times. His hair was slicked with the wet snowfall outside, and as I watched, the remaining snowflakes lingering on his eyelashes melted away. He raised one hand in front of his face and it was trembling.

His body shuddered violently. At first I thought it was laughter, but his face crumpled. He slid down the door to the floor, his thin frame shaking with sobs, and buried his face in his hands.

And the world fell away beneath my feet.

"Oh... god--" My voice was choked, someone else's. His eyes jerked up, red-rimmed and full. His astonishment at seeing me there was obvious. I sagged against the doorframe, clutching at it, but it would not support me. Suddenly, I knew that nothing would support me.

He was on his feet in an instant, eyes wide and dark in his pale face. He caught me mid-fall and knelt, scooping me into his arms. I could feel his hands running through my hair, over my face. "Harry, Harry, wait a minute, no--"

"Oh god oh god oh god..." It was all I could say. Over and over, a prayer come too late. The irony of it filled my eyes with tears. He shushed me in a soft voice, rocking me gently.

"Harry, shhh, it's not what you think, I'm sorry, I didn't... you were supposed to be at work."

I clung to him, whispering my mantra into the damp shoulder of his coat. He leaned back, took my face in his hands, and shook me once. "Harry, it's okay, it's okay. I'm negative, it's alright!"

I blinked at him, feeling my heart jerk in my chest. "You're... then why were you--"

He exhaled and raised his eyes to the ceiling, pulling me close again with both hands. "Oh, god, Harry, I didn't know you would be here. I walked all the way from the doctor's not feeling anything. You were supposed to be at work, and I... I got inside and smelled our home, and-- and you, and I couldn't... hold it back anymore. But I'm not crying, really, it's relief, Harry. I'm alright, I promise you, I swear. I didn't mean to scare you, I thought you weren't home..."

Sobs took my body then and I grabbed his face, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. He let me, found my lips with his every so often, and they were burning warm and salty-tasting from his tears. I could hear him whispering softly.

"I just... didn't fall apart until... I've been in a daze all day, all week... It wasn't until I opened the front door that I realized that they weren't saying that I was negative, they were saying I was the luckiest bastard alive because I could touch you again, I could kiss you again, I could make love to you, and... not hurt you. And I had to... I just collapsed..."

"I thought... I thought you were..."

He cursed himself under his breath and kissed me so deeply my head swam. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never meant to scare you. I was going to... make dinner or... I was going to have everything ready when you came home so I could tell you, but--"

"No," I gasped, interrupting him. "I don't want dinner. I want you. Now. Draco--"

He stood with a ragged moan and lifted me, locking his mouth on mine. His steps were strong and sure down the hall, and he let me down onto our bed softly, not breaking the kiss, crawling up over me until his warmth was pressed against me fully. I had never felt anything so glorious, and it stung the raw injuries of the past week, a gentle throbbing burn that reminded me I was still alive, and that he was.

He removed my clothing with a sensuousness that made me ache, his hands shaking slightly, his mouth traveling over me as if he wanted to devour me. I clung to him tightly, feeling his skin becoming slick with exertion and fought back sudden tears. He raised himself fluidly from my now-naked body and reached for his trousers where they lay haphazardly half off the bed. I saw him pull a small packet out of one pocket. He looked at it wonderingly for a long moment and I stilled, looked as well, let the silence flow over us both.

His eyes met mine, dark grey, blond hair falling over them in a soft wave. He licked his lips. "Harry, I know we're both completely clean but... I feel like I..."

I nodded and clasped his hand, weaving our fingers together. "I know."

He looked at me and then lowered his head slowly and found my mouth, tasting me, forgetting my body for that moment as he ran his hands over my hair and face. My eyelids. Lips. When he pulled back, I saw determination and calm filling his irises. "I'm never taking any chances again." He paused and fixed his eyes on me.

"Not with you."