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Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count: 2928

Practically Married

Harry groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He tried to open his eyes only to find that the room was filled with unholy light, and he noped straight out of that idea.

Merlin, what the hell had he been drinking last night?

A little more tentatively, he opened his eyes, keeping his arm up to block the worst of the sun.

"There's a hangover potion on the table beside you," a voice said from above him, and he startled, wincing when the movement jarred his aching head.

"Thanks," he muttered, reaching blindly for the vial. There was a snort, and then the bed beneath him shifted until the vial was pressed firmly into his hand.

He unstoppered it and downed the contents in one before he closed his eyes and lay perfectly still so he didn't just vomit the potion back up before it could work.

Finally, his stomach settled, and the headache faded to a more manageable level, and Harry managed to open his eyes fully without feeling like he was about to be blinded.

Sat up on the bed beside him, Draco watched him with amusement. He was less perfect than he usually was, his platinum hair messy, his clothes sleep-rumpled.

Harry couldn't help but think it was a good look on him.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is there a wedding band on my finger?"

Draco's lips tilted up. "That's a very good question. I was kind of hoping you'd have an answer to it, since I'm wearing a matching one."

Harry blinked and then frowned. "We've turned into a walking cliche. Oh god, what did we do?"

…

"It's very, uh, lively," Draco said, as they walked down the strip with the rest of the group, eyes flitting this way and that as they tried to take in their surroundings.

Harry snorted. He'd never been to Vegas before, but he'd visited various places in America and he knew that they tended to be a little more… excessive than most British people would be used to.

"That's one word for it," he agreed.

"Oh Merlin's underpants, what is that woman wearing?" Draco asked, pointing across the road.

Harry glanced and a laugh was startled from him. The woman looked like she was wearing a set of Dumbledore's most extravagant robes—if those robes had been shredded first by a Griffin.

"I want to say Muggle fashion, but I'm not actually sure if it is or if she's just mildly insane."

"Mildly?"

"Oi! Harry, Draco, keep up! We don't want to lose you in this crowd."

"I think I'd quite like to be lost, actually," Draco muttered, though he didn't protest when Harry pushed him forward gently with a hand at the small of his back. "Why did I let you talk me into this, again?"

"You're literally the best man," Harry pointed out, laughing. "It's your job to be here."

"But this was your idea," Draco pointed out. "Therefore, I get to blame you when it all goes to shit."

Harry nodded. "Fair. I'll accept the blame and pay the fines when someone gets arrested."

…

"I don't know what we did, but it's your fault," Draco said, getting up off the bed. "We should get ready and go see if anyone else knows why we're married."

Harry blanched. "Married? We did not get married."

"We're in Vegas—the home of the drunk marriage, according to you—and we're wearing wedding rings. You have a better explanation?"

"I… do not. But give me a minute and I will find one."

Draco snorted. "Come on, Potter, shift your ass. We need copious amounts of coffee if we're ever going to solve this."

"Pensieve might help," Harry pointed out.

"Carry one in your suitcase, do you?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry pushed himself up slowly, testing his stomach cautiously. "Coffee," he muttered. "Coffee was a good idea."

"Of course it was; it was my idea. In future, we're only ever following my ideas."

"We'd be doomed."

"Wedding rings, Potter."

"Okay, so maybe neither of us should be allowed to adult."

"But coffee."

Harry nodded. "Coffee is good."

…

"Did you know this was a strip club?" Draco asked, sitting back on the plush bench.

Harry shook his head. "I did not. We probably should have known that we'd end up in at least one though."

"It could have been a less trashy one," Draco pointed out, wrinkling his nose when the waitress leant low over the table as she delivered a round of shots. "Or you know, a male one, given that eighty percent of us are gay."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find one at some point," Harry said, picking up two shots. He handed one to Draco as the others handed around the other ones. "To a good night?"

"A good night!"

The shots were poured down their throats, and Harry winced at the taste.

"Okay, we need to find different shots, that's grim. I'd rather drink Ogdens."

Draco shook his head. "I've turned you into a drink snob."

"You really have," Harry agreed. He took a sip of his drink—Johnny Walker Black—and smiled. "But it was so worth it."

Draco lifted his own and they clinked their glasses together.

"We're gonna get Seamus a lapdance," George said, leaning over. "Either of you want one?"

Draco grimaced. "I think I'm good."

"I'll pass," Harry agreed. "And George?"

"Hmm?"

"Cast a protection charm on his clothes before it starts. Merlin only knows what goes on in here."

"Aye aye, Capitan," George saluted with a grin. "You know, I'm making it my job tonight to get you so pissed, you forget how to be responsible."

"That's not a good life goal," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Someone has to be responsible."

"We're in Vegas," George said. "Responsibility is banned."

"That's not gonna end well," Draco lamented.

…

"It's George's fault," Harry said, accepting the coffee from Draco. Thankfully, there was a coffee stand next door to their hotel, and the large, heavily caffeinated drink smelled perfect. "He decided to make it his mission to stop me from being responsible."

