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Draco leaned back on his sofa with a groan, spreading his legs to release the tension he had built up on his back. He had been leaning over the coffee table for a while, consulting the last details for his marriage taking place in a few weeks.
The idea that he was getting married was a feat on itself – but the fact that he was marrying one of the most – if not the most – sought out bachelor in the Wizarding World was even better.
Draco always knew he was going to marry at some point. Not only had it been a duty for his family to carry out the bloodline but also, he always envisioned himself to be with a gorgeous curvy woman with elegant hands and soft voice, who would always be at his disposal, who would cook for him, clean his house and do what he demands without questioning him. He had always fantasized about a partner whose sole existence was for his own selfish pleasure while he retains his freedom to do whatever he wishes. His woman was to be slighter and smaller than him, obedient, always smiling and ready for him…
Nevertheless, Draco always knew he was destined to marry. As he became older and gained experience, his wish festered.
And today, looking at the marriage contract on the table ready to be signed by his civil partner – current fiancé and future husband – he knew he had accomplished his wish.
Harry was, obviously, not a woman – Draco can attest to it clearly – but he was everything he had looked for…just…probably mouthier, more principled and too attached to his individual freedom than he expected.
Objectively, Harry was a handsome wizard. Both men and women, regardless of their preference turned their head at the sight of him and the little stroll he and Harry decided to have in Notting Hill every Saturday night was proof that people didn’t just look at him or catcall him because he was the Saviour. With his jet-black hair forming a cowlick on top of his head, his almond-shaped startling green eyes, small nose, arched brow and pale skin, he was a sight to behold. Especially since Draco had forced him to attend luxurious beauty salons every morning and night for a self-care routine, his skin was glowing like glass. And no, Draco wasn’t going to talk about how he had once seethed with jealousy when Harry achieved the goal of perfect skin with minimal effort while he had consulted experts and was gifted expensive products for years to get to the same result.
Perhaps he had envisioned someone with more meat on their body, but this never bothered Draco. He liked that Harry could bruise easily and he loved leaving purplish mark on his scrawny body whenever he could get away with it. Harry’s stamina and flexibility of a cat had improved since he joined the Aurors and Draco was thankful for that because he needed someone strong enough to keep up with the ‘perverted mindset’ of his as Harry jokes.
Despite Harry growing tall during his puberty, Draco had those noticeable inches over him which he always used against him. And since he had thrown himself into a career of Quidditch player as a chaser for Puddlemore United, his upper body was well sculpted, enough to entrap his favourite Auror in a corner of the Ministry for example.
Harry always denies him though, something about remaining professional at work. And that was another point about him. Harry had always made him work for what he wanted. The pre-war Draco would have sneered at the idea of lifting a finger for someone else but the reformed man he today is, is willing to bow down to his lover’s wish. Whether it was to get his approval on buying scandalously expensive and useless artefacts or just to get a kiss, Draco had been kept on his toes with his wild imagination to get him to pave. Seduction and requests were his daily quests, and he never would get tired of coaxing them out of Harry.
And when Draco was being unreasonable – and no Harry is definitively lying when he says he always is – he would be put back on his place with a scold that shouldn’t make him hot and bothered but it did. Harry doesn’t just content himself with sharp words, oh no. He dares to ignore Draco afterwards – the little brat – like he ignored him at school and pretended he didn’t exist. One time, he had pissed him off so bad, Harry had straight up refused to cook for him and Draco had almost burnt his lover’s kitchen down in an attempt to sooth his glutton stomach. The look on Harry’s face when he had discovered the mess still haunts his nightmare.
It's not like Harry doesn’t know the effect he has on Draco. Because he noticed that when Harry wants something from him, he would always stare deep into his eyes and Draco would immediately find his resolve crumpling. He knew because he had also noticed when Harry was displeased with him he would throw him such an intense glare, Draco always fought the Pavlovian urge to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness.
The wanker sitting next to him used those tricks against him while being perfectly aware of what he was doing. Draco is sure…he just can’t prove it.
He doesn’t know what happened to him. Potter must have cursed him at some point because he wasn’t supposed to be like this. He, Draco Malfoy, heir of an old, noble and wealthy family with a linear of magic-born people, couldn’t have stoop so low. It was unthinkable that a man displaying beautiful grace such as himself would find himself wrapped around the bony finger of his partner. It was unimaginable that his mind would be constantly occupied with sight of a bright smile and doe eyes – whether he’s on the field or drinking in a pub with his colleagues and friends.
