What Draco Says, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Note: Hi guys! So I had a few ideas for some dialogue I wanted to try for this sort of thing... I don't know. I ended up with this. Hope you enjoy! xx

*Side Note: I listened to 'Be Still' by the Fray while writing this. Really sets the mood if you would like to listen as well :)

Disclaimer: All characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling... I am just borrowing them.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter," Draco says. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Then, with utmost confidence and conviction, he holds his hand out to a tiny, green-eyed boy with scruffy hair and oversized clothes. But of course, this is not just any tiny green-eyed scruffy-haired boy—this is Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, and Draco knows that a companionship with Harry Potter could become a very important asset for his own future... Or at least, that's what his father says anyhow. Draco himself couldn't care less, honestly.

Instead of shaking Draco's hand, Potter just looks at it, as if confused with what to do. He then glances back up at Draco with an unfamiliar look of disdain. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Potter replies coolly, leaving Draco with an unshaken hand and the burning, loathsome feeling of rejection brewing in his chest. No, Draco thinks, his lip automatically curling into a defensive sneer. Nobody snubs Draco Malfoy and gets away with it.

~x~

"Scared, Potter?" Draco snarls, holding his wand up to his face in preparation to duel in front of their classmates for a demonstration.

"You wish," counters Potter, and both boys scowl and turn away from each other, heading towards their respective dueling sides.

Draco has waited almost two years to pull one over on the insufferable Gryffindor legend, and now he is finally getting his chance—this is when he will truly prove that he is the best. This is when he will make Potter regret that he ever rejected the great Draco Malfoy.

Unfortunately, it is not a spectacular duel, but Draco manages to hurl a snake at Potter, and Potter speaks to it. He speaks to it! Well, there goes proving himself, Draco knows it. Everything is all about Potter once more. Isn't it always?

(And Potter wins the duel, of course. Damn him.)

~x~

"Potter!" Draco calls, turning around in his seat at the Slytherin table to taunt his rival. "Is it true you fainted? I mean, you actually fainted?"

He looks back at his friends, who snicker along with him before he turns back to smirk at Potter. He doesn't have much to go on, but at least the latest news of Potter fainting on the train from a dementor attack has given him something for the time being. It's not enough, however. Pity. Potter hasn't really been much fun lately.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Weasley spits, before giving Draco a weak glare. He grabs Potter's shoulder and forcefully turns him away from the scene, not giving the other boy a chance to say anything back to Draco.

Draco is more than a little disappointed that he doesn't. It's boring. He even goes so far as to send Potter a quick drawing of him being electrocuted—a small feat in Draco's mind, but nonetheless effective.

~x~

"That was for my father," Draco sneers quietly, after stomping on Harry's face and breaking his nose.

The Gryffindor boy is lying on the floor, immobile from Draco's hex, his green eyes still wide with the shock of being discovered eavesdropping over Draco's conversation on the train—of course, Potter is older now, and he's not so tiny and scruffy anymore, but Draco finds that he still has the same pure, annoying determination to ruin Draco's life he's always had. With another glare, Draco throws Potter's invisibility cloak over the other boy's body and smiles wickedly.

"Enjoy your trip back to London," Draco murmurs, turning away to leave the train, and hopefully, Potter behind. But of course, that is too much to ask. Draco sees Potter a few minutes later trying to catch a late carriage to school; his nose still bleeding profusely. Draco laughs cruelly at the Golden Boy's pitiful state.

"Nice face, Potter!" he shouts. Potter gives him a short nod back, and continues to speak to his loony friend, who then proceeds to fix his mangled face.

Draco simply glares at the back of his head.

~x~

"I... I can't be sure," Draco mutters. The feel of his father's breath against his neck makes him freeze with cold apprehension. Of course Draco knows who this disfigured lad is in front of him—honestly, Draco has been sneering and spitting at this face for as long as he can remember, it would be a crime not to. A simple disfiguration hex could not deter him from the recognition; Draco knows this boy inside and out. He hates him.

But this is war... Not some petty school rivalry.

Draco is close enough to hear the ragged breathing and the scuffle of trainers below him, close enough to see the purple bruises blooming above that familiar jawline. Potter is looking up at Draco with those eyes that Draco knows are a beautiful shade of brilliant green—however, at the moment they are a sort of dull tint of moss, or mold, and clearly not beautiful at all. But Draco still sees the Potter that he knows and loathes in those eyes. And Potter is begging him, desperately.

Please.

And Draco has to make a choice. He does not reveal Potter to his family and so he betrays them, and for the first time in his life, it hits him—he really isn't sure. About anything. He stands in a blurry haze, even when Potter and his friends begin to fight back, and pulls out his wand only when his mother screams at him to.

But Draco really isn't in it for the fight anymore—Potter easily wrestles Draco's wand away from him and disappears in a clouded spell. Draco doesn't see him again for a long time.

~x~

"Why did you do that for us?" Draco asks breathlessly, after catching up to Potter in the street. Potter has just given a rather detailed, albeit curiously positive testimony for the Malfoy family in the Death Eater trials—Narcissa and Draco had both received parole because of it... of course, Lucius had gotten what he'd deserved in Azkaban. Strangely enough, Draco is sort of relieved by the sentence this time. He only wants to know why Potter had decided to save him and his mother in the first place.

