Work Text:
Happy Ever After
Harry’s boots slid down the uneven forest floor as he and Draco Malfoy pelted through the foliage, throwing looks over his shoulder every few seconds to see if they were still being hounded.
“Potter I’m going to kill you!” shouted his fellow auror, and at this juncture, Harry couldn’t even blame him. His heart was trying to claw out of his chest, he was covered in cuts and grazes and he was still trying to comprehend what had happened in the past few hours.
“Just keep moving,” Harry barked back as they descended the hill, not willing to let his old school rival rattle him even further. “I think I see something up ahead, if we can just find shelter-”
“We can – what!” demanded Malfoy. “Sit around and wait for this crazy to catch up with us!”
Harry gritted his teeth as the ground evened out and he grabbed a tree trunk to swing around and sprint towards what looked like an abandoned cottage. He didn’t respond, just forced his feet to keep crashing into the soft dirt, sweating in the warm afternoon sun. They had been running most of the day, and he was definitely over the novelty of it now.
He didn’t even bother knocking, just whipped out his wand and hurtled an Alohomora at the front door of the run down shack. The door sprung open under his touch, and Harry barrelled on through, flinging out several other spells to determine whether or not they were alone, or if any foreign magic was trailing about the place.
It seemed, for now, they were safe, and Harry slammed the door closed as Malfoy darted in behind him. They both stood, trickling blood and smelling less than desirable, panting and eyeing each other with distain that almost justified the snarls they were giving one another.
The cottage they found themselves in was simple, just an open living area with a large stone fireplace dominating the adjacent wall and a door leading off into what looked like a sleeping quarter. Harry and Malfoy stood there, chests heaving, eyes blazing, wands at the ready, before Malfoy finally spoke.
“Care to explain, Potter?” he said, rather calmly, all things considered.
“Um,” he began, rather eloquently. “I’m not really sure.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, loosened his tie, and brushed the graze on his cheek as he stomped further into the cottage to begin opening the cupboards with purpose. “Try,” he said dryly.
“I don’t know!” Harry cried honestly. “One second I was at the Ministry, and the next we were here, and, and…”
“And we were getting shot at with bows and arrows?” Malfoy helpfully supplied, finding a bowl of red, juicy looking apples in one of the cupboards and jerking away in horror. “People yelling ‘Off with their heads!’, rabbits with pocket watches, dancing teacups, wolves in nightgowns and back-stabbing mirrors. Potter, today a pack of playing cards made me fear for my life – I will never look at topiary or mice the same way again!”
Harry rubbed his forehead. “I know, I know!” he pleaded. “I swear, I don’t know what happened!”
Malfoy stopped rummaging through the cottage’s hidey-holes and ran his hand through his blond hair, sweeping it out of his eyes and making Harry’s heart swoop. He swallowed the feeling back down: now was not the time for this inconvenient and totally illogical little crush of his.
“Okay,” Malfoy said calmly, gathering himself together and taking a more professional stance. “How about you talk me through what you do remember. We can build up something from there, try and work out where we are and what’s happening.”
Harry hated to admit it, but that was a good plan. He huffed and stomped over to one of the windows, tweaking at the net curtains to make sure no wayward caterpillars or axe-wielding dwarves were lurking outside.
He sighed. “It was my birthday,” he admitted. It seemed so far away now.
“Huh?” replied Malfoy, a little ineloquently.
“My birthday,” Harry repeated, a little more forcefully. “There was a cake, I blew out the candles, and then…I really don’t know, we were here, and there was all the running and near-death.”
Malfoy sighed and massaged his fingers into his temples. “But where are we?” he asked, throwing his hands out at the world at large. “Our magic works, but it’s not a Muggle place as far as I can tell, and yet there’s still definitely magic, it just doesn’t seem to be obeying any rules I’m aware of?”
Harry swallowed, guiltily, and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Well, I mean, it seems like we’re surrounded fairy tales to me, but that doesn’t exactly help, as they’re not real.”
Malfoy had been inspecting an all-too realistic looking painting of a city made out of emerald, and turned back to Harry. “Sorry, what?” he said.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Well,” he began. “Everything we encountered. It’s like something out of the Brothers Grim, or Hans Christian Anderson.”
Malfoy regarded him impatiently. “I’m sure, in some parallel universe, that made sense to somebody.”
Harry felt his temper flair. “They’re stories Malfoy,” he spat. “Characters from stories. Muggle folk lore, and yet here we are, fending off some of the worst creatures European literature has to offer.”
Malfoy looked outside one of the windows again, brow furrowed in concentration. “You recognise the things that are happening to us, from a fictional book?”
Harry shook his head. “It’s more like a collection of stories, Muggles call them fairy tales. They’re from folk lore, all kids know them – a bit like Beedle the Bard.”
A look of understanding passed over Malfoy’s face and he nodded. “Okay, I’m with you, but how can that be possible?”
