N/B this is the first fic I've posted to contain a love scene, please do tell me if it's too much, I'll happily remove it. :) Happy Reading.
Hitched.
Life was shit.
The day was grey and blue, just like his mood which, having begun upon waking as morose, had now slowly dipped into despair crossed with fury. It had been a bad day thus far, the day before had been hell too for that matter, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that, and backwards into ever increasing misery to some infinitely grievous moment when the universe had decided to punish Harry Potter for the dreadful crime of not being unhappy.
He felt like shit. The very moment he'd opened his eyes to the dingy orange curtains and tobacco stained walls of his bed and breakfast rooms, he'd felt it, wincing at the very moment his brain shifted from the bliss of sleep (and worse yet dreams) into unforgiving and now pointless reality. In short, he felt like shit because that was what his life boiled down to now. No terrifying, murderous dark lords to vanquish, no followers of the afore mentioned to round up. His friends had got on with their lives, his best friends had done themselves a favour and given in to the simmering attraction between them since they were 14, surprising everyone by eloping before unsurprisingly starting to churn out overachieving redheaded babies.
He'd attempted to follow their example himself, letting various young witches try their hand at snaring the famous Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding and Muggle World but none had ever been enough to tempt him, enough to break him from the stymied, cloying existence he'd suddenly found himself trapped by. His family were dead, both blood relations and honorary (with the happy exclusion of the Weasley's) family, The Dursley's wiped out in a desperate attempt to flush out Harry, Sirius' senseless demise still stinging after all the time between, Albus, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, even Snape, all lost in the final days of battle, those the worst of all, Voldemort sensing his time was close, determined to take as many with him as possible.
He'd died, of course, not as slowly as Harry might've liked but die he did and once again, Harry was a hero. But then, true hero's fight to protect that which they love and Harry, although loved, hadn't been able to find it in himself to reciprocate the relentless tide of adoration and gratitude washing over him from all sides. Did he want to be an Auror? The position was his. Would he like to teach? Positions opened up worldwide. Did he want a wife? Parents were willingly keeping their daughters pure for him.
All Harry wanted, had ever wanted, was to just be Harry, have good friends, a family who loved him and a job not involving any more death... ever.
He'd fooled himself, somehow against everything he'd come to expect from this unwelcome lifestyle he'd been lumbered with, that he had been within a hairs breadth of suddenly having everything he'd ever yearned for.
He'd been wrong, obviously. Life was shit and a hero who couldn't handle holding his head up in public and bearing the weight of his success was of no use to anyone.
And so he'd left. He wrote a note to Ron and Hermione telling them he needed time to himself, packed a suitcase and made for Muggle London. He rented a car there, he'd considered flying to somewhere, anywhere new but could think of no particular place he'd like to be, rather he just wanted to be anywhere than where he'd been before. He'd been driving for a little over a week now. He liked driving, deciding where to go on a whim, a moments choice upon catching the road signs when they veered up beside him. A few days more and he would have virtually driven the length and breadth of England, the only pauses thus far during his journey being to sleep, occasionally eat and consume more coffee than was healthy. He frowned, forehead crinkling as he squinted past the raindrops crowing his windscreen between dull swipes of the sluggish wipers, maybe he'd apparate to the States, drive his way across and hopefully while away yet more hours behind the wheel, anything... anything to keep moving, to not stop, not think, breathe in or... feel.
It was getting dark already, barely 5pm and the light was already dimming from the grey into black but then the weather didn't help, early October still trying desperately to hold onto Septembers indecisive light and warmth even as the rain washed it all away and a gentle bite carried on the wind.
Harry'd snapped the radio off sometime before. The station he'd been tuned in to had suddenly decided to have a dedications hour and if he had to listen to even one more person drivelling on about how much they loved someone or other and how this particular song was 'theirs' then he'd seriously have to think about embracing the unspeakables and as his wand was safely in his suitcase, he decided just switching radio off was a far easier solution. The only noises now were the tires hissing on the rain sodden road and the reluctant, monotonous swiping of the windscreen wipers.