At Draco's question, Potter stops, shrugs, and shoves his hands in his pockets—a nervous habit that Draco has come to know quite well with all the Potter-observing he's done in the years. "It was the right thing to do," the ex-Gryffindor says simply. Then he tosses Draco a small package, and though surprised, Draco catches it.

Draco immediately tears open the paper and gasps when he sees what is inside: his old wand lying there in perfect condition—Potter has even had it shined and cleaned. Blimey, Draco hasn't seen this wand since... well, since the battle at the Manor. His chest fills with an unfamiliar sense of joy that he has not felt since before the war, or maybe never, and he suddenly feels the strong urge to thank the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. Draco looks up.

Potter is already gone.

~x~

"I've done a lot of growing up since school," Draco remarks slowly, after Potter chases him down one day through Diagon Alley and mentions the thank-you note that Draco has finally gotten the guts to send after many months of deliberation. "And I'm... sorry. For everything I've done to you. I just hope that we can put it all in the past."

Potter studies him for a moment, as if wary, but then he grins at Draco—actually grins at him!—before extending his hand out. "I'm Harry Potter," he says softly, his green eyes glistening in a way that Draco has never seen directed at him before. "Nice to finally meet you."

Draco pauses. It is like First Year all over again—but this time, it's reversed, and this time, they've got miles of horrible, dark history between them that Draco could never have dreamed would exist when he was only eleven years old. Putting it all in the past, realistically, does not seem possible in his eyes... But for some reason, Draco wants to try. Besides, he doesn't think that Potter is so bad anymore—Potter did help Draco and his mother, after all. So Draco takes the hand and shakes it firmly. "Draco Malfoy," he greets. "You too."

"Well then, Draco Malfoy," Potter says. "How would you like to grab a bite to eat with me, say, Tuesday night?"

Draco says yes without hesitation.

~x~

"Bloody Ginny Weasley," Draco grumbles, tossing aside the lavish wedding invitation that he'd received in the mail a couple weeks ago. He hadn't responded to it... and the wedding had been this weekend. The invitation has swirly gold penmanship and lace on the edges and a tacky moving picture of Potter and the girl Weasel embracing lovingly on the cover... A marital abomination, honestly, and if Draco's mother had remained alive and well enough to glance upon it on Draco's kitchen table, she'd have killed herself first—Draco himself could be sick all over it, he really could. He sifts through his neglected pile of mail again, finding a few other notes from Potter that his owl had brought in.

There is a particular one from a few days ago that catches Draco's eye and he opens it with tired caution. The note asks Draco why he hadn't attended the wedding, nor any of their Tuesday dinners lately—they'd been meeting up every week for five months since the first time, but once Draco had received the invitation, he'd stopped going. Potter isn't brazen enough to actually confront him about it, anyways. Especially now that he's married.

Draco takes a quill and a stray piece of parchment and starts to write down all of the reasons why he hadn't attended the wedding or the scheduled dinners, but when he is finished and he reads it over again, it just looks like a load of stupid gibberish to him. He throws it away.

So Draco never gets the chance to answer that one, either.

~x~

"It's not like we were even friends to start!" Draco yells at Potter, a couple months later, when the man has cornered him in a restaurant that he surely knows Draco visits as a regular. The hurt expression on Potter's face makes Draco want to take it back, but he never takes anything back so he doesn't this time, either. He thinks of the days back in school when he'd glare at Potter this way and how it really hasn't been that long since then.

"I thought you'd changed," Potter says, his eyes still pleading. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Draco knows that he can't yell at Potter over the wedding invitation, or the questioning notes, or even the friendly dinners, because Potter just wouldn't understand. Draco hardly understands it himself—it is something that just cannot be explained with words. He looks down at the gold wedding band on Potter's finger and scowls, thinking that it lacks in luster, somehow. Potter could honestly do better.

"You haven't reformed me, Potter," Draco mutters. "I did that myself."

"I know," Potter urges. "Come on. We're already here. Let's have dinner." Draco stares at him, and Potter's pleading face starts to morph into one that Draco hasn't seen since before the war.

"What?" Potter asks, his mouth curving up into a challenging grin. "Are you scared, Malfoy?"

And damn it, how could Draco refuse that?

~x~

"Pass the salt, will you?" Draco asks, even though he knows that Potter is probably already holding it out to him—they've been having these dinners for a few years now, and the ex-Gryffindor is all too familiar with Draco's specific eating habits. When Draco does not immediately get his salt, he looks up, irritated.

Potter's eyebrows are raised, and as Draco suspected, he already has the saltshaker in his palm. But he holds it at a distance so that Draco can't take it from him. "You know that too much salt can be bad for you, right?" he points out.

"You're bad for me," Draco mutters, and he reaches over to snag the shaker from Potter's grip. Potter laughs and lets him have it, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Sure I am," Potter quips, still grinning. "Yet you keep me around. Why is that?"

