It was the usual Saturday when Harry and Draco always visit Hermione and Ron at the Burrow. Though this Saturday was not the usual one, where normally there were four people present, there were now only two. Draco and Hermione were having tea at Grimmauld Place this Saturday as Harry and Ron were out on an Auror mission out of the country for the week, and won’t be back until Monday.
Hermione clamped her hands around the cup, seeping its warmth through the china and then lift her gaze to stare at Draco, who was sitting opposite her, for a moment.
Draco sipped his own tea and set it down slowly before acknowledging the bushy-haired woman’s look and raised one of his eyebrows in response.
“If you were going to suggest that since we were alone and trying to seduce me to bed you, I’m sorry to tell you that it won’t be happening because one, I am gay, and you know it, and two, I am taken and won’t ever be available anymore. And you know that, too.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, his eyes gleaming in a way that made Hermione broke into a fit of giggles and countered with flicking a spoonful of sugar at him which he dodged and it flew onto the floor behind him.
“Prat.” Said Hermione, affectionately. “I was just going to ask you what you have planned for Harry’s birthday this year. It’s only four days away you know.” And she flicked her wrist, her wand under her sleeve, and Vanished the sugary mess on the floor.
Draco shook his index finger at her, and then shook his head. “That information is highly confidential, woman.”
Hermione snorted inelegantly and huffed. “Right. Because you have no idea what to get for your man.”
“Nah uh, I’ve had it all planned out. Nicely.”
Hermione actually looked surprised, perhaps because it was the first time since Draco and Harry were together – for eight years already, by the way – that Draco actually prepared Harry something for his birthday instead of panicking till the last minute and ending up with just some fancy dinner and lilies.
But Draco does have a plan this year. A really good one, in fact, according to himself. Though there is no way that he would share it with Hermione Granger-Weasley.
He hoped that Harry would appreciate his present and idea. He was quite proud of it himself.
Draco looked up from his teacup where he didn’t even realise that he’d lowered his head down when he was deep in thought with his mysterious gift, and found Hermione continued to stare at him as though still waiting for his answer.
“Let’s just say, that Harry won’t ever forget it.” He replied.
At least, he hoped that he could make him remember it well.
Harry opened the door to Grimmauld Place, keeping his gait steady and footsteps as quietly as he could when he walked in, so not to disturb and wake Mrs. Black, who still refused to be taken down by any means of action, whether it was by magic or manual. After attempting to remove her for a whole year long and when it became clear that Mrs. Black was quite fond of Draco after he moved in with him, Harry simply gave up, thinking that as long as that portrait of a woman kept her mouth shut and her bloody shrieks to herself, then he would just pretend that she didn’t exist.
Harry knew that the house was empty as it was still only a couple of hours past noon so that meant Draco was still at work at Gringotts. Thinking of Draco being at work always made Harry remember their dramatic ‘reunion’, as Ron called it as and still teased him with it sometimes even now, after all those years since the war against Voldemort has ended. He always remembered that day when he was so surprised to see Draco appearing in Kingsley’s office, being introduced as the Curse-Breaker who they would be working with on that particular case.
And it was thanks to that fateful ‘reunion’ that they’ve ended up with what they have today.
You wouldn’t have realised that it has already been eight years ago when Harry first asked Draco out for dinner as a celebration to their success in working together and solving that case that got them meeting each other for a second time.
Harry was due to report to the office at approximately forty minutes later for a wrap-up of the case that he just returned from. He went into the kitchen and made himself sandwich for a simple lunch – Kreacher was released five years ago when Hermione’s appeal for house-elf rights finally went through Ministry officials’ thick skulls and the miserable little creature went to Hogwarts to continue serving because, to quote the elf himself, that he ‘cannot stand to be peeled of its natural duty as a faithful servant to pure-blood wizards and witches’. Harry left a note for Draco in case he was home before he did, telling him that he’s back and were off to the office reporting his return and final procedures of closing the case, and then grabbed his cloak and apparated to the Auror Dept.
It was nearly three hours later that Harry finally made back to Grimmauld Place. The reporting took longer than usual because this case was them working with several Ministries halfway across the globe and dealing with a criminal who had proved to be more of an headache than most of the Dark wizards Harry had chased and captured all these years.
He padded to the drawing room after his usual careful entry and was turning the corner into the kitchen when he heard something clink and clack upstairs, sounding like it came from somewhere near Draco’s working lab.
