Draco’s words flooded through Harry with a sensation much akin to free falling, making the hairs on his neck stand. Harry had hoped so ardently that that would be the case, but it was only in that moment that he properly realised just how unrealistic he had really known it to be; and yet there it was.
Rationally, Harry should have had some follow-up questions, press to hear what had changed and what the repercussions of this would be, but he found that it didn’t matter. Harry would happily die tomorrow to have Draco today. He wondered if Draco could see it in his expression, the way Harry would never ask Draco to leave.
Once again feeling the tidal wave of a sob form in the very back of his throat, Harry tightened his grip around the fabric of Draco’s shirt. Using it as a point of stability Harry stretched against him, kissing him with desperation, as though Draco hadn’t just promised him forever.

It took no effort at all for Draco to return the kiss, finding that now that it was something he got to do again he wasn’t keen to ever stop. He knew that they would have forever to talk about what lead him here and how this was going to work out, and Draco figured that Harry must have a myriad of questions for him, but for now he was just happy that he got to have this again.
He let one hand slip from Harry’s jaw, desperate to get reacquainted with the feel of his body, and slid it into his hair, thrilled with just how long it had gotten and how much he had to hold on to. He flexed his fingers in the long curls, almost wanting to cry from the mixture of the new and the familiar.
Despite his own wishes, Draco carefully broke the kiss with one to the corner of Harry’s mouth and to his cheek, wanting to be able to press his love into Harry’s skin, such that he would know that he was here to stay.
“Show me your bedroom, love,” he said, wanting to be able to take his time in getting to know Harry again.

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The words, pressed into his skin as they were, made Harry’s stomach flip, but for all the built up anticipation and months worth of longing, it was something else entirely that got to him. Letting his hands trail from the small of Draco’s back to the waistband of his trousers, Harry tugged at Draco to follow as he himself took a step backwards.
“Yours too, no?” Harry corrected, giddy with it.
Though he felt it on his lips and filling his heart, he was unable to properly call it ours, still hesitant to hold on too tightly at the fear it would all break again.
The cottage was small on all accounts, and the upstairs landing even smaller; within a few steps, Harry had to let go of Draco with one hand, reaching behind him to blindly push the ajar door all the way open.

Despite how serious and world changing the situation actually felt, Draco found himself giggling at that, absolutely overcome with the fact that yeah, it was his bedroom too. As much as he had feared that maybe their distance had lessened their feelings for each other, he now knew that that hadn’t been the case and that he could actually get to live the rest of his life with Harry.
“Our bedroom,” he corrected himself as he followed Harry inside, feeling so giddy that he felt like he was about to explode. There really were never going to be any words that Draco could use to describe just how much he loved Harry, so he now hoped that he would get the chance to show it instead.

_________________

It was really special getting to hear Draco say what Harry hadn’t dared to say himself. It broadened Harry’s smile, a sincere expression of pure happiness.
“****, I’ve missed you,” he admitted, when what he really wanted to express was just how tired he had been of separate houses, of separate rooms - even of separate rooms in the same house, in what felt like a different lifetime entirely. He had missed Draco so much, but he was also coming to the realisation that he had simultaneously mourned the life he wished they could have had; this life of a shared home.
Given all that preamble, Harry should probably give Draco the opportunity to take in the room, but like a glass overflowing, Harry was finally well done with the tour.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, brushing his hands across Draco’s chest, before he desperately gripped the fabric of Draco’s shirt, pulling him into another kiss.

As thrilled Draco was at the prospect of them having a shared bedroom like this, he found that he honestly couldn’t care less what it actually looked like. He knew that he would have ample time to properly explore the quaint cottage, but for now there was something else that he was far more keen to explore.
One hand still in Harry’s neck, Draco used that as his anchor to hold him close, finding that no matter how many times they came back to this it still felt as if it was the first time all over again.
His free hand grabbed a hold of the hem of Harry’s shirt, grinning at the fact that Harry had clearly dressed to not leave his house or have guests over. It made Draco’s head spin, realising that Harry really had been making a life for himself here and yet he let Draco in with open arms.

