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“Merlin. Finally. They’re both asleep,” Draco whispered, looking over his shoulder into the back car seat.
The small, slumbering forms of their two sons still make his heart clench even three years after their birth. Jamie was Harry’s double. Jamie had the same green eyes and unruly mop of hair as Harry while Scorpius was altogether more Malfoy. Pius had silky blond hair and a chin that was identical to his own.
This was their first family Christmas away from Grimmauld Place and the duel prospect of Santa Claus visiting tomorrow as well as seeing their Weasley cousins had meant that both four years old boys had risen early and been overexcited for most of the day.
Both children had been exhilarated at the prospect of riding in a Muggle car (Harry and he had borrowed Lucius’s enchanted Mercedes to make the journey to The Burrow: Pius always got terribly floo-sick) and had been in a state of hyperactivity for what had seemed like an age.
Now, with just over an hour left till they arrived, both boys were snoozing.
Peace at last. It felt wonderful.
“Thank Circe,” Harry replied, not taking his eyes off the road. Harry was a good driver, though Draco had to admit those traffic avoidance wards that his husband cast made this whole driving lark far easier. “Quick. Cast a Silencing Spell around us, Draco love. We don’t want them awake them before we get within sniffing distance of Molly’s gingerbread wine.”
Draco laughed. Despite the sickly sweet aftertaste of that particular beverage both Harry and he adored that particular Weasley recipe. He twirled his wand, wrapping their babies in a warm, soundless bubble of magic. Nothing was penetrating that little spell, Draco thought, satisfied with his wand work.
“Shall we listen to some music? Some of our own?” Draco asked, nodding to the dashboard. Harry and he had been been entreated into listening to Martin, the Mad Muggle singing his version of Rudolf the Red-nosed Hippogriff more than once. That song had gotten very old, very fast.
“Some of my own,” Harry smirked, narrowing his eyes at the road stretched out in front of them. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,” he continued, affecting an awful faux-American accent. “If I have to listen to any more of your Wizarding-bloody-opera I’ll hex my own ears shut. No… I’ve made a new playlist. On my phone. Under ‘Draco.’ Just a little collection of all the songs that remind me of you.”
Wicked Game
Chris Isaak
The world was on fire and no one could save me but you / It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
“I love this song,” Harry said, grinding the gears and making Draco wince a little. “Every time I hear it, it’s you that I picture as the lover.”
Draco took a swallow of water, and screwed the top on carefully. Harry was telling the truth: Muggle music wasn’t something he’d ever really engaged with. It was just so divergent to anything he’d ever heard growing up. Harry did play this song quite often, but Draco hadn't tried listening to the lyrics before now.
“It might be a love song,” Draco said, listening hard to the words, “but the singer… He doesn’t want to fall in love, does he?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Not quite sure how this song is a compliment, Potter. The person he’s fallen in love with… Well. Whomever they are. They’re playing with his heart.”
“But don’t you think that’s how it felt? After the War?” Harry asked, looking into his rear-view mirror. “My whole world felt like it was aflame. Nothing in my life was how I’d imagined it’d be. When we went back to Hogwarts for that insane Eighth year-"
“And McGonagall announced she wanted to improve house unity. Had us sharing a dorm room. Make us partner in bloody potions -” Draco interrupted, grinning. The memories were still as fresh as if it’d been yesterday.
“That’s exactly it,” Harry agreed. “We went back to Hogwarts and none of those certainties that I’d been convinced of were true any more. And you… You weren't anything like I’d thought you were. I didn't want to find you attractive, or funny, but I couldn’t help myself. For so many months I thought you were playing some sort of game with me-”
“As if,” Draco scoffed, casting an eye over their babies. Thankfully, they were still fast asleep. “If anything, I through it was you that was messing me about. You’ll remember my spirits were lower that a bloody flobberworm at that point? Every single day I thought you’d decide to kick me to the curb.”
“Thing is, I wanted to.” Harry Accio’ed their water bottle, and took a gulp without breaking his focus. “I got shit from every quarter just for talking to you. Just for being friendly. Ron was so bloody suspicious… My life would have been infinitely easier had I have not fallen in love with you. I just thought you were going to break my heart.”