When he had pursued the ambition of restoring his family name from the ash the war had burned it to years ago, he hadn’t imagined things to turn out like this.
And worst of all? He doesn’t even regret it one bit. On the contrary…he hates to admit the fact that he had always been obsessed with the dynamic he had with Potter and now that things are more romantic between them, he knew he would never get out of this comfort. And he doesn’t want to.
Harry stretched his back, wincing as his shoulders cracked. He leaned back against the sofa next to Draco. Then, he tilted his head back, displaying his bare throat which looked soft under the dark yellowish light next to him. He was clearly provoking Draco to lean down and sink his teeth onto the delicious flesh...
“Now we just need to wait until Friday to sign it with our solicitors, right?” he asked with a tired voice.
Draco hummed in confirmation, a smile tugging on his lips. Since Draco had proposed two years ago, they had been working on and off with their respective lawyers to draft a contract for their marriage. Almost all Pureblood families create a contract to manage their union and lower disagreement which in return, increases the lifespan of the marriage. However, formulating such a document is beyond most commoners reach. It requires great knowledge in Magical English Law and a good fortune. Nothing Draco Malfoy couldn’t achieve of course.
He is proud of the terms they have agreed upon. As a Malfoy gentlemen, he never would have agreed for less. The biggest issue has been to convince his partner to go along with his family’s tradition. Harry had been fine to transfer the payment of his dowry into their joint bank account for their family and future children. He hadn’t made a fuss to deposit his valuable goods in their safe-deposit box and share the ownership title of Grimmauld Place with him. Draco had expected that, since he knew Harry was a naturally generous person. However, he had strictly refused for any bride (husband?) price and service. He had claimed it was absurd and outdated, but this was a tradition of his family and Draco was quite attached to it. After months of probing, begging and losing his dignity, his lover had doubled back. Since Harry’s only blood relatives were the Dursleys and both agreed that except for a curse, they didn’t deserve a single galleon from him – he had settled upon transferring a large sum of money to his partner’s Gringotts account along with some shares he possessed in a French and Chinese company and he had also transferred the legal title of the isle on the Mediterranean coast as a dower into his asset. Harry had said it was too much, but Draco had been resolute. His partner now likes to pretend as if he hasn’t been granted those securities.
Another issue they had argued upon was their permanent residence. Traditionally, the Malfoy spouse would reside in the Manor, but Harry had vehemently refused to put a foot down there. He knew the relationship between his partner and parents were strained and despite being with him for nearly six years it hadn’t improved much. Draco had always raised an eyebrow at his mother when she would present him a Pureblood woman and the fact that his parents are going out of their way to invite pureblood foreigners to their extravagant parties in the hope that Draco would let Harry go was a clear sign of their despair on the situation and disapproval of his choice of partner. His father wasn’t any better. He always complained about the Ministry’s tax policy as if it was Harry’s fault and threw subtle jabs at Harry’s halfbloodness and lack of proper upbringing. Draco was convinced that if he wasn’t in the room to supervise them, one of them would come out dead.
Draco hadn’t wanted to give up this tradition, however, firmly believing that if they had a child together, his parents would surely warm up, but Harry had refused to hear him. And since Harry had made efforts to indulge him with all his demands, Draco had accepted this defeat – but on his own term. So, they had decided to settle in a small villa in the southeast of England near the sea as Harry had always dreamed to do. For some inexplicable reason, Draco had also fell in love with the idea of living in such a small place, which was odd considering he spent his childhood in an enormous labyrinth-like house.
Both had agreed that neither was expected to work – since their combined fortune was enough for a comfortable lifetime – but Harry, being the workaholic madman he was, hated the idea of not contributing to society by paying for it with his life – the reckless fool – and insisted that he would work until at least they had their first child. Draco knew Harry wouldn’t give up on his dream job for anything – but he could make concession for his deepest desire of having a family. He would probably take a leave of absence. Draco had giving him a duplicated key of his vault for him to use in case he changes his mind.
Harry had said that he was being fussy and spoiling him, but Draco knew differently. After all, Harry had forbidden him to enter the kitchen after the little disaster and had taken upon himself to cook for the both of us every day. And cook, he did well. His skill had improved over the years and Draco would almost salivate every time he would come back from his training with muscles aching but smelling the delicious dish Harry had prepared that day. As for the cleaning, Harry had confided to him that it was oddly therapeutic to do it and hadn’t refused Draco’s potential help. Yes, potential. Because since he had been born, it has always been house-elves who would iron his clothes and tidy his room so Draco’s knowledge about house cleaning was close to nil. Harry had started to teach him a few things, but he had been way too distracted by his light voice to listen properly. At least, Harry wasn’t totally against house-elf though he insisted on paying their own house-elf Bitsy whenever they inquired his service.
