Author: Taradiane (
![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
taradiane)Rating: PG-13.
Canon: Post-HBP, no spoilers.
Length: 5,600 words.
Scenario: I promise not to wear underwear the next time we go out.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the sole property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Christopher Little Agency and associates. No money is made from this work, it is purely a work of fanfiction.
Notes: I took a less literal approach to the cheque scenario...
Underneath It All
"Pardon?"
"I said, what are you doing?"
Draco tossed out the question lazily from his sprawling position on Harry's bed, watching as his boyfriend, clad in only a damp towel, pulled out a pair of white cotton briefs from his dresser drawer.
"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm getting dressed," Harry shot back, poorly veiled irritation evident in his tone.
"Yes, I can see that," Draco replied, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, "but what do you think you're doing with those?" He gestured at the pants that were being swiftly pulled up two of the most formidable thighs in all of England, if Draco did say so himself. And he did.
"Well I'm not wearing them on my head, am I?" Harry rolled his eyes.
Draco continued to ignore the foul mood, fully aware of its origination and choosing to disregard it. "You're not aware of what full Scottish dress means, are you?"
"I know about the skirt, Draco." Harry buttoned up the plain blue oxford that still bore wrinkles from when he'd worn it the night before, and tucked it into his jeans. "I'm not wholly ignorant."
"Not wholly, no. Apparently just a wee bit ignorant," Draco teased, moving from his relaxed position on the bed toward his flustered lover and moved to straighten Harry's shirt collar.
Harry batted Draco's hands away, sighing in aggravation and walking out into the hallway and into the bathroom.
"Well, this is just the final fitting," Draco said, his nerves wearing thin with Harry's continued refusal at niceties. "I suppose we can forgive you the need for pants in this instance."
"Yeah, and I'll be forgiven for the need for pants period, because there's no way I'm wearing a skirt without them."
"Kilt."
"Whatever!"
Harry threw down his hairbrush onto the countertop, turning on the tap and running his fingers under the water and then through his hair in a last ditch attempt to tame his fringe.
"Uptight, are we?"
Draco leaned against the doorframe, wanting to reach out - whether in an attempt to soothe or smack, he wasn't sure. Probably both.
"You're pestering me."
Draco put on one his irresistible mock pouts, the one thing that usually succeeded in softening Harry's sharp edges when all else failed.
"You were a complete wanker last night," Harry said as he pushed past Draco, heading back into the bedroom where he sat in his favourite chair and put his trainers on, hastily tying up the laces as he avoided Draco's gaze.
After a few moments of uneasy silence, Harry looked up to see Draco standing in the only open space of the cramped bedroom, his posture defeated.
"I'm sorry," he said to Harry, quiet but earnest.
"Are you?"
Harry sat back, the effect of only a few hours sleep the previous night already starting to manifest. He regretted the question as soon as the words were uttered.
"Yes."
Draco walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge and running his fingers through his hair before pressing his palms against his brow. Harry stood up, part of him wanting to comfort his boyfriend; another part remembering all the things that were said the night before and not caring about Draco's frustration.
"Why rush things?" Draco finally broke the silence, his words carefully measured so as to provoke the least explosive reaction. "Aren't you satisfied with the way things are?"
"No- I mean, yes, I..." Harry stumbled over his reply.
"Say it," Draco demanded, his frustration finally breaking through at Harry's inept reply.
"Want more." Harry knew his response was more ultimatum than answer, and he was past caring that that would surely anger Draco.
"Colour me shocked."
Draco stood, smoothing down the creases of his fitted t-shirt and moved to the large claw-footed mirror that stood in the corner of Harry's room.
"It's all this wedding nonsense," he continued, a forced playfulness accompanying his words. "Granger goes and gets herself tied to some equally dreadful and boring Scottish Paleontologist - and a Muggle, at that - and suddenly everyone has nuptial fever."
"I'm not asking for your sodding hand in marriage, Draco," Harry threw up his hands in exasperation, "I'm only asking you to-"
Draco turned to face Harry; his annoyance obvious in the steely glare as Harry's badgering finally wore him down.
"Give up the last bit of independence that I have and move in here. Yes, I know."
"Charming way to put it," Harry sneered.
"Do we have to argue about this now?" Draco said quietly, picking up his jacket from where it hung from the doorknob. "We're going to be late."
Draco started toward the bedroom door, but Harry's arm extended out in front of him, halting his progress.
