Title: How to Be Draco's Lover

Summary: Being in a relationship with Draco Malfoy was not all it was cracked up to be. He was uptight, a complete pain in bed, an annoyingly horrible perfectionist, and obsessed with beauty. All in all, Harry was more inclined to smack him in the back of the head than deal with him most days. Then again, Harry couldn't picture his life without Draco anymore and there was something to be said about that too.

Warnings: References to Sex.

Disclaimer: I am writing this for fun. I don't own Harry Potter or the characters herein.

Harry was more disposed to collapse into bed once he got home from his job of being an Auror. But if he did that, Draco would shriek some nonsense about cleanliness and dignity and taking a bath before going to bed. And no matter how tired Harry was, it simply wasn't possible to sleep when Draco was going off in his ear.

So, he would raise himself from the bed, stumble into the bathroom, and take a bath, which he refused to admit made his muscles loosen and soothe the cramps from running around. He almost always fell asleep in the bath and would wake up to Draco draining the bath, drying him off and carrying him back to bed. Harry would murmur contentedly and bury his head in Draco's chest while Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair.

"Now, mon amour" Draco's chest rumbled as he spoke, "isn't this so much better than sleeping in your Auror robes and getting the sheets dirty?" Harry would always fall asleep before he could think of an appropriately backhanded response.

Because Draco couldn't possible be right.

It wasn't that Harry didn't enjoy waking up with Draco between his legs, but being brought so tantalizingly close to the edge only to have Draco squeeze the base of his cock to hold off his orgasm because:

"You can only come when I say you can, Harry," and Harry would whimper.

Draco was never gentle when he thrust into Harry. He was never rough enough that Harry was terribly in pain or that he really wanted Draco to stop but he'd cursed Draco out more than once. Usually because Draco'd never believed in giving Harry a minute to adjust to the feeling of his cock inside of him. Or to believe Harry's protests against being tied up or blindfolded and gagged.

"Come now, love," Draco would usually say. "You know you love giving up control to me." Harry would squirm but what could he really do when he felt his erection growing between his legs. "Besides," he could feel Draco's mouth on his neck even though he couldn't see though the blindfold. "You know I love to see you sprawled out like this, completely dependent on me." His tongue flicked out. "Unable to attend to yourself." Draco smiled against Harry's skin.

He always made a point of brushing against Harry's prostate but never hitting it directly. He would drag Harry so close to the edge it was painful, with Harry yanking against the bonds and almost sobbing against his gag. Then finally, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Draco would remove all of Harry bonds with a flick of his wand and look right into Harry's eyes.

"Come for me now, mon amour." He would say. And Harry would. He would come screaming so hard he would almost always black out and when he came to, Draco would be snuggled up to his chest, murmuring about how much he loved Harry and how beautiful he was and how he would never let him go and Harry would fall asleep in his arms, thinking his wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Harry was usually late to work.

It was funny, for someone who was as uptight as Draco, Harry would have expected him to be more concerned about being on time, but Draco always told him:

"It's better to be fashionably late than seem desperately early, mon amour." And really Harry never won the argument between them anyway.

Besides, even if they tried to get there on time they'd never manage because Draco always seemed to take an hour to get dressed. Oh, not because he needed to full hour but because he couldn't decide what to wear or how to wear his hair or if he should wear any accessories. It was a constant struggle.

"I have nothing to wear!" Was usually proclaimed, throughout the house. If Harry even tried to open his mouth, Draco would cast him a scornful look. He'd learned in the beginning of their relationship that Harry had absolutely no fashion sense.

"Draco, you'll look amazing in anything you put on." Harry would usually tell him.

"But I don't want to look amazing." Draco would whine. "I want to look perfect!" They would have a runway of all the possible outfits and Harry ended up learning more than he ever wanted to know about fashion or what could or should match what. But in the end, he found that he didn't mind watching Draco dress and undress for every event nearly as much as he thought he would.

It finally came to the point that Harry would just buy Draco a new outfit every time he knew they were going out. Draco would always gripe, and then he would wear the outfit Harry-or rather the sales attendant with the help of Hermione- had picked out. Harry would throw Draco a smile and kiss him. Draco would cough and and turn his face away.

Harry would still see the blush though.

Draco made a point of making sure Harry didn't dress in what he called:

"Those tiresome rags that you wore to Hogwarts," he would always sniff at the end of that statement and mutter under his breath, "And I would never be seen in anything so unflattering."

The unfortunate downside was that other people now took notice of Harry's 'beauty' as Draco called it. It had taken a long time for Harry to accept that he was not only good looking but beautiful. He knew he couldn't trust the masses who might only be interested in him because of his name and he didn't trust Draco because Draco might only be dating him because of a mental attraction, no matter his words to the contrary.

It was only after living with Draco for some time that Harry became aware that his perception of himself could be wrong. Draco was completely obsessed with beauty. He would hang mirrors on all available surfaces, stare at things he considered handsome or pretty, making a point that Harry would notice them also, even if they were other men or women—much to Harry's annoyance. Though is Harry objected, Draco would just snort and say:

"Just because I appreciate their beauty doesn't mean I want to bed them, mon amour."

Draco treated him the same way. Stared at his face, his body, fixed his eyes on Harry from across the room as if to lose sight of Harry would be to lose something precious. It probably took too long for Harry to realize that Draco really, truly considered him beautiful, physically beautiful, not just mentally. And Draco would never lie about what he found beauty-about what he found precious.

He would never lie about who his love was. Draco just wasn't that kind of person.

That was the first night he truly gave in to all the sensations Draco could give him. After their rather passionate and overwhelming experience came to a close, Draco turned his head so his cheek was against Harry's chest and looked up into his eyes, his gray eyes gleaming with unfettered joy.

"What brought that on?" He'd asked.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" Harry had returned. Draco blinked

"No," He'd answered and Harry's whole body tensed. Draco shimmied up to captured Harry's lips with his own. "I think you're gorgeous."

"Bastard," Harry'd said against Draco's lips, his heart still pounding from the possible rejection. Draco had just smiled wider and brushed his cheek across Harry's to murmur straight into his ear.

"Yet, you'd stay here forever, wouldn't you, mon amour." He'd said, and Harry shivered.

"I'd leave right now," Harry had told him as he raised his arms and drew Draco closer to his body. Just because Draco couldn't possibly be right about something.