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fukurodaze · 3 years

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five stars: part 4 | four days

IT’S EMBARRASSING: a third year cheerleader!reader x second year athlete!suna au

wc + genre: 4.7k, fluff + drama <3 warnings: cursing, burnout

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more. more. more.

faster blocks. louder voices. stronger spikes.

the interhigh is in four days.

the cheerleaders have begun rehearsing along to the players, shouting rhythmically to every point taken from each side of the practice court. the room is intense, filled with sweat and ambition to rise to the top - whoever jumps higher, hits harder, wins.

suna rintarou is no exception.

“nice, sunarin!” a voice sounds.

out of all the days in which he plays, they tell him today’s the best. on point, just in time, lightning speed, they say. he’s pleased with his own performance, momentarily, before he’s off to ask one of the second years if they’re down for another round of practice. when atsumu says yes, he’s up on the balls of his feet, ready to jump some more times.

aside, there’s a voice that calls your name. kouno yuki, the captain of the team, stands by your duffle bag, waiting for you.

“earth to y/n?” she shakes your arm when she comes closer, finding that you’ve fallen asleep against the wall of the gym. she sits down beside you, poking your shoulder.

“hey.”

there is a throaty groan.

“y/n~”

you stir.

“suna’s watching.”

“wait, what?” your eyes flutter open, body stretching at the sudden wake. you see how your co-captain doubles down in held back laughter, choking down a giggle present in the creases of her eyes.

“nothing, nothing. i was waiting for you so we could store the uniforms together, but i think i’ll just do it with sato-san.”

“oh, okay,” you nod, eyes drifting back down to close. the volleyball team is still practicing, and though it’s loud, the sound of shoes sliding against polished wood suddenly becomes relaxing when you’re as tired as you are. you thank yuki for the fix and she smiles at you with a sympathetic look in her eyes.

the next time you wake up, your eyes are forced open when a volleyball comes close to your head.

“shit! sorry!” the boy you recognise as ginjima hitoshi from some of suna’s stories is bowing on a fourty-five degree angle, face cringing in regret. he jogs lightly to pick up the ball and bring it back but suna sends him a look and a thumb, telling him that he’ll get it instead.

when suna approaches you in all his 185 centimetre glory, there is a sort of gleam that radiates off of him. you’re not sure if it’s the smirk at how flustered you are or the sheen of sweat covering his skin, but it makes a heat rise up your neck at how close he is when he leans in and squats over you to retrieve the ball.

then again, you’ve been burning up all day.

“are you okay?” suna’s voice is low and almost a whisper.

“what?” you shake your head, “yeah, yeah. i’m fine. don’t worry.”

he nods and picks up the ball. you watch as he slowly steps away, so you call, “suna?”

he looks back with nonchalance.

“walk me to the bus stop?”

the answer is ‘always’.

early august is when the summer begins to cool down, signalling the latter half of the year to come. your summer uniforms no longer stick to your skin with heat, but lie loosely on shoulders and limbs as short sleeves made of thin material.

still, you feel hot.

it’s one thing to be tired and lethargic, but it’s another to feel like your eyes are begging to close and your hands are searching for something to cover.

suna notices this in the way that you’re talking less on a friday night and how you’re walking in unsure lines. he wishes he had brought a hoodie or sweater with him.

the sky has become a deeper indigo after practice, and though the lights have turned on, it doesn’t seem like your vision is alright, either. you continue to stumble and mumble out words that suna can only make out as assurances of “i’m okay” and “don’t worry.” of course he worries.

“we’re almost at the bus stop,” suna’s hand lingers around your wrist, unsure of whether you need it or not.

still, you grab it, and it makes a world of a difference when you begin to lean on him. he feels your temperature, feverish yet freezing, and he makes sure to hold you up until the bus stop.

“actually,” you try your best to talk coherently, “can i walk you home?”

suna furrows his brows, “what do you mean?”

