AN: Thank you so much for the faves, follows, and reviews. This is supposed to be sort of a satire, to address the 'angst' angle of things. There are some angsty sections and lines right now (and there will be quite a bit of angst come the week before the wedding) but I consider this to be a pretty light fic.
Chapter 2: Fiancée
When Draco arrived at his flat later that night, he was a little more than pleasantly inebriated. He may or may not have been stumbling, and some impaired judgment was definitely in play. Draco kicked off his shoes leisurely, rather happy with himself. Despite Pansy's whining and protests, she'd actually calmed down enough by the end of the night to accept reality. A rare occurrence in the Parkinson family. On top of that, Draco had broken the news of her 'maid of honor' status when she broke out the alcohol. Always a good time to give her information. Pansy had a seemingly never-ending flow of booze, and Draco was a little more than susceptible to the charms of a crystal wine glass himself. Even when it was filled with something a little stronger than wine.
Only when Draco removed his cloak did he realize that he could hear water running. He grinned, deciding he would simply have to join the gorgeous man currently in his shower. Their shower. He was always forgetting his 'we's, 'our's and 'their's. On the other hand, Harry was the first to throw in a 'we love Quidditch' or an 'our oven'. Bloody Gryffindor, Draco thought fondly.
Draco stripped as he walked, leaving a trail of crumpled clothes in his wake. His shirt in the entrance, his trousers in the living room, his pants in the bedroom… When Draco reached the door connecting the bedroom to the bathroom he was entirely naked.
Too drunk to consider knocking, Draco barged in unannounced, much to Harry's surprise.
"Merlin, Draco!" Harry exclaimed from the shower, "Shout a warning or something, I almost reached for my wand." Harry's glasses were set on the sink, and Draco made note of the fact that he hadn't even bothered laying out pyjamas for himself.
"'Almost' being the key word," Draco said, admiring Harry's dripping-wet form through the foggy glass door. "Wouldn't want to hex your fi-an-cée." Draco loved that word more than he cared to admit. Until a few days ago, his life had been a tug-of-war between 'boyfriend' and 'lover'. He was glad there was finally a clear decision. Also, he just liked how the word sounded. "Fiiiiiiiiancée."
"You're foxed," Harry decided, opening the glass door to invite Draco in.
The invitation was happily accepted, and Draco greeted him with a sloppy kiss beneath the spray. "I am not," he argued. "Also, turn the water pressure up. I don't understand how you feel content to stand under a trickle." Draco added, his own showers usually scalding hot and with water pelting him. Harry turned the showerhead up a notch, but not all the way. Typical. "I was just celebrating with Pansy."
"Wait, Parkinson was actually excited?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"Not really," Draco laughed, though it sounded more like a hiccup. "I celebrated. She mourned. Her loss, I had much more fun." Draco leaned against Harry, pressing a few kisses to the hollow of his throat to show him that his fun wasn't entirely over yet.
Harry wrapped his arm around Draco's waist, partially to hold him steady. "I told Ron and Hermione. They seemed…" Harry tried to find the right word, but the only ones he could think of were 'concerned', 'protective', and 'wary'. None of those were entirely awful things to be, but Harry still wished they were a little happier for him. Harry had been borderline overjoyed when they'd announced their nuptials; he'd actually sprung out of his seat and hugged them both. Now, they were treating his like a mistake Harry hadn't known he'd made yet. He didn't blame them too much, considering their tumultuous past with Draco and his entire family. Hermione still bore a scar from one of Draco's more fanatic relatives.
"Delighted, I'm sure," Draco scoffed, running his fingertips up the side of Harry's ribcage.
"They seemed happy when I told them about the fact that they were my best man and my maid of honor," Harry pointed out, needing to play the role of the optimist because Draco certainly wasn't going to.
"Shit," Draco hissed, remembering his own groomsmen situation. "I keep forgetting to owl Theo. He'll be happy for an excuse to wear dressrobes again."
"S'fine, we have time," Harry said, running a bar of soap down Draco's back. Draco leaned into his touch, nudging his nose against Harry's neck. They lingered there for a few moments in the steam of the shower, tiny rivers running over their toned bodies. "You are so beautiful," Harry said as he ran his hands up and down Draco's spine.
"Oh, Harry. Flattery will get you everywhere." It took him a couple of seconds, but Draco finally found his footing and shoved Harry into the tile wall, kissing him. Hard.
