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It was a rainy day today, a Saturday at the start of June, and it was a good day. Harry Potter and his best friend Ron were sitting on pillows in front of his couch at number 12, Grimmauld Place, and it was a good day.
Harry Potter had been living the life of a married man for less than six months, but sometimes, it felt like an eternity already. Some days were good: his work as an Auror at the Ministry of Magic was good, and catching bad guys came easy sometimes. Harry had friends who were like family to him, and he had his actual family Draco Malfoy. He often got to see his godson Teddy Lupin and was able to watch the little boy grow up.
Harry's husband was the love of his life all of the time, but some days, he drove Harry absolutely insane. They had lived together for five months before even getting married, but Harry had never realized what a piece of work Malfoy really was. Harry understood, of course, why Draco was the way he was - why he liked things neat and clean and why he liked to fight. That had always been their thing: fighting and making up and then doing it all over again. They still always made up, and fighting was still just as exciting as it had been six and more months ago.
But sometimes, they needed time apart, too, and then it came in handy that they could both be so busy with work that they didn't even have to try to be separated; it came all on its own. Malfoy's position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts allowed him to spend all day and all night at the castle if he wanted to. Usually, he didn't want to and came home in the evenings, but sometimes he stayed and worked until way after Harry had already gone to bed, and by the time they woke up next to each other, everything was forgotten and forgiven.
Harry's best friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had gotten married recently, too, and they shared Harry's and Malfoy's troubles. They, too, had lived in the blissful honeymoon phase for about a month or two before the reality of marriage had kicked in. Ron had even compared Hermione to his mother, what had resulted in her kicking him out, what had brought Ron here, to Harry's living room, whining about it.
"At least you and Malfoy lived together before," Ron said. "Hermione and I have only ever shared my bedroom in a house with my parents in it. We never really lived on our own before."
Harry felt sympathetic, but he knew that living together with Draco even before their marriage hadn't brought only advantages. He knew that they had the same problems as every other married couple, only they had different ways to resolve their issues.
"She's driving me mental," Ron groaned, resulting in Harry shoving the glass of beer toward him. Ron picked it up, drank, and as soon as it was back down on the glass coffee table, he continued. "She just can't leave well enough alone. When I tell her I'll do the dishes later, I will. But for some reason, they can't wait for ten bloody minutes until I'm done with my work. But if she, oh, if she wants to finish her chapter first, everything else can wait."
Harry shook his head, laughing, and leaned back against the couch. They had played Wizards Chess for a while but ended hours ago because Ron was simply unbeatable today. Malfoy had left this morning with a wide smile and a kiss from Harry, and he had promised to be back as soon as possible. They had a lot to do these days, what with Harry's work at the Ministry, Malfoy's work at Hogwarts, having Teddy over every other week, and attending galas and charity events. But Harry loved his life. He loved his work, even though the cases were getting harder and harder to solve. He loved his husband, of course, more than anything in the world, apart from maybe his little godson. Against all odds, Harry even loved going to events because there he could continue to do something good with the money he earned and the status he had.
"Do you know when he's coming home?" Ron asked, referring to Malfoy. "I'd rather not be here if he decides to jump you like last time."
Harry laughed out loud, remembering Ron's horrified face two weeks ago when he and Harry had stepped out of the fireplace in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and Malfoy, not having noticed Ron, pinned him against the wall and kissed him fiercely. Ron had cleared his throat and said, "Oh, bloody hell!" and Malfoy had frozen against Harry's lips before peeling himself off of him and throwing Ron a forced smile.
Harry, too, would rather not repeat that event, but he only shook his head and waved off. "Don't worry about that. He knows you're here," Harry said with a laugh.
Ron's face was surprised at first, but then it melted into something close to annoyance maybe. "Of course he does."
"He won't be home until dinner," Harry continued, deciding to ignore Ron's look. "He said he'll swing by Pansy's later, so you can stay as long as you want to. But can I just say," Harry added carefully, "you shouldn't leave Hermione alone for too long. We all know how she can get."
