"What?" Harry asked, whined really, squirming a bit in his seat and trying not to feel too pleased. Or rather, trying not to let how pleased he was feeling show on his face.
"What, what?" Draco asked, grinning at Harry as he scooped another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and continued to look at Harry with that particular gleam in his eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, grin stealing over his face without his permission. In his lap, his fingers twisted around themselves as his heart fluttered around in his chest.
Fond. So impossibly fond. Looking at Harry like he was absolutely enthralled by his very existence. "Like what?"
Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. He looked down at his hands in his lap, fingers twisting while his heart continued its merry jig. "Like you love me," he murmured, shy and terrified of being too much, of reading too much into the expression on the other man's face, afraid that he was wrong.
"Harry," Draco said, voice light with gentle laughter.
He looked up, couldn't help himself, only to see that Draco's face was still doing that. Draco was still looking at Harry with such delight, such affection, that Harry couldn't breathe with it. His body was going to simply cease to exist, it wasn't possible for him to exist when he felt this loved, when he felt this happy.
"Is that all my face is saying to you?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
He shook his head, looked away, bit his lip to stop the smile that was a product of the warmth that had spread from his chest and up his neck, warm and sweet as honey it filled his limbs, filled his brain, tried to erase his fears and doubts with more success than Harry would like, if he was being honest. Fears and doubts kept him safe, kept him from falling too far, falling too hard, falling into a place from which there was no returning.
"Do you want to tell me what else my face is saying?" he asked, teasing, and Harry ached with it.
He never wanted this moment to end. Never wanted to leave this place, leave this love, leave this perfect, crystalline day. Harry shook his head again, he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell Draco what else he saw on his face because what if he was wrong? What if he was just projecting all of his hopes and his dreams, but it wasn't really how Draco felt?
"I'm so into you," Draco sighed, resting his chin in his hand.
Harry looked up at him, couldn't help it. The smile was too big, too wide, his heart in his mouth ready to just spill his guts for what was surely not the first and hopefully not the last time.
"You're so attractive," he continued, giving Harry the words that he so longed to hear. "I love getting to spend time with you. I love when you look like this."
"Like what?" Harry asked, wondering what Draco saw when he looked at him, wondering if Harry said as loudly with his face and with his body that Draco was loved, was cherished. He wondered if Draco knew that he always wanted to be with him; always wanted to hold his hand, to cuddle on the sofa, to eat meals together, to tease him and make him laugh, to hold him when he was sad. "What do I look like?"
"Like you know you're loved," Draco said simply. "You look so happy, and I can't," he broke off, shaking his head, "I can't believe I get to be the one to put that look on your face."
He laughed, "What?" Without his permission, his fingers reached for Draco's, ghosting over his knuckles before Draco's fingers caught his and slid together.
"I love getting to make you happy," Draco said, shrugging helplessly, as he continued to look at Harry like he never wanted to look at anything else, face so open, so delighted that Harry felt like he couldn't quite look at him.
"I want to make you happy too," he said, squeezing his fingers, afraid, so afraid, that he was taking too much and unable to give Draco enough in return.
Draco lifted his hand, pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, "You do. Harry," he said softly and Harry met his gaze once more. "You make me so happy."
"Yeah?" he asked helplessly, needing the reassurance, needing to hear the words to see his face when he said it.
"Yes," he said, huffing an incredulous laugh as he brushed his lips over Harry's knuckles once more.
"I love you." The words flooded out of his mouth, spilled between them without his permission. "So much, Draco. Do you know that too?"
"Of course I do," Draco assured softly, squeezing his hand. "Yes."
"A lot," Harry added, just in case his face wasn't as good at telling Draco as Draco's was at telling Harry. Just in case all of the love that filled up every nook and crevice in his body was being missed, just in case all of the love he felt and expressed differently was somehow not as readable, was somehow not enough.
"I know, love," he assured again, thumb brushing over Harry's wrist.
He squeezed the other man's hand, "It's different," he whispered, even though Draco already knew that, "Different than how you love me."
"Harry-" he started.
"But it's really big," he said, eyes filling with tears, "I love you so much."
"Hey," Draco said, moving so he could pull Harry into a hug, tucking him under his arm and letting Harry hide his face in his neck. "Hey," he soothed, "It's alright. I know, sweetheart. I know you love me just as much as I love you. I know."
"Promise?" Harry whispered.
He nodded, pressing his face into Harry's curls. "Yes, love. I promise. You're so good," he whispered.
He let out a soft sound, somewhere between a whimper and a word of dissent.
"You're so good. It's such a gift to be able to love you. You're such a good gift."
He wrapped an arm around Draco's waist.
"I love you," he murmured into his hair.
Harry nodded.
"Thanks for letting me," he added.
Harry hummed, he wanted to be loved more than anything, wanted this more than anything. But he could understand what Draco meant, it was scary to allow yourself to be loved, to believe that you are worthy of such a thing. Scary to imagine what could happen if you let yourself open up to the possibility of blossoming into a person who is loved, scary to imagine what would happen if you came to need someone else. Maybe sometimes part of loving someone else was allowing yourself to be loved in return. Maybe believing that someone loves you and letting them is itself an act of love to them. "I'm a little afraid."
Draco nodded, "that's okay. I am too sometimes."
"What do you do?" Harry asked.
He hummed, "Well, I ask if I can just let myself be happy."
"What?"
Draco shrugged, "I ask if I can just let myself be happy," he repeated. "Can today be enough for today? Can I just enjoy all of the good that this relationship has to offer without worrying about the possible loss in the future?"
"Can you?"
"Sometimes," he replied and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "I try to. Because today is all we have and grieving what I do not know today has never made loss later any easier."
Harry sighed, snuggling a little closer.
"So, Harry Potter, can you just let yourself be happy today?"
He took a deep breath, thought about it, and nodded. He could do that. He could just let himself be happy. One day at a time.
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