Harry blinked, eyes gritty and heavy already, hours earlier than usual, irritation now clouding the troubled green depths. He'd set off at 9am, he should have had at least another 4 hours left in him before he'd even think about resting let alone actually consider doing it. His head was heavy though, limbs sore from disuse and cramps and maybe stopping early just once wouldn't be so bad, maybe the rain had added just enough strain to his eyes to tire him, allow him easy passage into sleep, the next town was only a few miles off, he could find a nice B&B, settle in and be up and away again maybe even earlier tomorrow and...
He blinked, hands tightening on the wheel as though he feared it slipping from his grasp. He must be more tired than he realised, he decided, there could no be no other reason for the incongruous appearance of what appeared to be none other than an exceptionally wet and bedraggled looking Draco Malfoy standing at the side of the road as Harry shot past.
Harry shook his head in bemusement, trying to keep his eyes from straying to his mirror to see if the vague blond blob in the distance was none other than his former schooldays nemesis standing on the verge of a muggle motorway.
Couldn't have been.
Harry rolled his shoulders, the knot between his shoulder blades now becoming a full blown aching cramp and, glancing about him with a heavy sigh of resignation, he let the car drift gently onto the grass verge to, slowing out of the path of other cars as he twisted in his seat, squinting back through the fogged, wet glass to see if the drenched white blond in the distance could be... no, it couldn't be... why would it be?
Harry took a deep steady breath as he attempted to reach between his shoulders, pummelling at the knot with his fingers and knuckles until the area was tender but slightly less painful. His nostrils flared, eyes still narrowed past the fog and water, staring hard as though the figure might glance up from its dejected stance at the roadside. There was... something, Harry mused, something of the old way Malfoy'd used to hunch his shoulders, crossing his arms as if to say 'Oh Yeah? And Who the Fuck are you?' but this person had their head bowed, nearly to their chest it seemed and it seemed about as likely for Minerva McGonagall to be off disco dancing somewhere for Draco Malfoy to be slumped and soaking in the middle of precisely nowhere in the heart of Muggle England.
And yet...
"Fucks sake."
Harry wasn't sure who he was more annoyed with as he slammed the car into gear, ignoring the hysterical beeping of the admittedly busy traffic as he cut straight across the lanes to speed back in the direction he'd just come, already squinting back at the other side of the road as he slowly neared the lonely figure, himself or the fucking annoying bastard whose face he still couldn't see due to their chin resting nearly fully on their chest it seemed.
Harry grunted in grudging amusement. Ah well, he thought somewhat dourly, if I'm going to act like a total paranoid freak I might as well make a complete job of it. Again he allowed the car to pull in to the sodden muddy verge away from the path of oncoming traffic, parking nearly opposite the fair if wet haired stranger on the other side. For a moment Harry stayed as he was, belted in and glaring at the figure, willing them to lift their head before he was forced to make a complete tit of himself by getting out into the downpour just to confirm the fact that he was suddenly losing his mind and in that moment, Harry's will had its way.
The stranger lifted his head, looking suddenly and staggeringly straight into Harry's car and eyes.
Draco. Draco bloody Malfoy, Harry's mind rather unhelpfully supplied as Harry forced himself to unbuckle and slowly get out of the car, holding the blonds unwavering empty gaze throughout.
He rested one hand on the top of the door, barely registering the gentle dinging of the open door alarm, other hand hanging limply at his side as he stood and simply stared at the man across the road.
