The two men stand in the meadow where they met again at dawn, with only Jaqueline, a trunk, and Harry's broom for company. There are many tearful goodbyes from Draco to Jaqueline, even though they'll be back as soon as they've seen everyone. She beckons to Harry just as they get ready to go.

"Drake is precious, no?" she asks Harry, eyes firm and unwavering on his. "Do not hurt him. But do not be afraid to touch him. It was good to meet you, Harry Potter."

Harry shakes her hand gently, taking her words and storing them away for future perusal. With that, Jaqueline deposits a quick kiss on his cheek and one on both of Draco's. She then turns and walks away, receding into the dawn at Chanson Priar. Draco heaves a soft sigh.

"Come on, it's time to go."

He loops a hand through Harry's elbow as they walk farther into the chest-high grasses, leaving quite a large dent where Draco's trunk is dragging behind them. When they've gone down the dip in the hill so the town is no longer visible, Harry turns to Draco.

"Are you ready?"

"Only if you are," says Draco, searching his face. They've talked long and hard about this. But Harry knows just as well as Draco does that they have to go back. There's a house and a sick Arthur Weasley and Hermione and Ron and the Ministry and the Press, all wondering where Harry Potter is.

Harry lays down his broom and gestures to the ground for a moment, trying to allow himself just one more moment. Draco watches him as he sits down and closes his eyes, tilting his head so the sun catches his face through the grass. His eyes are drawing away again, like he had when he dropped into the meadow. He doesn't think this is a good thing for Harry at all. But they do have to go. And at least they'll have each other, always. Harry vowed never to ever be separated from Draco when they were back in London, and Draco will hold him to it. He's grown accustomed to being alone and peaceful. The city is anything but.

Draco gets down on his knees, pressing his hands to Harry's knobbly kneecaps. The other man opens his eyes.

"I love you, you know," says Draco, leaning into Harry's face, catching those beautiful green eyes. They light up again. The former Slytherin smiles. He leans farther forward so their lips are a hairsbreadth apart. "And I think it's time the world knew, hmm?" he purrs. He can almost feel Harry smile in the minimalistic space between their mouths.

"Yeah, it's time," says Harry, "cos I love you too."

They share a long, deep kiss, coloured with the golden of the grass and the red of the dawn. Draco winds his hands into Harry's messy black hair, breathing desperately, greedily sliding his tongue to Harry's. The other man responds enthusiastically, knowing there will be precious few moments ahead for this. His hands find their way to Draco's chest. Draco gasps, digging his palms onto Harry's thighs. And then things just get really warm.

They're distinctly tattered a few minutes later when Draco pulls away, straightening his shirt from where it's come untucked. "We should, we should go," he says unsteadily, running his thumb over his lower lip where it's gone swollen.

"Yeah," says Harry, and his voice is husky with the wanting. Grimmauld Place seems too far away. The hotel they're going to seems too far away. Draco smiles, depositing another kiss on Harry's lips, before crawling to his feet in a way that makes Harry just want to pull him down again. But no, no- they do have to go.

Harry shrinks Draco's trunk, tucking it into his pocket. His Firebolt is now ages behind the broom technology, and he only rides it on special occasions, but he's glad he's brought it here. He thinks Sirius would approve of the Draco he's come to know intimately. Harry mounts up.

Draco looks with trepidation at the broom. It's been ages since he's flown, and he's never in his life flown double.

"Why don't we just Apparate?" he asks. Harry sighs- not angrily but with the sort of long-suffering air.

"I've been blocked as of a few months ago. I kept Apparating out of press conferences, remember?"

Draco laughs and mounts behind Harry, gripping at the broom. Harry turns around, eyeing the blonde.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"We're flying, aren't we?"

Harry sighs good-naturedly, detaching the other man's hands from the broom and instead pulling them so they're wrapped around his waist, as he's seen Muggle bikers do. Abruptly Draco's legs are fitted up to his- his whole body is pressed to Harry's. It's not a new experience, but in the daylight it gives him even more of a jolt. He thinks briefly before he kicks off and starts heading in the direction of London that he's going to have to take Draco flying more often.

S S S S S S S S S S

When they touch down in the backyard of the Burrow a week and a day later, they're both wobbly-kneed, and Draco's drowsing against Harry's back. They both more or less fall off of the broom, tired and cold and very, very ready for bed.

"DRACO!" shrieks Hermione, whipping off her apron and flinging it onto a hedge as she races to one of her best friends. Ron follows at a slower rate, trying to hold his own fiancé back. Draco smiles and opens his arms for the woman he owes so much to. She barrels into his chest, knocking him flat onto his back.

Then, without preamble, both of them burst into tears.

