Meddlesome Friends

Hermione was on her hands and knees, carefully picking up the broken pieces of glass from the floor, mulling over everything that had happened with Harry.

She knew both herself and Ron had been out of line. But she didn't know that Harry had broken up with Draco because of them.

They were, are, horrible friends.

Harry didn't deserve it. Malfoy definitely hadn't deserved it.

Why had they done those things? They didn't have the right to.

She was so ashamed of herself for doing every single thing Harry had called them out for. Yes, she had looked at Draco with judgement. Yes, she had been waiting for him to mess up. Yes, she did make small subtle remarks about him. She couldn't believe she'd been so horrible. What had she been thinking?

She'd done it because she didn't trust Malfoy with her best friend. Malfoy had always done something to hurt Harry every single year they had been in Hogwarts. He had hated them as much as they had hated him. He had done bad things during the war, they all had. But she guessed that it mattered so much to her because Malfoy had followed Voldemort. A small part of her hadn't thought he could ever change.

She realises now, that she shouldn't have continued doing what she had, after Malfoy had apologised to them. It was one thing to dislike someone that continued doing the bad things they'd always done. It was another to not give them a chance after they held themselves accountable for it.

She had never seen Harry that angry before. Not during the war. Not even in school when he was being ostracised at every turn. That was a new level of anger she had felt from Harry.

It was as if the rage he had been trying to suppress was trying to burst out through his magic. Harry had looked terrifying then. His magic ha been shaking the house, making the lights flicker, breaking everything in sight, and floating pillows and paper around him. His hair had been floating in the air as if it had been electrified. His eyes were the same usual emerald green but there had been a forest fire shining in them.

She shivered.

Harry had looked terrifying but it didn't make him any less of a human being. She knew Ron thought so too.

“You should have never said that,” she whispered to Ron as she cleared and fixed everything with a flick of her wand.

“I know,” he muttered, voice filled with despair and regret. “I don't know why I did it. I knew that Malfoy isn't one anymore, but it just slipped,” he said, head in his hands as he sat on the couch. Hermione joined him, pressing a soothing hand to his shoulder. Ron sighed. “Why did I say that? Why do I always do thing without thinking? He probably hates me right now,” he moaned.

“He doesn't hate you,” Hermione says comfortingly.

“You don't know that,” he muttered.

“Yes, I do. He's probably beating himself over for it.”

“That doesn't mean he doesn't hate me,” he groaned. “I want to fix this. How can I fix this?” he turned to Hermione with a determined gaze.

She knew one way to fix this but she didn't think Ron would want to go through with it.

She sighed, “You won't like it,” she warned.

“Will it make Harry happy?”

“Most definitely.”

“Then we are doing it.”

“We should go and talk to Malfoy if we want it to work.”

There was a pause.

“Ok,” Ron said with finality, determined to make his best friend – if  he could still call him that – happy.

•●•●•●•

The next day, a fine, windy afternoon, Ron and Hermione set off, hand in hand, to go to Malfoy's apartment. They couldn't floo there – they didn't know the floo address – and they couldn't apparate there either – they needed to know how the place looked before they did that, otherwise they could risk being seen by muggles.

In all honesty, they had wanted to walk to the apartment that they were sure Malfoy was living in because they wanted to think over what they were going to say.

It was nerve-racking; going to Malfoy's house. They had never been there before, they didn't know what to expect. They have never even had a civilised conversation with him, but now they were going to, just to make Harry happy. They couldn't care less about what they thought about Malfoy right now. They had to fix what they had done wrong.

Before they knew it, they were standing in front of the building Malfoy lived in.

They looked at each other, unsure and nervous.

Were they really going to do this?

Yes, they were. For Harry.

“Are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late to turn back,” Ron asked quietly, turning towards his wife, unease flowing through him.

Hermione knew how important this conversation was going to be to not only the both of them but possibly Harry and Malfoy, too. She knew they couldn't turn back now. Ron knew this, too. He wanted to know if she was still okay with going further. It made her heart flutter a bit.

“We have to do this. I need to do this. For Harry,” she answered with determination. She would not give up now.

“For Harry,” he repeated, giving her hand a firm squeeze.

They both made their way into the building, taking the stairs to the second floor before hesitating in front of the door they were sure was Malfoy's. They had asked Luna for his address. She had only given it to them after they had promised to give him a chance for once.

