Draco could hardly enjoy his breakfast, what with all the overexcited murmurings whispered between the professors to his left and right. He tried eating quicker, chewing louder—his mother would Avada herself if she saw—clattering his silverware, and clearing his throat often but nothing could drown out the incessant mutterings of did you hear? and can you believe it? and do you think he knows—
Then he walked in, finally managing to accomplish what Draco couldn’t (figures).
Silence swarmed the Great Hall for only a shocked moment before animated conversations sparked anew, this time accompanied by pointed fingers and wide eyes, dropped jaws and too-loud shrieks of joy. Draco rolled his eyes; it was all a bit overdone, wasn’t it?
He would have loved to say he was above such pettiness. That he'd evolved. That he had neither need nor desire to stoop down to that level anymore.
But he would have been lying.
As he watched Weaselbee stumble and fumble through his pathetic attempts at making nice with Hermione, he was itching to let him know how pointless his efforts truly were. How Hermione had all the pleasure and excitement she could want. How Draco was so very willing to provide it. And how she took and gave that pleasure of her own free will, enthusiastically so - from and to him.
Merlin knew he would have loved to spell it all out in great detail and rub the redhead's freckled nose in it. But not only would that have been considered rude conduct, Hermione would have gravely disapproved. And he did so want to stay on both the giving and receiving end of her pleasure.
So, instead, Draco contented himself with the private knowledge of his carnal delights and let it take the form of a smug sneer or smirk whenever Ronald Weasley made an appearance. After all, Hermione had already made her choice.
Since this marks one week, this is going to be extra long!
"Goodbye love," Draco says as he leaves Grimmauld Place a little late.
Harry was dressing when he left him in the room, he casts a tempus charm just outside the door. It's almost noon, Salazar knew why Harry didn't even bat an eyelid at his late morning.
He apparates to the Maya Magal in London, it's apparantly the best place to get engagement rings and both Pansy and Hermione vouch for it.
A handsomely dressed woman, probably Draco's age, greets him at the door and takes him inside.
"What would you be looking for today, sir?" she asks politely.
"Engagement rings, thank you."
"Do you have any choice or maybe a reference picture?"
"No, just something light and simple would do. He doesn't like heavy jewels or jewels for that matter." Draco says, belatedly realising that he used the masculine pronoun instead of the neutral one, Hermione had told him that Muggles didn't always see eye to eye with same gender relationships like Wizards and Witched did.
But the lady doesn't even hesitate before giving him a smile and leading him towards the middle of the store. She starts showing him a myriad of rings- all of them elegant and classy with intricate designs but nothing that would suit Harry.
After almost four hours of looking at almost each and every ring in the shop, he picks a simple band which a mixture of platinum and gold with tiny diamonds adorning it's edges. He immediately knows that this is it.
The lady smiles at him again, not a single sign in her face saying that she is frustrated or annoyed that Draco took such a long time.
"Would you like to engrave something on the inside?"
"Yes sure." Draco replies, he instantly knows what he wants. In the end, the lady- Lara tells him to come back in two hours for the ring to be ready and he thanks her and gets going.
A tempus charm shows him that he has about three hours to get home before Harry starts to suspect anything and that's plenty of time. He apparates to the cementry in Godric's hollow.
"Hello," he greets James and Lily as he sits down beside their grave on the ground, "So I wanted to ask you for Harry's hand. I know it's an ancient practice and well, you are dead but I want to do this right. I was raised this way and I'm rambling."
He takes a moment conjure some flowers before he starts talking again, "So I want to marry your son. Why should he marry me? I don't know that. Merlin, I don't even know why he loves me. Me, who is an angry arsehole to everyone and who never smiles. Weasley's definition not mine, just so you know. I can tell you why I love him though? Maybe that will be enough to convince you both. Harry, he has always been my guiding star. I don't know how but even in school when we were at each other's throats, he had been someone constant, someone always there. No matter in what way, just there. And afterwards, the war where well you know things happened and I was so bloody naive but he was there as well. He had been my only hope back then, that Harry might be able to save all of his from the doom which was Vol-voldemort. And he did, he even initiated the house unity in Eighth year and then we got seperated because of our careers and look at us now. Both working at the Ministry and even our departments are connected, somewhat. I'm an Unspeakable, you see. You would know that Harry is Head Auror but not about me. I don't know when that star, that hope became my everything. Slowly, but consistently. We grew closer and I can't imagine a day without him anymore. At the end of the day, I need to be around him else I can't fall asleep.