Ron nodded, understanding Harry completely. They sat together for a while longer, finishing their beer and talking about the case they had taken up at the Ministry. Soon, the chessboard was replaced with stacks and stacks of paperwork, and they seamlessly went over to coming up with a strategy for the case. They had Dean Thomas and Christopher Wednesbury on that case as well, but only as their assistants, since Dean had too many cases of his own already, and Christopher was - while having improved a little over the past few months - still not a very competent Auror to do things on his own. Harry liked him, yes, but it simply wasn't his job to babysit a full-grown man. He had mentored Chris for a while at the beginning of the year when things were slow and he had no cases of his own; only popping up and checking in on others to make sure everything was going alright, but that time was over. It was time for Christopher to put on his big-boy-pants and lose the training wheels. Maybe that was exactly the reason why the Misister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had assigned him to this case: here he was under the supervision of two of their best Aurors, while still having to get things done without help.
"Have you told Hermione about it?" Harry asked, his hands flipping through a binder, looking for a map.
Ron shook his head, his hands doing exactly the same thing with another binder. "No. You?"
Harry shook his head as well. They weren't allowed to talk about their work to anyone - classified information and such - but they had debated telling their spouses. Living in a marriage where you were legally required to keep secrets was weird, but they made it work. Malfoy was a nosy little bugger, and he kept pestering Harry with questions, but Harry lovingly and smoothly changed the topic every time, and the subject was dropped. Hermione knew that they weren't allowed to tell her anything, and she had accepted that a long time ago.
Harry found the map they were looking for and unfolded it on top of their documents on the coffee table. There were red dots all over the place, showing them where Dark Wizards were reported; blue dots to show where Dark Magic was detected by the Ministry; and finally, green dots where the area had been checked out and cleared.
At the sight of the almost overwhelming amount of red and blue dots, Harry let out a sigh. "Want another beer?" he asked.
Ron laughed. "Yes, please."
Harry was just about to whip his wand to get two more bottles when the flames in the fireplace turned green. His heart skipped a beat, thinking that it might be Malfoy even though it wasn't yet dinner time. Out stepped Ron's wife, though, and Harry's other absolute best friend, Hermione Granger. Her face immediately made Harry set down his wand again, and he shared a look with Ron.
"Ronald, I can't believe you're here!" Hermione snapped. Harry knew as well as Ron that when Hermione used his full name, he was in big trouble. The last time she had used it was in the forest when Ron came back with the Sword of Gryffindor. Her flaming eyes fixed on Harry. "You should not let him in," she said.
Harry dropped his jaw in a dramatic manner, the way he always did when Hermione was being unreasonable. "Excuse me, Mrs Weasley, we are working," he said.
Ron raised his eyebrows, a mock-serious look on his face, and nodded too many times. "Yes, honey. What can I do for you?"
A smile was sneaking into Hermione's face, Harry could see it, but she tried so hard to hide it. "You two are idiots, do you know that?" Harry laughed in response, making her finally crack up. "Merlin, okay, I'm leaving. But Ron," she pointed at him, "come home when you're done."
Ron jumped to his feet like a soldier in attendance. "Yes, honey."
Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips, and she kissed Ron on the cheek. She pressed another kiss to the top of Harry's head. "I'll see you next week with Teddy?"
Harry nodded and promised her that she would. As soon as Hermione was gone, he and Ron turned back to their work and drank another bottle of beer. When that was empty, Harry and Ron whipped their wands to clean up the table just in time for the flames to turn green again. This time, it was indeed Harry's husband who came into view, bringing sunshine and warmth and love right with him. Ron was already on his feet, and Harry had to laugh at the apprehensive look on his face.
Malfoy was truly the most beautiful person Harry had ever encountered, and still, every time he saw him, his breath was taken away. His silver hair was longer now, and he wore it in a bun most of the time, but when he let it down, it rested on his shoulders and looked so soft that Harry sometimes couldn't help but run his fingers through it. Teddy loved his hair, too, and loved pulling at it when Malfoy carried him. The little boy, a Metamorphagus like his mother Nymphadora Tonks, sometimes changed his naturally blue hair to match Harry's or Draco's, or sometimes red like the Weasleys.
