Never have I written a whole Harry Potter story, but I thought I'd have a crack at it. I hope I do this story justice. It's an amazing series, and I recommend both the stories and the movies. Srsly. JK Rowling is the epitome of badassery, and I bow to her writing skills. That is all.

This story takes place after the war

Draco had to have paced up and down the length of the beautiful pathway, leading to and from the observatory, located directly in the centre of their substantially-sized garden, ignoring his mother's cries for him to do otherwise. Blaise was feeling just as antsy, however he kept his composure, and sat in the chair, his left foot crossed bent over his knee, conveying a calm he truly did not feel. His only tell being the consistent shaking of his left foot, in time with his rapidly beating heart.

Waking up that morning, with nothing but empty sheets separating him and his blonde lover, Blaise couldn't restrain the colossal snarl that tore itself from his chest, startling the younger Slytherin out of his sleep, and vibrating through their floor of the mansion. They had searched throughout the tower, following her apt scent, only to come up empty, frustrating them both to no end.

Finally, they asked - read begged - the owners of the Manor for some help, and they simply smiled, and informed the boys of this impromptu 'tea' with their mate. This is where she would decide what would happen from now on. It was always up to her. Draco could move on and find someone else to be with; never someone as heartbreakingly perfect for him as her, but still, it could happen, and Blaise hadn't survived the last year and a half of his vampiric inheritance drinking the blood of elk. Of course he fed from humans - never enough to kill, only to sate himself and his internal hunger.

Neither men would find anyone who would complete them in such a harmonious way, and the knowledge that she was out in the world, just a hairsbreadth away could send them directly into St Mungo's; like an itch, never scratched, only brushed and therefore irritated more. It made Blaise's skin crawl to think of what his life would be without her, now that he's lain eyes on her, he would see no other in his life for him. She was it.

Draco was the more impulsive of the two; he would have no problem showing his love for her, physically sating her in everyway that he could with his body, and his unwillingness to share her with anyone outside of their triad, however the more emotional stuff, the 'love' and the 'caring' was something he had never dealt with properly before. Blaise, and now Evelyn, were the only ones who he had ever let sleep in his bed, and he didn't know how to show how much he loved her. Because he did. He knew he did. He could feel it in every heightened cell in his body; he practically vibrated with adoration for the young hybrid. But, how would he truly convince her of that?

He was in the middle of his 84th lap of the pathway, before he heard the petite footsteps pad down the stone stairway, rapidly approaching him and his family, and he felt his mouth dry up quickly, as though someone had forced invisible cotton wool into his mouth and watched him flounder for words. He sprinted back to his mother, and his lover - his father having business to deal with; the entire dreary ordeal of the Wizarding War still looming over their heads, like a gaudy guillotine, ready to slit their necks, like cattle being led to the slaughter.

Draco knew his father well, and he could handle his affairs with honour and pride, a way only a Malfoy could, of course, and they would come out of this on top, and still as wealthy as ever, even after the sizeable taxing they had experienced for their involvement in war. It was reparation for the dead, and honestly, Honestly, he was glad for it. He wasn't completely heartless; he didn't know what it was like to lose someone, and that didn't mean he was lining up to feel that kind of emotional distress.

He yelled, unable to control himself, "She's coming," and he noticed Blaise's body tense up, more so than he could have imagined. He was surprised Blaise wasn't bursting out of his finely tailored silk three-piece suit, the obsidian waistcoat complimenting his hair and skin very well. Draco had practically pawed through every article of clothing he owned, until he came across this - clean-cut, effective and dazzling on him, if he did say so himself. A simple pair of jet slacks, smart, shiny black shoes, and a pristine white button up suit, a tie noosed around his neck, and genuine dragon diamond cufflinks tucked in at his wrists. They glinted under the midday sun, and if you listened to the closely enough, you could practically hear the growling vibrating from the gems.

"Blaise.. Blaise, what if she doesn't like us?" Draco asked, hopelessly, while throwing himself in the seat beside him, and he glanced down at his Italian lover, the latter's eyes dark and guarded. Draco couldn't help but start rambling on, out of complete nervousness, and he could practically feel Blaise's annoyance ascend throughout his chatter.

"What if I say something, and she thinks I'm an idiot! Oh Merlin's knickers, I cant do this," he shot up and rubbed his now clammy palms against his trousers in an undignified, and very un-Malfoy-like way, and his mother chuckled into her dainty palm, while sipping her cup of green tea. He glared at her, not entirely serious, "It isn't funny, mother, this is serious."

She chuckled once more, before sobering up, and placing her smaller hand in his own, and stated, seriously, "You will do fine, Draco. She is a wonderful young lady, and she will see the good in you, no matter what."

Draco felt the invisible burning of the Dark Mark, reminding me of his past mistakes, and undermining any self-confidence he may have built up beforehand. What if when she sees it, she finds out the meaning behind it and turned him away because he was a monster? Because he's hurt people, and he did it all to save his pathetic life? Because he aided the most homicidal, psychotic wizard of their generation, all because he was a little bit scared? He knew that he was a disgusting human being, and someone as pure and perfect as Evelyn shouldn't b-

His inner torture was promptly cut off by Blaise's mouth working furiously against his own, one of Blaise's hands tucked deeply in Draco's hair and the other grasping Draco's face in his palm, while he practically sucked all of the negative energy out of the younger blonde's body, and he felt lighter, and all mushy and warm inside, and it made his scowl, internally, of course.

Why would he ruin such a beautiful moment?

How could he?

Eventually, after Draco had calmed down, Blaise pulled himself away from him, and gave him a very meaningful stare, before tugging him by his tie over to the three-seated sofa, beneath the white flittering canopy, and ordered, flatly, "Get it together, Malfoy. This is on both of us, right now, and you're not going to mess this up, because you're scared. You think I'm not? This girl is the most important person in his life, and this is the moment where she decides if she wants to be with us."

The Italian's glare became more intense then, and he stated, "Now, come on, because this is our first, and only, chance. She doesn't have to be with us, she can turn us away, but we have to convince her otherwise," and as he tugged Draco's shirt so it was presentable and fixed the blonde's hair so it didn't look at out-of-sorts, he added, "Now get your head in this."

He nodded once, assuring him that he wouldn't let him down, and relaxed into the seat, and turned his head towards the approaching footsteps.

She was outside.

It would only be a few moments before they would properly lay eyes on her, and they relished in it. The tense atmosphere, the sun beating down on them and the cooling charm his mother had cast on their conservatory swirled cool air around the area, still allowing for the odd stroke of heat to touch them, and remind them of what a beautiful summer day it was.

Yes, a beautiful one indeed.