Draco's P.O.V
"Harry, I don't Think I can do it," I turn to look at the black haired boy, wetting my t-shirt with dishwater.
He softly pecks my lips, "You'll do Just fine, if they love you, they'll except you. You have to do it sooner than later."
"I pick later."
"I told my family the minute we went out to lunch, they reacted fine," his chin resting against my shoulder.
"Easy for you to say, Mr. Muggleborn Mum, Jail ridden Godfather, and werewolf Uncle."
The green eyed boy chuckles, gently nuzzling the back of my neck, "Fair enough."
"Come, into the parlour," I drain the sink and dry my hands.
After the battle I haven't used magic as much, mostly due to fear of being shut in Azkaban and Harry being at my beck and call. We went out for coffee after he spoke in me, and my mothers favours during trials; I, rather unfortunately, fell in love with the boy.
"Mother, Father, I hope you enjoyed dinner?" I say, meanwhile situating myself on the sofa.
A Dip in the couch tells me Harry has joined us. He rests his hand on my lower back, incognito.
"Dinner was just fine Draco," my fathers words are followed by a sip of wine.
My mother huffs, "Draco, you've never invited us to dinner before, why now?"
I ever thought statements said by mothers could ever deflate ones esteem.
"Mother, I'm, um, I'm," my heart beat picks up pace.
Harry's hand begins to move in soothing, circular motions, "Take a deep breath."
"I'm Gay."
My nerves only deepen when the look of shock finally registers on my parents faces. Their eyes contorted upwards, noses scrunched and lips in thin lines.
My Mother is the first to snap out of the face, "Draco, we love you, no matter what; you're our only son."
"Draco," My father spits, "I was quite the bi-curious lad in my sixth year, who's the guy."
I never thought they'd be so calm about the situation, or that my father was into blokes, It'll take weeks to get that image out of my head. I intertwine my fingers with Harry's calloused ones.
"Harrys the lucky guy," my eyes lock with his, before my cheeks flourish red.
Mothers gloved hands fly to her mouth to suppress a gasp, "For how long?"
Harry turns towards her, our eye contact finally breaking, "A year and three months."
A smack reverberates through my arm, "Draco," mother screeches, "so long without telling me."
"Sorry mum," I shrug.
She pulls me into a bone crushing hug, "It's not a problem dear, I just want Grandkids sooner rather than later."
"Don't worry Mrs. Malfoy, we've already filled out applications," Harry pipes up, earning himself a smack.