They gripped each other's hands tightly to comfort the nerves that were buzzing through them. Hermione looked over to her husband for confirmation that they were still going forward with this. They both knew this conversation with Malfoy was going to change everything. Ron nodded, semi-confidently.

She knocked on the door twice and they both waited, fidgeting anxiously.

They heard noises from the other side. It sounded like someone had fallen of the couch and then tripped over something.

The door opened suddenly, revealing a very dishevelled looking Malfoy. His hair was scruffy and tangled as if it hasn't had a comb run through it in weeks. He was wearing a green shirt with questionable stains on them and dirty looking black sweatpants. He had dark bags under his eyes, too. He was the most un-Malfoy like the duo had ever seen him

Malfoy looked even worse than Harry had been. And that was saying a lot.

Noticing that it was them, Malfoy straightened up, brushed down his clothes and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He cleared his throat, “Granger, Weasel, what are you doing here?” he asked, cautiously looking down the hallway to check if his neighbours were eavesdropping.

Hermione gave him a calculating stare. “We want to talk to you,” she said.

He scoffed, “and why would you want to talk to me? Last I heard, you thought I was the worst person to ever live.” He was leaning against the doorframe, giving them a scrutinizing gaze.

She felt Ron's hand clench a little in hers, and gave a gentle squeeze back.

“Listen here Malfoy, we want to talk to you about Harry-” Malfoy perked up a little in interest, “- so let us in. I doubt you want your nosy neighbours listening into our conversation,” Ron nodded his head at the door across from his that was slightly ajar.

Malfoy looked over at the door, then at them, and then back into his house. He sighed, “fine. But say something out of line and I won't hesitate to kick you out.”

He opened the door wide enough to let them in. He quickly closed and locked the door before leading them through the kitchen to get to the dining room. “Don't mind the mess, I didn't bother cleaning up,” he mumbled.

Malfoy's living room was a mess. Books, pillows, papers and quills littered the floor, his couch had clothes and blankets on it, and there were several empty coffee cups on the table. Hermione and Ron didn't know what they had expected Malfoy's house to look like, but it definitely wasn't this.

Surprisingly, the kitchen was spotless compared to the rest of the house. Not a dirty plate or leftover food scrapes to be found.

Malfoy gestured for them to take a seat at the small dining table with four chairs. He took a seat across them, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms and fixing him with a tense gaze.

“What are you doing here?” he asked again.

They sighed, “We told you already, we want to talk,” Hermione spoke for them.

“What about?”

“About Harry,” Ron said this time.

Malfoy let out a pained groan. “What about him?”

“I think you already know what we want to know,” Hermione fixed him with knowing eyes. It made him a little uncomfortable.

“We broke up, Granger, what more do you want?” Draco was already tired of the conversation. He knew it would come up eventually, he just hadn't thought it would be now. And he really wanted to sleep right now. He would also like to have Harry in his arms, but that couldn't be helped.

“We want to know why you broke up,” Ron said with an infuriated sigh.

“You don't already know that? I was sure Harry would have told you sooner or later,” he mumbled. When he looked at them, they looked away, uncomfortable, “So he has told you then? Well, if this isn't interesting,” he gave them a devilish smile. “So you must now know that we broke up because of things you did. Not that I really had a problem with them, it was Harry who did. He hated the fact that his friends were the ones doing it. He knew that I hated it too, though,” he smirked when they flinched.

“We wanted to apologise for that. We know that we were in the wrong,” Hermione muttered. “We should not have done or said anything about you,” she looked up at him, shame in her eyes.

He sighed. “I've already said that I didn't, don't, care about what you said. I've been called worse...” he mumbled out the last part.

“That isn't right,” Hermione said.

“You can't say anything about it, now can you, Granger,” he muttered, silencing her instantly.

“You can't really blame us for not trusting you! You've hurt him more than once in the past. How would we know you wouldn't hurt him again,” Ron argued.

The room grew tense as Draco frowned his brows and frowned at them. They flinched. “You see, Weasley, that's where you were in the wrong. You bring up things from the past. It's been a long time since then. We were children. And if you had looked properly, you would have seen that I would never have hurt him now. Not even on accident.” He had said that with so much confidence even Hermione was surprised.

It was filled with tense quiet, everyone mulling over what was said.

“Is that why you didn't bring up a fight when Harry broke up with you,” she said gently, carefully watching as Malfoy slouched in his chair as if he were giving up. “Why did you give up your own happiness for Harry's?”

