"Alright," Harry said as he stumbled out of the floo behind his boyfriend of six years. "Who the bloody hell was that?"
Draco had already wiped the soot from his jacket and looked his usual impeccable self to match their impeccable surroundings of the Manor's drawing room. It was a far cry from the warm, well-worn, furnishings of the rustic muggle pub they had just left Blaise at with his most recent conquest after their double date.
"Who was who, darling?" Draco asked distractedly, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
"Don't play dumb, darling," Harry narrowed his eyes. "What happened to Anna? She was sweet, I liked her."
"Yes, well so did Blaise. But I guess he likes Christine now. Charlotte? Or was it Caroline? I swear it began with a C."
Draco was already walking towards the drinks cabinet to pour them each a glass of firewhisky. He knew Harry so well at this point that the alcohol would be necessary as they discussed the recent development of Blaise's love life. Although he did find it adorable that Harry still held onto romantic ideals. Not that he would ever speak that out loud, of course.
"You were right with Christine. But seriously, Draco. If he keeps going through women like this, I might have to start calling him Henry." Harry accepted the glass of firewhisky and downed it in one.
"Oh, come on! He's not beheading any of them. And do you honestly see Blaise, Blaise, our serial philanderer friend..."
"Your serial philanderer friend, you mean."
"...settling down and marrying one woman, let alone six."
"Hang on. You got that reference."
"Well of course I did. Who do you take me for?"
"You seriously know about Henry VIII?"
"Yes, seriously." Draco placed his still full tumbler down on the nearest side table and grabbed Harry's wrist. "Come on, I'll show you something."
He pulled Harry through the Manor to the library, Draco's favourite room by far, but one that Harry hardly ever set foot in. Sometimes Granger would come over and join Draco there in silent companionship, enjoying their respective books or research while Harry went out and did whatever it was that he and Weasley did for fun.
Draco deposited his boyfriend on the burgundy leather sofa underneath the windows closest to the historical section. His fingers skittered over the spines of the historical fiction that sat on the shelves at eyeline before he looked up, and up, summoning the footstool so he could reach the books he was really looking for.
Harry could be happy in the library it appeared, so long as Draco was reaching up to the shelves like that. He was thoroughly enjoying the view of Draco's backside in tight, charcoal trousers when he was disrupted from his reverie by a heavy book landing on his lap. It was followed by another, then another, each title referring to Henry VIII, The Tudors, or his six wives.
"Bloody hell, Draco. I get it, okay. You know about Henry VIII." Another two books landed on his lap and he sighed in exasperation. "Okay, you definitely know a lot more than me." Draco turned his head to look at him with a smug grin on his face. "I only know the bloody song."
"What song?" Draco was curious.
"You know... Divorced, beheaded and died. Divorced, beheaded, survived. They taught us it at school. Primary school in history class."
Draco pressed his lips together in an obvious effort to hold back his laughter which only resulted in an amused snort and a grin that he hid behind the book he was holding.
"Go ahead and laugh," Harry resigned himself to his boyfriend's mirth.
"Nope, I'm good," Draco replied after coughing lightly to clear his throat.
He was stepping down from the footstool now with a pile of small, leather-bound books levitating in front of him.
"These," he said, settling down next to Harry and putting the books on the small table in front of the sofa. "These are really special."
He began using magic to turn the pages of the books which were discoloured with age and Harry spotted the name Malfoy written occasionally amongst the scrawled handwriting.
Harry leant forward to look closer at the words in one of the books, only for Draco to smack his hand when he went to turn a page.
"Hey!" he complained.
"They're my ancestors' journals, Harry," Draco said, eyes glistening with glee. "Remember how the Malfoys used to be quite influential in Muggle business and politics?" Harry could only nod, mesmerised by the look on his boyfriend's face. "Well this one," he pointed, "belonged to Jacob Malfoy in 1547. He witnessed the King's death, gives an account of it in here and talks a bit before that about Catherine Parr. Did you know he helped her become the first published woman in Britain? Just altered a few memories here and there, maybe cast an imperious or two..."
"To make sure the sixth queen was a published author?"
"So he says. But this one," Draco pointed again, "was the journal of Jacob's father in 1536. He was often at court to provide advice on something or other."
"So, you're telling me that your ancestors knew Henry VIII? Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, all of them?"
Draco nodded enthusiastically, nibbling at his lower lip. "Yup! Brilliant isn't it? And that charge of witchcraft on Anne Boleyn?" Now it was Harry's turn to nod in wonder, "Actually witchcraft! Or wizard-craft in any case."
His boyfriend's eyes were twinkling.
"She asked the wrong family for a favour. Or the right family I guess, whichever way you want to look at it." Harry could see that Draco found this absolutely hilarious.
"Draco! She was beheaded for that!"
"No," Draco reasoned. "She was beheaded because she stupidly committed adultery and possibly incest. And that had nothing to do with the Malfoys. They just provided her with a fertility potion. Had she kept to the king's bed, she would have been fine."
Harry stared incredulously.
"What? It's not our fault she panicked. Here, look."