Although Draco chose to work as a Curse-Breaker, his passion for Potions did not extinguish with his job. Harry still finds it hard to comprehend as to with the little almost to none free time Draco has off from his work, how he had fitted those time gaps for his brewing talents and had even turned the attic into his personal laboratory for that purpose.
Harry changed his direction in mid-step after noticing the noise and went upstairs to check. Upon arriving on the attic floor, he found that the door leading to Draco’s lab at the end of the corridor was indeed half-open and lights were spilling out from the gaps in between the doorframe and the bottom of the door.
Harry could hear distant murmuring flowing through the opens of the doorway into his ears, though he could not make out what Draco was saying. Probably some complicated potions spells that Harry had no desire to know about.
Unfortunately Harry lost the chance to sneak on Draco as said blond had came out of the room, looking oddly tired as he walked towards Harry without noticing him standing there. Just before the lab door closed itself, Harry saw a glimpse of a silvery something, metal-like object from the glints it gave under the dim light in the lab, flew its way across the room and disappeared behind the closed door.
By the time Harry brought his focus back to the other person in the house, his vision was filled with a pair of slate grey eyes and greeted with a smirk-smile pulled on those soft pink lips that he hadn’t realised he’d missed so much until he saw them before him again. He grinned in return and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on those plump lips.
“Hey. I’m back.” He said after pulling away from the touch.
Draco reached up and cupped Harry’s cheek. “Hey, yourself. Welcome back, Harry.” He whispered.
Harry hummed his content under the missed touch of his lover’s, and asked aloud his curiosity. “What were you doing in the lab? I don’t smell potions.”
Draco dropped his hand and took Harry’s hand instead, leading him towards the kitchen while explaining his time occupied in the laboratory, a hint of teasing laughter and secretive tone in his voice. “It’s a surprise. You will get to see it for yourself the day after tomorrow.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at that but did not stop their journey to the kitchen. “A surprise for me? What’s the special occasion? Not that I am complaining or what, but, you’re pants at surprises, Draco.”
It was then that they came into the kitchen, and Draco turned around, arms crossed in front of his chest in mock irritation. “Have you ever heard of a saying that goes like, ‘practice makes perfect’, Potter?” A light glare was sent to enhance his effect of speech.
Harry laughed at his reaction, shook his head and raised both hands above his head in surrender. “I’d ask you when and where and who you’ve actually had practiced with or on, but I think I’ll leave that out for now and just wait and see then. I think it would be a grand surprise.”
Draco sniffed haughtily. “Sure it would. And for your information, it’s your thirty-second birthday coming up the day after tomorrow, Potter.”
Harry blinked, and then widened his eyes as realisation hit him and which made Draco roll his eyes at his impossible obliviousness. He blinked some more and seemed to be at a loss of words for a moment before he found his voice and uttered, “It’s my birthday coming up?”
Draco didn’t even bother to give a response and just stared at him with a ‘How can you not even remember your own birthday’ look in his eyes.
But Harry wasn’t intimidated or rendered ashamed by that look, he merely grinned, flashing all his teeth for Draco to see and blink at, before his hand shot out and gripped the blond by his waist suddenly, pulling him flush against him and making Draco’s nose bump with his chin, and then grinned more down at the scowl now placed firmly on that pale face.
“Can I not just claim my present early tonight?” He said and raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Draco pushed at Harry’s shoulders in a hard-yet-not-too-much shove, forced him to back away a little and pointed his finger against the broad chest, preventing the taller man from getting closer and trying to hug him again. And, in a flat voice, said, “No. You either wait till the time, or you aren’t getting any.”
And then he stalked to the kitchen counter and stove, flicked his wand in every direction within the kitchen area and steamy food and salad soon appeared on the dining table. He looked up at Harry when everything was prepared, and announced, his tone even.
“Now, let’s eat dinner.”
Wednesday, namely, Harry’s birthday came rather fast, sooner than Harry had expected since he was waiting anxiously for this day to come and more than curious as to what Draco had in store for him. He had been sitting in his office, working up his anxiety and nearly exploding himself mentally with the accumulated anticipation.
How could he not? This is the first time Draco actually put in effort of preparing him something for any occasion that was special to them other than just a dinner and a night’s blissful shag. Well, in all honesty, Harry hoped that even as Draco planned something spectacular for him, he would still leave these two things in place accordingly. Or at least the shagging part would be left untouched. He’s turning thirty-two, yes, but he wasn’t really getting ‘old’.