Draco rolls his eyes and scowls at Potter; the other man lunges forward and grabs for the salt shaker again, but Draco is too quick for him—they reach at the same time and the shaker falls and spills all over the table. Potter looks at Draco and Draco looks at Potter... as they gaze at each other, the air is suddenly heavier, somehow. Then Potter starts laughing, unnecessarily loud. And before he knows it, Draco is laughing too. Their combined shrieks and hoots fill the restaurant: surrounding tables are staring; the waitress is glaring, the manager is inches away... Gods. It's all so strangely funny. Of course, Draco does not know when he had started laughing with Potter rather than laughing at him, but he does not question it or attempt to stop.

Naturally, they are kicked out for creating a scene. Draco doesn't care.

~x~

"Pass the remote, will you?" Draco asks, when Potter is once again crashing at his flat after what seems like the millionth fight with his wife. Potter always takes the same couch, and Draco swears that there is now a Potter-shaped indent in it, but he honestly doesn't mind. When Potter is over, it's almost as if Draco has a roommate again, like he had back in school—except Potter is nothing like Draco's pristine Slytherin roommates; Potter leaves a trail of mess and chaos wherever he goes. Draco somewhat resents this, because honestly, this is already an act of kindness as it is and he really shouldn't be cleaning up after the man like some kind of House Elf... But then again, Draco doesn't really want it any other way.

Plus, Draco thinks, with a smirk, it ticks the Girl Weasley—er, Potter—off when Potter stays at Draco's place after a fight. She hates Draco, after all, and she highly disapproves of their strange little friendship. That's what makes it all the better, he decides.

Potter finally hands him the remote, and Draco looks at the other man, who appears to be close to fighting sleep. He shoves him a bit.

"Get your feet off the coffee table," Draco insists, and Potter reluctantly complies after a few grumbles. Draco always gets on Potter's case about the feet-on-the-coffee-table issue, even though he knows that it will happen regardless of what he says. And as he expected, Potter's feet are back on the table a few minutes later.

("Damn it, Potter! How many times do I have to remind you?")

~x~

Draco doesn't say anything to Potter when he goes to see his only son off at the train station; he only nods at him—a short, tight nod, as he knows that Ginny Potter is most likely watching him with disdain and distrust. It's mutual, he thinks, and tries not to scowl in her direction. Of course, he gets a nod and a bit of a smile back from Potter, however, the man does not move to say hello. Draco notices that Potter's youngest child, of whom Draco does not know the name of, is staring at him curiously. When he catches her looking, she gives him a sweet smile and turns back to whisper something in her mother's ear. Draco turns away quickly before Ginny can catch him watching them.

It's odd, really, how he and Potter had gone from dinner and late nights together to... this. Potter has not gotten into many major fights with his wife over the past couple of years—or, at least, he has been finding another place to stay... Draco cannot even recall the last time that Potter was over. In fact, Draco has been married to Astoria Greengrass for almost ten years now, as a result of their son, Scorpius. Actually, now that Draco is thinking of it, it has been about ten years since Potter had regularly appeared at his flat. Coincidence? Draco shakes his head. Of course, Draco lives in the Manor again, as Lucius had passed on in prison and Narcissa had gone years before, leaving Draco as the new Head of the Family. Potter couldn't have stayed at the flat anyway.

Draco does not particularly regret marrying Astoria, because she has given him Scorpius, whom they are now happily sending off to his first year at Hogwarts. He only regrets that the marriage has somehow restricted his sort-of-kind-of friendship with Potter... Yes, Draco had noticed it long ago. Nowadays, Potter's only extended hand of friendship included a dinner every now and then—not every Tuesday, like it had been after the war, but 'every now and then'. And 'every now and then' is certainly not enough to keep Draco in check with Potter.

But then, what could he do? Maybe the gods had gotten it right the first time and he and Potter aren't meant to be friends after all. Draco glances over at the Potter family once more; his gaze lingers over Potter and his wife as they each embrace their two sons going off. Draco looks away. It's funny how it had only taken him nineteen years to figure it all out.

~x~

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco inquires, gazing down at the duo of rain trodden and luggage-laden Potters standing on his doorstep. It is midnight—a bit late for a courtesy call, Draco presumes, if Potter had ever even thought to visit in the first place. Which he never does.

Potter looks up at him through a mop of wet hair, his eyes filled with a sort of tired, resigned sadness. "She kicked me out," he says simply, motioning towards his bags as explanation. "I've... taken Lily, but Ron and Hermione don't have enough room for us now... I know this is a lot to ask, Malfoy, but please... Can we stay? Just one night?"

Draco has a right mind to say no, because Astoria is inside sleeping and she would likely become rather annoyed at the fact that he's decided to make yet another decision without her. But then... Draco takes one look at Potter's small daughter—the only one of Potter's children that has not gone off to school yet and the one that had given him that sweet smile back at the train station—her long, red hair sticks to her forehead and her almond-brown eyes gaze up at him with that pure innocence she surely inherited from Potter himself. Damn it.

Draco sighs and jerks his head a little. He can handle Astoria. "One night," he says gruffly, allowing them to move past him.

Potter shoots him a grateful look and guides his daughter inside. And after Draco shows them to their rooms and Potter's daughter—Lily, he must remember—has run off to bathe before bedtime, Potter goes over to Draco and pulls him into an unexpected hug. Draco stands there stiffly, surprised, as Potter has never touched him like that before.

