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“You’ve got something from your cousin!” a voice called up the stairs of Grimmauld Place to Harry, who was still in the twilight between sleep and consciousness. “I’m not quite sure what it is – it doesn’t look like normal!”
Harry had never quite been a morning person, which he attributed to many years just having to get sleep whenever he could. Unfortunately, he now lived with someone who got jittery staying in bed past 7am, but at least fresh coffee - he needed stronger than tea at that ungodly hour - was always available by the time Harry made it downstairs. It was a Saturday, but he’d been told they had a lot to get done before poppingf off to Ron and Hermione’s for afternoon tea. So, he grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, dragged himself out of bed - idly noticing his hair was more untamed than usual as he walked past the mirror. He stuffed his feet into his favorite polka-dot slippers, threw his robe on over his t-shirt and boxers, and headed down the stairs to start his day.
Draco was busy in the kitchen, making eggs by hand for the two of them, his mug half full of tea but at perfect temperature via his favorite warming charm, as he’d been working on it for the last half hour as he read both the Daily Mail and the Daily Prophet, catching up on the happenings of both worlds. He’d already fully dressed in his sharp black trousers, lovely pale red dress shirt that was Harry’s favorite, and patterned grey-scale waistcoat. Harry sighed heavily, painfully aware of his own current appearance, and how unbelievably lucky he was to call this perfect specimen his own. He hadn’t realized this awful juxtaposition before Draco had even moved in, but it was made easier by how much Draco loved Harry’s comfy morning look. Harry caught him from behind giving him a small hug and a peck on his cheek as he went over to the muggle coffee pot to pour himself a cup.
Harry smiled at how comfortable Draco had become in this space, and even how he sometimes preferred doing things the muggle way - like his eggs - after getting used to Harry’s ways. He could remember the first time Draco had come over, deeply confused by the amount of muggle doodads throughout the house, showing great concern over how Harry could possibly produce a proper cuppa. He’d adapted quickly, seeing Harry’s comfort in having muggle appliances that he’d known how to use from a young age. At first learning why Harry was so adept at these items had boiled Draco’s blood; he’d basically slaved away for the Dursleys without receiving any appreciation or thanks, only punishments when they felt he’d messed up, or when they just thought he didn’t deserve to eat. Learning that they hadn’t even said his name was a whole other insult, and Draco had yelled that Harry should never have any contact with those people again, as he’d deserved so much more. But as Harry had explained his relationship with Dudley in adulthood, Draco had cooled down, appreciating the similarities between Harry’s cousin and himself, that he and Dudley alike realized their faults and the pain and trouble they had caused Harry; they’d repented, changed their ways, and made it up to him.
Harry sat at the kitchen island, turning the Prophet to the sports section to see how Ginny’s last match had turned out. He frowned - they’d won but the game had ended in 20 minutes, that couldn’t have been very much fun for the audience or players in the other positions. Ginny had probably seen the snitch and had to snatch the opportunity. Draco placed a plate of eggs in front of Harry, kissing his forehead and pulling a warm smile back onto Harry’s face, then settled back into his spot with his own breakfast.
“You heard me, right? About the letter thing from Dudley?” Draco slid the envelope along the counter to Harry, eager to know what it was, “Why is it different this time?”
Normally, Harry and Dudley sent letters written longhand on lined notebook paper, stuffed into normal letter-sized envelopes. This was clearly not that and Harry smiled at Draco’s curiosity, “It’s not a letter,” he stated, using his wand as a letter opener.
This always irked Draco who thought the holly wand was precious and to be protected, so much so that he’d gifted Harry a letter opener made of beautiful colored glass from Harry’s favorite muggle bookstore last Christmas. Unfortunately, that stayed up in his office and thus was not currently at hand. Normally Draco would make a comment on this act - how he could have just summoned it from the room upstairs, but he seemed too focused on the contents to make a jab in this precise moment. Harry pulled out a thick piece of cardstock noting how his was definitely not Dudley’s writing and looked back to the envelope which had actually been addressed to “Harry Potter and Honored Guest.”
“It’s a Save the Date” Harry said, showing it to Draco briefly, “They’ve finally set a wedding date for September, and we’re both invited.” Draco’s mouth popped open slightly as he looked at this clearly foreign object, then back to Harry.