“It must be some sort of illusion,” Harry muttered, poking about in the kitchen area again. “It’s like the stories are all blended together, and it’s pretty much all the bad parts. None of the good guys have popped up so far.”
“Who are the good guys?” Malfoy asked, before going “Ooh!” and reaching for the gingerbread men Harry had just found a plate of.
But Harry slapped it from his hand, horrified. “Don’t eat that!” he cried.
Malfoy scowled at the broken biscuit on the floor. “Why not? I’m starving.”
“Just, trust me,” Harry said, shoving the cookies back into a cupboard. “Don’t eat anything whilst you’re here.”
Malfoy brushed the crumbs from his fingers irritably. “Right, fine, anyway – good guys?”
Harry nodded and moved back into the middle of the room. “Yeah, there’s a lot of princesses, and they generally have to be rescued by the handsome prince, and then they get married and live happily ever after…” He trailed off, a cold sense of guilt creeping into his innards. “Uh oh.”
Malfoy arched a blond eyebrow. “Uh oh? Potter, what is uh oh?”
“I, um,” Harry said, hurriedly trying to go over events in his mind before admitting them out loud to Malfoy. “I may have made a wish when I blew out my birthday candles.”
“Which was?” Malfoy growled.
Harry swallowed, prepared to deal with a little humiliation if it meant they were closer to getting out of this mess. “I may have wished…for my own happy ever after,” he admitted, peeking form the corner or his eye at Malfoy to gage his reaction. “If there was something cursed on the candles, maybe it pulled me into some sort of delusion where it sort of came true?”
Malfoy snapped his head back and forth and rose his hands. “I hate to break it to you Potter, but this doesn’t look like a happy ending to me, there are no princesses hanging around waiting for you to propose.”
“Princes,” Harry snapped, feeling flustered and figuring he didn’t have much to lose now.
Malfoy blinked. “What?”
Harry sighed, and began wandering around the cottage again, just for something to do. “If I was going to have a happy ever after, or, whatever, it wouldn’t be with a princess. It would be a prince.”
Malfoy’s face relaxed into a surprised expression. “Ohh,” he said, understanding. “Right, okay.”
That unnerved Harry. He would have expected revulsion, but Malfoy seemed oddly at ease with Harry’s coming out to him. He cleared his throat, deciding to move on. “But, you’re right, I’m not sure if that’s what I wished for why we’ve been surrounded by the Queen’s guard all day, and ogres, and dragons-”
“And don’t even get me started on that donkey,” Malfoy added with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and making Harry’s heart flutter. He always looked so much nicer when he smiled, the trick was getting him to let his walls down for one second to do it. “But,” he added, sobering up. “That doesn’t explain why I’m here? I mean, I was down in archives, not anywhere near you and your cake – I didn’t know it was your birthday,” he added, apologetically, which again Harry found too odd to deal with at that moment so filed away to deal with later.
He shrugged, genuinely not sure. “Who knows – maybe this is someone trying to kill me, or maybe it’s George Weasley’s idea of a hilarious present. It really could be either.”
Malfoy chewed on his lip for a while, lost in thought. “So your wish was just for a happy ending?”
Harry bobbed his head back and forth. “Yeah, a happy ever after, that’s how these stories always end traditionally – ‘And then they all lived happily ever after.’”
“People make a lot of these wishes in these stories?” Malfoy asked.
Harry considered. “Yeah, lots of wishing on stars, generally a fairy does the granting, with her magic wand. Then the evil queens have dark magic, and they try and thwart the heroes with a curse or something.”
Malfoy perked up. “A curse?”
“Yeah,” Harry explained. “The most popular one is a death-like sleep, that the prince has to break with ‘true love’s kiss’ – that undoes the dark magic and then they get their happy ever after.” He shrugged. “It’s stupid, but that’s the way a lot of them go. Big rescue, big wedding,” he laughed, feeling insecure. What an idiotic thing to wish for, next time he was just asking the universe for a new broomstick.
But Malfoy was looking at him funny, tapping a long finger on the wand he held in his hand. “Okay,” he said practically after a moment or two. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We already know apparating doesn’t work, and they don’t have Floo powder here. But I think you’re right, I don’t think we’re really here, I think something is constructing this, like when you fall into a pensive and see memories like they’re real.”
Harry was nodding. “That all sounds like a pretty solid theory,” he said. “But how does that help us?” He wasn’t being hostile, he just wasn’t sure where Malfoy was going with this.
“Maybe,” he ventured, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. “To get out, you need to break the spell like they do in the stories?”
Harry didn’t follow…and then he did. “You mean,” he said, a hot flush creeping up his neck. “With true love’s kiss?”
Malfoy shrugged. “It’s worth a shot isn’t it?”