"No, I'm going to be late," he said, moving in front of Draco and walking out into the hallway. "You can stay home. Oh, no, wait - so sorry - this isn't your home," Harry said, then turning his head to look at Draco, "and never will be according to you, so maybe you should go back to your home."
Draco watched Harry disappear from the hallway into the front room, hearing Harry's front door slam a few moments later.
"Selfish little prick!" Draco yelled into the silence, just before Apparating to his own flat.
Draco hated formal gatherings, and this was proving to be no exception to the rule. The rehearsal dinner was turning out to be more of a Gryffindor reunion than anything else, and the lone Slytherin felt isolated as he stood alone in an otherwise abandoned corner. The lavish dining hall was proving far too warm for his liking, and he exchanged his Firewhiskey for Icewhiskey as one of the wait staff walked by.
He saw Ian Douglas starting to approach, thankfully without his bride-to-be at his side. He wasn't sure if Harry had told Hermione of their row in the four days that had since passed, and wasn't in the mood for her faux-concern over his and Harry's relationship. He was only here because he was expected, as Harry's date, to be in attendance. The only problem was that he and Harry hadn't spoken or seen each other since their fight, and Draco was half waiting to be ushered out as an unwelcome intruder.
"Evening, Ian," Draco smiled cordially.
"Draco! Wondered where you'd been hiding."
Standing tall, Ian continued to grin at Draco, rocking back on his heels and taking a rather large gulp of red wine as though settling in for conversation.
"Not too nervous about the big day, are you?" Draco asked in his attempt to make small talk with the virtual stranger - their only commonality being the Gryffindor who was currently ignoring Draco from the other side of the room.
"Aye, not too much, no," he laughed, a loud and boisterous laugh that always managed to make Draco cringe a little. "Where's Harry?"
"Oh, around here somewhere," Draco said with a casual wave of his hand, pretending to look around the room.
Ian nudged him in the ribs a little too hard, jostling Draco's drink and causing a tiny splash to land on his cuff. "Didn't know you two had chains that extended that far," he joked, unaware of how raw the seemingly innocent taunt rubbed Draco's nerves.
"Indeed."
Draco forced a smile and proceeded to walk away, leaving an unfazed bridegroom in his wake as he moved toward the table to which he and Harry were assigned to sit. It wasn't long before everyone else began to take their seats, Draco tensing up more than a little when Harry finally sat down beside him.
"Hello," Draco offered up first, picking up his linen napkin and laying it across his lap.
"Hi," Harry replied shortly, barely offering up a glance before swiftly turning his attention to the front of the room where the soon-to-be wedded couple stood to address their family and friends.
"Harry, we-"
"Shh," he interrupted, "Hermione is about to say something."
Draco sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at Harry's less than subtle snub. He listened half-heartedly as Hermione and Ian thanked everyone for being a part of their 'blessed and magical' night. It was an obvious nod to her wizarding peers in the room who promised to come without their wands to insure no one but those already in the know would find out about Hermione's heritage.
Harry's fingers were tapping nervously on the tabletop, and Draco reached up to join their hands in an effort to calm Harry as well as try and bridge the emotional gap that was swiftly widening between them. Just as Draco's palm made contact, however, Harry jerked out of reach, instead clasping his hands in his lap and purposely avoiding Draco's glare.
If he had bothered to look over, Harry would have seen the obvious hurt hidden behind those grey eyes, and might have halted Draco's mumbled pardons from the other guests at their table as he retreated from the hall and out the main doors of the castle to Apparate home.
Draco looked over at the clock on his bedside table. The dim neon numbers reminded him of how much sleep he was missing out on as the evening's earlier events bit the forefront of his mind. Harry had never avoided his touch like that before - it was usually the exact opposite; the man starving for physical contact had always found excuses to touch Draco, and had never once taken offense to a public display of affection. It bothered Draco more than he thought that it should.
A sudden crack in the mostly dark room startled Draco out of his brood, and he sat up, his wand clutched in his fingers and pointing in the direction of the noise where just seconds before it was nestled under his pillow. The shadow took two steps forward into the moonlight pouring in through the window, revealing that familiar messy hair and glinting on the surface of Harry's lenses.
"Fucking hell, Potter, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Draco shot out angrily, tossing his wand atop the covers.
"Sorry."
Harry stood still, biting at his lip as though suddenly wondering why he'd Apparated into Draco's bedroom at two in the morning.