Draco Malfoy had resolved to not follow Voldemort after the Dark Lord had decided to make an example of one of his followers, namely cutting out their tongue and eyes for not telling him of their suspicions of Snape's treachery. Lucius Malfoy, it seemed, whilst being an utter bastard and a murdering Deatheater to boot, had always been a friend to the potions master and died in quite some pain knowing that even had he truly thought Severus had betrayed their 'Master', he still would not have told. Some said Malfoy had then switched sides to gain the protection of the ministry, some said he had decided to avenge his father and some said he would have then done whatever was necessary to ensure his mothers safety but whichever the case had been, he had since worked to make himself of great, if annoyingly smug and supercilious, use in the ministry. Some said he'd turned over a new leaf after the war, many said he'd not changed at all but as Harry stood staring at the drenched man, admittedly clad in the most elegant and beautiful robes any wizard might hope to possess, currently shivering and slumped in the downpour, Harry could see only the barest traces of the child he'd once sworn to hate.
"Get In." He mouthed across the road, needing to try it twice afterwards, each time with greater emphasis in order to make himself understood before slowly, occasionally darting around the separate cars, Malfoy was making his way across the carriageway towards him to then stand there, rain slipping in rivulets over his face as he met Harry's gaze with the sort of detachment you see after a horrific accident occurs. He nodded, slowly and Harry followed his example, angling his chin down slowly before finally breaking eye contact to slide back into his now soggy car seat.
He waited until Malfoy was sat, carefully arranging his sodden dress robes around his equally sodden knees (to lessen the creases Harry supposed), marvelling inwardly when Malfoy buckled himself in before pulling back out into the traffic.
They drove in silence, the light dimming yet more even as the rain slowed and gentled on the windscreen, the clouds making way for the now only slightly waterlogged dusk, Harry's eyes fixed on the road ahead, the road he'd already travelled as Malfoy sat, statue like, next to him.
Harry let his eyes drift over, just the once straying from the road, green gaze scrutinising each quick inch it happened upon, the immobile profile, the silver blond and still trickling hair, the exquisite robes and the softly shaking long white hands, bare and trembling, resting in Malfoy's lap.
Sighing, head still reeling, Harry pulled into the first quiet lay-by he could find, angling the car towards the field it sat beside so that they could each stare out into the grey sky and rolling rain darkened hills.
This isn't happening, a stern, oddly Snape sounding voice said in Harry's head, knocked into oblivion by the sudden shock of Malfoy's belt unclipping and rocketing back into its socket at his shoulder. Slowly, eyes still locked into the field before them, Harry unclipped his own belt, rain his fingers wearily through his hair, wishing he could take off his glasses to scrub at his eyes but rather thinking they might dispel this odd vision, he decided against it before gradually turning to face the Slytherin.
"Potter." Said the vision, already turned in its seat to face Harry, fingers plucking nervously at the soaked fabric of his sleeves and Harry looked away again, throat dry, raw with disbelief, eyes fixing anywhere but on that pale, wet person sat beside him, staring out into the grey, watching the rain hammering the ground to mud, fists clenching out of reflex...
"Harry..." and he heard it. Heard the sob in the word, under it, inside it, knew the water on Malfoy's face to be not rain, felt the shaking and the numb all encompassing terror in his name and swallowing, turned to face again but found Malfoy already reaching for the handle, scrambling for escape and Harry broke.
Fingers clawed and breath burning in his chest he burst forward, seized handfuls, fistfuls of expensive ruined robes and all but hauled Malfoy backwards into his lap, releasing material to try for purchase on limbs, skin, flesh, hair, roughly pulling and twisting till he had Malfoy mostly face to face, mouth to mouth, his teeth already punishing the Slytherin's gasping lips for crimes as yet unrecognised, tongue pushing deep inside and seizing its place there by right, mapping the silken palate and sharp enamel, pressing hotly, possessively against its counterpart with an astounding sensation of finality.
Cold fingers pushed into the wet mass of Harry's unruly locks, tugging, wrenching until the point where Harry's head fell far back enough for the Slytherin atop to try to fall into him, knees struggling for purchase over and around his lap, back slammed repeatedly against the wheel, grunting here and there from the contact yet whimpering from the feel of Harry's hands skating across his head, brow, face, throat to trailed down and around, claiming, holding and mauling him.
