Waiting

He waits.

He hasn�t the faintest clue how much time has passed since he sat down. Time has no meaning here; he doesn�t care if it�s been hours, days or months. All he�ll do is wait, because that�s what he�s supposed to do.

The seasons change, and still he waits. Dead leaves swirl around him, stick in his hair, crumble to dust and nothing in his hands, trickling to the ground through his fingers, but it doesn�t really matter. It�s not important.

Once, there was someone else. Someone with hair like night and eyes the colour of broken emeralds. He had a nice smile, when he can to remember it. Hesitant, shy, and gentle, all at the same time. Not many are able to smile like that. Heh, it�s odd that he�s the only one who noticed that.

His kisses were like summer rain, soft and sharp at the same time. He could almost get drunk on those kisses, he remembers; he could never get enough of them. Hands fumbling against his shirt� soft whimpers against his ear� he liked that�

He told him that he loved him. And he said it back, because it was true. And he was happy. Only� then he had to go, because he had to fight for those who believed in him. He promised that he�d be back � and he asked him to sit and wait.

So he did.

So he does.

Harry promised that he�d be back�

�so Draco waits.