Apart from all of that, that huge file resting on the brown coffee table in front of him was a promise of the future they drafted together. They even agreed upon the name of their children depending on the sex. His former self would have cursed him at being so loose as to negotiate for such a matter and not dominant enough to impose his vision.
However, Draco now knows that when it comes to Potter, it’s best if he throws all his expectations out of the window if he wants to have the upper hand.
Overall, Draco was pretty satisfied with the outcome. On Friday, just in a few days, they would both be officially man and man (wife?), and Draco would finally radiate his smugness with ease to all the cronies who wouldn’t be able to help but look at him with envy as he would clutch his husband’s waist. He knew his husband was the darling of the Wizarding World and had many admires – and snakes trying to take him away from him but after Friday, no one would be able to legally do anything.
Harry would finally be his. Once and for all.
Letting out a satisfied breath, he crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back.
Life was good.
“Everything is also set for the ceremony, right?”
Draco opened one eye to gaze at his partner. He was bent on his knees with his lips sucked in, eyes focused on the ground as his round glasses slipping down, clearly in deep thought.
Draco lowered his arm to place a hand at the back of Harry’s neck. He caressed the soft skin there, and when the tension on Harry’s shoulders eased, he pulled him back next to him. Harry didn’t protest, letting Draco adjust him as he pleased until Harry’s cheek was resting on his bicep and his knobbly legs were thrown over Draco’s. Draco's arm curled around his neck.
“You worry too much, Potter. Relax a little. Everything is under control.”
Harry rolled his eyes but still slid his fingers through his. “Enjoy calling me by my last name while you still can – am I not turning into Malfoy-Potter in five days?”
Draco grinned, a pleased flush rising to his cheeks. “I wonder if your work boyfriend would attend our wedding long enough to hear it?”
Harry sat up and struck his hard chest with the back of his hand. “Stop calling him that! He still hasn’t forgiven me for the stunt you pulled months ago. And I told you he isn’t interested in me.”
Draco snorted rudely. The first time Harry had mentioned that idiotic beast named Arun, Draco had despised him. He had been an intern when he had met Harry, but every time Draco would come to the Ministry to take his lover out for lunch, the wizard would attach himself to Harry's hip, pretending to have questions and therefore, delay their departure. Another time he had bothered Harry late at night because of supposedly Dark Wizards stalking him. Who would want this idiot anyway? He had no utility even for Dark Wizards. The only thing going for him are his muscles, but Harry is not shallow enough to fall just for that. Newbie, that’s what he was. As if Draco hadn’t also pulled those tactics to get Harry’s attention years ago. As if he was naïve enough to believe that that man looked at his lover with anything but lust in his eyes. He had deserved the public humiliation honestly. Because no stranger should touch his boyfriend – especially on the lower back – without his permission. It was one of his fondest memories.
Harry, however, was the most oblivious brat ever. He refused to even consider the possibility of what Arun was trying to do.
Bloody wanker.
“I have no regret.” He replied cheekily and Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before settling back against him. “Though I would love to see his tear-streak face when I would kiss you at the altar.”
Harry then raised an immaculate eyebrow. “Who says you wouldn’t be the one crying?”
Draco stare at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Harry shrugged casually but Draco caught on the restrained tilt on the side of his mouth where he was trying to hold back a smirk. “After all, you’re the emotional one between us. Should I remind you that the first time you took me to bed, you –”
Draco clamped his hand over Harry’s mouth to silence him. No. That did not happen. Draco hadn't shed a tear the first time he connected his body to Harry’s. Plain and utter lies!
“Shut up.” He said, feeling his face warming up. “It was sweat.”
Harry pushed his hand away and this time the mocking grin was on full display. “Ah yes. Fat salty sweat trailing just under your eyes. Of course.”
Draco glared at him, not knowing what to stay.
Harry chuckled before leaning down and lightly kissing his cheek. “Come on, don’t be miffed.” Then he looked back into his eyes. “Seriously though, will you cry during the wedding ceremony when you will marry me?”
Draco sneered, a finger curling around one of Harry’s black lock. “Of course I won’t, Potter. What’s there to cry about on such a joyous occasion?”
Harry shrugged with one shoulder. “Ron did.”