"Did he force feed you the drinks?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Harry replied with a grin. "I can't remember."

"I'm getting flashes," Draco admitted. "That first club we went to—"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "The strip club?"

"That's the one. Grim doesn't even begin to describe that place but—"

"The shots were cheap," Harry said, and Draco nodded.

"Yeah. The shots were cheap."

…

"I think that I should get some water," Harry said, shifting in his seat. They were seven shots in and he knew as soon as he hit fresh air, he was going to be feeling them.

Draco nodded, but George wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. "No water allowed! Let's goooooo!"

"George!" Harry protested as he was pulled up from his seat. He barely managed to close his fingers around Draco's wrist so he wasn't lost in the crowd before he was pulled from the booth and into the crowd.

As soon as they hit the street, Harry stumbled.

Behind him, Draco chuckled and he turned to glare at the blond. Draco just rolled his eyes and linked their arms together as they followed their friends to the next club.

"This is going to end very badly," Harry muttered, as they stepped into the next club.

"At least this place doesn't have strippers," Draco pointed out. "Besides, I won't let anyone kill you. Or kidnap you."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Potter. You bring me good coffee in the mornings; I won't let anyone ruin that."

"Ah, glad I hold value in your life," Harry replied dryly.

Draco shrugged. "Don't underestimate how much I love coffee."

…

"Did you really promise to not let anyone kill me just because I bring you coffee?"

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully. "That sounds pretty accurate, to be honest, so probably."

"Wonderful."

Harry used the key card to open the door to the suite, and was pleased to find the living area no longer as empty as it had been when they'd first gotten up. George looked up to see them and grinned cheerfully.

"Morning, boys!"

"This is all your fault," Harry said, slumping down on the sofa. "Everyone else still sleeping?"

George nodded. "They are. What's my fault?"

Harry held his hand up to show George the ring. George stared for a long moment and then he set off in peals of laughter.

"Of course you find this funny," Draco huffed, sitting on the arm of the sofa. Harry leant into him, letting his head rest against Draco's thigh.

Draco dropped a hand into his messy hair and started absently playing with the strands.

"I mean," George said when he'd finally finished laughing, "you two have been practically married for months anyway."

Harry frowned. "We're not even dating."

….

"Did somebody call for the police?"

Harry turned his head and frowned. "No, we're good. Thanks, officer," he replied.

"Harry, you dumbass, he's a stripper," Blaise called, shaking his head. "Over here, good sir. Show my hubby-to-be a good time."

He gestured to Theo and the 'officer' grinned sinfully. Harry's eyebrows rose slightly. "Well then."

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "You want another drink? I'm heading to the bar."

"I'll come with you," Harry said. "I want water."

"I thought you'd been banned."

"Bold of you to think I'm ever gonna do as I'm told."

Nobody noticed them leaving their seats, all eyes drawn to the stripper currently gyrating up against Theo.

"What's on your mind, handsome?"

Harry blinked at the woman who'd just pressed herself up against his side and then gently shook her off him.

"Water. Water is on my mind."

Draco snorted and pulled Harry in the direction of the bar. "Even when you're not at home and famous, you can't keep them off you."

Harry grimaced. "That's not a good thing, Draco."

"Most people would consider it good."

"I'm not most people."

"Very true," Draco agreed. "Two Johnny Walker Blacks, please," he added to the bar man. "And a bottle of water, the colder the better."

"My hero," Harry murmured, grinning.

"Drink it here. I'm not dealing with any form of Weasley-given retribution because I let you have water."

"Yeah, that could be dangerous," Harry agreed.

…

"Morning," Theo greeted, wandering into the living area of the suite. He looked disgustingly refreshed, and Harry grimaced at him.

"How are you so… perky?" he demanded.

Theo grinned. "I don't get hangovers."

"Lucky bastard," Draco muttered. "But also, ner ner, we beat you down the aisle."

Theo stopped and blinked, his eyes automatically moving to their left hands. "You didn't."

"Apparently, we did. Not that either of us remember a single thing about it."

When Theo started laughing, Harry turned his head and pressed it harder against Draco's thigh. "Our friends are assholes."

Draco shrugged. "When you're right, you're right."

…

"Harry?"

Harry turned his head to find that Ron had made his way over. His eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks were rosy, and Harry was very glad that Hermione couldn't see the way he was swaying, because she'd probably blame Harry for it.

"S'up, Ron?" he asked, wincing at his lack of articulation.

"Your boy is being felt up on the dancefloor, you should go help him escape."

"My boy?"

"Draco, dumbass." Ron replied. It was ruined by the burp that followed.

"Charming. Also, Draco isn't mine, and he can handle himself."

"He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor," Ron said, laughing. "You should go save him. You're the hero, right?"

"Against Dark Lords, yes," Harry agreed. "Against drunk, handsy people? Not so much."

"Just go save him, we're heading to the next bar in a minute anyway."

