Chapter 11
Draco remembered vividly the series of events which led him and Harry to transition from enemies to friends. It was two days after the War, and Draco saw Harry pacing amongst the rubble, examining the ruins with a melancholy look on his face. Draco had approached him to thank him for saving his life. Harry had responded by returning Draco's wand to him. The months that followed had been filled with tentative correspondence in the form of handwritten letters, and through them, Harry had convinced Draco to return to Hogwarts for Eighth Year. Through these, a friendship was formed.
Draco could also pinpoint the exact moment he fell head over heels in love with Harry. There had been signs beforehand, of course, like the fact that Draco started to notice the delicate softness in Harry's features, began to take note of the exact colour of his eyes and find it everywhere he looked, slowly realised that he was thinking of him far too often, and started laughing at all his crappy jokes. Not to mention the fact that he made an effort to get along with the Gryffindors and even started talking to some of them and hanging around them just to be near Harry.
But Draco knew for sure when he'd fallen for the idiot, and it hadn't been at the best of times. Harry and Draco had been sitting in the Gryffindor common room and sharing a companionable silence. Everyone else was at dinner but neither of them were feeling very hungry. Draco had just started reading a book when Dennis Creevey had come up to Harry and handed him a camera. The camera belonged to his brother, Colin, who had lost his life in the War. Dennis stated that Colin would have wanted Harry to have the camera, and Harry had accepted with a bewildered look on his face and plenty of expressions of thanks. Once Draco and Harry were alone again, Harry had bent his head over the camera and cried. Draco had an arm around him in an instant and held him as he grieved over the loss of all his friends and family and the people who were affected by the War. It was slightly odd because Harry wasn't really the type to cry, but Draco understood. He'd cried, too.
Somewhere in that hour of Harry just letting his tears fall onto Draco's shirt, Draco fell in love. Draco would later spend countless nights laying awake and thinking Harry would never feel the same way.
About two months later, Harry and Draco had taken a walk around Muggle London. Eighth Years were barely bound by the rules of Hogwarts and were allowed to do as they pleased when they didn't have classes. Some of them even had night jobs and left the castle directly after the school day. Harry had taken Draco to the Muggle parts of London a few times and showed Draco around. Draco loved it there. The lights were bright with electricity, something Draco had never encountered before, and all the Muggles were friendly and didn't care about the snake tattoo on Draco's left forearm.
They'd been walking for about an hour and stopped at a bench to rest. The bench had been unremarkable - made of wood, slightly creaky, altogether not much to look at. What had happened on it was what made it memorable.
Draco could still recall the way Harry had turned to him, nervousness playing in those sparkling green eyes he'd come to love and betraying the laughter he forced out of his throat when Draco remarked that he was especially on edge tonight. Harry was sitting incredibly close and their shoulders were pressed together, which did nothing for the constant acceleration of Draco's pulse rate. Harry had reached out and taken Draco's hand, and Draco noticed that Harry's fingers were trembling, and his own had just started to shake. Then Harry leaned in and Draco felt a soft press of lips against his own. If there was a feeling that represented utter bliss, Draco supposed it would have to be that sweet, tender, nervous little kiss that had been their first.
Their first date had been at Hogsmeade. Harry had presented Draco with a gorgeous red rose, which was Draco's favourite flower, and a gentle kiss. They'd gone for a long walk, ignoring all the stares they received at being hand-in-hand, and had spent about an hour in Honeydukes. The news that they were dating hit the papers the next morning. Some horrible things had been said about Draco, and he'd spent three days avoiding Harry, thinking that he was just being a burden and an embarrassment to the Golden Boy. Thankfully, Harry had eventually found him and snogged some sense into him.
Draco also recalled the first time they tried to have sex. Neither had ever done anything like that before, and they'd ended up making a mess with the lube and completely failing to do anything, which resulted in a lot of laughter and eventually just being content to fall asleep in each others arms. When they actually did have sex a week later, though, Draco had never felt more complete in his entire life. It was probably around then that he'd realised he was completely and utterly screwed and that Harry was going to be the absolute death of him. He was fine with that; he couldn't think of a better way to die.
"Pretty!" Teddy exclaimed suddenly, jogging Draco out of his reminiscing. He glanced up and saw Teddy pointing excitedly at a bunch of brightly decorated trees a few metres away. They were hung with multi-coloured neon lights. Draco couldn't help appreciating them. Muggles had some pretty good things going, really.
Just a few feet ahead of them, Draco spotted the good old bench where he and Harry had shared their first kiss, a precursor to many others. "Look," he said, grabbing Harry's hand and pointing to it. Harry looked over and smiled, nodding fondly. "Let's have a seat," Draco went on, ushering Harry towards it. Harry complied and sat down the lightly snow-dusted surface, grinning when Draco did the same. Andromeda and Teddy continued to pace through the snow, mostly in a circle in front of the bench, Teddy kicking up some of it as he went along.
Draco's heart was palpitating wildly. He knew there was no reason for him to get nervous about this. Harry already wanted to marry him, and it was irrational to think that he wouldn't like what Draco was about to do. "Harry," Draco said.
"Yes?"
"Remember once we had that long debate about putting ourselves in each others shoes?"
Harry frowned. Draco knew it wasn't a particularly good memory for either of them, as the argument had lasted a week and had been one of their only serious fights. "Yeah..."
"I hope you know I've been trying to do exactly that ever since then," Draco continued. "And I'm going to do that right now. Of course, this isn't exactly the same, because I already know what your answer will be, but I'm still pissed off because you proposed first, and I clearly know the proper way to do this, so..." He got off the bench and turned to face Harry.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his eyes comically wide.
Draco dropped down on one knee and pulled out a red rose identical to the one Harry had given him on their first date. "Harry Potter," Draco began, carefully gauging Harry's reaction. A few Muggles were watching silently from a distance. "I know you've already proposed, and I know I've already said yes, but regardless, would you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me, and make me the happiest man in the world?"
Harry just sat there, staring openly at Draco, for what seemed like forever. Draco's heart was thudding against his ribs, and several Muggles now were gathering nearby and watching. How on earth had Harry managed to work up the courage to do this in the first place?
And then, suddenly, Harry launched himself from his seat on the bench and tackled Draco to the snow, crushing his lips against Draco's. Draco smiled in relief, releasing his grip on the rose in favour of tangling his fingers in Harry's hair.
Applause and cheers began to erupt from the people surrounding them, watching. He could hear Teddy saying something along the lines of "gross" (cooties and such things still being very much present in his brain) and Andromeda laughing as she snapped pictures of them with Harry's camera, but he didn't really pay much attention to anything else going on at the moment. He was completely content to be lost in the feel of snow soaking into the back of his coat (which he'd get mad at Harry for later, of course) and the taste and feel and experience of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Ruined His Life...In The Best Way Possible.
To Be Continued...
