"Draco," Harry chuckled in amusement against his boyfriend's lips. "I'm going to be late."
"Then don't stand under the mistletoe Potter," he replied with a smirk.
Harry laughed, and then decided that risking Robard's wrath was worth it for a few extra snogging minutes with Draco.
Much to everyone's absolute shock, they'd begun dating two years ago, just after Draco started working for the Ministry. Harry was already employed as an Auror and Draco had joined the International Law Cooperation division. They were attending the same Ministry functions and eventually struck up a tentative friendship over time; due in large part to their boredom in combination with an open bar. They quickly realised that they had a lot in common though, including a wry sense of humour and a penchant for making fun of pompous Ministry officials.
Finally, they began hanging out during working hours too, and then having lunch together, and then having dinner, which quickly morphed into seeing each other on weekends. It didn't take long before they both realised that the potential for more than just friendship was there, and thanks to Harry's bravery - and three pints of Butterbeer - he confessed his feelings to Draco one evening at The Leaky Cauldron. Instead of responding verbally, Draco had just kissed him; a look of relief in his eyes.
A year into the relationship they made the decision to move in together and they'd shared a small flat in London ever since.
Sometimes they rowed, and sometimes they slammed doors and said cruel things, but their irritation never lasted long and, for the most part, life together was as good as it could possibly be.
"All right, now I really have to go," Harry said reluctantly, taking a step back. He really, really didn't want to leave; it was early Saturday morning and Draco was still in his rumpled sleepwear with mussed blond hair and very tempting lips, and all he really wanted to do was fall back into bed with him, but Robards had sent out the emergency call five minutes ago and Harry knew he had to leave their cosy home to head into the office.
"If you don't hurry back, I will drink your cappuccino," Draco threatened as he leaned against their kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, gaze warm and teasing.
Harry smiled as he reached for his Auror robes and hung them over one arm. "Don't you dare Malfoy."
Draco returned the easy smile then turned away to start on breakfast. "Then you'd better get moving," he said with his back to him.
Harry grinned and Disapparated with a loud 'crack.'
. . . .
"What's going on?" Harry asked Ron as he settled into the chair next to him, the meeting room filling up fast with Aurors under the watchful eye of their boss seated at the front of the room.
"No idea. What took you so long?" Ron asked as he half-heartedly covered a wide yawn with one hand.
"Mistletoe."
"Huh?" Ron turned to him in confusion.
Harry grinned. "Draco placed some mistletoe in our kitchen and I-"
"Okay okay, that's all I need to know," Ron hurriedly cut in with a grin.
Harry laughed and elbowed him in the side. His best friend always pretended he was horrified by his relationship with Draco, but Ron had confessed one night at the pub that he'd come to realise just how good they were together, and - rather drunkenly - that he suspected Malfoy liked Harry rather a lot.
"Thank you for coming everyone," Robards called out authoritatively from the front of the room, clapping his hands together to help garner their attention - and perhaps to wake the ones nodding off in their chairs. "I would not have called you all away from your homes if this wasn't important. Our man on the inside was able to send word that Robert Geary will be receiving a large shipment of Synthesis today in preparation for a sizeable order."
Harry straightened in his chair. Robert Geary was a wizard whom they'd been chasing fruitlessly for about eighteen months. He was running an illegal potions ring that targeted the young and the wealthy, marketing the potion as something quite exclusive, which meant everyone wanted it. Rumour had it that he was expanding into Muggle territory now as well.
The potion eventually killed you if taken too often, but the foolish teenagers wouldn't take heed. They all thought they were invincible.
Harry knew they'd had one of their undercover Aurors on the case, a trainee that they were passing off as one of the young and elite, hoping to find out more information. Looks like it finally paid off.
"Unfortunately his exchanges take place in the Sierra de Guadarrama mountain range, which is why they have managed to remain undetected for so long."
