FIC: History Lessons (Harry/Draco)

[bottom_draco_comm]

Title: History Lessons
Author/Artist: sapphoatsunset 
Prompt: PROMPT # 7
Adapted from: How I Met Your Mother
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry/Pansy, Harry/OFC, Ron/Hermione,
Word Count/Art Medium: 5008
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *Pranks, jokes, bets, not necessarily canon, tomfoolery, slash, Harry in relationships with others, history twisted in tangents, angst, humor, attempted Brit-isms, Americanisms (I’m hoping most of these have been spotted and stripped out), EWE, & semi-literal at parts which is hopefully okay*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Oh sweet Jesus, I hope this is okay! It was too tempting to resist, but I must warn that I have only written Harry Potter once or twice before. So, forgive me? Luckily, I had an awesome beta to keep me on track! Thank you K! ♥ Also, please note that I am taking creative license and ignoring the epilogue and anything to do with it. (Though, spoiler: Sev is dead.)

It should be stated that this thing took on a mind of its own. I cannot be blamed for the tangents when certain characters hijacked the plot right from under my fingers. Or maybe that was the keyboard and my brain. Either way, I did not anticipate all of this when I set out to write this fic, but I wouldn’t change a thing. ^_^

Finally, thank you to dracogotgame for the awesome prompt that got me off my ass to write fic again, especially since it’s not the fandom I typically write despite reading it voraciously. You are obviously made of pure win~!

Inspired by episodes: 1, 2, 4, 7, 10, & 17 (Season 1)

Summary: Sometimes love is a flash in the pan. Other times, it’s a saga. This could be a little of both.

Every story has a beginning.
This one just might have several…
I made me laugh! -- How I Met Your Mother

“Twenty-five years ago, before I was ‘Dad’, I had this whole other life,” Harry intoned, leaning back in his recliner with a tumbler of firewhiskey—on the rocks, of course. His husband hated the thing, because it ‘didn’t match any of our other fine furnishings and just what is so wrong with the settee?’ but Harry was proud to say he’d won that battle, even if he’d then ceded the furnishings war to His Loftiness.

“A few years back, Ron, and I had moved into an apartment together. The war had ended only months before that, but we’ll skip over that for now, and those university years. I’ll get back to them…” Harry murmured, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes as he meandered his way through his life story.

“Is this going to take long?” Scorpius asked. “You know, before the turn of the century?”

Harry just continued, smiling. “I came home one day, and Ron looked well anxious about something. That’s when I learned that…”

“Ron?” Harry said, hesitantly as he walked in the door. His best friend was pacing with a small box and hitting the wall every so often.

Ron looked up and smiled—the smile of a desparate person: crazed and a little too bright. “Harry! You’ve got to help me. This—“ he thrust the box at Harry. “This is okay, right? I’m gonna ask ‘Mione to—to—“ he stuttered. “You know…” Looking imploringly at his best mate, Ron waved his hands around, flailing helplessly.

“You gotta help me with this, mate! Please?!”

Harry took one look in the box and suddenly understood. “Marriage? You can just ask her… Say ’Mione, I love you. Will you marry me?’ and then show the ring. She says yes and you’re engaged. Just like that.” On the inside, Harry was conflicted. He was glad that his best mates were getting more serious, finally, but at the same time, he remembered how lonely he was himself.

“Okay. So… Open the box and say ‘Will you marry me?’ like that? No sparkles or flowers or candles or any of that?” Ron asked.

“She’ll just tell you that you’re wasting the candles and that the flowers need to be in a vase and ask if you’ve charmed them yet to last. You’ll never get the chance to ask the important questions,” Harry grinned, chuckling.

“Right. Thanks, mate.” Ron beamed and closed the box. “Now how about a beer with my mate before she gets here for dinner?”

Harry grinned and nodded, “You’re kidding, right? You and ‘Mione… you’re my best mates. I’ve been there for all the big moments, and I’m glad to be here for this one too. The first train ride when we all met, your first kiss, the first time she nagged—wait, that was on the train too—other firsts too…” he walked into the kitchen after his reminiscent tangent and grabbed a frosty bottle for each of them from the refrigerator as Ron teased him.

“Sorry mate… thought you were asleep. And you still forget you’re a wizard… You could have summoned those.” Ron grinned.

“And have ‘Mione walk in and catch me being lazy? No way, mate. That’s on you. And no one was asleep anymore when she started moaning. You forgot your silencing charm, Mr Wizard.” Harry handed over the extra beer, and clinked his own against the bottle now in Ron’s hand. “Cheers, mate.”