Kiss With A Fist
Florence + The Machine
A kick to the teeth is good for some /A kiss with a fist is better then none.
“Break your heart?” Draco shook his head at that. Harry did tend to romanise those early few months terribly. “I wasn’t about to break your heart. There were a few times I wanted to break your bloody face though.”
“Like that Quidditch match?” Harry asked, squinting at a passing road-sign. Ottery St. Catchpole, 5 miles. The Burrow was still a while away and Draco felt grateful. It was rare that Harry and he actually took the time to just talk like this any more. Busy careers and twin boys did seem to have that effect.
The song changed and Draco listened once more. The lyrics here seemed rather apt too. I broke your jaw once before. I spilled your blood upon the floor. Nothing had come easily to Harry and he during that Eighth year. The pair of them had fought their burgeoning feelings every single day. Normally with their fists.
“Like that Quidditch match,” Draco agreed. “You remember the one? It was more like a bloody battle than a game. Slytherin won-”
“Only because you cheated!” Harry interjected, daring to pull his face from the road for just a second. “Admit it, you fiend. I know you did.”
“I may have cheated a little,” Draco admitted casually “but it was just a small Sticking Spell. The rain was bloody torrential that night… Some bastard had rubbed Slip-up Solution all over my broom. If I hadn’t have stuck myself to my broom I’d have fell to my undoubted death-”
“Still no excuse for cheating!” Harry cut in, though his words carried no real heat. “You know I’d have caught you if you’d have fallen, love-”
“I knew no such thing! We hadn’t admitted anything to each other at that point! The first I knew of your displeasure with me was when you punched me in the changing rooms! I was so bloody furious with you… If anything, I felt like my heart was broken.” Draco pointed his wand in Harry’s direction for emphasis. Even after all these years he felt his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “What was it you said? Same old Malfoy? I wanted to tell you that you were wrong- that I had changed- but I couldn’t find the words.”
Bad Boyfriend
Garbage
There´s something burning and rolling in me /We may not last but we´ll have fun till it ends / Come on baby, be my bad boyfriend.
“Hermione was livid with me about the punch,” Harry admitted. Draco could see that his husband’s cheeks were flushed a subtle pink too. “Ron had seen everything and was bragging about how you’d run away-”
“When really I just ran away to nurse my wounded pride!” Draco exclaimed. “Pansy had healed the bruise in two seconds flat-”
“Like I was saying: Ron was bragging about how I’d found you out; saying that you were the same Slytherin snake you’d always been. Well, ‘Mione wasn’t having that.” Harry paused, focussing on manoeuvring the Mercedes into a different lane before he spoke again. “She reminded us that we’d all had a bloody hard time during the War. You included. Told me that I had no right to be doling out punishments. Told me that I'd been an arsehole. So I came to find you.”
Behind Draco, Jamie stirred. Draco’s breath stuttered in his throat as he turned around and waited for his baby to cry out- Jamie suffered horrendous bad dreams- but Jamie didn’t. The tiny boy moved his head to the side and murmured, his chubby baby lips moving soundlessly.
Salazar. That Eighth year. Draco still remembered the moment that Harry had found him, closeted in a closed-up Charms classroom. It had been the moment that had changed the trajectory of the rest of their lives.
“You apologised,” Draco said simply, his eyes still focused on their sleeping babies. “And yes, I know I was a prize git about it. Told you that I never wanted to see you again... Told you to kindly piss off. You wouldn’t take the hint as I recall, Potter. So I decided that if you wouldn’t leave, I’d have to-”
“And I just couldn’t have you up and leave,” Harry said, giving Draco a little shake of his head and a smile. “I had to stop you somehow. So I kissed you. Still the best decision that I’ve ever made.”
It’d been a massive shock, when Harry had kissed him.
Harry’s lips had been drier, thinner than those of any person he’d kissed before and the rasp of Harry’s stubble had been rough against the still-sensitive skin of his jaw. Draco had thought that he ought to have known, really, that Harry would be a wonderful kisser.
