Chapter Text
Draco had been prepared and wasn’t disappointed.
As anticipated, the very second they entered the room, everyone stopped what they were doing and erupted into cheers. Draco suffered more embraces and congratulatory pats on the back than he could possibly have imagined, but managed to keep a straight face after a fashion.
Potter’s hand in his definitely helped.
What Draco had not expected, though, were the bets.
Apparently, all their cohorts had thought it wise to wager on his fucking love life and had taken sides during the last few days. Millicent, Theo, Patil Two, Goldstein, Macmillan and Thomas were the sceptical ones whereas Daphne, Blaise, Hermione, Boot, Patil One, Finnigan and Weasley were the shippers – or at least, that’s what Draco thought he’d heard.
He watched with a certain annoyance as a cashmere scarf’s worth of sickles was gathered at the centre of the table.
At first, Potter’s grip was tense in his hand, but the more money changed hands, the more he seemed to relax.
“Why, Dean, you could have shown a little faith!” He exclaimed after Thomas solemnly swore he would give his due to Finnigan at a more appropriate moment.
Draco gritted his teeth during the division of the winnings. But if he had assumed they would resume their activities and leave him alone after that, he was wrong.
Because naturally, placing actual wagers on the issue of their private relationship-thing wasn’t enough. No, they had to know every fucking detail now, didn’t they? After that, Draco and Potter were asked a bunch of embarrassing questions – from who had kissed who first to, to Draco’s utter mortification, did Potter join Draco before or after midnight – because of course, they had been bored shitless without them this morning and had bet on everything possible.
Draco just couldn’t believe his ears.
The more questions Potter answered, the more Draco wanted to cast Unforgivables on the lot of them.
“They’re not even trying to be discreet about it,” he grumbled.
Potter laughed heartily. “I guess we haven’t been either.”
“I still can’t believe they all bet on us.” Draco said icily.
“You’re one to talk!” Potter elbowed Draco.
“Ouch.” Draco scowled at Potter who was grinning like a fool. “And anyway. I wager on little things, not on people’s private life. I feel violated.”
Potter shrugged, clearly shooting for casual, and missing the mark somewhat spectacularly. “But it’s a good thing, right? It means they’re accepting it.”
Draco didn’t reply. He was having trouble imagining any good in it, but he wisely refrained from saying as much.
Draco studied Potter’s features while the man laughed at something he hadn’t caught. His body language was revelatory, and Draco took the measure of how much Potter had been worried, despite what he had said before. One would have thought living for your friends’ approval was Hufflepuff trademarked, but clearly some Gryffindors were sappy prats as well.
Anyhow, the huge grin on Potter’s face was sort of contagious and Draco had to leave the group to hide his rising smile.
He wandered about the house for a few minutes and when he spotted a basket of fruits on the kitchen counter, he suddenly realised how hungry he was. He took an apple for himself and another for Potter because he was feeling generous.
When he came back to the living room, wagers were still being resolved. He rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe. As Potter finally looked up from his conversation with Daphne on the other side of the room, Draco offered the apple, raising a silent eyebrow. Potter’s face broke into a stunning grin and he nodded enthusiastically.
Slightly overwhelmed by the warm sensation that spread through his belly at the sight, Draco threw the apple to Potter across the room. Despite the-admittedly rubbish-launch, Potter managed to beautifully catch the apple, without even interrupting his conversation with Daphne.
Show off, thought Draco, drinking the sight of Potter nevertheless.
“You should stop that, you’re gonna hurt your teeth,” Hermione slipped in a few moments later, pulling Draco out of his daydream.
Startled, Draco jerked, almost knocking himself out on the doorframe in the process. He hadn’t realised he was gritting his front teeth, something he tended to do when concentrating. He unclenched his jaw and smiled crookedly to acknowledge Hermione’s presence.
Hermione gave him a dazzling grin in return. “I’m happy for you, by the way,” she said, gently elbowing him.
Draco felt a rush of affection for her and pushed down the urge to hug. “So am I,” he replied lightly.
So was he, indeed.
His cheeks started to heat under Hermione’s curious gaze, and he tried hard not to picture Potter naked. Just in case.
“Alright pals, it’s time for the last bet,” shouted Weasley, standing for some reason on the dining table. “I think we can all agree I’ve wrecked that one.”
“What did he wager?” Draco asked.
Hermione grinned. “He reckoned that, when you finally joined us, you’d claim Harry either with a piece of clothing, a love bite of some sort, or by holding hands.”
Draco felt himself going pale.
It wasn’t a good look on him. Malfoys were fair, not pale.
