Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.
Warning: Not really epilogue compliant (mostly because I know next to nothing about Astoria Greengrass.). Please read DTF and OPP first.
Note: This is it! The last installment in the 'DTF' trilogy (that sounds so epic...trilogy). Harry isn't as much as a d-bag at the end of this. Anyway, I'm shit at replying to reviews, but I want you all to know that I do appreciate all the good feedback, and that I can't thank you all enough for taking time to read what I write, much less review, add to you favorites, etc.
Right Here Waiting
Harry wasn't sure when this-whatever it was- had stretched beyond sex. After a few weeks of their initial trysts, he and Draco had made a silent bond that their affair wouldn't end after graduation, it would still go on, hot and strong, under the noses of the wizarding world.
Even now, six years later, they still went hot and heavy. He supposed, if he were any other person, Harry would feel some semblance of guilt. After all, he allowed this mess to escalate into what could potentially be a destructive situation. He had followed through with the sham he called a relationship with Ginny, even going as far as marrying her not but months after graduating Hogwarts and moving her into a nice little townhouse not far from Diagon Alley. However, Ginny was hardly a Stepford wife. Back when Harry used to come 'home' after work, he'd be on his own for dinner, as they had refused the help of house elves. The house was always a disaster, and everyday Harry silently thanked whatever gods were listening that they didn't have a child. With Harry's absence and Ginny's disregard for wifely duties, the poor lad or lass would be in Ministry custody before you could say 'lumos'. Add all of that up with Mrs. Potter's spending and constantly broadcasting intimate details of their life to gossip rags and that crazy bint, Rita Skeeter, Harry had decided that Ginny was simply one of many who just wanted his fame, and the benefits of being Mrs. Harry James Potter.
In fact, he could almost say Ginny were to blame for what he was doing now; playing pseudo-husband to his blond lover. After a particularly nasty row with the wife, Harry had left in a huff and ended up at the mansion Draco had been gifted for graduating Hogwarts (only the best gifts for Narcissa's ickle Draco.) Much to Harry's surprise, instead of climbing into his lap the minute he sat down, the young Malfoy had been sympathetic to his misery, cuddling into him and nodding sagely as Harry regaled of Ginny's vicious temper. It had been so overwhelming, so comforting to have someone in his life to just shut up and listen, that Harry couldn't help but take the blond into his hands and make love to him right there, on the sofa in Draco's opulent parlor.
Ever since then, Harry played the happy hubby and Draco, the doting housewife. Giving Ginny the excuse of needing extra hours to work on cases at the ministry, the former Gryffindor would always tumble through the blond's floo at five-fifteen, everyday like clockwork. Dinner would be prepared and shared over candlelight and light conversation, and that was perhaps the best of it (besides the sex, of course). Draco showed a natural interest and concern that Harry didn't know the blond possessed, his pointed brow furrowing every time the raven-haired man regaled a moment he'd nearly lost his life to a Death Eater sympathizer. After dinner, they would relax by the fire, sipping fine wine (Harry found out he preferred rice wine. Not only was it delicious, but it got his little minx tipsy right quick.) before retiring to bed for the evening, where the Gryffindor would have his wicked way.
That was what lead them here: Harry awake first, bright and early, out of sheer habit, and Draco curled tightly into him. The warm December sunlight streamed in through the bay window of Draco's master suite, reflecting off of the silvery strands and creating an ethereal halo around his sleeping features. That pale, almost luminescent skin sharply contrasted against the black velvet of his winter comforter, pulled tight around his shoulders. Just by looking at them, Harry could taste the sweetness of this full pink lips, all natural, unlike Ginny, who smeared on pink-tinted goop that should taste like strawberries, but really just felt foul and tasted and medicinal.
"Mmm. G'morning, pet." Draco's voice was thick with sleep, slender hands reaching up to wipe the excess sleep from his eyes. Harry carefully brushed the pale blond locks away from his face, before leaning down and capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. "I suppose that means you'll be leaving soon..." Draco stated as they broke apart. Harry had become so much more gentle with him as the years wore on, but he was especially so when he needed to take his leave and return to his 'other' wife.
"I have to. I need to shower and change before tonight...or did you forget your own party?" Harry chuckled, the soft baritone shooting through Draco, warming him inside like fine whiskey.