Malfoy chuckled tiredly, rubbing his face. “You've never failed to amaze me, Granger,” Hermione flushed a little at the praise. Ron glared at Malfoy, jealous. “Don't get your knickers in a twist Weasel, I’m attracted to men and only men, I'd much sooner flirt with you than I would Granger,” he laughed when Ron turned a slight pink and started sputtering. “Besides,” he whispered, “my heart is still in your best friend’s hands.”

“You really still like him?” Ron asked sceptically, still not quite trusting him.

“No, I don't like him,” he said, “I love him, and I always will. I would have hurt the person that hurt him, would have stayed with him if anything bad happens, would have done every single thing in my power, and a bit more, just to make him smile and feel safe where he is,” he declared, determination gleaming in his eyes.

“You really love him that much that you would do all that, just to make him happy?” Hermione asked. She knew the answer, of course, but she wanted the confirmation that, if Harry and Malfoy were to start dating again, he would never, in his right mind, hurt Harry at all. She wanted to know he could be trusted to take care of Harry if, for some reason, they weren't there to keep him safe.

Malfoy looked at them with something similar to confidence. He fished something out of the pockets of his sweatpants and covered it with his hands, smiling at it in a bittersweet manner. He gave them a glance and hesitantly placed the small, black, velvet box on the table between them and pushed it toward them slowly before standing.

“I would do anything and everything for him,” he whispered, smiling, before going out of the room.

Hermione gasped when she realised what it was, Ron soon followed her.

Her hands shook as she took the small box in her hands. She carefully opened it and, resting in the small cushions, were a pair of silver rings. One with a white gold band with an emerald embedded between two diamonds. The other is with an identical band with a diamond in the middle with two emeralds embedded by its sides. When she examined it more closely, she noticed the inscription on the inside of the rings. One said, ‘I love you, Draco’ and the other said, ‘I love you forevermore, my love’. It was perfect.

“Engagement rings...” Ron whispered next to her in disbelief.

Had Draco been planning to propose to Harry? Why did he still have the rings?

She closed the box, stood and dragged Ron to the sitting room, where Draco was sitting couch, reading a book, in the now clean sitting room.

“How long?” she asked curiously.

“Pardon?” he looked at them, quirking an eyebrow.

“How long have you wanted to ask him to marry you?”

“Four months into our relationship,” he replied, going back to his book, trying to ignore them. “I knew I wanted him to be mine and I to be his, early on. We had both talked about it a few times.”

“If you wanted to marry him, then why didn't you give a fight when he broke up with you? Did you not want to date him anymore?” she asked.

Draco sighed and put the book down on the table, turning his attention to the couple. “As it is, Granger, I want to marry him. I never not wanted to be with him. I didn't give up a fight because it was what he wanted. It was to make him happy. And if breaking up with me would make him happy, then fuck my feelings,” he said.

“Harry isn't happy,” Ron murmured from behind his wife. “He misses you.”

Draco ignored him.

“Why did you two really come here? I know it's not just because you wanted to.”

They were both quiet, mulling over what to say and what to not. It was Ron who spoke first.

“Harry accidentally trashed the house yesterday,” he muttered dejectedly, staring at the floor.

“How does someone do that accidentally?” Draco asked, staring at the pair with an eyebrow raised. He just knew they had said something wrong. It was a sixth sense for him to know whenever someone hurt Harry.

“It wasn't his fault,” Hermione started.

“We, I, might have insulted you a few times,” the redhead mumbled.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, “you questioned my feelings for him, suggested he find someone else and called me a death eater.” Ron winced. “I'm right then,” he muttered.

“I didn't mean it! I don't even know why I said it!” the weasel defended himself.

“Wait. Back up a bit. What do you mean by ‘Harry accidentally trashed the house’? Harry would never do that, it isn't like him. He'd feel guilty and isolate himself for a few weeks, maybe even start hating himself again. That's never a good thing,” he mumbled. He didn't know when but he had started pacing back and forth during the conversation, worried about Harry.

“Well... I was insulting you a bit and then he got angry, his magic started crackling around the room, I called you a death eater, the cups shattered, the lights flickered and blew up, the photographs on the wall fell, the pillows started floating, the wind picked up a bit and papers were flying around the room. Harry's hair was floating wildly on his head and his green eyes had a fire burning in them. It was the first time we'd seen him that angry.” Ron recounted, bending down a finger for everything that had happened.

Draco snorted, a little less worried. “All that?”

