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“I do love you,” Draco murmured, looking down at his hands in his lap.
“Just not enough,” Harry replied, softly, standing up.
Draco looked up to see him running a hand through his jet black hair, and he wanted to scream that it was enough, that it would be enough, but he couldn’t.
“If I can convince my father that—”
“I’m not going to wait around for you to man up and tell your father that you’re not going to follow his rules, Draco,” Harry snapped. “I don’t know what you expect from me. What do you even gain by staying under his thumb?”
“He’s my father!”
“Right, and despite everything that he’s done, that matters more than you living the life that you actually want.”
Before Draco could argue back—and really, what could he say, Harry was right—Harry was out of the door, slamming it behind him.
Draco slumped back on the charcoal grey sofa and buried his face in his hands. That hadn’t gone well at all.
…
“You need to get out of this rut,” Pansy said, leaning against the breakfast bar.
“I’m fine,” Draco replied, putting two gold mugs full of steaming coffee down before he perched himself on a stool. When Pansy arched her eyebrows at him, Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s only been two weeks, Pans. Give me a minute, eh?”
“You should go and hunt Potter down and apologise to him,” Pansy advised, shrugging her shoulders. “You love him, he loves you, what does it really matter if your father doesn’t approve?”
“He’d disown me,” Draco muttered.
“So? Marry Potter. Take his name. It’s not like you need whatever is left in your father’s vaults, you’re making your own money, and Potter isn’t exactly a pauper, is he? Your mother has already told you that she wants you to be happy. What are you scared of, Draco?”
Draco shook his head. “I’m not… scared.”
Pansy snorted. “Yeah, right. Of course not, how silly of me.”
“Uh huh. So, how’s life for you?”
“Life’s good, you should totally get one.”
“I hate you sometimes.”
…
A month—okay, twenty-nine days, not that Draco is counting—after Harry slammed out of Draco’s flat, the two of them finally ran into one another.
Quite literally.
“What… what are you wearing?”
“It’s Halloween,” Harry replied, wrinkling his nose. “Teddy picked my outfit.”
“It’s, uh. Something?”
Laughing, Harry nodded. He was wearing what looked like a dinosaur costume, but it was… inflated.
“How are you?” Draco asked, then, and silently cursed himself as the jovial look slid from Harry’s face.
“Fine, I guess. You?”
Draco shrugged. “Getting by. I miss you.”
“Who’s fault is that?”
Draco really hated it when he couldn’t argue against Harry’s straight-forwardness. “I should let you… go and do whatever you were doing.”
Sighing, Harry stepped carefully around him and wandered off. All thoughts of visiting the Leaky Cauldron vanished from Draco’s mind. If Harry was in Diagon Alley dressed like that, him and his friends would undoubtedly end up at the bar before long.
Draco knew that sitting and staring at the boy-wonder all night wouldn’t do anything but hurt him more.
…
Draco was having a bad day. No, Draco was having an absolutely terrible day. The scars on his chest were aching—they often did when it was cold, but usually, Harry was there to rub a warming ointment into his chest—and work had been absolutely miserable.
He’d come home to find his father sitting on his sofa, ready and waiting with a list of eligible pure-blood witches for Draco to consider for marriage.
He really wasn’t in the mood for it at all.
At least he didn’t have to clean up, he supposed. He was naturally very neat, so it gave his father one less thing to complain about.
Pottering around the kitchen, taking his own sweet time making tea, he wondered if he’d broken a mirror and not noticed. Was he in for seven years of the bad luck he’d been suffering lately?
Or was it an instant seven years worth of bad luck for hurting the saviour?
Draco wouldn’t even be surprised if it was.
…
“Astoria Greengrass would be my first choice for you,” his father said, as soon as Draco set the tea tray down on the table.
“Father—”
“If this is about Potter again—”
“I love him!” Draco shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t want to marry Astoria, or Pansy—who’s dating Luna Lovegood and is very happy, by the way—or even the bloody princess of a foreign nation. The only person I want to marry is Harry Potter!”
“Draco—”
“I’m sick and tired of following your rules,” Draco said, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had arrived. “I don’t want to be a Malfoy if it means that I have to give up my chance at happiness.”
He watched as his father’s face flushed with anger, and found that he didn’t care half as much as he suspected he would have only months ago.
“If you no longer wish to be attached to your family and your duty, you need only say, Draco,” Lucius said, viciously. “It can be easily remedied.”
Draco stared at his father for a long moment, and then nodded. “I no longer want to be attached to my supposed duty as a Malfoy. If that means that I have to lose my name, then so be it.”
…
Draco sat in a small booth at the back of the bar. He was waiting for Pansy—who was late again—but paying more attention to the group standing around the bar. He had thought that he was seeing things at first, but no.
Harry was here.
And he looked fantastic.
