Dappled sunshine filtered softly down through the golden red canopy above, the air crisp, and the breeze soft. It was quiet, as it almost always is, secluded, hardly anyone around. Which was perfect really, for a moment later the air itself seemed to shimmer, to hum and, with a quiet pop, a young man with a mop of unruly black hair and piercing green eyes appeared in the narrow alleyway between two towering townhouses.
He stumbled slightly, a quick hand darting out to stable himself against the wall, and he blinked up at the pink and orange sky, a slight frown marring his smooth features. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, revealing a thin scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.
Harry Potter brushed a hand down his front and glanced around himself to make sure no one had noticed his sudden appearance. Satisfied, he crossed the narrow road to the other side, his stride long and quick, and stepped through the gate of another townhouse.
This one, like many on the quiet street, had been divided into four modestly spacious apartments. Harry stepped off the path leading to the large, black front door, and pushed through a smaller gate on the left, partly hidden by overgrown brambles and vines that coiled their way over the iron fence. He treaded swiftly down the stone steps leading to the basement flat, and drew out his wand from his sleeve holster. Harry gave it a quick flick as he reached the bottom step and, as he stepped off onto the pebbled path, the air around him shimmered as if he had walked through a very thin sheet of water. He ducked under the arched walkway to his right and pressed his hand flat on the rather less ostentatious door than the one above, near where the knocker would be, and tapped his wand twice on the keyhole. A series of soft clicks issued and the door swung open. He stepped through and pushed it closed behind him, pulling off his jacket as he did.
The door opened into a spacious, L-shaped open plan kitchen-dinner. The kitchen was sleek and pristine, with both Wizarding and Muggle appliances. The black and white monotone of the kitchen was broken up by blooms of colour; the overflowing fruit bowl on the dinning table, the weekly package of sweets and cakes from Narcissa on the island benchtop, the miss-matching mugs, the canvases and both Muggle and Wizarding photos of their friends and families, and the child-like drawings from Harry's many necies and nephews, and godson Teddy. The black chrome fridge was covered in notes and trinkets; touristy magnets from Paris, Italy and Greece where they had gone on holiday and Harry had absolutely insisted on souvenirs - "Memories, Draco! Come on, it's tradition!" - and a notepad charmed to write out the weekly groceries when things were used up or running low.
Many would say that the choice of decor was odd, but Harry was rather fond of it. The new and the old, wizarding and muggle, soft and sharp, all working together and somehow coexisting harmoniously.
Harry hung his jacket on the back of a chair and toed off his boots as strings of daunting music drifted through the arched doorway leading to the darkened living room. Harry followed it curiously and paused in amused disbelief in the threshold at the sight before him.
Draco Malfoy, Harry's sophisticated, pure-blood boyfriend, curled up on their large, squishy sofa, huddled under the dark red comforter, watching a muggle horror movie through the gaps in his fingers. Harry's lips quirked up into a smirk and he started forward, forgetting completely about the loose floorboard which creaked loudly in the ominous silence.
With a breathless shriek, Draco twisted round violently, entangling himself further in the blanket, which caused him to lose his balance, his shriek turning to a high-pitched yelp. He would have tumbled to the ground had Harry not lunged forward and grabbed a hold of one of his flailing arms.
Draco closed his eyes briefly, relief and adrenalin rushing through him causing his heart to stutter and race. Harry, leaning over the back of the sofa, arm extended to grasp Draco's, his other braced on the arm of the sofa, raised his eyebrow at this uncharacteristic show of vulnerability.
"Alright there, Malfoy?" he sniggered, tugging Draco back up onto the sofa.
Draco's eyes snapped open and he scowled up at his raven-haired boyfriend, a pale blush adorning his pointed features.
"Shut it, Potter!" he growled, pushing the red comforter off and brushing his hair swiftly back into place. Harry dropped onto the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front and grinned at the flushed blond.
"So sensitive! Is that any way to greet your boyfriend after a hard day's work?" he teased, "I mean, it's not like you jumped a mile and fell off the sofa or anything."
Draco's glare intensified and he sniffed haughtily, turning away. He glanced at the clock and then frowned.
"Why are you so late anyway? You should have been home from the hospital almost two hours ago."
Harry sighed, letting his head fall back against the sofa and rubbed his face wearily.
"I know, I'm sorry. Things are mental right now with the upcoming trip and I asked Ron out for drinks after work, to catch up an all, and I just let time get away from me." He explained apologetically.
"Mione sends her love. She's getting really big now, although don't ever say that to her face if you want to keep your limbs. Apparently, George found that out the hard way." He chuckled at the memory of Ron's exaggerated storytelling and Hermione's constant eye-rolling at her husband's antics.
Draco pouted at Harry, "So while I was here all by myself, just little old me, you were out for drinks with Ron!"
