"Marcus," Harry said Monday, September twenty-first, "What are you doing on Thursday?"
Marcus hesitated, "This Thursday?"
"Yes," Harry nodded in affirmation, stirring the homemade Chinese they were going to eat that night. Harry had shown up after a long day of work to find Marcus sleeping peacefully on his couch, looking more tired in rest than Harry felt awake. He had let him doze for a while longer, thinking that Marcus overworked himself, and set about making them dinner. Marcus had woke up midway through the preparation of their meal and stumbled into the kitchen, messy haired and bleary eyed. He had wrapped his arms around Harry from behind and kissed his neck then had gone off to sit on an island chair to watch Harry as he worked.
"Oh, ah, I thought maybe we could do something together," Marcus answered. Then, he asked curiously, "Did you already have something planned?"
"Well, it's not like it was planned, really, but there's this movie that's coming out in the cinema that I really want to see, and I thought that maybe you would like to go with me," Harry turned to face him with a smile.
"Oh," Marcus was doing a very valiant job of not looking disappointed. "Does it have to be this Thursday?"
Harry widened his eyes, "I really, really want to see it."
Marcus smiled and crooked a finger at him, pulling Harry by the front of his shirt in between his legs, "Really, really, huh? Well, I guess that means we're going then."
Harry's face broke in a toothy, bright eyed grin, "Thank you."
"We can go more often if I get a kiss like that every time," Marcus joked after they pulled apart from a long, tongue heavy kiss.
Harry tried to get out his grip, "You should let me go turn off the stove unless you want to eat burned food."
Marcus released him reluctantly; after a moment of thinking he said, "Maybe if we go early we can go to Hermione's and Ron's and babysit the baby."
Harry served them steaming plates over rice and took them to the table. He waited patiently while Marcus joined him, watching with a smile as Marcus poured the both tall glasses of milk, "That sounds great."
"It does, doesn't it?" Marcus grinned at him, running his thumb gently over the apple of Harry's cheek. He took a bite and smiled, "This is delicious, Harry."
Harry took a large bite and spit it out in a hurry; he had not blown on it and it had burned his tongue. "It's not funny," he glared at a laughing Marcus and took a swing of his glass.
Marcus merely responded by taking a forkful of his own food, cooling it, and placing it carefully in Harry's mouth, "It's a good thing I think you're the hottest thing since the creation of the Sun."
"I resent that jab at my intelligence," Harry muttered.
"You're concentrating on the wrong part, Harry," said Marcus.
Harry smiled, "What part should I be concentrating on, then?"
"The part where I think you're near perfect," Marcus winked at him.
Harry blushed, much too pleased to do anything but look at Marcus through his lashes, "That goes for you too."
Marcus grabbed on to Harry's hand and ran his finger over the light scar there with a grin, "Well, we all know you don't tell lies."
Harry shook his head, "Cocky bastard."
"That's my name," Marcus said, stealing a kiss.
"This isn't the cimena," Marcus looked at Harry with questioning eyes as they stepped through the brick wall into Diagon Alley.
"No, you're right. It isn't the ci-ne-ma," Harry pulled Marcus along the brightly lit street towards a fancy looking establishment.
Marcus shook his head, "J don't understand. Why are we going to The Albion?"
Harry pushed him through the front doors and greeted the hostess, waiting to be shown to their reserved table. He smiled, "Well, you said this was your favorite restaurant."
"It is," Marcus agreed. Harry was holding his hand as they walked to a private table for two near the rear of a large, darkly decorated room. As soon as people recognized Harry, their eyes strayed to them, watching them walk with curiosity. He guessed he could understand now why Harry didn't like to go out to public places. When they were seated across from each other, he asked, "I thought people made dinner uncomfortable?"
"Well, I think I found a way for us not to be disturbed," Harry told him, making Marcus notice for the first time several people hovering nearby. With narrowed eyes, he recognized Fred, Harry's partner from the Ministry. Harry ordered an appetizer and a bottle of wine for them, waiting until the witch was gone to pull a small wrapped gift from the inside of his suit jacket, "Happy birthday, Marcus."
Taken aback, Marcus took the small box with happy surprise. His eyes were very dark as they inspected it, his fingers running carefully over the wrapping until they undid it. He put the wrapping paper aside and popped the lid open, smiling when he saw what was inside, "You got me a watch!"
