Fucking Balloons
"What the bloody fuck have you done, Potter?"
Harry didn't turn around. He knew looking over at the blonde would not be good. 'Uh oh, angry Malfoy. Think quickly Harry.' "Er…surprise?" Harry said finally, starring down at his feet.
Draco's frown deepened. "Surprise. That's you excuse for filling my whole damn flat with fucking balloons?"
Harry frowned as well, looking disappointed. "Well, if you don't like it…"
"You bet your arse I don't – they're for me?" Draco asked, cutting himself off as realization hit him.
Harry grinned sheepishly. "I know you don't really like celebrating your birthday, but I thought maybe –"
"It's my birthday?" Draco rushed into the kitchen, looking past Harry's very Muggle coffee pot (the one thing Harry had insisted on when they furnished the place) to read the calendar. "It's my birthday."
Harry came up behind him, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder. "Surprise?" he said again, smiling slightly.
Draco turned around and kissed Harry soundly. "If I had known you were going to be such a sap I wouldn't have married you," he teased, a real smile replacing his usual smirk. "And Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Get rid of the fucking balloons."
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I don't know.