“i’ll tell my mom that i’m staying over at a friend’s. it’s fine.”

suna questions your resolve at staying over at his place, especially when you’re sick. he knows he can’t take care of you like your mother might. and yet, he’s always weak to your requests, seemingly unable to say no whenever you ask him.

“okay,” he tells you, and he feels the arm around his hand wrap tighter. it reminds him of that one night on the bus.

“wait, lemme carry your bag.”

you look up at him from where you’re slouching, “hm? oh. sure.”

now he has a backpack and a duffel bag slung across his torso, your arm linked to his as you two walk along the sidewalk outside of school. it hasn’t been long since the two of you left, but the night seems to come earlier despite it being only august.

the walk grows silent, characterised by heavy breathing from your end and concerned looks from his. you stare at the ground, where the rubble and asphalt are sometimes withered, and try to match up your steps to the boy’s, focusing on the one-two-one-two of your feet.

it’s only a five minute walk to suna’s place, and you thank heavens that it is, for by the time he opens his door, you’re stumbling into the room and holding onto the sofa, eyes asking for permission to lay down.

he nods, unsure if his sofa’s even comfortable enough for you to sleep on. he feels weird, and wonders if you’d be in good hands when you return home on a saturday morning from a “friend”’s house. would you be in trouble if your mother found out you had resorted to staying at a boy’s place with a fever?

it’s like you almost hear his thoughts, “don’t worry, suna, one good night’s sleep and i’m going to be good.”

“but you haven’t had dinner?” suna hates how he sounds like a parent.

you whimper, tossing and turning on your back, “okay.”

with that, suna begins to wait for his rice cooker as he pulls out a packet of instant miso soup, hoping that something warm would help you sleep better. it takes a short amount of time for him to pour in the hot water and paste, mixing it in a bowl, before keeping it still on the table while waiting for the rice.

in the meantime, he makes himself another bowl of instant miso soup, hands going on autopilot as his mind drifts off into a frenzy of thoughts. will you be okay? will this be okay? how long have you been unwell for? are you overworking yourself? he’s never even seen you at the school canteen. how often have you been eating?

the questions rattling his mind are interrupted by the beeping of the rice cooker. he opens its lid and is introduced to steam, still hot when he reaches in with a spatula to scoop some rice for you.

he brings the food to the table in front of the sofa with a warm glass of water. tapping your shoulder to remind you, he’s hesitant to have you wake up after you’ve finally laid still.

“for me?” you squint.

“yeah. for you.” suna has his food right next to yours, thinking he might make you feel a little bit better if you’re not eating alone.

when you shimmy yourself down from the sofa, the two of you coexist in silence once more, the only sounds being chewing and gulping down soup or water. none of you mind, really, although it’s not what usually happens when the two of you are spending time together, usually filled with banter and, more recently, flirtatious remarks.

suna wonders if he’ll ever get to embrace you soon. your figure cowers as you eat, sometimes leaning on the front of the sofa for support. he should embrace you. he wants to embrace you. he doesn’t embrace you.

when you try your best to finish your meal, he tells you you’re doing great. suna’s surprised those words even come out of him, seeing as he’s never really congratulated anyone outside of volleyball before, but your soft smile tells him everything he needs to know.

thank you.

you lift yourself back up onto the sofa, curling up. suna gets you a wool blanket, a spare from his room, and covers you with it. he sees you smile again.

suna puts away the dishes, leaving them in the sink for doing tomorrow. he’s still in his school uniform, and so are you. by the likes of eight-thirty in the evening, he can tell you’re just about ready to pass out into sleep.

until he hears your voice.

“you’re so great, suna.”

there is no other voice but yours.

“you let me sleep on the bus, found me that morning on the bleachers, helped me with my work,” you trail off, but suna keeps listening.