Harry knew that place and he knew that magic was useless there. It was like the Bermuda Triangle for witches and wizards, not even a Lumos would function within the vicinity. Magic also didn't properly function around Stone Henge, but that was far too crowded a spot to conduct illegal business.
"Seems a bit elaborate just to sell a few illegal potions," Ron muttered under his breath.
Harry nodded in agreement.
"So I'm putting together a few teams to go out there immediately and capture Geary," Robards said, looking around at them all with a determined gaze. "I wanted you all to be aware of the situation but only our most senior teams will be sent to the exchange."
Harry shared a look with Ron.
"Guess Hermione will just have to keep my breakfast warm for me," Ron said with disappointment.
Harry patted him on the shoulder, also feeling a twinge of regret that he would not be heading directly back to Draco, but he had been chasing this dodgy mastermind for quite some time and he was definitely looking forward to finally apprehending him.
He quickly scrawled off an apologetic note to Draco to let him know that he wouldn't be coming home just yet, then gathered his things and joined the group of about six teams waiting at the lifts.
Robards himself was coming, which was an event in itself, and showed just how significant the mission was.
The plan was to take an International Portkey to Madrid and then a couple of Apparation jumps to the little town of Rascafria before having to hire some Muggle helicopters to finish the journey.
All the teams made it to Rascafria safely and then split into groups of four per helicopter.
Ron eyed the waiting aircraft dubiously. "Are these things safe Harry?"
Harry didn't even glance up as he slid on his fur-lined dragon hide gloves, a gift from Draco from their first Christmas together. "No idea," he replied absently, then frowned in thought. "Actually, I've heard they're a bit temperamental."
"What?" Ron exclaimed, skin paling beneath his freckles.
Harry finished putting on his gloves and looked up to grin at his friend. "Don't worry about it, we've got our wands, remember?"
"Oh yeah." Ron sighed in relief as he began to follow Harry to their designated chopper. It wasn't until he was on board and strapped in that Ron remembered their wands were useless.
Harry just laughed while Ron spluttered and the other two Aurors stared at them both in confusion.
The helicopters made it to the closest landing site without incident and all of the Aurors piled out onto the rugged terrain, pulling their cloaks around themselves for protection against the sharp, stinging wind blowing across the mountainside.
Using a Muggle map, Robards led them all up the slope through the thick fog towards the meeting site.
Harry put his head down and walked onwards, his body getting buffeted by the wind while he thought longingly of his nice warm flat and waiting boyfriend. At about this time, Draco would be lounging on the sofa, newspaper in one hand and second coffee in the other. Probably the coffee he'd made for Harry. The bastard.
The Aurors trekked up the mountainside in silence, the wind making it impossible to speak to one another. When they finally reached the coordinates of the exchange, Robards had them spread out and hide out of sight.
Harry huddled next to Ron and waited. Robards had ensured that they were there early for the 'element of surprise.' Every Auror was currently carrying a type of taser device which shot out electrodes to attach to the perpetrator to immobilise them. It was an idea that they'd borrowed from the Muggles for situations in which they were either too tired to use magic or if they were trapped in a magic-supressing building or cell.
This was the first time that Harry and Ron would be using theirs outside of the training room.
"You two still coming over for Christmas dinner?" Ron whispered as they crouched down to wait.
"Is Hermione cooking or your mum?"
"Mum."
"Then yeah, we're coming," Harry confirmed and the two sniggered quietly. It was a running joke about Hermione's cooking after she attempted to take over the tradition from Mrs. Weasley the first Christmas she and Ron were married. The dinner had been a complete disaster. She was a brilliant witch and did her job in the Department of Mysteries flawlessly, but a talented cook she was not.
"Neville and Luna are coming too," Ron added.
"Oh?" Harry turned to his friend. "How is Luna? I haven't spoken to her since…"
Ron shrugged, eyes trained to the empty clearing in front of them, the fog rolling in across the rocky ground in a diaphanous cloud of white. "You know Luna; she thinks everything happens for a reason and all that."
