AN: Hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am! I promise to keep updating, I promise I have an ending in mind for this one and it's a long ways away. This one is for Nessa, and they know why. I love you, Valentine.
Chapter 13: Happy Beginnings
Lazy Sunday mornings in Malfoy Manor were rapidly becoming Harry Potter's favorite thing.
"Hey," he murmured, lips pressed to Draco's chin covered in platinum stubble. It was rare that Harry got to see him so disheveled. After a night of copious shagging, though, Draco just couldn't be arsed to get up and shave quite yet. "What's on your mind?"
Draco looked down at Harry with a tight smile. His left leg ached from how it had shaken the other night. "On my mind…" Draco mused for a moment, all tangled up in his sheets with Harry. "Well. I'm thinking of work, because I always do when I get anxious about something else. It's a place of control."
"Draco Malfoy likes control," Harry said, pretending to be surprised. "I really ought to be taking notes here lest I forget that one."
Draco snorted and gave Harry's arse a pinch.
"Hey!" Harry laughed, curling his leg around Draco's even closer.
"As if you don't love it."
"I do, I do," Harry had to admit. He nuzzled his nose against Draco's jawline. "I can understand why you're anxious, Draco. I mean, I can't really, but you know what I mean. It's understandable, to be nervous. You still don't have to—"
"Ah, but I'm going to," Draco interjected.
Harry brought his hand up to stroke Draco's cheek. "Right." He shifted so he could look Draco in the eye. "But you don't have to."
"But I want to tell them," Draco had to admit. "For more than it just being a gesture to show you how seriously I take our arrangement. I want to tell my parents about us because I want them to know someone important is in my life. I've told them about boyfriends before, you know. It's just the 'who' of the matter that's going to shock them."
"How will you be telling them we reconnected?"" Harry asked curiously.
Draco paused to weigh his options. "I could tell them we met again in that bar we went to and it wouldn't technically be a lie." It wasn't as if Draco could say he was searching for sugarbabies to fill the Manor up with and Harry just happened to be the perfect submissive for the job. "I was sitting at the bar when who approaches me but Harry Potter."
Harry nodded. That sounded reasonable, and not mortifying.
"You really had some balls to do that," Draco recalled fondly.
Harry checked under the covers. "Believe it or not, I still have them on me," he joked, earning a little giggle from Draco that lit up his heart. It had been a week since the double date with Ron and Hermione, a week of Harry keeping his love close to his chest.
Every time he tried to confess it the words stopped flowing. His mouth went dry and his throat scratchy, and he backed down from admitting how he truly felt each time. A mad, feral part of him wanted to just shout it out now, but that wasn't the way he wanted Draco to first hear that he loved him. Regardless of whether Draco loved him back, Harry wanted his confession to be in a moment of mutual admiration.
They had had several such moments but Harry's voice failed him each time. Maybe he needed some of that reckless confidence he'd had when he approached Draco at the bar knowing he was 'Daddy D'.
"As much as I would like to lie with you here all day," Draco started, looking over to the clock on the bedside table. "My parents will be expecting me soon—clothed."
"Oh, what a shame," Harry sighed and pulled away from Draco's warmth in spite of himself. The last thing Draco needed was the added pressure and the heat of being late to tea with his parents.
"What will you be up to while I'm gone?" Draco asked as he got up, a small nudge of encouragement towards Harry doing something productive.
"The greenhouse is nearly finished, so I may cross that one off the list today. Then we can start moving in and growing plants for the rest of the garden." Harry watched as Draco stood, naked as the day he was born, and padded over to the bathroom.
In the bathroom mirror Draco wore a frown to see himself so unshaven. He immediately waved his wand to bring the razor and cream out of the drawer and dancing into his hands. He applied the foamy white mixture generously to his face and went in with the multi-blade tool, shaving off the peach fuzz in favor of a cleaner look. "That's wonderful, Harry," Draco said and meant it. "You really have come far."
"I'm more motivated these days," Harry had to admit. "I feel… good?"