Ron chuckled too, blushing as red as his hair, and they leant against the counter in the kitchen, drinking.

However, Harry couldn’t stay forever with someone waiting for him. After finishing his beer, he left to go to the Leaky Cauldron, parting with a shot over his shoulder. “Don’t have sex on our kitchen table after proposing!” He would be disgusted for the rest of time and never able to eat there again if Ron and Hermione got frisky there.

# # #

“Where’s your suit? Just once when I ask you to suit up, I wish you would!” Draco asked, looking over Harry’s outfit with disdain.

“I did, that one time—“

Draco cut Harry off with a scathing look and his tone wasn’t much better. “That was a blazer! And off the rack too. Trop gauche!” The blond finished in French. “Really, if we must wear Muggle clothes, then it better be DESIGNER!” he concluded with a flourish.

Harry ignored him, leaning against the bar while Draco proceed to rant about the Leaky and the quality of their fare, and began to speak himself anyways. News like this was more important than Draco’s continual whinging and dramatics. “You know. Ever since the First Year, it’s been Ron and Hermione and me. Now it’ll be Ron and Hermione… And me. They get married and start a family and then I’ll be that weird middle aged bachelor their kids call Uncle Harry—“

Harry was cut off by a blow to the head and the exclamation, “Are you paying attention, or not? Don’t get all sentimental, you Hufflepuff of a Gryffindor. You don’t have to wear the wedding noose yet. Not until you’re thirty! Now, seriously, we gotta get you a suit.”

With that, Harry was dragged out of the Leaky and down to the international port key office. Soon, Harry found himself walking down the street in Milan, and wondering why someone would pay so much for a bit of cloth.

“Because it’s sexy. Exhibit A right here. I’m awesomely sexy,” Draco purred and preened, answering the question that must have been all over his face because he didn’t remember opening his mouth. Harry was too shell-shocked by this whirlwind. Then again, it was nothing new…

“Draco was always getting an idea, and with his dedication to instant gratification, I found myself spun up in his schemes way too often.” Harry murmured, smiling fondly with a touch of exasperation. “I don’t know if he’ll ever grow out of that… But where was I?”

“Done hopefully?” A portrait of Severus quipped dryly while his children high-fived each other. They could always count of Sev to give their father a hard time.

“Hush, Sev. You know you like this story…” Harry sipped his whiskey before nodding. “Ah, yes…”

“Harry, say I’m awesomely sexy.” Draco got in his face, demanding.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re awesomely sexy, Draco. Now can we just get this torture over with? I swear, you’re a sadist!” Harry responded, running into someone because he wasn’t looking where he was going.

“Pansy!” Harry heard Draco exclaim and it was hard to stifle his groan, until he saw her and then he was groaning for a completely different reason. “What are you doing here, love? And where have you been? You look marvelous. See Harry, this is what suiting up could do for you.”

Harry rubbed a palm over his face and chose to keep silent. With this duo, he was now screwed, even if it had been years since any of them saw her last. In fact, silence was probably the best thing he could do because she was looking a lot less like the pug-face he remembered and a lot more model-esque. Draco would call it ‘svelte’ probably. Harry bit his bottom lip and shook his head, tuning back into the conversation.

“Yeah, after the war my parents and I went to Germany. They’re staying, despite us all being pardoned. I suppose I’m supposed to thank you, Harry?” Pansy turned and looked at him, and Harry felt like he was being dissected and measured up for worth.

“No problem. We were schoolmates,” he laughed nervously, and looked to Draco for help.

Draco sighed and shook his head. “This is another reason to suit up Harry. So, Pansy, have you met the new Harry? I forced him to get his eyes fixed a few years ago and now he might pass as scrumptious. If you have enough liquor first.” Draco laughed, entirely too amused at himself.

Pansy just nodded and eyed the boy wonder again. “What are you doing, Harry? Off saving more people?”

“Currently, Draco is dragging me to my death via shopping. Other times, I’m an interior designer. –Don’t laugh!” Harry responded, tacking on the last part in defense. “You?”

Pansy didn’t just laugh. She giggled and snorted, but somehow the snorts were both elegant and cute to Harry. “I’m currently—“

Draco interrupted with a laugh of his own, “Pansy, dear, you really ought to get that awful noise checked out. Now, you’re interrupting our shopping, so unless you’re joining us?”