Harry grinned, relieved to see that Marcus wasn't threatening to throw the useless thing away, "Yeah, it's a Muggle one. It's called a Rolex, and I thought it might look good on you. It suits you."
Marcus took it out and inspected it closely, tinkering with the small dial. Then, he saw the small inscription on the inside of the band. He read, "To Marcus, who deserves nothing less than everything he wants." His eyes sought out Harry's, "Thank you."
Harry laughed when he was pulled in for a surprising kiss and wrapped his fingers in Marcus' hair, "You like it?"
"I love it," Marcus assured him, slipping it to his left wrist beneath the cuff of his black button-up.
Harry had been right; it did suit him. It added to the ensemble, to the man himself as if it was the final detail on an expensive man with expensive tastes. Marcus looked sexy, dark, and, Harry realized, like a boss, a man who led so others would follow. Maybe he was reading too much into his own gift, but, regardless, it made the blood in his body move south, "I'm really glad."
"How did you know it was my birthday?" Marcus asked after their appetizer had been brought to the table and they had ordered.
"I have clever friends," Harry smiled.
Marcus grinned, "What, Hermione?"
Harry shook his head in amusement, "She's not the only bright one, but yes, if you must know. She tipped me off, and it's a good thing too since you didn't seem to be too eager to tell me."
"Oh," Marcus avoided his eyes. "I didn't want to make you feel like you had to do anything. Actually, I was going to tell you on Monday, but then you lied to me about the cimena, and I didn't want to disappoint you."
Harry laughed, not bothering to correct him, "It was a white lie. Besides, how could you think that I wouldn't want to do something for my boyfriend?"
"I like that word on your lips," Marcus said instead, his eyes going a little darker.
Harry blushed, "I like other things on my lips as well." Then, he winked teasingly, "Like food. Come on, be a turtle dove and eat up, birthday boy."
Marcus moved forward and pecked his lips, "Ron's a bad influence on you."
Harry smiled against his lips, "He would be happy to hear you say that."
"Shh, shh, shh!"
Marcus looked at Harry with amused eyes, "Are they trying to be quiet?"
"Mom, move over."
"Oh, sorry George, dear."
Harry was shaking with silent laughter, but ushered Marcus into Hermione and Ron's living room with a hand at the small of his back. As soon as they had come in, the room erupted in, "SURPRISE!" and a set of fireworks went off, causing mayhem as people shrieked and tried to dodge them. Hermione had the presence of mind to turn on the lights and stood at the back of the room, shielding her daughter from the small explosions caused George and his wand.
Mrs. Weasley came forward and hugged a surprised Marcus around the waist, "Happy birthday, dear!"
"Oh, thank you," Marcus nodded at her, taking into his hand a lumpy present she shoved at him.
"It's a Weasley sweater!" Ron roared at Marcus, plopping his and Hermione's present into Marcus' hands as well, "Happy birthday, mate."
Marcus set aside his enormous green sweater with a large M knitted at the front and continued to open the rest of the presents that were unrelentingly given to him. The Weasleys were all cheery and stared at him with merry eyes until he opened them all, including a bottle of whiskey from Hermione and Ron, a bottle of wine and some condoms from a winking George (much to Mrs. Weasley's outrage), and a large painting from Dean and Ginny which Dean had done himself. Harry couldn't decide if Marcus looked more surprised, overwhelmed, or taken aback by everyone's enthusiasm, but he seemed to be taking everything in stride.
The room was aflutter with activity, and Hermione unceremoniously shoved Rose into Marcus' arms to go cut the cake. After babysitting several times with Harry, she seemed to trust him with her. Marcus, however, looked at Harry for help who grinned and busied himself shoving the box of condoms at George. The evening wore on quite quickly, in fact, and Harry was happy to see that Marcus loosened up as time passed. He actually looked quite comfortable holding Rose in his arms. It occurred to Harry for the first time that for all his physical size and dark facial characteristics, Marcus looked very much like a father. Somehow, that thought made Harry grin. It made him like Marcus even more than he already did, which was ridiculous because he was crazy about the guy.
When they finished the cake and coffee, everyone began trickle home until Harry and Marcus finally said goodbye to Hermione and Ron, thanking them for everything. Marcus had handed the baby back to its mother with great care and had stepped into the floo laden with his presents. When they stepped into Harry's apartment, they plopped on the couch and Harry asked, "Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah," Marcus answered. "It was- surprising."