“Good thing I’m not him, then. Malfoys are strong men, Potter. You should know this after being blessed with my presence for six years. How could I, as the heir of the Malfoy family, stoop so low as to weep in front of our guests merely because I bonded?” then he snorted, eyes filled with mirth. “Imagine gushing out tears like a toddler – the awkwardness would be so embarrassing it would kill me. Honestly Potter, you think too much sometimes...”
********
The soft melody was filling the air as Draco waited near the altar, with the civil celebrant situated behind the table. The bridesmaids (groom-number-two’s-maids?) stepped inside one by one and took their respective seats, but Draco was hardly paying attention to them.
A silly grin etched on his face; he was impatiently and nervously awaiting for his lover to come inside.
For their ceremony, they have decided to rent a castle in Wales knowing the countless guests they were to expect. Casting a quick glance around, he deduced roughly around hundreds of wizards and witches, with half of them being the Weasleys and the other half being his father’s ‘politically important guests’. The place was decorated with golden arched ceiling and red carpet, contrasting marvellously with the hard stones.
Draco had insisted on hiring musicians and thanks to his father’s contacts, he managed to obtain the best group out of all.
When he caught his mother’s eyes on the front seat, she seemed to be holding back tears, but her face was happy. His father held her hand, his face contorted into a proud smile. Both got matching hairstyle and robe, and Draco found them ridiculously lovely.
Then, the chorus slow down. Draco turned his head towards the entrance like everyone and his breath caught on his throat.
Harry had refused to give him clues about what he would wear. As long as it was a wedding dress, Draco had given him full liberty on the choice of his clothing, but he hadn’t expected this.
Harry was wearing a long wizarding white robe with a thin veil flowing from behind his head and onto the ground, the laces on the outlines shimmering in silver. His sleek trousers were tailored perfectly for him just like his shiny grey shoes. As he approached with Arthur Weasley holding him, Draco noticed a beautiful pinkish white lily tucked on his breast pocket, the same colour as the blush on Harry’s cheeks. But the detail which stuck out the most was the little earring on Harry’s left ear – a family heirloom of the Malfoy’s.
The heirloom signifying commitment, love and belonging.
The possessive beast inside his chest roared at the sight.
It was when his mouth was dry that he noticed he had been staring at Harry with his mouth hanging open.
Harry was wearing the traditional dress for the Malfoy bride – just with a few changes to accommodate to his sex. With the different motifs and those particular grey sparks all over his veil, he was the most beautiful human being his eyes ever had the pleasure to be blessed with.
When Arthur kissed his forehead and left them to take his seat, Harry turned to him with a wide grin, his canine teeth sharp like of a cat.
Draco stretched a shaking hand to grasp the soft fingers of his partner and suddenly, a sob wrecked through him. The tip of his pointy nose started to ich for a second before tears flooded his eyes. Throwing his head back to blink them back, he ignored Harry’s suspiciously glittering eyes then he gently helped him up the small stairs until they stopped before the table where the civil celebrant was waiting patiently.
Harry took his other hand. When Draco glanced back at him, his vision was blurry.
He didn’t listen to the registrar’s speech who presented herself, thanked the guests for attending the wedding and explained the story of the castle. His eyes were glued on Harry. On his oily lips, his deep forest eyes shining like stars under the moonlight, his long lashes casting shadows over them and the sensual curve on his neck. It was probably one of the first thing Draco started to get fixated on when his feeling for that incredible man switched into love. It was as tender as it looked and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple every time he swallowed was something strangely captivating.
“Now is the time to look ahead at all the moments yet to come.”
A small silence filled the room.
The civil celebrant gave them a smile. “Can I ask you please both to turn and face each other – especially you, Harry, since Draco seemed to be unable to detach his gaze from you from the moment you stepped inside.”
Even the laughter of his family and friends wasn’t enough to break his stance. Draco turned his body, facing the love of his life instinctively. He immediately gripped Harry’s hands tightly once more – not knowing when he had released them – before she could ask them to.
Which of course, didn’t go unnoticed by her and another round of chuckle resonated around the vast room.
“These are the hands of your true love. You hold these hands as you promise to love each other each day.”
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he noticed Harry pressing his lips hard enough to not laugh at his face.
“These are the hands that would comfort you and share the joy and happiness of life together.”
They already do.
“These are the hands that years from now will still be searching for your hands, still seeking the love, encouragement and support that each of you seeks from the other today.” She took a breath before continuing. “As you stand here today, I remind you of the serious nature of the responsibility you’re about to enter. Marriage is the voluntary and full commitment of two consenting adults to love each other for a lifetime.”
He already does.
“So Draco, please repeat after me.”