"You sound doubtful," Draco pointed out, turning on the faucet and washing the remaining shaving cream off.
Harry laughed and sat up in the bed, elbows resting on his knees. "I feel like I'm going to jinx it if I admit how good I really feel," he elaborated for Draco, still caught up in his sheets. They smelled like him, and that made it hard to leave them.
Draco patted his face dry with a towel and turned around so he could face Harry through the open bathroom door. "No such thing, Harry. On the contrary I like to hear when I'm making you happy."
"You always do," Harry replied, so lovesick he couldn't even be embarrassed about it.
Draco smiled. "You are simply the sweetest man I know, do you know that, Harry Potter?" He leaned against the bathroom counter to stare at Harry a moment longer before turning to brush his teeth.
Then it was Harry's turn to smile. "I can't say I know it, but I like to hear it," he settled on, playing with the hem of the sheets.
"Then I will have to say it more often," Draco decided after placing his toothbrush back in the holder. Next to it was Harry's toothbrush, and Draco tried not to think of what a sod he was for thinking it to be intimate.
Draco fussed with his hair for a few more minutes and then stepped out of the bathroom towards the closet. By the time he re-entered the bedroom Harry was already up and putting on pants. "Have an outfit all picked out?" Harry guessed.
"As a matter of fact I do," Draco replied and produced a deep blue suit with a black turtleneck to go underneath. "One can never be sloppy when arriving for tea with the Malfoys."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry chuckled, still searching for a shirt for himself to get some work done in.
Once they were both fully clothed and Draco had adjusted himself for the last time in the mirror he turned around with arms outspread. "Come here, pet. Give Daddy a hug before he leaves."
A small twinge of arousal spiked in Harry to hear Draco call himself that. It was amazing what one word could do to Harry. He stepped into Draco's arms and tightly wrapped his own around Draco's waist.
"I'll be back before you know it," Draco assured Harry and himself in one go, patting Harry's back.
"Maybe by the time you come back I'll have started moving plants into the greenhouse," Harry suggested. He wanted Draco to come home to his success, wanted to see that smile of his and hear how proud he made him. It was addictive, all this praise and lavishment, and now Harry scarcely believed he could survive without it.
Draco gave him a kiss on both cheeks. "No matter what your progress I'll be happy. Now, I must be off." He brought their lips together and savored their union.
"Bye, Daddy."
"Goodbye, sweetling."
The trip through the floo was an uneventful one, with Draco ending up going from one opulent house to another albeit more finished one.
Draco stepped onto the marble floor in front of the France Malfoy Estate's fireplace and adjusted his lapels. "Mother?" he called into the seemingly empty home.
Sunshine streamed in through open windows elegant enough to make him almost forget what a gilded cage this was.
"In here, dear," came Narcissa's voice from down the hall, though she didn't stay there long. The second she heard her boy's voice she was click-clacking in her heels down the hall to get to him and embrace him in a motherly hug. She smelled of jasmine, as she always did. "Oh, look at you, so handsome."
"Thanks, mum," said Draco.
Not far behind the clicking of heels was the sound of boots—black boots, always black—coming the same way.
Draco stood face-to-face with his father, nearly as tall as him now. "Father," he greeted him with a nod. "You look well."
"As do you, son," spoke Lucius, voice deep and commanding even when he wasn't saying anything too important. He had the kind of voice that people listened to, and back in the day used to respect above all. "Come, we'll be having tea in the sitting room."
Nodding, Draco released himself from his mother's grip and followed his father down the hall. The sitting room was a pastel palette of florals on the cushions with milky white walls and carpet. It felt like being inside a cream puff, a feeling Draco didn't entirely hate. It was better than the old Manor, all dark and gloomy even at the best of times.
The Malfoy ancestor who had built the Wiltshire Manor was farther back in the lineage than the one who built the France Estate, and it showed in the more modern use of whites and muted colors here.
Draco sat on the couch opposite from where his parents sat, waiting patiently as his mother waved her wand so the tea would pour itself out for everyone. When his cup was full Draco took it in two hands and drank deep.
