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Harry hated all forms of Wizarding travel because they were all inexplicably uncomfortable despite their supposed convenience. He could use them without complaining, but the hatred burned brighter within him with each new use. The absolute bane of his existence, though, were international portkeys.
Not only did they feel like you were put through a blender, but they were also irregular, expensive, and required an extensive application process and check-ins. Harry’s never been on a muggle plane but from what he heard, the experiences were very similar.
So, because the universe hated him, he frequently got sent abroad, furthering international relations with foreign Auror departments, and catching the leftover Death Eaters days at a time, all while dreading the portkeys home more than the potential duels he might come across.
He had just come back home from one such operation in Chile and was moving through a line slower than a snail to get his luggage and person checked before they could release him into the wild. Just as he cursed the man in front of him for refusing to be cooperative with the operator at their station, his eyes caught someone familiar waiting on the other side of the wide room.
Draco.
His focus instantly shifted to his husband who saw him looking and waved with a huge smile. Harry copied him and would’ve gladly kept waving for hours if someone behind him didn’t clear their throat loudly. It was his turn. Finally.
He rushed through the check-ins, almost forgetting to pick up his bag from the station in his hurry and was running towards the other side of the room faster than you can say Quidditch.
He crashed into Draco’s body, hugging him tightly, immensely grateful that Draco had managed to keep them standing.
“There’s nothing I love more than running back into your arms,” He muttered and then pulled back just enough to kiss his husband, desperate for comfort and for home.
“I missed you,” Draco said when they separated, following his statement with another peck to Harry’s lips.
“I missed you too. Being away sucks,” Harry pouted.
“But you’re back now,” Draco smiled and hugged him again. “Are you injured?”
“No, we didn’t find anyone,” Harry told him. “It was the most unsuccessful stakeout ever. I hate every minute of it.”
“That’s too bad.”
Harry nodded and kissed him once more, savouring the taste before someone came to yell at them for public indecency. “Take me home?”
Draco chuckled softly but nodded, a fond smile pulling at his lips. “Always.”