Harry swallowed and turned away, finding the windowpane suddenly very interesting. “Well, yeah, okay,” he stammered. “That could work, but I don’t have anyone round here to kiss, so unless you want to go traipsing around that forest again in the hopes that one of those medieval knights is actually my true love, we might have to come up with something else.”
Malfoy sighed, and it was so heavy Harry was persuaded to turn around and look at him again. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost…kind about it. He unfolded his arms, and slipped his wand into his back pocket. “Close your eyes Harry,” he said, and something slid down Harry’s spine like electricity.
“Huh?” he said nervously.
Malfoy took a couple of tentative steps closer. “Just, trust me?” he said.
Harry most certainly did not want to close his eyes when Malfoy was standing not five feet away from him, looking at him like that and talking about kissing. His heart was slamming against his ribcage like it was trying to escape, but Malfoy seemed so sure he just swallowed and let his eyes flutter shut, trying not to get too wound up about what Malfoy had in mind.
Maybe he was going to scare him, see if that snapped them out of this fantasy? Or perhaps he was just going to run off and abandon him, or maybe-
All thoughts shut down as a cool pair of lips touched his own, and long, strong fingers brushed over his clavicle and up his neck. Before he could really understand what was happening, his mouth opened, moulding into the embrace, tongue slipping out to meet the opposing lips and tongue, his hands moving up the firm torso pressing against him, sweeping him up as two bodies became one…
There was a popping noise, and suddenly the quietness of the cottage in the woods was replaced by an uproar of people shouting and items being dropped from hands and smashing into wooden floorboards.
Harry and Malfoy sprung apart in horror as he realised that the kiss did indeed seem to have worked, as the two men were back in the middle of Auror HQ, with a lot of people frantically yelling and reaching for Harry, probably because he had vanished several hours ago, but also because they presumed that he was being attacked by Draco Malfoy or something. Why else would they be entwined together like a pair of lovers?
A look of true trauma swept over Malfoy’s face, and he vaulted across the aisle of desks, bashing through the door into the Ministry’s main complex. Harry knew a lot of people were calling his name, asking if he was all right, but he didn’t hear any of them as he remembered how his legs worked and shot out after Malfoy. “Wait!” he cried, spying his blond hair about to dash around the corner, and mercifully he paused so Harry was able to catch up and grab his arm. “Please, don’t go.”
Malfoy couldn’t seem to be able to process any words. He just looked in mortification from Harry, back into the office where several of their colleagues were already starting to step out to find Harry, and then back again. “I-” he croaked, eyes pleading.
“Let’s get out of here,” Harry said, yanking them both into the nearest office. “Sorry Doris,” he said to the middle aged witch behind the desk. “Can we borrow your Floo?”
She waved a hand with chipped nail varnish and several bangles that clinked around her wrist. “Knock yourself out,” she said in amusement with a voice like gravel from too many years smoking.
Harry shot her a grateful smile as he fished a hand into her jar of powder standing on the mantle, throwing it into the fire, hand still wrapped firmly around Malfoy’s bicep. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.”
Just as several people came barrelling into the office, Harry stepped him and Malfoy into the swirling flames, leaving them and their questions behind, at least for now.
Instead, the two of them tumbled out into Harry’s kitchen, once more submerged in the still and quiet they’d left behind in the fantasy cottage. Harry dropped his grip and stepped backwards, taking Malfoy in. “Are you alright?”
Malfoy looked at the fireplace, and then again at Harry. “We just escaped a fictional world by kissing, which our peers all then saw us doing?”
“You’re right,” said Harry decisively. “I’ll make some tea.”
He turned to go to the kettle, but he felt Malfoy’s hand wrap around his wrist and he stopped, green eyes meeting grey. “Harry,” he said softly. “What does that mean? I didn’t really know if that would work – how did it work?”
Harry swallowed, figuring they were beyond surnames now. “It worked, Draco,” he said, feeling like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff. “Because one of us loves the other. Truly loves them.”
“Only one?” Draco replied immediately.
Harry couldn’t seem to breath properly, it was like all the air had been pulled from his lungs. “I don’t know about you,” he managed. It was his fault they’d got stranded in the first place, so he went in for the plunge. “But I think I’ve loved you since Sixth Year.”
Draco’s eyebrows got lost under blond hair. “Are you actually kidding me?” he said, barely above a whisper. Here it was, here was the anger and disgust. Ah well, Harry thought ruefully, at least he’d got it off his chest.
Except, there was no anger or disgust. There was a dazzling smile, and Draco’s other hand was running up the back of Harry’s neck and into his hair, crashing their mouths back together into another kiss. This one however was different. At the cottage, it had been sweet, tentative, slow. This was full of eagerness and excitement as Harry realised what Draco was saying. “You mean-?” he broke off, breathless.