Pansy glared at Draco and fired a hex in his direction to silence him before continuing. “I’m currently a reporter for The Quibbler. I’m only doing obits, but I’m hoping that I’ll get to do feature articles soon. Would you let me interview you?” She asked in her most seductive voice, equal parts lioness and damsel.

“I… I…” Harry stuttered. “Tomorrow? The Leaky? Dinner?”

Pansy beamed, nodded, blew Harry a kiss, and hit Draco across the face. “Now that was fun! A finite should fix him up!” she called over her shoulder, and walked away, and Harry found himself more concerned with that for a moment until Draco hit him in retaliation for his delay. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, and muttered, “Finite Incantatem.”

“Thank you. Took you long enough. She always was a twat!” Draco muttered and dragged him into a store where he proceeded to torture him for three hours straight, in and out of different outfits. It seemed the pureblood would only be satisfied when Harry had a whole new wardrobe, and he didn’t feel like arguing. Draco was just too feisty and he was busy pondering the question of Pansy over and over again.

“You liked Aunt Pansy!?” Albus exclaimed, staring in horror for only a moment before snickering. “And I thought you said I had taste issues. Wait, it was Father that said my tastes ‘left much to be desired.’” Albus shook his head. “Besides, she’s a cougar. Wasn’t she one then too?”

“If you’d stop interrupting me, you’d know,” Harry murmured, shaking his head. Rising, he poured himself more firewhiskey, walking while he told the next part of the story.

Dinner with Pansy was, to put it mildly, a laugh riot. Harry didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed her before. She was funny, and she laughed at his jokes—they were all horrible, especially the one about that candlestick looking like a hippogriff’s penis. And, it didn’t matter to Harry if she only laughed because she was humouring him.

Harry made a mental note not to bring up hippogriff penises on a first date again, even if he wasn’t sure this was a date, but she had laughed anyways. When it was over, he headed back to his place—the place he shared with Ron—to share the news.

“I have just identified the future Mrs Potter!” Harry exclaimed as he walked through the door.

“Wait! Let me guess!” Ron rushed to get his ideas out. “She likes quidditch, and cats, and whiskey older than mankind?”

“That’s not all,” Harry added with a smile. “She absolutely hates olives. It’s perfect!”

Hermione smiled, remembering. “Oh, the olive theory…” A soft sigh followed.

“So, did you kiss her?” Ron and Hermione both waited eagerly for an answer.
Harry had to shake his head ruefully. There was only one answer to that. “It wasn’t the right time…”

“Harry James Potter! You have to kiss her! Even the most idiotic single person alive knows that! Call him.”

Harry grimaced, listening to more scolding before picking up the phone.

“Are you having fun not being awesome? Because being awesome is pretty awesome. I’m awesome at it,” Draco said in a rush as he scanned the field, looking for the snitch in a pick-up game of quidditch. “Blaise, if you hit me with that, I’ll bang your mom. You know she loves me.”

Harry shook his head and mouthed ‘quidditch with Blaise’ to Hermione and Ron before speaking into the phone. “I need some advice. And aren’t you glad you got a phone like I told you too? Sometimes I’m pretty awesome too…”

“The Leaky. Be there in fifteen minutes. And suit up!” Draco responded, ignoring the comment about mobile phones and Harry being awesome. Harry knew Draco liked it better when no one was more awesome than himself; the alternative did not compute in his mind.

# # #

When Draco arrived at the Leaky, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were already there. “Hermione and Ron are yelling at me because I didn’t kiss Pansy. But she didn’t give the signal. She might not have considered it a date, even if I did!”

“Wait, you didn’t kiss her? And you didn’t confirm that it was a date? Potter, I’ve always known you were an idiot, but this takes the treacle tart.” Draco shook his head and sighed. “Did you expect her to be like ‘Oh yes, Harry…. Kiss me!’?” The blond batted his eyelashes and raised the pitch of his voice to sound female.

“For the last time: She. Did. Not. Give. The. Signal.” Harry was exasperated. They were ganging up on him, but he was still sure he’d done the right thing.

A sudden action cut off his train of thought and he stared as Draco pulled Ron in for a fierce kiss. “See? Ron didn’t give the signal!” Draco said, triumphant about proving his point.

“And?”

“—I didn’t. ‘Mione, I swear I didn’t! I didn’t give it! Oh god… I was kissed by the ferret! I need a cleansing charm… Quick!!!” Ron exclaimed, growing more and more distraught until Draco cut him off with his patented and very effective eyeroll—100% satisfaction rate because it paid to be so awesome!