"It means the Weasleys have taken you under their wing, I'm afraid," Harry informed him, putting his hands on the inside of Marcus' suit and tugging the coat away. He undid the tie with sure fingers, Marcus' eyes focused on Harry's face as he did so, and finally unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it off. Marcus looked delicious like that, in a pair of fitted lacks and nothing else. Alas, Harry decided to put an end to it and straddled Marcus' hips, wrestling Mrs. Weasley's sweater on unexpectedly.
Marcus came out at the other end looking very surprised, "Wow, it actually fits."
Harry laughed, amused at the way Marcus' hair was standing on end messily, and nodded, "Mrs. Weasley is a genius. It's comfy, isn't it?"
"Yes," Marcus admitted, "but I was quite looking forward to where you were going before you attacked me with it."
"Oh," Harry said, sneaking his hand up beneath the sweater onto Marcus' warm chest. He trailed his fingers down Marcus' belly and settled them on the large bulge in his pants, "You mean here?"
"No," Marcus shook his head and put Harry's hand inside his pants, "I meant there."
"Hmm," Harry raised his eyebrows playfully. "Then I should probably do something about those expectations."
He tugged his hand out from inside Marcus' trousers to rid him of his Weasley sweater, going further down until his fingers popped the button and freed Marcus' of his pants. Harry said a quick thank you in his mind to the powers that be that Marcus didn't wear boxers and wrapped his tongue around the tip of Marcus' cock. He traced his tongue down the shaft and grinned when he heard Marcus give a strangled gasp, nipping down playfully with his teeth. Marcus wrapped his fingers in Harry's hair and seemed to be trying to pull him up, but Harry kept to his steady assault, reveling in the pink flush grazing Marcus' cheeks. He looked up through his lashes at him and saw that Marcus was biting his bottom lip, leaving it red and swollen in such a way that it nearly made Harry kiss him. However, he resisted the temptation and pushed down with his lips, trying to get as much of Marcus in his mouth as he could. He was too big to fit in all of the way, but he made sure to do his best with what he was given. Marcus gave him a warning moan and tried to pull him up once again, but Harry ignored him and bobbed his head faster until he felt hot sperm hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, feeling a bit slip to the corner of his lips, and grinned when he had Marcus all cleaned up. Harry slinked his body upwards and settled himself on top of Marcus' lap.
Marcus ran his thumb over Harry's bottom lip and wiped it clean before moving in and giving him a long kiss that seemed to go on and on. Harry felt Marcus' hands pushing him up gently and stood up, followed by the taller man, "I think we should take this to the bedroom, Harry."
They kissed their way into Harry's room, Marcus tugging at his clothes on the way there, allowing them to drop in a trail that made obvious what they were intent on doing. Harry dropped on to the bed and opened his legs to allow Marcus to sink between them. He was prepared with great care before Marcus set his hand on Harry's right thigh and pushed forward. Throwing his head back in time with a moan, Harry wondered if he would ever tire of this, of the wonderful sensations that coursed through his body making his toes curl, of having Marcus look at him that way, so powerfully and like he could see something in Harry that he more than liked, that he owned. It was an extraordinary aphrodisiac to be handled with such precision, attention, and obvious care. Because in truth, Harry did not doubt for a second how the large man above him felt about him; it was the same way, Harry imagined, that he felt about Marcus. A breathy gasp was torn from his throat when Marcus rammed into him at a particular angle that made him close his eyes with pleasure, and he only opened them when Marcus kissed him gently, drawing his attention back onto his form. He liked having Harry's attention and did his best to shut off any sensible train of thought. Harry was more than happy to let him know through a message of moans that he was much more than just successful. For those minutes, as they rocked together, gasping and breathing heavily as they stared into each other's eyes, Marcus was everything.
"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked with concern two weeks later when he and Marcus were stopping by to say hello on a Wednesday afternoon.
Hermione looked distraught standing on top of a scale, "I gained half a kilo!"
Ron, beside her looked near tears, "No!"
Marcus shook his head and took the baby from Ron's arms, watching from a distance as Harry and Ron crowded around Hermione and looked down. The numbers were changing even now and as they held their breath in anticipation, new ones blinked up at them. Hermione cocked her head to the side in surprise, "Oh." She smiled a watery smile and beamed up at Marcus, "No, I lost half a kilo!"
Harry hugged Hermione and then Ron, who was looking weak with happiness, or perhaps starvation, "Good job, Mione."