As he always did after a little guidance, Harry received the message loud and clear. He ran his fingers through Draco's wet, platinum hair as the water continued to pour down. His other hand followed the slope of Draco's pack and on to the curve of his arse. The route was familiar to the point of memorization, but never old. Draco moaned into Harry's mouth and pressed their bodies closer together.
His all-too-talented-even-when-smashed fingers made their way down to Harry's nipples, making teasing circles until they were perked up under the water. Draco grinned, knowing how sensitive they were, and lapped at the left one with his tongue. He could feel Harry's heartbeat just below his skin and the heat pooling in his own stomach.
Draco rested his hands on Harry's waist and rocked their hips together, his hard length rubbing against Harry's. "Fuck," Harry groaned, bucking up to meet the friction, "need more."
After a few more torturous thrusts, Draco pressed a quick kiss to Harry's lips. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sank to his knees. The water ran down his face but Draco couldn't be arsed to care, his grey eyes flicking down to Harry's prick. Moisture gathered on Draco's eyelashes as he moved forward, lightly sucking on the tip.
Harry let out a small whimper, sinking his fingers back into Draco's hair. "Please," he whined.
There was nothing Draco enjoyed more than reducing Harry to begging. On top of that, there was nothing Harry enjoyed more than Draco taking the reins in bed. Or in the shower. To each their own, Harry supposed. He certainly wasn't complaining.
When Draco didn't seem to be letting up on his teasing any time soon, Harry tried moving his hips up to find Draco had pinned them to the tile wall. "Please, fuck, Draco," he begged, losing all sense of coherency. "Your mouth."
Draco smirked around Harry's cock before moving down the shaft inch by inch. He slowly started sucking him, establishing a rhythm while his tongue stroked the underside of Harry's throbbing member.
"Yes," Harry groaned, tugging on Draco's hair. Despite his limited movement from being pinned, Harry was still determined to move his hips along with Draco's warm, hot mouth. It really was unfair; being a veritable god of cocksucking even while tipsy.
The blonde quickened his pace, taking Harry in deeper and faster. His own cock twitched with every noise Harry made, having him moan above him was divine. Draco rubbed at himself along with the bob of his head, giving Harry quite a show.
It had to be one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. Draco, on his knees, Harry's prick in his mouth and his hand wrapped around his own erection. Water streamed down their bodies, still warm from their permanently charmed shower. The droplets of water on Harry's sensitized skin were almost too much. "So hot, Draco, yes," Harry gasped out, his breathing becoming ragged. All it took was a few more caresses of Draco's tongue and a few more pumps from his hand and they were both coming, shuddering against the frame of the shower.
Draco rode out the orgasm, swallowing down his cum. He finally let Harry's limp cock slide out of his mouth, leaning back on the other side of the tub. Harry's knees felt weak, so he sank down to face his fiancée. When they both caught their breaths, Harry shot him a smile. "C'mere. Let me wash your hair," he offered, grabbing the shampoo from the shower shelf.
The other man simply rolled his eyes, still admittedly rather foxed, shifting to sit between Harry's legs. Harry worked the specially-brewed vanilla and mulberry shampoo into his hair, massaging his temples. Draco let out a content sigh, leaning back to rest on him. "Mmm, love you."
"I love you too, Draco."
xxxxXXXXxxxx
When Harry's blasted alarm blared its usual wake-up call —a strange conglomeration of muggle music that Harry somehow found enjoyable— Draco shoved his pillow over his head to drown it out.
His temples throbbed with the memory of the copious amounts of firewhiskey he'd had the night before. "Ungrhk," he moaned, cursing Thursdays in their entirety. Draco curled into the warm body beside him, seeking some sympathy.
"Come on, sleeping beauty. We've both got work soon," Harry said, taking the pillow off of Draco's pounding head and kissing his temple.
"Why are you shouting?" Draco whined.
Harry nuzzled up to his fiancée's naked body, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. "Let me make you a hangover brew," he whispered into his neck before shifting up and padding out to the kitchen.
Draco whimpered, staying in bed and listening to the distant clink of plates and glasses in the kitchen. He curled the champagne colored sheets around him, despite the fact that he never wanted to think of champagne ever again. Or at least for the rest of the day. When they'd originally decorated the flat, it had been a struggle of styles. Draco preferred Slytherin green, while Harry couldn't seem to shake the red he'd spent so much time around at Hogwarts. After several loud arguments in muggle and wizarding stores alike, they'd decided on a soft, earthy palette that included both dark green and maroon accents.