"What do you want?" Draco crossed his arms across his chest, his initial scare giving way to annoyance.
"Can we talk?"
"Sure. Now you want to talk," Draco narrowed his eyes at him, "after humiliating me in front of a room full of people by acting as though my touching you was the most repulsive thing in the world."
"I didn't...it was..."
Harry started to twist the edge of his shirt - the same one, Draco noted, that he'd worn to the rehearsal dinner earlier that evening. He felt satisfaction at the fact that Harry obviously wasn't sleeping, either.
"Instinctual? That makes me feel a lot better. Really."
Harry didn't respond, and just as Draco was about to tell him to leave, Harry moved toward him and sat on the edge of the bed. He was close enough for Draco to see the faint circles under his eyes that he didn't notice before, and he cursed the wave of sympathy that ran through him.
"Why can't you just give me this one thing? Why can't you do this for me?"
Draco looked away from the pleading in Harry's eyes and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
"I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear you say that."
"Why, Draco?"
Harry leaned slightly toward Draco, his left arm reaching out to rest on the other side of Draco's leg as if to pin him in and force eye contact.
"Do I need to write you a fucking list of the things that I have given up for you? It won't be short, I can assure you," Draco countered fiercely.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry leaned back at that, but didn't move the barrier he had around Draco's body.
"It's late," Draco said, his words terse in their attempt to stop an argument he was far too tired to have. Again.
"I'm not leaving until we talk about this!"
"Oh, well of course things have to go your way," Draco spat, forcibly moving Harry's arm and standing up at the other side of the bed to force distance between them. "Potter isn't leaving until he gets what he wants, and what anyone else wants be damned!"
"It's not like that!"
"It sure as fuck feels like it from here!"
Draco watched Harry's shoulders drop, and let his own defenses drop a little in the hopes that this shouting match was actually going to end.
"Is it really so bad?"
Draco said nothing to the softly spoken question, warning bells ringing in his head at the direction the argument was surely about to head.
"This. Us. Being together," Harry continued, walking around the edge of the bed to stand in front of Draco but not daring to move any closer.
"Yes," Draco deadpanned, "I just happen to enjoy having spent two years of my life making myself miserable."
"I'm serious."
"Maybe I should be asking you since you're the one in such a snit to change the status quo," Draco derided, cocking his head to the side and daring Harry to challenge him.
"Because it's not just status quo. I thought that you...that we..."
"I like things the way that they are. I'm comfortable. Content. At least, I was," Draco finished quietly, looking down and starting to pick at a loose thread on the quilt that lay rumpled on the bed.
"I am, too!" Harry said hurriedly, ignoring the cynicism and moving his hands to grab Draco's. "That's why I want more."
"Why? Why now?"
Draco wrenched his hands from Harry's grip just as Harry had done to him at the rehearsal dinner.
"Why not?"
"Let's see," Draco started, beginning to count off on his fingers. "Your friends still barely tolerate me, the papers still won't shut up about The Boy Who Tops, and I happen to like my life the way that it is. My life, Harry! I finally saved enough to buy my own home, finally shook off the last of any association to my Father - at your insistence, I might add - by publicly disowning him as he rotted away in Azkaban and goddammit isn't that enough?" Draco heard himself practically shouting, but was past caring. "Maybe you have some grand plan for our life together, but were you ever going to ask me what I wanted? What if I told you that this was all I have to offer? Would it be enough? Is the person that I am right now enough for you, Harry? Because this is it! This is me! If I gave you any more, there wouldn't be anything left! I'm fucking sick of being Harry Potter's Boyfriend! I am Draco Fucking Malfoy if you haven't forgotten, although I could hardly blame you if you had!"
Draco breathed heavily, his outburst as unexpected for Harry as it was for himself. He had said things he hadn't even realised he'd been harbouring, and he could almost hear the nail being pounded into the coffin of what was left of their relationship.
Harry surprised him by sitting on the edge of the bed once more, and Draco fought the urge to wrap his arms around him, sure that it was far too late for such gestures no matter how much his body wanted to comply.
"I never asked you to change for me," Harry finally said, emptiness in his voice.
"No, never outright." Draco sat down gently beside him, his hands resting atop his knees. "You managed to make me feel obligated in entirely different ways. Or maybe I did. I don't even know anymore."
"How long?"
"What?"
Draco looked over at him, and saw Harry watching the sky outside the window. He could see the tenseness in his lips; the set jaw that usually signaled when Harry was fighting an internal battle.