“Every single thing,” Hermione confirmed.

“Bet he looked hot,” he muttered, falling back into the couch.

“What?” they both spoke simultaneously, confused.

“I don't know about you, but every time he gets mad, I compliment him. Or, you know, kiss him to make him shut up,” he chuckled, eyes closed as he reminisced. “Complimenting him works best, he would always blush and walk away quickly. He would still try to act mad at me. Kissing him on the other hand, would make him pout, curse at me and ignore me for an hour. He wouldn't even let me touch him.”

“What?” they both said again.

“Tell me Weasel, Granger, what do you do when you get into a fight with Harry and get mad at each other,” he asked them.

“Ignore each other, I suppose. Maybe even throw insults at the other,” Hermione mumbled.

“That's why Harry always thinks you're going to abandon him whenever you guys fight. He hates getting into fights with people he's close with because he's afraid he's gonna loose them.” Draco told them. Harry never told him that, but he knew. He had watched Harry for far too long to not have noticed. It was surprising that they hadn't noticed yet; they spent more time with Harry than he did.

“But... isn't that what you did?” Ron pointed out. “You left him. You didn't even bring up a fight. You just left after a few words with each other. Isn't that going a bit backwards of what you wanted to do?”

Draco sighed, slouching on the couch in a very un-Malfoy like fashion. Then again, this whole conversation had been un-Malfoy like from the beginning.

“I left because I had no idea how to convince him to let me be with him. I had no way of even trying to. You should've seen him that day. He was distraught, but his mind was set and he wouldn't have wanted an argument. It was hard for both of us. I never wanted to leave him, I just had no idea what to say to let me be with him. I knew if I had proposed, he would have felt guilty. I knew that if I had begged he would have let me stay because he was pushed to. I didn't want that. I never wanted to push him into something he didn't want. I know I should have fought with him for it, but it'd just be harder for the both of us. I left but I never wanted to. Maybe, if I had fought for him, I would be married to him. Happily living together,” by now Draco was near sobbing. He wished Harry was here. He wants to be with Harry. But he didn't dare hope that Harry would take him back again. He wanted to hope that he and Harry could live together happily again, but he didn't have hope of that happening any time soon.

Hearing Draco Malfoy say he would have dropped to his knees and clung to Harry and beg for him to take him back made Hermione feel... well, she didn't quite know. She felt guilty that because of them, both Harry and Malfoy were suffering. She and Ron had come here to fix everything they had done, to apologise to Draco and to, possibly, get he and Harry back together again.

Something snapped in her. She was going to do something reckless. It might possibly bring the two lovers back together and get Harry to forgive them, or close to it, but she was about 90 percent sure it might work. And maybe she could even convince Draco to propose to Harry. She knew it was going to be a bit rushed, with them having had just possibly gotten back together but she had a feeling that if she could get Draco to propose to him now it would make it a lot better.

She stalked up to Draco, who was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, ignoring Ron's questioning gaze. She stopped in front of him and when he looked up, she grabbed his shirt and hauled him up. She gave him a sharp slap to the face as an added bonus and ignored Ron's gasp.

“What was that for!? I mean I know I deserve it but you didn't have to slap me,” Draco mumbled, rubbing his hurt cheek.

“To get you to snap out of it!” she snapped.

She grabbed Draco's shirt again, tugging at it until he was staring directly into her eyes. “Draco Malfoy, you listen to me and you listen to me good! Harry fucking misses you and is an absolute mess without you. You are going to go change your clothes, brush your hair and meet us back in here in 30 minutes and we are going to get your miserable arse to my best friend’s guilt filled one. You are going to apologise to him and get back together with him even if you need to get on your bloody knees and beg for it. Maybe even propose to him on spot. Do I make myself clear!” she ordered.

Ron had never been as proud of her as he was in this moment.

And Draco was so stunned by what she did that he couldn't even form a coherent thought.

“I said; Do I make myself clear!” she repeated. Draco finally snapped out of it. He saluted her, still a bit stunned and scurried off into his room.

“I never thought I would live to see the day that you would slap Malfoy for a second time and see you swear at him,” Ron chuckled as he came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to his chest.

All she did was smile at him.

•••••

“Are you sure I should propose to him now?” Draco asked nervously once he was out of his room, dressed and hair brushed. He was wearing a black turtleneck and black trousers.

“Yes,” both Ron and Hermione said simultaneously.

