In the Cold Light of the Morning
by Ellena McKelles

.seven.

Harry awoke the following morning feeling sore but incredibly satisfied. He rolled over to find Draco snoring lightly beside him. He smiled slightly, surprised that the blonde had stayed with him all night. He looked so normal, asleep, hair falling haphazardly across his face.

"Stop staring, Potter, it's creepy."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You stayed the night."

Draco stretched. "I couldn't risk damaging your delicate Gryffindor sensibilities by letting you wake up alone."

"Really?" Harry sat up, looking genuinely impressed.

"Merlin, no." Draco huffed. "I… er… wanted to make sure that you're alright. The Calorem Stupri can be a fickle mistress."

"Calorem Stupri?" Harry leaned back into the pillows. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure. There's only three mild Lust Potions that would make your body feel hot like it did. Only one of them has coriander in them."

Harry sat up suddenly. "Do you have a copy of the Delicious Magic of Mixology?"

Draco nodded. "In the liquor cabinet in the front room…"

Harry slid out of bed, padding quickly out of the bedroom. Draco sighed, sliding out of the bed, picking up his pajamas along the way. He found Harry sitting in front of the liquor cabinet, book open in his lap.

"Have you ever heard of a Cinnamon Cal?"

"No, I cannot say that I have."

"When you mentioned Calorem Stupri it triggered something in my memory. The night we got married," Harry murmured. "the bartender brought me a Cinnamon Cal. I asked who it was from and he said an admirer. Then five minutes later, you sit down next to me."

"Purely by coincidence." Draco interjected. "I didn't send you that drink."

"Yes, coincidence." Harry said, waving a hand dismissively. "A Cinnamon Cal isn't a drink that you would normally order in a pub. It's a drink meant to be shared at home between lovers."

"Why?"

"Because it's made with cinnamon schnapps and Calorem Stupri." Harry closed the book matter-of-factly. "Except I remember that my drink was shimmery. The bartender told me that there was Goldschläger in it and that's what made it shimmery."

"Goldschläger?"

"A Swiss Muggle brand of cinnamon schnapps with gold flakes in it."

Realization dawned on Draco's face. "The gold would react with the Ashwinder eggs, creating memory loss."

"And that's why I can barely remember anything." Harry laughed hysterically. "I got roofied!"

Draco look puzzled. "Roofied?"

"It's slang for being dosed with Rohypnol." Harry sighed at Draco's continued confused state. "It's a Muggle date-rape drug."

"Harry, you shouldn't be so flippantly about this situation." Draco said sternly. "Someone was trying to hurt you that night. You're lucky it was me who sat down next to you."

Harry slumped down on the carpet. "Who would do such a thing? And so boldly."

"There are people who still sympathize with Voldemort's ideology. Capturing you would be their greatest accomplishment to their leader, even posthumously. I should know, I put them away on a semi-regular basis." Draco crossed his arms. "Do you want me to look into it for you?"

Harry shook his head, putting the book back in the liquor cabinet. "No, it's not necessary."

"But, you were drugged. You could have been assaulted or even killed."

"But instead I got saddled with you as a husband." Harry snorted.

"This isn't funny, Potter." Draco snapped. "Someone was trying to make an attempt on your life."

Harry shrugged. "When you've had a homicidal maniac chase you across Europe for most of your life, getting drugged in a pub is fairly low on the totem pole of what I consider dangerous." Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry rolled his eyes again. "Would it let your solicitor brain rest if I let you look into this?"

"Yes, I believe it would."

"Fine…" Harry sighed, standing. "look into it. I'm going to go shower.'"

Draco watched Harry's lithe form saunter down the hallway to his bedroom. It took large part of his self-control not to follow him down the hallway and take the dark-haired wizard in the shower. Despite being under the influence of a Lust Potion the two times they had been intimate, Draco had to admit that Harry Potter was his type. Most of the lovers he had taken in the past were built with the same small frame, dark hair and jewel-bright eyes. He shook his head, hoping the inappropriate thoughts tucked themselves back into his subconscious. He was not yet willing to come to terms with the fact that he may or may not have had a crush on Potter for years.

