A/N: Before I start talking about the chapter, I just wanted to thank all of you for reading and reviewing. I really hope that you liked the prologue.
As always, I don't own anything that's JK's. The Toblerone Mountain is still not mine, either. Dang it. Jensen is mine, however, but I think I promised him to vinterdrog.
Now, however, Chapter 1 is finished for you to read. It's divided between Harry's and Draco's POV, and each switch is marked with HPOV (for Harry) and DPOV (for Draco). I hope that this won't confuse anyone.
Since this story takes place after their time at Hogwarts, seven years as you all know, Harry and Draco have changed – because people change. I did my best to make them, er...age with their characters still intact and tried to consider how circumstances in their life should have affected them. I hope you find the way I've written them living up to your expectations.
Anyway, enough of babbling. Just a quick thanks to my awesome beta gbheart for always doing such a great job.
Aaaand here we go!
CHAPTER 1
HPOV
The air was chilly and held a warning of rain. It was the beginning of March but felt more like a bleak autumn night, and Harry was making his way towards the Muggle pub where he was supposed to meet Ron and Hermione.
He rarely left his home these days, and felt a little insecure as he walked down the streets. Most of them were Muggles, he assumed, but there could probably be a wizard or two among them, and he did not want to be recognized if he could help it.
Why Hermione had insisted on them meeting outside of either of their homes, he had no idea. Once a week, he made dinner for all three of them, and they joined him in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
With a shiver running down his spine, he pulled his jacket closer around him, picking up the pace of his steps a notch or two, just as the first lightning flashed across the black sky.
"Harry! There you are!" The sound of Hermione's voice barely had the chance to reach his ears, before the thunder drowned out any other noise.
His two friends stood just outside the door to the Muggle pub, clad in perfectly acceptable Muggle clothes; Harry had a feeling that Hermione had something to do with Ron's very Muggle-ish appearance. They both seemed to glow in the dim light that made its way through the dirty pub windows.
He ran the final distance, just as the first heavy raindrops decided to fall. By the time the three of them had made it inside the door, it was pouring it down outside.
"Mate, what took you so long?" Ron said as soon as Hermione had guided them to a table in a back corner. Harry gave her a grateful shade of a smile before he hung his jacket over the backrest of the empty chair next to him.
"I got lost a couple of times. I'm rarely in this area," Harry mumbled and pretended to be studying the menu very closely.
"The only area you're actually in, these days, is your home. And ours," Ron pointed out. It was true, of course, but Harry did not want to hear them nagging about his lack of social life right now.
"Ron," Hermione chided and put her hand over her husband's. They had gotten married a little over a year ago and seemed happier than ever.
A waiter effectively prevented any reply Ron might have had in mind, by pulling out a small pad and a pen from his dark green apron.
"Ready to order?" he asked in a heavy Irish accent.
Harry had a hard time deciding the man's age. His face was round and youthful, reminding him a bit of Neville Longbottom, while he was clearly balding, with only small patches of reddish-blonde hair left.
Hermione ordered for them. She usually did for some reason, even though both Harry and Ron looked through their menus every time they went out to eat. Which, on the other hand, they rarely did anymore. The waiter disappeared after tugging the pad and pen back in the front pocket of his apron and gathering the remaining napkin and cutlery that stood abandoned by the empty seat next to Harry.
He always felt extremely alone every time that happened.
"Before I forget it, Harry, I met Neville this morning, and he asked me to say hi." Hermione's smile told him that she was more worried about him than she wanted to let on.
"I should ask to see him sometime," he answered vaguely, just because he knew that that was the answer she wanted. Perhaps he actually would this time, in case he did not accept the job Kingsley had offered him.
"Have you seen anyone from school since the wedding, Harry?" she asked, and he sighed internally, knowing where this discussion was heading.
"Yes. You and Ron. I bumped into Seamus once, when I was in Diagon Alley."
"And that was what, nine months ago?" Ron cut in and rested his chin in his hands.
Harry glared at him. He hated these discussions. They always seemed to worry about him not getting out enough, not meeting enough people, not socializing with anyone else other than them.
"Alright, alright. Let's leave that until we've had a couple of beers," Ron said and waved dismissively. "While we're on the subject – people from school, I mean – I thought I'd let you know that Malfoy was at the Ministry the other day."
Harry's head snapped up. Malfoy?Was he even in England anymore? Harry had not heard a word about the man since the trials, where he had testified for the Slytherin's benefit.
"Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked.
"There are no other Malfoy's still alive, Hermione," Ron snorted and looked pleased to be the one reminding her for once, and not the other way around. "I thought the ferret had left the country years ago, but apparently he hasn't, or he's back."
"Did you talk to him?" Harry felt like he was missing something that he should have understood minutes ago. He could not for the world understand why Malfoy would even consider returning to England, if he had even left.
"No, of course not! But he was the same, you know, fancy clothes, fancy hair, fancy walk. Fancy everything, really." Ron shrugged, he looked like he knew more about the matter than he wanted to tell them, but Harry did not want to push it. Ron told them more about the Aurors' work than he should, already.
"Speaking about the Ministry," he said instead and folded his hands in his lap. "Kingsley offered me a job a couple of days ago."
"For the three-hundredth time, you mean?"
The waiter showed up again with a black tray and placed their orders in front of them. Harry noted that Hermione, for once, had not ordered beer for herself. Perhaps she had an important meeting early tomorrow.
"Anyway," Harry said as soon as the waiter had left them alone again. "This time, it's an offer I'm actually thinking about accepting." He swallowed as his two friends looked up at him. They knew all too well that he had declined hundreds of jobs that he had been offered, over the past seven years.
