Strong Love

Against Harry's expectations, his husband was still awake and waiting for him in the living room when he got home that night. He was dressed in a black, skintight undershirt that highlighted the paleness of his skin and showed the dark hickey on his collarbone that wasn't visible under the robes he wore to Hogwarts. His hair was in a loose bun, unlike the slicked back one he had had when he had left the house this morning.

In addition to the fire in the fireplace that Harry had just stepped out of, there were candles burning all over the room, bathing it in a sombre orange light. Harry raised his eyebrows at the unopened bottle of wine and the two glasses on the couch table as he crossed the short distance to where Malfoy sat on the sofa.

"What's that for? And why are you still up?" Harry asked, suddenly guilty at the accusatory tone in his voice, but he was just surprised.

"This is for you because you were at work all day long, and I thought you might like something to calm down when you come home," Malfoy said, absent-mindedly pouring the wine with magic. "And I'm still up because I couldn't sleep."

Harry sat down next to him and put his hand on his knee. "Bad dream?"

Malfoy shrugged, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Yes," he said, his voice low like a confession. "And thinking about you being at the Ministry so late... I don't know. It was just a lot."

With a heavy heart, Harry squeezed Draco's knee and took one of the glasses from him. He felt bad for being the reason why Malfoy couldn't sleep, but he felt even more bad for the dreams that kept him awake, too, because his working hours Harry could do something about, but the dreams were out of his control.

"It was nothing special, really," Malfoy continued and took a sip of wine, closing his eyes for a second. "Just my father again."

From years of experience, Harry knew that Malfoy wasn't a person to talk about his feelings, and even though that had changed quite a lot in the past year they had been together, Draco was still holding a lot of stuff in. On top of all the terrible things that had happened to Malfoy already, his father had died in September, and Harry didn't know if Draco had ever really processed what had happened. He and his mother Narcissa had always been so close, and Harry knew that she loved her son a lot, but Lucius' death had taken a toll on both of them, and it was eating away at them on the inside.

The two Malfoys had almost weekly dinners, some of which Harry attended and some of which he didn't, but there was always a lot of silence at the table, and when they talked, it was about only superficial things like Draco's job or Narcissa's friends. Malfoy had never been taught how to be open about his feelings, and he had never learned how to be vulnerable and let people in. Harry was doing his best to help Malfoy through it all, but he hadn't failed to notice that while Draco seemed happy and together, his nightmares were just as frequent as Harry's own.

"Did you mention anything to your mother about it?" Harry asked against his better judgement.

Just as expected, Malfoy immediately snapped and emptied the glass of wine. "No, Potter, I didn't run to my mummy because I had a bad dream. I haven't done that since I was four."

"Malfoy, I didn't mean that you should run to her about it, but maybe it would help you to talk to her. She might be going through the same thing for all you know."

"You're going through the same thing!" Malfoy argued a good point, his voice suddenly loud and desperate. "I'm talking to you, Potter, and that's already more than I ever expected from me. I don't wantto talk to anyone else. I don't trust anyone else."

Harry put his glass down and took the empty one out of Draco's grasp before he would break it and hurt himself. Harry took Malfoy's hands in his, turning so he could face him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, gently. "I'm glad that you talk to me."

There was silence between them as Malfoy breathed in and out through his nose, his chest and shoulders rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm until he calmed himself down. Panic attacks were as familiar to Harry as the outline of Draco's body, so he immediately knew what was going on. He leaned back a little to give Malfoy room to breathe but kept holding onto his hands to keep him grounded.

"So," Harry whispered when everything seemed alright again. "Want to talk to me, then?"

When Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry and saw his smile, his own face lit up, and he rolled his eyes. "Stop looking at me like that, Potter," he said, holding back a laugh. "I'll tell you about it if you tell me about your day, too."

Harry's lips widened into a grin. "Obviously."

"You first," Malfoy smirked, but Harry wasn't fooled.

"Oh, no, Malfoy. You first, me second. Then you top, me bottom."

His husband straightened up immediately, trying so hard to keep his face under control and to hide his excitement. "Fine. I don't know what to tell you, though. I thought I was over it, I really did, but sometimes at night it just comes back to me that I never got closure, and I never got to have the ending with him that I wanted. We were fighting and haven't spoken in months, and then suddenly he was just... gone, and there was no way for us to find back to each other. I had given up on us finding common ground, and I was fine with never talking to him again. As long as he was alive."

It was slightly overwhelming for Harry to have Draco spill everything at once like that without thinking twice or filtering his words. Moments like these were rare when Malfoy just had to get  everything off his chest and felt comfortable enough not to care, but Harry cherished those moments immensely. He was glad that after so many years of having to hold everything inside in fear of being seen as weak, Malfoy finally had a place he found safe enough to spill all his thoughts and feelings. It had been a long way to get here, but with every day, every talk, and every moment they shared, Harry could feel and see a weight being lifted off of Draco, and he was aspiring to go until no weight was left.

"The thing that pains me the most, I think, is that my mother has to live without him. He and I had never had a particularly loving relationship, and we had stopped having any sort of relationship at all months before he died, but she... She and my father were in love, and she loved him despite, or maybe because, all the mistakes he made and all the flaws he had. They had a relationship, and it might not have been perfect, but I think to her it was. I think she lives not only with the loss of my father but also of the relationship she had with him and the person she was by his side."

It broke Harry's heart to hear Malfoy talk about Narcissa like that. He had never spoken about her in the context of Lucius and always avoided linking the two together, because during last year's events, Draco had realised for the first time how different his mother was from is father. She had accepted Harry and Draco, whereas Lucius had broken off all contact and called Draco "abnormal."