Harry frowned sympathetically as he too turned back to watch the clearing. "Yeah but a miscarriage… she and Neville were so looking forward to becoming parents. I can't imagine what that would feel like."
Ron glanced at him. "Do you think you and Draco will ever have kids?"
Harry turned to smile at him in amusement. "Think we're in it for the long haul, do you?"
"Oh come on," Ron replied with a roll of his eyes. "You know you're completely daft for the git, and since he's-" Ron suddenly stopped, eyes widening in alarm before he turned away.
Harry frowned. "Since he's what?"
Ron shook his head and pressed his lips together.
Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his friend. "What do you know Ron?"
"Nothing."
"If you don't tell me then I'll tell Hermione that you forgot her birthday last year and that it was me who bought her that book on Mongolian trade routes and that it was me who reserved a last-minute table at Amortentia for the two of you - resorting to using my bloody name no less. You know how much I hate doing that."
Ron paled. "Y-you wouldn't," he stammered. "She still goes on about that night."
Harry smiled smugly. "Then tell me what secret you're keeping for Draco."
"I can't," Ron replied miserably, shifting a little as his muscles began to protest his crouched position. "It's about your Christmas present, do you really want to spoil it?"
"My Christmas present?" Harry repeated in surprise, glancing back out to the clearing. "Why would that be so impor-"
Ron swallowed as Harry suddenly turned back to him with a stunned look on his face.
"Do you mean… He's going to…."
Ron nodded unwillingly. "But you didn't hear it from me mate."
Harry opened his mouth to say something but no words would come out. He turned away, head spinning.
After another minute of silence, Ron cleared his throat.
"Er, you're going to say yes, right?"
A slow smile stretched across Harry's face as he stared out at the empty clearing. "Yeah, course I am. I'm completely daft for the git after all."
Ron grinned, pleased for his oldest and dearest friend; long ago accustomed to the bizarre idea of Harry being with Malfoy.
They fell into silence then, shifting their gaze between the clearing and Robards, who was stationed next to them. They had no magic, so no way of communicating with each other; all they could do was just sit and wait for the bad guys to show up.
And an hour later, they finally did.
As Harry leapt out from behind their shelter, he was surprised by how many of them there were; there must have been about fifteen witches and wizards walking out of the fog from the other side of the clearing, which meant that the Aurors were slightly outnumbered.
Harry just hoped that they hadn't prepared in advance for an ambush.
Harry withdrew his compact black taser as he ran out with Ron, the Aurors all around them springing into action as they raced into the open…
. . . .
Draco stood in the kitchen, surveying the contents of the cupboards and wondering whether he could be bothered to cook dinner or not when the doorbell suddenly rang.
He turned away with a sigh of relief for the distraction and headed down the short hall to the door.
Weasley stood on the other side; dressed in filthy Auror robes, face pale and haunted, eyes red-rimmed.
Draco froze, the sudden urge to slam the door in Ron's face nearly overpowering him.
Ron swallowed and his expression crumpled a little as he stared back at him. "Malfoy…"
Draco began to shake his head, unable to stop, denying everything that was plainly written across Ron Weasley's face.
"Harry… he…"
"No." Draco backed away until he bumped up against the wall behind him and then numbly slid down to the floor, head still shaking in denial.
Tears rolled unchecked down Ron's cheeks as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"No." This time when Draco said the word, his tone wasn't vehement, it was tortured and broken and pleading; begging Ron to refute it.
Ron walked over and slowly sat on the floor in front of him.
They sat in silence for a very long time; until the afternoon sky turned black and the lights of the city began to glow outside the windows, and still they sat, neither one wanting to break the silence, neither one of them wanting to say another word.
As though not speaking the truth kept it from being real.
. . . .
Harry moaned as he slowly came to, the excruciating pain in his body quickly reminding him what had happened.