Stalking across the living room to his den, he plopped down behind his desk and hit the speed dial on his desk phone.

"Draco, darling! It's a bit early for you to be calling. Did you not enjoy your night with your husband?"

The phrase caused Draco to pause. "It was an eventful night."

"Do tell." She replied excitedly.

"That's not why I called you, Pans."

Pansy sighed. "You never call just chat anymore."

"You're the one who chose to be a fixer." Draco replied. "Besides I need some dirt on my husband."

He could practically hear the eye roll through the phone. "You two have been together not even a month and you're already looking for dirt?"

"Perhaps not dirt." Draco said slowly. "Just information on his former relationships."

"You want impossible information." Pansy snorted.

"It's not impossible." Draco snapped. "You're too good for it to be impossible."

"I'm glad you think so highly of my skills…" Pansy sighed. "I'll do this but you owe me. Big time. Like all expenses paid trip to the Maldives big."

There was a click and the call disconnected. Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair. He could think of at least ten people that wanted to harm Harry right off the top of his head. All of which were currently rotting in their cells at Azkaban but still had ties to the outside world. He raked a hand through his hair and headed back to the kitchen. He found Harry flitting about the kitchen, pans on the stove top sizzling loudly.

"Are you making breakfast?"

Harry turned to face him. "Um, yes."

Draco smirked. "You are aware that you are not really my wife."

Harry scowled. "I am nobody's wife."

Draco nodded solemnly. "But you are a bossy bottom."

Harry flushed scarlet. "I am not a bossy bottom." He turned back to the pan on the stove. "I wasn't in control myself."

"I'm sure you're not." Draco waved his hand. "Though I may never know what you're like when you're… How would you say? In control of your faculties."

"Do you… never mind…" Harry sighed and set a plate down in front of Draco. "Enjoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "A full English breakfast?"

"You have a very well stocked pantry and fridge."

"I shall have to tell Medina you approve of her shopping choices."

"Medina?"

"My housekeeper."

"Of course, you have a housekeeper."

Draco narrowed his gaze at Harry. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all." Harry replied, scooping eggs and sausages onto his own plate. "You're just a product of your upbringing."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You can dismiss my upbringing, but I was well cared for. You would have been brought up in a similar fashion had your parents survived."

"I highly doubt that." Harry plopped down across the table from the blonde.

"Why?" Draco asked. "Because your mother was raised by Muggles?"

"Well…"

"Hermione was raised by Muggles, look how well she's assimilated."

Harry looked up from his meal. "How so?"

"You don't remember her gung-ho attitude about freeing house elves in school, do you?"

"Vaguely…" Harry replied. "Everything is very vague during that time of my life."

"Understandable." Draco scraped the remains of his breakfast onto a slice of toast. "I would assume the little things would seem very vague when you have a homicidal maniac after you."

"You would be correct." Harry pushed his eggs around his plate.

Draco rose from his seat. "It must be nice to have some sort of normalcy."

"If you want to call constantly followed by the press 'normalcy'."

Draco snorted as he rinsed his dish. "Why do you think I have a flat in Muggle London?"

"You are followed by the press?"

"Son of a high profile Death Eater becomes a prominent solicitor for the Wizengamot." Draco sighed. "I'm perfect fodder for the tabloids. Not that they ever report on my successes in court."

"They only care about what your wearing, who your seen with—"

"Who I'm sticking my cock into." Draco finished.

"That's the only thing they really care about." Harry murmured.

"All the more reason to stay married to one another." Draco replied. "At least it'll give them nothing to report on if we're some boring married couple."

Harry watched as Draco rose from the table, placing the dirty dish in the sink. He hadn't expected for the blonde wizard to want to stay married. What he expected was for them to put on a farce for the next few months and then have a spectacular break up that would be fodder for the papers for weeks. Not the fact that the Malfoy wanted to remain as his husband. He quickly shoveled the rest of his breakfast onto a slice of toast and followed Draco to his office.