When he entered the hospital room and found Draco on that enormous bed, arms full of needles, Harry almost cried in relief.
“You’re fine,” he whispered, mostly to himself. He felt the rock that had been weighing on his stomach lift and disappear into nothing. Draco was fine .
Draco kept looking at him with the most tired eyes Harry had ever seen on him. Yet, he still was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever laid his eyes on.
“You’re here?” Draco asked, voice feeble and soft. He sounded - and looked - like he was about to wreck at any moment. God .
Harry approached him fast, searching for his hands that were gently laying over the anonymous white sheets that covered his legs - and whatever damage Draco had suffered from.
“I was so scared,” Harry confessed to him, before raising Draco’s hands to his face and kissing his knuckles, ghosting over the pale, thin skin a little longer. “So scared.”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Harry murmured to him, shaking his head. “We’ll talk later.”
Draco didn’t seem reassured enough. “Harry, what I did-”
“Was a fucking stupid suicide, I know,” Harry finished the phrase for him, before sighing, moving forward and touching Draco’s forehead with his own. “Please, never do it again,” he begged him, closing his eyes and inhaling the lemony scent that was coming from Draco’s hair. “I love you so much.”
Draco stilled underneath him. He wasn’t even breathing anymore. “You love me?” he murmured, almost choking on his own words. He felt so fragile... Harry only wanted him to be happy forever.
“I do,” he smiled at him, looking into Draco’s doubtful light eyes. “So fucking much.”
Draco’s mouth widened. “But,” he began, “you deserve someone who’s perfect. You can’t possibly be in love with me. I’m no perfection.”
Harry simply shook his head. He raised his hands to cup Draco’s cheeks. “Love isn’t about finding the perfect person,” he spoke. “It’s about seeing an imperfect person perfectly.”
With that, he sealed their reconciliation with a kiss.