"You are?" Hermione said, after regaining herself from being dumbfounded.
"Yes," he said quietly. "But I have to move to America. And get married."
Ron dropped his spoon in his soup with a splash and stared at Harry with enormous eyes.
"Oh man," he said. "Oh man, oh man, oh man."
"What? It's not that far away with an international Portkey." He had hoped that they would support him in this. They had been the ones to constantly tell him to get a job, to do something with his life, and when he finally was considering something, Ron seemed to freak out.
"Get married?" Hermione squeaked through the hand she had clamped over her own mouth. "To whom?"
"I don't know," Harry confessed just as Ron said:
"To Malfoy."
"What?"
Ron had clearly lost his mind.
"Okay, mate. Don't freak out, because I'm freaking out a little bit over here. Someone needs to remain sane." Ron held his hands up as if to shield himself from a possible outburst of rage from Harry's side. "I told you I saw Malfoy at the Ministry, right? Actually, I know what he was talking to Kingsley about, because Kingsley told me about this job. In America. He was thinking about sending Malfoy there, because apparently he's some genius when it comes to organized crimes and stuff. I had no idea, just for the record."
"But what is this job all about, and why would Harry have to marry him?Has Kingsley lost his mind?" Hermione was clearly upset, but Harry did not know if it was because of the questioned logic of the job, or because Ron knew more about it than she did.
Harry himself had no idea what to say or even how to react. His head was spinning, heart beating faster, still searching for some kind of indication that Ron was mistaken and that Malfoy had nothing to do with this.
"It's some sort of undercover job over there. They can't use their own people, and I don't know why. Kingsley doesn't want to send official ministry employees either, so he's thinking about sending Malfoy over there. And Harry, it seems. Since they're not connected to the Ministry, it won't be a huge problem if someone happens to know who they are. And Harry is a great Quidditch player, which means he would be the perfect case to pose as a professional."
"But Harry hasn't played Quidditch for years,Ron. No, the field behind the Burrow once every other year doesn't count!" She added the last part just as Harry was about to open his mouth to point out that he actually did play Quidditch with Ron and the rest of the Weasley family.
"Have some faith, Hermione," Ron said and looked almost offended, as if he was the one considering the job and not Harry.
"This does not explain why he has to marry Malfoy of all people." Hermione had crossed her arms over her chest, with a look on her face that made Harry wonder if she was thinking of possible messages to put in a howler to Kingsley.
"Someone has to spend some time with the other players' partners. I don't think they're supposed to solve anything. I guess the American Ministry is taking care of that, but they're supposed to keep an eye on them."
Harry was surprised by the calm Ron seemed to possess all of a sudden, while Hermione was getting all worked up. It felt like they were both portraying his very split reaction to the news. One part of him felt like running to Kingsley and demanding to know what the hell was wrong with him, while the other wanted to lean back in the chair and shrug – except that the last part made no sense whatsoever to him, and that alone was frightening. He watched as Ron and Hermione kept bickering, as though he was not even there.
Moving to America was one thing. Working with Malfoy was definitely another. The two of them combined? Harry doubted that he would be able to keep the little sanity he still had left.
"I have to tell Kingsley that I can't accept the job," he muttered, cutting them off, pulling his fingers through his hair. It was a huge let down, of course. The job had seemed as the perfect opportunity to get away from all of the attention for a while, to live a normal life of some sort, even if it was fake. But working with Malfoy? No way.
"Yeah, you should. I doubt Malfoy knows about this if you don't. He didn't look furious when he left, and Kingsley was still alive this morning." Ron fished up the spoon from his soup with his fingertips and wiped the soup off of it with his napkin, before continuing with his meal as if nothing had happened.
"Maybe you should accept the job, Harry," Hermione said, suddenly calm again, and looked thoughtful as she picked on her food.
"Why?" Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief. "We're talking about Malfoy here. You know, the blonde guy that has been an arrogant brat since the second we first met him? Harry doesn't want to work with him."
"I'm right here, you know. You don't have to talk about me like I'm not sitting at the same table as you." But Harry's words were useless, because his two friends were in a discussion again.
"He's also the person that Harry was obsessed with for his entire time in school," Hermione pointed out before turning to Harry. "Perhaps that means something?"
"What are you suggesting?" he asked with a tired sigh. He had, truly, been obsessed with Malfoy over the years. Especially during his sixth year. And even though he did not want to confess this even to himself, he had been leafing through the Daily Prophet every morning, the past seven years to get some information about what Malfoy was doing now. It had not provided him with much information, and now his heart was beating in that adrenaline-rush way, his brain making sure to remember every word about the other man, as though he was sixteen all over again.
"I think you should take the job, Harry. Not only because you need to get out and get a social life again, because I know how much you hate all of the attention you get when you go out here, and how hard it is for you to...findsomeone,but also because I think you need to get some answers to this obsession you have with Malfoy." Hermione's eyes were soft now, and he had a feeling that she knew something about him that he did not.
"Harry hasn't been thinking about Malfoy for years, Hermione. He doesn't need any answers." Ron was getting worked up, and Harry had a feeling that he had been so calm about the whole situation, just a few minutes ago, because he had been sure that Harry would say no to a job that had anything to do with their former school nemesis.
"You haven't, Harry?" Hermione said, with a knowing glint in her eyes that Harry knew far too well.
"Er," he mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed without really knowing why. "I guess I have. Since he just disappeared like that. Like he had left the country or was sitting hidden in a house somewhere-"
"Just like you," Ron cut off, and Harry felt the irritation sting somewhere inside.
"Whatever," he muttered and started stabbing his steak with his fork. "I have to think about this."
