Friday, 11th February.
Draco was bored. He sighed dramatically to himself, absentmindedly tapping his foot against the kitchen table. The cooking was as done as it could be until Harry got back with that damn couscous - which was going to take a while thanks to the freshly iced-over roads that came all-too often. Well, that's what you get for choosing craggy, old Northumberland for a home Draco thought to himself ruefully, starting to pace. There was no housework left, nothing on TV but reality-show drivel, no research for work... Draco sighed again. Giving into his boredom, he decided to nose about.
It was one of Draco's favorite pastimes; snooping around other people's houses, but, in the absence of that, his own abode had to do. Draco supposed that this habit stemmed from his childhood - spent in some of the largest homes of the English gentry - he was never short of nooks and crannies to explore. Smiling at the memories, Draco remembered how the adults had frowned upon it, and how, in his childish wanderland of rooms and curio's he did not care. But now, he and Harry had settled on a "modest" six bedroom house in the middle of blissful nowhere. Only Draco referred to the house as "modest", a statement that had caused many arguments when the couple were picking out a house close to a year ago: Draco, naturally, would've preferred a much larger place, but Harry simply refused - adamantly insisting that they only had need for two or three rooms at best. Six was a compromise both of them could live with, not too grand, not too demure.
"I guess that's what living in a cupboard for years does to a guy," Draco said aloud to fill the silence of the halls.
Talking to himself was a bad habit Draco would never admit to.
Smiling wistfully, picking up and inspecting little ornaments and heirlooms he'd half forgotten about, slowly meandering through the halls. Eventually he found himself in one of the more modest guest bedrooms. Quite a quaint and pretty place, Draco mused, all lavender, cream and wicker furniture that gave the room a cosy, artsy feel. Draco quite liked the room, it was reminiscent of what spring looks like to someone stuck out in the autumn winds. He sighed and lay down on the untouched bed, staring up at the dappled-cream ceiling.
Turning onto his side in an effort to get up Draco felt something hard against his elbow. He lifted up the downy pillow to reveal a small oak box. It couldn't have been larger than an average book, but deeper. Yes, squarer and deeper with a delicate flora design engraved into the hinge-lid of the box.
"How intriguing," Draco commented, smiling at the childish little pulse-flutter he felt at the mystery.
Not hesitating a moment longer he flicked open the brushed copper clasp and flipped open the lid: to his surprise the other four walls of the box unfolded to lie flat and the soft, lingering, unmistakable smell of daffodils (unashamedly his favorite flower) drifted up to his nose as little yellow pressed petals spilt from the box, contrasting wonderfully with the soft lavender of the bedspread. And in the center of the beautiful disarray of petals was a letter, written on beautiful soft paper in what Draco instantly recognised as Harry's handwriting; and a little royal blue box lay next to it.
Giddy with excitement Draco eagerly read on:
Darling, I sat down one night to write you a cute little couplet
But not half of my thoughts alone could fit,
And lest I neglected
Some small sentiment we treasured
I thought it wise to let the matter simply sit.
And the next night apart I sat with the damned pen in my hand,
Praying for something to spill into verse
But nothing I knew, lyric nor prose,
Could even begin to come close
To describing the inspiration I feel from you.
And the night after that was spent with my damned head in my hand,
Desperately trying to concoct up a sonnet
For you I attempted twelve lines then fourteen
With rhyme every second then third set
But nothing quite matched the beautiful shape that's you.
So, after all, I constructed this instead.
It's certainly not the epic, the ulysses you deserve
It's not the romantic Romeo-song you probably had planned.
But it's yours, and I hope that it's enough.
Because you are beautiful,
You are endless in every way,
You are wild beyond belief
And deserve to be told this every single day,
I guess, all I'm trying to say:
I love you,
I'm glad we exist.
By the end of the letter Draco felt time slow down, it was almost like he knew what was coming next. Carefully, he reached for and opened that last box, the royal blue satin slipped gently through his fingers as he lifted the lid and there - in that same handwriting, almost etched into the pure white lining of the box where those words: Will you marry me. And, in the slot below it; a ring.
Almost reverently lifted it out of it's silken confines. It was beautiful. Shiny gold embedded with three stones: a large, bright white diamond; coupled on the left by a slightly smaller emerald; and a ruby on the right. Draco was close to tears. It was so lovely, so beautiful. He held the small treasure in his hand, completely at a loss of what to do. Of rcouse, he wanted to put it on and wear it and feel it forever - but Harry had obviously had plans, and with Valentine's day fast approaching it wasn't hard to hazard a guess as to what those plans might have been...
There was a clatter downstairs. "I'm home!" called Harry, startling Draco out of his reverie.
"Hey, where are you?" came Harry's voice again, quieter this time and from what sounded like the bottom of the stairs.
Draco's mind went in to hyperspeed. He knew Harry wouldn't be angry if he knew that Draco'd found the box, but he could be upset. But there was no way that Draco would be able to keep his mouth shut about finding it, and besides, with Harry already being at the bottom of the stairs, there was very little chance that Draco'd be able to put the box back perfectly and escape to another room before Harry noticed. And if he saw Draco running away it would look an awful lot worse than if he just came clean.
Coming to a snap decision, Draco grabbed the ring tight in his fist and leapt up off the bed. Flying down the hall and down the stairs he met the very confused Harry Potter with a giant hug that knocked both of them to the floor, Draco planting messy kisses all over Harry's startled, but smiling face.