Draco rested their foreheads together, that delightful smile still in place. Maybe Harry had worked out how to unlock it now, and could keep it there forever. “Since Sixth Year,” Draco admitted with a little laugh. “We’re both utter idiots.”
Harry didn’t care though, he was so happy he could cry. He dipped in for another kiss, learning the contours of Draco’s face, the way he tasted like spring but felt hot like summer, their chests pressing together in a promise of more closeness soon to follow.
“Hm,” mumbled Harry into Draco’s mouth, running his hands over his back, not leaving a single inch untouched. “Idiots.”
Eventually they had to surface for air, and Harry panted, enjoying the tingle on his lips and the ache in his jaw. Draco was keenly fumbling with his shirt buttons, slipping little kisses down the side of Harry’s neck. “Bedroom?” he breathed.
Harry didn’t waste any time with the stairs, he just seized Draco’s elbow and twisted them, apparating directly up the three floors so they could spill onto Harry’s bed, which he had thankfully bothered to make this morning. Not that that mattered, as he and Draco were a mess of shoes being kicked off, shirts getting pulled over shoulders and tossed to the floor, sheets ripping back as hands glided hungrily over bare skin, mouths exploring sensitive areas, kissing and licking and grazing teeth.
“Only Harry Potter,” Draco teased. “Would drag his true love off to some imaginary killer forest to get his attention.”
“Please,” gasped Harry as Draco’s hand found its way under his boxers. “You loved it. Getting to be my Prince Charming.” It was getting harder to talk, touch seemed so much more important than anything else. The number of clothing items between them was diminishing, but that was just fine as far as Harry was concerned.
Draco’s body was beautiful, even with the scar running diagonally across his chest Harry knew he must have had from the Sectumsempra curse he’d cast. It was different seeing it in person, but rather than seeing it as in blemish, it just made Draco even more perfect to Harry. It showed their journey together, the obstacles they had already traversed.
In hindsight, that had probably been the instant Harry had realised his feelings for Draco perhaps ran a little deeper than obsession over what he’d been up to with Voldemort. That moment, sprawled in the pool of his blood seeping over the bathroom tiles, Harry had been truly terrified of losing Draco, but spent the next several years too afraid to actually attain him either. They really were both colossal morons.
Harry lovingly kissed his way all along the scar, revelling in the way Draco shivered and moaned as he ran his hands through Harry’s hair. With no more clothes to impede them, Harry carried on lower with his kisses, slipping Draco’s waiting arousal into his mouth and worshiping him with his tongue. One hand gabbed onto his hipbone for purchase, but the other entwined fingers with Draco’s as he brought him to the brink, delighted by the soft nonsense he was whispering as Harry threatened to tip him over.
But he didn’t want that. They’d been chasing each other their whole lives practically, so despite Draco’s protests he slipped quickly back his body, snatching his bedside drawer open and grabbing the lube he knew was there, splashing it over his hand so he could hastily coat where their groins had slid snugly together. That was what he wanted from now on: for them to be in this together.
He ground down on Draco underneath him, propping himself up on his elbows, hands cradling Draco’s head and shoulders. Draco was gripping his back so hard Harry suspected he would have bruises, but that just made Harry even more turned on, thinking he was being marked, finally claimed by his one true love.
His whole body felt electrified, his vision was swimming and he could tell he was close as they picked up the pace. “Harry,” Draco cried, hardly able to keep his eyes from screwing shut in ecstasy. “I think I’m-”
“Me too,” Harry gasped back, catching his lips in an aggressive kiss, moaning into his mouth as he began to climax. Draco gave as good as he got, almost howling as their bodies buckled and suddenly became all the more slippery, dropping into a boneless pile of limbs.
It took Harry a good thirty seconds at least before he was able to see again, realising in amazement his glasses had managed to stay on his face, and he Acciod his wand from where he’d discarded it in his haste to get very, very naked. “Tergeo,” he whispered, cleaning them off and dropping the wand again to cuddle Draco closer to him. The other man groped around and hauled the sheet over, wrapping them up as they came back to reality.
“Was that worth waiting half a decade for?” he asked, biting his lip and brushing a wayward curl of Harry’s hair away from his face.
“Yes,” Harry replied, knowing the grin that was spreading over his face probably made him look pretty goofy, and not really caring in the slightest. “But we might have to have another few goes to make up for lost time,” he suggested cheekily.
Draco leaned over for another long kiss, trailing his fingertips up and down Harry’s skin, brushing his ribs and his spine under muscles still tingling from exertion. “Is this what it feels like?” he asked Harry sleepily, their foreheads resting together, bodies entwined so perfectly it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other began.
“What?” Harry asked back nuzzling impossibly closer.
“Happy ever after. Is this what it feels like?”
Harry smiled into Draco’s neck, sighing in content. “Yes,” he whispered, manoeuvring around for a slow, happy kiss. “I think this definitely counts as happily ever after.”
The End