When their respective lovers get them to their feet and into the kitchen, they start to sober, still propped against each other as they babble out accounts of the two years they spent apart. Ron and Harry are left to get out the food Hermione's feverishly been preparing for three days in Mrs. Weasley's absence (she's on a trip with Arthur at Bill and Fleur's, as Harry finds out). There's loads of it, but all four friends settle for sandwiches, leaving the real feasts till later. Draco and Hermione are basically joined at the hip, catching up without any room for either of their men. So, said men both crack open a butterbeer and go out to the back steps to do some catching up of their own.

"So where was he?" asks Ron. Harry shrugs.

"You know my French is bloody terrible, but he was in this little village, right- you can't even find the place unless you have a native guide. He'd been living there ever since, just alone."

"Merlin's socks, he really ran, didn't he?" asks Ron wonderingly, and Harry shrugs.

"He felt he did have to get away. And anyway, his mother did save my life. So it wasn't in vain, yeah?"

"Tell him that," says Ron. Both men drink their butterbeer in silence for a few moments before Harry decides that yes, okay, he doesn't know how comfortable Ron will be with it but he needs to tell him.

"We're, er… We're getting married. As soon as we can get it together. I'd, I'd like for you to be my best man."

Ron's eyes goggle out of his head. "You don't mean it?"

Harry sets down his beer and gives him a bit of a look.

"Well, yeah, I love him- why shouldn't we-"

"No! I mean, about the best man. Don't you reckon I'll knock something over or something?"

And Harry laughs at the prime example of his best friend being his best friend and assures him there's nobody else in the world he wants. When they hear a little shriek from inside, they know it's okay to go back.

"Must've shocked the hell out of Hermione," Ron says, laughing a bit as they walk in to find their fiancés laughing hysterically, Hermione in tears again and Draco hugging her.

It's ages before they get to bed, Draco eventually just drooping so much that Harry politely but firmly excuses them both to bed. Ron actually has to carry Hermione to his old room (even though they have a place of their own, they're taking care of the house). Harry considers doing the same, but Draco seems content to drape his long arms over the shorter man's shoulders, leaning heavily on him as they go to Ginny's old room- the only one that's still clean. Draco's trunk actually takes up most of the space in the room, and it smells like girl, but it has a bed which they collapse onto gratefully, peeling off their boots in tandem.

It's a double, but they curl into each other as if there's no space at all. Sleepily Draco tugs at Harry's shirt, pulling him closer. He clasps his hands to Harry's and drops off without a single word.

When Harry falls asleep a few minutes later, it's to the rhythm of Draco's breathing.

S S S S S S S S

The next morning dawns bright and early, but Draco and Harry don't rouse themselves from bed until almost noon. Draco dresses in some of his "good" clothes while Harry just dresses in his now-traditional red Henley and jeans. Both men take a few moments to lean into one another like they did on the broom and just breathe, relaxing after days of tense travel. Of course, the days ahead once the press finds out are going to be- well- loud. But for now, they can maybe catch up a bit to themselves.

Harry shows Draco down the staircases he knows so well. The blond is looking around as if he doesn't even know how the house is standing of its own accord, and Harry laughs watching him. It's only when Draco trails a hand over the wall as if he can't believe it stays up that Harry gives in to the overwhelming urge to snog him senseless.

"Hngh!" says Draco as he finds himself pressed against the wall, with Harry's tongue down his throat. Harry smiles and presses harder, bringing the scent of his boyfriend closer, closer- the smell of rain and sweet meadow grass and just a little bit of musky sandalwood. Draco goes liquid at his touch, slipping his hands under his shirt without further hesitation. And then- God, Harry can't believe it, Draco hums, high and breathy, and it's definitely not the time to go back to bed but that's all Harry wants to do.

Draco pushes Harry just a little bit so he can get up from where he's crushed up against the wall. He smooths his hair and drops another deep kiss onto his fiancé, then hisses, "Harry, you can't do that."

"Why?" says Harry, confusion evident on his face. "Did you not like-"

"No, no nonono," says Draco hastily, wrapping his arms around the other man, twining his hands in his hair. "I- shit, Harry, do you want me to have a boner at breakfast?"

"Wh- oh. Oh."

Draco presses just a little bit, and he's only half-hard, but yeah, that-

"We have to go eat now," says Draco firmly, pulling away with difficulty. "The night is always there anyway."

"But I want it now," whines Harry. He lets his voice drop about half an octave before leaning forward to whisper in his fiance's ear. "I want you."

Draco's breath hitches. It's not like they're not sexually active- far from it. They're about as touchy-feely as they can get. But- they've not actually- done it. And Harry's never talked like that before except when they're alone and in bed and Draco, yeah, okay, he really has to move away now, or he never will.

"Breakfast," says Draco firmly, but inside his stomach is filled with butterflies and oh god, it was true. He does want him. He wants him badly. But-

"Fine, breakfast."

S S S S S S S S S S S S

YOU GUYS I AM SO SORRY. I AM SO SO SORRY. A lot of stuff came up and I only had this half done and I just couldn't post it in the condition it was in. I promise I'll do better in the future, and thanks for sticking with me. I'm still not JKR.

Love,

QueenAzule