"Of course not, love." The former Slytherin eased himself up and stretched languidly. Harry shifted behind him so Draco rested between his legs and wrapped his arms around the svelte torso, his hand roaming the smooth expanse of Draco's chest and stomach before venturing lower. The blond arched into the caress, reaching back and burying his hands into his lover's thick black hair. He turned his head to face Harry's, their lips teasing and ghosting over one another. "Don't start something you can't finish, Potter. Now are you going, or not?"
Harry did all he could to resist that tone. It turned him on in all the wrong ways, and whenever he heard it, all he wanted to do was wipe the fucking smirk off of Draco's face. Preferably with his cock.
The brunet smirked and tugged on that thick blond hair. "Don't get smart, Malfoy." Harry nipped at Draco's throat, enticing a moan. Harry reached lower, grabbing hold of Draco's manhood, already semi-hard. He ran his thumb over the leaking head. The blond gasped and arched his back, moving his hips in time with his lover's strokes. He didn't last long before his sack tightened and he cried out in release, coating Harry's hands and some of the floor with his milky seed. Harry chuckled and brought his hands up to Draco's face, who licked them clean before Harry moved away from him to collect his clothes scattered across the floor.
Draco watched silently through his post-coital haze as he moved, observing his every movement, every strain of his muscle and the heated tan flesh that stretched across it. It made him simply want to devour him. Harry caught his gaze, and he smiled sweetly as he leaned over and stole one more kiss.
"I'll see you tonight, yeah?" He asked, his lips skimming Draco's as he spoke.
"You better." Draco chuckled and Harry turned to leave. "Oh. And Harry?"
Draco smirked. "Send Ginny my love."
"Fuck you, Draco."
Harry had barely made it through the floo before Ginny was on him, incessantly chattering away.
"I'm so glad you're home, love! I was thinking tonight we could go to this wonderful little restaurant in London, absolutely everyone will be there." She chirped, flipping her fiery red hair over her shoulder in a way the somehow infuriated Harry.
"Sorry, can't make it." Harry clipped, brushing past her and striding to the bathroom. He managed to strip down to his boxers before Ginny barged right in.
"What do you mean you can't make it? I made reservations, tonight's their busiest night. We simply have to go!"
"Don't you think you could have at least asked me before you made reservations for a dinner I'll undoubtedly be paying for?" He didn't shout, but all the same Ginny gaped, rendered speechless. He didn't bother to wait for a response before he removed his boxers and stepped into the hot stream of the shower, sliding the thick glass door behind him.
It only took a few minutes before Ginny had undressed and joined him, ruining what he had hoped would be a nice relaxing shower, cutting in front of him and standing under the rushing stream. Even Harry couldn't deny how well she had blossomed throughout the years; wide hips and a nice behind (nothing compared to Draco's of course), full breasts, and the way the water ran over her body did do her a bit of justice, drenching her red hair to a deep burgundy. She wiped the water from her little round face before she stared up at him with those big blue eyes, her full, rosy lips parted almost suggestively. She had grown into more of a seductive beauty, like that of a muggle porn star. Unfortunately, looking like a porn star doesn't make one a good house wife.
"Harry, love..."she began, running her hands up Harry's soaking torso and around his shoulders, her bare chest pressed tightly to his. "Are you sure I can't change your mind?" The brunet sighed and rolled his eyes.
"I told you, I'm busy. I'm leaving shortly, actually." He replied shortly, sliding the glass door open and stepping out.
"Back to work?" Ginny asked, faint suspicion lacing her words. Harry could always tell when she had the tone in her voice, the few words spoken holding thousands of unspoken questions.
"Something like that." Harry almost felt guilty, but truth be told, she brought it on herself, this distance. This farce. She knew how she treated him, she knew the things she did. She deserved whatever he threw at her.
There was a palpable silence as Harry wiped down the foggy mirror and began to shave. Personally, he loved his stubble, because Draco loved it, but he wanted to make a good impression at his- what, boyfriend? Lover?- whatever's fete, even is that meant being clean shaven.
Ginny stood behind him, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her supple body. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line as she searched, painfully so, for the right words to say, and Harry nearly fainted when she finally found them.