"Thank you," Potter whispers, as he slowly lets go. He's got a beatific, glowing smile on his lips.

"It's no trouble," Draco replies, still a bit shocked from the embrace.

Potter grins again before disappearing into his room and shutting the door with a gentle click. Draco stands there for a long time, unmoving, until it is much too late and much too dark and he goes back to bed feeling lighter than he's felt in years.

~x~

"Breakfast is ready!" Draco shouts, knowing that he may have to shout it a few more times before Potter and the others actually come down to eat.

It has already been a few months since Potter and his daughter showed up on Draco's doorstep—'one night' had become 'one more' and from there, well, Draco couldn't just let the Potters stay out on the street. Besides, he rather fancies the company—Astoria is always out with her friends. Draco shakes his head and calls out again. Of course, Potter is just as Draco remembers him: messy, forgetful, and hungry, and Draco has already made an extra batch of eggs in anticipation of the man's infamous appetite; he absently scrambles them just the way that Potter likes it. Draco doesn't know why he does this every morning, because honestly, if it were Astoria, Draco would have just thrown together any old thing. But with the Potters, it is different. He has a need to impress them, even after all of this time—maybe it is just that age-old feeling he gets with Potter.

Potter is taking forever, as usual. Lily is the first one down the stairs and she jumps into a seat and looks at Draco expectantly. "What did you make for me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asks, her pretty eyes glittering. Like her father's, he notes.

"Call me Draco," he reminds her, pushing a plate of bacon and eggs in her direction.

She glances down at it and shakes her head with dissatisfaction. "You didn't arrange it into a happy face," she complains. "Daddy always makes it that way for me."

Draco stares at her. She is much different than Scorpius, who is cool and reserved just like Draco was when he was young, and it utterly confuses him. She is lively and rambunctious and charming and sweet, with a wild imagination and a certain ability to make everyone around her feel warm inside... Draco thinks that Lily is just like her father in that way. He quietly arranges the bacon and eggs into a smiling face and then looks at her for approval. Lily takes a look at it, and shakes her head again.

"No, this one's not smiling big enough. I'll have Daddy teach you sometime," she says, her lovely voice sounding like a series of bells as she pats him on the shoulder in indication of a good try.

Draco hears a chuckle and looks up to find Potter standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame and observing the scene with a tender sort of smile on his face—the look unnerves Draco a bit and he glances away, going back to the stovetop. When he looks back a few minutes later, Potter is still standing there.

"You're going to be late for work if you don't hurry up and eat your breakfast," Draco remarks, motioning towards the table for the man to sit.

Potter snorts and heads to the table, ruffling his daughter's hair as he sits down. "Yes, dear," he says, sarcastically.

Draco tries to hide his smile by turning away again.

~x~

"I'm fine," Draco murmurs, letting Potter put a comforting arm around his shoulder. He has just discovered that Astoria has been having an affair behind his back, and a serious one, at that. She wants a divorce.

"Still, I'm sorry," Potter says again, giving Draco's shoulder a squeeze. "I know how it feels. It's awful."

Potter had filed his divorce papers only about half a year ago, so Draco supposes that he really does know. He smiles in response, feeling numb but not sad—oddly enough, he doesn't feel too remorseful about his divorce at all. Astoria is letting him keep parental custody of Scorpius, as she knows just how much he means to Draco and the Malfoy family lineage and she is still his friend, first and foremost. She says that she wishes things had turned out differently for them, and Draco agrees; he doesn't blame her for wanting more. Draco has never given her more and he doesn't regret not doing so, it's just life, giving him more twists and turns he doesn't expect. And he's okay with that.

"You know, Ron and Hermione have gotten a bigger house," Potter remarks after a while, softly. "They've offered me and Lily a place to stay there."

Draco turns and looks at him now, his heart suddenly a lot heavier than before; he doesn't know why it affects him so much more to hear that Potter is leaving him than his own wife, but it does, and it hurts. Maybe he doesn't want to live alone in his large, spacious Manor, or maybe he wants company—more or less, Potter's company. And Potter's company is not something that Draco wants to give up quite yet. He shakes his head.

"Don't leave," he protests, feeling a bit of shame from the way that his voice cracks. He is a grown man, after all, it would not do for him to get emotional over such trivial things.

"Okay," Potter says immediately, and Draco gets the feeling that it is what Potter had wanted to hear—that his decision whether to stay or not had laid solely in Draco's hands. Draco smiles and Potter smiles back at him. It's sort of surreal how much Draco relies on Potter's company now... he can't recall how it had felt to live without the man in his life. Draco regrets the years that he spent fighting Potter, when they could have had this—whatever this is—all along.

~x~

"You need to go to bed, Lily," Draco insists, trying to grab for the speedy girl as she runs around her room, giggling at his attempts to catch her. She is ten now, and she will being going off to Hogwarts soon, but she still acts like the eight (and three-quarters! Lily insists) year-old that Draco remembers her being when the Potters first arrived.

"Lily!" He grabs for her again, but she evades him smoothly and holds a book from behind her back.

"I'll only go to bed if you read to me," she says, her tone stubborn and confident in a way that she surely obtained from listening to him. He scowls.