"What's there to think about?" Ron gestured so wildly with his hands that he almost knocked over his beer. "You're going to stay here, with me, Hermione and the baby."
Harry blinked, trying to process the last couple of words that had left Ron's mouth. The baby.
"You're having...a baby?" he said quietly and looked between them.
Hermione's face suddenly grew very soft, and the glow was there again. She put her hands on her belly as if to confirm without using words.
"We are," Ron said. "Well, actually, we brought you here to tell you. And ask you if you would like to be the godfather, because...you know, you're our best friend." His friend cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, as if he found the sudden emotional situation slightly uncomfortable.
Hermione reached across the table and put her hand upon Harry's, smiling warmly at him.
"We really want you to be, if you want to."
They were having a baby? A tiny little person? Ron was going to be a father?
"Of course," he blurted and felt his throat tighten somewhat. "I...yes, of course I will."
"It's still really early," Hermione explained, still not letting go of his hand. "But we wanted you to know first. I still think you should accept this job, Harry. You deserve to be happy and, at the moment, you're not. Maybe this could give you a new view of life. Maybe this is the right thing to do? If not, you can always come back, and the baby won't be here for another eight months. You have plenty of time to move over there, try a new way of life, and come back in time to welcome our new family member to the world."
"But...I might miss out on things. Who's Ron going to turn to when he needs to complain about your mood swings? And who am I going to cook for?" Harry felt slightly lost, slightly out of balance. And very confused.
"Mate, it's not the end of the world. As you said, you'll just be an international Portkey away, if I need to see you, and there's always fire-call." Ron's words surprised him a little, and he wondered if Hermione was not the only one with hormonal issues right now.
"Weren't you just telling me not to go?" Harry muttered accusingly and rubbed his palms over his face. It would have been easier if they had both told him not to go, and that it was a lousy idea, but now when they were both insisting, Harry found himself crumbling, giving in.
"Yeah, but I think Hermione's right. You need to get this Malfoy-obsession out of your system. Marrying him seems to be a good way to do that." And then, Ron suddenly sniggered as if they were in fourth year all over again. "I can't believe you're getting married to Malfoy. I have to be there when Kingsley tells him. I can imagine the look of his face." Ron closed his eyes with a silly smile on his lips, most likely picturing how Malfoy would react when the news was delivered.
"I can't believe I'm actually agreeing to this," Harry groaned and glared at his two friends across the table. "If I end up dead, it's all your fault."
xXx
DPOV
Draco hurried down the corridors of the Ministry, while trying to look like he was not – being stressed out did not suit anyone. It was a little over a week since his first meeting with Shacklebolt, and he was running slightly late. He had done his best to look his usual casually-smashing self and had forgotten all about how quickly time seem to pass when one is trying to find the perfect shirt, for the first meeting with one's future wife.
Those words sounded so strange, even when they were only uttered inside his head. He was not sure if it was because of the fact that he was getting married, or because he was marrying a woman.
He was secretly thankful that neither of his parents were alive to see him willingly marry someone completely random, for the sake of a job. His mother would have had a heart attack.
As he reached the doors to Shacklebolt's office, he straightened up and smoothened his shirt with one hand, hoping that his hair was its usual perfect work of art. And then he knocked, feeling his heart beat faster for every second that ticked by without someone calling for him to enter.
He was thankful that the corridors outside the Minister's office were empty because he would have felt even more annoyed for standing there for an inappropriately long amount of time, if other people had been watching him.
Just as he was thinking about whether to leave or knock again, the big door opened silently in front of him, and a familiar face appeared in the doorway.
"Weasley?" he blurted with an ounce of disgust in his voice, before he had a chance to stop himself. He had not seen Potter's best friend for years, except for his wedding picture in the Prophet about a year ago. He looked the same, though: ginger, freckly, Weasley. Draco was not too impressed with how he had aged. Some of his school mates, including Draco, had been growing into stunning looking people. Weasley was just as average as he had always been.
"Malfoy," Weasley said and opened the door wider, while gesturing for Draco to enter.
He wanted to ask what the heck Weasley was doing there, but the look on Shacklebolt's face behind that mahogany desk told him to shut it, before he had even considered opening his mouth.
As he entered and Weasley stepped aside, Draco noticed another man sitting in one of the three empty chairs opposite the Minister. He had black, unruly hair, slightly tanned skin and a relaxed posture, clad in Muggle jeans and a shirt. He was just telling himself that the man looked quite a lot like a less scrawny version of Harry Potter, when the man turned his head and met his gaze.
It was the less scrawny version of Harry Potter.
Draco froze, staring back at the other man's face. They had not spoken for years. In fact, the last time Draco had ever heard from the other man was when an owl delivered his wand without a note.
And even though they had both been boys at the time, Potter was certainly a grown man now. Draco had been taken aback, because even though he avoided the Prophet like the plague, he had surely caught a picture of the Saviour of the Wizarding World from time to time. They must all have been old, because Potter still looked like a scrawny boy in them, wearing those round, stupid glasses. He had switched them for rectangular ones now.
They suited him better, Draco thought.
"Malfoy," Potter greeted, looking so frighteningly calm. It made Draco want to shout something really inappropriate and childish at him, as his own heart was pounding behind his ribs and his brain quickly put the pieces together. Kingsley had never actually mentioned that Draco would marry a woman.
Sneaky fucking man, Draco snorted mentally as he thanked his Malfoy-facade and said coolly: "Potter."
"Why don't you take a seat." Shacklebolt gestured towards the chair closest to the door, next to Potter, who still seemed all but surprised over Draco showing up.
