There are some things in life that you know, and those you don't. There are things I know, and what I do know; they are amazing.

I know that when I kiss you, you give a little sigh before falling into it.

I know that when you kiss me, you have to step up the very tips of your toes before you purse your lips and peck mine.

I know that only you can, or ever will be able to turn me on with one look.

I know that you can still speak Parseltongue, and I know everything you say sounds dirty even if it isn't.

I know that weekends are important, and so are their traditions.

I know that soft lips against my shoulder in the morning is still my favorite wake-up call to this day.

I know you would prefer beer or ale over wine, but you still drink it for me anyway.

I know that you are really sweet, even if you can be pretty shy.

I know that you are a romantic. You would rather give someone flowers to say sorry than jewelry.

I know you eat treacle tart for desert when you're feeling stressed or sad.

I know that when you cry you like to stay silent, but still curl up in my arms and blubber into my shoulder.

I know you apologize for everything even when it isn't your fault because you secretly feel like it is your fault somehow.

I know you're afraid to love.

I know you love snuggling, if with nobody else, with me.

I know you prefer coffee over tea and take it with only sugar except on holidays.

I know you want to love me.

I know you're lying to yourself to avoid hurt even though you know it will only cause you more pain.

I know you have panic attacks when you don't know if I'm safe or not.

I know you think my OCD is cute.

I know you blush when our eyes connect when we make love.

I know what makes you sweat, laugh, cry, ache, pain, snort, moan, and scream.

I know you, Potter.

I know you know I love you.

I know I'm not letting you go for every galleon in the world.

I know you drive me crazy.

I know you can't break up with me even though you're trying.

I know you don't want to.

I know I don't want to make this harder than this has to be.

I know I love you.

Draco.

Harry stood flushed with tears running down his cheeks. The old parchment had been crumpled hundreds of times. The raven had opened and closed it, crumpled and thrown it, it was even ripped in a few places.

The wind blew dry his tears, but his eyes kept making fresh ones as they always did on the anniversary.

It had been the day before their wedding.

Harry tried to break it off.

Draco wrote this and slipped it into his pocket before he was going to deliver it by hand.

A rogue came out of nowhere.

Harry took a deep shaky breath before he let the wind carry the six year old parchment up. And up it went higher and higher into the clouded December sky until it surely reached the clouds.

He took one last look at the solid piece of engraved marble before walking sadly away.

Draco Abraxas Malfoy

June 5, 1980 – December 20, 2003

Loving Son, Friend, and Partner

Always