#part of the author's unofficial trauma response collection. just processing a lot of mad right now.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

"Come on," Draco said, dragging Harry in the door by the lapels on his expensive suit jacket. He looked delectable and Draco wanted to drown in him.

Harry stumbled, collapsing against Draco, pressing him back against the wall in the hallway, "Mmrmph," he managed as Draco grabbed his face and kissed him hard.

His hands went straight to Harry's buttons, tugging them hard enough that the fabric bit into his fingers, stinging as he ripped Harry's shirt.

"Draco," he gasped, pulling back, something in his voice sounding vaguely concerned.

And he very much didn't want that. Draco dove into kissing him again, groping Harry's back, pressing their bodies more tightly together. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it, didn't want anything but Harry-

"Draco," he repeated, pulling back again and catching Draco's hands. He pressed them back against the wall next to his head trapping him again but not in a sexy way. "Wait," he said, voice soft, and Draco's saw red.

"Don't," he growled. "Harry. Fucking don't," he spit, shaking his head and fighting against Harry's grip on his wrists. "Let me go."

"Hey," he said, achingly tender, and Draco would have punched him if he'd had his hands free. "Can we talk about that?"

"No," he said, "I don't fucking want to talk about it. I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight."

Harry tilted his head down, trying to get Draco to meet his eyes.

Draco was absolutely not having it, he didn't want to look at Harry, didn't want to feel like this. "If you're not going to fuck me, let me go and I'll go find someone who will," he threatened.

Harry sucked a breath through his teeth, "you don't mean that," he said.

He glared at him, hoped that his face conveyed all of the anger and vitriol he was feeling, "Don't tell me what I will or won't do," he said. "Don't pretend to control me. You don't."

His hands were released and Harry took a step back, his torn shirt hanging open, leaving the image of his heaving chest incredibly clear. "Fine," he said, stepping away and turning toward the living room. "You're right," he added over his shoulder, "I don't control you. But I do get to control me, and I don't like being used."

"I'm not trying to use you!" he exclaimed, storming after his boyfriend.

Harry made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He took a long drink before he turned to look at Draco, "What were you trying to do then?"

He threw his arms in the air, "trying to get fucked!"

"In order to avoid talking about what happened at your parents'," Harry said.

"What does it even matter?" he exclaimed. "Why does it matter why I want you to fuck me into incoherency? Especially when it's something that you want too!"

"I just want to talk to you first," Harry said. "Is that too much to ask? To just have a little communication?"

He scowled, rage sitting high in his chest, "Yes. It is too much to ask, I don't want to fucking talk. I thought I was dating a man, not some fucking woman who feels the compulsive need to talk everything to death."

Harry flinched, "Too far," he growled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he snarled, "Have I hurt your delicate feelings?" And he knew he was being an asshole, knew that he was lashing out, but he was so mad, absolutely raging and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He didn't want to stop; he wanted to fight, wanted to hurt.

"I'm not doing this," Harry said. "I'm not having a fight about this."

He stalked over and shoved Harry, both palms flat against his chest, "Fight with me!" he roared. "Yell at me, tell me I'm wrong," his fists hit Harry's chest. "Come on!"

"No," Harry said. "I'm not going to do that. I don't want to treat you that way."

A glass shattered behind him, Draco's magic swirling through him. "I'm leaving."

"Fine," Harry said, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine," Draco snapped, stalking away from the other man and heading straight for the door. He summoned a bottle of whiskey and paused on their front step. He had half a mind to go to some club, find some random bloke to sleep with, someone who would really pound him. But decided that Pansy's was actually the place he should crash. She was always good for a fight.

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Draco woke up the next morning, in Pansy's guest bed, with an awful hangover and an even worse feeling swirling in the pit of his gut. "Shit," he whispered, rubbing his face and trying not to panic.

"Hey, there," Pansy said from the doorway, tossing a hangover potion at his head.

He caught it and uncapped it, draining it and shuddering at the immediate effects. "I fucked up," he managed once most of the symptoms of the whiskey he'd consumed vanished and left only the guilt and shame behind.