It's been almost twelve years since the war but some scars remain. I'm really hoping that you would look past those and forgive me and accept me as your son's husband-if he says yes that is. Maybe this is all in vain, Harry might just say no and that will be that. But I'm trying not to focus on the negatives right now. Thank you for your sacrifices and thank you so much for giving this world such a kind hearted, selfless person. Thank you for my Harry." He finishes at last, his eyes are slightly tinging but that's alright. No one's here to see him like this anyways.
He talks to them somemore, about everything about him and Harry and how much he loves him and how he would never let Harry feel like he did throughout his childhood and how he plans on proposing Harry on the anniversary of their tenth year together.
Its about 6pm when he leaves the graveyard and goes to pick up the ring.
.........
As soon as Harry hears Draco call out his goodbye, he takes out his notepad from under the socks in the drawer and checks everything he needs to do in order for everything to be perfect tomorrow.
Pick up ring
Ask the parents
Check in with Hermione and Pansy
Order the flowers
He makes goes to the Wizarding Jewelry Place first and asks for the ring.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. The ring is ready and just how you asked it to be. I'll bring it right out," the old man says, who Harry got to know was the owner of the shop from Pansy.
He comes out after several moments and in his hands is a small jewelry box, with intricate golden work over the black satin. The man opens the box and shows Harry the ring, it's perfect with its platinum and gold band and a heavy diamond in the middle of it, he checks the inside and yes, the inscription is just how he had wanted it to be.
He thanks the man and hurries to Wiltshire after making his payment.
He apparates just outside of the Manor gates, after all these years it's fairly easy to enter. The Manor has transformed drastically, and Narcissa and surprisingly, Lucius's warm welcome behaviour had helped immensely.
He had been shocked when he met Lucius as Draco's boyfriend for the first time since the war, it had been after two years of dating Draco and he had been invited over. Gone was the bigoted, slimy bastard he knew, this Lucius was still as much of an arsehole but not the same one. They were not friendly exactly, but he liked to think that he and Lucius got along nowadays. Well it's almost been eight years so he guessed with time anything was possible.
The gates opens to him without any sort of hindrance. Just as he was going to knock on the door, Mipsy opens it and pokes her head out.
"Mipsy is here to greet Harry Potter. Who does Harry Potter like to meet? Master Draco isn't here today."
"Yes, Mipsy I'm aware that Draco isn't here. I'm here to meet Lucius and Narcissa actually." He explains, Mipsy nods her head and vanishes with a small pop, only to return twenty seconds later, and asking Harry to follow her to the parlor.
"Harry, dear. What do we owe this pleasure to?" Narcissa asks as he enters the room.
"Sure you haven't lost your way here? Draco doesn't live here any longer." Lucius says at the same time.
"Yes, Lucius I haven't lost my way and I know Draco doesn't live here any longer, since you know, he lives with me now," he retorts back- Merlin it's weird enough calling Lucius by his name in his head, it's weirder when he says it out loud. "I actually wanted to ask for something."
"See Cissa, I told you he had ulterior motives after all," Lucius says as he looks over Harry suspiciously.
"Oh Lucius, why don't we hear out the young man before you start with all your nonsense." Narcissa says and she waves her hand towards Harry in a way to tell him to continue.
"I want to ask for Draco's hand in marriage." Harry blurts out, the silence that follows is deafening. He looks from Malfoy to the other, both of them seem to be in an intense conversation which is being spoken through their eyes.
It's Lucius who breaks the silence at last, "Why do you want to marry our son? Why should we allow you?"
"Because I love him, I know it can't be as simple as that but that's the gist of it. I love your son with my whole being. I can't imagine a day where I can't see his face or without his insults which have somehow become a constant as well. I tried to find the many reasons for which I should deserve to marry him, I can't find one. But I want to, I want to be deserved enough to marry Draco Malfoy. I want to make him happy for the rest of his life and I want to do this right for once, that's why here I'm asking permission for his hand because even though it doesn't matter nowadays. Draco loves tradition and for him, this is of great significance and I want everything to be right this time." Harry finishes and when he looks over at them, because he had said most of that looking at the carpet, Narcissa's eyes a bit glassy and Lucius who never shows emotion, is actually beaming at him.