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Adrenaline coursed through Harry’s system at the feel of Draco’s hands on him, such a feeling of relief and accomplishment flooding his system. He felt alive after months of just surviving, skin ablaze with so much want, feeling it mirrored in the way Draco smiled into the kiss.
Making space for Draco’s hands at his collar, Harry instead grabbed for the bottom Draco’s shirt, tugging it loose in order to expose a sliver of bare skin.
Adoringly, Harry pushed his hands beneath the shirt, brushing his palms across Draco’s bare midriff in a desperate caress, grip tightening around Draco’s hips as his hands settled there. Breaking the kiss for just an instance, Harry steadied himself against Draco, eagerly recapturing Draco’s lips in another kiss.

The feeling of Harry’s hands directly on his skin was almost enough to send Draco crying again, feeling the tears prickle in his eyes but he knew them to be tears of happiness.
Letting the hand in Harry’s hair slip to his collar instead, Draco started unbuttoning the flannel pyjamas that Harry’s was wearing, pulling him along as he started walking backwards.
Draco had taken absolutely no time to orient himself in the room, but he could tell that it was small and the large canopy bed was definitely hard to miss. When his legs collided with the bed, he simply sat down, breaking the kiss in the process, but quickly replacing it with kisses to Harry’s neck and the newly exposed collarbone.

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The moment Draco sat down, Harry was forced to let go of him, the angle too awkward. It was, however, hard to complain. For the first time since they had stood face to face on Harry’s doorstep, the height difference between them had shifted, giving Harry a better, easier look at Draco.
Taking a moment to really let the sight sink in, Harry’s hands brushed through Draco’s short hair, settling at the nape of his neck. Harry still felt it between his fingers, the phantom feel of Draco’s long hair, but running his hands through it a second time was a treat in and of itself, finding that Draco looked so young with it short, cathartic in a way Harry hadn’t expected it to be.
A well-placed kiss to his collarbone pulled him out of his reverie, making him snicker. Abandoning his train of thought, Harry dropped his hands from Draco’s hair, trailing them along the collar of Draco's shirt.
Stepping closer into the space between Draco’s knees, Harry eventually let go of Draco all together, taking hold of the button band of his own shirt in order to undo it from the bottom up.

When Draco’s hands met Harry’s in the middle he didn’t hesitate in pushing it off shoulders, wanting Harry so terribly that it didn’t feel like he could wait for even a second.
Once the shirt was gone from Harry’s chest two things immediately took Draco aback. The first was that he was immediately rewarded with the sight of Harry’s bare skin, and the second was how the skin actually wasn’t bare at all.
Immediately at eye level, Draco saw the circle he had made to indicate where the dark magic in Harry’s chest had spread. It made Draco stop in his tracks, hands finding Harry’s naked skin and running fingers over the raised skin of the mark.
“You got it tattooed?” He found himself asking, feeling the tears prickle in his eyes again, unsure how to handle this information. Harry had told him that he had gotten tattooed since they had last seen each other and while Draco noticed several others dotted about, the one that stuck out was the one that was nothing like the rest of them.
He looked up at Harry, hand still gently caressing the skin so close to Harry’s heart that it still made him a little nauseous to think of.
“I love you.”

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Had it not been for Draco’s hand tracing the circular mark, his question wouldn’t have been immediately understandable to Harry; he was hit with almost a sense of embarrassment, even despite the tenderness of Draco’s reaction. Harry hadn’t gotten Draco’s last marking tattooed for any decorative purposes, nor had he ever expected Draco getting to see it. It made a flush creep up Harry’s neck and face, caught in the depths of his affection for Draco.
“Yeah,” he agreed, a little sheepishly.
Once again reaching for Draco, Harry’s hand settled on Draco’s shoulders, mindlessly tracing the curve of his collar.
“I thought -” he started, but finding that that decision was so long ago by now that it was hard to pinpoint the exact excuse he had used for himself, the causal explanations he had given his friend when they had spent the summer gardening in the sun. “I didn’t want to lose track of it.”
Brushing his hands up Draco’s neck, Harry gently tipped his head back with a hold of his jaw, needing to look at him for this. “Draco, I loved you so much, then. I love you so much.”

