"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry asked bemusedly.
The blond had uprooted all their laundry, thrown the covers back on the bed, and was currently bent double inside the closet, cursing and shuffling around.
"What does it look like I'm doing Potter?"
"Um... I have no idea."
"I'm looking for my wand!" he cried.
"Draco, we're going out to dinner, you won't need your wand unless the service is atrocious and you feel the need to hex the waiter and… wait I don't think you'll need it after all."
Draco poked his head out from the closet and gave Harry a withering look before returning to his quest. Harry cleared his throat.
"This wand?" he asked innocently, twirling the stick of wood casually between his fingertips.
Draco whipped his head around and snatched his wand close to his chest, giving Harry a dragon-sized death glare in the process.
"It was on the nightstand where you always leave it," Harry explicated, hoping to placate the temperamental blond.
"Hurry up, we'll be late," Draco grumped crankily.
"We're perfectly on time and you know it. Oh, and happy anniversary," Harry whispered in his boyfriend's ear. Though the brunet couldn't see it, Draco blushed.