Work Text:
"We can always elope. It's not too late yet."
Harry thinks that's arguable, seeing as he's here in his fancy robes, holding a set of carefully wrapped, silver goblets on one hand and Draco's arm in another.
"I think we were past eloping when you gave me those horri--" Harry falters at the raised eyebrow and quickly backtracks, "Er, interesting cutlery. At least the book said so."
Draco scrunches his nose. "My father picked those out."
"I'm not going to be poisoned if I use them, am I?"
A portrait to his right splutters indignantly at the accusation, and Harry ignores the urge to stick his tongue out. He's gotten better at ignoring the Malfoy ancestors and their blatant disapproval of him.
Draco gives him an odd look. "Why on earth would you even want to use them?"
"Er."
"If I see those anywhere near our kitchen table, I will bite you. And not in a pleasant way."
Harry grins as he's pulled along. He has no problem having Draco's mouth on him, but that's a thought for later. They've another archaic courtship ritual to attend after all.