"Mmm, Bergamot."
"Grown in the back, of course," his mother added.
Draco expected nothing less of his mother's taste in tea. She was an Englishwoman at heart no matter how the Ministry exiled her. "It's delicious."
Lucius sipped from his cup before cutting to what was really on his mind. "So, how goes work on the Manor?" This was Lucius testing the waters.
Draco perked up rather than shied away from this question, something Lucius had not expected. "It goes well, actually," Draco was able to answer. "The second floor is coming along nicely. We just finished the library and one of the sitting rooms, and the Greenhouse is almost built so we can start raising plants for the gardens."
"That's—that's fantastic," stuttered Lucius. "Truly. The tomes can be moved in, now?"
"All of them," Draco confirmed proudly.
"I can arrange for the ones kept here to be owled over," Lucius said. He hadn't been expecting such progress when Draco usually dodged the questions about construction. "I shall then, I suppose."
Narcissa was oddly quiet. Draco looked at his mother and saw her smiling almost… wickedly? There was something dangerous in her eyes.
"Isn't it fantastic, mother?" Draco asked, itching the back of his turtleneck.
"It is simply fantastic. Only… You said something interesting, Draco," his mother pointed out, eyes brighter than ever. "You said 'we'. 'We' just finished the library and 'we' can start raising plants."
The younger man's face went pale. He should have known he wouldn't be able to hide it for long, but had he given himself up already? Draco, wounded, wondered if he was losing his edge or if his mother was just that damn good.
"Royal 'we' exists in this scenario," Draco defended with a falter in his voice. Dammit.
"I thought you banned your friends from helping you with the Manor since the incident with Blaise Zabini and the plumbing," Lucius remarked. He sipped his tea, wondering which friend had been allowed back on the project.
"Well," said Draco, and his voice got so dry he lost the words that were supposed to come next in a language desert.
Lucius frowned, and Narcissa smiled even wider.
"Well…?" Lucius finally asked, unable to bear this bizarre tension anymore.
Draco took a breath. He had to be brave, be brave for Harry. "I met someone," Draco led with. "Or really, reconnected with someone. He's very important in my life right now, and he has been helping me see my vision for the Manor come true."
Narcissa clutched her teacup tightly. "Oh, Draco. That's wonderful," she soothed, sensing her boy was nervous to say all this.
Off the bat Lucius didn't like the idea of some stranger helping with the Manor. It was different when Draco's hapless childhood friends were assisting, but who was this person? Lucius didn't trust a soul outside of his circle, he never had. This was supposed to be done by a Malfoy.
"And you and this person, you are…?" Lucius asked, avoiding eye contact.
Draco sighed. Lucius never could bring himself to be specific about this, could he? "He and I are together," Draco answered succinctly. That was the sort of clarity his poor, confused father needed.
"Wonderful!" Narcissa said again, jabbing Lucius with her heel in the side of his ankle. "Isn't that nice, Draco finally settling down."
"Hey, I said nothing about settling down," Draco shot back at her with a grin he hoped would win both parents over. They always had been loving, and weak to Draco's protests should he not get what he wanted. It was why Draco was so damn spoiled.
Narcissa giggled. "Right, of course, dear, of course."
"Mum."
At that Lucius seemed to wake up from his temporary coma. "Draco," he sounded out as if learning to speak. "That… is… very nice."
Draco snorted. "You sound like you're in pain," he laughed.
"I am not," Lucius defended. "I do not! I am not."
Narcissa had to laugh, too. "Your father is proud of you, darling," she insisted.
"Of course I am proud of Draco," Lucius huffed, setting down his tea and crossing his arms. "He is my only child, and a brilliant one at that. I simply… struggle with the choices he makes sometimes."
"I'll say," Draco chuckled, allowing himself this moment of mirth before it all inevitably came crashing down. "But, ah, thank you. I hope you keep that attitude when I tell you what I have to tell you next."
Narcissa was still laughing, too, and didn't stop even when Draco uttered his ominous warning. "Wait, let me guess," she interjected. "If I may."
