Harry had put his book aside as soon as his lover collapsed across his worktable. A wave of his hand and muttered spell neatly cleaned the surface and the brushes, then...
"So many people say you're an idiot for dating me." Draco mumbled, snuggling into Harry's arms and submitting to being carried.
Harry twisted, sliding through their bedroom door, humming non-committal acknowledgement as he settled Draco on the bed and gently massaged his hand, which had to be aching from the hours he'd spent painting today.
Draco moaned in pained relief.
"They do." Harry acknowledged. "They've called me much worse for less." he reminded. "And besides, you do as well." he reminded his lover, raising his eyebrows.
Draco sniffed, then moaned again as Harry hit a sore spot. "Of course. I am allowed. They don't have the right. Don't know what they're talking about anyway." he said snottily.
Harry half-smiled, leaning down to brush a kiss to Draco's palm, then a trail up his arm and shoulder, finally to his lips. "They never have. And why do you have the right, darling?"
"I love you." Draco said fondly, eyes fond, and warmer than the remote silver should ever be. "Idiot."
I was busily working on a flashfiction for AO3 today and was inspired to polish up a new drabble. Still working on getting back into the habit of working on drabbles regularly, so I can post at least more regularly than I have been.