"How long have you been holding in all this resentment toward me?"
"Probably about as long as I've been resenting myself."
Harry moved his body toward him, his arms crossed and curled around his sides as if holding himself together.
"Do you want out?" He asked, voice breaking slightly. "Is that where this is all coming from?"
"No." Draco saw the question coming, and was glad that he didn't have to think twice before answering.
He did love Harry, but he wasn't sure anymore if he could give Harry what he needed. They had never actually sat down with each other and talked about what they wanted from life, or from each other. Draco had fairly strong suspicions that Harry wanted a family, and that was something Draco wasn't sure he could give anyone, let alone someone as all-encompassing as Harry.
Their relationship had started off, not surprisingly, with just the occasional shag whenever their paths would cross. When their paths started to cross on purpose and with intent, it developed an exclusivity that neither had actually vocalised - it just happened. Draco wasn't even sure if Harry had been seeing other people when they first met, and he didn't care enough to ask. Suddenly six months had passed and Harry was introducing Draco as his boyfriend and Draco had his own drawer in Harry's bedroom so that he wouldn't need to rush off in the mornings to go home and get ready for the day.
The fact that they had never had The Talk or any variance thereof was most likely solely responsible for the current clusterfuck that they found themselves in, and Draco had to fight back a bitter laugh.
"I think that you do." Harry's words were barely above a whisper.
Draco looked over at him, no challenge left in him to try and change Harry's mind, which he seemed to have already made up.
"If I've...if I've made you change into someone that you didn't want to become-"
"That's not-" Draco started weakly, but was interrupted by a hand on his heart.
"Then I don't want to be a part of that anymore. I love you just the way you are, for everything that you were, and will be fifty years from now. But I can't have you hating me, Draco...being unhappy and hating me for it."
Draco could only watch as Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, stood up, and Apparated out of Draco's bedroom...and probably his life.
As Draco sat in the silence, the echo of Harry's exit long gone, all he could do was wonder how the hell he had managed to end up like this and, oddly enough, how the hell he was going to get through that wedding the next day.
Waking up barely six hours later, Draco managed to go through his morning ritual as though on automatic pilot. As he shrugged into his jacket, he could scarcely even remember getting showered that morning, let alone getting dressed to go out.
Stopping by the small mirror that hung by his front door, he took time to charm away the dark circles under his eyes just before leaving. He made his way down the two flights of stairs and out the main doorway, giving one of his eccentric neighbors a cursory nod before heading down the road to his destination.
He could have Apparated to a nearby alleyway close to the shop he was headed for, but Draco wanted to walk - hoping the chill autumn air would inspire a little clarity of mind before having to face Harry again for what was likely the last time. He had justified going to the wedding by using the one trait that had seen him through many a similar situation - his pride. Harry may have left him, but he wasn't going to give Harry's friends the satisfaction of his absence which, he thought, they were most surely counting on.
That, and Hermione was expecting him to be there - it was reason enough for him, and he felt he owed it to her to be there on this of all days.
He wondered how long it had taken Harry to ring Hermione and tell her about their split. Hermione was actually the only one of Harry's friends who showed him any true kindness. Close friends they would never be, but Draco could count her among his acquaintances and felt a pang of sorrow at the thought of never sharing a laugh with her again.
He walked into the shop and headed straight for the counter, handing the clerk his ticket for the wedding gift that he and Harry had picked out a few weeks prior. Leaning against the counter as he waited, he watched customers browse the tables of fine silver, an elderly woman picking up a large bowl and inspecting the bottom. She had a teenage boy with him, bright red hair and freckles clashing with the deep red velvet that lined the store's interior. Draco idly wondered if, had Ron Weasley still been alive, the silver tea service he was picking up would be engraved with 'W' instead of 'D.'
Draco walked up the same stone steps alone that he had walked with Harry not even twenty-four hours previous, heading through the doors of the castle where the wedding was to take place. Keeping his head down so as to discourage as much contact as he could get by with, he placed his - their - gift on the table outside the chapel doors and walked to the pew where spouses and partners of the wedding party were to be seated. He was the sole occupant, and immediately picked up a hymnal from the pocket of the pew in front of him for distraction. Every time he heard movement heading in his direction, he stiffened at the prospect of suddenly being asked to leave - his split with Harry making him no longer welcome.