"I think you look great," Marcus told her, garnering a look of wide eyed happiness that eventually made him look away, uncomfortable with the attention. Instead, he focused on cradling Rose closer, playing with her little fist while she gurgled happily.
"I like this one," Hermione mock whispered to Harry.
Harry grinned and looked from Hermione to Marcus, "I like him too."
Just then, Ron's rumbling stomach broke the nice moment of silence, and he looked apologetically around him, "I'm sorry; I'm just so hungry."
Hermione looked very guilty and looked hopefully at Harry, "Have you two had dinner yet?"
Harry hesitated but then said, "No," carefully.
Hermione swatted his arm, "I don't mean to keep you here and feed you lettuce. I'm afraid Marcus would pass out; why don't you boys go out for some dinner some place nice? I will stay here with Rose and we will celebrate mommy's accomplishments."
Harry looked at Marcus, and he nodded. Ron wasted no time and gathered his cloak, pulling Harry along as if afraid Hermione would change her mind. Marcus handed Rose carefully to Hermione and followed the two friends out the door with a small shake of his head. Despite his early hesitancy, Marcus liked Ron and Hermione; he especially like the way Harry would go bright eyed around his friends, the way he acted as if everything was right in the world when all four of them, and the baby, were together. It was a look that was becoming more and more similar to the one Harry wore when they were alone. Just then, Ron was joking about how he was at the point of fainting from hunger, or at least Marcus thought he was joking. The pitiful look on his face made it hard to really tell.
"So, where are we going?" Ron asked expectantly.
Marcus gave him a sympathetic smile, "Anywhere you want to go. Harry and I go out all the time."
"Yeah," Harry smiled at Marcus thoughtfully and then looked at Ron. "You choose, mate."
Ron looked momentarily overwhelmed. "Steak," he said at last, "anywhere with steak."
Marcus thought for a moment, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist, and finally said, "There's this really great Grille in Diagon Alley if you want to go."
"That sounds fantastic," Ron said earnestly. "Let's go."
Without wasting time, he turned on his heel and Apparated, leaving them alone. Harry turned in Marcus' arms and smiled widely, hooking his wrists around the taller man's neck. He stood on tippy toes and kissed him gently, hiding his head in the crook of Marcus' neck as Flint side Apparated them away. When they walked into the restaurant, Ron was in the process of getting them a table. The hostess greeted them warmly and showed them to an open spot, setting down the menus in front of them. Picking his up, Harry noticed that none of the entrees had prices next to them, which he took to mean that if someone needed to ask the price, then they probably couldn't afford to eat there. Beside him, Marcus looked completely unconcerned and set about ordering them three different appetizers that they could munch on while their stakes were cooked. In between large bites of food that had Marcus worrying that the redhead was going to choke, Ron kept him busy with conversation about how his teams were doing. He looked at Harry from time to time in concern for his friend's safety, but Harry knew better and patted his arm reassuringly.
"I heard China is doing smashing," Ron said, leaning back so the waitress could set his steaming plate in front of his eyes. Harry actually thought Ron went glossy eyed for a moment.
"Yes," Marcus said. "One of my better investments, if I'm honest. They are garnering a lot of attention, though I don't know how much longer that's going to last."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, noting the way the area around Marcus' eyes had tensed.
Marcus took a sip of his wine and thanked the waitress for his own meal before answering, "Xinwei, the Keeper on the China team, is in talks with Japan to switch. The Japanese are offering him an obscene amount of money as well as a campaign with him as the face of the Japanese team in the upcoming World Cup. They're ready to draw up naturalization documents the moment he makes up his mind."
"Is he instrumental to China's success?" Harry asked with concern for Marcus' franchise.
Marcus shook his head, "It's not really that. China is solid, because they play well as a team. If Xinwei goes to Japan, he can kiss the chance at the Cup goodbye. He might highlight for them, but China will remain the stronger team. He is making the mistake of thinking that he's the only Keeper in Asia who can play as well as he does."
"But I have seen him fly," Ron said around some potatoes. "He's really good."
"Yes," Marcus agreed. "He is very good, great even. It doesn't change the fact that there aren't others who are nearly as good or better. The one thing that Quidditch players tend to forget is how lucky they are. You don't just need skill to make it on to the field. You need to be noticed, which is ten times harder than actually playing the game itself."
"Alright," Harry said calmly, wiping his hands on the napkin on his lap, "but if China is set to be successful without him, why are you worried?"
