Written for Otaku Girls Cape Town's Harry Potter Month Fanworks Contest, and for Devon's subsequent Day of Drarry Admin Challenge. Inspired by Cowardlykatz 'Fingerprints'.

Prompts: Fluff, established relationship, one day only.

Restrictions: no smut (kind of implied though)

Draco hated his job. It was bad enough that the Malfoygate scandal had ended any chance he could ever have of working in the experimental surgical healing field again, but to end up working at a circus? Merlin, the embarrassment.

There was barely anything for a Healer to do at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes anyway. All Draco had to do was an endless parade of check-ups, before and after every show. And he couldn't even complain about the lack of work without Granger sniping at him about wanting to bring bad luck on the performers.

Some days, Draco was so desperate for something to do he even contemplated breaking his own arm, just to see if he could still heal it. Salazar, how did he get from curing exotic colds and performing life-altering surgeries to telling the Weasley clowns that they could get shot out of the canon today?

May father rot in Azkaban.

There were some perks, though. Most of them involved leaving his station every night to watch the performance. It was captivating as it was the first time he had seen it.

Magic mixed with physical talent in the big top, stealing the breath from Muggle and wizard-born alike. Charlie's beasts were perfectly trained to perform unthinkable stunts; Ginny and Fleur practically danced in the air on the trapeze; Bill and Percy brought French folk tales to life with stunning 'light' and life-size puppet shows; Luna's choreography rose and fell under rosy lights and sparkling glitter; the Weasley twins easily transitioned from acrobats defying physical norms to clowns that dragged laughter from even the most unwilling throat. The joint performances were even better, with dramatic music juxtaposing gorgeous props and sensual dances. And Harry…

Harry was sublime.

He swooped through the air on the wind's gentle breath. His tight-fitting black outfit was illuminated by cool light with every arch of his back. His muscles strained and glistened with sweat as he passed over the crowd, holding onto long swathes of green silk. A Venetian mask covered his face, but Draco knew Harry was glowing with joy underneath it.

Harry twisted gracefully in the air and slipped lower, until he was but a few feet above the crowd. Draco always chose a seat that was almost directly below Harry for this part, the most complicated of Harry's routine (and no matter what Ron said, it had nothing to do with how great Harry's ass looked from that angle). The green-eyed boy twisted and twirled as the music flew towards a crescendo. When the violins stopped, Harry froze in place. His lips panted; his dark hair was mussed; his arms were twisted behind his back while his right leg pointed to the ceiling.

As happened every performance, his masked eyes seemed to be looking at Draco. Tonight, it couldn't be anyone else since the seats around Draco were empty. Harry smiled. Draco felt magic coalescing around him but he couldn't tear his eyes from Harry's suggestive pose. The music started up again. In a shower of silver glitter, Harry swept away to join Ron's elaborate sword act.

Only then could the healer glance down and gather the white roses to his chest.

He left them in his sleeping tent, keeping only one on him during the post-performance drinks. He tried to keep up his usual snark, but every time Harry smiled, he was reminded that tonight was their anniversary. Granger had also not forgotten, and toasted him for his first year of service with the circus. Draco politely reserved his usual sneer for the bushy-haired manager.

And finally, finally, they were alone in their tent and in between kisses and glitter falling on the bunching sheets, Harry laughingly recalled their first time. No matter what Draco did with his tongue, hands or hips, his lover would not shut up. Even later, arms wrapped around each other in warm contentment, Harry still slurred his desire to take Draco on another late night flight through the circus tent.

If asked, Draco would blame his rapidly beating heart on the reminder of that thrilling moment when he got to experience Harry's world. In truth, the thumping had nothing to do with Harry's words, but more with his everyday experience of Harry. Because the greedy hands that never let him wander too far from his lover's warmth and the sloppy kisses given in the sleepy moments between dreams and reality were worth every second of the mundane job the circus provided.

Draco turned as far as Harry's embrace would let him and placed the last of the roses on their bedside table. In the dull light that shone through the window, the white glowed like a silent promise.