“I’m invited?” Draco asked, looking a little abashed. He’d never met Dudley or Harry’s relatives and certainly had never been to a muggle wedding.
“Of course!” Harry grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze, before standing up to physically place the card on the fridge, “Though technically it was addressed to ‘Harry Potter and Honored Guest.’”
“Uh huh,” Draco turned on his chair, following Harry with sharp eyes, “And why is that again?”
“Well,” Harry tried his best to order his thoughts in his mind, though he had realized long ago that this wasn’t a good explanation, “When we first got together, I didn’t know how he’d react to the whole ‘two-men-one-relationship thing -’”
“- Right, and I get that, but you’d told him about Ginny and Luna before their wedding, and we went to that together,” Draco cut in, but his voice was calm. “Harry, I love you, but it’s been almost two years, and we live together,” Draco’s voice wasn’t getting harsher, but it started to sound sad. Harry knew this was a sore subject, especially since Harry had told all his friends and chosen family after a few months, and Draco had come out to his mum before they’d moved in together last year. In fact, basically anyone in the wizarding world could figure it out pretty easily by now, they weren’t exactly hiding it, even if somehow none of the news sources had caught wind of it yet.
Harry was still facing the fridge, but turned towards Draco, avoiding eye contact, running his hand through his already insane curls, “It’s just, our relationship was still so new when I tested the waters telling him about Ginny and Luna, that I didn’t want to jinx it. Plus I hadn’t even told Ron and Hermione yet so all of my stories about you had been very vague regarding who I’d spent the time with. I’d already been in such a habit of sharing the whats and the whens of my life without the who, that I couldn’t figure out how to properly slip that in, and eventually I’d been doing it for so long I felt I’d dug myself so deep that I just don’t know how to say ‘Oh yeah, remember how I mentioned having an absolutely amazing holiday to Crete? Yeah, that was with my boyfriend Draco, boyhood arch-rival turned love of my life, and we snogged constantly.’” He dragged his hand down his cheek before dropping it, and finally met Draco’s gaze, which was soft along with his small smile.
Draco stood up and took both of Harry’s hands in his own, stooping slightly so that their eyes were exactly matched, “Love of your life?” he mused gently. Harry could feel the flush burning across his cheeks and had to look away.
“Shut up, you already know that,” Harry protested but dropped his head onto Draco’s shoulder and hugged him around his middle.
Draco stood fully, tucking his chin on top of Harry’s head, one hand sunk into Harry’s curls, the other, pulling him closer into the hug. He chuckled lightly, “Still nice to hear…”
Harry leaned back and Draco loosened his grip, letting Harry look him in his eyes, “I love you, you idiot,” he’d tried to sound annoyed but between the blush and the corner of his lips disobeying his scowl, Draco knew better.
“Bloody Merlin Harry,” Draco released Harry completely, leaning his back against the island, gripping the countertop for support. “I had all these plans, it was going to be so perfect, and you have to be so you, so adorably, uncontrollably you, making me want to ‘fuck all.’” Draco let out a small groan. Harry clearly had no idea what he was talking about, but Draco’s resolve to follow through the day as he had painstakingly set it up was breaking down the more he looked at him. His goofy raven curls, even more wild than usual after last night’s activities and a full night of sleep, poofing out terribly in one direction. Draco so appreciated Harry’s chiseled, muscular body somehow still so well defined under the stretch of this t-shirt, his always present dark stubble accentuating his strong jaw against his bronze skin. And he absolutely adored being the only one to see all this contradicted as he stood in his soft fluffy grey robe and pink polka-dot slippers. “Circe.” He looked away, clearly trying to retain any remaining willpower, and Harry, deciding Draco obviously needed help, went back to his seat to eat his eggs, shaking Draco out of his conundrum, so he too returned to his breakfast.
They finished in silence, and Harry went up to shower and get ready before he and Draco started on the apparently meticulously planned list of items Draco had curated for the day and told Harry nothing about. He could’ve sworn he’d heard the floo just before he turned on the water, but by the time he shut it off all he could hear was Draco pacing in the hall. “Oh come on,” Harry quickly toweled his body before wrapping it around his waist, magically dried his hair so it wouldn't take 3 bloody hours, grabbed his glasses from the vanity shoving them onto his face, and yanked the door open, apparently surprising Draco as he stopped mid-step to stare. “What is it? What are you on about?” Harry snapped, walking across the way to their bedroom to change and finding three outfits laid out for him on the bed. This was terribly unusual. “Um… what?” was all he could manage, gesturing to the clothing.