"Because Xinwei leaving is going to garner a lot of bad publicity, and you can bet that it's going to cut my stocks. Companies don't want to be involved in bad publicity, Harry. It's sticky, and it's bad for business."
"Can't you do anything to stop him?" Ron asked.
Marcus nodded, "I'm doing my best. Xinwei might be good at Quidditch, but there is no one better behind the scenes than me. It sounds arrogant, but it's deserved. I have worked my ass off to make sure that it's that way. The sad thing is that this kid might get attention now, for a little bit, but a few years down the road he is going to be completely forgotten. People remember Chasers and Seekers; it's harsh, but it's the truth. A great Keeper is recognized, but he is only acknowledged if he's part of a group of great players. I'm placing a lot of trust on my handler in Asia to make sure he stays."
Harry put a hand on Marcus' arm, "Marcus, why don't you go there and talk to him. I mean, from what you just told us, you convinced me that it would be a good idea to remain in your camp."
"You think so?" Marcus asked, his eyes serious and concentrated on Harry's.
"Yes," Harry nodded, inclining his head for a kiss.
From the opposite side of the table, Ron was chewing loudly, "Aww, you two are so cute."
Pulling back, Harry grinned at his friend and shook his head, "Ron, I think the lack of food has done something to your brain. You just called us cute."
Ron looked concerned and nodded, "Best keep eating, then."
Time seemed to fly after that, largely due to how busy Harry and Marcus were kept at their separate jobs. Marcus had indeed heeded Harry's advice and gone to China to speak with Xinwei and had been working hard with his lawyers to draw up a new contract that finally seemed suitable to the lad. Over at the Ministry, Harry had been handed job after job. Bottlehagen seemed as if he was tugging his mustache out in frustration at the mounting number of illegal magical dealings that seemed to occur all at once. No matter, they managed to make time to spend together, even if it was just at night some days. Marcus was practically living in Harry's flat, and his tailored clothes could be seen littering Harry's room before either of them had time to put them away properly. On a lunch break, Harry had actually gone home and carefully hanged Marcus' suits in his closet, marveling slightly at the way they looked next to his odd assortment of t-shirts and jeans. His own suits were pushed to the very back, out of reach, as it was very rare that he ever put them on.
Marcus had found him like that, sitting cross legged on the floor staring up at their clothes and had become smitten with the happy look on Harry's face. He had taken Harry to bed, despite the Auror's protests about needing to be back at work soon, and laughed throatily when those protests turned into moans and Harry squirmed deliciously beneath him. As it turned out, Harry had managed to make it back into the office only ten minutes late, though his hair was sticking up more than usual and his face was flushed. Various of his coworkers gave him knowing looks that he reacted to with a glare until finally everyone was too involved in their own work to worry about Harry's sex life. Lucas was thankfully in the field that day, and Harry was spared the awkward moment that would have no doubt happened if the blond had been there.
On Halloween, Harry was allowed to go home and met up with Marcus in his apartment. Mrs. Weasley had invited them to the Burrow, and Marcus was very nervous about going there for the first time. Harry climbed through the fireplace and walked over the couch where Marcus was seated waiting for him, "Hello there, gorgeous."
"Hello," Marcus relaxed into their soft kiss. "Good day?"
"Relatively," Harry answered, shrugging his outer robe off. "You know, if I had known how much paperwork is involved in being an Auror I might have considered becoming something different. I will admit, though, that I am glad I'm not on the field tonight. We get all kinds of weirdos on Halloween. I bet you a lot of our kind will be out tonight, recklessly, no doubt scaring the poor Muggles half to death."
Marcus smiled, "Well it's a good thing you don't have to worry about them tonight."
"I missed you," Harry breathed into Marcus' neck as he joined him on the couch, settling into Marcus' side.
Marcus pulled him close and sighed, "I missed you too. I'm never as happy as when I'm with you."
Harry looked at him, touched, and kissed him, "I'm never as happy as when I'm with you, either."
"Well, that's good," Marcus joked. "I thought Rose and I were heading for a rumble there for a minute."
"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea," Harry said, shaking his head. "She would kick your ass."
Marcus' eyes were playful, but he shook his head and said, "I wish I could say that was lie."
Harry grinned and patted Marcus' thigh, pushing up so he could stand. He extended his hand to help Marcus get up, "Come on; we better get ready. Mrs. Weasley will kill us if we're late."
