Chapter Text
Draco frowns at nothing. His skin feels too tight; like he might burst out of it. He looks outside the window at the night-darkened cityscape below his flat and wants to open the door to a lush field, kick off his shoes, and run.
He feels his leg start to bounce where it lies tangled with the other one on the couch. He flexes his foot, to remind himself he’s still whole, as he bites at his chapped bottom lip.
Fuck.
A warm hand wraps around his wrist, and he startles, realizing suddenly that his fingers are threaded through his hair and clenching tightly. He also opens his eyes, which is another surprise since he hadn’t realized he’d closed them, but he blinks to find that warm hand on his wrist attached to Harry.
Draco lets go of his hair. Harry gently—so slowly and gently—brings both of Draco’s hands into his own and up to his lips.