“He won’t say yes.” He carded a hand through his hair. It was a nervous tick he had acquired sometime before the war.

“He will,” Hermione assured, giving him the engagement ring box.

“You can't be sure,” he mumbled, pocketing the thin ring box and carding another hand through his hair.

“We are,” Ron said, “we've been friends with him since first year.” He put a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder. Ron was very surprised that he actually wanted Malfoy to propose to Harry. He had originally thought that he would be displeased by it, but he wasn't. He was anticipating it, actually. He thought that it was because he wanted his best mate to be happy and content for once in his life; he would be lying if he said that he didn't see how much happier Harry had been when he was dating Malfoy.

“Shall we get going then?” Hermione asked, her bushy hair bouncing behind her as she made her way to the door. She looked over her shoulder to see Malfoy nod tentatively before following behind Ron.

•••••

They were standing in front of Harry's door, looking like absolute idiots. Well... Hermione and Ron were just staring at Draco wondering whether or not he would knock on the door. Draco, on the other hand, was contemplating whether or not he should knock on the door. He could just leave now, Harry didn't know they were here yet...

But, with a look from Hermione, he decided that, for the sake of himself, he shouldn't chance it unless he wanted to get hexed really badly. Then again, a small hex would be better than talking to Harry and maybe proposing.

Oh for Salazar's sake! Why was he getting nervous?! It was just Harry!

But it wasn't just Harry, was it?

No, it never was just him. He was Harry Potter. Golden Boy. Chosen One. Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. The man he loved dearly. He’d never be just Harry in Draco's eyes. To Draco, Harry was everything but those titles the Daily Prophet have given him. To him, Harry was the man who he fell in love with, the one he wants to spend his life and beyond with. He was the man who laughed with him when he did stupid things. He was the only person Draco would go to if he were sad, happy or just tired. He wanted Harry to be with him.

“Just knock on the door already!” Granger groaned, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Can't you do it? You were the one who dragged me here!” he retorted.

“If I have my facts straight, Malfoy, and I do, then I didn't drag you here, you came here on your own free will!”

“You might as well have dragged me! You demanded, no, ordered me to come here!”

“Can you please stop arguing and just open the door already!” Ron cut in.

“Shut up Ronald!”

“Shut up Weasel!” they both said in unison.

“I was just trying to help,” he muttered as they went back to arguing.

“Wtf is happening out here!” Harry's voice silenced everyone as he swung the door open, looking like a right mess.

Everyone froze and stared at each other.

Harry was wearing Draco's favourite soft, green hoodie. His hair was messy; like he had just rolled of his bed from his mid-morning nap.  And his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes Draco had ever seen. Bright emerald green with small hints of brown. It was as if there was a forest living in his eyes. His face was blotchy, as if he had been crying for a while, and looking at his red rimmed eyes, Draco guessed that he had. Harry still looked as cute as ever.

“Draco,” Harry choked out, disbelief glazing his eyes over. He never thought he would ever see Draco again. Harry found that he was glad Draco was here, standing, right in front of his eyes.

“Harry,” Draco sighed out, relief washing over him. Harry didn't hate him. He hadn't shoved him out of his house and he, from what Draco could tell, didn't want him to leave.

Harry noticed Hermione and Ron standing behind the blonde and pulled himself out of it for a second. He could moon over about Draco later.

“Come in,” he stiffly moved out of the doorway and gestured for them to come in.

Once they were sitting at Harry's dining table, each with a cup of tea, did the uncomfortable silence finally settle in. Harry fidgeted; he hated silence, it almost always meant something bad was about to happen.

“So,” he started, not quite knowing what else to say. He was still a bit speechless. His ex-boyfriend and his two best friends, who hated his ex-boyfriend, were sitting in the same room. Together. He had been sure that they had all hated him yet here they were, sitting in front of him, at his dining table, in his house, right before his eyes.

Harry really couldn't process this.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, finally looking at him with those pretty, hopeful, brown eyes.

It was only then he remembered that he had trashed his friends’ house. He hadn't seen how badly he had destroyed the place. No, it had been far too blurry for him to see with tears in his eyes. He hated that he had broken their house, all because he couldn't control his fucking emotions. He hated getting angry for that very reason. He always hurt someone when he couldn't control his emotions.

“How...” he stuttered. “How badly did I ruin your house...” he asked softly, guilt and dread washing over him in tides.

