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And the Spring That Follows

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Pale green and rich yellow buds stretch towards the sky, bursting open and spreading their sweet fragrance in the air. A brisk breeze whips through the graveyard, twisting around the trees and dancing along Draco’s exposed neck. He pulls his robe closer around his body and steps behind Harry who is crouched at the War Memorial, setting a handful of carnations at the base. Harry rises, stretching before he turns to face Draco. His eyes are rimmed red but his cheeks are dry and he smiles softly when his gaze settles on Draco.

“Still blaming yourself, Potter?” Draco asks dryly but concern laces his voice all the same.

“Trying not to, but I’ll always feel a little responsible.” Draco opens his mouth to object but Harry quickly cuts him off before any sound escapes. “I know I can’t hold onto it, I can’t let the guilt destroy me.” Harry shrugs, expression turning sheepish and endearing. “It’s a process.”

“It’s a good start,” Draco replies, stomach flipping at the faint blush that stains Harry’s cheek.

The shadows under Harry’s eyes have mostly faded, his face filled out and looking far less gaunt. He’s even wearing a new sweater, a rich plum shade which brings out the bright green in his eyes.

“You look much better,” Draco drawls, his hand reaching out to ruffle Harry’s wild locks. “You do need a haircut, though.”

“Prat,” Harry mumbles affectionately, leaning into Draco as he presses forward and captures his lips in a kiss.

Draco sighs against Harry’s mouth, lips parting and tongue exploring the wet heat inside. Rough stubble scraps against Draco’s chin, Harry’s hands linking behind his neck and Draco surrenders to the kiss. He can feel the first stirrings of arousal, his cock slowly thickening inside his trousers. Reluctantly, Draco breaks the kiss and pulls away; it wouldn’t do to get turned on in a graveyard.

“So.” Harry regains his breath, his pretty lips swollen and flushed. “What posh restaurant are you taking us to tonight?”

“Let’s just grab some takeaway and go back to your flat.”

“Oh? I thought you hated my messy, cramped flat.”

“It’s a bit different than I’m used to,” Draco says, wrapping his arm around Harry and pulling him towards the gates. “But I think it’s grown on me.”

Harry laughs softly, a deep rumble escaping his chest and he leans into Draco’s embrace, his body warm and comforting.

“Come on then, let’s go home.”