Embarrassed, he looked away from Hermione’s wry smile and took his time – because why not? – checking Potter out. As Draco had anticipated, he looked stunning in Slytherin green. His eyes were sparkling, the colour made brighter by the shade of the jumper. Maybe it was Draco’s imagination, but his hair seemed even messier than usual. And there it was. A hickey, right in the soft spot of Harry’s neck. Draco wondered when he had done that. He certainly hadn’t intended to mark Potter.
Or had he? He couldn’t tell.
“Looks like I’ve won him a bit of money,” he stated as he watched handfuls of Galleons converge towards Weasley.
Draco had never thought he’d see the day he would make Weasley rich, much less be happy about it.
❅
“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…”
Why they had chosen to set off fireworks to celebrate the New Year was beyond Draco. For some unfathomable reason, they had bothered with Muggle fireworks when magical ones would have been easier to launch, nicer and just as unremarkable to passing Muggles. That made absolutely no sense. But there they were anyway, gathered in the tiny snow-covered garden.
Draco was cold. His feet were wet. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. They were standing at the exact same spot where Potter and he had shared their first kiss a few days ago and Potter had let him put his arm around his waist. There were surrounded by their friends and schoolmates but Draco only had eyes for Potter. Overwhelmed by Potter’s scent and heat, he could see images from earlier in the day every time he closed his eyes. Harry naked. Harry groaning his name while Draco had his mouth around his prick. Harry laughing in his arms, under the covers.
“THREE, TWO, ONE…”
There was an awkward moment during which nothing happened. Then, several fireworks flew at the same time, almost deafening Draco in the process. The sky lit up with what seemed like every color in the world, from the green, red, yellow, and blue of Hogwarts to violet and orange, indigo, and scattered pale whites and golds. Draco blinked, dazzled.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone shouted, hugging and kissing.
“Happy new year, Draco,” Potter whispered in his ear, making him shiver.
Potter looked at him, his big green eyes smouldering with affection, and kissed him eagerly. In front of everyone.
Come to think of it, the kiss lasted probably longer than reasonable in front of an audience. But, honestly, who cared?
They were together. Draco and Harry. It didn’t sound less weird than the thousand times before, but it seemed more and more tangible.
Once the hustle and bustle from the bets had died, everyone had started to act normally, as if nothing had changed, and all in all, the afternoon had passed in almost heavenly amiability and comradeship. Draco had even been able to steal a few kisses now and then. He was positive he had never seen the Golden Boy smile this broad and this long before. Potter still hadn’t pronounced the b-word, but to be honest, Draco wasn’t sure it mattered.
Draco and Harry stood there, in each other’s arms, for a few moments. Their foreheads were touching. Neither of them was talking; they contented themselves with breathing the same air and looking through each other’s eyes.
Harry’s eyes had never been this green and this huge.
And of course – because he was an utter twat like that – Draco broke the mood by saying something really, really, really, stupid.
“God, I love-”
Harry’s eyes widened, mirroring Draco’s stunned expression. Mortified, Draco swallowed painfully.
“-fireworks,” he completed after what couldn’t have possibly been mistaken for a dramatic break.
“I love fireworks,” he repeated while feeling very sorry for himself.
❅
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Did you like it?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t bad.”
“Better than yesterday?”
“Why, Potter, do you want me to rate you on a scale from one to ten?”
Potter blushed and grumbled something that sounded like “MerlinyourinfuriatingIfuckinghateyou”, but Draco couldn’t be sure because he had said that with his face shoved in the pillow.
“Why do you care?” asked Draco, trying to make it sound casual.
Potter raised his head. “Because I liked it.” He frowned. “And I would very much like to do it again soon.”
Draco bit his lip to stifle a smile. “Well,” he said after a while, “It was indeed better than yesterday. And it lasted longer, which is a good thing. I think we’re getting to it.”
Relief was visible on Potter’s face. “Even if you haven’t… y’know… during… I mean while I was… y’know... again?”
Draco laughed and kissed Harry’s forehead. “You’re adorable.”
Potter blushed gorgeously and hid his face on Draco’s shoulder.
Draco had said it without even realising it, but it was no less true. And if anyone had something against it, they’d better hold their peace. Considering that he had had Potter’s cock up his arse moments before, he had every right to say whatever he pleased, thank you very much.
Draco took Harry’s chin between two fingers and raised his head, making the shorter man look him in the eye.
“I liked it,” he said softly.
Harry beamed and Draco’s insides made a funny loop.
“It’s sweet for you to worry about me, but I think all we need is practice.”
Potter’s eyes widened a bit at the suggestion, and he blushed brightly. Draco couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. “After all, practice is supposed to culminate in perfection, right?” Potter winced at the cheesy pun and turned a little redder.
“Maybe we should try a different position,” Draco continued when Potter didn’t seem reassured. “It might just be better some other way.” Potter nodded, his flush spreading to his chest. He buried his face in Draco’s neck. Merlin, how can someone slay a fucking Dark Lord and be embarrassed at a little sex talk? “We could also try getting prepared the Muggle way. Taking our time with it might help. We haven’t got to use magic for everythings. I could show you how to do it,” Draco offered.