The sound of a self-stirring cauldron whirring dragged Draco out of his interior design reminiscing, and he cursed Theo for sending them the damned thing for Christmas. He was in a very cursing mood.
By the time Harry came in with the hangover potion, Draco's headache had doubled. "Here," he murmured, handing Draco a mug that read, 'Auror of the Month'. When the hell wasn't the Golden Boy Auror of the Month? They had a whole collection of useless hats, shirts, and certificates that said so. Either way, Draco took the mug and gulped the foul-smelling potion down.
"Fantastic," Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Harry simply acted like he didn't hear him. "We still have some of those donuts from yesterday," he pointed out, perhaps in a quiet attempt to cheer Draco up.
"The chocolate ones?"
"Those exactly," he grinned, watching as Draco practically bolted to the kitchen. Either the potion had worked, or Draco's sweet tooth had grown overnight.
Harry slipped on his trousers and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a sugary treat of his own. He'd brought them home the other night after one of the muggleborn interns at the Ministry insisted it was a joke about police forces. Harry hadn't actually heard anything like that around the Dursleys, but who was he to pass up a clear display of kindness?
Once they'd both eaten and dressed, they grabbed their respective cloaks and took the lift down together. They lived in a wizarding section of London, close by to a Ministry entrance and close enough to St. Mungo's.
Most of the population had been shocked when Draco started working there as a Healer, and a fraction of those people hated him enough to form a picket-line around the hospital. Draco had put on a brave face for the whole ordeal, suffering in silence like he usually did. His genuine desire to try to help the world he'd aided in breaking shone through to most members of the public through his numerous articles and statements, but the howlers still rolled in by the hundreds most days. In a tragicomic twist of fate, one night the ever-beloved Auror Potter arrived in his operating room, near death from a paralysis spell hitting him mid-air on his broom. Potter had fallen from the broom and almost tumbled to an early grave on account of a black market magical creatures dealer selling dragon eggs on the run. Draco had worked for hours that night, refusing to give up on the prat he had hated so much in school. Finally, at 7:53am the next day, his vitals had returned to normal.
When word got out to the Prophet that Draco had been the one who helped save him, the press went wild. With Harry confined to a strict bed rest on Healer Malfoy's orders, they'd gotten quite a lot of time to get to know each other again. In some ways, they were still the same. Draco was still snippy and cocky, while Harry was still stubborn and idealistic.
Yet somehow, the two didn't fight nearly as much. Draco discovered that Harry was actually rather clever; a loyal man who remained humble despite the massive pedestal the public had put him on. Just as Harry discovered Draco was finally making his own decisions rather than having his parents run his life, and starting to educate himself on all of the horrible things he'd said as a teenager. They had the same taste in sports teams, food, and even the same wry and dry sense of humor. Harry had even got an apology out of him, which was practically unheard of. From that moment on, Harry knew Draco was a good man, as much as he often liked to pretend he wasn't.
The real media insanity came when Harry left St. Mungo's, and was still spotted in public with Draco. The headlines heralded a 'Shocking Friendship between Two Ex-Foes!', 'The Sign We Are Truly United as a People!', and a 'New Generation of Peace!'. They had both laughed at the Prophet's speculations, a quiet companionship blossoming between them all the while.
A few months later, they truly went from the frying pan into the fire. After a stray photographer captured their first kiss in a pub with a flash of his bulb, the wizarding world was turned upside-down. People sent love potion antidotes to Harry, pleading with him not to be lured in by some Death Eater, while Draco had received death threats from Harry's adoring fans. Harry had actually made a pretty big show of drinking one of the love potion antidotes in front of a reporter, then still proclaiming he was mad for Draco Malfoy.
After that, the papers couldn't get enough of them. They stalked them on dates, followed them to group outings, documented every fight, and even located both of the separate flats they were living in at the time. People either loved them or hated them, which was not something the two were entirely unused to. Some declared they were a step in the right direction for peace and queer-wizard rights, to others they were an abomination and traitors to their old causes, and to their friends they were a source of headache and confusion. To Draco and Harry, they were just a couple.
Either way, all of that had lead up to them kissing goodbye in front of their building, heading off to separate days.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
It was later that night when Draco heard a knock on his office door. "Come in!" he shouted, his lap and desk full of patients files he was sorting through.
To his surprise, it was one of the medi-witches, Maggie. "You weren't answering your phone," she said sternly. Maggie had been a comrade of his since his first day, ushering most of his patients into the hospital rooms and preparing them for him.