“you take care of me,” you tumble through your words, turning as you lay, “i guess that’s why i like you.”

suna freezes.

it’s a gamble, whether or not you’re awake, but he decides. there is silence in the air and the smell of warm miso soup wafting against the walls, and he tells you something he’s never cared to tell anyone before.

“i like you too. goodnight.”

suna feels his heart beating in his ears all night.

he twists under his covers. shit.

does this mean we’re dating now?

“suna?”

the boy almost jumps when he sees you in the morning, peeking through his bedroom door.

“oh, right. y/n.”

his heart still beats in seemingly uneven patterns in his chest, the memory of last night still fresh in his mind. there is only one question in his mind: do you remember it as much as he does?

“um, i’m all better now. so-”

“that’s good,” suna’s stomach growls. he lifts himself out of his bed, squeezing through the doorframe where you’re leaning. you don’t miss the way he leans into you, just slightly, the deeper baritone of his morning voice sounding further into your ears as he groans and walks out.

he stops at the table, however, and his face almost turns entirely red in surprise.

“you made this?”

you come up to the table, urging him to take a seat. breakfast: leftover rice and fish from yesterday’s lunch and dinner. suna remembers how his mother would always urge him to eat fish for breakfast, even sending him cuts of frozen fish from time to time.

“i wanted to thank you for yesterday, at least. i’m sorry if i’m intruding, or something.”

suna shakes his head, “no, you’re not.”

“that’s- that’s good then.”

breakfast fizzles into silence as you take a seat across the table, the air somehow stuffy. was it the fact that you had stayed over? had you burdened him by being sick? did you miss out on something?

mornings are never usually this quiet, but suna eats with a wholesomeness that makes you swoon. you’ve started to think that his mind is full when his mouth is devoid of words, and that his mind is only clear when his mouth is full. it’s cute, you think, how his bed hair seems to look more tame than his usual hair, or how his bed shorts are a bright red.

“you staring?”

you return to your food, “never in a million years.”

“that’s a pretty long time.”

you hum in a half-joke, cringing inwardly at your own words.

“hey, uh,” suna hesitate, wondering what had happened that made the two of you so stiff, “can i take you home?”

you’re really missing something here.

here’s what you’d expect: the boy walks you home, leaves you at the bus stop. what you’re getting is miles away from it.

“suna, are you okay with this?”

suna does a double take between you and his phone, “sure. why wouldn’t i be?”

“i don’t know, i’m…” you don’t know how to continue your sentence. i’m not wearing anything underneath your hoodie, you want to tell him, but you’re not quite sure about his reaction.

“what?” he shakes his head, “anyways, i was the one that offered my clothes to you. no big deal.”

“right, no big deal.”

“now, c’mon, we walking you home or not?” he opens the door, and you scoot outside slowly, waiting for him as he locks the door. when he finishes, he comes to you, closer, and intertwines his hand in yours.

his hand, in yours. what?

“s-suna, the bus!” you blurt out in surprise.

suna hums in a question, “yeah, what? we’re taking the bus, right?”

you glance down at where your hands are connected, “right. i’ll pay.”

he lets you pay for the tickets this time, the bus ride keeping you company with caring conversation and, of course, a comforting hand.

you had never thought you would be getting so close to this boy so quick, and yet here you were, taking him to your house on a saturday morning.

you wonder how your parents would react to you hanging off a boy’s arm like this.

when you two reach your stop, the sky is sunny, seemingly cooler with the way suna’s damp and newly-washed hair shines in the light. you tell him things, jokes, little stories about your childhood as you stroll through the neighbourhood. you care to take him the long way home, unsure if the butterflies in your stomach would subside if you spent some time holding them off.

"are you doing anything after the interhigh?” suna asks eagerly.

“well, the cultural festival is coming up. and honoka’s leaving, so i’ll take her to the airport and everything.”