Harry couldn't breathe, he didn't mind it, but the weight of Malfoy or rather the distinct weight of Malfoy's wet robes crushed between the Slytherin's firm writhing body and Harry were a distinct negative in Harry's mind and with no less than a very great deal of regret he pushed the Slytherin back as far as he could manage considering the extremely cramped position they were in, snarling viciously as it became obvious that Malfoy was wearing at least two layers of robes. Harry briefly wondered quite how out of place the Slytherin must have felt stood on the edge of a muggle motorway in classic wizarding robes which, let's face it, to the muggle world, appear more like dresses than anything else. Even as his mind took a nanosecond to consider this point, the combination of his and Malfoy's clever, shaking fingers had been enough to shed the blonds' outer layer which, after Harry had roughly yanked off of him and chucked into the backseat, left Malfoy clad rather fetchingly in off-white muslin under-robes, a deep v neck drawing Harry's eye to a glistening rain drop spiralling down over the ivory skin. With a deep, resentful groan, Harry surged forward, pressing his mouth down hard over the droplet, sucking hard, hoping hard that when (and if) he pulled back there would be blood there, as though he could literally consume Draco Malfoy, drink him dry until his thirst was quenched, his eyes smarting with the onslaught of fresh tears as the pale fingers worked their way tenderly through his hair once more.
His own hands, now free of heavy dampened cloth, gathered the soft fabric at Malfoy's thighs and gently tugged, bunching his fists into the fabric to then pull back, meeting the silver gaze with a defiant stare as he slowly pushed the light material up around the Slytherin's waist, baring the Slytherin's glistening pale loins and thighs to his hungry gaze, one hand knotted into the muslin as the other trailed back down to run insolent fingers over and around his hipbone, mapping the bare territory with greedy, questing strokes.
Slowly, Malfoy's hands slid down from Harry's hair, one resting against his chest and neck, stroking idle fingers across his throat, weight now on Harry's chest as he leant in, cold, soft rose petal lips pressing wantonly on Harry's own dry lips, the other hand stealing down between them to fall and tweak at Harry's already burgeoning fly.
In the time it had taken Harry to suck Malfoy's warm and willing tongue in past his lips, shaking and eager fingers had freed and wrapped themselves about his engorged flesh and the shock of Harry's wrenching groan separated the two for the barest moment, panting and startled.
Eyes never losing contact, Malfoy shot a pink tongue tip out to moisten already glistening lips, nerves apparent in his gaze as he slowly lifted the palm that had been just previously cradling Harry's rigid cock with such reverence, spitting carefully into his palm and, without really knowing quite why, it was the most erotic thing Harry Potter had ever seen.
Firmly, white teeth worrying at just the very edge of one plump, reddening lip, Malfoy stroked the sticky saliva up and down Harry's aching prick, pausing now and then to spit anew, licking the length and breadth of his palm when his harsh breathing dried out both his and Harry's mouths, his warm, gentle fingers clasped, stroking up and down Harry's cock, shuddering as Harry's hand slipped from his hip to stroke, trail around to first cup then squeeze a perfect, pale ass cheek. Harry let his fingers linger on the firm soft flesh a moment before dipping his fingers into the crease between, enjoying the gasp of approval that accompanied his slow skate of fingertips down to push gently at the cleft hiding within before pulling them back slowly, deliberately trailing them up to dip into Malfoy's navel, tweak nipples before slowly stroking up and over the elegantly hollowed collar bone to cradle a delicate skull, drawing Malfoy's... Draco's ...mouth back onto his.
He let the hand squeezing rhythmically in the fabric to drop away, falling down to the side to jerk haphazardly at a lever until, blessedly, he had legroom and the seat shot back a crucial foot or so before earning a startled yelp from the Slytherin as the seat suddenly reclined to leave Harry staring up into the man now comfortably straddling his lap.