"Busy." Draco didn't very much like the idea of muggle technology being installed in the hospital; he was convinced there was a magic way around it.
"Well, you have a visitor down in the lobby," Maggie informed him as she leaned against his white doorframe, absent-mindedly picking at her nails. It made Draco's skin crawl.
"Tell them I'm in a meeting. Or that someone is dying, whatever works," he drawled, trying to redirect his attention to the sea of files around him.
Maggie gave him a little 'tsk'. "I'm not your secretary. And I tried that, for the record. He won't go away."
Draco frowned and waved his wand so that all the files flew back into their correct cabinets in his office. "Fine," he huffed. "I'll go placate whatever member of Harry's fanclub that wants to duel me now."
He made his way down to the lobby, striding past a flurry of witches and wizards healing the broken and the sick. His office was on the second floor, and as he walked down the stairs he immediately saw who was making such a fuss.
"…Just tell him I'm here, okay? And that I'm going to give him a swift kick in the arse for not knowing how to work a goddamn phone."
"Theodore! Darling," Draco teased. "You really need to control that temper of yours." Theo had been one of the only people Draco had considered to be an equal for a long time, and he still considered him his best mate. The kind of best mate who called you out every time you were being an arse, and invited you to do the same.
The dark-haired man snorted, walking to meet Draco at the bottom of the stairs. "You really need to learn not to tell Pansy anything that you don't want the rest of the world knowing."
Fuck. "I knew not looking at the Prophet this morning was a mistake—"
"I'm not talking about the Prophet, Draco. Come on, you're getting married and you tell her first?" The people in the lobby were beginning to stare and whisper, so Draco grabbed him by his leather jacket and hauled him into an empty examination room.
Draco sighed, sitting down in the swivel chair that the Healers used. "I was going to tell you tonight. Pansy got it out of me last night, she had alcohol and everything!" While that might not have been the exact truth, it was close enough. He was actually going to pop in to Theo's later tonight. But his friend gave him that I-know-when-you're-bullshitting-me-Malfoy look, and he cracked. "Sorry."
"That's all I wanted to hear," Theo said happily, quite content with the trouble he'd caused Draco.
"Prat."
"Always will be," he shrugged, taking a seat on the patient's slab. "Now come on, tell me all about it. Did he get on one knee? How many carats does the wedding band have? Did you cry?"
Draco grinned from ear to ear. Finally, a positive reaction. He could always count on Theo for that. From day one Theodore had told them that if Harry made Draco happy, he was happy. "I did not cry. But yes, he did get down on one knee in the hanging gardens where we went on our first date; the one where that paparazzi got the shot of us together. It was wildly romantic, and Harry really is wonderful with things like that," he gushed. "We're picking out the wedding bands together, but they'll be silver. See?" Draco held up his left hand.
"That's fantastic," Theo said, reaching out to hold Draco's hand up to the light. "Congratulations! I can't wait for the wedding. Knowing you, the waiters and ushers will be choreographed to perfection."
"What can I say? I won't accept anything less," he smirked. Draco rolled his chair closer to Theo, giving his hand a squeeze. "Now, I've got something to tell you."
"Oh, fuck. You're pregnant, is that it? I always knew it'd be a shotgun wedding with the likes of you," Theo mock-chided.
Draco gave him a playful shove. "Screw you! That's not even possible. And I would never have a shotgun wedding."
"Right, because you'd replace all the shotguns with wands?"
"I'm trying to ask you a question, Theodore."
"Ask away, Drakey." Draco gave him another shove for calling him The Nickname That Must Not Be Used.
"Never call me that. Now it's not even a question. Cut it out and be my best man."
Theo smiled, dropping his usual antics. "Sure," he softened.
"Good. Now don't go disrupting the receptionists and medi-wizards again. I can only really explain one mysterious gentleman always calling for me at the front desk. When there are two, people start to talk," Draco teased. The whole idea that people would even mistake them as a couple had been a joke since their years in Hogwarts. They thought of each other as brothers despite their shared sexual preference, and dissolved into laughter every time someone asked them if they'd ever tried dating.
"Fine, fine. Now come on you big poof, let me take you out to celebrate," Theo said. "Unless you're all tuckered out from your admission to the She-Beast?"
Draco let out a huff of air. "I'm perfectly fine. My fiancée made me a hangover potion in the morning." He really, really loved that word.
"Oh, well then. Some men really do have it all," Theo jabbed jokingly.
Draco stood up, giving him one of his signature smirks. "Of course. Now you come on! After all, tonight is on you."