“oh,” suna mumbles, “that’s cool.”

you shrug, “i guess so.”

he looks at you for longer than usual, “i’ll miss you.”

you bite your lip in attempt to hide your surprise, “don’t try to miss me too much! besides, i’m not going anywhere.”

you notice that you can’t make eye contact with the boy in fears of being flustered even more. yet, he picks up on it, “are you flustered?”

“and if i was?”

“that’s no problem. we’re, you know.”

“we’re... what?”

“you know...” his voice softens, “dating.”

your eyebrows furrow immediately, your hand unknowingly slipping from his grip, “wait, we are?”

“i thought you remembered.”

“remembered what?”

“last night, when we said we liked each other. do you not feel that way anymore?” suna shoves his hands in his shorts pockets, the embarrassment creeping up his face.

“wait, i don’t get it!” you wave your hands around in confusion, “i mean, i do... feel... that way... but i was sick! i didn’t remember anything, of course.”

“oh god.”

“you’re not mad, are you?”

the boy shakes his head, “no, i’m just- really embarrassed.”

you peer at suna, who has his hand covering his face, head titled up, shadow long against the sun. the kids around the area gaze up at his tall figure, and then at you, recognising your face from the neighbourhood.

one of them even comes close to you, and you recognise him as the boy who lives two blocks away from you, “nee-san, is that your boyfriend?”

you look back, and one glance at suna has you close to letting out a loud snicker. you bend down, arms crossing into the hoodie he lent you today, “we’ll see.”

suna doesn’t know whether to laugh or smile when the little boy bursts into tears, mumbling a string of inaudible words that he can only guess spell out an unrequited love.

you return to suna, walking in silence at first. now it’s his turn to be confused.

“so i’m ‘we’ll see’?”

“reciprocated feelings don’t always equal dating, suna,” you say.

“yeah, sorry i-”

you speak first, “and i’m thinking about it. s’not a bad offer, y’know?”

“oh, shut up.”

“you’re telling me to what now?”

suna leans over to one side, quickly saying, “hey, isn’t this your house? the birdbath?”

“oh, definitely.” you have your hands on your hips, the playful air that you’re so used to having returned, “my house is number twenty, dumbass.”

“you’re calling me a what now?” he mocks.

you hit him on the shoulder, lightly, a hint of a flirt in your touch.

there is comfort stored into the space between the two of you once more, and it eases you to know things would always come back to the way they were between you two. maybe there is an added sort of suggestion, in the way his hand twitches when he stares at you, or the way you seem to love folding your arms against his hoodie.

“anyways. we’re here. wanna meet my mom?”

“do i have a choice?”

you smile, “nope.”

as the two of you enter the house, your hand lets go of his, unconsciously on purpose, arms to the side. suna feels as if his heart beats even louder, seeing your house, and, eventually, your mother.

she peeks out from the living room, rushing to the front door as soon as you announce your presence. she takes you in her arms with a soft smile on your face, glancing at suna once before turning to you to ask how last night was.

“is this the friend you were staying over with last night?” she whispers in your ear in a disbelieving tone, “you stayed over at a boy’s place?”

suna hears exactly what she’s saying. he swears there’s some sweat dripping down his temple.

you clear your throat, hand extending to introduce the boy. “mom, this is suna rintarou. he’s going to be playing at the interhigh i’m cheering at.”

“ah, a volleyball player! i think i might even recognise you...”

suna nods, bows. he introduces himself in the most formal way he’s ever known, which brings a cheeky smile on your mother’s face. it’s almost funny to see a ninety degree bow from someone so tall, she thinks, seeing how his seemingly scary or off putting demeanour had changed so quickly in front of her eyes.

“have you two had breakfast already?” your mother asks, to which the both of you nod. your mother smirks, and it makes you wonder why.

“anyways, just take a seat in the living room,” she motions, hand waving at the room from which the television sounds come from.

“oh, mom, do we still have those cookies?”

you mother chuckles darkly. you furrow your brows.