He must have known, Draco thought as he hesitated for a moment, before taking the few steps past Weasley and sitting down. He doubted that Potter had miraculously managed to learn how to hide his emotions in seven years.
The door closed, leaving the four of them in an office that was way too small for Draco, Potter and Weasley. Shacklebolt seemed unaffected by the tension between the three younger men, as he pulled out a stack of parchments. Then he looked up, with a small smile on his lips and said:
"Mr. Malfoy, meet your new spouse," while gesturing towards Potter.
Draco did his best not to glare as he returned the look, effectively ignoring that it was rude not to return a smile. He was panicking, heart beating faster with every second.
"Excuse me?" he managed at last, trying his best to look offended and not terrified.
"Harry will pose as your husband," Shacklebolt clarified. "Pretending to be a professional Quidditch player, and you will be an interior designer."
In the middle of his state of panic, Draco could not help but wonder why Potter always got the good end of all the deals. Not only had he beaten Draco in every Quidditch match, every House Cup, he had chosen the winning side in the war before Draco and now, he had gotten the, by far, most desired position in their marriage. Pretend marriage, Draco corrected himself.
"An interior designer?" he snorted instead of all the 'it's not fair' and 'how come Potter gets all the good things?' that spun in his head.
"It's the perfect way to visit people's homes, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt answered calmly and pretended as if he had not heard the questioning of his sanity in Draco's tone. "We will, of course, hand you solutions to any job you might be offered in the area, by real interior designers."
"Great," he muttered. Now Potter got the cool job, and got to perform it by himself. Draco, on the other hand, would be handed instructions to the most...ridiculous job he could ever think of.
He knew that he should say that he had changed his mind, that this job was no longer what he desired, that he gladly stayed in England hiding away from the rest of the world for another seven years. He did not, though. Not only because he was a Malfoy and when he had agreed to something, he did his best to stay true to his word, but also because Potter was sitting calmly next to him, apparently not nearly as freaked out by this as Draco, and Draco refused to lose to him one more time.
"Do you know our history, Shacklebolt?" he asked instead, directing some of the attention to the man beside him.
"I do," the minister answered. "I trust that your history will not be a hindrance in this matter, because you are both grown men."
"Of course, Kingsley," Potter said, and Draco felt like slapping him because ofcourse he was on first name basis with the Minister.
"And I trust that you work on your signature, Harry, since you will take on Malfoy as your last name."
Potter just nodded, still visibly unaffected by the insane situation. Draco had to fight to stay put in his chair and not give in to the urge to storm out of the office, hexing anyone in his way. Merlin, he could not believe that he was sitting there, discussion his upcoming marriage with Harry Potter. And the bloody bastard was taking Draco's last name as his own. Draco's father would have had a fit.
"Well, gee, I'm glad we took my name, since I'm obviously the bitch in this relationship. Thank you for letting me keep some of my manliness," he muttered and glared at Weasley when he started to snicker.
Shacklebolt seemed to be fighting to keep a straight face, but Potter only looked straight ahead, fiddling with the hem of his shirt – the only thing that told Draco that the other man was not as calm as he let on. It made him feel less inferior, knowing that the other man was affected by this too.
"Are you both still accepting this job?" the Minister asked, while he was leafing through the stack of parchments he had placed on his desk earlier.
"Yes," Draco answered after a couple of seconds of hesitation. He suddenly felt like throwing up, and wondered how many days it would take before they tried to kill each other.
Potter nodded next to him, pulling his fingers through his hair in the same way Draco had seen him do so many times from across the Great Hall. Some things never changed, it seemed.
"Then I would like you both to sign here and here-" Shacklebolt pointed at the bottom of the parchment he was holding up for them. "It is to confirm your marriage. After this contract has been signed by the both of you, and thereafter by Mr. Weasley and I, you are legally wed."
"I can't believe I'm actually agreeing to marry you, Malfoy," Potter said in a faint voice, as he reached for the quill the Minister was providing him with. It was if reality had suddenly caught up with him too.
"Mmm," Draco answered simply and watched intently as Potter pressed the tip of the quill onto the parchment, signing it hastily, as if he was afraid he would change his mind if he did not get it over with.
He noticed how his own hand shook as he accepted the quill, when Potter offered it to him. Hopefully, none of the other men had noticed.
His signature glowed dark blue against the pale surface of the parchment, next to Potter's, before they both turned dark red. Permanent.
"Now what?" Weasley asked, uttering the very question Draco had tumbling around in his head.
"Now," Shacklebolt repeated. "I must bid Mr. and Mr. Malfoy to leave, before coming back again in two days for the photographs. As Mrs. Weasley was happy to point out, your future home would seem strange without any photos of the two of you. Therefore I must ask you to bring a few sets of clothes."
At first, Draco felt like fainting when the words "Mr. and Mr. Malfoy"was spoken out loud. Then he started to wonder why Weasley's mum was involved in the matter, before realising that Shacklebolt must have been referring to Weasley's wife. Granger was now, indeed, a Mrs. Weasley. She would always be Granger to Draco, though. There were too many Weasleys on the planet as it was.
"I'll be leaving, then," Draco said as he stood awkwardly. Not really sure of how one said goodbye to their pretend-husband.
"See you Thursday, Malfoy," Potter said with a weird wave, obviously as confused with the situation as Draco was.
"See you, Potter. Weasley. Minister." He felt stupid for forgetting completely about Weasley and Shacklebolt, having to add their names one by one as he realised that they, too, were in the room.
"Can I suggest something?" Weasley said, causing Draco to halt in his tracks and turn back. Merlin, how he wished that Potter would just say no to this question. "Perhaps, since you two now are married and all-" Draco groaned mentally in frustration. "- you should be on first name basis?"