"I just... I don't want her to be sad anymore," Malfoy finished, and again, his shoulders straightened as if they felt lighter than before.

Harry held the back of Draco's hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the pale skin. "Thank you," he said, "for talking to me."

"We had a deal," Malfoy only said and shrugged as if this wasn't a huge thing for both of them as he whipped his wand at the wine bottle and filled their glasses again. "Besides, it feels good to get this off my chest. Now your turn."

Harry sighed and let out a laugh, shaking his head. Malfoy was really unbelievable sometimes. "Well, where do I start?" said Harry with a dramatic undertone. "Ron and I spent the entire morning getting rid of all the files and papers that were of no use to us anymore, and it turned out to be a shocking amount. We had lunch with Hermione, who, of course, had a way better day than us because her work doesn't include looking for a man whose whole idea of fun is torturing me."

Draco grinned at that, but he kept quiet and drank his wine instead.

"Then, in the evening just as I got your Patronus, Christopher told us that one of our charms had rung alarm, so we went. We were just in time before they could figure out how to break the charm, but then it was a whole thing with four men attacking us. One of them got away, but we have three prisoners now. Which reminds me-" Harry perked up. "You know Daphne Greengrass, right?"

Malfoy nodded, furrowing his brow. "The girl from our year? Yes, I know her. I mean, I think I sort of had a thing with her around fourth year, but we all know that that was about as enticing for me as a troll's bare arse. If not less."

Harry snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. He really hadn't needed to know that bit of information. It was hard enough to picture Draco with any girl, let alone the pretty blonde Slytherin who might have spent hours with him in the common room or even in his dorm room. Then again, she was a pretty girl, and Malfoy had already told Harry once before that he was most definitely only attracted to blokes.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because one of the men who's currently sitting in an interrogation room at the Ministry is called Finneas Greengrass, and I was wondering if he might in any way be related to her. I mean, it's not a common name, is it?"

"In the Wizarding World it is," Malfoy shrugged, "but I definitely heard of a Finneas before. I could ask Pansy, but I doubt she would want to talk to me at this hour..."

Harry shook his head. "No, no, it's alright. I think he's our best chance right now, so I thought anything that could help me gain his trust might be worth a try."

"It definitely is," Malfoy agreed. "Maybe he'll tell you all on his own, but if not, Pansy's owl should reach me by lunchtime."

Nodding to himself, Harry was so deep in thought for a momet that he didn't even notice Malfoy getting to his feet. Only when he was already standing, hovering over Harry, and holding his hand out for him, Harry looked up at him. They grinned at each other, and a happy laugh escaped from deep in Harry's stomach, where the butterflies woke up again. He jumped up as well and grabbed Draco by the waist, pressing him flush against him.

"We had a deal, remember?" Malfoy asked, letting his hair fall down.

Harry grinned widely and kissed Draco on the neck, along his jaw, and behind his ear before whispering, "Of course I remember."

On their way out of the living room, they didn't separate and kept kissing each other, their hands never letting go. Harry was immensely grateful for Kreacher, who preferred to stay hidden away if he wasn't needed, and especially at late times like this, when he knew that all "Masters Potter and Malfoy" wanted was privacy.

The stairs were always a struggle, so they finally broke apart only to run up the steps hand in hand, careful not to slip but fast enough to gain momentum as Draco slammed the bedroom door behind them and pushed Harry backward onto the bed. Panting, Harry watched his husband undress himself before taking off Harry's clothes, too, working with skilled fingers that knew exactly how to open each button and loosen a tie. Malfoy bent down to kiss Harry, hard, long, maddeningly, his tongue doing things that made Harry see stars. He got hard just from the look of Draco, but him doing this... it was almost too much.

Malfoy must have felt the same because he pulled away, leaving Harry's tongue feeling utterly alone, and got up again. But Harry wasn't without Malfoy's body heat for too long because the blonde proved his immense strength by flipping Harry around as if he weighted next to nothing. Harry gasped out loud into the mattress as his heart and stomach followed a second later, flipping around with him and making him go crazy. In an instand, Draco's hands were on top of Harry's and he slowly pushed himself inside of Harry, who let out a moan so long until Malfoy was fully inside of him, filling him up, his hips connecting with Harry's ass.

Every thrust seemed to take Malfy deeper and deeper, hitting a spot inside of Harry that was only his. As he had his body draped over Harry's, Malfoy was biting Harry's shoulder in an attempt to keep from crying out. Harry, however, had given up a long time ago and was moaning as if his life depended on it. Only when Malfoy reached his orgasm at the same time as Harry, his beautiful voice crying out Harry's name drowned out Harry's moans. He collapsed on top of Harry, still inside him but not caring enough to do anything about it, and Harry wouldn't have had it any other way.

Pressing a kiss to the bitemarks he had left, Malfoy pulled out of Harry and lay down next to him, both of them lying across the bed on top of the crinked sheets and smiling at each other like idiots on Felix Felicis. Harry kissed Malfoy on the nose, and he crinkled his nose with a smile.

"I love you, Malfoy," Harry mumbled, suddenly so tired that he realised it was almost three in the morning.

"I love you too, Potter," Draco whispered back.

"We should make a baby someday," Harry said quietly as his eyes dropped shut.

Malfoy laughed out loud, and Harry felt his hand softly brushing through his untidy black hair. "That is quite impossible for us to manage," Malfoy said, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "Now sleep, Potty. You're tired."

"I mean it," Harry said because he did. He did mean it. But he also didn't open his eyes because Malfoy was right - he was tired.

"I know," Malfoy whispered, kissing Harry on the forehead. "I know."