Word Count: 1441

Genre: Humour, romance

Prompts: Flowers, baking

Summary: In which Draco is not as good at hiding his boyfriend from his mother as he thought he was.

'Fuck's sake, have you ever even baked a cake before, Potter?'

'We've been dating for months, Draco, just call me—'

'Shhhh!' Draco pressed a floured forefinger to his curled lips as Harry quickly silenced himself. He had clearly forgotten that, as long as the Malfoys were concerned, he and Draco had a newly-formed friendship. They definitely did not need to know about the excessive sex they had in secret or the awfully public displays of affection in the hallways of Hogwarts. Everybody knew but them.

'I—sorry, it's hard to—er—you know—'

'I know, P—Harry,' Harry's name rolled off Draco's tongue very unnaturally. It seemed hard for him to get used to that, too, even if it had been months. His face flushed, and suddenly all joy emptied out of it. Harry brought a hand up to his jaw, pressing a soft kiss there and on his lips.

'Will you tell them?' Harry's green eyes wilted like a flower. It was a pained question, every syllable strained as they fell from his mouth like a dead petal.

It was also, undoubtedly, a strange question to ask considering they were baking in the Malfoy Manor already, and making a mess of it in the process. The prospect of at least being old enough to clean it all up with magic was the only good part of it.

Draco frowned. If he was being honest, telling his parents about Harry was the last thing he wanted to do. He could never do it without being tortured, or worse, forbidden from seeing Harry altogether; that was permanent torture.

'I don't—I don't want—'

'You don't want to.' Harry stated. Fear enveloped his lifeless stem of a body. Draco rubbed at his arms as he folded them and scraped off leftover flour on his face with a flat palm.

'It's not that . . . you just—you know that—Pot—Harry . . .'

'I know, Draco,' Harry kissed him again. Silently, Draco wished he'd kiss him forever. He'd never felt so pathetic. 'It's okay if you don't . . . for now, I s'pose.'

Draco's eyes lit up. 'For now?' Harry sighed.

'Well, what—what about when I want you to marry me?' He murmured. 'Your family would never let me.' But after the first sentence, Draco had gone deaf to any other word than the ones echoing in his head. He swallowed deeply.

'Why would you want to marry me?'

Harry's hands fumbled about around Draco, not sure of where to put them as he peppered kissed everywhere and anywhere, over his Dark Mark, over his cheeks and lips and forehead and neck. He hugged him and he held his hands but knew that, no matter what he did in trade for the words that failed him, Draco would not understand—even if he did explain with words.

'I think the real question is: why wouldn't you?' The voice was chilling but calm. Recognisable. Both of their hearts skipped several beats. Draco spun around, his hands still latched around Harry. His mother, Narcissa, had just come home early—from what, neither of them seemed to care.

Even more shockingly so, she continued talking as if the scene before her didn't shock her at all. 'Your father will be home soon, so I'd get cleaned up and take Potter home.' Draco thought he may have passed out right there and then.

'Mother, I can—'

'Explain? Oh Draco, when have you ever been talented at that?' She chuckled coldly. 'I'll let your boyfriend help you out.' Draco and Harry stared blankly at each other. They saw no reason to lie, not now, not to Draco's mother. It would only get worse from there if they did.

'Well, er, we've been dating for a little while,' Harry muttered. 'and I'm sorry we didn't—I didn't tell you—you must understand this isn't Draco's fault, so don't punish him, please, you can hurt me all you like—'

'What makes you think I'll waste my energy?' She sighed. 'I've expected this. Draco never really stopped talking about you when he started.' Draco blushed a furious red. He wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed now or still fearful. Harry's lips cracked into a scared smile.

'What d'you mean?' He encouraged. If it was appropriate to facepalm, Draco would have.

Narcissa scoffed heartily. '"Oh, Mother, if only you'd seen his stupid eyes, they're so green that they make me sick, I wonder if he even knows what a comb is when it comes to his hair . . . I could kill him, Mother, I have to see his ugly face every day, it's absolute torture . . ." and, when I mocked him for possibly fancying you, he'd say, "That's revolting, how could I ever fancy such a foul twat?" and, quite expectedly, I'd hear him whispering to Dobby about how much he adored you in his bedroom when he cleaned it.'

Harry's mouth fell open. Draco wanted to slam it shut.

'No . . .' he murmured in disbelief.

'Oh, it gets worse,' Narcissa continued.

'That's enough, Mother,' Draco's throat had suddenly gone very dry. His chest was hammering and his body numbed. His mother pretended as though she couldn't hear him.

'Lucius would always tell me how tiring it was to hear about you when they went out . . . "Potter has this . . . Potter has that . . . he could never afford this . . . did you know that Potter—"'

'Mother!' Draco repeated furiously. Harry started, gazing his boyfriend's crimson face. 'I—he doesn't have to know—'

'Well, if you plan on marrying him, Draco—'

'You'd let me?' said Harry in very nearly a hopeful squeak. Narcissa bit her lip thoughtfully, her icy eyes landing on the shorter boy.

'Now, you see, there's the problem,' she muttered. 'Not only are you a half-blood, but you're also a boy.' Considering all the things he'd done, Draco thought Harry deserved more of a title than simply a "boy". 'I can cope with the half-blood part—nearly. But last time I checked, two men can't make a child.'

'So?' snapped Draco indifferently. 'Your only redeeming quality is that you love me, and wouldn't you want your greatest love to be happy?' Narcissa shot her son a grave glance.

'That is all I want,' She murmured reluctantly. She no longer had the excuse that Voldemort would disapprove since he was dead. She had no reason but her unadulterated loathing for the concept of the disruption of a pure bloodline. 'But I did not raise you to bear no heir.'

'We can adopt,' Harry cut in sheepishly. 'I know it's—it's not the same, sure, but . . . erm . . . or a surrogate!' He offered. Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

'I beg your pardon?' She spat, unknowing to whatever Muggle idea was a surrogate. Even Draco blinked blankly at his boyfriend—he'd explained it to him before, of course. He just had no idea how Harry planned to explain that to his extremely traditional mother.

'It's—well—it's where a woman agrees to have the child for you . . . wait, no, it's like—where you—'

'They take your sperm, put it inside another woman and she gives birth to your child. Capisce?' Draco explained irritably, his face now fading back into its normal pallid shade. Narcissa nodded slowly.

'So if this woman was a pure-blood—'

'Yes, the child will be a pure-blood. Only, Harry and I will be the parents. The woman will be irrelevant afterwards.'

Narcissa paused, nonplussed. 'Then again, I hardly imagine anyone will attend your wedding if—'

'That's fine. I think Pansy and Hermione would love to come—so would the entire Weasley family. Some others might too, like Blaise, maybe . . .' Harry listed on his fingers.

'The Parkinsons!' Narcissa said with surprise. 'Pansy is—?'

'Gay? Yes. Just as gay as me—and dating a Muggle-born witch.' said Draco coolly. 'Oh, and Father is also probably another worry on your mind, right? I'm happy to tell you that I don't care. I don't care if he attends, I don't care if he hates me, I don't care if none of his or your money goes to me when he dies. I don't.' Every word leaving his mouth shocked everyone in the room, including himself.

Narcissa scoffed.

'All this for Harry Potter?'

Draco grinned at Harry. Harry grinned back.

'Yes.'