"Good evening, Weasley," Malfoy said with such a wide grin that made Harry chuckle and Ron take a step backward.
"Good evening, Malfoy," he replied and headed to the hallway. "Bye Malfoy. Bye Harry, see you Monday at work."
Harry laughed and waved Ron off until he heard the front door close, then immediately turned around to his husband. "Good evening, love," Harry said, mimicking Malfoy's classy voice, smooth like good liquor.
Draco rolled his eyes, but he was wearing the same little grin that Hermione had worn earlier. He stepped closer to Harry, and the air was chared immediately with an electricity that could knock Harry off his feet. They weren't even touching yet, but oh, Harry could die in these moments. Malfoy's scent was intoxicating: that clean, minty, and lemony smell that he (infuriatingly) still had after an entire day of working. His eyes - those grey, deep, beautiful eyes - were looking into Harry's, eating him up and making him swoon without a single word even having been said.
"Merlin, I love you so much." It was somehow impossible for Harry's voice to come out as more than a whisper, but it did to Malfoy exactly what he hoped it would do: it melted him into a puddle right next to Harry's.
"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy whispered back and finally closed the space between them and kissed Harry, and he might have died right then and there.
Life had been crazy for such a long time for both of them, putting them down time and time again. Yet here they were, both of them, together, and standing tall. Harry felt as if they were on top of the world. With Draco Malfoy by his side, he knew he could do everything.
"What's this?" Malfoy asked with a sly grin, eyeing the cleaned up paper on the coffee table.
Harry laughed and kissed him before whipping out his wand and levitating the documents upstairs into his office. He grabbed Draco's hand, and both of them headed downstairs into the kitchen, where Kreacher's food was bubbling on the stove. The little house elf snapped his fingers as soon as Harry and Malfoy were seated, and food appeared on their plates. They thanked Kreacher, who was bowing so low that his nose almost touched the floor, a habit Harry couldn't get him to give up.
"It's an honor, Master Potter," the elf said, standing upright again. "Kreacher will go to his room now."
With a nod, Harry dismissed the elf, who carried his little plate of food upstairs with him to his "room," which was really just a hole in the wall, but he loved it so much that Harry didn't have the heart to evict him. The food was delicious, and Malfoy opened a bottle of white wine while they ate.
"So tell me, why was Weasley here?" Malfoy asked over his third glass of wine.
Harry swallowed his food down with a gulp of his own drink. "Oh, I don't know. He had some kind of argument with Hermione, and, well, you know how they are."
Malfoy nodded with a roll of his eyes. "Oh, I know. And how's the case going?"
Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head, and turned back to his food. "You know very well that I can't tell you that, Malfoy."
The blonde shrugged his shoulders and emptied his glass. "I mean, it was worth a try."
They laughed and finished their dinner while Malfoy told Harry about his day. McGonagall was doing well and had asked for Harry, apparently. Malfoy got to see her way more than Harry did, of course, because she usually attended dinners at Hogwarts and ate at the same table as Draco. Harry was in contact with her, though, and they wrote many letters back and forth. Draco's students loved him, even though very few of them were still giving him snide looks - no one would ever know if that was because he was a former Death Eater or gay or both. It made Harry just so indescribably proud to watch his husband grow and prosper in his job, finally able to do something he loved.
After dinner, they walked upstairs hand in hand. Draco went to take a shower, and Harry headed to his office, arranging and rearranging the stacks of paperwork. They met in front of the sink, brushing their teeth together before heading into Sirius Black's old bedroom that was now theirs. Harry helped Malfoy out of his clothes, unbuttoning his shirt while Draco took off Harry's sweatpants. They fell into bed together, cuddling up under the blanket. Harry pressed a kiss to Malfoy's collarbone and grinned at the sharp intake of breath.
"Next week is going to be stressful," Harry sighed.
Malfoy nodded, kissing Harry's jaw. "I know," he whispered. "So relax while you can."