"I've already read to you tonight," he reminds her.

"Again," she persists, jumping on the bed and holding the book out to him.

He sighs and sits down on the bed, giving in and taking the book from her. Draco used to make fun of Potter for going soft on Lily, saying that he would never give Scorpius the same slack treatment that Potter gave his daughter... and yet, now, Draco can't help himself—he's doing it too. Well, at least Potter isn't around to see it. Draco shakes his head and reads the book for Lily, shamelessly using the many voices that she has instructed him to use, before tucking her into bed. She reaches her arms out to him for a hug and he sighs, giving her one and not feeling the slightest bit strange about it. She is an affectionate little girl, after all, and he has to admit that he'd grown to tolerate her squeezes. As he starts to let go though, Lily leans up and presses a small, sweet kiss to his cheek.

"Goodnight, Draco," she whispers, before letting go and leaning back to snuggle into her pillow. Draco nods, blushing and unable to speak, and he backs out of the room and closes the door behind him. When he turns around to go to his own room, however, Potter is standing there essentially chest-to-chest with him. Draco looks up, surprised.

"Potter," he mumbles, attempting to sidestep him. Potter doesn't move.

"She really likes you, you know," Potter remarks, running his hand through his hair.

Draco smiles. "Yeah, well..."

"You read to her," Potter says now, raising an eyebrow. "Twice."

Draco flushes again. Potter's caught him. "I'm not soft," he insists. "I just—"

Potter cuts him off by leaning forward, invading Draco's personal space and causing him to take a surprised step back. What is Potter doing? Draco glances down at Potter's chest, which is adorned with many of his shiny, gold hero badges, and notices that Potter is still wearing his Auror uniform. He realises that Potter had gone to the pub after work—by now, Potter is probably a bit too tipsy for casual conversation. Draco shakes his head.

"Potter—" he starts, but he is cut off again when the other man leans closer still and doesn't stop; Potter kisses Draco on the mouth softly. It is brief and chaste, but it still takes Draco by complete surprise and he immediately becomes immobile, wondering when in the world he'd gone from hating Potter to tolerating him to befriending him to—this. But more importantly, he also has to wonder why he hadn't thought of doing this before. Because for Merlin's sake, kissing Potter felt... well...

Potter draws away quickly now, shooting Draco a lovely smile and walking away towards his room without another word. Draco watches him go, confused and a bit ecstatic.

~x~

"Don't cry," Draco mutters to Potter, when the other man makes telltale sniffling sounds upon seeing Lily off at the station. The girl has grown up so fast—she is joining her brothers and the Weasley children in a small circle by the entrance to the train compartments. Draco feels a bit like crying himself.

"She's the last one," Potter says, his eyes glistening.

Draco knows that Potter is very attached to his children from experience. Over the few years that the Potters have spent at the Manor, Draco has received his fair share of Potter children encounters—in fact, the first summer Albus Severus and James had come home to the Manor, the mischievous brothers had almost set the kitchen aflame. Of course, they'd apologised, but Draco had seen the look in their eyes—it was the pure Potter troublemaker legacy. The next summer, he'd anticipated it and had been ready for them; he'd caught them in the act of planting some kind of Weasley jokeshop item in Potter's coat pocket... and then let them do it. Potter had spent almost a week scrubbing remains of an orange stink bomb from his clothing, and he'd given Draco The Glare for just about as long, but Draco had earned the respect of the Potter boys since then. Worth it, Draco thinks. Still hilarious.

And of course, Draco spends much time around the youngest Potter, Lily, who always gives him hugs and draws him pictures and insists that he read her bedtime stories every night, and who sometimes refers to him as 'Dad' when she is sleepy. Draco blushes, thinking of that one.

He glances around now, taking notice of Scorpius getting prodded by a curious James Potter, who had taken a strange liking to him of some sorts over the previous summer—James had Albus Severus and Lily following Scorpius around with him almost every day, like pets. It is somewhat endearing, in fact. Scorpius scowls at James now, which causes the other boy to laugh and say something to which Scorpius flushes angrily and stomps away in defiance. As always. Draco shakes his head, slightly amused with the situation. It is all too familiar.

Potter looks at Draco and leans in, kissing him on the cheek, lips cool against the flush that is still there. Draco turns to Potter and Potter gives him a small smile, indicating that he will be all right even without any of the children to keep them company.

~x~

"Ohh, ahh-hhh, Harry!" Draco moans. He clutches the sheets and squeezes his eyes shut as Potter licks a strip of Draco's skin and slowly enters him, leaving Draco shuddering and shouting and glistening with sweat and exertion. Gods. He does not know if he has felt this kind of pleasure before, well, ever. Because to him, sex has always been some sort of job that was required of him to continue on the Malfoy line—at least, it had been like that with Astoria... but it is certainly not like that with Potter. Not in the slightest. With Potter, everything is a surprise, a contradiction: both clear and hazy, wild and gentle, but always absolutely sensational. With Potter, it isn't about lineage anymore, but about what Draco wants and feels. It's about Draco.

"I'm going to make you scream so loud they'll hear you halfway across the world," Potter hisses into his ear, taking a bit of it between his teeth and nibbling persistently as he pushes into Draco harder, faster.