"'Little old me'? You're hardly a damsel in distress, Malfoy." Harry snorted.
Draco's lower lip quivered, his eyes filled with tears, his head dropped forward so he was looking up at Harry through his lashes and his hair fell gracefully over his eyes - something Harry's could never do, no matter how hard he tried - in an expression of hurt and helplessness he'd probably perfected from infancy.
Harry rolled his eyes, "You know that doesn't work on me, love."
When Draco didn't react, Harry raised an eyebrow as if to say 'two can play at that game'. He turned to face him and dropped his head down to Draco's so they were eye to eye, hooking his fingers under Draco's chin he tilted his face up.
"How can I ever make it up to you?" he breathed softly, running his thumb lightly over Draco's lower lip. Draco inhaled sharply, and Harry watched as the tears disappeared as if they'd never been there, grey eyes darkened to molten silver and his lips parted.
Harry leaned forward, brushing his lips slowly over Draco's, who made a quiet noise of appreciation in the back of his throat. Harry chuckled softly, pulling back ever so slightly, his grin growing when Draco whimpered and followed. As Harry pulled back again, teasing him, Draco grabbed the front of his jumper tightly and pulled him closer. Harry kissed him softly, slowly, drawing it out. Draco pushed forward, seeking more, but still Harry pulled back, leaving him wanting.
"Harry!" Draco whined.
"Hmm... yes?" Harry hummed, his parted lips drifting across Draco's jaw, leaving feather-light kisses down the column of his throat.
"You're supposed to be making it up to me!" Draco groaned, his grip on Harry's jumper tightening as he tilted his head to the side, giving Harry easier access.
"Am I not doing that?" He murmured, his breath ghosting over Draco's skin, goose bumps erupting it its wake.
"N... no." Draco stuttered, this statement rendered moot by the low moan that followed when Harry drew his earlobe into his mouth, suckling gently.
"Well, I suppose I'll have to fix that." His lips trailed lazily back over Draco's jaw and Draco groaned, the sound vibrating heavily through the air.
Growing impatient with Harry's teasing, Draco seized him, his fingers burying themselves in Harry's ebony locks, dragging his lips back onto his. Harry growled and finally, finally, kissed him. They fell back carelessly onto the sofa, the sound of something clattering to the floor unnoticed. Draco tugged Harry closer, arching up, seeking…. Needing… Screaming- wait… What?
The taut silence suddenly shattered, screams of terror and anguish filled the air. Draco shrieked, springing up in shock, dislodging Harry above him who crashed to the floor in an undignified heap.
Harry lay dazed for a moment, the screams turning into blood-curdling cries of agony, before he had the sense of mind to roll over and grab the remote from where it had fallen from the sofa. The cries cut off in a horrid gurgle and Harry glanced up in time to see somebody's disembodied head flying through the air, blood splattering sickeningly over walls. Harry grimaced and turned off the TV, just as the head landed, bounced twice, and rolled to a stop against a limbless torso.
The monitor faded to black and the silence became absolute. Harry twisted slowly to Draco who was still staring at the blank screen, a look of utter revulsion and horror upon his face. Harry couldn't help the snort that escaped him, nor the guffaw of laughter when Draco's eyes snapped to him.
"Why are you laughing?" he demanded, aghast, which only caused Harry to laugh harder. "These muggles are deranged! Completely unhinged, mental!"
Harry slumped to the floor, quivering uncontrollably with laughter, the edge of hysteria in Draco's voice left Harry breathless, unable to do anything except clutch at the stitch in his side.
Draco, annoyed and embarrassed, shoved Harry sharply who, unstable from laughing so hard, lost his balance and sprawled across the floor once more. Draco huffed and stood up, stepping over Harry's shaking form.
"If you're going to be a dick about it-" He sniffed, striding into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry!" Harry sniggered, scrambling with graceless agility to his feet, trying unsuccessfully to curb his amusement. Draco flashed a look back at him over his shoulder, raising one pale eyebrow.
"Really, I am!" He followed Draco into the kitchen. "But you should have seen your face. I haven't seen anyone react that badly to a horror film since Bill and George showed one to Percy!"
"Great! So now I'm like Weasely! Great job, Potter!" Draco turned away from Harry, but Harry was too fast for him. He grabbed Draco's elbows and pulled him back against his chest.
"Don't be like that, love." He murmured, lips at Draco's ear. "You are nothing like Percy Weasely."
Draco shivered.
"Good." He replied archly.
Harry chuckled, sliding his arms around the blond and resting his chin on Draco's shoulder.
"You're so easily riled. Doesn't half take the fun out of things."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Prat." He muttered.
"Git." Harry replied impishly, pressing a chaste kiss to Draco's reddened cheek.
Harry pulled away, moving around the counter.
