Draco Malfoy and His Happily Ever After:
Author's Notes: Thanks to the lovely Wonapalei for the beta! And thanks to everyone who left a review! Happy reading.
Warnings/Summary: Possibly language and the brief mention of mature situations. It's a pretty tame chapter.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This will be slash (eventually). Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
It was early in the morning; the sun was still below the horizon, and the air was crisp and cold. Draco was toasty warm, however, tucked into bed next to Harry as he was. The Gryffindor gave off more heat than a fire imp, not that Draco minded. It was nice to have his own personal bed-warmer. Draco sighed, staring at the ceiling.
The summer was almost over. In only a few days he would be on the Hogwarts Express, headed for school. Draco was looking forward to his last year at Hogwarts, but he was also reluctant to see the summer finally come to an end. It had been unexpectedly peaceful after the Puddlemere Massacre, or as peaceful as life with the Weasleys and two Marauders could be. Everyone had been grateful for the respite, especially Harry. And if anyone deserved a little peace and quiet, it was the Boy Who Lived.
Not that the summer had been boring. Far from it! Harry and Sirius had spent countless hours working on Harry's motorcycle and ruining their clothes. Draco thought the grease monkey look was actually rather fetching on Harry, though that wasn't enough to convince him to actually go near Harry when the other boy was covered with sweat, grime, and grease. Hermione had spent the summer practically living in the Black library to get a head start on studying for her NEWTs and the Weasel spent most of his time exploring the Manor with Fred and George.
With Dobby's help, Draco had been able to move his makeshift laboratory from the cottage's shed to the Manor. They had set it up in an abandoned wing of the Manor so the strange sounds and smells caused by his experiments wouldn't bother anyone. His research had gone well, though he had experienced a minor setback when Fred and George had dropped by to "help" him. Draco did not appreciate their supposed help in the least. He followed a strict scientific method when conducting his experiments, and it didn't include tossing random items into the cauldron just to see what would happen.
The twins had not only blown up his cauldron, but they had completely soaked themselves and Draco in a potion meant to flavor things as various desserts. That had earned Fred and George a lifelong ban from Draco's laboratory, as well as donkey ears from a well-placed Jackass Hex. At least the whole incident meant someone enjoyed Draco's stint as an Every Flavor Slytherin.
Of course, Harry and Draco had spent their nights having as much sex as humanly possible. Thank Merlin for silencing charms! They were teenage boys after all, and not even the threat of being discovered by the Weasleys could make them keep their hands to themselves in the privacy of their own room. Molly Weasley had soon come to expect that the two boys would be late to dinner most nights, having decided that they spent their time together having heart-to-heart talks. Draco was endlessly amused by her naïveté. Whenever she told Harry how proud she was of him for discussing his feelings with a friend, he couldn't help but snicker. More than once, Sirius had had to leave the room in order to laugh out loud after hearing one of Molly's speeches about how it was so nice that Harry had finally found himself a confidant. Not that Draco could blame him.
All in all, the summer had been quite fun. It had also been unexpectedly educational.
For instance, Draco had learned how to slide down a banister. The manor had long, winding staircases, and it was absolutely thrilling to see who could slide down the fastest or fly the farthest off the end of the banister.
Draco had also learned that he loved kissing Harry for hours on end, even if it didn't actually lead anywhere. He had never realized just how many kinds of kisses there were. Sleepy kisses, friendly kisses, playful kisses, passionate kisses…. The thought of just how much time they'd spent with their faces glued together made Draco smile.
A sound from downstairs made Harry shift drowsily and turn over to bury his face in Draco's side before drifting back to sleep.
Draco wasn't surprised the Gryffindor was so tired. They had stayed up quite late last night, and Harry seemed to need more sleep than the Slytherin. Each night, right after they had sex and right before they went to sleep, the two of them talked quietly together about anything and everything. At first, Harry had only done it to assuage the guilt he felt at spending all his time getting off with Draco when Mrs. Weasley thought he was talking about his problems, but eventually it became a part of their routine. It was nice, Draco had discovered, to be able to share things with someone else, and he knew Harry felt the same way. He knew Harry still kept a part of himself back; he avoided certain subjects religiously, but Draco was happy with whatever Harry chose to share with him. The harsher aspects of Harry's life had left their mark. Draco could understand that; after the Puddlemere Massacre, the Slytherin found himself keeping his wand within reach at all times.
Draco had learned a few more things, mostly from trial and error.
Such as the fact that he was a terrible cook. Draco was practically a potions genius, but he was a complete terror in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley had forbidden him to enter the kitchen on pain of death by her big wooden spoon after he had accidentally set the stove on fire. Perhaps it was just that he had no interest in cooking, but he really was awful at it. Draco hadn't even known water could burn. It was a good thing house elves existed, or Draco would probably starve to death.
Draco had also discovered that Harry's hair was truly uncontrollable. He had dedicated a whole afternoon to taming the Gryffindor's wayward locks, but to no avail. He'd only broken his comb and wasted two whole tubes of hair gel.
Of course, the Weasley twins had learned something too during the summer. They had learned the hard way that apparating into someone's bedroom without warning meant they might get an eyeful of the room's occupants shagging wildly. At the time, Draco had been fucking Harry up against the wall, but he had been so startled at the twins' appearance that he'd lost his balance and sent them both toppling to the ground. Fred and George had kept quiet about the incident, though Draco suspected that was only because Harry was somehow blackmailing them into it.