"Very well then, Harry. You have both our permission to marry our son and we both would be honoured to welcome you into the Malfoy family. I...I might have been wrong about you afterall." Lucius says and coming from him it's high praise. He is glad both of them and he tells them so and both of them smile fondly at him. They make him stay for tea and afterwards wishes him luck as he floos to Diagon Alley to meet Hermione and Pansy at the new cafe.
"So you got the parents blessings then?" Pansy asks as she takes a sip of her firewhiskey mixed coffee.
"Yup"
"And you have the ring?" Hermione questions as she sets down her wine glass. Seriously is this a cafe or a pub?
"Right here!" He shows them the ring and they coo over it for a minute. "Is this place even a cafe or is that just for the name?"
"It's a cafe and bar, of sorts. They provide a mixture of normal drinks but add alcohol to it. You should try the vodka and peach drink. It's absolutely perfect." Pansy answers as she calls over a waiter.
"No thank you, Pans. I have to go back to my boyfriend who shouldn't even suspect that I have been anywhere but work today. Do you have anything non-alcoholic?" He directs the last question to the waiter who has come.
"Yes, right about everything can be non-alcoholic or purely alcoholic as well. The mixtures are just out speciality."
"Oh then....you know what give me a vodka and peach drink. I deserve it after spending an entire afternoon with two Malfoys." Harry says. The waiter suppresses his amusement and goes to get his order.
Pansy and Hermione snicker at him, "Oh shut it. As if you both wouldn't do the exact same."
They are still chuckling as he discusses the details of the date he had set up for tomorrow. Nowhere public because neither of them liked that, so instead he had picked up a picnic spot for tomorrow night. It would be great fun to propose in the middle of night with only the moons and stars providing them light.
Pansy and Hermione were incharge of setting everything up and they would also be telling Draco that it was a joint anniversary gift to them and they had informed Harry as well. It was the perfect ploy and no one would suspect a thing.
"Alright, the two of you. Enjoy your night, go home safely. I need to get going if I want to make it home before him." Harry says as he gets up and kisses both their cheeks one by one.
"Ron and Blaise will be here shortly so you need not worry about it, darling. We'll be alright on our own till then." Hermione says back and Pansy adds,"Draco never comes home early so you needn't worry about it."
Seriously these two are in so much sync that it terrifies him at times.
He steps out of the cafe and on a impromptu decision apparates to Godric's hollow instead.
...
Draco apparates directly inside the Manor Gates after picking up the ring.
Tabota greets him and tells him that his parents are in the third floor parlor. He makes his way quickly-he doesn't have much time left, he needs to be quick now.
"Hello, love. What a pleasant surprise!" Mother says as he enters.
"Hello Mother," he says and then nods towards his father, "Father,"
"Actually I'm in a bit of a hurry right now. I wanted the Malfoy signet ring." Draco says, getting to the point quickly.
"But I can see you wearing yours, son." Father says.
"Yes I know. I'm- I'm proposing Harry tomorrow." He announces and he is confused by their identical expressions of surprise and then repressed mirth. He didn't except that.
"Is that so?" Father says as he tilts his head, "Very well then, I'll go get it." He leaves the room and Draco is left with his Mother.
"I'm so happy for you, my darling." She says as she comes closer and hugs him.
"Well, I hope he says yes, else..." Draco replies as he hugs her back.
"Oh I'm sure he won't." Father replies as he enters the room. That was surprisingly quick.
"Here you go, son. I'm sure Harry would be quite delighted." He hands Draco the ring and engulfs him in a rare hug as well. Draco can't believe it, his parents approve. Not that he didn't know that, but it's different to know that so explicitly.
"Thank you. I need to get going now. Goodbye." Draco says, his parents murmur their byes and he apparates directly to Grimmauld Place.
Harry's yet to be home, so he decides to hide his ring and take a long bath.
Tomorrow is going to be perfect!
@cupofsquirrelfan hope you like this!