When an unfamiliar usher actually did come toward him and leaned forward to speak to him, he thought for sure that his insecurity was about to come to life.
"You're Draco Malfoy, right?"
"Yes," he nodded warily.
The usher smiled, obviously relieved at having picked the right person. "The bride has asked for you. If you'll just follow me..."
The usher stood straight, waiting for Draco to fall in step beside him. He led Draco toward the front of the chapel, and off to the side where a narrow doorway led to what Draco assumed to be the same room where a priest would prepare his Sunday service.
"Draco!"
Hermione walked toward him, all smiles and watery eyes as she grabbed his hand and held it tight.
"I'm so glad that I caught you before the wedding started."
Draco smiled back, not at all surprised by the beautiful bride she had become. Her long, flowing white gown was exquisite, and her hair was pinned back, showcasing the tamed curls that ran down her back. The entire effect reminded Draco of her first entrance of their Yule Ball in fourth year.
"You look lovely, Hermione."
"Oh, never mind that," she blushed, waving her hand at him, "I didn't bring you back here for compliments. I wanted to get you alone. Without Harry, I mean."
Draco stilled, watching her fuss with the sleeves of her dress and reaching to help her with the tiny buttons.
"Here, let me," he offered, using the task to avoid having to look her in the face.
"Draco, I...I know we're not the best of friends, but-"
Draco heard footsteps heading their way as he continued with the sleeves of her dress, and looked up as her words stopped, her face lighting up as she greeted the person in the doorway behind Draco.
"Harry!"
A shiver ran down Draco's spine as Hermione rushed past him, her dress rustling around her ankles as she went to greet the last person with whom Draco wanted to be trapped in a tiny room.
"Oh, the two of you together - it's perfect!" She cried, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled Harry inside and guided him to stand at Draco's side.
Draco could feel Harry looking at him, but he couldn't meet the gaze, concentrating instead on Hermione.
"Listen," she started, offering up her arm to Draco once more so that he could continue fastening the tiny buttons into the delicate lace.
It was suddenly a lot harder than it had been before, and his fingers fumbled.
"I'm so glad that I got the two of you together. I was going to talk to Draco here, alone," she said directly to Harry, "but this really should be said to both of you."
"I just came in to tell you that Ian's ready," Harry said, and Draco couldn't help but smirk at the helplessness in his tone; Harry's ability to handle weepy women was pretty much nil.
"Oh, but don't you see - this is perfect! Here I am, about to get married, and I have you two to thank."
Draco looked up at her then, eyes wide.
"What?" both men asked in unison.
"You two. You're..." Hermione took her free hand and cupped Harry's cheek.
"I love watching the two of you, did you know that?" she smiled.
Draco risked a glance at Harry, and an equally questioning gaze met his.
"I love Ian, I really do. But that's partly because of the two of you. After..." Hermione paused then, looking down for a moment, and Draco watched her throat working to swallow. She looked up, determination in her eyes as her smile returned and she continued, "After Ron died, I didn't want to give my heart to anyone anymore. I couldn't even fathom the idea of it. But then, seeing the two of you, and you made it work, made it look so easy-"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted weakly.
"You've been together for so long now," she continued, "and you two had to fight so many odds to find one another, that...well, I knew that I couldn't sit around wallowing in my own misery and decided to...to live."
She stood there, beaming and looking gorgeous on what was to be the happiest day of her life, and the two men in front of her were going to make sure that it stayed that way.
At the same moment they reached for each other's hands, interlacing their fingers together.
"We're glad that you're happy with Ian, Hermione," Draco said, "and we wish you all the best."
"I am happy, and I just had to tell you - both of you - that you were a part of that."
She kissed them both on the cheek, then added, "Who knows, maybe one day soon one of you can wear a pretty white dress like mine."
Awkward silence filled the room as Hermione looked back and forth at each of them, smirking, and one look at Harry's face sent Draco into a peal of laughter that he couldn't hold back. Hermione laughed as well, and Harry stood there with the pained expression of a man who was the butt of a very unfunny joke.
"Oh, lighten up, Harry," Draco finally said as his laughter died down, gesturing to Harry's kilt, "we already know you look quite fit in a skirt."
Harry glared at him, then at Hermione, but Draco could tell he was fighting back a grin.
"You're going to be late for your own wedding," Harry finally said, and kissed Hermione on the cheek as she ran through the back entrance of the room that led to who knows where and called for her mother.
Harry and Draco stood side by side, fingers still entwined, both of them looking everywhere but at each other.