"What's happened?" asked Harry from where he'd propped himself up on the wall.
Draco suddenly felt a little shy, not too sure how to continue he settled for simply opening his hand to reveal the ring and said "I found it."
"Oh," said Harry, growing still. "I was going to give it to you on Valentine's Day."
Draco slid up a little closer to him. "Will you...will you put the ring on my finger for me?"
Harry's face lit up instantly. "You say yes!"
"Did you honestly think I was ever going to say no?" Draco laughed.
"No, no I guess not," smiled Harry, kneeling up opposite Draco's already kneeling form.
"Draco," he said formally, taking Draco's left hand. "It would be an honor to be your husband."
He slid the ring into place, his other hand finding Draco's jaw and drawing their faces together, their lips slowly touching in a chaste kiss. As Harry grew more hungry he licked a gentle line between Draco's lips, who gave him entrance. His tongue slipping inside, he traced the familiar line of Draco's teeth and the roof of his mouth before sliding across Draco's own tongue, elicting a soft gasp and drawing Draco into the dance.
Draco's hands found Harry's face, the slight cold of the ring against Harry's cheek sent his mind reeling with joy, pulling his fiancee closer, their breath starting to get short they reluctantly let their lips separate.
"...the floor's cold," Harry said eventually, once he'd caught his breath.
Draco laughed. "You're too cute," he said, the smile lingering on his wet lips. "Shut up, okay?"
Harry was starting his no-doubt witty response when Draco slammed their lips together, the hunger returning instantly - Draco's back arching into Harry's chest as he shifted to sit astride his lover's legs, using his vantage point to push his tongue deeper into the waiting, hot mouth. Harry groaned and enjoyed the feel of Draco's exploratory tongue. But soon he got restless.
Grabbing Draco by the shirt collar, he pushed him back down onto the hard floor, reveling at the little clicking sound the ring made as Draco's hand hit against the floor. Harry pulled Draco's shirt off, grinning at his gasp of shock at the chill, his back arching off the floor.
"Told you it was cold," said Harry simply.
Draco smiled but said nothing, his fingers were absentmindedly toying with the hem of Harry's shirt - lifting and dropping it, letting his fingers stroke on the soft, warm skin hidden below. Noticing Harry was watching him, his mouth dry, Draco gave a more forceful tug at the fabric. Harry took the hint and effortlessly pulled it off over his head while Draco unceremoniously kicked off his trousers and boxers, hissing once more at the feel of the floor.
Harry's mind flooded with pleasure and before long Draco was twisting on the floor, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fingers tangled in Harry's soft ebony curls, and his mouth open in gasps for air and silent moans as Harry licked and sucked his way across Draco's body. Except where it was needed. He teasingly skirted the area until Draco was barely literate. Harry put his fingers to Draco's lips, who took them in gratuitously - licking and nipping at the digits in a very purposeful imitation of fellatio, his eyes fixed on Harry
Unable to take the piercing blue-gray stare any longer Harry withdrew his fingers and, leaning sitting up slightly to get a better angle, slid two carefully inside Draco. His eyes widened for a moment but Harry stayed perfectly still and Draco soon adjusted. Once Harry felt Draco relax and, his lips kissing and whispering soothing nothings against Draco's neck, he begun to twist and move his fingers, slowly adding more until he was sure Draco was ready.
"Come on, Harry, please," Draco said breathily.
Harry nodded against his chest in reply, not wanting to part from the ivory body beneath him enough to murmur a reply. His hand slid out smoothly and he hurriedly replaced it with his more-than-ready cock. Draco's arms wrapped instinctively around Harry's back; drawing him closer - trying to pull him further inside. Harry rolled over slightly, his arms wrapped just below Draco's, he didn't have very much room to move so, his breath coming heavy against Draco's cheek, he settled into a steady rhythm of swinging his hips in and out of Draco, trying to find the right angle.
Draco felt every small, shallow yet resonating slide into him run like electricity through his body - he had very little doubt that Harry would end up with bruises on his back from where he was clutching him. But when Harry finally hit home Draco found that he could hardly care about any bruises he or Harry may suffer. He arched his back - desperately trying to meet each one of Harry's thrusts.
"H-Harry, I'm gonna..." Draco managed.
"Now, then, now," Harry panted.
Draco spilled white between their two bodies and onto the dark, wooden floor - his contractions bringing Harry to the brink. Draco twisted his head around and, slamming their lips together messily, swallowed Harry's moan as he came inside of him. The couple lay still for a long while before finally shaking themselves out of the post-coital stupor that had befallen them.
"Come on, love, we'll get sore backs sleeping on the floor like that," Harry said, carding his hand through Draco's hair.
"Mmph, just 'cause we're engaged now - doesn't mean that we'll start getting creaky old bones," Draco grumbled.
"Sure, sure," Harry admitted, grinning cheekily. "But if we go upstairs, I sure could go for a round on my knees."
Draco laughed a little, jumping up from the floor. "Be careful, Mr. Potter - I'm going to hold you to that," he smiled, almost racing up the stairs.
A/N: Phew, that's better - got all the fluff out of my system. Sorry it's a bit late (better late then never *blahblah*) :P Hope you liked it - I'm not so keen on the ending myself. Meh.
And for those of you reading my regular stories - this is proof I'm not dead, just really easily distracted. A thousand apologies!
Love you all x x x