Harry bit back a smile as Malfoy quirked a brow, letting his body lean that much further forward to let him drag several sweetly interested points against Harry, aching peaked nipples grazing his jumped clad chest and rosy, slim cock nudging desperate and needy at Harry's through the curtain of soft material. A gentle groan left both of them but before Harry could do more than vaguely thrust up towards the hand or hardness he so craved, rough hands suddenly seized the hem of his jumper, yanking it up and over his head in aggravated motions that brought Harry's arms up over his head, hands balled up inside the sleeves, trapped and gasping as Draco then leant down to trail a hot, eager tongue across his chest before pulling back briefly, eyes dilated and hot with want as he matched gaze for gaze with the Gryffindor.
Slowly he edged forward, moving so his knee's now rested either side of Harry's waist, tilting down and blushing heatedly as the position raised his still bare backside yet higher, one arm bracing him over Harry, eyes locked as Draco pushed two fingers into his mouth, breathing hard and fast through his nose as his cock twitched and scraped across Harry's abdomen, the fingers then leaving Malfoy's mouth with an audible pop, glistening and slick with spit as he reached behind himself, groaning deeply and causing Harry to thrust up with barely restrained excitement as Draco's knee's slipped wider about Harry to allow room for Draco's invading digits to slide home.
Harry keened softly, watched the clench and flex of the muscles through Draco's shoulder and arm, unable to see the slow glide of slim flesh into Malfoy's tight body but well able to imagine the pleasure involved as Draco gasped and flushed darker above him, breath hitching with each clench that Harry could see, moaning as he felt his precum spilling slowly down his own heated length.
A muffled grunt and sudden surge of teeth into his lower lip told Harry that Draco had added a third finger, his own abandoned hands clenching uselessly in his balled up sleeves, aching to touch, to drag the blond down and shove himself inside him, deep, so deep.
Lifting his head, Harry ran his tongue adoringly over the indentation left by the sudden cruelty of Malfoy's sharp teeth, soothing the hurt with suckling, desperate kisses that threatened to suck the soul from the blond if Harry's only way to participate remained his mouth, smiling with not a little smugness at the deep groan it elicited before realising the sound was due to slow removal of Malfoy's fingers, Harry's own loud moan hot on its heels as those same damp fingers encircled his prick suddenly, stroking the slick precum up and down, mixing it with the last of the saliva from Draco's fingers until Harry's cock shone and pulsed with need.
"Now," Harry begged hoarsely, "Ah god please, now." And so, grasping Harry's prick with eager if trembling fingers and leaning down to press and clumsy, feverish kiss upon his lips, Draco slowly impaled himself, pushing back onto Harry's cock until he rested nearly flush against the Gryffindor, moaning softly as the still fairly dry rod slid home.
They rested like that for a moment or so, Harry's desperate urge to seize and slam and fuck and thrust only halted by the tension and paleness of Draco's face, waiting until the breathless man above him was shuddering and quivering again with more pleasure than pain, rocking his hips gently around Harry. Carefully, Harry lifted his feet to brace against the bottom of the dash, lifting his hips to push that one last inch into the blond, shuddering at Draco's delighted squeak before letting his hips fall back and surging back inside before he'd even finished screaming at the withdrawal.
Malfoy braced both arms beside Harry's head then, crying out on each in stroke, whimpering as he slid free again and rocking hard against each invasion with a soft kitten-like mewl that had Harry's cock jerking and twitching inside Draco's hot, tight body, each man groaning, deep guttural sounds that only furthered the others excitement until Harry thrashed and cried out against his bonds, desperate to touch, knead, stroke... feel.
Draco sat up as best he could, panting at the exertion and dipping his head to avoid the roof, the sudden shift in angle brushing straight against his prostate as he sat back, sending him rocketing up and backwards with a stifled yell of pleasure, hands scrabbling to free Harry's arms even as his back arched and his hips slammed up and down, the muslin pushed high enough now to set Draco's cock bobbing free and Harry found himself longing despite himself to cease all other activities to just switch their positions and place his mouth around the throbbing length.