Draco had followed him into the room, standing next to the choices and clearly uncomfortable. “I couldn’t decide, I tried to call Pansy but of course she’d already gone so I tried Hermione but could only get Ron and I couldn’t bloody well ask him but I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach Luna so here, three choices, pick one.”
Now, Harry would have understood this, had they been going to say, a charity event, or something where the Prophet would be taking pictures, where Draco would want Harry to look his best so he’d select a pairing for each of Harry’s formal robes and smartest muggle suits to lay out his options in no uncertain terms, and honestly Harry usually chose the one that looked the most comfortable. But here… Harry picked up two of the shirts that were laid out, they were just normal t-shirts Harry often wore. He supposed one of them was a pale red and the other grey, and he looked down and saw a green one as well, but these were t-shirts - shirts Harry wore every day. Nothing special muggle made cotton shirts.
Harry raised one eyebrow and looked back up to Draco, “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but these are all my normal clothes, yeah?” Draco nodded, “Okay, and as far as I’m aware, we have a bunch of errands to run then head to the cottage for tea time with ‘Mione and Ron?” Draco nodded again. “Alright, so why, in bloody hell, do I have outfits made out of my normal clothes waiting for me to choose from?”
Draco made an awkward noise, clearly trying to think the best way to explain, and finally walked over to the bed to explain his selections, “I just think the grey looks best with your jeans, and the green brings out your eyes so well and obviously goes with your dark khakis, but you’re such a Gryffindor most of your wardrobe is red so I felt like that had to be an option and that goes well with your charcoal chinos.” Draco clearly thought this was a very thorough and clear explanation but Harry still had no idea what was going on.
“But what if I want to wear red with jeans?” Harry attempted, he really didn’t care but sometimes Draco’s reactions were meaningful.
“I mean” he looked between Harry and the clothes, a small frown on his face, “That is definitely something you are welcome to do.” He tried to smile. Harry shook his head exasperated, and pushed Draco out of the room spitting “I’m a grown man I can bloody well dress myself in my own clothes.” and closed the door behind Draco, locking the muggle lock out of spite even though it was effectively useless with a wizard boyfriend. He walked back to the bed. This was a stupid situation. He was tempted to wear the red with the jeans out of spite, but Drago had said the green looks good with his eyes…
Five minutes later Harry walked down the stairs, disgruntled, but dressed in the green shirt, dark khakis, and mismatched vibrant striped socks. Socks were not an item Draco could fight him on, as this was a trait he’d picked up from Dobby, but Harry didn’t know that Draco found it completely endearing. Draco was already sitting on the sofa, having slipped on his oxfords and seemingly trying to calm himself down, covering his eyes as he used two fingers to rub his temples, which seemed to be slightly pink. He was being ridiculous, but apparently this was important to him so Harry asked “Are my normal white trainers okay?” as he walked to the closet. Draco gave his assent as if it was obvious, without moving. Harry opened the closet, but something was terribly, terribly wrong. “Fuck!” He dropped to the ground seeing the shoes now perfectly organized in a closet system, with his trusty trainers looking absolutely spotless.
“Everything alright?” Draco asked, shifting on the sofa.
“Er, did you go through the shoe closet?” Harry asked, grabbing his trainers and finding them completely empty. Fuck.
“I’d asked Kreacher to clean your trainers, er, all our shoes and organize them. Are you having a hard time finding them?”
“No, no! They’re right here.” Harry slipped them on quickly. “Er, one moment, I think I forgot to brush my teeth.” Harry sprinted up the stairs into the bathroom, shutting the door. “Kreacher!” he whispered in a panic.
Kreacher appeared out of thin air, confused by the setting, but responding anyway “Is Master Potter needing me?”
Harry took a deep breath, “Draco said you cleaned and organized the shoes, did you, um, happen across a small wooden box that I had, um, misplaced in my trainers?” He knew his face was frantic even though he was trying to control his voice.
