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quotes from ‘grounds for divorce’ by tepre | pfp by relativestress; header by zeziliazink

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All hearts are fools in love.

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this is the end. goodbye💔

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He’d thought he’d given himself honestly and truthfully, and at worst had only been struggling with how to get the words out — not with the emotion itself.

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Draco pinched the fabric of Harry’s shirt, tugged, asked, "Is this mine?"

Harry looked down at himself. "Yes," he said, and then laughed at Draco’s blushing outrage. He asked Draco whether or not it looked good on him, and Draco said that wasn’t the point.

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Then watching Draco congratulate Hermione by the Christmas tree, a pretty blush on his cheeks, his hair pulled back from his face. His breath-taking heart attack of a face.

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"Amazing," Harry whispered again, a while later, kissing the line of Draco’s jaw. His cheek, over his closed eyes. "Genius. Life-changing."

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When Draco arrived, walking into the kitchen with a small suitcase in hand — checking for mail, chewing on an apple — he took one look at the small party in his garden, put down his suitcase and his apple, and walked right back out.

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"I’m sorry, am I boring you?"

Draco had come to stand by the hearth. His hair was a mess, his sleeves rolled up. Desire coiled tight at the pit of Harry’s stomach. There was no hum, no tug, no foreign magic.

Harry smiled, slow and tired, and said, "No. I like it when you talk."

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Harry ached. Did he remember seeing Draco in any sort of pain back then? Could he have noticed, even if Draco had shown any sign of it?

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He kissed him, a smiling press of lips, and Draco laughed into it, lips moving as he still talked, muffled, saying,

"—embarrassing, every word that comes out of your mouth, I—"

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He’d thought he’d given himself honestly and truthfully, and at worst had only been struggling with how to get the words out — not with the emotion itself.

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Low in his stomach, the Bond surged up ugly and loud — an acidic lash up his spine, demanding he move, that he stride, that he break and destroy whatever was happening between Malfoy and Charlie. Harry had to close his eyes at it, breathe.

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Harry had put a hand to his waist. He was so warm under Harry’s touch. So dear.

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"We’re not having sex in the archives," Draco said, not even looking up.

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Harry had to swallow a few times. Everything felt like syrup again. Slow and terrifying.

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Draco kissed him. He kissed him and kissed him and wouldn’t let a single word be uttered, moving and urging Harry with his hands.

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"There was a part of me, I’ll tell you — a small, twisted part that thought: now he’ll have to want me. Now he won’t have a choice but to want me. But you never did, did you? It was never you."

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They both looked up, and Draco smiled at the ceiling — a little private thing.

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How could love be proven in the span of a sentence? How could he use words, slippery things that they were, when what he needed was to tread carefully, lightly? He only knew how to walk through a wall. He only knew how to fall, how to crash.

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He timed it so that just as he shot a quick glance back, Monty was swinging the door closed — his hand on the small of Draco’s back, moving to place a kiss on Draco’s neck.

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Their legs slotted together, chests pressed, and Harry thought he might expire — might melt against the wall, into Draco’s hot hell of a mouth.