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Harry was expecting to come home to an empty house, as he had all week. Life as an Auror could be busy, with weird and unpredictable hours, but that couldn’t compare to Draco’s work as a Healer. Draco was unbelievably dedicated to his work - often to the detriment of his own health - a trait which only made Harry love him more. But on weeks like this, when Harry could count the minutes he’d spent with his husband on one hand, Harry couldn’t help wishing Draco was a little less committed to his job.
Draco tended to form close bonds with his patients, going to the ends of the earth to try and help them, and his main case this week was no different. He’d been spending 16 hours a day at St Mungo’s trying desperately to find a cure for the mysterious disease afflicting his patient, a young girl of only 17. He had been returning home late at night, Harry often already asleep, and running out of the house at first light, only pausing long enough to kiss a still half asleep Harry goodbye. So Harry was fully prepared for there to be no sign of Draco when he got in, even though he had also stayed later at work than usual.
But when Harry pushed open the front door to their townhouse, he was surprised to see a light on in their living room, the quiet noise of the record player seeping out into the hallway. It was Satie, the gentle lilting melodies of the gymnopédies familiar to Harry after so many years of living with Draco. That record was one of Draco’s favourites, one he always put on when he needed to relax or sleep. And the fact that it was playing meant that Draco was home, finally.
Quietly, Harry kicked off his shoes and removed his coat before going in to the living room, the thick carpet muffling the sound of his socked feet. The room was lit by a single lamp, the gold metal on the inside of the lampshade casting a golden glow over the room, the thick dark blue curtains closed and shutting out the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Harry loved their home, the way that it felt so completely theirs, the perfect mix of the two of them, from the kitchen that formed the heart of the house where Harry spent hours cooking, to the bookcases filled with Draco’s books that lined each room. He particularly loved their living room, with its dark navy walls, beautiful victorian fireplace, and comfy sofas, and he enjoyed nothing more than spending evenings curled up on one with Draco by his side, listening to music or reading books or simply enjoying being together.
But today his favourite thing about their living room had nothing to do with the decor, and everything to do with the man who was stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep. A smile spread across Harry’s face as he looked at Draco, taking in the way his eyes flickered as he dreamed, watching the gentle movement of his chest in time with his breaths. Draco still looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes nearly purple and contrasting with his even paler than usual skin, but he looked relaxed for the first time in days, the tension gone from his body and an air of calm replacing the frantic energy that had surrounded him all week. He was still in his work clothes, the only concession to his return home the silk tie draped over the arm of the sofa and the several undone buttons that revealed a long pale throat and delicate collar bones that Harry had a sudden urge to lick.
Draco looked so peaceful that Harry was loathe to wake him - he deserved some sleep after all the hard work and long hours he had been putting in - but Harry was unable to resist moving closer. He lowered himself to sit on the floor next to the sofa, resting his back against the footstool they always pulled up to the sofa so they could stretch out, his position allowing him to continue to watch Draco sleep. He didn’t care if it was weird to watch his husband sleep - it had been so long since they’d been able to spend any proper time together that Harry wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see him, even if all he got to do was sit next to him while he slept. Plus, Harry had never exactly minded having the chance to look at Draco. He still thought he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and he loved nothing more than to spend long moments tracing Draco’s skin with his eyes, tracking the way it had changed over the years. Draco hated the lines that had started to develop around his eyes and mouth but Harry loved them, visual reminders of the many years he had spent making Draco laugh, in much the same way that Draco often commented on how much he liked the streaks of grey that were starting to appear in Harry’s hair.
As Harry watched, Draco’s eyes fluttered, slowly opening, a groan escaping him as he stretched deeply.
‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ Harry chuckled when Draco noticed Harry sitting there.
‘Hi,’ Draco said, voice rough with sleep. ‘What time is it? How long have I been asleep for?’
‘It’s nearly 8.’
‘Merlin, I didn’t mean to sleep that long.’
‘You obviously needed it,’ Harry said, fingers moving to stroke Draco’s hair, twirling one of the loose curls around his finger. ‘Did you solve it, then?’
‘Mm, yeah,’ Draco said, his head nestling in to Harry’s palm. Draco was only ever this soft when he was sleepy, and Harry loved the rare occasions he got to see it. He knew Draco loved him, of course, and Draco was never shy about telling him that, but he liked to act as though he didn’t need taking care of. In a way, it made it all the sweeter when he did let Harry look after him.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ Harry murmured as he pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead. ‘You worked so hard.’
Draco, ever incapable of accepting praise, made a dismissive noise and instead tilted his head up, silently demanding a kiss that Harry happily gave him. For a long moment they kissed, Draco sighing into Harry’s mouth as their lips moved together. However many years they spent together, Harry would never stop loving kissing Draco, revelling in the way he melted under Harry’s touch.
A yawn escaping from Draco forced their kiss to end, Harry chuckling as Draco tried and failed to stop another.
‘Come on,’ Harry said, getting up off the floor, ignoring the way his knees protested and holding out a hand to Draco. ‘You’re exhausted - you need to go to bed.’
‘As long as you’re coming with me,’ Draco said, taking Harry’s hand and intertwining their fingers.
‘Of course,’ Harry said, before leading Draco up to their bedroom.
Harry closed the curtains and dimmed the lights as Draco stripped off his shirt and trousers, crawling into their bed and sighing as he sank into the soft pillows. Harry followed suit, curling up behind Draco and pulling him in close, Draco’s body warm against his chest. Draco fell asleep quickly, his tiredness and the movement of Harry’s hand up and down his side soon lulling him back to sleep, and Harry felt happiness overwhelm him as he looked across at the peaceful face of his sleeping husband. He loved that Draco worked so hard to help his patients, but he loved having Draco next to him in bed even more.