Kreacher eyed him suspiciously, “Does Master Potter refer to the ring box that Master Potter has been placing in hiding places around the house for six months?”
Exasperated, Harry relented, of course Kreacher knew exactly what he was doing, had been aware the whole time, “Yes that.”
Kreacher smiled, “Kreacher has taken it upon himself to hide the ring box where Master Malfoy would not find it, as Kreacher assumed that was Master Potter’s intent.”
“Thank Merlin, can I have it?” Harry asked. Kreacher snapped his fingers and the thin box placed itself in Harry’s pocket. He reached in to confirm the presence of the red mahogany box and smiled to himself, feeling oddly reminiscent in the action. “Thanks Kreacher.”
“If Kreacher might say, Master Potter,” Kreacher started, Harry nodded for him to continue, “It is not Kreacher’s place, but Master Potter should do with that as is intended, instead of Master Potter carrying it around every day and hiding it every night.”
Harry’s smile strained and he gave a quick nod again, just before Kreacher disapparated. “If only it was that easy,” Harry whispered to only himself before shoving the box deep in his pocket and jogging back down the stairs.
***
Their first stop was the Farmer’s Market, which Draco had become obsessed with early on after moving into Grimmauld Place. He insisted all their eggs be bought from Gavin’s stand, as they “made superior muggle omelets,” though he was careful not to say this in front of anyone but Harry. Draco had even enchanted a normal reusable grocery bag with a variant of an extension charm that not only kept the bag light, but that kept everything placed into it at the exact temperature it best kept at.
Next they stopped at Harry’s favorite bookstore, and Harry wandered off as always to peruse his favorite section - the secondhand area. He loved the idea of books changing hands over time, and preferred it over buying new whenever possible. He’d grabbed a stack and read a few pages in each, settling into his favorite comfy armchair by the large window, while Draco talked enthusiastically with the shopkeeper. He settled on his two favorites, joined them at the desk - not missing that their conversation had seemed to quickly change tone when he’d gotten within earshot. They purchased the books and they too went into the enchanted bag.
When Draco suggested they get takeaway and have a picnic Harry was surprised. He supposed they had time but that didn’t seem to fit into Draco’s definition of errands, of which he was normally a stickler. Harry suggested a few restaurants and they settled on their favorite sushi, that also supplied chopsticks and for some reason fortune cookies. He had meant to ask where they were headed after they picked up their food, but Draco was walking with determination, clasping Harry’s hand and guiding him silently to his intended destination. He made a quick turn down an alley and immediately apparated them to the summer cottage. Harry had never been here this early in the summer, but it was beautiful, the magnolia trees around the pond in full bloom, the water reflecting the bright blue sky with very few clouds - all of which were white and fluffy and would be refreshing to fly through. The garden near the cottage was beautifully overgrown with the wildflowers that also surrounded the edge of the pond, and popped up sporadically across the warm grasses. As Harry admired their surroundings Draco had apparently beelined for a spot on the grass underneath the magnolia tree closest to the water. He’d already pulled out a blanket from the grocery bag and spread it across the ground, divided up the sushi and chopsticks, and was pouring champagne into actual flutes when Harry arrived at the gingham linen.
“Champagne?” Harry inquired, but extended his hand out to receive a flute from Draco, surprised that it was perfectly chilled even though he knew he shouldn’t be.
“I know you’re quite aware that it pairs excellently with the soy sauce,” Draco said as he placed his glass on the ground, “Plus I’ve charmed the glasses so they don’t fall over,” he demonstrated by attempting to push the glass over, but it wouldn’t budge while the bottom was on the ground, when he grasped the stem he could pick it up again easily.
“Smart,” Harry quipped, sitting down to dig into his lunch.
They didn’t speak much while they ate, both wrapped up in the beauty and tranquility that surrounded them, and enjoying this time spent with each other. This really was a fantastic idea, and Harry was glad Draco had thought of it. Of course, in the back of his mind he was suspicious that this was always part of his plan, not spur of the moment; he knew Draco well; if they had as packed of a schedule as Draco had implied, it would cause him great anxiety to stray from the plan, especially for something as unproductive and time consuming as a picnic on a nice day. For now Harry tried to place a name to the feeling this ambiance provided. He’d toed off his shoes to enjoy the slight breeze after they’d both finished eating, and had laid back, propping himself on his elbows to relax while still taking in the view. Draco had been mirroring the exact same position, but when Harry heard a faint “ping” noise, Draco suddenly popped up to retrieve the grocery bag again.