And with that Draco lets out a long, desperate groan; he is glad that none of the children are home anymore, since he makes so much noise that night that he wouldn't be surprised if they had heard him halfway across the world.

~x~

"I'm not in love with you," Draco says quietly, as he always does after he's done making love to Potter, or vice versa.

He doesn't know why he says this or why he feels the need to say it—he only feels that maybe he is afraid, afraid that Potter will leave him and will finally decide to start his life over with someone new, someone better. Draco doesn't want him to, but he still remembers the gold band that used to be around Potter's finger, and sometimes he thinks that Potter misses it.

Potter only nuzzles Draco's throat and buries his face there, curling his body around Draco's and not saying a word—he never says anything when Draco tells him... But Draco does not need words to know that Potter doesn't believe him.

~x~

"I'm in love with you," Draco whispers into Harry's ear, as he rests his hand on the other man's. He does not deny it. He hasn't denied it for years now.

They are sitting across from each other at the first restaurant that they met at every Tuesday after the war for their anniversary dinner; it is almost uncanny how unchanged it all feels—Harry has already placed the salt on the other side of the table for him, and Draco makes a point to complain every time the man rests his feet on the bottom of his seat. And though it has been more than twenty years since they had first met at this restaurant, Draco feels as if no time has passed at all: he could be sitting here across from a young, beautiful, war-torn Harry, and he could be the same lonely and lost Draco. It doesn't make a difference to him at all. Harry smiles and rubs Draco's hand with his thumb.

"I love you too," he says earnestly, making Draco feel like the luckiest man on earth. He is, really. Then, all of the sudden, Harry lets go of Draco's hand, stands up, and reaches into his pocket. Draco stares at him as he gets down on one knee.

"And I know that I'll love you forever," Harry continues, pulling a small box out and flicking the cover open. There are two silver bands, shining new and perfect, lying there—the complete opposite of the gold band from Harry's previous marriage. "Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco jumps out of his seat, aware that essentially everybody in the restaurant is waiting for his answer. He takes Harry by the collar and pulls him up into a standing position, as if he is going to punch him in the face, or yell at him, or something worse. Harry gazes at him, confused, because that is not what Draco is supposed to do, and Draco gives him an answering smirk. He pulls Harry in so close that the other man's breathing becomes slightly ragged.

"What?" Draco whispers. "Are you scared, Potter?"

Now Harry's eyes flash as he remembers. An impish smile blooms on his face.

"You wish," he replies, closing the gap and crashing their mouths together.

Draco vaguely hears the crowd cheering and knows that news of this will reach the Prophet by the next morning, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters but the feel of Harry close to him. Nothing matters but the fact that Harry is Draco's, now and forever. And who would have thought? The boy who loved too much and the boy who hardly loved at all... Together at last.

~x~

"Don't tell me what to do, Weasley," Draco mutters, causing the redheaded man to glower at him slightly.

After all of these years of being friends/lovers with Harry, Draco still doesn't get along so well with Ron Weasley. He always dreads coming to these monthly dinners that Harry plans with his two best friends, but his husband has insisted upon his presence at them—Harry argues that if he has to sit through Slytherin bar outings with Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini, then Draco has to come to Harry's little dinners with the Weasleys. Utterly preposterous, Draco thinks. Honestly.

Harry gives Draco a look for his comment and pats Weasley on the shoulder sympathetically. "He didn't mean it, Ron," Harry says, amending Draco's mistake quickly. "Of course he'll be attending your anniversary party with me."

Now Hermione Weasley comes in and gives her husband a small kiss on the cheek before hugging Harry hello. "Harry!" she cries. "It's good to see you again! And Draco too, of course. It's been a while."

"Hermione." Draco nods at her, preferring her company to her husband's—at least she can hold an intelligent conversation.

Harry grabs Draco's waist as they all head into the dining room of the Weasley's home, and he whispers into his ear as a warning. "Play nice, Draco," he purrs. "Or I'll be forced to punish you when we get home."

Draco smirks and says nothing, but on the inside, he is plotting. For the rest of the meal, Draco goes out of his way to be absolutely horrid to Harry's friends, knowing that when they got home, Harry would have to punish him.

And punish him, Harry did.

~x~

"Well if you don't like it, don't come back!" Draco yells after Harry when the other man storms out of the Manor for what seems like the millionth time in the past few months.

They'd been getting into fights about the smallest things lately, like who would cook dinner that night or why Harry's shift at work had run for so long... It is absolutely ridiculous, but Draco cannot stop himself from blowing up and yelling at Harry yet again. The recent tension is unbearable. Honestly, Draco can't remember what this particular fight is even about—all he knows is that he is fighting it and he isn't going to back down because he never backs down with Harry.

It is always back and forth and back and forth between the two of them, and Draco sometimes has wonder if it had been such a good idea to get married in the first place. He knows that they will always be like this, bickering and getting on each other's nerves and essentially making the other want to tear his hair out. It has never been a secret; things were always rocky and uncertain and mental with Harry—of course, Draco used to love that. Now, it is tearing them apart. He sits down on the couch that Harry loves so much and sighs, grabbing the remote and flipping on the muggle TV that his husband had insisted on installing the minute they had gotten married. They had gotten into a fight about that, too.