He was right. Of course he was right. Draco hated that Weasley, for once, said something right.
"See you, Harry," he said instead. Feeling awkward about the way his tongue bent around the unfamiliar name.
"Bye...Draco," Potter added his name quickly when Weasley's elbow found his ribs.
Draco leaned against the wall just outside Shacklebolt's office, when the door had closed behind him. For a few seconds, he only stood there, staring blankly into the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, and then he realised that he had to get going if he did not want to be standing there like a fool when the other men exited the Minister's office. He almost knocked Granger off her feet, as he only just avoided walking straight into her, when he rounded a corner.
Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?
xXx
HPOV
Harry and Hermione were sitting together by the kitchen table, in Grimmauld Place. Not even an hour had passed since they had left Kingsley's office, sending Ron to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. As they were waiting for him to get back, Hermione was writing a list of things Harry should and definitely should not pack.
"I bumped into Malfoy just moments before I met up with you," she said as she stroked the soft eagle feather of her quill over her chin absentmindedly. Harry guessed that she was trying to figure out if she had forgotten something on her lists.
"Okay," he muttered, not really sure what kind of answer she wanted from him.
"He looks really good, you know."
She had a smile in her eyes that had not yet reached her lips, when he met her gaze.
"So?" It was not as if Harry was blind. At least not with glasses on. The man had looked ridiculously good. When he had entered that office, Harry had thought that Ron had been mistaken and that the person standing there was a model from a witch magazine. For a moment, he had not even been able to recognize the boy from school, except for the blonde hair and pale skin. But then the straight nose, the close-to-silver grey eyes and the straight posture had been too strong reminders for Harry to keep any doubt.
"You could do worse," she said simply and added something at the bottom of the list.
"Are you trying to steal my husband?" Harry did his best to pretend as if he was offended and not scared to death by the fact that he had just admitted to himself that he found Draco Malfoy good looking, along with the realisation that he had just married him, too.
Hermione laughed and put the quill down, before rising from her chair. It creaked in protest as she moved.
"No, Harry. I'm perfectly happy where I am, I promise. Was he rude when you met him?" She started to set the table and just shook her head, as he made an indication to get up an help her.
"Not really," he said while trying to recall the extremely tense meeting in Kingsley's office. "I mean, he was quite defensive, even though he seemed quite relaxed. I felt like an idiot for almost freaking out, even though I knew about the whole thing already, and he didn't. I guess he was quite snarky, but not rude, no. Not to anyone in particular." And even though Malfoy had said that sarcastic comment about clearly being the bitch in their relationship, Harry had found it way closer to a joke than an insult, if such a thing could ever exist when the two of them were in the same room.
"That makes sense, but you always seem to forget that he has been raised by two stone-faced people. I'm sure he was a lot more scared or confused than he let on." Hermione placed the cutlery neatly on the right side of the plates, before reaching for the glasses. "It was quite obvious in school, wasn't it? The way he rarely showed any emotions except for being arrogant?"
Harry nodded, but remembered clearly how he had walked in on Malfoy in the bathroom, during sixth year, crying. The image had haunted him for years, because it showed a side of Malfoy that he had never known even existed.
"Yeah, I guess. When did his parents die?" He remembered hearing about it, but was not sure that it had ever been in the Prophet.
"A few years ago. A couple of years after the war ended, I think. If I recall correctly, they were moving to France to get some peace of mind. They weren't exactly treated nicely by anyone here. But they died in that accident at the French Ministry, where the guarding dragon broke loose and practically killed everyone in there." She had been halting in the middle of a movement, like she so often did when she was talking about something she tried to remember at the same time. "Dragons are banned as guards in France now, but I can't understand how anyone would ever think having one there in the first place was a good idea. A disaster was bound to happen."
Harry did not recall this particular event at all. He must have heard about the Malfoy deaths from Ron, who had probably caught the news at the Ministry. For some reason, he wondered who had been the one to tell Malfoy what had happened, and if he had been completely alone after that.
"Have you been thinking about what to wear for your photos, Harry? I have made up a plan for what kind of photos to take after I visited people to see what kind of photos they have in their homes. Wedding pictures are a given, but I also think you should have some of you on holiday. People want that kind of memories to be eternalised in a photograph." She brushed the hair out of her face, before folding the cotton napkins neatly and placing them beside the plates.
"You have visited people to find these kinds of things out?" Harry asked in amazement.
"Of course," she said and seemed a little surprised over the fact the he even asked her such a question. "This has to be believable, Harry, and forgive me, but those Aurors often seem to forget those tiny details that completes the picture. And I'm worried about you." She added the last part with eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
"You don't have to be worried about me, Hermione." He patted her hand awkwardly, cursing himself inwardly for still not knowing what to do in situations like these.
"But, Harry, this is dangerous." She sank down in the chair next to him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"We have been through more dangerous things, remember?" Of course she remembered. She had not been Obliviated anytime, in the past seven years. "And thank you, for looking up things like that. I'm not sure what I'll do without you and Ron."
"You'll be fine," she sniffed, before taking a deep breath and straightening her posture. "As I said, pictures from your holidays."
"We've never been on holiday," he muttered and dreaded the fact that he would have to put up with posing for photos, willingly.
"Of course you haven't," she said. "We'll just have to play pretend, won't we? I have a few ideas to what clothes you could wear."
"It doesn't matter what I wear. I'll still look ridiculous next to him," Harry whined and felt like he was five years old again. Hermione rewarded him with an all-too-knowing smile.
