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“Look at him,” Draco said to Pansy, tipping slightly further than he’d intended to when he was trying to get a better look at the ridiculously hot bloke leaning against the bar.

“Who?” Pansy asked, whipping her head around to follow Draco’s gaze.

“Him,” Draco said, extending his arm and bumping his finger into Pansy’s nose because his inebriation had apparently affected his gross motor control. “The one with the arse,” he said, admiring the lovely, round shape wrapped in tight denim. “Don’t you just want to sink your teeth into it?” he asked.

“Draco, wh-”

“And that hair,” he added, imagining what it would look like if you released those dark curls from the elastic currently binding them. “Imagine sinking your fingers into that long thick hair, maybe pulling it a little while you-”

“Draco-” she started again.

“Shush,” he chastised, “Don’t interrupt a good day dream,” he said, glaring at her. He returned his eyes to the man at the bar once more, “And look at his shoulder muscles,” he added, admiring the way his t-shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders. The man reached back and scratched his neck, forearm flexing, and Draco might have drooled a bit.

“Draco,” she tried again, “How drunk are you?”

He glanced at her before hearing the man laugh and looking back over to see his head tilt back, exposing his throat. He was too distracted to even wonder why he knew that the laugh belonged to the man in the first place. “I’m going to talk to him,” he said resolutely before throwing back the shot that remained in front of him and shoving his chair back.

He smoothed his hair and blew out a nervous breath as he made his way over to the bar, sidling up next to the handsome stranger, “Hello,” he said.

The man turned impossibly beautiful green eyes on him, an eye brow rose as his eyes drifted over Draco’s face. “Hi,” he replied in a voice that felt like honey in Draco’s veins as the corner of his mouth ticked up, exposing a dimple.

He swallowed and the man’s eyes dropped to his throat. “I’m Draco,” he said, holding out a hand.

The man’s smile widened, “Harry,” he replied, clasping Draco’s hand in his.

The name was a bit plain, but Draco could imagine the way it would feel in his mouth as he neared an orgasm, open and delicious. A shiver traced it’s way up his spine. “Nice to meet you,” Draco replied. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m just drinking soda tonight,” he said, nodding toward his cup.

Draco frowned, “Then why are you here?”

“Waiting for someone.”

Jealously burned hot and bright in his stomach. “Well where are they?” he demanded. Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco continued, “It seems pretty rude if you ask me.”

“Does it?” Harry asked, his voice warm and amused, and almost fond.

“Yes. Is it a friend?”

“More than a friend,” the other man replied, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“A lover?” he asked.


He felt nauseous, “Are you married?” he asked.

“I am,” the man replied, holding up his left hand so Draco could see the ring.

“Oh,” he whispered, why did that make him feel so sad? “Right,” he said, sniffling and blinking against the stinging wetness in his eyes.

“Draco,” Harry said, reaching toward him.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, nodding to himself. “It’s fine. You’re very kind but-”

“Draco,” he repeated, taking Draco’s left hand and holding it up, “It’s you, you nut,” he said with a laugh, “You’re my husband,” he added, pointing to the matching wedding band on his finger.

“I’m your husband?” he asked incredulously, looking between his ring and the man’s face.

Harry nodded, laughing softly at whatever expression was painted on Draco’s face.

“Wait a minute,” he said, pointing a finger at Harry. The other man held his hand up in surrender and Draco spun around and made his way back to Pansy. “That is my husband?” he hissed.

She took a sip of her martini and turned her gaze from the woman a few tables over. “Yes, darling. I tried to tell you.”

“He’s my husband?” Draco asked, his eyes feeling suspiciously misty again.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Yes. This happens every time you drink Frangelico. We need to stop letting you drink those birthday cake shots.”

“It’s my birthday?”

She shook her head, “No,” she said in exasperation. “You just like the way those shots taste.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning again.

“Tell Harry it’s time to take you home.”

He glanced back over to see that Harry was leaning a hip against the bar as he watched Draco talk to Pansy. Harry gave him a little smile and Draco’s insides turned to goo. “Alright,” he replied, smiling helplessly back. “Night, Pans.”

“Good night, you lush,” she replied fondly but Draco was already half way back to Harry.

“Hey,” Harry said, giving him a little smile. “Ready to go home?”

Draco nodded and Harry held out an arm for him. He slipped his arm through the other man’s and he apparated them home.

“This way, love,” Harry called once they landed and Draco got his bearings.

He followed the other man back into a cozy bedroom and watched as Harry stripped out of his shirt. “Oh sweet Merlin,” he murmured as his eyes traced the defined musculature of Harry’s back.

“What?” Harry asked, turning around and revealing an equally defined front. Draco’s jaw dropped and Harry grinned at him, “I always forget how gratifying this is.”

“You,” Draco said, completely missing whatever it was that Harry said, “You are gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, stepping closer.

“Can I?” Draco asked, reaching out a hand toward the other man’s chest.

He huffed a laugh but nodded.

Draco reached out and trailed his fingers over Harry’s clavicles and down his chest, brushing over his lightly defined abs before tracing his way back up once more.

“Draco,” Harry breathed, eyes closed as he stood perfectly still, letting Draco’s fingers dance along his skin.

“You are unfairly pretty.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open.

But before he could say anything Draco asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“If you want to,” Harry replied.

He leaned in and pressed his lips softly to the other man’s and it was like slipping into a dream he’d had a hundred times. He knew these lips, he knew this body; Draco groaned, pressing into Harry and melding their bodies together.

“There you are,” Harry said when Draco drew back far enough to trail kisses along Harry’s jaw.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Love you, too,” Harry said, tipping his head so he could brush his nose over Draco’s.

He sighed and pulled Harry closer, resting his head on his shoulder and hugging him tight.

“Alright?” Harry asked, hands stroking soothingly over Draco’s spine.

“Tired,” he replied.

Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Time for bed, then.”

They went through the familiar motions of getting ready and climbing into bed together. “Harry?” he asked, once they were settled in under the covers and Draco was resting with his ear over Harry’s heart. “Thanks for always indulging me.”

Harry hummed and Draco could hear the smile in his voice, “It’s no hardship,” he said. “It’s tremendously good for my ego,” he added with a little laugh.

“You know you’re the only one for me, right?” Draco asked.

He kissed the top of Draco’s head, “Of course,” he said. “It’s not like you don’t recognize me, you know. Your conscious mind may forget but your body always knows me. It’s why you always cry when I tell you I’m married,” he teased.

“I do not,” Draco protested.

“You do,” Harry argued, “Every time. It’s one of my favorite things.”

“You like to see me cry?” he asked, vaguely insulted.

He felt Harry shake his head, “No, I love to see the look of wonder on your face when I tell you that we’re married,” he replied.

“I always feel that way, you know,” he confessed, “Even when I’m completely sober. It’s incomprehensible to me that you would want this life with me.”

Harry held him a little tighter, dropping another kiss to the top of his head, “The feeling is quite mutual my love,” he replied.

And they spent the rest of their lives feeling the same; beyond lucky and amazed that a love like this could belong to them.