Day 6: Braid || Day 8: Tattoo
Part 2 and Part 3 of Proposal
Requests open || Let me know if you want a part 2 of this
He stands before me, with a lopsided smile and bright eyes; holding a bouquet of my favourite daffodils.
I’m about to slam the door in his face but he muscles his way in, the brute.
He tries to hug me but I push him away.
Who does he think he is waltzing in here like nothing happened? As if he didn’t disappear for a month without telling anybody.
The only sign of his wellbeing was a message from a private number on Hermione’s mobility phone (or whatever it’s called) that read ‘I’m ok, be back soon-H’ and even that was weeks ago, he could’ve been dead in a ditch by now!
“I’m sorry,” he says.
My heart is pounding.
I want to slap his stupid face but at the same time want to hug him tight and never let go. Want to apparate away but also never let him out of my sight again.
He takes a tentative step and I lunge at him.
The kiss is like sunshine after a dreary winter. It makes my heart sing; I feel like I can breathe again. Spring is here and so is happiness!
Written for the April Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge.
Prompt: Spring
Word count: 192
Thank you to the organisers and all the lovely folks over on Discord. 🌼
"It's been a while then?" He looks away, and then back, defiantly. He kisses me again. "Never this way, but I want it." We look into each others eyes. I believe him.
1200 words, rated T. Brief mentions of past/potential sex.
Draco takes pride in his bedroom efforts.
That wasn't always the case, of course. Pansy was a disaster. Greg was an awkward experiment – he shivers just to remember it. But he began to hit his stride in Blaise. With Blaise, rather. It's not about what he does with his bits; that's just the delicious icing on the bedded cake. It's about building the mood. Touching. Once Draco discovered the theory behind erogenous zones, well, the game changed and he found his rhythm.
He is a memorable lay, to say the least.
But it seems like Harry couldn't care less for his efforts. Draco does everything right. The neck is his favorite place to start. No one invites a touch to their neck, not without complete and utter trust.
And Harry's eager for his touch, even now. He clearly loves Draco's hand on the back of his neck as they lounge together on the sofa. He leans into it. His muscles are always knotted up after working a full day in the shop. Broomwrighting is hard, physical work, the way Harry does it: every handle carved by hand, sanded by hand, stained by hand. Every twig meticulously selected with Harry bent over the workbench, brows knitted in concentration. Every rise and fall of the hand-braided twine that weaves the twigs into a tight cinch. A certified Lightning broom dominates every custom-model market, and Harry's coiled muscles carry the price.
Draco takes pride in helping him find release. Honestly, he doesn't know how Harry would survive without him...the Weasels would probably come to drag him to Sunday lunch only to find him curled up in a solid ball of twisted, achey muscles. So Draco can't understand why Harry invites a touch to his neck, then an arm around his waist, even a hand gripping his arse, but not the icing on the cake. He settles into Draco's side, a perfect fit. He hums at the kiss to his ever-windswept hair. He closes his eyes and puffs a happy little sigh when Draco crooks his arm to card his fingers through his stupid hair.
And that's it.
He pulls away if Draco goes any further. Their perfect fit is left empty and cold as Harry oh so casually shifts to the other end of the sofa, kicking his feet up into Draco's lap and holding Quidditch Through the Ages in front of his face. As if Draco can't see through it.
He asks. He immediately regrets asking, because Harry doesn't lower the book, which means he wasn't even reading in the first place. Just using it as a prop between them.
But Harry does answer, finally, and the answer leaves Draco wishing he hadn't.
“'It's not you, it's me'?” Draco manages. He feels like he's choking. Is this how it ends? Six months of living together, suffering the media storm together, braving Weasel Sunday lunches together – twenty four lunches! – and it ends here, on this blasted sofa. With the Wireless playing a Harpies game in the background. Draco doesn't think he can handle it if Weaslette scores right now.
And Harry explains. He says he's broken, “or something.” He says he thought he just couldn't keep up with Weaslette – and damn it all, the bitch scores just as he says her name and Draco slashes his wand at the radio. They're left in silence, Harry's words ringing between them. It's one of those things, Draco can hear his mother saying in his head. One of those things they have to talk about. Communicate. Ugh, it's tedious and uncouth and bloody well necessary if he doesn't want it to end here, on this sofa.