"I don't think you could guess it in a thousand years," Draco said flatly, waiting for whatever nonsense his mother had come up with this time.
"You," Narcissa started, putting her tea down and pointing at Draco. "Are in love."
Draco's jaw dropped. "I, I mean, how could you think—? I, I, I, me? We're talking about me, right? That's—that's—I mean, come on." His face went bright pink.
"You are. Do you think I don't know when my own son is in love?" Narcissa asked and arched a perfectly-trimmed brow. "I could tell the moment you entered our home, no, even before then, darling. Putting off our letters, your vague wording in them about your activities at the hospital and in your 'week off' that Pye told use about—I suspected it before you even arrived."
"Mother, that's ridiculous," Draco declared weakly, sinking back into the couch with a racing heart. If only she knew who she was accusing him of being in love with.
"Oh, come now, I don't mean to embarrass you, dear." Narcissa came down from her laughing with a ladylike hand over her mouth. "But a mother knows. Tell me, who is this man and when can we meet him?"
"Would you believe me if I say you already have?" Draco asked, half-breathless.
Lucius' head cocked waiting for Draco to elaborate.
"You've met him before. He's from school, Hogwarts," Draco specified as if there were another school they almost all died at. Hogwarts began as the best of times for young, spoiled Draco but had ended in terror. Sheer, naked terror for his life, for the lives of his parents and the fate of this world.
In a way, Hogwarts was all about Harry Potter—hating him, being jealous of him, being stupidly attracted to him, being afraid of him, being afraid for him… Madness. The schoolboy crushes were apparently mutual from Harry's stories of their time there. Talking about that time in their lives, that time in Draco's life when he was ashamed of who he was, was never easy.
Draco twirled the Malfoy signet ring on his right hand. It was supposed to be joined on his left by now with a pureblood woman if the Dark Lord had gotten his way. It was thanks to Harry that he could even live his life freely, openly as himself.
It was Harry Potter now he couldn't get enough of, always wanted to be with, and again, the physical attraction on both sides was hot enough to melt paint.
"He," Draco started to his parents who amidst his thinking were waiting with baited breath. "Is. Someone who is good to me and good for me. He is someone who makes me happy, and yes, I… feel strongly about it." Why deny it any longer? He'd been found out. "He lives in the Manor with me, he helps me build it… And his name is Harry Potter."
Draco winced slightly as if expecting an explosion. Instead there was a long silence.
Draco, like he was that little boy again, looked to his father.
"How?" Lucius whispered.
"I, I was at a bar, and he was there, and came up to me, and—"
"How could you," Lucius finished, earning a sharp jab from Narcissa. "How could he build the Manor with him? That's—that's too important! The Manor is something sacred to our family line, only meant to be built by Malfoys."
"What?" Draco and Narcissa both said at once.
"Enough," said Narcissa. "We have to leave the old ways behind, Lucius."
"But he's—! But they are—!" Lucius scrambled. "Building a house together!"
"Is this," Draco asked quietly. "Some kind of metaphor for—?"
"No! Gallivant with who you want, but only build our house with someone you intend to marry, son! How long have you and this boy even been together?"
"That is irrelevant," Draco tried to sweep away and got a glare. "Twomonths. But I meant what I said when I said that… thing I said." About love. "It's in the building."
"Exactly," Lucius criticized. "And when he leaves you, who will you see in the remains?"
"That's morbid, father," Draco said flatly. "Why is it him leaving me in this scenario, hm?"
"Because Gryffindor or not, you cannot expect that boy to ever go public with you," Lucius insisted. "To announce a wedding with you."
"Woah, what? Who brought up a wedding?" Draco demanded, gripping the edge of the couch. "And I'll have you know that he's the bravest person I know, so don't question whether he'd do something so utterly reckless to his public image, of course he would. I think he'd be delighted to do it in a sick way." Fuck, Draco loved that sick man.
"What your father means to say," Narcissa tried to translate. "Is that building a house with someone is as serious as a marriage. You said he lives there already? Can he not afford his own lodgings with the Potter wealth?"