"So who is she?" Their eyes locked in the mirror, but Ginny's eyes didn't hold pain or sadness, surprisingly. They held a kind of anger, a defiance that burned hot as hellfire. Her lips were fixed in a tight scowl, just waiting for the second Harry uttered a name so she could tear it to shreds with the razor's edge she called a tongue.
"There is no 'she'." Harry replied, his eyes still locked on hers, daring her to challenge his word.
"Well don't tell me it's still that prat, Malfoy." The man's head shot up, whipping around to face that smug fucking mug of hers. "What, you think I'm stupid? You think I didn't notice the way you two looked at each other back at Hogwarts. The way he always ran after you from the willow tree. The way you seemed to always...find a way to touch each other...and don't think Ron didn't tell me how you used to disappear from the dorms in the middle of the night." She thought she had him trapped, that much was obvious by the smarmy little smirk on her face. And in a way, she was right. Harry wasn't expecting her to notice all of that, and if she had, he wasn't expecting her to do much about it. She still had her claws in him, after all. Harry tried to exit without responding, but Ginny stepped in front of him, blocking the bathroom door with her small frame. Her fingers slid inside the towel Harry had wrapped around his waist, tugging on it hard enough to pull him closer. "He didn't love you the way I do, Harry." She eased up and pressed her lips to his in a soft but chaste kiss. "He can never love you like I do. Don't do something you'll regret...wherever it is you're going." Harry regarded her critically before gently pushing her aside.
"Believe me. I won't."
"So he's been having an affair for the past...what, six years? A little long to just be messing around." Pansy commented, applying her make-up in Draco's expansive vanity.
"My point is...when is he going to leave that little ginger cunt and make it official?" She pressed cigarette between her pink-painted lips before lighting it and inhaling deeply.
"We have a comfortable arrangement. He knows what I want, and when he's ready, I'll be waiting." Draco responded, brushing his hair away from his eyes as he scrambled to clean up his and Harry's mess from last night: toys, spent rubbers, the spray can of whipped cream that Draco only vaguely remembered using.
"So is it...you know. The 'L' word?" Pansy asked tentatively. She was happy for Draco, honestly, but any man who juggled partners like Harry was currently doing simply couldn't be trusted, in her book.
"Lesbians?" Draco joked, smirking at his friend.
"No, twat, not lesbians." Pansy sniped, "I mean does he love you? Enough to leave her?"
"Why are you so interested all of a sudden, Pans? It's not like me dating Potter ever bothered you before." Draco took a second to eye himself in the mirror, taking in his frame beneath one of Harry's favorite shirts: a tight black shell with a plunging neckline. Maybe he should just wear his current outfit tonight; the pewter gray yoga pants hugging his ass in all the right ways. "And besides, they aren't happy, whether or not they're together. If he didn't love me, at least a little, he wouldn't be here every night, he'd be with some other bloke or bitch." Draco sprayed on a modest amount of cologne, trying to push the thoughts away from his mind. True, he knew exactly what he wanted, he wanted Harry, all of him. They had even talked about it on numerous occasions, after Harry would come to him after rows with Ginny. Draco would ask, implore that Harry come to stay with him permanently and make it official. Every time, it was the same excuse, that he wasn't quite ready to give up the life he had, the normalcy of being married to his school sweetheart, nor could he risk the backlash against Draco, the claims of charms and Unforgivables and other dark magic that would undoubtedly strain whatever it was they had. It was complete bullocks to Draco, but he'd take what he could get, and didn't want to push the issue, lest it caused a rift between them.
"Draco, I just don't want to see you hurt. Just promise me you'll be careful. He's not the Potter we knew in school-"
"He's not the Potter you knew in school. To me, he's the same Harry who's been...seeing me for the past six years." Pansy bit gently on her lip.
"Fine. Just be careful. I have a bad feeling about tonight." Draco smiled gently, placing his slender hands on Pansy's cheeks and resting his forehead against hers. Second to Blaise, Pansy had been one of his best friends. Once she got over his misplaced affections, she provided a level-headed perspective to compliment Blaise's scheming and plotting to achieve one's ends.
"I will." He replied softly, his heart touched, if he were honest, by his friend's concern. He knew fully well that it had nothing to do with past prejudices, only sincere love for his well being that cause Pansy to act so suspicious. It was heart warming.