As the hour hand of the Muggle clock that was given by Hermione as a Christmas gift a few years back because Harry just forgot or can’t be bothered to cast the tempus charm way too often striked six, Harry shot out of his chair, startling his fellow Aurors who shared the office with him, he bid them all goodbyes and headed to the Atrium to take the Floo and back to Grimmauld Place.
Harry stepped out of the fireplace and was welcomed with an aroma that promised delicious dishes and making his stomach grumble and his mouth water. He followed the scent and came into confrontation with a magnificent sight that he doubted never had graced the kitchen of Grimmauld Place before, ever. There were dishes in various colours and most of them he can’t even name – and he was certain that Draco definitely wouldn’t be able to, too. And then found his counterpart with his back turned to him, busying over the stove.
Harry walked up to him and circled his arms around Draco’s waist loosely as he approached, intent on making the blond jump a little but it was in vain. Draco remained calm and steady of the task on hand, which was stirring some kind of brownish-red stew soup that made Harry’s saliva threatened to leak out of his mouth yet again. He buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck and inhaled the cologne fragrance of his lover’s deeply, its scent mixed with the steaming aroma of the food in front of them.
Draco stirred at the soup one more time before clacking the wooden spoon at the rim of pot and dropping it into the sink at his right, turned off the stove and then turned himself around to face Harry. The expression on his face was tender, the gleam in his eyes was so loving that Harry felt his cock gave a throb in response.
“Hello birthday boy. Right on time eh?” Draco asked lightly.
Harry sniffed at the air before looking back at Draco again, wearing a grin on his face. He laughed. “Can’t stop thinking about that surprise you told me you’ve got up for me ever since I knew about it. I suppose this is that mysterious surprise then?” He gestured the dining table and the stew sitting on the stove, still boiling in the afterheat. “You never cooked before for any of my birthday. No, scratch that. You never cooked, at all.” And then he has got this doubtful look after a brief consideration of the situation. “For that matter, are the foods edible? I wouldn’t want you to go through all the hard works just ending up with me food poisoned.” He joked and as usual gotten himself a glare from the blond.
“No, you git. First, this is just dinner, not that surprise you were hoping for, this is too lame to be a surprise. And for your information, no, I don’t cook often and in truth can’t really cook as well, but you don’t have to worry about getting poisoned by sheer food, our lovely and kind Mrs. Granger-Weasley actually helped me with it as an exchange for being the first and only one knowing about what I had set up for you.” He pushed at Harry for him to back off and then turned back around and waved his wand over the top of the pot, levitating it carefully towards the dining table. Once he settled it down, he gestured for Harry to take a seat, and after dimming the room with only a dozen floating candles giving it a gentle glow of light, Draco joined Harry at the table.
Dinner was a slow progress with exchanges of light conversations in between feeding each other mouthfuls of nutrients; they talked about things about Harry’s case out of the country and Draco’s annoyance at the incompetence of the group of new Curse-Breaker trainees he had to instruct.
It was nearly two hours later when they finished cleaning up the kitchen and putting away the washed dishes and plates together. And after that, knowing that Harry’s curiosity was biting at him as he has nothing to be occupied with at the moment, and his face showed the very fact of this, Draco urged him up to their bedroom where he had already set the present for him.
Harry noticed the stand that held a pensieve placed next to their bedroom window immediately when he had entered the room. Though that particular pensieve was not the usual ones he’d seen down at the Ministry’s archive. The pensieves that he had come in contact with until now were all made of silver. This one sitting in their bedroom was apparently forest green. Harry had figured after seeing the object that this probably was what Draco had set up for him, though he don’t know why was it different from ordinary pensieves and why was Draco giving him a pensieve, of all things, to him as a birthday present. He don’t do work at home.
He turned to Draco who had come to stand next to him while he was in a muse. Harry pointed at the pensieve in a silent question and received an affirmative nod from the blond in return. Draco then lifted his wand and in a flourish motion, Summoned a jar with one green ribbon tied at its neck, silvery strands of wisp floating leisurely in the container.
Memories. Harry realised after a brief bemusement. Those are memories. But… of what?
He watched Draco as he walked to the pensieve, tapped its side with his wand three times, the water in the pensieve immediately started moving, and then held out the memory-filled jar to Harry, beckoning him to come closer and take it.