Despite the Amazing Apparating Weasley Brothers and the burning kitchen, Draco had enjoyed his summer vacation. But he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy his last year of school even more.
The highlight of his last week of freedom had been when he had received an owl from Hogwarts. Draco had been surprised when the owl had swooped into the kitchen and landed by his plate with a message tied firmly to its leg. He and Harry had already gotten their school supplies earlier in the summer, when Pansy had taken them shopping, so it wasn't as if it was his Hogwarts letter. Curious, Draco had taken the letter and ripped it open hurriedly. Inside the usual thick, cream-colored envelope he had found a shiny Head Boy badge with an enameled green serpent crest.
At first, Draco had been stunned and then, as soon as realization had washed over him, positively ecstatic. And if Harry was less than thrilled that he hadn't gotten the position, Draco never knew it. The Gryffindor was every bit as pleased for Draco as he would have been for himself, though Ron's grudge was probably big enough for the both of them. Hell, it was probably big enough for all Gryffindor House.
To absolutely no one's surprise, Hermione received an owl only minutes later with an identical letter carrying her Head Girl badge. She had seemed almost relieved that the Head Boy was a fellow scholar (even if he was a Slytherin) instead of Harry, who was undoubtedly intelligent, but not exactly predisposed to making complicated charts or carefully planning events. Draco Malfoy was actually quite organized, because a truly sly Slytherin knew better than to tangle himself up in his own lies, and that often required a high degree of organization. Harry, on the other hand, was more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-and-hope-you-survive sort of guy.
When Harry had first received his prefect badge their fifth year, Draco had automatically started ranting about Dumbledore's favoritism and fervently deriding the Boy Who Lived's rather sorry academic record. Of course, that was before Draco realized how capable and level-headed Harry was in times of crisis. Harry actually made a rather decent prefect too, though his reputation tended to intimidate the first-years. Not even the older Slytherins dared to challenge his authority when Harry was doing his prefect duties. However, Draco couldn't help but be smug that it was he, and not Harry, who had become Head Boy. He truly hadn't expected it, but he certainly was grateful that he had gotten the position.
Harry would probably be spending all his time in Draco's private room anyway, so what was the difference in the end? Other than the fact that Draco would be the one polishing the Head Boy badge every night and flashing it in Weasley's face just for the hell of it, of course.
He was doing just that when he finally stepped onto Platform 9 ¾. Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's antics, but he didn't say anything about his boyfriend's gloating. The Slytherin realized his behavior wasn't exactly attractive, but at this point he really didn't care. He was Head Boy! And having grown up a spoilt only child it was his right - no, his duty - to lord it over those less fortunate than him. When Harry exchanged long-suffering looks with Granger, Draco simply ignored them both.
Harry was levitating both their trunks towards the Hogwarts Express, since he, now seventeen, was able to use magic at his own discretion and Draco was too busy puffing up his chest and strutting around to bother. The Slytherin found himself searching for the familiar faces of his friends, and he grinned when he saw Goyle's wide shoulders and Blaise's head of dark curls.
He sneaked up quietly behind them, the better to eavesdrop on their conversation. "…late again?"
"Of course he'll be late, Goyle. Draco is never on time. It simply wouldn't be fashionable." Blaise drawled the last bit in a rather good imitation of Draco, even going so far as to curl his lip disdainfully and cock one eyebrow.
"Perhaps you should be a bit more careful of whom you mock, Zabini. You ought to show some respect for your Head Boy." Startled, his friends jumped in surprise and looked briefly abashed.
"Head Boy!" Goyle exclaimed, turning around.
Blaise whooped with delight. "I can't believe it!"
"Well, regardless of whether you believe it or not, I am Head Boy this year. Which means that our ASH meeting will be postponed until after Granger and I have dealt with the prefects."
"Who cares! Slytherin might actually have a chance at the House Cup this year! Wait 'til I tell Pansy and Vince."
Their conversation was interrupted as Harry joined them. "Draco, hurry up! Hermione's going to kill us if we don't get to the prefects' compartment on time."
Draco turned to offer Harry a smile. Blaise smirked, fluttering his eyelashes and cooing appreciatively. "Well, well. What do we have here. Is it Draco's ickle boyfriend?"
"Stuff it, Zabini, before I stuff it for you."
"You wish, Malfoy."
Harry was watching the exchange warily. "Um… Draco?"
"Yes, yes, I know. Granger's going spare. You two, behave yourselves. I'll come by our usual compartment in about half an hour." He said imperiously, turning so his Head Boy badge caught the light just so.
"Sure thing, Draco," Greg grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing Harry suspiciously. Harry eyed him right back, though of course he had to tilt his head back to do it.
Blaise was making kissy faces at them both, his lips puckered up in a ridiculous manner. Draco turned round, letting his school robes flare out behind him dramatically, and stalked off without another word. He paused to shoot Blaise a two-fingered salute and a sneer right before he climbed on the Hogwarts Express. Blaise and Greg laughed at him. Or perhaps they were simply laughing at Harry's put-upon expression.
It didn't matter, though. Not when they were so close to Hogwarts… and home.
To be Continued
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