Draco couldn’t help the son that escaped him at that, while he had never doubted his own feelings for Harry, he had several times been unsure if Harry could possibly return the feelings to the degree with which Draco felt them.
The tattoo was such a clear proof of Harry’s love for him, the lines almost exactly how Draco remembered drawing them, meaning that Harry would’ve had to have gotten it done almost immediately upon leaving the wizarding world for good.
“I wasn’t sure, you know,” he said in a soft voice, feeling so naked and vulnerable in front of Harry, knowing that no words would ever be able to explain just how much he loved him, but he wanted to try and showcase it in as clear a fashion as Harry just had for him.
“Wasn’t sure you’d want me around,” he added, looking up at Harry and just trying to soak him in. The idea that this could be his forever was almost too much for Draco to cope with, unable to believe that his biggest dreams had actually come true.
When words utterly failed him, Draco instead leant forward and pressed his love into the tattooed skin, kissing him somewhere he knew neither of them thought he would ever get to again.

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Harry felt the lick of guilt at the admission that Draco hadn't been sure, bringing with it the irrational thought that perhaps things could have been different if Draco had known. An I'm sorry was momentarily on his lips before reconsidering.
Harry couldn't blame him, though. For how true it had been at the time of their departure, Harry himself couldn't say for sure if he had been able to express it in any way that wasn't a plea, a show of desperate fear. Looking at Draco now, however, it felt like it bubbled over, like his own body couldn't even begin to contain the love he felt for Draco.
He felt it like a shimmer of magic the moment Draco kissed his skin, sending needles down his spine.
Knowing he would happily spend the rest of his life disspelling any doubts Draco might still have for him, Harry once again tugged Draco away from his chest, burrying his hands in his hair. Ducking down, Harry kissed him again, emotion overflowing as he slotted one knee on the matress between Draco's thighs, leaning into him to urge him to move further onto the bed.

It was the easiest thing in the world for Draco to slide further up the bed, feeling the love that was streaming so generously from Harry to such a degree that it almost made him weep. He had loved Harry for so long that it was simply a part of him, however getting to feel loved by Harry this way was new to him and he was almost drunk on it.
Interested in speeding up their process, Draco found the buttons on his own shirt, eager to feel more skin on skin contact now that he had been deprived of it for so long.

_________________

Draco moving back inevitably broke the kiss, allowing Harry to regain his balance. Following Draco, Harry moved to straddle his hips, one knee between Draco’s tights.
“I do,” Harry answered, with some delay. Sitting up upright, he finally let go of Draco for long enough to pull his own shirt all the way off of his cuffs, tossing it somewhere behind him. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
Despite his best efforts to look at Draco while speaking, his eyes kept dipping to the increasingly bigger slivers of skin visible. Draco was such a sight to behold, wrinkled shirt and ruffled hair.
Unable to help himself, Harry pushed Draco’s hands aside, taking the last few buttons into his own hands, having thought of this exact moment for months.
For how many times he had revisited the give and feel of Draco’s body, the sight of Draco’s bare chest startled enough for Harry to remove his hands entirely, a stuttered little moment where Harry failed to recognize Draco’s chest as Draco’s. Though spotted pink with a flush, Draco’s exposed chest was otherwise entirely unmarked.
Hesitantly, Harry reached out for Draco, almost timidly brushing his palms across the phantom path of scars no longer there.
When he spoke, his voice was far away, fragile. “What did you do?”