They talk long into the hour. Harry plucks up his Gryffindor courage and tells Draco all about how there's something wrong with him, how he loves Draco with every fiber of his little lion heart but he just doesn't want...that. Not from him, not from anyone. But what Draco hears is that there's something wrong with him, with his efforts, and Harry's quick to correct. Inevitably, they fight. His words are as sharp as the knife in his gut and Harry shuts down. Goes cold.
Draco settles back into the couch – he doesn't remember when he stood – and they try again. Draco can't stand a cold Harry Potter. He fell in love with his fire, his fight, and this is too much like the prickly first few weeks of their business partnership. He wheedles his way back in. He's good at that. Picking. Poking. Finding just the right words to ease them back into a conversation he very much doesn't want to have.
At some point, his anger shifts into something else entirely. Broken. Harry Potter is not broken. Who told him that? Who could look at this man, this fiery, courageous, affectionate, gentle-hearted man and see something broken?
“Just because I didn't read the instruction manual, doesn't mean you're broken,” he says, and watches in a sort of detached fascination as Harry uncoils ever so slightly.
Harry loves all of it, he tells him, “just not...that bit, so much.” Well, fine then. Draco can take care of himself, but what does Harry need from him if not his legendary efforts?
Harry takes him to bed and Draco protests all the way, offers to sleep on the cursed sofa, offers to give him his space. He doesn't want to crowd. He doesn't want to be where he's not wanted, and he's clearly not wanted in bed.
But they find their perfect fit again. There's something awkward about it, something...expectant. Draco's expecting something, Harry's clearly waiting for him to do something, but he's lost in a way he hasn't been since the disaster with Pansy. Harry speaks like he's got Longbottom's toad in his throat. He wants, needs all of it...just not that.
Draco kisses his stupid hair and tries not to wonder if it'll be the last time. It's a test he can't afford to fail but there's no bloody manual for this, despite his clever words. He holds Harry against his side and feels him relax marginally. He cups his arse – in for a knut, in for a galleon – and to his surprise, Harry doesn't pull away. He turns into it. Right... Right. Draco knows this part. Maybe he's not quite as lost as he thought, though the endgame has changed. When they snog, it's soft and warm, then a bit more warm, and just as Draco thinks he's found his rhythm, Harry pulls back.
Ah. Draco adjusts himself. Harry asks if this is okay and Draco gives him his very best sneer. When he's cooled off, he pulls Harry back in. They touch. All those places that aren't sexual but still somehow forbidden without trust. Harry craves his touch and Draco delights in teaching him a thing or two about a proper weave of limbs. It gets a bit ridiculous – he's not sure where his left leg is or how Harry's arm is simultaneously behind and in front of him – and they tease and banter just the same. Harry's skin is still the same, still scruffy on the jaw and calloused on the hands. He can still hear Harry's heart beating against his firm chest, but it's not pounding in anticipation of...something. He can still meet those fiery green eyes, though there's something more in his gaze now. Something excited, and that makes Draco feel excited – not in his pants, Merlin forbid, but in his own eyes.
“Fuck you, Potter,” he laughs, suddenly overwhelmed, and Harry grins.
Draco has a year to carry out the Dark Lord’s assignment. But sometimes when he visits the Room of Requirement, instead of hills of hidden objects and the Vanishing Cabinet, he finds a mirror wherein another boy speaks to him through his own reflection. As they grow closer, Draco’s repeated failures make him desperate to find a way to appease Voldemort. So desperate that when the boy he’s grown to love turns out to be Harry Potter, Draco kidnaps him on the spot.
Preview of Chapter 3
“You’ve…” Jay’s eyes were so wide there were wrinkles in the image of Draco’s forehead, which Draco disapproved of on principle. “You’ve done...it? With a boy?”
“Yes,” Draco said, wondering what the big deal was. He knew some of the other Houses were more prudish, but it couldn’t be that different in Slytherin, surely? Sometimes his friends talked about sex so much Draco was downright bored by it. Even Herbology could start to sound interesting after a particularly long weekend. “And a girl, too,” Draco added more smugly, but only because finding a girl who was interested was considered a more significant achievement. In truth he hadn’t enjoyed it very much. There were so many unexpected lumps and soft places.
