Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe or its characters.

Author's Note: There will be swearing and slash (yaoi, boyxboy, whatever) in this story. Don't like, don't read. This is also relentlessly fluffy and has a lot of implied sex. I think this just happened because I've been studying all night but hope you enjoy!

It seemed like Draco's two favorite words were "Merlin, Potter." Harry had never told his boyfriend that, because he was likely to get a response along the lines of same, and then a minor lecture on how it was sweet, but also a bit weird that Harry noticed his speech patterns. And when Harry pointed out that he had only noticed because Draco used that particular ejaculation so much, he would have to deal with a huffy Draco for the next few hours.

But however Draco might deny it, "Merlin, Potter" usually passed his lips at least three times a day.

The first time would inevitably be in the morning, before breakfast and coffee, because that was when Draco was at his most irritable (unless they had just made love). "Merlin, Potter!" if he burnt the toast, "Merlin, Potter!" if he tried to make tea, and "Merlin, Potter, you're supposed to be the expert on these bloody Muggle appliances anyhow" when the whole debacle was finished. Of course, Draco would still kiss him and say thank you after he'd eaten, even if he only ate a few burnt crumbs and only drank watery tea. He knew the thought was there, and that was what mattered.

Next would be when they came home and Harry would tell him about some new annoying assignment or infraction between himself and the incompetent new secretary, or one of the new Aurors who thought Harry was an old fogey at twenty-eight or had a crush on him. Draco would click his tongue and say, "Merlin, Potter, don't you have a spine? Tell that bloody strumpet you're mine!"

And he would receive a lecture about how he was too self-sacrificing, that was a bad habit, and he needed to start being more selfish. "Or you could be selfish for my sake, if you like," Draco would say exasperatedly. "Just stop suffering for other people. Just think of me whenever you're getting yelled at and just say no."

Harry's eyes would go soft, he'd take Draco's hand, and he'd say, "I'm always thinking of you." Draco would blush faintly and say, "Think of me undressing you, then. Reward, of sorts."

"I see," Harry would say, voice dropping an octave, "so could I get a reward in advance?"

"Merlin, Potter." He would pause for dramatic effect—that was Draco, ever the drama queen—"Yes."

And then—but Harry miscalculated. It was four, usually. Four times a day that Draco would utter "Merlin, Potter," except that the fourth was special, so he had not even included it in the same category.

Anyway, later on, when they were breathing each other's bodies and feeling each other's names on their tongues, Draco would say again, "Merlin, Potter." Except this time Harry would respond with his own exclamation of Draco's name.

This morning, Draco had looked up at him from over his coffee and said, "You've got a bit of a verbal tic too, you know."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? What is it, then?"

Draco had smiled, walked over and put his arms around Harry's neck. "You keep telling me you love me." He kissed Harry's collarbone. "That's a really bad one."

They were late to work that morning.