Harry had kissed him slowly, exploring the shape of Draco’s mouth with his own, his tongue a darting tease. The memory was still so vivid. All around him Draco could hear were the words of the song: I want to hear you call out my name / I want to see you burn up in flames.
“And that was the day I asked to you to call me Draco, remember? Said any wizard that took that kind of liberty with me ought to at least use my given name.”
Playground Love
Air
You're the piece of gold / That flashes on my soul / Extra time, on the ground / You're my Playground Love.
For a long moment, Draco sat in silence, lost in his memories of those heady months after Harry has kissed him. Neither wizard had used the word couple or boyfriend but straight away both men had been captivated by the other.
November had turned to December and Draco had begun to feel strong enough to let his guard down. He’d allowed himself to catch feelings that he’d thought were lost to him forever.
“Do you remember that first Christmas?” Harry asked, making a smooth left past the sign announcing the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. They’d be with a dozen clamouring Weasleys within no time at all, Draco thought.
“Of course,” Draco replied. “When I stayed at school with you? Mother had gone to stay with Andromeda in France? I told her I didn’t want to face the Portkey Office while I was on Probation but really I just wanted to stay at Hogwarts with you. Wanted to be free to hold your hand without the world staring-”
“I think I was more interested in all those lazy lay-ins,” Harry said, smirking. “And being able to wake up beside you. Share presents with you on Christmas morning. You were so bloody pleased with that scarf that I’d brought you, I recall. It’s still in the back of our wardrobe.”
“No reason to get rid of a perfectly good Pygmy Puff fluff scarf,” Draco broke in, laughing. The road was rougher here as they started up the hill that approached The Burrow. Although his husband’s driving was excellent, Harry couldn’t avoid the potholes. For a moment Draco feared that their twins might wake. “I’ve still never felt anything quite so soft in my life. Besides, it was the first thing you’d ever given me that hadn’t left a scar! And, after breakfast we walked around the Lake?”
“And I kissed you under that Oak tree,” Harry said, as they approached the Burrow’s outer gate. The wards on the building recognised their magic signature and the gates swung open for them to drive through. “You’d forgotten your gloves, remember? You had too much pride to go back for them-”
“But you gave me one of yours-” Draco finished, marvelling that these memories were nearly a decade old. “And you curled your big, warm hand around mine, and told me that you wanted to look after me. That you wanted to have a future with me. Told me that we’d wasted too much time already.”
Lets Stay Together
Al Green
I, I'm I'm so in love with you / Whatever you want to do / Is all right with me / Cause you make me feel so brand new / And I want to spend my life with you.
The Burrow stood, tall and awkward before their car. Harry parked carefully and the pair of them sat together; lost in a haze of the past and the present, awash with all the love that still flowed so strongly between the pair of them.
“And we didn’t waste any more time,” whispered Draco, taking hold of Harry’s hand. The words of the songs filled the car: Lovin' you whether, whether / Times are good or bad, happy or sad. “We’ve been together ever since that day, Harry. I know that people didn’t think we’d last. Didn’t even trust that we’d manage a year.
“Well. We made sure to invite all of those people to our wedding,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around Draco’s shoulders and finding Draco’s lips with his own.
Merlin, Draco thought, melting into the kiss. Harry’s snogs were as perfectly wonderful as they’d ever been. Draco decided he’d quite like to sit there forever and so he made a small rumble of disappointment when finally Harry broke their embrace. Their babies were stirring and Draco’s Silencing Spell had broken.
“You’re the love of my life, Harry. We were blessed to have found each when we were young,” Draco finished. “Nearly ten years, already.”
There was more that Draco would have like to have said. Draco wished he could have told Harry that he adored the life that he’d been gifted. Wished he could have told Harry that theirs was a love that exceeded his every dream, but their small moment had ended.
Suddenly Scorpius and Jamie were awake, and a dozen Weasleys were surrounding them, bearing gingerbread wine, mince pies and enchanted mistletoe. Suddenly everything was family, noise and joyous celebration.
“I love you, Draco,” Harry murmured, learning over to brush his lips over Draco’s hair. “Happy Christmas.”