“What are you doing?” Harry leaned his head back to watch Draco.
Draco kneeled and pulled something out of the bag, tilting it to show Harry, “Time for dessert?” In Draco’s arms was the most delicious looking treacle tart Harry had ever seen, still steaming slightly as though it had just finished baking, and Harry gasped, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Harry rolled over onto his stomach, supporting himself on his forearms, “Am I dreaming? That looks just like the fantastic ones they served at Madam Puddifort’s Tea Shop!” He could remember the delicate sweet flavors, the pleasant texture, the way the enchanted cream didn’t melt even though the tart was warm when served.
“Well, that’s because it is,” Draco replied beaming, clearly proud of himself, “I had ordered it and had them send it right to my bag when it was ready - did you hear their bell?”
Harry laid there, truly astonished. This was his absolute favorite indulgence in the world, and Draco had clearly planned this all out for him. “Marry me,” Harry heard himself say.
“What?” Draco asked, still beaming, but his eyes seemed to have dimmed slightly.
Harry pulled himself up to his knees directly in front of Draco, sliding the ring box out of his pocket and open in his palm in one smooth movement. “Marry me, Draco,” he breathed. Excited nerves raced through his body and he knew he was smiling like a fool but he prayed to Merlin his magic wasn’t making him glow as he was overly emotional, “Please.”
Draco’s face fell and he lowered the treacle tart, looking down and emitting what Harry could only describe as a small tense laugh.
“Oh no…” Harry got to his feet, closing the box and grasping it in his fist as he paced away from the blanket, thoughts running a mile a minute, “I shouldn’t have… I thought… and this was wonderful… and I fucked it up… I always bloody fuck things up…” he was muttering to himself as he paced and paced. He couldn’t spare himself a glance in Draco’s direction though he was vaguely aware that Draco had called his name; he was too close to crumbling and he couldn’t risk it.
“Hey!” Draco caught and tugged on Harry’s hand, effectively snapping him out of it. He was so close, Harry looked at his hand in Draco’s and gathered the will and the strength to look up to his eyes, which were shining like he’d never seen before. The corners were pink and slightly puffy and he could see tears waiting to fall, but his lips held the most dazzling smile Harry had ever seen.
“...what…” Harry breathed, shaking with nerves as Draco let out a small chuckle.
“You and your stupid Gryffindor ways, spontaneous and brave and ruining all my hard work with your impulsiveness and beating me to it, honestly why do I try,” he exaggerated his eye roll with his head before dropping to one knee, still holding Harry’s hand, and reached into his pocket, “Harry, will you -”
“YES!” Harry had dropped to his knees to be eye level with Draco, “Yes!”
“I haven’t even,” Draco tried.
“But my answer is yes!” Harry kissed Draco’s dumbfounded and slightly irritated face and it took the blond a moment to regain his bearings.
“Now wait a second Harry!” he said sharply, letting go of Harry’s hand to rub between his eyes, “Let me bloody ask the question!” Harry sat back on his heels, understanding that this was important for some reason, as he heard Draco mumble “Had to be a bloody Gryffindor didn’t it." He pulled a small glass box from his pocket and cleared his throat. He turned his full attention and gaze back on Harry, who could not help but beam at him in response, “Harry James Potter, you have done so much for the world, you have helped so many people, as The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, The Savior, and I don’t give a single shite about that,” Harry snorted, “The Harry I care about, I know to be the single person in the world who is truly good. You are selfless and kind, and charming, and brave, and honestly a spectacular lay,” Draco laughed, clearly using humor to try and keep the tears from falling,” You have always seen me as someone worthy of your time, worthy of your thoughts, good or bad. You have done everything to not only give me a true chance, but a true shot at whatever life I want, and you are the life I want. I want nothing more than to spend my life with you, and I suppose call myself your husband.” The tears started falling now, “Harry, my brash Gryffindor, the love of my life, will you marry me?” He opened the box to reveal an elegant gold band with three inlaid red rubies, and waited, filled with anticipation. He realized Harry was trying to make sure it was okay to speak, so he nodded, laughing even more.