He tilted his head back and looked up towards the cliff edge which he'd fallen over during the skirmish with Geary's group. He couldn't even see the rocky edge for the thick fog that surrounded the mountain.
He cursed under his breath, knowing that no one would be able to see him on the rocky ledge he'd managed to land on nearly thirty metres down from the top.
He knew he was lucky to be alive, but what good was it if no one knew he was even there? He couldn't Disapparate or send a Patronus or do anything useful without his magic. His only hope was that the Aurors would come looking for him.
He glanced up again, biting his lip against the pain, and felt his stomach twist with despair. There was no way they were going to find him; they would have to use another helicopter and stick close to the mountainside in order to spot him through the fog. Anyone looking over the edge from the top would just assume he'd fallen to his death.
Harry dropped his head back onto the ground with a soft whimper of pain; hoping unconsciousness would find him again soon.
. . . .
"How the fuck did The Prophet find out already?"
"'Mione," Ron exclaimed in surprise, darting a glance at their daughter who was sitting nearby with some colourful wooden blocks.
Hermione rubbed her eyes, looking exhausted. "Sorry," she said with a weary sigh. "I just… I know he hated it when the Prophet wrote articles on him and now that he's…"
Ron quickly wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed the top of her head. "I know," he said in understanding. "I don't think Rose heard you anyway," he added.
Hermione sniffed and buried her face in the side of Ron's neck, grateful for his arms around her.
"Is Malfoy still sleeping?" Ron asked, voice muffled by her wild curls.
She nodded and pulled back to look at him. "I heard him up last night at about three, so I offered him a Dreamless Sleep this morning and I think he finally took it. He's been asleep for about two hours now." She paused, brown eyes full of sorrow. "He's such a mess Ron. I don't know how he's going to get through this."
Ron nodded, not knowing what else to say. He didn't know how any of them were going to get through it, but at least he had Hermione.
Hermione pulled back to look up into his face. "I told him he could stay here for as long as needed to," she said firmly. "I went and fetched some of his things today. I don't want him going back to their flat yet." She glanced towards the empty staircase before continuing in a whisper. "I know he has the engagement ring here, I walked in on him holding it. He tried to hide it but… I saw what it was."
Ron felt the hot prickle of tears again, wondering just how many times a person could cry in a twenty-four hour period. "Fuck," he swore under his breath, trying to get his emotions under control as a tear squeezed out and trailed down his cheek. "Harry told me he was going to say yes," he told her, voice thick with emotion. "He looked so happy. I'm glad he found out before he…"
Hermione was crying again too, but she was also smiling a little at the thought of Harry's reaction. "Me too," she whispered.
"I don't think I'll tell Malfoy though, it… it might make it worse."
Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes with one hand. "One day he'll be ready to hear it," she said quietly.
. . . .
Draco sat at the Weasley's kitchen table, staring listlessly at Rose in her high-chair, smashing cereal bits into her mouth and hair, while all of Harry's friends and adoptive family members stood around loudly planning his funeral.
He didn't feel anything now except a hollow sort of numbness which filled his chest, even his mind was blessedly blank and emotionless. He supposed it was shock, and a part of him worried about what was going to happen when he snapped out of it.
"Draco?"
Draco blinked slowly and looked over to see Luna Lovegood taking the seat next to him. She shuffled the chair closer and leaned her head in to speak quietly while the others talked around them.
"Was there anything in particular that you think Harry would have wanted for his service? Is there anything you want?"
"I want Harry back," he retorted without any real heat behind it. "Sorry," he immediately added, but even his apology lacked emotion.
Luna smiled softly in understanding, waiting for him to speak first.
Draco finally turned to look at her. "I don't want The Prophet there - or any press. Harry hated attention."
Luna nodded. "I believe Hermione has that covered." She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It must be difficult when someone you love is taken from you so suddenly and you don't even have the chance to say goodbye, or to even say a last I love you." She paused, large eyes watching him thoughtfully. "I thought it might be a good idea to write letters to Harry, with anything you wish you could've said to him before he died."