"If I didn't know her better, I'd say you planned all that out with Hermione just to add salt to the wound." Harry's tone was light, but Draco knew there was truth to the pain behind them.
He turned to face Harry, never letting go of his hand, and used his other to tip Harry's chin up and meet his gaze. They looked at each other, Draco seeing all the hurt and anger and need behind Harry's eyes that the past few days had built up within him. And at that moment he knew, without any uncertainty, that he was the only person that could fill that need and he wanted to be that only person.
Harry had never asked or wanted Draco to change - he had made that assumption all on his own. He had wasted so much time obsessing over what Harry's friends and the press thought of him, and their relationship, that he had lost sight of the devotion that Harry had given, and continued to give.
Staring at the sad green eyes, Draco made a decision.
Draco took a step back, feeling Harry's grip loosen as if ready to part, and seeing surprise on his face when Draco still did not let go. He looked down appraisingly before turning playful eyes back to Harry's.
"Nice skirt."
"Shut up," Harry grumbled with no real malice. "The flannel is itching my bum something fierce."
"Believed me about the full Scottish dress, then?" Draco grinned, more at the embarrassed flush creeping down Harry's neck than his actual predicament.
"I asked Hermione."
Draco laughed at that, picturing a flustered Harry confirming with the bride that he really wasn't supposed to wear pants under his kilt.
"You should have asked the tailor to line it with silk."
Harry frowned slightly, irritated at the thought having never occurred before now. "Didn't think of that."
"I would have if I were there," Draco said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, well, you weren't, were you?" Harry said softly, pain coming through his voice for the first time and looking back down to the floor.
"We'll need a bigger place."
Harry looked up sharply, mouth gaping for a moment before replying. "What?"
"We'll need a bigger place," Draco said, moving closer and letting go of Harry's hand to straighten the bow tie at Harry's collar. "We'll never fit all of our things in together at your place or mine."
Harry was shaking his head, "Draco, we-"
"I should slap you upside your head right now for all of that 'You want out' business," Draco interrupted, his tone scolding but affectionate as he patted the tie into place. "Who do you think you are, telling me what I want?"
"I thought that-" Harry started softly, interrupted once more, this time by soft lips on his.
"My terms, Harry," Draco said, mouth still pressed against Harry's. Pulling back, he placed his hands on his lover's shoulders and made sure their eyes were locked. "This has to be by my terms."
"Okay," Harry said without hesitation, and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist to pull him into a tight embrace.
Draco felt Harry's sigh of relief all through his body, as though infectious.
"And I refuse to feel guilty anymore for wanting to have tea with my godfather."
"As long as he doesn't try to poison my marmalade," Harry couldn't help but laugh, pulling back far enough to kiss the curve of Draco's jaw.
"And if I want to do up the den to look exactly like the Slytherin common room, then by God I shall," Draco paused for a dramatic intake of breath, "and that dreadful chair of yours isn't permitted inside our front door."
"Green looks lovely with silver." Harry continued, moving his hands down to Draco's hips as he moved to silence Draco's suddenly talkative mouth.
Draco stopped him, pressing his finger to Harry's lips as he added one more request.
"And you're to wear that kilt without pants anytime that I ask you," Draco leered.
"In public?" Harry's eyes widened in amusement.
"Especially in public," Draco punctuated with a slap to Harry's arse.
Harry finally got his kiss then, days of frustration and sorrow and uncertainty melting away as he felt Draco's tongue sliding against his own.
Pulling back with a whimper, he rested his head against Draco's.
"I meant what I said, you know. I don't want you to change. I never did."
"I know," Draco admitted, running his fingertips along the curve of Harry's cheek.
Harry finally stepped back, straightening the front of his jacket and giving one more self-conscious glance to his partially exposed legs.
"I should get back," he gestured to the door with a nod of his head.
"Oh, and another thing," Draco started again, jabbing his finger at Harry's chest to insure his full attention, "I'll do the grocery shopping, because you're absolutely abysmal at picking out ripe fru-"
Draco was cut off by a swift kiss, Harry then forcibly turning Draco around by his shoulders and pushing him through the doorway that led back out to the chapel where most of the guests were now seated.
Draco risked one last request as he was ushered through the doorway, turning his head to say, "Wouldn't hurt to let me pound you into the mattress a little more often, either."
"Whatever you say, Draco," Harry laughed, "whatever you say."