Harry nodded again, and then spoke huskily into Draco’s neck. “I’d like that.”
“Next time,” said Draco. Sweet, sweet promise.
Harry tightened his grip and just stayed there, half on top of Draco, half hanging out of the bed.
After a while, Harry broke away. “We should pack now; the others will be waiting for us.”
Draco didn’t answer and nervously began to play with a stray lock of hair on his neck. Funny how quick he had caught the habit.
“Actually,” he said, avoiding eye contact, “I have something for you, before we leave.”
“A present? For me?” Potter asked, visibly surprised.
“That’s what I said,” Draco drawled.
Potter was looking at him with big worried eyes. “But it’s not Christmas! And I have nothing for you! I didn’t know it was a thing, I-”
“Shut up,” Draco said more sharply than intended. “There’s no such thing as New Year’s present exchange tradition. Although mind you, being a Malfoy, I can very well invent my own traditions if I please.”
Potter didn’t answer, so Draco kept on softer, “Besides, if we are going to,” date, was the natural ending of the phrase, of course, but he had promised himself he wouldn’t say it before Harry did. So instead he waved and said, “keep on, you’re gonna have to get used to the presents.”
Potter’s eyes widened and suddenly, Draco began to feel anxious. He wiped his sweaty hands on the sheets before reaching for the tiny package in the bedside table. He had bought it on a whim, and hadn’t thought of the implications, but now that he thought of it, he could see how wrong he might have been. He hadn’t considered that maybe, Harry would see it as the expectations he very much wanted to avoid for now. The same ones that Draco was guilty of having, of course.
“S’nothing, really. I saw it in the souvenir shop when we were shopping yesterday with Hermione, and I thought about you.”
The package looked tiny in Harry’s hands.
What if he didn’t like it? What if he hated it? What if he thought Draco was ridiculous and mushy and left him? God, Draco was about to faint.
Oblivious to Draco’s internal meltdown, Potter opened the package.
“You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t like it!” Draco hurried to say, in a high-pitched voice.
Potter, busy reading the companion text at the back of the jewel, didn’t reply. He frowned a little and Draco was sure he hated it.
“I don’t understand what’s written,” explained Potter after some painfully long moments.
Draco let go of his swollen lip and stammered, “Remember Étoile des Neiges? The song. This,” he pointed to the piece of cardboard, “is the chorus. And the snowflake, it’s the Étoile des Neiges. Remember the lyrics? ’My loving heart’, well that’s me. And you’re Beautiful Eyes, obviously. You’re the Snow Star. I’m sorry, it’s sappy. Really, you don’t have to wear it, it’s just-”
Potter cut him off with a kiss.
“It’s beautiful, Draco,” he said, freeing the thin chain from the piece of cardboard.
“You like it?” Draco squeaked.
“I love it, you idiot. Why wouldn’t I?” Potter said slowly as if talking to an ignorant first year.
Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Because it’s sappy and sentimental.”
“It’s romantic,” Harry said before kissing his nose. “Now help me attach it.”
❅❅ EPILOGUE ❅❅
“I’ve told you we should have gone to Switzerland,” Draco drawled. “Gimme the sunscreen.”
Harry sighed. “You’re never satisfied,” he grumbled. He started rummaging about in the rucksack on his lap and kept on mumbling with increasing volume, “Last year it was too snowy, the year before that it was too foggy, it’s just sun for Godric’s sake!”
Harry found what he was looking for and handed it to Draco.
“I’ll have you know that I have very delicate skin,” Draco snorted, took the tube from Harry’s hand and shoved his sticks in Harry’s waiting hand. He removed his gloves and stuck them between the seat of the chairlift and his thigh. “And,” he said, smearing the suntan lotion on his cheeks, “I still don’t understand why we had to come back here of all places. We know the slopes are rubbish here, and the room doesn’t even have a Jacuzzi.”
Harry shrugged. Draco watched, intrigued, as he began to chew his bottom lip, a bad habit when he was nervous.
“I wanted to do something special for our fifth year anniversary,” Harry said without making eye contact with Draco. “And I thought coming back here would be romantic. But I guess I forgot to consider what an insensitive git you are.”
“I am being the unromantic one? Do we need to discuss the time in the Italian restaurant?” Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Fair point,” Harry admitted, chuckling.
Draco closed the sunscreen and handed the tube to Harry, who put it back in the bag. Harry offered the bottle of water to Draco in a silent question, and Draco shook his head before putting his gloves back on. Harry handed the sticks to Draco whilst drinking from the bottle. Draco settled his sunglasses back on his nose.