Draco swallowed, gaze shifting back to Rose in her high-chair. His eyes felt so dry and sore. "I don't think I could do that," he finally uttered.
"Think about it," she said gently, glancing up as Neville came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "We're all writing one and bringing them to the funeral to place in the casket. We're not reading them out loud or anything like that, they're going to remain sealed, so if you decide you want to as well then feel free to bring one." Her soft smile was full of empathy as she looked at him. "It might help you too."
Draco's brow furrowed as Neville kissed the top of Luna's head and he distantly realised that he was the only one in the room, besides the baby, that didn't have a spouse there.
He felt a flash of anger and unfairness, and he suddenly couldn't stand the thought of being there any longer.
He roughly pushed back from the table and stood.
Hermione glanced over at him with concern.
"Excuse me." He quickly strode from the room and up the stairs, uncaring of the group falling silent behind him.
He shut the door to the guest room which Ron and Hermione had set up for him and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing hard. He reached into his trouser pocket and removed the simple gold band, holding it in his hand and allowing the metal to warm to his skin, hoping it might calm him a little.
He hadn't even had the chance to even think of an inscription yet; the inside of the band was shiny and empty.
Draco closed his fingers around the ring and closed his eyes; that hollow feeling threatening to swallow him whole.
He wanted to see and speak to Harry so fucking badly that it had manifested itself into this painful sort of ache inside his body; this yearning that would not be tempered until he could tell Harry everything he wanted to say. If only he'd known that that morning was to be their last together, he'd have told Harry that he loved him instead of making jokes about drinking his coffee. He would have told him how much he meant to him.
Draco slowly opened his eyes, staring unseeing across the small room.
Maybe Luna's idea wasn't so crazy.
. . . .
Harry wrapped his thick cloak closer around himself and tucked his arms inside, beyond grateful that he had his gloves, even if they were a sharp reminder of Draco.
He tried not to feel the despair that threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of being stuck there forever, of dying there and never seeing Draco again and how much that will hurt him; especially now that he knew about Draco's plans for Christmas.
Even if he had the equipment to climb up the rock wall at his back, he was too injured to attempt it. He was trying very hard to not think about the fact that he couldn't move his legs.
Harry withdrew his wand and tried for the fifteenth time to make something happen, to conjure a Patronus or to transform a rock into a broom…
"Accio rope," Harry cast hopelessly, staring into the thick fog and begging the universe to allow magic, just for a few seconds…
Harry slowly lowered his wand with a frown when he suddenly spotted something approaching out of the fog. He felt a flare of hope - until he realised that it was just a bird.
He flopped back against the rock wall, tucking his wand into his cloak once more and settling in to wait for the inevitable. At least the excruciating pain had faded into the background a bit now, mostly from the numbing cold, but still, small mercies.
Harry startled when the bird suddenly flapped right up to his small ledge. And suddenly he could see that it wasn't a bird at all but an owl.
It looked like Ron's owl, and it was bearing a letter for him.
Harry's eyes widened and he immediately reached out and snatched the sealed envelope from the bird's foot.
"Don't you dare go anywhere," Harry growled at the owl when it looked like it was about to take flight and leave him again. "I have a reply."
Harry tore into the envelope, slid out the folded parchment and began to read:
Harry,
It took me twenty minutes just to write your name, I know you would laugh at that if you knew, so there you have it.
I don't think you've ever seen me quite this much of a wreck Potter, not even during the war. Even Granger and Weasley are worried about me.
This was Luna's idea, just in case you thought I'd gone mad. I wasn't going to do it but now that I've started, it feels like I'm actually speaking to you. Merlin, I wish that was true more than anything Harry. Everyone is here planning your funeral and I hope you don't mind that I'm not participating. I can't Potter. I know I will regret not ensuring that every detail is what you would have wanted, but… I can't do it. I won't.