“alright then… i’ll get them…?” you walk out to the kitchen as your mother leads suna into the living room. she sits on the armchair across the room after suna sits awkwardly on the edge of the couch.

there is some silence as she watches the morning soap opera, eyes only flitting to the boy once the advertisements come on. once they do, though, suna becomes bombarded with questions and conversation.

“so you’re on the starting team?”

suna nods, “yes. i play middle blocker.”

“ah, that’s why you’re so tall! then again, volleyball players are so tall…”

your mother’s remark reminds him of that one time you had whispered it under your breath. your voices sound too similar for him not to smile.

suna shifts backwards, letting himself lean into the back of the couch, though his limbs still lay stiffly along the cushions.

“have you ever played against, what was that team’s name- from tokyo!” your mother thinks, “the school sounded a lot like an animal…”

suna tries not to tense up, “uh, itachiyama?”

“hmm, no, i’ve heard of them, but not them…”

“fukurodani?”

“right! fukurodani! i’ve seen them so many times when i watch nationals that i can’t help but love to watch their plays! of course, inarizaki is great too, because now we have an even better starting team. have you ever played against those guys?”

suna nods, “yes, we have. most people have heard of their ace, bokuto koutarou.”

your mother gleefully places her hand in front of her mouth before speaking, “i do love the energy that boy brings. he’s even announced that he’s going to the v-league!”

suna lets out a breathy laugh, “right.”

your mother retracts herself, “oh, sorry, i keep getting carried away when it comes to volleyball. y/n always chooses to go to the volleyball games so i keep watching them… i didn’t know it could be so fun… are you planning on entering the v-league, rintarou?”

he stirs, shrugging, “ah… it’s still a faraway decision.”

“well, i can tell you have some talent. i remember you were the one that was subbed in as a first year in the previous nationals, right?”

suna nods as your mother recalls the way inarizaki had risen up to the semi finals with their subbed in first years. it brings a swell of pride in his chest, having been so long since people actually complimented him on his plays.

“if you do want to go to the v-league though, please don’t overwork yourself,” your mother brings up.

suna raises an eyebrow at the sudden statement. your mother continues, “our y/n here does so much that it’s landed her sick in many ways. especially as a third year and everything, and now that her best friend is moving, you know, it’s a bit shaky.”

“right, she’s told me a little bit about it.” suna looks down, fiddling with his fingers. he hates hearing the little things about how you push yourself too hard. it’s a temporarily heavy feeling at first, knowing about your constant lack of sleep and food. and now your best friend’s moving out? suna finds that he wants to warm you up in his embrace to tell you it’ll all be fine - he just doesn’t know how. at least, not yet.

“if you do work as hard as y/n, make sure you eat enough and sleep enough, okay? i can’t count the times i’ve nagged that girl to get to bed or eat her breakfast-”

“were you guys talking about me?” you barge into the room, a plate of cookies ready in your hand. you groan, “also, mom, you didn’t tell me we finished the cookies!”

“i never said we did have the cookies in the first place.”

you mutter under your breath, “what is it with people doing that to me?”

still, you seat yourself on the couch next to suna, legs crossed, cookie in hand. your mother squints, “i’ve never seen you wear that hoodie.”

suna feels his hands grow warm.

“yeah, i’m borrowing it for a short while.” you glance at suna right after speaking, causing even more teasing looks from your mother.

“anyways, as i was saying, this girl never eats breakfast!” she begins, “and tell her to sleep earlier next time. at least ten o’clock!”

“mom, come on,” you curl up on the couch.

“it’s okay, mrs. l/n, she slept early yesterday. eight-thirty, actually.”

there is an amused look on your mother’s face. you don’t tell her it’s because you had a fever. there is a lack of conversation as your mother begins to focus her attention back on the soap opera on the television.

but she does say out loud, “i’m so glad you two did it.”

the room fills with the sound of the soap opera. you think for a little bit.

“did what?”

“ate breakfast, of course.”

