No one really thinks about how long a year actually is, and how long a year spent missing someone feels like. 365 days of lost connection. And though that number is large enough already, it feels like a thousand when you know someone isn't there to spend it with you.

And in those days, I feared I'd forget him.

The sound of his voice, the color of his hair, the pink blush of his lips, and the familiar scent of his cologne. Yet looking him at him now brought back all the memories, and now I could only ask myself:

How could I ever forget him?

I couldn't even answer that question, before I felt myself get pulled into the tightest hug in all my years of living. And in that moment all I could feel was pure bliss; the feeling of his hair brushing against my neck, his arms wrapped around my waist, and the warmth of his skin against mine.

And just like the click of a puzzle piece, Draco and I were put together again.

And maybe I shouldn't speak about time, and how long it's been since we were last together, because at this moment I find it to be completely irrelevant. Draco was my past, is my present, and will be the only thing I think about in the future — I don't need to consider anything else to know that's the truth.

And to have him in my arms...oh, I couldn't possibly describe it.

I'd run out of words before I could ever do it justice.

"I want to see your face again," I whispered, "you don't have to hug me for long, darling."

I heard the boy mumble something into my neck, the warm air escaping his lips ticking against my skin, "please just let me hold you."

"Draco?"

"You don't have to speak, I just want to know you're really here," he whimpered, "so just hold me for as long as you can."

And to think I could have ever lived without him. To have lived before him. And in truth, I wasn't living at all; I never understood myself until that day in the room of Requirement, and when I had lost him, I barely clung onto the feeling of being alive.

He had my heart, and he was the only thing keeping it beating.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling my eyes start to swell, "I'm so sorry for leaving you, darling."

I could barely hear his faint response.

"You never left me."

"But I did, Draco, and I can't bring myself to even think about doing it again."

"Then don't," he said, pulling away. His arms were still clung around me, as if he was scared to loosen his grip, but now I could see part of his face. Our foreheads were resting against each other, our noses close to brushing, but all I could focus on were his eyes. His beautiful, silver, eyes. He parted his lips to speak again, "do you feel it too?"

I smiled, "feel what?"

"Peace."

"More than I've ever felt it before," I nodded, "what else do you feel, Draco?"

"Freedom."

I couldn't even respond, because I knew he was right. That day in the maze...I remember it so vividly. The cheering of the crowd, the thunder raging above us, and the feeling of uneasiness pounding in my chest. Everything was fine when we were together.

But when I let go of his hand, that's when it all fell apart.

And that's what I mean. Without Draco, I never felt peace, and now that I've found him again, we finally have freedom. Two puzzle pieces, I tell you. Taken from two different pictures, but still a perfect fit.

I almost got lost in thought, before I felt Draco's hand leave my back, just to take the rose still clinging to my fingers. He picked off the thorns, before placing it in the crook of my ear.

"Beautiful..." he muttered under his breath, pushing aside the strands of my hair, "that's what you are."

I felt something burst in my chest, "I see you haven't changed."

"Hm?"

"Still the same sappy boy as ever," I grinned, placing my hand on his cheek, "I read your letters, Draco, I read all of them."

Something flickered in his eyes, "you did?"

"I did."

"All seventy-eight?"

"Well, seventy-seven," I chuckled softly, "one of them was so tear-stained, the ink was smudged all over, and I couldn't make out half of the words, and....why are you giving me that look?"

I smirked at the lopsided smile on his face, a sort of sheepish expression that clashed with the rosy blush of his cheeks. I could see his tiny freckles from this close, the ones that looked like constellations against his pale skin.

"I have so much to tell you," he muttered, his eyes glinting in the sunlight, "but there's something I've been meaning to do since I first saw you again."

I blinked, "what do you have to tell me?"

"A lot of things, mostly."

"You know I'll listen."

"I'd just prefer if I didn't use any words at all," he trailed off, glancing to the side in embarrassment, "is that alright with you?"

A butterfly twitched inside my stomach, and I felt myself lose my control entirely. Even though I was saying everything in my mind, I was holding it back so I wouldn't collapse into the boy's arms with so much as a touch.

But now I didn't have to control myself.

"Yes," I said quickly, leaning in, "it's always alright."

And then our lips connected.

You know, they never tell you what a real kiss is like, you have to experience it to find out. And a real kiss is every kiss with him. Fireworks setting off wildly in your mind, while your heart races faster and faster with each passing second, and you get the uncontrollable urge to pull away and scream how thankful you are to the sky.

But this...this wasn't just a kiss.

A kiss is just a kiss to everyone else, but to us it was a promise.

A promise that we'd find our way back to each other, a promise that we'd never lose each other again, a promise that we could give each other our hearts, and trust we'd keep it safe no matter what stood in the way.

Because it was worth it.

Everything was worth it, no matter how painful it felt, and how lost life had become with the absence of his touch.

He was worth it.

I was worth it to him.

And no rule could ever hide that.