“Yes! Draco, yes! Of course!” Harry kissed him firmly, pulling back and joining in the gleeful laughter. He opened the mahogany box he'd still held in his hand, offering Draco the almost identical ring Harry had chosen for him - an elegant white gold band, with three inlaid emeralds. Draco gasped and then shook his head upon realizing they match.
“Left hand” Draco demanded taking the gold ring and slipping it onto Harry’s ring finger, it was a perfect fit, and felt right. For a second they both admired the way it caught the sunlight, until Draco cleared his throat, offering Harry his left hand.
“Oh, right,” Harry smirked, taking the delicate silver ring from his box and placing it on Draco’s ring finger, releasing a sigh of relief that it fit. Draco attempted to admire it for a second but found himself tackled backwards. Harry had one hand behind his neck and one at his waist, making sure he landed softly on the grass. Harry kissed him passionately - which, to be fair, is how he did most things. His lips were eager and Draco could only comply, letting his lips part so he could taste the fever in their kiss. He could feel the fire along every inch of Harry that laid on top of him, and he reveled in it. But when he started to feel Harry tug at his shirt to untuck it and slide his hand on Draco’s smooth ivory skin, he knew they had to stop.
He gently pushed Harry away, taking in as much breath as he could to settle himself down. He could see the want in Harry’s eyes but they didn’t have time for this at the moment, so he’d have to ignore it, “We don’t have much time, and if you don’t eat some of that delicious treacle tart while it’s still warm, after I put so much effort into getting everything perfectly timed, so help me I will throw it in the pond.”
Harry laughed but bounded up all the same to comply, and pulled Draco up with him. Harry grabbed the two forks Draco had already set out, handing one to his fiancé, sat on the blanket, and dug into the tart straight from the pan.
Draco rolled his eyes, “Bloody uncultured Gryffindor,” which only made Harry smile, showing a mouthful of tart, to which Draco couldn’t help but laugh. He gracefully sat next to Harry, taking some small bites of dessert, enjoying his fiancé's enthusiasm. When Draco had had his fill, he decided to get a good look at his ring. It was so similar to the one he’d purchased, just different colored gold, and different gems. But the setting was so expertly inlaid. “Is this, Goblin made?”
Harry stopped eating and his face fell slightly. He put down the tart and fork, wiped his mouth on the inside of his shirt, and clasped his hands together. “Sorry, no,” he said, “I know they are the best craftsmen but I just couldn’t conscientiously do that knowing how their laws of ownership work.”
Draco smiled, this was the exact reason he had chosen not to go that route for Harry’s ring. “Don’t worry, yours isn’t either. It’ll be yours as long as you want it, and then up to you to decide what happens to it after that.” Harry’s gracious smile was soft but captivating.
He held his hand close to his chest as he gazed at his ring, fidgeting with it, when he was suddenly struck by a thought, “Draco, where did you get this ring?”
Draco laughed, he was sure Harry would love this, “Well honestly I didn’t know where to go - all the places my family went to were goblin sourced. But I knew that was important to you so I asked Hermione with all her activism dedicated to ethical, moral, and just causes and she recommended the same place she had dropped all the not so subtle hints to Ron to go to for her ring - Houghety’s Exquisities. Sounds super kitsch and naff but they’re actually superb! They’re based out of -”
“-Luxemburg,” Harry had finished Draco’s sentence beaming. “I’d asked Ron for advice and he’d told me where he went to for Hermione’s. Said she had left a bunch of research around the cabin when she knew he started looking, and it really was the best option.”
Draco smiled, “Of course, well, that explains why we match.” He looked up at the sky and realized the sun was no longer where he thought it should be. He looked at his watch quickly, they were going to be late. “Speaking of Ron and Hermione,” he said standing up and lending Harry a hand to help him up as well, “We’re officially late to our surprise engagement party.” Harry laughed, pulling out his wand and with one swift flick had returned everything they’d brought back into the grocery bag.
“So sure I’d say yes?” Harry joked as he slipped back into his trainers.
Draco grabbed his hand, “We’re a sure thing,” Draco affirmed, squeezing Harry’s hand in his, then apparating to the Granger-Weasley’s familiar quaint cottage that was now overrun with all of their friends.