"He can," Draco defended. "But we wanted to move in together."
"How early into two months?" Lucius asked.
"What?"
"How early into two months did you move in the Potter boy, Draco?" Lucius was feeling his voice grow hoarse with worry.
This whole 'tell the truth' plan was a total wash.
"Day two," Draco specified quietly.
"Day two?"
"Day two."
"Draco, have you lost your—"
"Father, please, I know what I'm doing. I didn't realize you were so… passionate about real estate, but you've made your point."
"It's not 'real estate', it's Malfoy Manor!" Lucius replied, exasperated. His usually-proud shoulders slumped. "You grew up there, I grew up there, and your children will grow up there."
"I don't know about children, father…" Draco rolled his eyes.
"Have you asked Two-Day Patron Saint Potter about children? These are real concerns, Draco."
Shellshocked, Draco just shook his head for a moment. "Father, I am managing it all in my own time. I am trying to do my best to do right by him in the moment and he wanted to help so I let him. It's thanks to him that I can make decisions for myself—he's hardly an interior designer—he just encourages me to do what I want."
"That's good, isn't it?" Narcissa urged, taking and squeezing Lucius' hand tight.
"Let me guess, his favorite color is red," Lucius grumbled.
"It's lavender, actually," Draco answered.
"I didn't even know he was… like you," Lucius tried. "What about the Weasley girl?"
"I'm expecting to meet her soon," Draco murmured, somber. All he remembered of her was making fun of her in school. Hardly his proudest moments. "But yes, Harry is gay like me. Hence the living together."
Lucius shook his head.
"Your disapproval won't stop it," Draco reminded him, trying to be bold like Harry.
"Your father doesn't disapprove, he simply… wishes you had considered these questions before taking such a big step with a partner," Narcissa translated again. "But I think he forgets how short our Courtship was."
"That was completely different," Lucius defended. "We were promised to one another."
"And had me six months after the wedding, uh-huh. I can do maths," Draco reminded them, earning a dark glare from both parents.
"You were our blessing," Narcissa hissed through gritted teeth. "And always will be, Draco. We only want what is best for you." Following Draco, Narcissa was never able to get pregnant again no matter how she tried, so she poured all her love into her one son. "I would go to the ends of this earth for you, my love. Your loving Harry Potter won't change that."
Draco had known that was the case and yet to hear it from his mother brought a weight off his chest. His father grumbled something that Draco hoped was agreeing with her sentiment.
"We want what's best for you," echoed Lucius of Narcissa's sentiment. "The last thing we want is you being hurt. You've never been so brash and irrational in relationships before, Draco."
"He gives me the courage to be brash," Draco laid bare. "Do you have any idea what it's like to come home to no one? You two have always had each other. Well, I'm so excited every day to come home to Harry, okay? Let me have that."
"I am so happy that you have that," Narcissa urged. "We both are. Aren't we, Lucius?"
Lucius turned from his wife to his son back to his wife. "Are we?" he asked, exasperated.
"Yes, we are," she growled and squeezed his hand tighter.
"How did you even know I took a week off?" Draco questioned his mother.
Narcissa sipped her tea demurely. "A mother has her ways, dear. I maintain a correspondence with several people who noted your absence from work on a 'holiday' I knew nothing about."
Draco shouldn't have expected any less from a Slytherin. "Of course."
"What did you need a week off to even do?" Lucius sighed but then quickly put a hand up. "I changed my mind. I do not want to know."
Draco had half a mind to admit he was training Harry to be the perfect submissive, how to walk in heels and talk like a proper posh darling. Wouldn't that grey Lucius' hair even faster. "We were getting reacquainted," Draco tried, but it came out as unfortunately sexual as the truth was. "I was showing him all the work that needed to be done on the Manor," he tried again.
"I for one," Narcissa cut in. "Think it's lovely that you've found the inspiration to continue on with the construction of the Manor. I don't care where it comes from—your motivation has clearly increased."
"…And he isn't pushing any Gryffindor-esque designs on you?" Lucius grumbled, seeking some confirmation.