Marcus followed Harry into the room but kept them much longer there than was necessary, kissing his way down Harry's back. Harry had turned into him, relaxing into the touch, and seemed ready to see where it was leading when Marcus had to step away as much as he wanted to continue. He looked torn as he said, "The party, Harry."
Harry was glossy eyed but eventually snapped out of it and mock glared at him, "Doing that should be punishable by law."
"Doing what?" Marcus asked, changing his suit for a more comfortable pair of black slacks and a blue, slightly more loose button up shirt.
"Being you," Harry told him, slipping on a long sleeved shirt over his jeans. "You make getting dressed a much tougher ordeal than it should be."
"I think it's because I like you naked so much better," Marcus told him seriously, grinning when Harry blushed despite everything they had done in the past few months. When he stepped forward for a kiss, Marcus felt oddly pleased with himself for having that power over the Auror. That blush did strange to him, like settling a smile that didn't seem to want to go away on his face and make undignified butterflies erupt in his stomach. Harry's teasing hand trailing up his yet still untucked shirt did nothing to help.
"Having fun?" Hermione asked Marcus later that night, joining him in a corner of the room where he was standing watching the others.
"Yes," Marcus answered, holding out his arms for the baby. "How have you been?"
Hermione smiled, "A little tired, but what's new? I have finally lost all the weight!"
"I bet Ron was thrilled," Marcus said, patting the baby's back as he held her against his shoulder.
"I thought he was going to cry when I told him," Hermione giggled. "Do you mind watching the baby for a moment? I just want to go get myself something to drink from the kitchen. I would be careful if I were you; George looks awfully suspicious."
Marcus took ample time in surveying the cramped room in the Weasleys' home, which was now garishly decorated with pumpkin colored streamers and jack-o-lanterns that emitted horrible noises when anyone bent down to inspect them. At one point, caught unaware, Ron screamed out in fright and was half way on the couch before he realized that though it could talk, the smirking, horrible face did not have feet with which to chase him. George seemed to find it all ridiculously funny and trapezed up and down the room making everyone's night more enjoyable by placing all manner of fake animals on various parts of their bodies. Poor Ron was taken a fool, again, and nearly did his own hand in when George placed a fake spider on while he was sitting on the couch. Even Hermione, who offered her husband a sympathetic kiss, seemed to find it funny and could be seen standing looking at the corner in an effort to control her silent mirth.
Victorie, Bill and Fleur's daughter, was having a fantastic time, teaming up with her uncle to bring down mayhem upon the Burrow. She had obviously inherited the Weasley spirit, and George looked at her for the longest of times with an appraising look after she managed to sneak a caramelized candy cockroach into Mrs. Weasley's drink while giving her a hug. For his part, Harry was having a great time, laughing loudly with Shacklebolt as they discussed a case from work that Shacklebolt had been around for when he was not too busy trying to run the country. The only person missing so far was Mr. Weasley who had been called off to work unexpectedly after a rubbish bin started serenading a scared little Muggle woman on her way home. It had followed her all the way to her doorstep and refused to leave, proclaiming at the top of its lungs that it loved her.
Well into the evening, however, he returned, looking windswept but happy. He relegated the all with the tale and smiled in satisfaction as he finished it by letting them know that everything had been resolved, memory spells put into place, and lovesick rubbish bin turned to normal once again. He stooped to kiss his wife on the cheek, taking a drink from her cup without realizing that the candy roach was still floating about, and made his way over to the front of the fireplace where Marcus was standing watching the room. Mr. Weasley tapped Marcus' arm jovially and looked at his granddaughter with a wide grin, "There she is!"
Marcus handed the baby over and asked, "Will it be a lot of paperwork, the bin?"
"Oh," Mr. Weasley kissed Rose and handed her back gently, "hopefully not too much. You know, Marcus, I have to say, fatherhood sits well on you."
At the opposite end of the room, clutching his cup tightly to his body and watching George warily out of the corner of his eye, Harry smiled. He couldn't agree more. Marcus looked near damn perfect with a baby in his arms; it was strange but appealing. When he made his way to Marcus and kissed him, Harry teased the taller man about being overly paranoid about the drinks, before taking a large gulp of his own ant turning promptly into a giant bird. As his feathers molted, Harry could hear George and Victorie laughing loudly, giving each other enthusiastic high-fives.
Here it is! Hope you like it! Sorry if there are any errors; there are bound to be some, but I didn't have time to fix them if I wanted to get this one out. Sorry, guys! REVIEW!