"You want dinner?" He asked, glancing back at Draco who had settled into a high stool at the breakfast counter.
"I suppose. May as well make yourself useful." He sniffed haughtily.
"You're so full of shit, Malfoy." Harry chuckled, waving his wand at the cupboards. Cutting boards and knives flew out, another wave and the pantry door opened, tomatoes and onions joining them. Harry ducked down, pulling out a tall pan and setting it on the stove. He poured in a glug of olive oil and dropped in the chopped onions and tomatoes, which started to sizzle immediately. In a second pan, this one smaller but wider, Harry filled it half way with water and threw in a pinch of salt. He glanced back at Draco who was watching him curiously, as he always did when Harry cooked muggle. He seemed unable of understanding why Harry would bother when he had his own house-elf, albeit one who was a little (a lot) insane.
"What are you making?" He asked, his interest getting the better of him.
"Pasta." Harry replied, throwing Draco a grin. He knew Draco didn't have much experience with rustic, simple foods and Harry found he rather enjoyed teaching him. Draco rolled his eyes, pretending to be indifferent to Harry's quest, but Harry knows him well enough not to take it to heart. He turned back to the stove, chuckling to himself.
Deciding to change the subject, Draco got up to pour himself and Harry a glass of wine and leaned back against the counter, voicing the first thought that entered his head.
"So Hermione's getting on, then? Has she started throwing things yet? Didn't take long for Pansy to learn that threat of bodily harm works just as well as sex. Good thing Blaise was always good at ducking."
Harry chuckled at Draco's not-very-subtle change of topic.
"Hermione's always been good at keeping Ron in line. She's not as bad as Fleur was though." Harry shuddered. "Merlim, that woman has got a set of lungs. I never knew there were so many ways to disembowel someone."
"She was chosen as a champion for a reason. Obviously, Beauxbatons has certain electives that Hogwarts doesn't offer."
Harry snorted. "I wouldn't put it past them."
The smaller pan began to rattle and hiss, the water inside bubbling furiously. Harry pulled it off the heat and dropped in the pasta. He poked the stove with his wand, turning down the temperature before sliding the pan back into place.
"She's starting to get all emotional and hormonal now." Harry smirked, "You should have seen her cooing over the Trick or Treaters." He laughed to himself as he remembered the way Hermione reacted to the children. They were all fairly adorable, Harry reasoned. Although one little boy seemed to have been unable to make up his mind about whether he wanted to go as a fairy princess, a werewolf or a cowboy and had instead gone for a miss match of all three which included cowboy boots and gun with a wolf mask and a tutu with fluffy wings. Hermione had given him extra for 'creativity' and 'out-of-the-box thinking'.
"Trick or Treaters?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Draco, I've mentioned this before." He said with an amused look of someone who had had this conversation several times before.
"You have?" Draco asked sceptically, moving forward to poke the wooden spoon Harry had left in the tall pan of simmering sauce.
"Every year", Harry muttered, quickly ripping off the foil on the pot of double cream and adding it to the onions and tomatoes, ignoring the way Draco was eyeing it apprehensively. "We go over this every year!"
"In my defence," Draco started, his expression one of mock solemnity, "I don't actually pay much attention to you, especially when you're rambling on about bizarre muggle things."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Says the man who gets over excited about cassettes and television. You're as bad as Arthur sometimes."
Draco shrugged. He had come to respect the elder Weasley and was rather fond of Harry's surrogate parents.
"So remind me again of these Treaters and Trickers." Draco said, watching Harry grate cheese by hand.
"Trick or Treaters." Harry corrected, adding the grated cheese to the creamy sauce. "Its a muggle Halloween tradition that started in America, I think."
Harry flicked his wand at the bubbling pasta, which lifted itself off the hob and floated to the sink, up turning itself so that the water drained out but the pasta stayed inside the pot.
"Muggle children dress up in costumes for Halloween. Usually something that's seen as scary in muggle culture, like vampires, werewolves and witches and stuff." Harry explained, turning to Draco and picking up his own glass of wine.
Draco's brow wrinkled in confusion. "How are witches scary?"
"Muggle witches, Draco. You know, unkempt hair, long nose, green skin, warts?"
Draco's nose scrunched up - rather adorably in Harry's opinion. "Muggles are very strange."
Harry chuckled, silently agreeing.
"So what's the point of the children dressing up?"
"Well, it's just for a bit of fun. They get dressed up and with their families and friends go around their neighborhood and knock on doors. People give them sweets and stuff." Harry turned back to the hob, pouring the creamy, cheesy sauce onto the pasta and mixing it in with quick, precise movements.
"So you're telling me that muggle children dress up in bizarre, inaccurate costumes and go round demanding sweets from strangers?" Draco asked, sounding aghast and skeptical.
Harry shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at Draco as he dished out the pasta into two bowls. "Well it sounds weird when you put it like that."