Finally, yanking hard enough on one sleeve to let both pop loose, Draco smiled quickly, smug and then Harry's hands were seizing upon his ass before Draco had time to more than yelp, Harry squeezing, scratching blunt nails over soft white flesh, dragging Draco down to writhe helplessly atop him, cock shoved deep whilst Harry rotated his hips, stabbing inside him in the same pattern he twined his tongue about Draco's.
Harry clenched one hand upon a fair ass cheek, holding him as wide as he could, wishing someone, anyone would come along and witness the incredible sight of Draco Malfoy, undergarments pushed up past his waist, willingly wriggling about with Harry Potter's cock ramming in and out of him, moaning like a bitch in heat, Harry's other hand running up to twist into silken, silver locks, holding him in place while Harry kissed the breath from his body, muttering incomprehensible words between kisses that sounded like insults and endearments rolled into one but Harry had ceased to be sure of what he was saying, feeling the tears on both his and Draco's cheeks but before he could think of which one of them was crying, Draco wailed, hips jerking erratically and sudden jets of heat coursed out across Harry's skin, tightness, clenching heat and god, ah god just the sensation of Draco Malfoy sobbing out his pleasure against his lips was enough to send Harry over the edge and he fell with a muffled shout, thick spurts of semen pumping into Draco's reed slim body as the Slytherin collapsed, chest heaving, atop Harry.
They lay that way for quite some time, the sweat cooling on their bodies, lungs gradually adjusting to the new more sedate intake of breath, Draco Malfoy's head resting heavy and damp on Harry's shoulder.
He wanted to say nothing, just let himself fall asleep that way in the warm embrace of passion but an odd fluttering behind his left lung made it somehow impossible for Harry to relax.
"I thought you were getting married." He said finally, the words bitter and all too hurt in the cooling interior of the car and Harry wished he could snatch them back in case it somehow reminded the Slytherin, as though he might sit up and recall that he should be in a chapel at that very moment.
"Couldn't." The word was muffled against Harry's shoulder but the sudden tension in Draco's spine was more than enough to make tears seep back into Harry's eyes along with the despair and loss he'd been running from so long.
"Why?" he croaked, more afraid to not know than know but only by a fraction, tensing as Draco slowly lifted his head to meet tear damp eyes with his own blurring gaze.
"Because..." he whispered, silver eyes fixed on hurt green, "I don't love Gabrielle and I... I'm tired Harry, I'm tired of never having what I want, what I need."
A large opalescent tear rolled out and over the porcelain skin, and Harry felt tremors running through the cooling body atop him, "I need you Harry," Malfoy whispered, voice reverberating with repressed emotion, "I love you."
Harry closed his eyes. Too easy, it was too easy to just fall back into the euphoria, those months together where he'd just thought he could have his cake and eat it or rather love this man and keep him only to be denied by his heart's desire himself.
'I'm sorry Harry I... I love you, you know I do it's just... you don't understand, I can't hurt her that way... I made a promise...'
"But..." Harry hated himself for the tremor in his voice, "what about your mother? She... that is..." he bit his lip with the effort of not crying out his pain, dreading the surely imminent loss, "she hates me?"
Draco's lip wobbled momentarily and then his eyes went hard, the sudden resemblance to his father enough to send chills down Harry's spine, "I don't care. I won't give you up now, not again, not for her or anyone." He swallowed, eyes reflecting the pain his newfound defiance cost him "Besides," he began again, voice still thrumming with tears, "She doesn't hate you, she hates my father... for dying, leaving her this way... she's... vulnerable now. She just thought that if we were 'Somebody' again... do you see? If we were a powerful family once more then she'd be safe and happy and the only way she could see it happening was through my alliance with another powerful wizarding family and the only way to do that..."