Harry sighed but nodded and made his way out to the dancefloor in the direction Ron had pointed. He found Draco quite quickly, and the look of relief in his eyes when he spotted Harry made him feel a little guilty that he hadn't wanted to come and collect him.

"We're heading out in a sec," he shouted over the music, reaching for Draco's hand.

Draco clutched at him desperately, and Harry pulled him through the crowd, batting away the hands that tried to reach for them both.

"Thank you," Draco murmured, when they were almost back to the table. "I'd only gone to find a bathroom."

"I wondered where you were," Harry admitted. "But then I didn't know if you'd been a really long time or if I was just… not paying attention."

Draco laughed. "We're not letting you drink again. I need you to be faster with the saving."

"Next time just take me with you," Harry replied. "Problem solved."

"You'll protect me?"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "When do I not?"

…

One by one, the rest of the stag party joined them in various states of being hungover, Ron the last to arrive. He looked awful, and Harry chuckled at the state of him.

"What did we drink last night?" the redhead complained, lying down on the floor when he realised the only available seat was a stool that he'd have to balance on if he sat on it.

"Too much," Harry muttered.

"Why are you wearing a ring?" Ron asked, squinting at Harry's hand.

"Draco and I got married."

"Right. That makes sense… Wait. YOU DID WHAT?"

"If you keep shouting, I'll curse your hair to be pink for the rest of your life," Draco threatened. Hangover potions could only do so much after all, and it spoke to the state of most of those present that nobody even slightly protested Draco's threat.

"Why would you do that?" Ron moaned, rolling onto his back. "You know Hermione and my mum are going to blame me for this right? They're going to be so mad you eloped."

"Wait, you're mad because they'll be mad we didn't have a wedding?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"Well, yeah. You two are practically already married."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Harry complained.

…

"We… should get married," Harry announced, as they walked down the road towards the hotel.

Well. To call it walking was being generous. Stumbled was a more apt description as the group made their way back. Harry clung to Draco, who seemed just a little less likely to fall over than he himself was.

That was his story and he was sticking to it, thank you very much.

"Potter, you don't want to marry me," Draco said, shaking his head. "Then there would be two Healer Malfoys and that would just be confusing."

"I never said I wanted your name," Harry rebutted. "Who said I'd be taking your name anyway? Draco Potter sounds hot."

"No. No, it does not."

"But you should marry me anyway," Harry pointed out. He was very proud of that logic.

"Harry… You should love someone before you marry them."

"Well, duh."

"Potter—"

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco stared at him for a long moment, the others forgotten. And then he smiled.

"I'm picking the rings."

…

"You didn't get married," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe you actually thought you did."

"I mean, we're in Vegas," Harry pointed out. "Not the biggest stretch."

"You bought rings from a jeweller's we passed on the way back to the hotel and declared your love for each other, and then passed out in the elevator. Theo and I put you to bed."

Harry sat up and glared at Theo. "And you didn't tell us because…?"

"Because it's hilarious that you're both so accepting of being married and I think you should definitely get married before we leave? I was letting the idea sink in."

"Uh huh. Troll."

"That too," Theo agreed.

Harry glanced up at Draco to find him looking at his ring with a thoughtful expression.

"You okay?"

"Fine," Draco replied absently. "We should get ready, right? No point lazing the day away here."

Harry nodded and let Draco pull him to his feet and towards the bedroom they'd claimed as their own. He shut the door behind them.

"Draco—"

Before he could say anything else, he found himself pressed back against the closed door, Draco so close he could feel his breath on his face.

"You wanted to marry me," Draco murmured.

"You wanted to marry me too," Harry replied, eyes dropping to Draco's lips.

Draco nodded mutely and then leant forward to brush their lips together. It was a gentler kiss than Harry was expecting, but he leant into it anyway, lightly sucking Draco's top lips between both his own for a moment before he smiled against Draco's mouth.

"Maybe we keep the rings, hmm?"

Draco grinned back. "I want diamonds, Potter. But we'll keep these ones too. Besides, my mother will want an actual wedding."

"You heard Ron," Harry said. "Hermione and Molly will never let me hear the end of it if I elope."

"Summer weddings are nice," Draco pointed out.

Harry leant in for another kiss. When he pulled away, he said, "as long as you're mine, I don't care when we get married."

"Didn't you hear our friends, Potter?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm already yours. Have been for months."

Harry grinned and pushed Draco backwards, towards the bed. "Seems we've got some time to make up for then. There has been entirely not enough kissing since we're practically married."

"Did I say you had terrible ideas?" Draco asked, falling back against the pillows. "Because I think I meant the best."

"Yeah you did."

Written for:

Angel's Archive: 15. Disappear

Scamander's Case: 3. House: Gryffindor

Film Festival: 11. Shouting

Lyric Alley: 10. What's on your mind?

Forecast: 14. Dangerous

Revolution Evolution: 1. Trope: In Vino Veritas (Drunk people tell the truth)

Brand Wars: Valkyrie: Drunk / Burping / Platinum

365: 299. Holding Hands