Author's Note: This is fluff. Pure, unadaulterated fluff, dedicated to Mr.MalfoyPotter over at HexFiles. It is written as a sort of apology for the fic I am simultaneously posting here called "I love you, baby". The fact that I need an entire flufflet just to apologize should tell you all you need to know about the angst level over there. I'm posting this piece seperately though because the two aren't related at all.

Disclaimer: Characters and concepts belong to JKR, but the situations are entirely of my own devise. The lyrics are from "I will always love you," by Whitney Houston.

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Draco was surprised to open the door to their flat, only to be bombarded by sound. Singing, to be precise. Harry Potter singing at the top of his lungs, with a fuzzy, muggle-radio version of the same song barely audible underneath Harry's resounding voice. A broad smile already tugging his lips, Draco didn't notice as his jacket dropped to a heap just shy of the coat rack, his hat and briefcase following. Quietly as he could, Draco followed the source of the singing down the hall and all the way to the kitchen, cautiously peeking around the corner of the doorway. The sight that met him actually made Draco's jaw go so far as to drop open, his eyes wide with surprise. The noise there was even louder, Harry's voice barreling out verses into a frosting-covered wooden spoon. Draco cringed despite himself. Harry was a mess. The floral apron had managed to take the brunt of what could only have been an explosion of flour, but Harry's wild hair had a light dusting as well, as did the faded black/grey t-shirt and ripped up old blue-jeans. Much to his horror, the counters were also covered in a fine dusting of white and globs of various baking ingredients dripped haphazardly down the counters. The floor seemed to have been likewise assaulted, and Harry's sock-clad feet slipped around on the flour-and-batter-spotted linoleum. The momentary loss of balance did not deter Harry's singing at all though as the song seemed to reach it's crescendo, and he used the momentum from his near fall to go sliding across the linoleum, falling to his knees as he sang:

"And IIIIIIIIIIII-e-IIIIIIII will alwayyyyyyys loveeeeee youuuuuuuuuuuuu-oo-ooooo!"

Draco stepped into the kitchen, the huge smile he'd been trying to hide bursting across his face despite the itch he had to find a cloth and some soap. The oppurtunity was just too perfect to miss. Harry's closed eyes prevented him being any wiser to this though, until a gentle voice broke his song-induced daze.

"Is that a promise?"

Harry's eyes flew open as he tried to stumble back to his feet, slipping in a puddle of milk and very nearly falling straight on his arse.

"Draco! You… you… what are you… I mean, you're early… I wasn't expecting… um.. SURPRISE!" Harry held out his arms, face turning bright pink.

"Surprise?" Draco reached out, using his thumb to wipe a smear of frosting from Harry's chin, sucking it thoughtfully into his mouth. "Mmm… not bad. What's the occasion?" Draco teasingly tugged the lacy strap of Harry's apron.

"Oh you! You're birthday, of course. I.. I know it was last week, but you were out of town, and I thought we should celebrate properly. I… umm… baked you a cake. Sort of. Well, I tried at any rate." Harry hurried over to the enormous, lumpy white mound on the counter, proudly presenting it.

"You… you made this for me?" Draco could only stare as Harry nodded, looking half embarrassed and half pleased.

"Do you like it? I know I'm not much good in the kitchen, but I know how much you like that one recipe, I thought I'd give it a try…"

'Not much good in the kitchen' was putting it rather lightly, Draco felt. Harry was, strictly speaking, banned from all cooking procedures that did not involve a cardboard box from the freezer and a few minutes in the microwave. Especially when unsupervised. The cake itself was a testament to the reasoning behind that. And the mess! If Harry was a mess, the cake was a disaster; an enormous mound of crumbs and frosting piled on the plate Harry was holding, a bright pink blob with green sticky-out bits right in the middle, and near illegible icing-writing that he assumed said "Happy Birthday Draco". Draco could only stare for a very long time.

"Harry… this is…" As awful as the cake looked, and as horribly messy as the kitchen was, the love in those tired green eyes was overwhelming. Draco never really thought about it, but the sheer amount of hope Harry put in him, all the sacrifices he'd made.. it was… Draco couldn't find the words to describe the warmth spreading through him. He took the disaster of a cake presented to him and reverently set it on the counter before promptly pulling Harry into a crushing hug, mindless of the flour and batter and frosting smearing all over his only work-shirt.

"Draco?" The only answer Harry got was a kiss; tender and hot and hungry, lips parting instantly and easily as tongue's explored, tasting and teasing and feeling. Hands wandered over backs and sides and chests, tugging anxiously at clothing as the weight of the weeks of separation hit them both full on.

"It's a promise…" Harry whispered breathlessly when they had finally paused for air. Draco pulled back, looking curiously into Harry's eyes as his overloaded brain tried to make sense of that, as well as the brave smile lighting that beautiful face. When it clicked a moment later, a squeal of surprise echoed around the room as Harry's back got acquainted with a large puddle of rather cold milk on the linoleum floor, and both boys ended up covered in sweat and flour and generally speaking, very very messy.

A very long time later, Harry and Draco could be found curled up on a pile of discarded clothes, eating cake with their hands and drinking milk from the half-spilled carton.

"I missed you…" Harry whispered, licking some stray frosting from the corner of the blonde's mouth, adding in a lingering kiss just for good measure. Draco sighed contentedly, pulling Harry flush against him and kissing him soundly, knocking over the remainder of the milk in the process. "I missed you too," he murmured, trailing a reverent caress from Harry's throat, down his chest and stomach, pausing to stroke over his hip. They both shivered. "I've got a surprise for you too, though," Draco paused, and Harry pulled back to meet his eyes. "I got a letter today. From the Ministry. Harry... my name's been cleared." The transformation in Harry's face was so instantaneous and complete, Draco didn't think he'd seen Harry look so beautiful and relieved since the night the war ended. "Are you serious, Draco? You mean.. you won't have to go away anymore?.." Draco kissed him again, nodding the affirmative. "No more long weeks out of town, or lonely phonecalls?" Draco nodded again, kissing Harry's forehead. "No more worrying about making the bills, or unemployment lines or eviction notices, Harry. There's enough money we'll never have to worry again. I quit my job at the agency this afternoon." But Draco could tell the wealth and luxury they'd just come into meant nothing to the teary-eyed man in his arms. They would finally be together like they should have been from the beginning. They could return to the wizarding world. They could finally forget about a war that shouldn't have happened, and a past full of obstacles. It would just be them, together, always, and that was all that really mattered, wasn't it? "Draco… we have to celebrate." He couldn't help but laugh. "But Harry, I thought we just did celebrate."

"But that was for your birthday, Draco! This.. this.. oh my God, Draco! We can.. we can…" Draco wasn't sure what Harry had just realized they'd be able to do, but figured it didn't matter much, as they'd be able to do anything as far as he was concerned.

"Yes, we can. And you're right, we should celebrate." The blonde carefully disentangled himself, standing and offering Harry a hand up. He was smiling like he hadn't in ages, leading Harry out of the kitchen.

"Wait… what about the mess!" Harry looked back at the drips and spills and the fine dusting of flour covering nearly every surface.

"Don't worry," Draco whispered, playfully smirking as his hands slid down to rest on the curve of Harry's arse, using it as leverage to pull him in for another deep, devastatingly perfect kiss. "The landlord can deal with it. Besides, maybe being a little messy isn't so bad after all."