"I think it's rather barbaric, not to mention dangerous!" Draco stated, grabbing some cutlery and their wine and following Harry to the dining table. "Did you ever participate as a child?"
Harry snorted without amusement, settling down at the table and summoning the rest of the wine.
"Do you really think the Dursleys would have allowed that?"
Draco's lips thinned and his eyes took on that pinched look that always came whenever anyone mentioned Harry's relatives.
"Of course, how forgetful of me."
Harry couldn't help but smile at Draco's ire. He had not been best pleased when he had learned the details of Harry's childhood.
"Its ok, Draco." He chuckled, placing his hand over his boyfriend's own and stroking lightly with his thumb.
Draco took a breath and relaxed slowly under Harry's touch. He flipped his hand over, squeezing Harry's fingers. He nodded and, with a gesture that was completely Draco, changed the subject.
"How was work?"
Harry launched into a tale of two of the children in his charge who had decided that paint would look much better all over the walls and furniture rather than on paper, and the disaster it was to clean up afterwards.
Their hands never separated.
Harry awoke suddenly in the darkness, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding rapidly. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fists hard into his eyes, trying to push away the images that taunted him. He had thought he was done with this, he hadn't had a nightmare in ages and this perticular one had been years. He'd almost forgotten it.
Almost.
Next to him, Draco muttered sleepily, roused by Harry's distress.
"Harry?" He mumbled, rolling over to face him. "Are you ok?"
"I'm fine, Draco. Go back to sleep."
But instead Draco propped himself up on his elbow and stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, looking rather adorably rumpled and sleepy.
"You had a nightmare, didn't you?"
Harry doesn't even think to lie, knowing that Draco would see right through him.
"Yeah."
"Voldemort?" Draco asked, and Harry still feels a pinch of pride at Draco using the name.
Harry nodded, "And my parents." He closed his eyes again seeing it as clearly as if he was there. The flash of green light, the high cold laugh and her voice, her pleas.
His chest tightened and he could feel the tears threatening to overflow.
"Harry." Draco whispered gently, running his fingers soothingly through Harry's hair.
Harry sighed and leaned into the touch, Draco's warmth like a balm against the cold tendrils of the dream still tight around his heart. He rolled into Draco, burying his face in Draco's bare chest and wrapping himself tightly around him. Draco pulled him closer, his fingers never still in Harry's hair and his voice a low, warm hum in Harry's ear. Harry breathed in Draco's scent, using it to anchor himself, feeling the tremors still, his breathing slow and his heart steady. The dream's grip loosened and dissipated in Draco's presence.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Draco murmured after a long period of silence.
Harry shook his head, his face still pressed against Draco's chest, the steady beat of his heart almost lulling him back to sleep.
He doesn't want to think of the dream.
He pulled back, catching Draco's eyes. He lifted his own hand up to Draco's hair, pushing it back from his face and threading his fingers through the silky strands.
"Draco." He whispered.
Draco's eyes widened slightly as he realised Harry's mood. His hand shifted in Harry's hair, sliding down to cup his jaw, his thumb sliding over Harry's parted lips.
Harry twisted his head to kiss Draco's palm, his eyes never leaving Draco's.
Draco inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. He tilted Harry's face up and leaned down to kiss him. Harry met him half way, his fingers tightening in Draco's hair pulling him closer, harder. They kissed hot and needy, scorching them both breathless. They gripped each other tightly, tongues battling for dominance and lips bruising.
They pulled away panting, foreheads touching, Draco's fingers curled around the short, soft hairs at the base of Harry's skull and Harry's hand pressed tightly against the small of Draco's back.
"I love you." Harry murmured, all traces of the dream gone. He feels enveloped by Draco, his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin, the taste of his lips.
Draco closed his eyes, letting Harry's words flow over him and soak into his pores. This isn't the first time he's said it, but every time leaves Draco feeling weak and at the same time unbeatable.
He opened his eyes, meeting Harry's intense gaze. Green... so green.
"I love you too."
Harry's lips quirked up into a smile and Draco could feel himself blush. He glanced away, his chest tight, and then back to Harry.
"I do, you know." He mumbled. He feels raw, stripped bare to Harry's eyes.
"I know." Harry whispered, leaning forward to kiss Draco, this one slow and soft, but no less intense.
Harry knew how difficult it was for Draco to show his feelings, to express emotions that he usually kept close to his heart, especially when already in an intimate or vulnerable situation. It's a manner of protection, a lifetime of training.
But Harry doesn't need words to know how Draco feels about him. He doesn't need grand gestures or extravagant presents. He knows it in the small things, the little gestures and touches.
He knows Draco loves him, and that despite everything, all the obstacle and trials they've gone through, they've finally managed to find each other.
And they are never letting go.