While Draco probably should have foreseen some kind of reaction to this drastic change to his body, he had ended up so caught up in Harry that he had more or less forgotten about the drastic changes to his own chest.
Seeing Harry suddenly grow distant made Draco ache, fearing for a moment that the price he had paid to get here would end up making him lose it all over again.
“I did the only thing I could do,” he stated in a soft voice, sitting up slightly straighter to be able to properly push the shirt off. Upon doing so, he showed Harry his forearms, pale and slightly pink but otherwise completely unmarked. It had not been a pleasant experience to have his magic torn from his blood, still sometimes feeling the aching loss of it, but he knew that he had never had another choice.
“Don’t be upset, okay?” He pleaded, gently reaching out and putting his hands on Harry’s hips, needing to feel him close when he told him exactly what their reunion had cost him.
“I have removed all of my magic.”

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For how much Draco’s unscarred chest had startled him, the sight of Draco’s pale forearm made Harry’s stomach swoop. Without thinking, Harry reached for Draco’s left forearm, covering the skin with his palm; for a brief moment, Harry simply wasn’t ready to face that change, so much information to process all at once.
“What?” he demanded a little deliriously. The sound he made halfway between a sob and a laugh, shaken to his core at things Draco was even suggesting. Any building arousal had immediately given way for a complicated mix of emotions, the relief he felt mixing with the inherent burden of regret he still carried.

The feeling of Harry’s hand enveloping his forearm almost made Draco withdraw it from pure instinct, but instead was overwhelmed by a feeling of relief. The only thing he felt was skin against skin and while he and Hermione had tested excessively for any traces of magic, dark or otherwise, left in Draco’s system he had really needed this small level of confirmation.
“It’s gone,” he simply replied, sitting up slightly straighter, trying to gauge his reaction, wondering if his actions had been too horrifying for him. To Draco, it had been the simplest decision in his life, having realised that he has to do something drastic to get to be back with Harry.
“I couldn’t stand being away from you anymore, but I also couldn’t live with the idea of hurting you further,” he explained, desperate for Harry to understand just why he had done as he did.
“I know it may seem rash to you, but I have had plenty of time to reconsider and I want you more than I want my magic.”

_________________

Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest, feeling like the whole world flipped on its axis the moment Draco sat up straight. For how much his brain was scrambling to try to make sense of Draco’s words, Harry’s heart ached at the admissions, so helplessly in love with the man in front of him that it almost didn’t matter beyond the fact that Draco loved him too.
Harry adjusted his grip around Draco’s forearm, instead taking a hold of his wrist. In a clumsy motion, Harry turned it to press Draco’s forearms against his chest, keeping it there.
The view he had of Draco’s chest had greatly diminished, allowing his attention to be on Draco’s face, eyes roaming his expression in a frantic attempt to understand what Draco was saying to him; they kept dipping to Draco’s mouth, suddenly so close.
“Not only this,” Harry said, his voice shaky. Reaffirming his words, he pushed Draco’s wrist further into his chest, not knowing how else to phrase it; how else to group the disappearance of the mark and scars together. “All of it?”

“All of it,” Draco confirmed as he reached up his free hand to gently cup Harry’s jaw, trying to get a proper read of what was going on in Harry’s head, finding it such an incredibly difficult task. He knew that it was quite a bombshell that he had just dropped on Harry, but he hoped that he would be able to come to terms with Draco’s sacrifice.
“I couldn’t do a spell if I wanted to,” he added with a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood a little, wanting Harry to know that this wasn’t something he was hung up on; it had been a sacrifice he made willingly because it had been the only way he had been able to get the life he so desperately wanted.
“We discussed whether we’d been able to just remove the dark parts, but figured that the risk was too great,” he stated, gently running a thumb over Harry’s cheekbone while his other hand gently caressed the skin of Harry’s chest.
“And I’d do it again as long as it meant that I got to stay with you.”

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