"I admit that he looks good, Harry, but even if youhaven't noticed that you happened to grow up into a quite handsome man, I'm fairly certain everyone else have."
xXx
DPOV
Granger was already there when Draco stepped inside the door. It was some sort of conference room, with a long table and chairs that stood too close together for anyone to sit comfortably any longer than a couple of hours. She looked much like she had back in school, with the big hair and the slightly boring but ever so dainty way of dressing.
He had not known that she was supposed to be there as well, but perhaps he could have figured out as much, since she was the one that had come up with the idea in the first place.
"Hello," she said, and smiled in a way Draco had not expected from anyone that was friends with Potter.
"Hello," he answered cautiously, nodding in a polite way without being too friendly. It was Granger, after all.
"Harry's not here yet, but I'm sure he'll be around soon. I have asked a freelance photographer to take the photos of you, so we're waiting for him, too. Did you bring your clothes?" She was talking swiftly and seemed to be in the middle of arranging items in her purse, which was able to swallow more of her arm than what should have been possible considering the modest size of it.
"Yes." Draco pointed towards the bag over his shoulder. He wanted Potter to show up soon, so this whole crazy idea could be over and done with, but then again, the earlier Potter decided to show up, the faster Draco would have to pretend to be in love with him, posing for photos. Wedding photos.
"Good. I thought that we would take your wedding photos on a beach. It seems to me that neither you or Harry would prefer the wedding to be something big or flashy, right?"
It felt extremely weird to be talking to Granger in such a relaxed way. For a moment, he wondered if he had forgotten something nice he had done for her in the past. She was right, though. Draco would not have wanted a big, fancy wedding inside a magnificent building, with lots of important guests. Perhaps before the war began, when he was still of the opinion that fame and attention were more important than family. Perhaps back then.
"Right," he replied quietly. He had not seen Potter since they, well yes, got married, and he felt terrified about doing so. They were supposed to take pictures of them as a couple, looking ridiculously in love. Draco was a good actor, and he probably would have been perfectly able to perform such an act with anyone...except Potter. He had spent years hating him. Trying to push that aside to be able to look as if he was in love with him seemed an impossible thing, right now.
"There you are, Harry," Granger said suddenly, and Draco looked up quickly, just in time to see her envelop Potter in a friendly hug. The other man was casually dressed in Muggle jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt that still somehow managed to emphasize the fact that Potter was, indeed, very much a grown man and not a scrawny boy.
"Malfoy," the other man said with an awkward nod, as he noticed Draco. He seemed taller than Draco had expected. It could have been the refined definition of his muscular shoulders that made him look less like a toothpick and more manly, or he could have grown a couple of inches since their last meeting.
Draco only nodded back. No one had ever taught him the appropriate way to greet his pretend-husband, or how to handle a situation where said pretend-husband was your former school enemy.
Potter turned to Granger again, speaking too low for Draco to hear. He felt slightly left out as he watched them interact with each other. For a moment, it felt as if he was back in the corridors of Hogwarts, where Potter and his two minions stood discussing their secrets too low for anyone to hear. Especially Draco. Not that he had ever wanted to hear their secrets, but it was a matter of principle.
"Good evening, lovebirds," came a slightly raspy voice from the doorway. The man that stood there looked like a lumberjack with his red flannel shirt and moss green cargo trousers, which ended in a pair of heavy, dark brown boots. The dark golden shade of his skin and the sun bleached strikes in his light brown hair told Draco that he spent a lot of his time outdoors. Just as the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes were witnesses of many smiles over the years.
He did not look like a wedding photographer, Draco thought immediately.
"Jensen," Granger greeted and shook his hand in a very professional way. "I assume you have been talking to the Minister about this particular matter?"
Jensen nodded and retrieved a note from the front pocket of his shirt. He unfolded it in a slightly dramatic fashion and read out loud:
"This job is strictly confidential, and you will be held under a strict vow, to guarantee the people involved secrecy." He then folded the note again and put it back again with a quirked eyebrow. "Not very informative. Though, you told me this was about wedding pictures?"
Draco wished that he had not agreed to Shacklebolt's stupid job offer, when the photographer mentioned wedding pictures.
"Correct," Granger agreed with a nod and pointed first at Harry, and then Draco. "This is Harry and Draco Malfoy."
Draco suspected that he had never heard their names in the same sentence without the topic being detention before. Granger definitely knew how to make an introduction, as Jensen seemed to measure the distance between the two men.
"The newlyweds?" he then asked. The look of disbelief on his face made it clear that he understood that this was not the usual married couple he would photograph.
"Yes," Granger answered.
"I see." Jensen nodded while tapping absentmindedly on the lens cover of the camera that hung in a strap around his neck. He glanced at Potter for a second, before his eyes widened in realisation, as he understood who it actually was. "Harry, was it? And...Malfoy?" he added, as he turned towards Draco, who tried to look as if he had been thinking about something else completely.
"It's Ministry business," Granger said firmly. "No questions allowed. We need pictures from a range of situations and places. I have a few ideas of where to go, and I took the liberty to set up a few Portkeys to take us there."
"Aye," Jensen muttered with a shrug. "But...if this is going to look believable, except for the different locations, sets of clothes and my stupendous talent as a photographer, these two have to work. No one will ever believe they just got married if they keep standing on either side of the room, to keep a distance. I'm good at manipulating photos, but not thatgood."
Potter looked as if he felt embarrassed and looked anywhere but at Draco, who wanted to kill Granger for her lousy idea.
"Fine," she said briskly and retrieved a slim pencil from her purse. "Come on. I know you dislike travelling with Portkeys, Harry, but this is necessary. You too, Malfoy."
Draco sighed deeply and rolled his eyes at her suddenly all-business behaviour. Annoying Gryffindors.