It is only an hour later when Draco hears the front door being unlocked again and looks over to see Harry standing there, his coat dripping wet from the rain outside. His expression is forlorn. "Draco," Harry starts. Draco just stares at him.

Harry comes over and sits down on the couch next to him. He doesn't say anything. After a while, he falls over and rests his head on Draco's lap. "I don't know why I did that," he says. "I'm sorry." He turns to look up at Draco with those sad, glistening eyes. For a moment, Draco flashes back to the night that Harry had shown up on his doorstep. It has been so long since then.

"What happened to us?" Draco asks, and Harry's face falls and he closes his eyes.

"Time?" Harry suggests quietly. "Reality?"

Draco feels his heart ache, and he wonders when in the world they had become like this. Old friends though they are, they are also old rivals, first and foremost—had this break been inevitable from the start? It seems like that thought never exited his brain. Yes, Draco knows that Harry loves him and has loved him for the several years that they'd been together. But sometimes, he has to wonder if that is enough.

"No," Draco says. Harry opens his eyes and gives Draco a perplexed look. "No," Draco repeats. "Nothing happened. You and me—we're going to get through this. We're okay."

Their love has to be enough. It has to be. Enough, enough to perhaps save this relationship before it collapses... Draco is sure that it is. Because Harry is everything, Harry is his whole life. If Draco loses him, he would surely lose a piece of himself as well. They are meant to be together.

Harry frowns for a moment. "You mean it?"

Draco threads his fingers through Harry's hair. "I let you go once," he admits softly. "I... let you get married to someone else. I'm not going to do it again."

Harry stares at him for a bit longer before smiling and cuddling close to Draco. "I don't even remember what it is we were fighting about," he admits, and that elicits a few small laughs from the both of them as they realise the ridiculousness of their predicament.

"Gods, me neither," Draco says, and Harry smiles at him again. It is then that Draco knows that they are going to be okay, sooner or later, and that he never wants to even think about regretting marrying Harry ever again.

~x~

"Get your feet off the coffee table," Draco reprimands Harry for the third time since they've sat down, and Harry takes his feet off the table with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry."

Draco rolls his eyes and goes back to his reading book; the only sound he hears for the next few minutes are the ticks of the grandfather clock chiming pleasantly in the background. However, Draco knows that this silence will be short-lived—Harry had joined him only about a half hour ago to take his favourite seat by the fireplace (and consequentially, the coffee table with so many feet marks that Draco supposes that it should just be called an ottoman now). Now, Draco doesn't normally mind when Harry drops in on his personal time, but the trouble with Harry is that he is not a quiet man and Draco really wants to get this book finished today. They sit in silence for a couple of minutes longer before Draco gets the distinct impression that something has changed and looks up from his book. He gives an irritated sigh.

"Damn it, Harry!" he scolds. "How many times do I have to remind you?"

Harry quickly takes his feet off the table again and Draco scowls at him.

"I'm bored," Harry declares, finally sitting up, putting his novel down on the ottoman/table.

"Shouldn't have retired then," Draco remarks without sympathy, as he had never needed to have a job and doesn't really see the appeal of one. His only job has been keeping Harry in check all these years, and he is damned good at it.

"They said that I was getting too old for field work," Harry scoffs, with a bit of bitterness in his voice. "Too old, my arse. I bet if they had another Voldemort running around, they'd beg me to come back."

Draco shakes his head, putting his book down and giving Harry a look. "I'm sure that they would. But let us just be thankful that there isn't another Voldemort running around," he says. "Because then I wouldn't get to spend as much time with you."

Harry smiles and leans back in his chair, satisfied with what Draco has said. Draco snorts softly and picks his book back up. But after a few minutes, he doesn't need to look away to know that his husband has done it yet again.

"Potter!"

"Sorry."

~x~

"We're growing old," Draco remarks as he lies in bed next to Harry, who is smiling and playing with the ends of Draco's slightly greying blond hair. They still make love every now and then, but it's not nearly as spontaneous and passionate as it used to be—Draco would say that it has become gentler, more loving, and tender, a type of deep, rooted trust instead of a demanding sexual libido. As their relationship has grown to be. Harry chuckles and softly presses a kiss to Draco's forehead.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don't know." Draco pauses. "I mean... Doesn't it bother you?"

Harry smiles again. "No," he declares. "Not as long as we're growing old together."

"Well, when you say it like that..."

Harry leans forward and kisses Draco on the mouth now, and Draco just closes his eyes. He wishes that he could keep this moment in his mind forever and ever, to replay whenever he felt sad and hopeless... To know that he is, indeed, loved.

~x~

"I am so proud of you," Draco whispers to Lily, as he is walking her down the aisle to her soon-to-be husband. Harry is on her other side, beaming so brightly that he might compete with the sun. Lily grins at Draco in response and he brushes a stray hair out of her eyes—Gods, Draco still has those little crayon drawings that she had drawn for him back when she was nine years old, and all of those books that she insisted that he read her before bed. Where does the time go? And even though Lily is not Draco's own daughter, he thinks of her as one, and he is grateful that she has allowed him to walk her down the aisle with Harry.

