Author's Note: Hey, sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. I didn't realize Junior year would be this difficult! But, I had a moment of inspiration amidst my AP procrastination, and this is what happened =) It's rather unedited, as I just finished typing it. But I wanted it up, and if you can give me some constructive criticism, it would be much appreciated =) Thanks!
Edit: This doesn't really matter much, but I've edited it a bit (and I really mean a bit), but I thought I'd put the (slightly) better version up instead of the completely raw one.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Sleeping Beauty, or the movie Pride and Prejudice (From which I borrowed a quote. Can you find it?)
Harry closes the door behind him, hanging his coat on the rack beside the door. Walking into the adjacent living room, Harry is surprised to see that Draco is not there. Strange. He usually researches possibilities for new potions. Harry's face falls into an expression of confusion. Where could he be then?
"Draco?"
Even stranger. No reply. Harry begins to worry something could have happened. Some vengeful client perhaps? Maybe Draco sold a bad potion. No. Couldn't be. Laughing at the ridiculous possibility that Draco even created a bad potion, let alone sell one, Harry makes his way back to the stairs by the front hall, intent on searching upstairs. Perhaps Draco's in the shower. Lifting his foot and placing his hand on the railing, Harry's foot catches the step and he falls forward.
"Oh smooth, Potter. You'd think an Auror would be more coordinated." Harry shakes his head at his clumsiness, griping the wall and railing to regain his footing. Without any other mishaps, Harry makes it up the rest of the stairs and turns to head towards the bedroom. Or, more specifically, the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Moving along the hallway, Harry trails his hand along the cast iron banister. He's always loved this house. Beauty and elegance are in abundance, which might be the only reason he was able to convince Draco to move in. Upon reaching the bedroom door, Harry smiles as he turns the knob and walks in.
And stops dead in his tracks.
Ah, so this is what Draco has been doing all day. Napping. Harry shakes his head incredulously. That man is like a cat. Elegant, arrogant, obsessive about bathing, and sleeping like his life depends on it. But the scene before him isn't one he has the chance to see very often, and it always reminds Harry of how much his husband means to him.
Draco is a picture of shear beauty. His silvery blond hair frames his face like a halo, catching the light and making him shine. His milky white skin shines as if from within, giving him an aura of innocence. His hand rests lightly on his stomach, rising and falling to the beat of his breathing. His head tilts to meet his other hand, and his hand has bent up too meet his cheek. His lips are parted just slightly, giving him an air of vulnerability and giving his face an almost fragile appearance. So fleeting, like a butterfly's kiss. Just an instant and then it's gone. His face is free of any worry lines and no frown mars his face. Only the peaceful perfection that sleep can bring on describes Draco in this instant.
As with the butterfly's kiss though, it lasts but a moment before Draco shifts and opens his eyes. Seeing Harry just standing there staring brings a confused look to his face.
"What on earth are you doing just standing there Potter?" Draco asks softly, sitting up and stretching.
"Nothing. Just admiring the general splendor." Harry flashes a smile before turning around and heading downstairs.
"Hey! What kind of answer is that Potter? Don't leave after giving an answer like that!" Draco swings his legs off the bed and proceeds to stand up and follow his husband.
"Shh. I have to sketch something before I lose the image. But feel free to start dinner!"
Draco rolls his eyes as he walks toward the closet, wanting to find some fresh clothes to wear for dinner. After all, one must always be aware of their appearance in case one happens to run into someone important.