“You’re drooling.”
Draco startled, and then rolled his eyes when Pansy sniggered as she took her seat.
“He’s looking mighty fine though, those muscles are something else,” she added, as an afterthought. “Weasley is talking about being his wingman. Looks like your boy-toy is on the lookout for a new man, Dray.”
“Don’t call me that,” Draco said, automatically, even as he felt what was left of his heart shatter.
Harry was looking for someone new. He was too late.
“Whatever. I’m so hungry! Is the food any good here?”
Draco shrugged. “We can go elsewhere.”
Now that he knew Harry was on the pull, so to speak, he had no wish to stay there and witness it. He stood up, gesturing for Pansy to do the same.
Pansy huffed. “Fine. Wait outside for me while I go to the ladies, will you?”
“Don’t take forever,” Draco replied, slipping out from the booth. He managed to avoid Harry’s group on the way out, but he wasn’t expecting the shock of cold air to be quite so frigid when he stepped outside.
He started shivering almost instantly.
“Idiot. You know how easily you get cold.”
Draco tried to turn around at the familiar voice, but hands on his shoulders stopped him, and then a cloak was being draped around him, warm and comfortable, and the scent was so familiar it hurt.
When the hands dropped away, Draco turned to face Harry.
“I didn’t know you even knew I was in there.”
“I saw you as soon as we came in,” Harry admitted. “I’ve never been able to ignore you, Draco.”
They’d talked about their shared obsession with one another, and while Harry seemed to have gotten over it. Draco wasn’t sure that he ever had. It had just… changed emotionally.
“The food is pretty good here, you know?” Harry offered, when Draco didn’t say anything. “If you’re leaving to find somewhere to eat, I mean.”
“I don’t particularly fancy watching you on the pull,” Draco replied, softly. “I try to deter things that make me want to commit violence. I know it’s been a couple of months, but—”
“I’m not on the pull,” Harry said, frowning. “It’s Phil’s birthday. I didn’t even want to come out, but, well, he came to my birthday drinks. You remember him?”
Draco wrinkled his nose. “Vaguely, I suppose. You, uh. You’re not—”
“Really not.”
“Oh.”
The door behind them swung open, and Weasley stepped out. “Harry, what are you—oh. Malfoy.”
“Can’t call me that anymore, Weasley,” Draco replied, quietly. “I got disowned.”
“What?” Both Harry and Weasley asked.
“My father wanted me to marry a witch, but, well, my heart is already taken, and I realised that I wasn’t really gaining anything by giving into him. He didn’t take it very well.”
“What name are you using now?” Weasley asked, tilting his head slightly.
Draco smiled slightly. “Black. My mother gave me leave to use her maiden name.”
“I’ll… leave the two of you to it then,” Weasley said, back up and opening the door, slipping back into the warmth. Whatever he’d come out to tell Harry had clearly been forgotten.
“You… you told him no?” Harry asked, and Draco didn’t think that he was imagining the hope in Harry’s eyes.
“I did. I also told him that the only person I wanted to marry was Harry Potter. Like I said, he didn’t take it well.”
Harry’s eyes widened for a moment, and then his lips tilted up in the adorable smile that Draco loved. “You really told him that?”
Draco dipped his head. “It’s true. You are the only person I’d ever want to commit my life to.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“It wasn’t a proposal, Harry,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.
Harry chuckled. “I didn’t think that it was, but, uh. I think I would say yes. Just so you… well. For future reference, I guess.”
“You—”
“I love you too.”
“Still?”
“Of course, still. I always will, you dumbass.”
“How romantic,” Pansy said, shaking her head as she stepped out of the bar. “Now that that’s all been sorted, can we please get some food. My stomach thinks that my throat has been cut.”
Harry snorted. “I’ll leave you two to get your food. Uh. Maybe drop back here when you’re done?”
“We can just eat here,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Draco. Food.”
…
Draco moved through the group of inebriated Aurors easily until he was beside Harry. He stood close, and was then pulled closer still, until he was standing between Harry’s legs, where he was perched on a stool at the bar.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” Draco murmured. “Pansy has gone home because she’s bored of my making eyes at you across the room. Her words, not mine.”
“You wanna get out of here?” Harry offered.
Draco nodded. “My place, or yours?”
“I’ll meet you at your place? I’ve gotta make sure that Ron gets home in one piece, or Hermione will hunt me down and hex me with something nasty. You know what she’s like.”
Since that was the usual routine of a night out, Draco only nodded and chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”
He leant in, a little unsure, but Harry met him half way. Their lips—and magic—met in the middle, and the power felt phenomenal after so long without it. Draco had never kissed anyone who he was so compatible with that their magic mingled, until he’d met Harry.
When he eventually pulled back, Harry smiled and cupped Draco’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
Draco nodded. “Can’t wait.”