He broke off and Harry lifted a weary hand to smooth over his lovers troubled brow, "I know." He said quietly, the initial resignation that had begun his past few months of misery flooding through him once more, "An arranged marriage, scorned by Lucius but rethought by your mother."
Draco nodded awkwardly and Harry sighed. "I know that Draco, we've been through this before, you need the Delacour family name to restore the Malfoy family honour and in order to be married its thought best to first ditch the pre-existing boyfriend... Namely me."
"Yes." It was muttered against Harry's collarbone and the word cut through him, deeper than it had before, to slice cleanly through his heart.
"So why're you here?" he whispered, a cold hard ball settling low in his gut and spreading out to twirl tendrils of misery throughout his body, "You can't have a boyfriend and be married, you said so yourself."
"Yes."
Harry gave into the long ignored impulse and lifted his hand to scrub at his smarting, burning eyes, "That's not an answer Draco." He ground out.
Loft lips lowered themselves to his, smoothing the frown and freeing the stifled sob kept within, "If I can't have a boyfriend," he murmured gently against Harry's tear damp mouth, "Then I'll gladly take a husband."
Harry lowered his hand with some difficulty to stare fretfully into the steady silver gaze of his suddenly calm lover, "Your mother would never agree to that." He finally whispered, wanting Draco to take it back, deny the hope that was swelling in Harry's chest, stop it before it killed him with what could never be.
Draco pressed his mouth down, hard, crushing the fear he saw in Harry's eyes with his own slowly burgeoning dreams, kissing the sobs and grief from him before pulling back with the same gleam in his eye he'd had the first day he'd told Harry he was interested in him, that he'd best get used to it. The recollection had yet more happiness glimmering beneath the tears as Harry leaned up to press a giddy kiss directly on the smug smirk currently directed at him.
"I propose an alliance between the Malfoy and Potter estates, Harry. I have informed my mother that I can either use this alliance to restore the family honour or," and here he grimaced, a chuckle bubbling in Harry's chest at the sight, "I'll quit the Malfoy name entirely and henceforth be a Potter."
Harry's smile slowly dimmed but a sudden happiness shone forth from his eyes, drawing a pained look from the blond as he recalled the moment so many months before, when filial obligation had forced him to extinguish that light of love and joy in his lovers eyes.
"I love you." He murmured, quite unable to prevent the still clumsy words from escaping him.
"I love you too." Harry breathed, drawing Draco down to kiss him deeply and long, only parting to draw breath a brief moment, Draco licking a path of fire over Harry's pulse.
"Was she very angry?"
Draco sighed, pressing gentle kisses at Harry's jaw line. "Ever the Gryffindor Harry, hmm? Yes, she was very angry but..." leaning up slightly he rubbed a weary hand across his brow, looking seriously into his regained love's eyes, "By the time I'd finished apologising to the Delacour's," Harry winced, " I, I think she'd had time to think... right before I apparated out here, I was tracing you when she just walked up and said 'After everything?' and it was so... accusing, and I just said 'yes' and she looked so... tired, y'know, and she kissed me on the cheek."
Harry drew in a short breath through his nose, "That, that doesn't mean she's accepted us Draco, she could, I mean..." his voice cracked, "I can't let you give your mother up for me."
Draco smiled, the tender expression still at odds with him despite his years of loving Harry, "I'm not Harry, I would though... I nearly did but as she was walking away, she said 'I still want grandchildren.' So I'm guessing she'll adapt."
A family. Harry shivered. It was all he'd ever wanted, good friends, good life, good family and someone to love him. Somehow, despite it all, it seemed he could have them after all.
Crying softly, he leaned up to resume kissing the smiling blond, hands stroking again, bodies reawakening under the expert tutelage of strong emotions, Draco already rocking back and forth against him with that low whining noise that had plagued his dreams. The rain beat down upon the car and the air lifted goose bumps across their skin with frigid fingertips, limbs cramping as they made love again in the ridiculously small space.
Life was great.
Fin.