Once Harry had shoved the bottle in the bag, he leaned against the backrest of the lift and tilted his head back, eyes closed.
The years had been kind to the features of the man Draco loved. If he had been handsome when they had started to date, the last few years had seen him grow into this beautiful and sexy man. Auror training had done some wonderful things to his body, and his face had lost the roundness of his younger years. His teenage facial hair had become plain and sexy stubble against which Draco always enjoyed rubbing. Nowadays, he wore his hair short and slicked back in a stylish way Draco had spent several hours teaching him. He was simply gorgeous and Draco would be a fool not to take the time to appreciate it.
Draco leaned and softly kissed Harry’s cheek. “I’m glad we’re here, love.”
Harry opened his eyes, beaming. His eyes wandered on Draco’s face a few seconds before starting to glint mischievously. “You’ve got some cream on your nose.”
Draco frowned and began to remove his glove, but Harry put his hand on his.
“Lemme,” he said.
He leaned and gently wiped Draco’s nose. His eyes were sparkling and his mouth broke into the lopsided smile he usually kept in reserve for when he had something in mind and wanted to be sexy. Not that he needed hard work to have Draco the way he wanted, really.
Harry’s finger lingered for a moment on Draco’s cheek and he eased into a kiss. Draco gladly complied. Snogging on the chairlift truly was his favourite winter sport.
And this chair lift was definitely a really long one, so there was no rush at all. They spend a few minutes kissing like horny teenagers and Draco had almost forgotten where he was altogether when the chairlift stopped abruptly.
“Oh, bugger, not again,” he grumbled, breaking apart.
Harry chuckled, his cheeks slightly pinker than before.
“I reckon chairlifts don’t stop this often in Switzerland,” Draco mumbled.
“You’ve won the right to snog me longer, why are you complaining?” Harry said cheekily.
But before Draco had the time to lean again to resume the kiss, they heard a distant sound behind them. Quickly, the sound became more audible, and Draco recognised the song.
“Etoile des Neiges,
Mon cœur amoureux,
S’est pris au piège,
De tes grands yeux.”
Harry and Draco looked at each other before bursting out laughing at the same time.
After a few moments, Harry’s face grew serious again. He rubbed the back of his neck and, to Draco’s surprise, said, “I guess that’s my cue.”
Harry searched through his bag a few moments before finally taking a little box out of it.
A little, square, black box.
Merlin’s. Fucking. Bullocks.
Harry cleared his throat and Draco felt as if all his blood was leaving his face.
“Draco Malfoy,” Harry began, an endearing shade of pink spreading on his cheeks. “You do know by now that I love you very much.”
Salazar help Draco. This was happening.
“And I intend to do so for the rest of my life.”
Draco had forgotten how to breathe. Was it in and out or out and in, already?
“So I was wondering,” Harry’s voice had begun to shake, “If you’re willing, maybe you could do me the honour of-” Harry swallowed and managed, in a hoarse voice, “of being my husband.”
Draco felt a strange wetness on his cheeks as Harry opened the box, revealing a ring.
Harry was watching him hopefully and Draco just couldn’t stand it.
He did what he knew how to do best. He tangled a fist in Harry’s hair and kissed him with his soul. He started with a soft pressure, and then began to nip lightly at Harry’s bottom lip. The moment Draco’s tongue touched Harry’s lip, Harry moaned and Draco knew.
He knew he wanted to hear this sound every day of his life. He wanted to feel these lips against his every day of his life.
“Je te donne en gage cette croix d’argent,
Et de t’aimer toute la vie j’en fais serment.”
Draco pressed his body against Harry’s, forgetting he was holding ski poles.
“Watch out!” Harry exclaimed, breaking the kiss. “You’re gonna make the ring fall.”
Draco jerked back and giggled. He raised a teasing eyebrow. “That’ll teach you to propose on a chairlift.” His voice was a little high from the emotion, but he didn’t care.
Harry elbowed him gently, laughing.
For a moment, they just stood there, the box still open in Harry’s hand, slowly rocking in the stationary chairlift, smiling like utter idiots.
“How long have you been wandering ‘round with the ring in your backpack?” asked Draco, conversationally, trying to hide his genuine curiosity.
Harry shrugged. “Since the beginning of the hols. I was waiting for the right moment.”
“You sappy Gryffindor,” said Draco softly, before leaning in for a soft kiss. “I guess you haven’t asked Mother for my hand?”
“Nope,” Harry said, cheekily.
Draco rolled his eyes and leaned in another kiss. He stood there for a moment, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder, looking at the ring. It was a simple platinum band encrusted with a table cut diamond. Beautiful, elegant, perfect.
“So?” asked Harry after a while.
“So what?”
“Do you accept?”
“You made me wait for two bloody months before agreeing to go on a proper date with me, and you honestly hope I’m giving you an answer straight away?”