"If another one of these sixth years says you put powdered unicorn horn in Polyjuice Potion, I swear to every single one of the gods above, I'm going to throw myself off of one of the towers."
Draco leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. It was well past midnight, and he'd been grading papers for the past four hours. His eyes were burning slightly at the corners, and the tips of his fingers were sore from gripping his quill. The exams he was grading were laid out in front of him in order of year, and he'd been going through each test slowly, checking it twice before starting on the next.
"Darling, you know we have three weeks to grade everything. Why are you pushing yourself so hard?"
Harry walked over to him, coming up behind his chair and gently snaking his arms around the other man's shoulders. Draco sighed, leaning into the touch. He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly towards Harry.
"I know we do. I just want to get this done. There's just so many to grade, Harry, look at all of these papers."
Harry fiddled mindlessly with the button of Draco's dress shirt. "I know," he smiled, "It seems like we have more students every year."
"Well, do they all have to take Potions?"
"Do you want me to help you with the papers?"
Draco's eyes shot open and he sat up a little, Harry's arms moving higher on his shoulders as he does. "No, no, that's quite alright," he said quickly, making Harry laugh.
"I was terrible at potions, wasn't I?"
"I'd never seen anyone less inclined towards the subject, nor have I since." Draco gave him a teasing smile, which Harry returned with a look of mock offense.
"I'll have you know, when Snape wasn't staring at me with his beady black eyes, I actually didn't do terribly in potions."
Draco shook his head and smiled. "Snape was a little intimidating if he didn't like you."
"A little?"
"Well, I wouldn't know. He liked me. Probably because I wasn't terrible at potions."
"So funny," he drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a fond grin. He untangled his arms from around Draco, who gave a small sound of protest, and walked around to the front of Draco's chair.
"Come on, get up. You're taking a break. You're no use to your students if you end up in the Hospital Wing for exhaustion." He held out a hand. Draco rolled his eyes, but took it anyway, letting Harry lead him to the sofa. Draco sat down while Harry walked over to the small kitchen-like area on the other side of the room.
"You sit and relax while I make you some tea."
Draco settled onto the sofa, resting his head against the cushions, watching Harry use his wand to boil the water with a quick enchantment and grab a tea bag.
"You know, Hogwarts has house elves for that."
Harry talked to Draco over his shoulder. "And? I want to make my husband a cup of tea."
Draco smiled. "You know, it tastes better when you use tea leaves and steep it."
"Always so particular," Harry shook his head. "We don't have any of that for this. It's that tea you like when you're nervous, the one with the fancy name."
"Chamomile?" A light laugh escaped from Draco's lips before he could stop it. "How on Earth is that fancy?"
Harry set the cup on the table in front of the other man and sat down himself. "Sounds fancy to me."
"Uncultured," Draco teased.
"Snob," Harry shot back, without any heat behind it.
"Hey!"
He ruffled Draco's hair as he took a sip of his tea. Draco sat back, the teacup held in his hands, balancing on his thigh. Harry rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind him.
Draco let out a sigh of relief into the silence, letting everything around him melt away. He felt warm, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, but then again, he always did around Harry. It doesn't make sense, but when he's with him, all Draco feels is warm and soft and peace. He feels at ease.
And it's the simple things that are the most meaningful because though Draco didn't think anyone else truly noticed him before, he knows that Harry does. Because Harry knows things. How he refuses to wear reading glasses (because no, he's not old), how he switches to French when he's upset, how he always wears socks in the winter. How he still has to squeeze Harry's hand when they walk through traffic in Muggle London. How his fingers are cold, even in the summer. How he always has to sleep in the middle of the bed.
How he drinks chamomile tea when he's stressed.
"Thank you," Draco said softly.
Harry turned to him, his gaze warm. "For the tea? You're welcome, my love."
"No. I mean, yes, for the tea. But also, just, thank you. For everything. For being so good to me. For loving me," he whispered.
Harry moves his arm to run his fingers through the back of Draco's hair. "You're an easy person to love, darling," he whispered back, "And you do the same for me."
"Remember when we both started working here?" Draco asked suddenly.
Harry grinned at the memory. "Christ, we were both so ridiculous. I remember thinking that I just couldn't get rid of you, that I was destined to forever be tormented by an entitled blond ferret."
"I still can't believe you called me a ferret. I look nothing like a ferret."
"I mean, you are rather pointy..."
"Hey!" He nudged Harry's ribs with his elbow.
"But at least it was better than some of the stuff you came up with. I mean, really, Draco, 'Potty'?"
"I was fifteen!"
"And we were fourteen when we started calling you Ferret Face."
Draco finished the last drop of tea, bending over his knees to set the cup on the table with a satisfying click of porcelain against glass. He moved closer to Harry, burrowing slightly into the crook of his shoulder. He turned his head to rest against Harry's.
"When I saw you were the Defense teacher, I was livid. I think Pansy got a headache that night from how much I was yelling."
"She probably did. How is she, by the way?"
"Doing well. France suits her. She's dating a girl from I think it was Nice now. Very in love."
"Good, she deserves it."
"Did you ever imagine we'd get here?"
"You mean before McGonagall locked us in a classroom and basically ordered us to get our shit together?"
Draco laughed and nodded. "Yeah, before that."
Harry shrugged. "Not really. First, I didn't know I liked boys, then, even when I did start noticing that even though you were pointy, it was a nice pointy, everything was such a mess that I didn't ever think to think about it." Harry leaned down and placed his lips against Draco's temple. "But I'm happy we're here, now. I'd say I'm easily one of the luckiest men in the world."
"As am I."
Draco turned his body a little to face Harry, still under his arm. The two looked at each other for a moment. Draco gave Harry a soft, genuine smile - the kind that gave him subtle smile lines and made his eyes crinkle. His gaze drifted down to Harry's lips just as the other's did his, and they both leaned in for a soft kiss, more a caress than anything. Harry feathered his fingers through the front of Draco's hair again, while Draco laid his hand on Harry's torso. Harry's hand moved down to brush his thumb over Draco's cheek.
"Another cup of tea?" he asked softly.
"Yes, please."
And with another quick peck on the lips, Harry went to make another cup of tea, with Draco watching him from the sofa.
You make me feel at ease - you are my peace.