“It wasn't that bad Harry! And we don't care! It wasn't your fault,” the bushy haired girl stressed. She knew that Harry was beating himself up for it.

“How bad was it,” he grit out, his hands clenching and unclenching under the table.

Ron hesitated for a moment. “You... uh.. broke a few picture frames, shattered a few light bulbs, threw a few papers, pens and quills on the floor, made a few things float spilled tea and coffee on the floor because you shattered the cups too...” he mumbled out softly. He winced internally. It sounded really bad now that he said it out loud.

They all saw Harry cave in on himself, gently hugging himself, trying to block everyone out of his life. They saw the thoughts going through his head as clear as day on his face. Harry looked fragile; already chipped and scratched in places but still, just barely, holding through.

Draco did something he never thought he'd ever get the chance to do again.

He stood up from his seat, went over to Harry and just brought him into his arms, just holding him. He knew that he shouldn't be doing it, mainly because he and Harry weren't dating anymore but he couldn't help it. When Harry looked like that, fragile and broken, he wanted to make sure no one else saw him like that. He knew that there were people who would judge Harry if he showed any sign of vulnerability. He had hidden Harry when he had a panic attack in public because he knew what people would say. And now, it had become a habit.

He was assured he had done something right when Harry buried his face into his chest and put his arms around his waist. He smiled down at him, resting his chin on top of a mess of curls.

He heard Granger and Weasel leave the room to give them some privacy.

He heard Harry sniffle slightly and frowned a bit.

He took Harry by the shoulders and put him an arms length away with a bit of difficulty – it seemed that Harry didn't quite want to let him go yet, he was clinging to him pretty tightly. The shorter boy wasn't looking at him, instead finding the floor more interesting. Draco sighed.

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered suddenly. It was so soft and quiet, Draco almost missed it.

“What?” he asked confused. What would Harry even be sorry for?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, fiddling with his fingers.

“For what, my darling?” the pet name was an accident – a reflex –  but, it seemed, not an unwelcome one, judging by how the other boy flushed just a bit pinker under his gaze.

It took a while for the green eyed boy to respond, but when he did, it came out in a mumbled ramble. “I'm sorry for breaking up with you. I knew I shouldn't have done it. You didn't care about what they said about you but for some reason I did. I still have no idea why I was so affected by it when you weren't. It was so unfair on you when you did nothing wrong and it was all my fault that we broke up in the first place and I can't believe you would even ever like someone like me and I'm sorry for being a bad-”

Draco tilted his chin up with his thumb and forefinger, making him gasp and abruptly stop talking. It had been so long since he had stared into those steel grey eyes, so cold to others but so warm to him. Just him. Harry didn't know why he liked the feeling of being something so special in Draco's pretty eyes.

“It's ok, Harry,” he whispered, staring warmly, lovingly, into emerald eyes.

“It's not ok!” Harry croaked. “I hurt you! I trashed Hermione and Ron's house! I messed up! You shouldn't be forgiving me so easily, you should be punishing me, giving me what I deserve!”

“Staying away from me, feeling guilty for all the things you've done, Harry, is punishment enough. You've been torturing yourself for long enough. So please, please, don't push me away,” he begged, desperately searching for any sign of disagreement or discomfort in the other's tear-filled eyes.

Harry was silent for a few moments, going over what Draco had told him. He knew the blonde was telling the truth for his eyes shined with honesty and longing. He knew by the way Draco was holding him – an arm distance away, with his hands lightly holding his shoulders, not wanting to let go – that he wanted to be with him again.

But Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be with Draco. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with him per se, it was about how he thought that he would somehow mess everything up again. He didn't think that either of them would be able to handle it.

“What if I mess up again?” Harry asked him softly, his insecurities showing through. He wanted to be with Draco, but what if he wasn't good enough?

“Then we try harder,” Draco said with determination, pulling Harry into his arms again, to which the other responded by rubbing his cheek against Draco's clothed chest tentatively. Harry wasn't that short, nor was he at all tall, but he was the perfect height to just be tucked under Draco's chin. It was the way they both liked it.

“But what if-” Harry was cut of by Draco squeezing him just a bit more tighter and kissing his hair.

“No if’s or but's. I will forever be with you until the day we die. Or until the day that you decide you didn't need me after all,” he said firmly, but silently dreaded that day if it were to ever come.

“I promise you that that day will never come,” Harry replied, smiling slightly, looping his arms around the other's neck, bringing them close enough to touch their noses.

