ricochet
rated M | warning for off-screen gun violence, and hearing loss | 396 words | thank you @the-starryknight for your love on this one 💕
Greenway, Harry replies. In Magical Creatures, Kingsley discovered he’s been altering the Wolfsbane, you know how they only allow it to come from the Ministry now. Fatal.
Harry’s fingers are familiar with signing now; Draco insisted they learn when they found out the hard way not to trust a Silencing charm. Then a rogue Bombarda in Milan wrecked Draco’s entire right eardrum and part of his left, so signing became something close to necessity anyway.
Bastard. Draco’s mouth twists as he picks at the ratty hotel duvet, and Harry wonders if Draco knew this is where he would end up when he took refuge in the Order. Seven years later and still fighting a war, with a Mark on his arm that he never wanted. Harry tries to look at it sometimes, but Draco never lets him, even when he’s stripped to the skin and pretty as a pearl under Harry’s hands.
“Why?” Harry had asked once, pulling away from pale, sweat-slick skin so Draco could read his lips. “Why won’t you let me look?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m bad,” Draco replied aloud.
I watched you blow a man’s brains out with a handgun yesterday, Harry wanted to tell him, but instead he just kissed the vulnerable spot under Draco’s ear and said, “You’re the best man I know.”
A loud snap pulls Harry back to the present. Focus, Draco signs, his motions sharp in the way that means he’s terrified. Losing focus means losing your life, in this role they’ve been thrown into, and Harry can see the worry stamped on Draco’s brow.
No, Draco says, you’re not. He sighs soundlessly, and Harry stands from the desk chair and sinks down on the hard mattress, his body overlapping Draco’s.
I love you, Harry signs. Draco tenses– he hates hearing it, especially before a mission. He thinks it’s too final. Harry thinks it’s hopeful. Love, this love, will last beyond either of them.
Harry doesn’t back down. I love you.
Harry, Draco signs firmly. His hand dips towards his heart at the end of Harry’s name, a sweetness that he pretends isn’t purposeful.
Draco cracks, slumping towards Harry. He presses his lips against Harry’s neck, mouthing something silently, but Harry doesn’t need to hear the words to know the truth of them.