“right.” you try not to choke on your cookie.

the rest of the morning passes as suna begins to feel himself loosen up at your house, finding the couch extremely comfortable and the soap opera weirdly entertaining. there is mindless talk of the interhighs on monday, and the three of you discuss preparations, strategies, venues. when your mother isn’t looking, suna finds his hand looping around your smaller thumb, a warm feeling blooming from the touch.

when your mother does look, however, she looks at suna, and then she looks at you.

“mom? the episode’s back on,” you call.

there is a genuine ear to ear smile on her face, eyes narrowing and shoulders relaxing.

“mom?”

shaking her head, she blinks repeatedly, “i’m so happy you ate breakfast today.”

your mouth parts in a wordless whisper, a glance at suna telling you he’s happy, too.

“see you on monday” is the last thing you hear from suna that week. when he hugs you as he leaves, he tells you he likes it; that he feels warm.

you don’t tell him that you’re still burning up.

on tuesday, the sun shines too bright for your liking even when you’re shielded by the large bus’ thick windows and air conditioner. your eyes feel hot, hotter than usual, and your feet need an extra amount of blankets to stop shivering.

it doesn’t show, though, and you make sure it doesn’t. it’s only a week, you tell yourself, you can manage. you had to admit the weekend wasn’t any better than friday night, but you promise yourself to sleep early. it hasn’t always been working, though.

so you try to distract yourself. you know the volleyball players had gone a day earlier, and that their opening ceremony is today, but you also know that the ceremony ends at lunch and the next match is only tomorrow.

your phone dings once more.

from suna: hru

to suna: cold :( the bus is so damn cold but it’s so hot outside ughh

from suna: ill lend u my jacket later ye

to suna: thank u. hows the opening?

from suna: fuckin cool wish u were there

you scoff. yuki, who’s sitting beside you, sneaks on your shoulder, “aw, he wishes you were there!”

you jump in surprise, “yuki! don’t do that!”

“you know, i didn’t expect him to be that dry.”

“okay, he’s not that dry,” you defend.

“really? is he? love is blinding, y/n.”

the bus comes to a stop, and you continue to text the boy. yuki stands up to tell everyone to bring their bags down, and that the other volleyball coach will be on standby at the hotel to check in for the cheer team. you follow suit, taking your bags and coming out of the bus. you’re greeted once more by the scorching sun, the heat on your head making you feel dizzy.

focus, you tell yourself, focus on the screen, at least.

from suna: im coming back to the hotel

to suna: omo… buy me food

from suna: hmm

to suna: cmon dont be shy

from suna: only if you buy me twice as much

meanwhile, suna’s got his jacket and backpack on, ready to go back. atsumu walks next to him, testing his patience at not sneaking a peek at suna’s phone, trying too hard to start a conversation with kita beside him.

atsumu does wonder what goes on in the chat. maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to see…

to suna: my god okay maybe we can get like

there’s no response. you’re not even typing. was that the end of the sentence? he closes his phone for a moment.

he gets a notification on his phone a second later.

to suna: hi, this is yuki. something bad just happened to y/n.

“holy shit,” atsumu mutters under his breath, “suna, is your girlfriend okay?”

“atsumu, you don’t just… do that.”

“shit, sorry.”

“it’s fine,” suna sighs. there is a pang in his chest and a struggling sentence of ‘i knew it’ swimming in his mind, worry seeping from the screen to his fingers. suna pockets his phone as quickly as he reads the message, a huff leaving his lips and a quicker, rougher pace developing in his step.

“we just need to go to the hotel.”