“Good,” Draco whispered, finally, finally, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss. Short and sweet and perfect, but they both loved it.

They pulled apart slowly, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together, giggling every moment or so because they never thought they'd ever be able to do that again. To feel the burning flames in their hearts whenever they touched or kissed. It made them both immensely happy. It made them both feel whole and loved again.

“Y'know...” Harry grinned, threading his fingers into Draco's hair, “If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought that you were proposing to me, with all that talk about never leaving me and all that.” Silently, Harry oddly wished that Draco would ask him but he pushed those feelings aside; they had just gotten back together, he thought others would judge.

“If you wanted,” Draco started, nerves already getting to him, he knew Harry was just teasing but maybe, Harry would say yes if he asked now. His hands were getting clammy but Harry wouldn't notice; his hands were clasped behind the shorter man's waist. “I could make that possible,” he finished, glancing away from Harry's surprised eyes.

“Wait, really?” He heard Harry's curious voice ask, a hint of surprise and shock leaking through. Draco didn't look at him when he nodded. “You're not joking, right?” his voice shook a little when he spoke, and Draco really wanted to look at him but he dared not.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, look at me,” Harry demanded, putting his palms on the blonde’s cheeks, squeezing them slightly, and making the man look him in the eyes. Harry would have laughed at how ridiculous Draco looked if it weren't for the fact that the git was proposing to him.

Draco looked at him, his silver eyes a pool of anxiety, sureness, determination and love. It almost made Harry dizzy by how much the blonde loved him.

“You don't have to say yes, we could always wait a few more month...” Harry kissed him again, harder and more passionately than before.

“Yes,” Harry whispered against his lips once they pulled apart.

“W-what,” the blonde stuttered, breathless. Draco pulled away slightly to look the other in the eye.

“Yes, I will marry you,” He affirmed, smiling slightly at the man in front of him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, unsure. Harry giggled softly and nodded.

“Yes, Draco,” he sang, dragging out the ‘O’ in Draco, and the blonde melted. He loved it when Harry said his name like that.

“I feel like I should have asked you to marry me while I was down on one knee.”

“Does it matter,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“Not really.” He chuckled. He was sure Harry would be driven mad by him before they got married. On that note, he really should put a ring on him. “But we do need rings.”

“I don't think we have any,” Harry trailed off.

“On the contrary,” he began, stepping away from Harry to search his pockets for the small box while the other watched curiously. “We actually do have rings,” he finished once he had the small velvet box in his palms. He silently put the box in his lover's hands.

Harry opened the box and lost his breath when he found two silver bands with emeralds and diamonds on them. “Draco w-what-”

“Check the inside,” he mumbled, pulling Harry into him so that the brunet had his back to his chest. Draco buried his head into the mess that is Harry's hair, not wanting to show him his flushed cheeks.

Sure enough, Harry saw the small cursive letters engraved in to the inside, one reading “I love you, Draco” and the other, “I love you forevermore, my love”.

“Draco, I-” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. Now was not the time to cry, damn it! “I love them,” he whispered. He could already feel the sting in his eyes.

Draco squeezed him just a bit tighter, already knowing how Harry gets. He took Harry's hands in his, gently taking out the ring that that had “I love you forevermore, my love" engraved on it and slipped it on his ring finger. It was a perfect fit. And Harry, with hands slightly shaking, took out the other ring and slipped it on to Draco's ring finger.

Harry turned around in Draco's arms and brought him down into another kiss. One of Draco's arms curving around Harry's waist while the other cradled his face. Harry's hands dropped from Draco's face, instead going to grab at his shirt.

Harry felt his knees go weak and desperately held on to Draco, who, in turn, tightened his grip on his waist, sliding a teasing tongue under his bottom lip. Harry moaned against Draco's lips, letting his tongue dive into his mouth, tasting every inch of it.

They pulled back, resting their foreheads together, panting and gasping for air.

They smiled at each other.

“You okay?” Draco asked, his voice low and airy.

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed, wanting nothing more than to stay in Draco's arms a little longer.

“I love you, my darling,” he whispered into Harry's hair, having just buried his head into the rats nest again.

“I love you more, Draco,” Harry returned, once again burying his face into Draco's chest.

They stayed like that for a moment and more, doing nothing but holding each other and basking in the familiar warmth and scent the other gave off. Hearts beating fast and hands holding tightly around each other were just the way they liked it, and, from now on, it would stay like that, forevermore.