“See? At least now I can sleep tonight knowing Ron and I… We’re just never gonna happen.” Draco grinned, assured that he’d won the argument.

“I could have told you that…” Harry murmured dryly, and shook his head. “She had to rush off to a story. It wasn’t the right moment to kiss the future Mrs Potter for the first time.”

Draco stared and then sighed. “You are so delusional.”

“I asked her about it years later. Turns out, when she paused and lingered before apparating to her destination, it was the signal and I could have kissed her. Guess I was too close to everything to see it clearly. Even a pensieve wouldn’t have helped that.” Harry smiled nostalgically. “But, it’s okay, because that, kids, is the story of how I reunited with and befriended your Aunt Pansy.”

“I thought this was how you met Father!?” Scorpius exclaimed.

“I’m getting there. It’s a long story.” Harry ignored the groans from his children; this would teach them that life was rarely a straightforward path.

“She wants casual? I can do casual… I’ll be a cyclone of casual. A tsunami of casual. I’ll be so casual, they’ll make a new word for it,” Harry exclaimed in incongruous metaphors, getting a determined glint in his eyes that never boded well for his own livelihood.

“You don’t get there unless you play the game. Am I right? And I’m damn good at quidditch.” Harry finished, only to be cut off by Draco, “Please! As if! Just because my uncle bought you a fancy broom, that doesn’t mean you’re good at quidditch.” There was a sneer in his voice and a curl in his lip, and Harry shook his head, chuckling. “Jealous of the Gryffindor record, Malfoy?”

With that, Harry’s determination was forgotten. Well, by everyone except Harry because Harry was harnessing his Slytherin side and plotting. He just needed to know what she liked. Maybe he needed a deal with the devil… Fucking hell!

# # #

“Come on, Draco! You’ve known her forever!” Harry pleaded.

“So have you, which is why you should know that she’s not the right one for you. Seriously, it was amusing when you were whinging on about it not being the right moment but this is just pathetic!” Draco responded, in a scathing voice that harkened back to pre-war Draco.

For his part, Harry didn’t know why Draco was being such an arse. Instead of fighting, he threw another pleading look in the other male’s direction. “I just need a hint about what she’d like. Surely it can’t be that hard! Easier than finding a bloke to go down on in the men’s,” he joked, teasing Draco about his sluttish predilections.

Sighing, Draco practically glared at the hero of the Wizarding World. “Fine. Swiss chocolate, French cuisine, and Italian fashion or opera. If you set up an evening like that, she’ll be putty in your hands, but don’t complain to me if she’s too alpha female for you. Seems like you need a Hufflepuff to fit in your perfect picket fence future,” he finished, half teasing, half snide. “Now, go make something legen—wait for it—dary for Pansy or I’ll have your arse, and not in a way you’d find pleasurable.” The Slytherin threatened, pulling himself up to his full height to be appropriately intimidating on behalf of his bosom friend.

Harry ignored the comments about alphas and Hufflepuffs, nodding. “Thanks. Will do.”

The scowl on Draco’s face indicated he was less than pleased with that show of gratitude.

# # #

“You know, Harry, originally I just thought about using you for my career. Writing an article and cementing my place on the front page bylines. And then… then you did this.” Pansy sighed, smiling.

They were sitting at a restaurant along the Champs-Elysees near l’Arc de Triomphe, and Pansy was staring at the monument with a far off expression in her eyes that Harry couldn’t dissect. “Did you know that Robespierre was really a Wizard? And a revolutionary? Not like You-Know-Who. More like yourself in that he believed he was doing something righteous. And really, Marie Antoinette was little more than a trollop in regards to mental capacity,” Pansy sniffed.

“But of course, everyone demonizes Robespierre even though he was a visionary, yet they celebrate Napoleon who was little more than an oppressive muggle imperialist. ” Pansy sounded disgusted, nodding towards the monument. “Besides, he was short.”

Harry stared for a moment before shaking his head; he didn’t know French history enough to comment on the man specifically and Pansy seemed a bit intense just then. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin their date.

“Hermione claims Shakespeare was a Wizard too. I just think the Wizarding World likes to claim brilliant muggles. Like if Canada tried to claim they’d ever won a single war on their own,” Harry trailed off with a chuckle, the noise quickly dying when he saw her raised eyebrow. Despite his desires, it seemed like he’d said the wrong thing after all.

“Those muggles of yours did you no good,” she sighed, shaking her head. She finished her tart and then murmured, “I believe you had another surprise in store? I’ll come back to talk about Robespierre with Draco who will appreciate the finer points of pureblood history.”