"I think I'm filing for a divorce," he muttered, as he crossed the floor quickly enough for Granger not to snap at him, and lazily enough to make it clear that he was not particularly engaged in this.
Potter's fingers grazed against his for a fraction of a second as they both grasped the pencil Granger presented them with. Just as Jensen mimicked their actions, Granger clicked the pencil and a familiar, not-too-comfortable tug behind Draco's navel pulled him out in a whirl of colour and motion sickness.
Merlin knew how much he preferred Apparition to this stupid invention.
They landed just moments later, though Draco's body felt as if they had been spinning for hours. He smirked as he watched Potter stumble slightly to keep his balance, while Draco landed as gracefully as always.
Granger had brought them to an empty beach surrounded by pale cliffs. The sand was almost white and looked soft beneath Draco's well-polished shoes. Calm waves rolled in with that particular sound Draco had a hard time describing. A few sea mews circled above the surface, their loud communication muffled by the ocean's sound.
Draco was almost taken aback by the beauty of the place, as he let his gaze wander along the horizon. There was nothing but the soft waves of the ocean and a few clouds where the surface met the sky.
He glanced towards Potter, who had bent down to touch something in the sand with the soft wind tugging gently at his already-unruly hair. It was quite cold, and Draco shivered slightly as the wind caught his hair, too.
"So, wedding pictures?" Jensen asked, pulling Draco out of his Potter-observation and back to reality.
"Precisely," Granger said hurriedly and retrieved a piece of parchment from her purse. "I suggest barefoot, even though it's a little cold. Roll your trousers up a few inches. And Harry, you need to change clothes."
She sounded more like McGonagall than a friend, in that moment, Draco thought. He knew better than to utter any of the snide remarks that immediately popped up in his head. Instead, he bent down to unlace his shoes, before placing them beside him with his socks neatly balled up inside one of them. While he rolled up his trousers slightly – to prevent them from getting sandy, not because Granger had suggested so, mind you – he watched Potter toeing off his own shoes in the exact careless way Potter always seemed to do things.
"So-," Jensen started once he came back from walking around on the beach, probably looking for the perfect place to take the perfect wedding picture. "Is that scar of his supposed to be showing, or are you going to cover that up?"
"I'm going to cast a permanent concealing charm," Granger said, snapping her head up as soon as Jensen uttered the word 'scar'. It seemed to Draco as if she had forgotten all about that particular matter. "It will just open up for unnecessary questions."
Potter winced as she placed the tip of her wand against the scar on his forehead. Draco watched them intently out of sheer curiosity, as Granger mumbled a few words and the famous lightning scar was suddenly nowhere to be seen.
Potter rubbed the place on his forehead where it once had been visible and grimaced slightly, as if it itched uncomfortably. Draco was glad that his Dark Mark had faded over time and was visible only in a certain light, looking more like a long-since-healed burn scar than what it once had been.
"Alright," Jensen said, and took the lens cover off the camera. He seemed to check the settings, as he turned the objective a couple of times, while he walked over to a certain spot in the outline of the beach. "I thought this would be a good spot. I will catch some of the ocean in the background and some of these amazing cliffs in the same shot. Perhaps people won't look as much on the two of you, if you have an amazing background like this."
Draco was not sure he liked the cynical tone in the photographer's voice. He sounded too much like him.
He glanced towards Potter, who looked just as nervous and insecure as Draco felt. At least he had changed into a decent pair of dress trousers and a white button-down shirt. Draco tried to remember how he had been able to survive the years in service of the Dark Lord, but somehow this seemed harder. And it did not make things better that Potter looked like he was made for the clothes he was wearing.
"Come on," Granger motioned to both of them to get over to the spot Jensen had pointed out. "We don't have all day. There are five more locations on my list."
"Fine," Draco snapped, and walked swiftly passed Potter and towards Jensen, who looked as if he was working hard to keep a straight face. "Let's get this over with, Potter."
"I thought his name was Malfoy," Jensen chuckled, and seemed oblivious to the glare Draco sent his way as he added: "I feel like this is going tremendously well."
Potter rolled his eyes, as he walked over to stand awkwardly next to Draco. The warmth from the other man's body heat reached Draco, even though they were several inches apart. Draco wondered silently how Granger could have ever thought that wedding photos of the two of them would make their charade more believable.
"Er," Potter said awkwardly and shoved his hands down the front pockets of his trousers as he swayed back and forth on his bare feet.
For the first time in their lives, Draco suspected, he knew exactly how Potter felt. Were they supposed to hold hands? Embrace each other? Smile happily at one another?
"Oh dear lord," Jensen muttered, and turned towards Granger, who had a disappointed look on her face. "You don't happen to have a couple of love potions in that purse of yours? No?"
She merely shook her head violently, and Draco had the feeling that she was fighting hard not to quote the laws about the banned love potions. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Jensen held up a hand to silence her.
"Let me handle this. I might not have worked with many married couples that seem to despise each other, but I know what the ones in love look like." He handed her the camera and stalked over towards Draco and Potter. Draco felt slightly worried about the determination in the photographer's steps.
"You," Jensen said and nodded towards Potter before taking his arm in a firm grasp and placed it around Draco's shoulders. "You hold him like this, yes? And you," he nodded towards Draco before shoving the two of them a lot closer together and almost painfully pulling Draco's arm around Potter's waist. "You cling to him like this is the happiest moment of your-" He suddenly seemed to forget what he was about to say, and it took Draco a few moments to realise that the photographer was looking at his other hand.
"You're not wearing rings," Jensen stated as a matter-of-factly, while turning towards Granger, as if she was the one responsible for this mistake.