With a roll of his eyes Draco continued to sip his tea down to the finish. "No, father. He doesn't 'push' anything on me. It's quite nice."
"And you're sure he would be okay with being public some day?"
"We haven't discussed it much, but yes, I'm sure Harry would take such a thing in stride so long as it were on our own terms," Draco defended. "I will speak to him about it, if it calms your fatherly concern."
"It would," Lucius huffed, not caring about how petty it made him sound. "And furthermore, if you truly wished to quell my concern, you would allow me to meet with him to interrogate his intentions."
"You want me to throw him into the snake pit," Draco remarked, arching a brow.
"A lion can take a few bites," Lucius shrugged. "If he's serious about being with you then he will have to be able to withstand my questioning. I insist."
"I'm sure you do," Draco sighed, shaking his head slightly.
"What does he like to eat? I could cook a meal," Narcissa suggested, hoping that would impress the elven-rights activist in Harry with her ability to survive without a house elf cooking and cleaning for them.
"He has a sweet tooth like me," Draco admitted, growing soft to think of all they had in common. "His favorite dessert is treacle tarts."
"And does he know your favorite dessert is chocolate cake?" Lucius questioned.
Draco sighed. "I'm sure he would. Is that a question I should prepare him for? Any other ones on your study guide?"
"No, I won't be telling you, he will have to answer them without your assistance," Lucius said seriously.
"I was joking—ugh." Draco set his empty teacup down. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"
"I'm not the one who's gone and shacked up with a half-blood," Lucius remarked quietly, earning a smack on the arm from Narcissa. "Fine, fine. At least it's not a muggle."
Draco rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long, long teatime.
"And he said what about muggles?" Harry questioned, pouring another shot of whiskey.
"That at least you weren't one," Draco sighed, taking the shot from Harry and downing it in spite of the burn. Getting piss drunk was the perfect response to an afternoon spent with parents in Draco's opinion. "It wasn't the worst it could have been."
Harry poured himself a shot and took it down just as quickly, making a little face before putting the shot glass down. "That's a glowing review."
"Mother seemed thrilled about it and wants you over as soon as possible, it's just father you have to win over," Draco tried to frame for him. He put his legs up on the couch and over Harry's lap. The sitting room was the perfect setting for a drunken evening with his beloved—though he hadn't quite told him he was his beloved just yet. "He has… issues with you helping out with the Manor."
"That is so goddamn weird," Harry said, pouring out two more shots of whiskey. "You know how weird that is, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"And did you tell him it was weird?"
"It's hard to tell Lucius Abraxas Malfoy much of anything," Draco admitted with more melancholy than he'd intended.
Harry softened. "Hey, you know I'm really proud of you for telling him in the first place. Your mum, too. I can't imagine it was easy." He offered up another shot glass and Draco took it, clinking their two glasses together before making quick work of their third shot in a row.
"Ah, that burns," Draco observed mildly of the alcohol but didn't seem to mind much. "I've taken stranger things to the throat, though." He gave Harry a wink.
Harry snickered and put a hand on Draco's knees. "That you have."
"Let's talk about literally anything other than my parents," Draco suggested. "How was your day? The finished greenhouse is a sight to see."
"Thank you," Harry perked up, quite proud of his work. It was the first and only thing he'd ever built, magic or otherwise. He looked towards the window where it was now too dark to see the grounds but he knew it was out there, something he'd built just for the two of them. "If I'm not careful I may get addicted to this feeling."
"The sweet high of a completed home project," Draco nodded sagely. "Thanks to you I can experience that all the more often." Lucius' doubts be damned—Draco was getting stuff done with Harry around. They motivated each other to do better, to be better. "Does it make the Manor feel more like home?"
"Yeah," Harry answered with no hesitation. "But you've already done a good job of that yourself. I feel at ease here—you can hardly tell it's the same place as before." The same place they wrestled for their wands and Draco 'lost' them to Harry as he escaped.
"Thank you. Maybe one day Granger will even see it that way," Draco imagined wistfully.
