WARNING: AU, Slash, ooc
DISCLAIMER: The wonderful and talented J.K. Rowling, not me, owns everything recognizable. A fact that often makes me sad.
A/N: This is the second half of what I originally planned to be a one shot. If you like the ending of Chapter one, feel free to stop there. I will warn you, this half is less angsty and much more fluffy! Thanks for reading everyone, and I hope you enjoy it!
I wake up alone. I shoot up in bed, and my whole body sags in relief when I spot Harry sitting in the window. I can tell he's looking at me, but the sunlight is streaming in and I can't see his face. "Draco?" he asks, and his tone tells me more than his expression would. He sounds young. Too young, and it worries me. "I'm so sorry," he continues, and now I'm honestly afraid. "Sorry for what?" I manage to croak out.
Harry jumps off the windowsill and throws himself onto my lap. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I hate running off in the middle of the night leaving you wondering if you'll ever see me again. I hate running off wondering if I'll see you again. I hate that you have to worry so much about me, and I hate that I make you so sad." He's crying now, sobbing into my lap like he'll never stop, and the words are all jumbled and slurred, but I understand them all the same.
Harry doesn't cry. Malfoys Do. Not. Cry. But Harry takes it to the extreme. I've never seen him like this and I'm not entirely sure of what to do. My Harry, my strong, super-powered, incredibly resilient Harry is falling to pieces. This is a man who endured years of abuse at the hands of his 'family'. A man who was both loved as a grandson and used as a pawn by Dumbledore. The man who took on Voldemort and lived, not once, but half a dozen times. There's nothing I can say, so I just hold him and silently swear to never, ever let go.
It takes awhile, but he finally calms down. "I don't understand," he whispers. "How can you love me after all the crap I put you through?" "Because I do." I softly reply. It may be simple, but it's true. "But why?" he asks, and I can feel that this is one of those Important Conversations that you do not want to screw up. I think for a second, but all I can come up with is "Because you're you. Because you're Harry." He stares into my eyes, searching for something. He must find it because he cracks a small smile, nods, and pulls me in for a bone-crushing hug. I make sure to crush his bones in return. My Harry has returned safe and sound after all.
We decide on waffles for breakfast. Partly because they're tasty and partly because waffles are one of the few things I can make without lighting the kitchen on fire. Harry's humming softly to himself as he stirs up the batter, and I make sure to add an obscene amount of sugar to his coffee. Severus, Remus, and Sirius are nowhere to be seen, although I'm sure they're awake. They're letting us have this moment, and I'm immensely grateful for it. I make a note to get them all something nice in the near future.
Harry and I are just sitting down to breakfast when the fireplace gives a telltale 'pop'. I wince, and Harry goes pale. Then he takes a breath, schools his face into an expression of indifference (that I taught him – and I've wished several times since that I hadn't), and walks toward the floo.
"Minister", I hear him greet. "How can I be of assistance?" The minister launches into a long-winded tale of danger and darkness, and I begin to prepare for another wait for Harry. Then Harry interrupts, and I'm so surprised at what he's saying that I nearly fall out of my chair. He's telling the minister that he's sorry, that he won't be able to go on any more of these little 'missions'. That the minister has an auror department that is perfectly capable of such things and that he should use it. That he needs to get back to breakfast, so good-day minster and good luck with that problem you're having.
He walks back into the kitchen wearing a grin that lights up his whole face, and with the air of a man who just set down the heaviest of burdens. He's also muttering something that sounds suspiciously like 'password lock the floo'. He looks at me, and his grin gets even wider. "What'd ya think?" he asks, and for a moment I'm completely speechless. "Are you sure?" I ask. "Completely," he responds. And I can see that he means it.
"I meant what I said earlier, Draco. I'm tired of putting us through this crap every time the minister has a problem. Voldemort's dead and the Death Eaters are almost gone, so who am I fighting? I can't tell anymore, so it's time to quit. I want us to have a family, Draco. I want kids, and a back yard to run around in, and maybe a dog other than Siri. I can't do that and run off into battle every other night. I want to be here, with you, and if the world burns because of it, then let it. All I want is you. Us."
"That's all I want too," I whisper, and then we're both grinning like morons and then we're kissing fiercely and everything is wonderful and blurry and perfect until Siri comes bursting into the kitchen, Remus at his heels.
Sirius is cheering and Remus is apologizing for letting him get away and trying to drag him out of the kitchen when Severus walks through the door. "Potter," he says (and I don't know about Harry but the tone of voice he's using has transported me right back to first year potions), "have you just proposed to my nephew?"
"Yes, I suppose I have" Harry answers (and he doesn't look at all disturbed by Severus' 'danger!' tone, blast him). "And I'm fairly certain he accepted." All eyes turn to me, and all I can come up with is a "Yep", and I grab Harry and pull him to me again. I can hear quite a bit of happy sounding noise going on, but I pay no attention to it. All that matters at this moment is Us.