Her voice sounded agreeable, but Harry worried he was just messing it all up, and resolved to do at least one thing right. Nodding absently, he paid for the check and then took her hand, apparating them to Milan where a fashion house had agreed to remain open for the evening. “I thought, maybe, you’d like to get something from their newest line.” He hoped he hadn’t fucked up by picking the wrong designer, but apparently, Versace never went out of style.

Pansy beamed, seeming impressed, and they walked inside together. And everything went just fine until Pansy stepped out in the first outfit, a muggle style sheath dress that showed off her ample cleavage, and Harry stared. “I think I’m in love with you,” he murmured in a surprised tone, promptly blushing. “Er, I mean… I never said that. Just forget I said that. It’s way too soon to say that.”

Pansy stared and then shook her head. “You’re buying me this and then you’re taking me home. I don’t mean for sex. I’m not looking for love and frankly, you’re too clingy and too unaware of pureblood history for my taste.” She sniffed again before smiling, “But, if you want to give me an interview, I’ll always be open to that.”

“It was over just like that? Wow, that sucks Dad, but you were a real idiot to go out with her in the first place,” Albus said, grinning.

“Hush. Do you want to know how I fell in love with your Father, or not?”

“I guess I do,” Albus sighed, and conjured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. This was taking way too damn long.

Harry chuckled, and rolled his neck around to stretch. “I’d hoped to forget about her, but Draco was bribing her to humiliate herself. I’ll admit, it was even funny then.”

“Did you see the Quibbler this morning?” Draco asked with glee. He was exuberant with it, and Harry was a little worried about what that could mean.

“Yeah. What about it?” Harry asked, voice wary.

“You didn’t notice?! Did you read the obituaries? Please tell me you did… Fuck, this isn’t worth the money I’m paying her if you’re not reading the obituaries. She needs to be on the front damn page for this to be effective,” Draco groused. Certainly it wasn’t that he cared more for the success of his prank than for Harry’s bruised feelings.

“I dared her—and bribed her with Louis Vuitton—to write ‘and my mother fucked my father in the arse with a pink dildo’ in one of the obits to see if people would even notice. She did it! Isn’t that fantastic?”

“Seriously? Don’t you think that that could end badly for her?” Harry wore a concerned face, even though he really didn’t want to be concerned over an ex. Did she even count as an ex? It was so short…that relationship.

“It’s not my fault if she’s bribed easily. If she cared more about her job and less about fashion that she can’t currently afford, then she wouldn’t do it. Besides, it’s hilarious! Can you imagine? Someone reading an obit and seeing that?!! It’s priceless! I think I’m going to dare her to write about her quim next!” Draco’s excitement could rival that of a first year in Honeydukes.

“I was loathe to admit it at the time, but I was really amused by what he’d achieved. Of what he’d convinced her to do. She’d seemed to have lost the founding tenet of Slytherin: self-preservation. Of course, it had been at war with personal gain, so it wasn’t hard to understand,” Harry rambled. Looking up, he smirked at the disgust on Snape’s face. “You know, Snape, if you’re that disturbed, you can visit another portrait.”

“Truthfully though, it was his glee that was the best part of the entire prank. It softened the harshness of his face, though I didn’t recognize it then. And I wouldn’t recognize it for a while yet. I still thought I liked women best, though an interesting wake up call helped clear the air. We’ll get to that in a bit… First, I should talk about the first time I was set up on a date. This was a bit later, but as you’re both miming shriveling up and dying at the length of this, I’ll just jump forward. You’re missing out on some interesting bits though.”

“Ginny says she has someone for you to meet,” Ron stated, stepping over the mess Hermione had made planning for the wedding and doing work. Apparently both required a mess, and she hadn’t finished yet so it was still out. Ron didn’t mind though because then she wouldn’t be able to scold him later if he forgot to throw away his empty beer bottles.

“Really? I don’t know, Ron. I haven’t had good luck lately. Or ever,” Harry sighed.

“Just go meet her? It’s someone Gin met at work. Supposedly really cute and nice.”

“Fine. But don’t yell at me when it goes south.”

“Won’t be me yelling. That’d be Gin.”

“I know. Keep her off my bloody case after this, alright?”

“Needless to say, that date was doomed from the start. And Ron didn’t manage to keep Gin off my case. She kept pestering and pestering, because everyone needed to be as happy as she was. Bullshit. I was too busy learning to be awesome.” Harry grinned, a bit sheepish.