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as always, thank you to @yooroomi for beta reading this series!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #hqradiostation #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #hq scenarios #hq fluff #haikyuu imagines #suna rintarou #haikyuu!! x reader #suna fluff #suna imagines #suna x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna scenarios

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alindakb · 3 years

Text

Silent Tears - Chapter 3.3 - by Alinda

Teddy sits in front of the coffee table. His crayons spread out over the entire surface, a blank piece of parchment in front of him. Two finished drawings lay next to Draco on the sofa. The first one is a dragon, the one Harry had defeated when he was still in school. The second one is the one Draco wants to tear apart. Teddy had drawn a house that looks just like the one they are in now. In front of it are Harry and Draco. Harry, with a massive lightning bolt on his forehead and Draco, with white hair. Teddy is in it too, holding Draco’s hand. And that is all fine. Draco has seen many drawings that feature him and Harry. But this one is different. In the background sits a large dog. When Draco asked about it, Teddy shook his head and said it was a wolf, just like daddy. The wolf has a puppy on his back. Teddy said it was his baby brother that is now in heaven. And ever since Teddy spoke those words, Draco hasn’t been able to take his eyes off the drawing and the representation of his unborn baby. The baby Draco lost. The little brother he stole away from Teddy.

“How long before Harry comes home?” Teddy asks. It snaps Draco out of his thoughts. He looks up and hopes he doesn’t have tears in his eyes. The last thing he wants to do is upset Teddy.

“Not long. He said he would be back around six with dinner,” Draco says.

“And what time is it now?” Teddy asks.

Draco cast a Tempus to find out. “It’s ten for six,” he tells Teddy.

Teddy bites his lip and looks at his empty parchment “Do you think I can draw grandma’s house in ten minutes?” he asks.

“It’s a small home. You might be able to,” Draco answers. Teddy nods in conformation and picks up a bright green crayon. He starts outlining a house with his tongue stuck between his lips. Draco looks away, out of the window. The neighbour's house has a garland in front of the window. Draco spotted it this morning, just before he was supposed to go to work. He ended up staying at home. He called in sick and cried half the day away. The garland is still there now, the words a sting into Draco’s heart. It’s a girl, is all it says. And Draco knows it’s insane, but he wants to grab a rock from the garden and smash the window and destroy the garland.

The front door opens, and Teddy jumps up from the floor. “Harry is home,” he yells before he runs into the hallway. Draco startles from the words. He wipes his hand over his eyes in the hope Harry won’t notice he’s been crying again. He will try to comfort Draco, tell him their time will come. But Draco can’t stand it anymore. Harry has no reason to be nice to Draco when it comes to this. It’s Draco’s fault they lost their baby and haven’t been able to conceive again. Draco has done horrible things, worse than most in the war, and now he gets what he deserves. And that will never change.

“I brought Chinese,” Harry says when he walks into the room, a white plastic bag in his hand, a smile on his face and an excited Teddy right behind him. Draco gets up from the sofa without returning the smile. He doesn’t say a word when he walks towards the kitchen, unsure if he can keep his composure. Harry stops him with a soft hand on his shoulder. He leans in and places a peck on Draco’s cheek. “Are you okay?” Harry asks.

“I’m fine,” Draco snaps. “Just hungry. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” Harry says. The smile on his face wavers, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Dinner is a silent affair. Teddy looks between Draco and Harry and hardly eats any of his food. Just like Draco and Harry. Most of the food containers end up in the fridge for another day. Harry takes Teddy upstairs to get him ready for bed. Draco lets him. It’s easier that way. Draco shouldn’t be allowed to look after the boy at all. He should be in jail, locked away for life for his crimes. But no, the Saviour had given a good word for him during his trial, and Draco was let off with a year's probation at Hogwarts. And that was hardly a punishment, as it was the year he and Harry had fallen in love and Draco had started to believe that he could be happy.

Draco closes his eyes and lets his hands rest on the counter. He can’t stop the thoughts from taking over. The hateful remarks people make, the howlers that still come sometimes, to remind him of the scum he is and that Harry deserves better. Like Draco doesn’t know this. He is the reason their saviour is unhappy, still childless, and all Harry ever wanted was to have a big family.

