Pride

Two years ago I went to pride for the first time. I’d been out for 5 years at the time (longer to a few friends). It took me 5 years from coming out to friends and family, and 10 years from coming out to myself. And sure, some of it was social anxiety, some of it was fear of being rejected (by the cishets for being too gay, and by the queer for being too straight), some of it was the fact I don’t know any queer people and I didn’t want to go alone.

Mostly though, it was because I didn’t feel proud. How could I go to PRIDE when I was ashamed? When the words ‘wrong’ and 'disgusting’ kept ringing in my ears. How could I wave a flag in celebration of something I’d spent years trying to pretend didn’t exist, something I’d spent countless waking nights begging to be free from.

Standing in the middle of people dancing and laughing dressed in the rainbow made me realise something though. We don’t have pride because we ARE proud. We have pride to fight for the right to BE proud. I went to pride and I celebrated the thing I’d been ashamed of my entire life. I waved the rainbow flag and I felt less ashamed. It felt like giving my 13 year old self a hug and saying “I know you think you’re all alone, and I know you think youre shameful. I know people you love will tell you that it’s wrong, or disgusting, or a phase. I know it’s not easy. But look around, everyone you can see is here to celebrate and love this part of you. Everyone here wears the rainbow too. You’re not alone.”

I don’t celebrate pride because I’m proud, I celebrate it because it makes me prouder. I celebrate it to give the voices in my head telling me it’s not alright a giant 'fuck you’. I celebrate pride because one day I might finally feel it.

And yes, pride month is about pride, but that doesn’t mean you’re not welcome if you’re still struggling. It doesn’t mean you’re not welcome if you’re not sure. It doesn’t mean you’re not welcome if you’re not proud. Pride is for all of us, always. Even if you can’t celebrate it yet.

Prompt; Domestic Drarry

It had been a really long day at work. Harry was tired, and probably covered in snot after several kids had used his shirt as a tissue over the course of the day. A cold had taken hold of the preschool he worked at, and it had made sure there wasn’t a dry nose to be seen. Harry wouldn’t have minded, if he hadn’t caught the damn thing himself. His head ached, and his nose was stuffed. He was starving since he hadn’t had time for lunch because he’d had to cover for a sick co-worker. He must look utterly disgusting, he thought as he walked through the door to the flat he shared with Draco.

“Welcome home handsome,” Draco said as soon as he saw Harry, and leaned in for a kiss.

Harry snorted, knowing full well he looked like complete crap. “Watch out or you’ll catch my cold,” Harry said into the kiss, not willing to pull back. He loved this more than anything, the ‘welcome home’s and ‘have a nice day’s.

“Honestly, after the week I’ve had I think a cold might be a nice break,” Draco laughed. He pulled back to let Harry shrug off his jacket, revealing the snot covered shirt.

“Merlin, go change your clothes,” Draco laughed, seeing the shirt. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Harry wanted to cry with relief at the statement. It was his turn to make dinner, but Draco, being the wonderful man he was had somehow anticipated how tired Harry would be.

“You made dinner?” he asked, feeling ridiculously thankful.

“I did,” Draco said, “and after we eat it I’m going to force you to sit down with me in the living room and we’re going to watch one of those Muggle films.”

“I really should -” Harry started.

“You really should get some rest,” Draco interrupted. “I think we could both do with a quiet evening in.”

Harry had to agree, and he figured his work really could afford to wait. His stomach on the other hand, couldn’t, and he made quick work of changing his shirt.

Sitting down at the kitchen table Harry wanted to cry all over again. In front of him stood a gigantic slice of sweet potato pizza, his absolute favourite food.

“Fuck, Draco you’re a literal angel, did you know?” Harry asked, digging into his food.

“Well I sure hope I’m not a literal one, as that would mean I’m dead,” Draco said back, smirking at Harry.

It was strange, Harry thought, how that smirk had once ignited a burning rage inside him. Now all it did was add to the fondness Harry had for the other man. If it didn’t turn him on of course, but that was a different story entirely.

The pizza was the most delicious thing Harry had ever eaten, and he was sure he’d insist the same under Veritaserum. Harry stuffed his face while he listened to Draco tell him about his day, in-between smaller, more reasonable bites of the food. Once Harry had eaten his fill he told Draco about his day. Although, after the day he’d had it was more complaining than telling. It was nice, he thought, sharing stories of how their day had been, even if it had been bad.

When they were both full Harry got up, grabbing both Draco’s plate and his own. Draco had cooked, so he really should do the dishes. He deposited them to the sink, and smiled when he felt Draco step up behind him, putting his hands on Harry’s waist.

“Leave them,” he said, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “We can deal with that tomorrow, after we both call in sick.”

Harry smiled, leaning back into Draco. He hated calling in sick, because he knew it would be stressful for everyone else. The thought of getting a proper night’s rest though, and a day in with Draco to relax and recover sounded like the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard.

“I should probably –,” he started, changing his mind halfway through. “Actually, fuck it. I should probably take a day to recover so I don’t get even sicker.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Draco said, letting go of Harry and taking a step back. “Go choose something to watch, and I’ll make us some tea.”

“With honey?” Harry asked, like he always did. Even though Draco knew he wanted honey, and even though Harry knew that Draco knew.

“Naturally,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Five minutes into the movie Harry knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake for long. He was laying with his head in Draco’s lap, and Draco was running his fingers through Harry’s hair in soothing circles that was doing wonders for his headache.

“I really love you, you know?” Harry murmured, his eyes sliding shut.

“I love you too,” Draco said.

Harry smiled, shifting to a more comfortable position. His thoughts went to the ring he was hiding in his sock drawer, the one waiting for a special moment. Maybe he shouldn’t wait though, because with Draco every moment was special. He didn’t want Draco for the times they went on holidays to France, or out to a fancy dinner. Harry wanted him for this, for quiet nights on the sofa. For dinner, and agreeing to skip the dishes. For sharing a life. A real one.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.