"Oh Jesus Christ," Granger sighed with a huge amount of irritation in her voice. "Can't you two think of anything on your own? Good thing I went to pick up these from Kingsley, just in case you two did not get a pair on your own." She retrieved a small box from her purse and shoved it in Potter's hand. Draco was too busy with dealing with the fact that Potter had his arm around him to even care about their mistake. He was not feeling cold anymore, and his brain seemed to have disconnected from the rest of his body, because he did not even care about Potter's breath against his cheek, or the fact that he could feel the faint thuds of the other man's rapid heartbeats against his own chest.
Jensen put the ring on Draco's finger in a very business-like way. It felt almost demeaning, as if Draco was not capable of putting the ring on himself. When he glanced on the man next to him, who fiddled with his own ring with a concentrated look in his eyes beneath messy strands of hair, he thought that Jensen might have been right.
"Alright, where were we?" the photographer said as soon as the jewellery box was back in Granger's purse and the rings were on the right fingers. "Right. You just cling to him as if this is the happiest day of your life. Put your other hand here. Show off the ring. They all do that." Jensen placed Draco's left hand sprawled on the firm muscles of Potter's chest and pushed them again so they faced each other slightly, while still perfectly open to the camera.
For the first time, Draco was glad that someone was on his own level of bossy.
He glued his gaze on the shiny, platinum ring on his finger and tasteful patterns of small, sparkling diamonds. It was not a girl ring, he thought thankfully. It was, however, a very fancy men's ring. His father had once worn something similar.
"And now, you look in each other's eyes," Jensen said, while grabbing Draco's chin to tilt his head upwards, facing Potter's. "Just like that. I'm not going to pull the corners of your mouths into smiles, so please help me out with that, will you?"
Draco knew that he should be offended with a stranger rearranging his body in a way he was not very comfortable with, but as he suddenly realised that Potter's face was merely an inch away, with eyes boring in to Draco's as if their life depended on it, he forgot all about being offended.
In that moment, Draco decided to pretend as if he did not hate Potter and that this was not his former enemy, but only a handsome man holding him very close. And after he had set his mind to that, Draco could, indeed, agree with the Hogwarts girls that had gushed about how apparently remarkable Potter's eyes had been. Because they were.
And perhaps Potter had set his mind to something similar, because when Jensen retrieved his camera from Granger's hands, brought it to his eyes and shouted "Smile!" one more time, Potter actually did.
And even though Draco was too close to see it clearly, he was sure that it was a smile he had never seen on Potter's face before.
It was all going quite awkwardly smoothly, Draco thought. Jensen rearranged them, in the beginning by physically doing so, after a while they managed to follow his directions by themselves as he shouted them. Every new pose caused a few moments of awkwardness, just as both of them were reminded of what they were doing and with whom, but soon after they had their hands in the right places, heads tilted the right way and feet buried in the just right amount of sand, they somehow managed to keep their smiles genuine.
"I think we're ready for the kiss now!" Jensen shouted, just as Draco had been standing in front of Potter, the other man's warm arms around him with their fingers laced together and happy smiles on their faces.
"The what?" Draco blurted, and he could feel Potter go rigid behind him.
"The kiss," Jensen repeated, and arched an eyebrow in the very same fashion Draco used to do. "Have you ever seen wedding photos without a kiss?"
Draco had, actually. Most of his relatives did not kiss in their wedding pictures, but he was quite sure that they did not count as the happy couples he and Potter were supposed to portray either, so instead he said nothing.
"Remember that first pose?" Jensen continued as if he did not notice their resistance. He lowered his camera when neither Draco or Potter moved. "It was not a question. It was an indication for you two to get back in that pose, alright?"
Somehow, Draco was impressed by the man's authority, as he obliged and placed his hand on Potter's chest. Showing off that bloody ring again, as he was supposed to.
Potter's face was so close again, and this time it felt even more uncomfortable. It was one thing to smile as if he had swallowed the sun towards the other man, but kissing? It was Potter, after all. Full-of-himself Potter.
He could see the same hesitation on the other man's face. The same doubt. The same kind of thoughts flickering across those green irises.
For a second, Draco wondered if he was this easy to read to Potter, as Potter was to him. But before he could put his thoughts into a question, or even thinking about doing so, Jensen shouted "kiss!"
And Potter did.
It was not the chaste kiss Draco had expected. The one where Potter only gave him a quick peck to get things over and done with. This was something completely different. At first, Potter's lips crushed quite harshly against his, as if the other man had been rushing into the action to keep himself from backing out. And Draco found himself stiff from surprise, before Potter's lips softened and gently moved over his. He relaxed slightly, grasping the fabric of the other man's shirt with his fingers, hesitantly responding to the kiss. He could feel the strong magical power from Potter, causing his fingertips to tingle oddly in a way that he had never experienced before. It was as if their contact was charged with a defiant rush of magic that would have made Draco fling his arms around the other man, if he had not been so aware of that it was Potter.
And Merlin, he resented Potter for being a great kisser, too.
It felt like a hundred years passed, or perhaps just a fraction of a second, before Potter pulled away. He took half a step back and turned to Jensen, who lowered his camera.
"That okay?"
"Perfect," Jensen answered with an odd tone to his voice, Draco thought, while giving them thumbs up, before turning towards Granger, who seemed to be extremely busy with rummaging through her purse. "Time for the next location?"
This night is sparkling, don't you let it go
I'm wonder-struck, blushing all the way home
I'll spend forever wondering if you knew
I was enchanted to meet you
Enchanted – Taylor Swift
Chapter end notes: So, first chapter is up! Please let me know what you think :)