Draco slammed another two fingers of sake, cursing under his breath as the subway tile backsplash tilted a bit in his vision directly after. Hands fell upon his sagging shoulders and he jumped, spinning to meet his would-be attacker. The inebriated blond overestimated his speech and lack of balance, however, and ended up falling back, his coccyx meeting the edge of the counter sharply.
"Fuck's sake, Potter!" His manicured fingers grasped his own chest to calm his breathing. Taking in the man before him, Draco wondered if he was made aware yet.
"So I hear Hermione has figured it out?" Harry's emerald stare was bemused but something lay behind the humor. 'Fear,' Draco realized. No, not fear. Insecurity. In all the years they had been acquainted, first as school-aged rivals, then with a tentative sort of armistice between them after the war, and now as partners, Draco had only seen that look a handful of times.
He sighed and stepped closer to the shorter man, arms draped loosely over Harry's shoulders. "Yeah. Kind of fucked up my whole plan for next weekend, if I'm being honest." Harry's own limbs wrapped around Draco's waist, head buried in the former Slytherin Prince's chest to hide his face.
"Next weekend?" the sheer amount of surprise and hope in his boyfriend's voice made Draco's heart pang sweetly. He ran a hand under Harry's jaw, trailing fingers to the other man's chin and raising it to make eye contact. "Why next weekend?"
It was Draco's turn to hide his face, and he turned away slightly. "Ohhhh, no, no, no you don't, Draco Malfoy. What's next weekend?" Harry released his body as Draco twisted away with a mumble. "Wait, what was that?" Harry grabbed Draco's hand before the blond could wander away, spinning and caging him against the opposite counter with hands on either side of Draco's slim body.
"I-" No other words could come out before Harry had surged forward and captured his lips in a sweet kiss. If anyone had told him all those years ago he would be madly in love with Draco Lucius Malfoy, snogging him against the kitchen cupboards, he -well, actually, he probably would have believed it. Stranger things had happened to him after all. None so strange and happy as this, though, because Draco Malfoy wanted to marry him.
"Yes," he nibbled back against supple, kiss-swollen lips. His hands worked under Draco's thighs and lifted him onto the counter, hissing at the friction erupting between them. "Fuck yes."
Taking advantage of Narcissa's and guest's timely arrival, Hermione waved a finger in a series of Runes, binding a series of spells and charms together to protect the food and make sure the men in the kitchen had their privacy. Lucius' steely gaze met hers and he winked, raising a corner of his mouth in amusement. Feeling bold, Hermione winked back, the low simmer of arousal in her abdomen which had been present for some time flaring once again to life.
A clearing of throat brought her attention to Narcissa and the toe-curlingly handsome man just behind her, taking his companion's cloak. The two women shared a smile and a hug while the men made introductions among themselves. Hermione became aware of eyes on her and she glanced at the men just steps away. She realized with an internal jolt that both were giving her the same look full of appreciation and heat, the thought bittersweet as she only really wanted one set of their eyes gazing as such upon her. Narcissa broke the moment thankfully, releasing the hug and stepping to her plus-one's side, taking his hand in hers and entwining their fingers.
"Hermione, Lucius, this is Henri Boulanger." Hermione moved closer to Lucius, enough the feel his comforting aura at her side, and held out a hand to shake. Roughly five-foot-eleven, Boulanger had a sort of debonair charm about him, a mixture of old-fashioned and slightly naughty. Expecting to shake his hand, Hermione was surprised and a bit flustered when Boulanger bent at the waist and rubbed his thumb along her knuckles followed by his lips. Her flus grew when he winked on his way back to standing, posture impeccable.
Lucius' arm weaving around her shoulders brought her back to reality, his voice and words grounding her and keeping her focused. "We are pleased to meet you, Monsieur Boulanger." The surprisingly muscular arm around her squeezed just slightly and she smiled at the man beside her adoringly, working her own limb around his trim waist.
"Absolutely! Thank you for joining us for dinner!" She added, her eyes twinkling impishly as they met Lucius'. Narcissa squeezed Boulanger's hand, smothering a grin when she felt his responding pressure.
"Why are you here?" Draco whispered, buttoning his trousers back up. A flash out of the corner of his eye caught his attention yet again and he grinned. Harry Potter was wearing his ring. Harry James Motherfucking Potter was wearing his ring. Harry himself - his fiance, his fucking fiance - broke Draco's reverie with a low, slow laugh.
"Funny, that. I was invited." Harry tucked himself back into his denims, closing the zip with a quick shrrk. "I thought by you." Guilt shot through Draco unexpectedly but Harry just popped his head out the neck of his jumper grinning. "I'm taking the piss, love. But," an absent movement of Harry's hand further disrupted already chaotic raven hair. "If you didn't, who did?"
"My mother," Draco replied, his put-upon groan sounding through the kitchen a moment later.
In the sitting room, four people wore varying masks of awkward shock, Hermione's spells having dropped only minutes before. Narcissa cleared her throat once again. "How nice, Mr. Potter's here."