Her gaze is encouraging, and Draco can do nothing but linger on the precipice of terrible want with remarkable self-restraint.
She’s right here; solid and real and welcoming. Slipping through his undeserving fingers. Is he allowed a trauma timeline? He has no idea when it’s appropriate for him to reach suffering’s endpoint and move on.
He’s a thestral with a beating wounded wing, still desperate to fly for her, to her.