Draco nodded shakily, feeling Harry’s fingers tightening in encouragement.
“I do sincerely declare…”
“I do sincerely declare,” he started hoarsely.
“That I know not…”
“That I know not…”
“Of any reason why…”
“Of any reason why…” he continued.
“I Draco Lucius Malfoy,”
“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy,” he breathed out, feeling calmer.
“May not be joined in matrimony,”
“May not be joined in matrimony.”
“To Harry James Potter.”
Draco turned to him, taking another shaking breath, before gazing back into those enchanting eyes. “To Harry James Potter.”
When the civil celebrant turned to Harry and asked him to repeat the same sentence as he uttered, Draco knew this moment would be etched deep into his brain and soul, because the simple act of hearing Harry pledging his heart to him was enough to power his Patronus Charm.
“…So I ask you now, Draco: in taking this man to be your husband, do you promise to love and respect him, help him when he needs help and cherish him throughout your lives together after all of this time; do you so promise?”
Draco felt the tears resurging again as he noticed Harry’s bashful eagerness.
With my whole soul.
“Always.” He responded, knowing his face was wet enough to keep it fresh for forty-two hours at the very least without any beauty products.
Harry listened diligently to the civil celebrant asking him the same question before he turned back to him happily. “Always.” He responded calmly.
A voice in the back of his mind told him it wasn’t fair. Harry wasn’t supposed to look composed when he was to marry him. Draco wasn’t supposed to be an utter mess – it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Draco had expected the situation to be reverse not…not like this.
The wide grin on his face at hearing the reciprocal words, however, was proof enough of how little he cared about that voice.
“May I ask the best man Blaise to step forward with the ring?”
They turned to the side to see Blaise dressed in a handsome formal outfit, holding a red cushion with one golden ring sat atop.
Both of their rings were identically graved with each other’s name and designed by a jeweller. It had several enchantments meant to protect each other from grave harm.
“And Blaise could you please pass the ring to Draco?”
When Blaise approached him with a mocking grin, he took the opportunity of Draco leaning down to gather the ring into his palm to tell him, “Don’t stench the wedding cake with your tears, mate, I’m still hungry.”
The civil servant pressed her lips together to not laugh and Draco threw him a half-hearted scold. “Cheers, Blaise.” He answered curtly, his voice still hoarse.
“Draco,” she started again, clearing her throat as Blaise stepped back. “Please place the ring on Harry’s third finger on the left hand and repeat after me.”
Draco’s hand was shaking again when he repeated her sentence: “I give you this ring…as a symbol of our love…all that I am I give to you…All that I have I share with you…may this ring be a lasting reminder…of the vow we are making today…now and always.”
The moment he slid down the ring on Harry’s finger, he refuse to look at anyone, fearing he would start sobbing again.
Then Ron stepped up to give Harry his ring but the mischievous look on his face as his blue eyes met Draco was a key on the endless teasing he would have to endure for the rest of his life. Him and Weasley were on better terms since he started to see Harry and as both had similar personalities – yes his former self would have never admitted to such an appalling thought – they bonded over both having insane partners with a firewhiskey years ago. Since then, they both pretended to despise each other while never missing an opportunity to dug each other’s grave.
If it was appropriate to flip the bird, he would have. As if Weasley had been any more composed when he had married Granger. At least, Draco is not leaving his boogers all over his tailored and expensive robe compared to him.
He felt Harry sliding his ring onto his finger and a sudden surge of peace and power enveloped his body. He almost fought the urge to close his eyes to let himself feel the strong runes and magic traveling up and down his body.
“Having pledged and sealed your vows by the giving and receiving of rings, it truly does give me very great pleasure to say you are now…” she frowned, looking down at her paper before staring at them hesitantly. “You are now…Husband and…husband-wife I guess?”
Their friends’ giggles made his previous smugness surge back. He was now, wasn’t he? Harry was his. Not only legally, but also in front of their family and friends, everyone could now attest their bond – pity that Arun decided to not attend the wedding. Ha. Take that. Coward.
“And congratulations.” She chuckled. “You may kiss your…groom-bride.”
Draco then gently grabbed Harry’s jaw, looked at him for a few seconds before bursting out into a chocked sob again. Letting his head fall onto Harry’s shoulder, he wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed tightly for comfort. He his felt hands patting him on his back indulgently and a mocking laughter in his ear.
“I said kiss; not hug.”
Their guests let out another laugh before Draco suddenly straightened and smashed his lips against his husband-wife, and the laughter turned into cheers.
THE END!