分卷阅读24（2 / 2）

And it’s like a blow to the chest. Draco laughs, stunned and breathless, and he ducks his head, tries to stop the well of tears from falling.

“Stop. Stop,” he says, voice trembling. “You don’t get to say it first.”

The thumb stops. There is confusion in Potter’s voice. “What?”

Draco grips Potter’s hand back. It feels right, Potter’s hand in his. “Give a mont,” he says, and it’s almost a plea. He doesn’t want their first kiss to taste like tears. He takes a deep, shaky inhale, and musters the courage. “Give a mont and then I’ll kiss you.”

A sharp intake of breath. And then an accusatory “…You don’t say that and expect to wait a mont.”

And Draco laughs again, giddy and warm, and he wipes his eyes with his other hand, the one hit by the hex, and it still hurts, that one, but it’s nothing pared to finally, finally getting this.

“Goddamn, Potter, you really have no patience.”

And he swallows all the hesitation down his throat and pulls Potter down for a kiss.

Dear Harry,

Consider surprised to see a picture of you and my son in an alleyway in Hogsade.

I am writing to spare you the suffering of wondering about my thoughts on the matter.

I would love it if you could join us for the holidays.

Love,

Narcissa