Well. Here was my first prompt - Post-Hogwarts, Draco is in a relationship with Astoria but starts noticing how good Harry looks in the Prophet. However, things escalate (your decision on how, but there has to be AT LEAST one kissing scene) and it results in either Harry, Draco or both dying. - and at first I was skeptical and didn't want to but I knew that it would be good. So here it is!
Draco was difficult, to say the least. As much as he loved Astoria, he knew Harry would always have a special place in his heart. Harry had become an Auror and everyone knew he would, and everyone also agreed he was great at it. As such, he made the Daily Prophet almost every time Draco read it, and it was getting increasingly hard to hide those damn feelings he had hid so well since the moment Draco met him.
"Draco?" Astoria asked over breakfast, "Is something wrong love?"
"No dear. Nothing at all." He replied, maybe too hastily.
"Did you see this morning's headline?" she asked.
"No, was it important?" was it about Harry? His mind screamed.
Her only response was sliding the Prophet over to his side of the table. As Draco pulled it up and unfolded it the picture was of Ginny throwing something at Harry, and Draco couldn't understand what or why exactly. Or ever where they were, but there she was repeatedly doing it. Is Potter's Big Break, Making the Big Break?
Draco laughed at the pathetic title. Not so much at Harry though, who looked like all he needed was a friend. And since his 'friends' were siblings of the woman whipping objects at him, it was doubtful he would get a friend.
Astoria cleared her throat, "I know the two of you have never been. Well – close." Draco raised his gaze to hers, "but I think it's awful what he must be going through. And Ron being Ginny's sister has to be affecting this too. Would it be too much to ask if you could try to be nice? At least for his trying time."
Draco sighed, "Dear, those immature times are behind us, I am fully capable of being there for a man down. I'll go find him. Shouldn't be that hard." And he Floo out.
To Draco's surprise, it really wasn't all that hard to find Harry. He guessed he'd be in Three Broom Sticks or Hog's Head. And of course, Harry still had to be in the grosser place of the two.
Draco sat down in the dingy chair across from Harry, "Hello. How have you been?"
Harry looked up in disbelief, "How have I been!?" he hissed, "My wife, is about to take my kids and leave me, my best friends are on her side! You haven't spoken to me since Kings Cross when we saw our kids get on the train together, and you of all people are here to say 'How have you been?' What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?"
"Nothing is wrong with me Potter." Draco spat, "All I came here for was to make sure you weren't dead, I figured you could use someone to talk to. And since you're here alone, I guess I'm right." Draco locked Harry's eyes, and actually smiled, "Now, tell me about this headline."
Somewhere along the lines, Harry had drunk more, and Draco had started. Draco had apparently also invited Harry to stay until the thing with Ginny had cooled down.
When they stumbled out of the Floo, Astoria was there to greet them. Not very pleasant with her frown either.
"Where were you?! You left eight hours ago!" She looked at both men, glossy eyed, clinging to each other, in fear of falling over, both a down right mess. Astoria thought if she took a picture and showed sober Draco, drunk Draco he'd turn white and fall over.
"I'ph 'ad a phew drinkssss." Draco slurred, Harry giggling next to him like a school girl.
"You smell disgusting. You are not sleeping near me tonight. And you will not touch Scorpius' room. You both can share the guest room until you're sober." And she stormed off in her lacey pink nightgown that was no doubt meant for something special.
After stumbling and helping each other up to the guest room, Harry striped down to his boxers and fell asleep on the blankets. Draco not even bothering to strip climbed in and fell asleep next to Harry in the double bed.
The next morning, when Harry sat up he noticed the green in place of the red walls. The canopy over the bed instead of the ceiling. When he rolls over he notices Draco, curled up sleeping like a porcelain doll. He does look… cute. Harry silently curses himself for even thinking that, Draco's married, just like he is.