It feels like I will never accept the fact that you're gone because it doesn't feel like you are. It feels like you're merely at work and any moment now you will walk through the door with that ridiculous smile and boxes of take-away because neither of us ever feels like cooking. One minute you were in our kitchen with me and the next I hear that you've been killed during a raid. It doesn't feel real.
I don't know the details of how you died; I told Weasley that I didn't want to know. I don't want to imagine what you went through or think about your last moments…
I just want to think about you under the mistletoe with me in our flat. That's where you belong.
Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I won't finish it, and I probably won't bring it to the funeral, but maybe I'll just keep writing letters to you in order to say the things I should've said when I had the chance. I should've told you that I loved you before you left that morning. I should've said it every time you went to work because there was always a chance that one day you wouldn't come back to me no matter how much I refused to entertain the idea, and now that it's happened, I regret not saying it so much. I know you know it, but I should've said it all the same Potter, because you meanmeant more to me than anyone else ever has in my life.
I wish you were here to accept the ring that is now rattling around in my pocket. I wish…
Harry, I can't
Harry flipped the parchment over but it was blank. It looked like Draco hadn't finished it.
Harry swallowed as his eyes tracked over Draco's handwriting, noting the unsteady penmanship and the ink splotches which riddled the page. It spoke volumes of what Draco was going through so very far away from where Harry was trapped on his freezing mountain ledge.
Draco thought he was dead. Apparently everyone did, just as he'd suspected.
Harry quickly withdrew his small Auror notepad from his cloak and pulled loose the attached pencil. He flipped Draco's letter over and began to write as slowly as possible, his hand all the while shaking from the cold and rush of adrenaline. This was his only chance and he was determined to make it work.
Draco,
It's Harry, I'm not dead.
Harry paused and couldn't think of a more tactful way to put that so he left it and continued.
I fell off a cliff and landed on a ledge about thirty metres down in the fog. No one could see me. Send rescue group with Muggle equipment, magic does not work here. Ron will know where.
He hesitated and then quickly added.
Tell whoever is coming to get me that I'm injured and can't move my legs. Please hurry. I love you.
Harry folded it with shaking fingers and inserted it back into the envelope. He tied it onto the owl's leg as securely as possible and then looked the dark little owl in the eye.
"This message is for Draco Malfoy, it is very important that he get it. I will give you a crate full of mice if you deliver this as fast as you can," he promised fervently, his life resting on the whim of Ron's owl.
The owl blinked his large eyes and then took flight, disappearing quickly in the swirl of fog.
Harry leaned back, feeling light-headed again, and hoped to Merlin that Draco got the letter in time.
. . . .
Draco looked up from where he was seated in an old pink armchair next to the window to see Hermione standing in the open doorway, holding a cup of tea.
"I know you said you weren't hungry but I thought that you should at least have a cup of tea," she explained with a tentative smile. "No, don't get up," she said as Draco made to stand. She quickly stepped into the room and walked over to pass it to him before sitting on the edge of the unmade bed.
"Thank you," Draco finally said before taking a sip and then resting the cup and saucer on his knee, eyes downcast.
"Ron said he's sorry about Thaddaeus stealing your letter, he's not a very obedient owl," she said, trying to think of something to say to break the oppressive silence. She noted the hollow gaze and dark circles under his eyes when he looked up. "Is there anything you need?"
Draco shook his head. "No thank you, you've done enough."
Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around herself with a sigh. "You know, I still don't believe he's really gone," she said quietly, looking out the window. "Harry has beaten death so many times that I actually thought he would do it forever, you know?"
Draco dropped his gaze back to his tea and nodded.
"I wish I'd encouraged him to take another career path when he was thinking about it."
Draco glanced up. "When was that?"
"Years ago," she answered with a soft smile, turning back to him. "He wasn't sure if he wanted to join the Aurors or not, he was feeling tired after the war and wondered if he'd just be thrust into the spotlight even more if he pursued a Ministry job."