"I hope so, too." Harry wanted his best friend to be able to visit, to see how much things had changed with the house and with Draco. He knew Hermione still had reservations but was being amicable for his sake, and he wanted to reward that with further glimpses into how kind and generous Draco could be.
A warm, pleasant feeling spread across Draco's face, the whiskey finally hitting. "Hey, gorgeous," Draco greeted Harry like they hadn't been sitting here for a solid fifteen minutes together. "Gimme a kiss."
Harry broke into a wide grin. "Sure thing." The hand on Draco's knee reached up to cup his face, feeling how warm his cheek was before planting a soft, tender kiss on Draco's lips. "That do?"
"Mmm, I may need another," Draco thought aloud.
So Harry gave him another, this time a long and lingering one full with a soft hum from Draco.
"Yes, that hits the spot," Draco confirmed. "You're quite good at that, you know—snogging and such."
"And such?" Harry asked maintaining his grin.
"And such," Draco nodded. "Come here, sit in Daddy's lap. I want to tell you a story."
Curious, Harry released Draco's legs and they repositioned themselves so Draco was lounging back on the couch and Harry was straddling him, staring down at his lovely, angular face with pure affection in his eyes. "What sort of story?"
"The kind with a happy ending," Draco said, drunkenly making this up as he went along. "Pour us two more shots, sweetheart." He could always be drunker.
"Yes, Daddy." Harry turned on Draco's lap and wiggled his butt against his crotch, eliciting a peal of giggles from Draco as Harry poured. Harry took the two full glasses and lifted one to Draco's lips, pouring the shot between them.
Harry could be so silly, and it made Draco so giddy. He took Harry's shot and lifted it to his lips, the smaller man taking it down easily. "So, your story," Draco said, idly fondling Harry's chest over his shirt. "It starts with a lonely prince, all alone in his big, empty castle."
"And with such a low self-image," Harry joked, knowing immediately who Draco was talking about.
"Do you want to hear the story?" Draco questioned of Harry and he arched a brow even though Harry was facing away.
"Yes, yes, I do. I'm especially interested in how it ends."
"So impatient," Draco teased. "How would you like it to end, Harry?"
"I dunno. It's your story," Harry shrugged. "But if I had to pick, it'd be a happy ending for the prince."
"Yeah?" Draco asked idly, tucking a lock of raven hair behind Harry's ear. "Define happy."
"This is not usually how stories go," Harry pointed out. "Me guessing the ending."
"You're not guessing the ending, you're making it," Draco informed him.
"Am I now? Well, then I want the prince to meet a handsome stableboy so they can have that happy ending that princes usually get."
"'Usually get'?" Draco questioned, amused and happy to be talking nonsense with Harry.
Harry shrugged. "Well, you know how stories with princes go. They become kings."
"Does the stableboy also become a king?"
"Whose story is this?" Harry laughed, turning on Draco's lap so he could look him in the eye.
"It could be nobody's," Draco shrugged. "But it could also be ours, if you like."
"Our story," Harry nodded. "Two kings, one castle. I think I'd like that. Draco…"
Something in Harry's voice made Draco's breath thin.
"Draco, can I tell you something? And you can't—you can't say I'm just saying it because we're drinking," Harry insisted.
Draco's tongue darted out to wet his drying lips. "Okay, I won't say that," he promised.
"Because I am a little," Harry admitted. "A little foxed."
"Just a tad," Draco grinned to hide how his heart was pounding.
"But that doesn't change anything when I say this." Harry took a steadying breath.
Draco's gaze flitted from feature to feature on Harry's face. His green eyes, his long lashes, his plump, soft lips…
"Draco," said Harry with a deep, shuddery breath. "Draco, I… I love you. And," Harry quickly added. "You don't have to say it back, you really don't, I—I just wanted to tell you. There's no, um, expectation—"
"I know," Draco said quickly, stumbling over his words, face hot. "I mean, I know there's no expectation, I just didn't know you—you really…?"
"I do," Harry confirmed.