Before Harry and Draco let her go to give her away, she turns to both of them and smiles, looking just as radiant and sweet as she did on the first day that Draco laid eyes on her in the train station, nineteen years after the war. "Thank you," she whispers to Draco, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. Then she turns to Harry and does the same. "I love you both so much," she declares.

Draco looks at Harry, whose eyes are glistening again with tears, because she is again the last one to be sent off on yet another journey—both James and Albus Severus are sitting in the front row with their wives, smiling as their sister gets married to the man that she loves... and Scorpius is right next to James; Draco sees him squeeze his best friend's hand. The two men are almost inseparable now.

Our children are all grown up, Draco thinks, a bit sad and happy at the same time. They don't need us anymore.

Draco keeps scanning the rows. Ron and Hermione Weasley are in the next, and they are grinning widely at him—Ron even goes so far to give Draco an encouraging thumbs up. Draco smiles back at them, thinking that maybe they aren't so bad after all. Then he notices Ginny standing in the crowd next to her new husband, and he gives her a slight nod—the woman had given Draco the honours of giving Lily away, after all. Ginny, surprisingly, shoots him a genuine smile and mouths, 'congratulations'. Draco feels a smile growing on his face as well as he mouths back, 'you too'.

Harry grabs his hand and they back up to let the ceremony commence, and it is then that Draco finally feels like he is part of something—part of this family that had welcomed him so warmly when he had none other to go to so long ago. Of course, Draco's father had died in prison and his mother had gone much earlier, neither having made any efforts to care for Draco other than leaving him a boatload of money as inheritance. But Draco doesn't blame them for how they did it. It is simply the Malfoy way.

But as Draco looks around at all the smiling people who have come to support Lily at her wedding, he feels a different kind of love and support than he had been used to as a child. He knows that this is the Malfoy-Potter way, the way that he has slowly grown to be a part of, with Harry. And that means everything to him.

~x~

"I love you so much, you know that?" Draco asks Harry, who surprises him with breakfast in bed one day. Harry chuckles and crawls back in with him, pushing the tray of food that he has made for Draco towards him.

"I know," Harry replies. "Now eat your breakfast, you grey-haired prat."

Draco gives him a sharp look and self-consciously rubs his receding hairline. "My hair isn't grey," he insists, frowning.

"It is. You're an old man, Draco."

Draco shoves Harry for that, as he might've done when they were years and years younger and his husband laughs, his green eyes glistening in the way that they never failed to all of these years. Both men are well past sixty now, but sometimes Draco has to remind himself that he is not the snarky young man that he used to be. He looks over at Harry, who is giving him a smirk that he has stolen from Draco over the years, and thinks that despite the time that has passed, he can still see that tiny, messy raven-haired, oversized clothes-wearing, First-year Gryffindor boy smiling brightly behind the faded wrinkles and greying hair that defines Harry now. But it doesn't matter how much Harry has changed—he will always be beautiful to Draco. Draco smiles softly while the smirk fades from Harry's face and is replaced with an answering smile.

"What?" Harry asks, good-naturedly, his smile still brilliant and still the reason why Draco gets up in the morning.

Draco shakes his head. "Did I mention that I love you?"

"Maybe once or twice," Harry muses. "Tell me again."

Draco leans forward and kisses him on the mouth.

"I love you, git."

~x~

Draco says nothing now—there are no words. He sits on the ground, by himself, even though it is raining and he is bound to catch a cold if he sits here any longer... yet, he doesn't move. It has been more than seventy years since Draco had met Harry back in his First Year of Hogwarts, and a little less than forty since he'd fallen in love with him. But, Draco supposes, he'd always been in a little bit in love with Harry. That's the trouble.

He hears the sound of footsteps behind him but he does not turn. It doesn't matter to him.

"Draco," Lily says quietly, touching his shoulder. He does not respond. "Dad," she tries again, and he looks up at her. She has tears in her eyes but she is trying so hard to stay strong for him. "It's time."

Draco studies her face, still so beautiful and yet so heartbroken, and thinks of how much she's grown over the years. He remembers the days when he used to chase her around her room in the Manor and read her bedtime stories until she fell asleep—the days when he and Harry would sing her to sleep when she had woken up from nightmares. Gods, where does the time go? Draco lets Lily help him up off the ground and she takes his hand to lead him towards her new muggle vehicle, but he shakes his head. He wants to walk home.

After she has hugged him and kissed him good-bye, telling him to make sure he gets back safely, he turns and looks back at the ground again. With a heavy heart, he raises his wand and quietly conjures up a small bouquet of flowers from the tip of his wand. He picks up the bouquet and carefully places it on top of the headstone that sits in front of him now, the headstone that he'd been hovering around for almost two days now since the burial. He mutters a quick spell that will keep the bouquet fresh and hidden from the rain and then begins to walk away, back towards the now completely empty Malfoy Manor that waits for him. But before he gets too far, he turns around and looks back.

"Thank you, Harry," he finally croaks, his voice hoarse from the lack of use as he stares at the headstone once more... The headstone that covers the body of the man that Draco had lived such a long, twisted, beautiful life with. It had all been so worth it.

"For everything."