She nodded, "I said that last night," she replied flippantly as she sat down next to him on the bed and handed him a cup of coffee. "And then we had a spectacular row about it."

Draco sipped his coffee, "I wanted to have a fight with him."

"Right, but he didn't."

He groaned as the words he'd said to Harry the night before flitted through his mind, "I was awful to him."

"Go home," she said.

He shook his head, "What if he's mad?"

"Then you'll get that fight you were so desperate for," she teased, bumping her shoulder against his.

"What if he's not?" he whispered, the thought somehow even more horrifying.

"Go home," she repeated, nudging him out of bed. "I've got company coming for brunch," she added.

He turned to look at her, "Thanks," he whispered, grateful beyond measure that she would fight with him when he needed an outlet without batting an eye.

"That's what best friends are for," she said with a wink. "Now go."

He trudged home, deciding to walk instead of apparate, trying to work out what he was going to say and mostly failing.

When he came in, Harry looked up from where he was sitting at their kitchen table. Unshaven, puffy red eyes, mouth turned down in a frown, his eyes flickered over Draco's body before meeting his gaze.

"I stayed with Pansy," Draco said softly, by way of apology.

Harry nodded, then looked away from Draco to stare out the window, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

"I didn't sleep with someone else," he continued. Draco couldn't bring himself to walk closer, to come in out of the doorway, he wasn't entirely sure it would be welcome.

The other man winced but said nothing, didn't even nod.

"You're not going to even talk to me?"

"What would you like me to say?" Harry asked, turning his face to look at him, exhaustion written across it plain as day. "Do you want me to tell you that I stayed up all night, waiting for you to come home? Should I tell you that I thought about going out to all of our normal clubs to see if I could find you, but was too afraid that you'd come back and think that I'd left you?" he asked, running a hand through his hair, "Would you like me to tell you that my entire body felt like it was burning up with rage and jealousy but I couldn't-" he broke off and shook his head and looked down at the table. "I couldn't tell you, couldn't do anything with how angry I was because that isn't how I want to treat you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

At that Harry looked up at him and Draco took a step closer.

"I'm sorry I said those things, I didn't mean them. I was just angry and I wanted to fight with you." He shook his head, "My parents, they just-" he broke off.

Harry reached for him, took Draco's hands in his and drew him in closer before pressing kisses to his knuckles, "I know," he said softly. "I was mad at them too, love. They had no right to speak to you that way."

Tears prickled the backs of his eyes as hurt and resentment build up in his throat and chest at the remembrance of their criticism.

"And I didn't want to hurt you more," he continued. "I didn't want to add to that burden." He tugged Draco down until he had him sitting cradled in his lap like Draco was a toddler instead of a twenty three year old. "I love you. I want to fight for you," he added and Draco buried his face in Harry's neck, his stubble scratching his temple and cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, the feeling so big, so present that it terrified him.

Harry turned his head to kiss Draco's temple, "I love you too. I want to honor you and be on your side."

He nodded, "I want that too," he confessed. "I just get afraid to let myself believe that you want to be on my side. What if I end up needing you?"

His lover chuckled softly, breath ghosting through Draco's hair, "It's a scary thought that maybe we weren't made to do life alone, isn't it?"

"I don't want to need you."

"Why?" he asked softly, hands brushing over Draco's back soothingly.

He held his breath for a long moment before saying, "if I start to need you and then you leave, what will I do?"

With a soft hum, Harry held him closer, "I hear that," he replied. "I'm scared to need you too, but it doesn't change the fact that I do. I could live without you, Draco," he said, "and you could live without me too. But I'd rather live with you," he continued. "I'd rather put in the work to live with you, to love you. My life is better with you in it."

"Mine too," he agreed.

Harry nodded, "Maybe we just take it one day at a time, maybe we just work on trusting that neither of us is going anywhere. Maybe you let me be on your side, and I let you be on mine."

"And then what?" he murmured, fear and hope warring in his heart.

"Then," Harry said, drawing him impossibly closer, "we just keep doing it for the rest of our lives, one day at a time."

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