"Harry," Draco breathed, suppressing a smile because he couldn't rightly believe any of this. He had to be dreaming, and fuck, was he tipsy. "You are… you have always been," Draco tried. "You were the first person to ever, ever say no to me. In my life. July 31st, 1991, in Madam Malkin's Robe Shop you changed my life forever. You said no to me, you rejected me, and I deserved it."
Draco was under no illusion of what a purist arse he'd been those days.
"And now you love me and I…?"
"Deserve it," Harry finished for him resolutely. "You do."
"I love you, too," Draco said, biting back tears.
Harry blinked. Warmth blossomed inside of his chest like a flower opening to the sun for the first time. "You… you do?"
"Is it that hard to believe?" Draco deflected with humor.
"I mean," Harry said, his whole body still bubbling. "Not through any fault of your own, I just—I rarely hear someone say that and mean it." Strangers shouted their love out in the streets all the time when Harry roamed Diagon Alley, which was part of the reason he now hated going. Rabid 'fans' were the bane of his existence, and he couldn't seem to step outside in the Wizarding World without encountering at least one.
That made Draco frown. "Well, I mean it."
Harry cupped the side of his face. "And the fact that you do is just… I love you, Draco."
"And I love you, Harry," Draco said and felt all the lighter for saying it. He'd always expected love to be a heavy thing, but with Harry it was feather-light.
"How's that for a happy ending?" Harry asked, cheeky as ever now that he'd heard Draco say it in return. Twice! He was over the moon, hands stroking Draco's soft face.
Draco considered it. "I'd rather call it a happy beginning."
"Yeah? I like the sound of that," Harry agreed. "I love it, even. Oh, Draco, you've made me so happy." Harry kissed both of his cheeks like Draco had done to him so many times when he was tucking him into bed.
"As you've made me, little love," Draco said, all the possibilities of petnames opening up to him now that he could call Harry 'love' and really mean it. He gave Harry's forehead a kiss and spoke with his lips still pressed there. "I was indeed lonely before my gallant stableboy came into my life. Well, came into my life for the second time, that is."
"Second time's the charm, it seems," Harry agreed. He pulled back from Draco's lips on his forehead so he could bring their lips together with an audible smack. He quickly checked his watch. "Well, that was July 31st, 1991. This is… May 24th, 2007." With Hermione and Ron's wedding coming up August 5th. Harry had never thought he'd be able to find a date before then, let alone love.
"A good day," Draco confirmed even after everything with his backwards father's pressures.
"The best."
They kissed, and at last their twin hearts knew peace.
Her eyes went wide, her pupils damn-near turned to galleon symbols. "This," said Rita Skeeter from her office chair, spindly legs crossed beneath her desk. "Is the biggest scoop of the decade. Forget our end-of-the-war edition, this is going to sell."
"Ironic it'd be the same person involved in both headlines," spoke the man on the other side of the desk. His foot was tapping nervously while Rita's were almost vibrating out of her stiletto heels with excitement. He frowned to watch her flip through the pages of the first copy of The Prophet they would distribute tomorrow morning. "Well. We've made the Unbreakable Vow, and you will never reveal your source."
"Never, darling," Rita assured him unctuously over the brim of the newspaper. She found a line she particularly liked and laughed gleefully before sealing the paper again. "And here's your coin." The Prophet might be just a 'dirty tabloid' to most journals these days, a relic of the nineties that ought to have died long ago, but they still had the deepest vaults in Gringotts. Rita had a feeling they were about to get deeper.
"Then we've concluded our business here," spoke the man. He picked up the velvet sack and tucked it away in his robes before standing. "I was never here."
"Of course, of course. Wait, one more thing—you take this copy." Rita handed the paper over the desk to him. He took it. "Because I'm about to have millions more."
The man sighed and looked down at the headline:
POTTER AND MALFOY'S KINKY BDSM SECRETS: LIVE-IN HOMOSEXUAL LIES
"Right. Goodbye, then." And he turned away from her, leaving the office of The Prophet without a soul spotting him. He'd made it—and no one would know it was him.