"Good. Now get the fuck off my face, you'll ruin my make-up. Do you want me to put out the white wine or the red wine?" Pansy asked, smiling. Draco bit back a sigh, grateful for the change in subject. He loved Pansy, really he did, but this was something he and Harry needed to deal with on their own.
"Potter." Pansy was the first to greet him as he stepped out of the floo. She had perched herself on the plush leather sofa he and Draco had shared so many times throughout the years, her legs crossed regally at the ankle and a glass of Chablis balanced in her well-manicured hand.
"Pansy." Harry regarded her carefully, taking a seat next to her on the sofa. "Where's the man of honor?" He asked casually, looking around the parlor where a few clusters of Draco's friends and acquaintances were standing and mingling.
"Upstairs primping, I'd imagine. Everyone's here, but you know how he likes to be fashionably late." Pansy didn't take her eyes off of the fireplace, and Harry could tell something was off with her. Typically, she was wild, the life of the party, knocking back drinks and laughing loud right along with Draco and Blaise. But this Pansy was reserved, her body tense and her eyes focused on something Harry couldn't see. The brunet let her sit silently, trying to ignore the awkward silence.
"How long are you going to play this game with him, Potter?" The blonde woman asked suddenly, still not taking her eyes off of the fireplace. The man started at the harsh, accusatory tone of her voice.
"Seven years, Harry. Seven years you've had him on this string, like a muggle yo-yo." Pansy turned to face him, her brown eyes burning with anger and she glared daggers at him
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Parkinson-"
"Oh please! If you were really going to leave that Weasley brat and be with Draco, you'd have done it. Do you even love him?"
"I-I don't know..."
"Seven years and you don't know? Well, whatever you plan to do, do it quick. I'm not going to let you continue to hurt him just because you want to let that red-headed gutterskank drain you're bank account. If you won't care for him, I'll show him someone who will. I'm sure Blaise won't mind taking your place, after all." The man stole a glance to the handsome Italian, who smiled and nodded politely, completely unaware of the conversation. Before Harry could answer, someone had wrapped their arms around him.
"Harry, you finally came." Draco smiled, and the brunet was grateful that he had apparently not heard any of the conversation. The blond sat comfortably down in his lover's lap and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, apparently not noticing Pansy's rueful glare piercing into Harry's emerald eyes.
"I wouldn't miss it." Harry replied quietly, running his fingers through Draco's silvery locks, staring down at him with a thoughtful expression.
"Well, I'll leave you two to cuddle. I'm going to go mingle." Pansy sighed, leaving her perch from the sofa with one last withering glare to Harry, mentally telling him that she was serious about what she had said earlier.
What she said weighed heavy on the brunet's mind. It wasn't that he didn't want to leave Ginny, start a life with Draco, a real one. In fact, he didn't really know why he hadn't made this official. Maybe he was just so resentful to the redhead that he wanted to continue to hurt her by cheating, although he knew that it was a poor excuse. It also didn't justify hurting Draco the way he, apparently, had been. Honestly though, the blond seemed so comfortable with their arrangement, and when he did ask, he just assumed that he was asking more for Harry's sake, because he didn't like to see him hurt.
She had another point as well. Their first year as some sort of couple while they were still in Hogwarts, not to mention the six years following, was an awful long time to, basically, string someone along.
"Pet, what's wrong?" Draco smiled up at him as he asked, only a faint concern shining through those stormy eyes.
"Nothing, Dragon. Just a lot on my mind. I'm gonna go out for some air, why don't you go mingle, yeah?" Harry gently eased Draco from his lap, and the blond didn't protest. His mother had always taught him that it was only proper to greet all of his guests personally. With one last peck, Draco left him to make small talk, and Harry made his way to the large French doors that led to the expansive veranda in the back of the mansion.
It was cold as the dickens, but his little Dragon was clever enough to know that the lure of the veranda's view over the blankets of snow, dyed an almost royal blue under the crystal clear night sky, was next to impossible to resist. He, therefore, cast a warming spell over the parameter, making it as comfortable as a spring afternoon.