Draco took a sip of his tea and swallowed. "He never told me about that."
"He's probably forgotten about it to be honest," Hermione replied. "That boy never did take time out for himself, never takes… took a break."
Draco smiled sadly, gaze dropping back to his half-empty cup. "I was working on that," he said softly. "Trying to convince him to go on holiday with me to Bali. We hadn't planned it or anything, but he'd said he'd go wherever I wanted to because he'd never been anywhere, so whatever I chose would be brilliant."
Hermione smiled even as her vision blurred with tears. "That sounds like Harry."
Draco bit his lip to hold back the threatening sob. "I don't regret it, you know. I don't regret falling in love with him and only having two years together. I feel lucky that I had even that."
Hermione nodded, tears falling onto her jean-clad thighs. "Me too."
Draco couldn't look at her because he knew he would lose control of his tightly reined-in emotions. He took another sip of his tea and just breathed. He could fall apart at night, when there was no one there to see it.
The two startled when an owl suddenly tapped rather aggressively at the window.
Draco recognised the same black and brown owl that had stolen his letter to Harry, and it appeared that the owl had finally brought it back because it realised the recipient was no longer alive to receive it.
Draco set his tea aside and opened the window to receive the letter. The owl then flew through the room and out into the hallway, having done his duty.
Draco fingered the envelope sadly for a second before suddenly noticing that the seal had been broken. "Somebody's read this," he muttered with a flash of anger.
"What?" Hermione said as she wiped at her eyes. "Who would have done that?"
Draco slid out the crumpled letter and noticed that there was additional writing now on the back of it.
His heart stopped and his grey eyes widened as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. His whole body froze with shock as he read it, and then he read it again.
He looked up as Hermione slowly rose to her feet, a bemused frown on her face as she watched him.
"Harry's alive."
. . . .
Harry vainly tried to curl onto his side to get a bit warmer but the stab of pain in his lower body quickly stopped him as he gasped out in pain.
He roughly wiped the tear from his cheek as it spilled over. He couldn't help but feel a bleak hopelessness set in the longer he waited. It felt like days had passed since that bloody owl had sailed off with his letter. Anything could've happened to it, flying from the mountains of Spain to London was no easy feat.
He'd fallen in and out of consciousness ever since, swiftly losing track of time.
He quickly began to long for the stretches of blissful unconsciousness.
Harry heard a strange noise above him and stopped moving. He held his breath and listened hard, hope flaring in his chest when it sounded like voices on the wind.
He squinted up towards the cliff edge when some loose debris and dust fell all around him on the ledge. He still couldn't see through the fog, but something was happening, that much was clear.
Harry kept staring upwards as he waited, hand clenched tight around his wand.
After what felt like forever, Harry finally spotted a person suspended by a rope and harness high above him.
Harry felt his entire body go limp with relief as he exhaled.
The person on the harness turned out to be one of Harry's fellow Aurors, Mike Neill.
"You all right there Harry?" Mike called down as he approached, boots flat against the rock as he smoothly made his way down the side of the mountain in smooth little hops and jumps.
"Better now," Harry replied, ignoring the stabbing pain when he pushed up on his elbows. He spotted what looked like a white collapsible stretcher attached to Mike's belt.
Mike landed on Harry's ledge and pulled down some slack in the rope before turning to him and crouching down. "I heard you can't move. Broken legs?"
"Dunno," Harry replied tensely. "I can't move them, and it fucking hurts."
Mike nodded and then began to set up the stretcher and attach it to a secondary rope that was lowered down. "Well, there are some people waiting for you at St. Mungo's that will be very happy to see you." He glanced at Harry with a twinkle in his eye. "Your boyfriend demanded to be brought here for the rescue but Robards wouldn't let him, he was worried this place could still be compromised even though we captured Geary."
Harry's answering smile was tinged with affection. "Draco wouldn't have liked that."