“Teddy is in bed. He asks me if we are going to split up,” Harry's voice comes from the doorway. “I told him not to be silly, that sometimes adults are a bit cranky too, that nothing is wrong. And then he told me you cried this afternoon.”

Draco shakes his head. He knows what comes now, the sweet words, the pity and worry. He hates that he does this to Harry. That he makes him worry, that he ruins his good day.

“Is it because of the banner at the neighbours?” Harry asks. His voice closer now, just behind Draco.

Draco nods in confirmation. Harry’s arms slide around Draco’s waist, and he rests his head on Draco’s back. “It’s okay to be sad,” Harry says.

“I’m not sad,” Draco answers. “I’m jealous. Of them, of Hermione, of Pansy.” He shakes Harry off him and storms away.

“Draco, please don’t walk away. I get it, I feel it too. You don’t have to hide this from me,” Harry says.

The desperation in Harry’s voice stops Draco in his tracks. “I want it so badly,” Draco chokes out. He turns and looks at Harry. “I’m a horrible person. I’ve upset Teddy, and you. This is not what you need when you come home from work. Bloody hell, I’m a mess. I’m supposed to be happy for our friends. But I’m not, Harry. I’m angry, and I hate them for having what we can’t have.”

Harry takes Draco’s hand in his. “Don’t give up hope, Draco. Our time will come.” Harry looks up at Draco, his green eyes still filled with hope. Draco can’t take it. Harry should hate him. But the man in front of him loves him. Draco doesn’t understand. After all, Draco has done, after the massive price Harry paid for Draco’s actions. Sirius would still be here, for one. Draco is sure of it. And now Draco is the reason why Harry is going to be childless for the rest of his life. How is it that Harry can just let all that slide and still love him?

“And what if it doesn’t?” Draco asks. He closes his eyes. He can’t stand the thought of looking into the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen when they break his heart.

Harry’s hand cups Draco’s face. His finger strokes over the skin like it’s made of porcelain. “Then there are other options we can look into. Dean said they might adopt in the future, and Hermione showed me some leaflets about surrogates.”

“It won’t be ours then,” Draco whispers. The options don’t sound like solutions, like other things they could look into. They just show how much Draco failed Harry.

“Draco, Teddy isn’t ours either. Doesn’t mean I don’t see him as my own. He’s our boy. I know you feel that way too. There isn’t a thing in the world you won’t do for him. And all I want is to extend our little family. I don’t care how, as long as I can do it with you” Harry says.

Tears fall from Draco’s eyes. His hand trembles in Harry’s, who squeezes it lightly. “I love you, Draco. And I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I love you too,” Draco answers. He lets his weight drop against Harry’s body, rests his head on his shoulder. Harry places his arms around Draco and hugs him. It helps a little with chasing away the demons in Draco’s head. But they won’t disappear, they keep nagging at the edge of his mind.

“Does Draco need Teddy-bear?” Teddy asks. Draco hasn’t heard him come down and into the room. He hopes the boy hasn’t seen much of what just happened. It’s already bad enough that Draco cried in front of him this afternoon without even realising it.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Harry asks Teddy.

“I wanted to say goodnight to Draco. Tell him not to be sad, that my mom and dad will look after my little brother.”

Draco turns so he can look at Teddy. The boy is in his dragon pyjamas and holds Teddy-bear in his small hand. Draco kneels in front of him, and Teddy falls into his arms. “I love you, Draco. Don’t be sad.”

“I love you too, Teddy,” Draco tells him. “I’ll take Teddy-bear tonight. And then I’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise. Now let us get you back into bed.”

Teddy agrees and takes Draco’s hand. Together they walk back to Teddy’s bedroom where Draco tucks the boy into bed. He kisses him on the forehead before he leaves the room. Harry is right about one thing, Teddy is their boy, no matter who his birth parents are, and Draco would do anything in his power to make sure he knows he’s loved and safe.

#silent tears #drarry #fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #mpreg #fertility problems #depression #teddy lupin

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