It was a perfect place to think, and honestly, one of Harry's favorite places in the house. This instance didn't disappoint. He thought carefully about his next move regarding Draco. In retrospect, there was no longer a purpose to stay with Ginny anymore. Honestly, what wife wouldn't be outraged that her husband was sleeping around, which a man especially? Harry shook his head as he remembered the answer: a wife who didn't give a shit about her husband or what he did, as long as he kept that cash flowing. She didn't care about him anymore, he didn't care about her, it was that simple, and they were, for the most part, fine. But here was Draco, almost uncharacteristically devout to Harry, worrying himself sick while he was away on business or out in the field of battle, being left in the cold when Harry left to go home. No, not home. Back the that dreadful hag waiting for him back in awful townhouse in Diagon. It wasn't the least bit fair to any of them really, except maybe Ginny.
"Harry?" Draco's voice cut through the silence, startling Harry out of his reverie before he turned to face the blond. Great, he'd gone and done it again. If the troubled expression was anything to go on, Draco was worrying once again about Harry's well-being. "Love, are you sure you're alright? You've been out here a while."
The blond moved closer and the former Gryffindor took him into his arms, pressing his lips against his boyfriend's temple as he spun them around so that he was once again facing the back yard. That was what this was, simple as that, Harry decided. Draco was his very caring, loving, spoiled-rotten boyfriend. "I'm fine, sweetheart. I've just had quite a bit on my mind."
"Really? Like what?" Draco asked, big gray eyes staring deeply into Harry's.
"Oh, Merlin, you've been talking to Pansy, haven't you?" The former Slytherin rolled his eyes. Harry chuckled. Apparently the woman had shared words with Draco about this as well.
"I did. We didn't talk long, but she gave me a lot to think about and-"
"Holy shit." Draco dead-panned, and it was then that Harry realized that the Slytherin's focus was no long on him, but rather peering back into the house, where the glass doors gave a clear view into the parlor. The brunet turned, and his heart nearly stopped for the umpteenth time in his life.
"I'll be right back." Harry murmured darkly before he stormed into the house.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Harry growled as he pulled the gate crasher into the kitchen, the few party-goers that straggled around knowing well enough to leave.
Ginny Potter smiled sweetly up at him, batting her mascaraed eyes. If Harry wasn't filled with a near violent hate for her right now, he couldn't help but admit, once again, that she was quite beautiful. Her hair fell over one shoulder in gentle waves, stopping to rest over her breast, and the her frame was wrapped in a tight, metallic emerald green cocktail dress that stopped mid-thigh and bared her shapely legs. She knew Harry was staring, so she adjusted her weight to one leg, her hip jutting out just so. "Why, Harry, what kind of wife would I be if I weren't on my loving husband's arm at an event like this? It just wouldn't be proper."
"Screw proper. How did you even know I was here?"
"I have my ways, but that's not important right now. Shouldn't you be introducing me to the other guests?" Ginny smirked, lightly tugging on her husband's tie.
"Ginny, those people could care less who you-"
"Harry, there you are! Be a dear and check on Blaise, will you? You know how he gets with the wine." Harry silently thanked whatever god was listening that Draco had intervened. "I'd do it myself, but you know Malfoy protocol. I simply must greet our new guest properly." He stared Ginny down, and they both sported venomous smirks.
"Potter. Misses Potter." Ginny interrupted, her smirk growing wider. Draco merely rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Misses Potter. Do you mind telling me what the hell you think you're doing in my home?"
"Why, Malfoy, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." The woman chided, her tone sweet.
"Ha! Please. Malfoy's don't get jealous."
"Oh, right, I forgot. Although I wouldn't blame you if you were. And if you must know, I'm here to be with my husband, as any good wife should. Moral support, you know?" Draco scoffed. The fact that she could call herself Harry's wife was enraging. Every meal he ate came from Draco's table, cooked with his bare hands, every ounce of pleasure that reverberated through him came from Draco's willing body. Could that bitch say the same for herself? "Listen, Malfoy, I don't know what you're playing at, but whenever you get it in your head that you stand a chance with Harry as anything more than his whore, just remember who has the ring." The former Gryffindor held up her manicured hand(at Harry's expense, no doubt.) and flashed the silver and diamond wedding band. Considering the amount of money Harry had to spare, the ring was quite mediocre, only a small princess-cut diamond in the middle of a plain band.