"Nope, he didn't," Mike quipped completing the set-up and then turning to him. "Don't worry, we have an International Portkey ready to go at Rascafria. It'll take you straight to St. Mungo's."
Harry nodded, unable to speak any longer as Mike shifted his broken body onto the stretcher as carefully as he could. It still hurt. A lot. Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
Somewhere between being strapped into the stretcher and then lifted up the mountain-side, he lost consciousness again.
The next time he opened his eyes, Harry was warm and safely tucked into a hospital bed, the pain muted to a vaguely dull ache.
Next to his bed was a very dishevelled blond man sitting stiffly in a plastic chair.
"Who are you and what have you done with my impeccable boyfriend?" Harry rasped, throat raw.
Draco seemed to crumple at Harry's teasing smile, regardless of how weak it was. "You were fucking dead Potter," he replied tightly.
Harry's smile faded and he held open his arms.
"I shouldn't; you're hurt," Draco responded haltingly, glancing towards the door but clearly wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed next to him.
"I don't care," Harry said stubbornly.
Draco hesitated for the briefest of moments before standing and then carefully lying alongside his boyfriend in the narrow hospital bed, trying not to jostle him.
"So… I got your letter," Harry eventually said as Draco stared at him, appearing to just drink in the sight of him.
Draco blinked out of his distracted thoughts and reached up to smooth a hand down the side of Harry's face, thumb rubbing lightly over one cheekbone. "Thank fuck," he replied, surprising a huff of laughter out of Harry. "I don't ever want to go through that again."
Harry took Draco's hand in his own and held it tight. "I'm sorry," he said, knowing he'd never be able to make it up to him. He would've lost his mind if their positions had been reversed and he'd thought Draco dead. "Do you want me to quit?"
Draco's grey eyes widened a fraction. "You would do that?"
Harry nodded, gaze locked on his boyfriend's expression.
"No, you'd hate me if I did that to you," Draco finally replied with a sigh. "You love your job."
"I love you more though," Harry responded firmly.
Draco allowed a fond smile to tug at his lips. "I know you do Potter. Just be more careful, all right?"
Harry smiled and shifted a little. "Doesn't feel like I'll be jumping right back into action anyway," he said with a questioning lilt to his response.
Draco's gaze flicked down to Harry's sheet-covered legs for a second. "No, a shattered pelvis will do that Potter. The Healer said you'll need a few months of therapy and then you'll be fine though. And you'll need a cane to start off with."
Harry nodded, not really caring. When the alternative was death, anything sounded rather good. "So I'm not quite ready to walk down the aisle then?" he said with a tiny grin.
Draco smiled. "Physically or emotionally?"
Harry laughed and squeezed his hand. "Just physically," he assured.
Draco leaned away for a second to reach down and remove the gold band from his pocket. "You'll be needing this then. If you want."
Harry looked at the shiny ring and nodded, heart swelling with too many emotions to speak. He couldn't believe how close he was to losing everything.
Draco seemed to understand how he was feeling and silently slipped the ring onto his finger. "It fits," he whispered emotionally.
"You know, I would've said yes even without the near death experience," Harry said, wanting Draco to know his acceptance wasn't circumstantial.
Draco chuckled, tearing his gaze away from his ring on Harry's finger. "I know Potter. Nobody refuses a Malfoy."
Harry smiled. "Not quite what you had in mind though, was it?"
Draco's expression turned serious. "I don't care about that. Yesterday I was planning your funeral."
Harry combed his fingers through Draco's hair. "At least you know that I won't be called in to work this Christmas," he finally said, not really knowing what else to say. He knew nothing would make up for what Draco had had to endure over the past few days.
Draco swallowed, eyes slightly glassy. "Yes, there is that," he acknowledged with a shaky smile.
Harry returned the smile, gaze warm and full of love. "Happy Christmas Draco."
Draco squeezed Harry's hand, the cool metal of the ring pressing against his skin and reminding him that this was real; that Harry was alive and right there in front of him.
"Happy Christmas Harry."