Harry does remember most of last night, up to the point where Astoria didn't look pleased with the state of her husband. He even remembers holding Draco up by the waist, and the way his breath hitched when Draco fell against him and how even the sickly sweet scent of Draco's intoxicated breath made him want to touch Draco, in ways he can remember thinking of in their years at Hogwarts, not that he'd ever mention those. He remembers the way they fit together in the bathroom. The way Draco had spilled almost every secret to him, whispered in his ear like high school lovers.
It takes Harry a moment to realize what he's doing, and by the time he does – it's too late, and he doesn't even care. His hands cradle Draco's head and waist, as he brings Draco's mouth to meet his. He knows it's wrong, and wildly inappropriate, but he has to. Besides Draco isn't awake yet.
Harry's chapped lips touch Draco's perfect, soft, lush lips, and in that moment his eyes flutter shut. He's so caught up in the moment he can barely register the arms slipping around his neck, tangling in his messy, Potter black hair. He forgets they're both married. He forgets where they are. He forgets Draco's wife is in the same house and already mad at him. None of it matters though, Harry's tongue slithers past Draco's lips, and he feels the man shiver and pull himself more into Harry's chest – if that was even possible – and push their tongues in a battle of secret love and passion. Harry lets his hands wander, under Draco's shirt, brushing his muscles, feeling his build, his heart beat. The two can barely breath, so they finally pull away.
"Last night," Draco pants, "do you remember what I said?"
"Which part?" Harry laughs, and he knows it's true, Draco said too much for his own good.
"The part about me being in love with you." Draco says, without any embarrassment, because now he's certain that what he feels, Harry does too.
"Ah yes, my favourite sentence of the evening." Harry smiles and kisses Draco on the nose, then something dawns on him, "Wait- weren't you drunk then?"
"I only took one shot Potter" Draco smirks.
"So, all of what you said. All of it, was true?" Harry says with disbelief.
"If it wasn't would I still be sitting here with you, snogging? Even though my wife is here, somewhere, probably plotting my bloody demise." Draco smiled, and it was such a heavenly smile, it was a wonder how he was ever a Death Eater, or a Slytherin.
Harry decided he should go clean up a bit, in the bathroom across the hall. He redressed and was headed out the door when something crashed into him, sending him flying into a mirror, effectively shattering it. Draco sprang from the bed and ran out.
"Harry!" Draco screeched, running over to his side, glass was stuck in his back and the way he was laying only pushed it further, Draco tried to move him, but it just wouldn't work, when one piece stopped pushing another would, and Draco knew he couldn't pull them out or Harry would bleed to death.
"Draco-" Harry gasped, Draco slid closer, "Tell Ginny I'm sorry, but more importantly," Harry yanked Draco down into one more kiss, "I love you Malfoy. Always have."
"Harry…" Draco choked, "Harry no! Please." Draco's tears came, "You can't die now! I love you…"
Draco watched the light drain from Harry's brilliant green eyes, and whispered "I love you" once more before closing them. On the way down the hall to his room he summoned the medics. He knew who had done it. Who had to pay.
The bedroom door was closed, with a large crash the door fell out of its frame. Draco on the other side with his wand in hand. Astoria lay on the bed astonished.
"What's wrong love?" she mused with a light smirk.
"You." Draco spat, "You are what's wrong. Astoria Greengrass. You no longer have the right to my last name. You do have the right to get the hell out of my life, and that is what I am about to do. The Dark Lord and my aunt taught me well remember." He raised his wand, he knew the medics were watching. He knew he had narrowly escaped Azkaban once, but who actually gave a damn now. The man he truly loved had died, at the hands of a merciless whore, "Avada kedavra." And like that she was dead.
The medics had reported him, and he had willingly let himself go to prison, leaving Scorpius to his mother until he was out. His son didn't matter. His dead wife didn't matter. His prison cell didn't matter. Nor did it matter that it had been his aunts. It didn't stop him from hating who he had become. It would never stop him from caring for Harry, no matter how long time kept them apart. But Draco knew, lifting himself off the bed and throwing those chains down, wouldn't matter either, because on the other side of that golden gate. His true love, Harry Potter, would be waiting for him.