"And whenever you get it in your empty head that Harry gives a shit about you or that pathetic little bottom-of-the-cereal-box bauble you're flashing around, just remember who the first person is he sees in the morning, and the last person he sees before he goes to bed."
Ginny's face darkened and the smirk dropped from her lips, which elated Draco to no end. Satisfied, he turned and began to strut out of the kitchen before the woman stopped him.
"I don't understand what he possibly sees in you." She sneered, and Draco turned to smile at her. Her face was pinched and burning red.
"Oh, I know exactly what he sees in me." The blond laughed before he saucily smacked him designer slacks-covered behind. "And now you get to watch it walk away." With an uncharacteristic laugh, the blond exited the kitchen, but quickly popped his head back in for one last note. "Oh, and feel free to stay. Help yourself to some champagne. Something tells me this may be the last night you'll be able to afford it."
"I can't believe he spoke to me like that! How could you possibly be seen around someone so deplorable, talking to your wife that way?" Ginny vented, puffing on a clove cigarette out on the veranda. She was absolutely shaking with rage after being humiliated the way she was in the kitchen of Malfoy's mansion. Harry took a deep drag of his own cigarette, not paying attention to the woman's ranting. Personally, he wished he had been there to see it, but thankfully Pansy, a known eavesdropper who had apparently forgotten all about her beef with him, had filled him on what had been said. "And you!" She continued, "You didn't stand up for me! Have you even spoken to him about all of this?"
"See? What good are you?"
"I'm sorry, last I checked, I was the reason you've been out of that over-crowded shit-hole and living the lap of fucking luxury! Hell, I'm the reason you're still alive and not living under the rule of some nose-less psychopath!" Ginny gaped at him, her blue eyes shocked and filling with unshed tears, but Harry wasn't through with her yet. "Gods, Ginny, when such an ungrateful bitch?"
"I don't know, Harry, probably around the time you started fucking cheating on me!"
"Can you blame me? Out of curiosity, Gin, what is it you do all day while I'm out getting curses fired at me, hm? Besides blow my money? I mean, you don't even clean for god sake, and you have the nerve to call yourself my wife?" Harry raked a hand through his hair. "And I could forgive all of that, let all of that go, if you at least pretended that you cared."
"And you think Malfoy does?"
"Yes. You can't come close to what Draco gives me. He takes care of me, he listens to me, he treats me in a way you couldn't even hope to. And I think I should consider a life with him instead." Harry finished calmly., "I also think you should leave. I'll be round with a few aurors to get my things tomorrow."
Ginny's breathing was ragged, and Harry was sure she was going to scream at the top of her lungs, but she didn't. She turned on her designer stiletto heels and stormed through the house, knocking poor innocent party-goers out of her way (well, maybe not so innocent, Harry thought, as one of them threw their drink on her in retaliation for her rudeness.)
"Well, that went better than I thought would." Came a familiar drawl, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Draco smirked before moving toward him, wrapping his arms around his love's waist and Harry reciprocated in kind.
The Gryffindor couldn't describe the lightness he felt, despite the hostility of the situation that had just transpired or the hell that was waiting for him at his townhouse.
"So what does this mean for us?" Draco continued, curiosity sparkling in those bright steel eyes. Harry placed his forehead on the blond's, closing his eyes in contentment.
"This means I'm all yours." Harry's smile fell, and for a moment, Draco was concerned, until the brunet buried his hands into Draco's hair and spoke again, uttering the words the blond had been dying to hear for the longest time. "Draco...I'm so sorry for everything. For all the pain I put you through. I know I don't have a right to ask forgiveness, but I want you to know...I love you." The blond's heart nearly stopped at the admission, his brain unable to form the words that his lips were just dying to speak.
"I love you, too, Harry. So much..."
It had taken Draco seven years of hard work to hears those words, but just as he hoped, it was worth every second.
A/N: So, between changes at school, changes (and mass confusion) at work, general writer's block, and working on ANOTHER fic that I just go too excited about, it took me a while to finish this. But, on the bright side, it's 8 FREAKIN' PAGES! That's a personal record, friends! I wanted the end to be sappy and sweet, to counter-balance Harry's douchebaggery in the previous fics. Hopefully everyone is happy with how this turned out. Anyway, enough rambling. Review please!