“Besides, Ron was busy with his new job, so I understand when he failed the bro-code mission. And it wasn’t even the strangest thing to happen that month.”

Harry woke up feeling unaccountably warmer than usual; looking around, he spotted the curve of an arse in his bed. An arse that was not his own. An arse connected to hairy legs and a muscular back. What the fuck?

What was stranger still was that he thought the sleeping arse was rather attractive, though he was soon distracted by the presence of a pineapple and picked it up, racing out into the common area to ask frantically, “Why is there an arse in my bed? With a pineapple?”

Hermione chuckled. “Oh, Harry… You don’t remember last night, do you?” It was the same tone she used with her house elf students when they got something right at SPEWA—SPEW Academy. “You better wait until Draco can tell it. He was paying more attention—Ron and I had a lovely session grinding on the dancefloor.”

“Yeah, mate. He seemed kind of ticked though,” Ron warned. Harry knew he was probably right since he’d gotten to know Draco much better than any of them after accepting that job at Draco’s company. Harry, for his part, was still unsure of what Draco did for a job; Ron’s stories always made it seem like the blond was paid to goof off.

“His nostrils were flaring, and his hands were clenched in fists of suppressed violence. I think you were stealing all his arse, but he’ll tell the story later.” Ron continued.

# # #

“I was standing there, talking to a fit bloke, and you were a right arse, Harry,” Draco scowled. “He was interested in me first, and then you smiled his way, and oh the great Harry Potter smiled at him. Of course he had to fawn and melt and dance with you. But then you were done with him. You’d had too much to drink and I believe the Americans call that a cock block.”

Harry frowned. It didn’t sound like him at all. “Are you sure there wasn’t something in my drink?”

“We checked, Harry,” Hermione injected into the conversation. “Completely clean.”

“Bugger. What was I thinking?”

“Will you just stuff it and let me finish telling you the story? Twit,” Draco sniped.

“I thought you’d at least tell me that I was ‘legen’,” Harry paused for effect. “’Wait for it…’” Another pause. “’Dary!’”

“Stop being a twat and listen.” Draco got in Harry’s face and it was like they had never been friends at all. Like they’d never exiled themselves to a muggle university after the war because no one wanted to be an Auror after that much fighting and medicine just sounded like too much work. Like Draco hadn’t been there too and Hermione had never forgiven and befriended him. Like they were right back at Hogwarts and about to come to blows.

“Boys, please…” Hermione sighed. There wasn’t much else she could say, but at least Ron was strangely silent. It was a miracle and she seemed able to breathe some. Harry knew she loved the bloke but that at times, he was hard to manage. It was a good thing she’d had a lifetime of it.

“Fine.” Draco sat back down. “As I was saying. It was not legendary. It was not even legen without the dary.” Draco looked so frustrated and dejected that Harry starting to feel bad.

Draco stretched and Harry stared at the line of his neck. He’d never found an adam’s apple sexy before, but it was. He wanted to nibble it, and he flushed, trying to focus.

“…and then you started grinding on this one guy with blond hair. He was fit, I guess. Not as awesome as me, but it seems that when you’re a slag, you go all out.” Draco continued.

“That’s uncalled for!” Harry growled, his interest in Draco’s neck forgotten.

“It’s completely called for, you berk. If you’re going to turn gay, you should at least have the best! Especially if I’ve been wanting in your pants for years!” Draco paused. “I mean minutes. I only wanted in them for minutes because I’m much better than you.” He sniffed and turned away. “Anyway, I don’t know how you got a pineapple, but it’s not important. Time to check the black book to secure an arse for tonight.” He got up to leave and Harry just stared after him. Draco’s arse was quite fit, Harry realized, and wasn’t that something?

Getting up, Harry stopped him at the door. “This wasn’t my ideal love story, but it’ll have to do. Don’t you dare call an arse for tonight. We need to see where this goes.” He didn’t really know what was to come of it. He was still confused by the sudden shift in what he found desirable, but he was determined to bravely see where it led, and hope for the best.

“You’re too fucking proper.” Draco sighed, but his eyes were smiling.

”You’re still a berk, you know.” Draco murmured. He’d walked in on the last portion.

Severus chuckled from his position in the portrait. Nothing was more humorous than Potter—Potter-Malfoy—being berated.

“I love you too,” Harry smiled, chuckling at the grossed out expressions on their sons’ faces. This part always made it worth it to be sentimental. Well, beyond the pure joy of sentimentality.

Fin.


CLICK HERE -- PLEASE RETURN TO LJ AND LEAVE A COMMENT, THANK YOU