Harry complied, stepping up and accepted the jar, while peeking inside the pensieve. It seemed ordinary enough despite its unusual design. And then Draco spoke up beside him, sounding cheerful and proud all at once.
“That, is your present and this,” he pointed a finger to the flowing liquid within the pensieve. “Is your surprise. The colour of it does nothing, though, if you’re wondering. It’s just for the sake of differentiation and green is your colour.” And then he looked up to Harry, holding his eyes as he turned his gaze on him, and urged softly, “Pick one and have a look.”
Harry curiously lifted the lid and peeked inside those drifting threads of wisps before he tipped the jar and poured one of the memories out into the pensieve. He took one last glance at Draco before dipping his head into the basin.
The restaurant was quite peaceful despite it was full of customers, nearly every table was taken. Harry was sitting by himself at a table in the corner, fidgeting slightly, occasionally running his hand through his hair or fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. He looked at the doorway just in time to see the blond head he was waiting anxiously for appeared, huddled by the bustling waiters and waitresses. He seemed to spot Harry after a quick scan in the crowd and was slowly approaching the table.
The Draco in the memory arrived at the table and suddenly Harry was looking at himself across the table. Harry knew that this was because the memory was in Draco’s point of view and thus he’s seeing what Draco saw that night.
They exchanged brief and somewhat awkward – on Harry’s part – greetings and settled down to order their food. There weren’t much conversation going on as Harry seemed to be at a loss of words.
Harry grimaced at his clumsiness back then and mentally scolding himself for being such a wreck. Draco must have been either very patient or didn’t notice his awkwardness, which Harry doubted since Draco seemed to be very sensitive at subtlety even back then, and if he did knew about Harry’s state of mind, he didn’t show it. Harry was grateful that back then Draco didn’t embarrass him further than he already was by pointing that out.
When the deserts were served, Harry congratulated Draco for a good work done in finishing that extremely troublesome case and thanked him for the help and cooperation he put up with the Aurors. Then he went on with saying that he’d like to start over and continue to associate with Draco as a friend and then extended his hand across the table – fifteen year later and with reversed roles – and offered Draco a hand in friendship.
There was a long pause while Draco seemed to consider him with great intensity and seriousness – Harry could feel the emotions that Draco was feeling then as he was looking through his point of view – before reaching out and shook Harry’s hand with a small smile on his lips.
Harry ducked out of the water and turned to look at Draco who was now standing right next to the pensieve, looking at him with knowing eyes. Harry opened his mouth to ask about the memory, but Draco beat him by taking the jar from his hands, withdrew the memory from the pensieve and placed another two into it and settled the jar on the window pane beside him, and then looked back at Harry expectantly as though he knew what he was going to ask.
Harry blinked a few times before remembering what he was about to say and continued on, “These memories…”
Draco nodded. “They’re memories of us, Harry. I thought we might keep them stored in a place to be reminded of their significance to our relationship, to us.”
Harry only stared at him, so long that when he came back to focus he found his mouth wide open as he belatedly processed Draco’s word into his consciousness, and then another moment to comprehend the implication before he blinked yet again, grabbing Draco’s biceps and blurted the first question that came to his mind. “But Draco, if those were all the memories you had of us, and you took them out of your head to keep them somewhere outside of it, then doesn’t that mean that you don’t remember them in your memory?”
Draco smiled and lifted his hand to point a finger at his temple. “I still have them in here, Harry. These ones in the jar are replicates I spelled to create for you to know how I felt of everything we went through. Don’t worry, I won’t ever forget them.” He moved his fingers to his mouth, and then pressed those fingers onto Harry’s lips. Harry’s gaze softened at the gesture. It was how they exchanged affections when they were still in a secret relationship when they haven’t come out to their friends.
Draco dropped his hand and pushed on Harry’s shoulder lightly, motioning him to go back to the pensieve. This time Harry plucked in obediently without any hesitation.
It was at some park near the Ministry, but Harry himself was nowhere to be found. Draco was staring blankly ahead at nowhere in particular from the spot where he stood. He was startled at hearing footsteps coming towards him behind him, and set his face into a scowl before turning around to face the person approaching.
And it was Harry. Running rapidly towards Draco and was in such a haste that he nearly tripped over himself twice.
“Draco! Wait! Let me explain!” Harry heard himself shouted.
“There’s nothing needing explanation. Just go away and leave me alone, Potter.” Draco’s voice was cold, his face colder.
Harry remembered this scenario all too well. It was that stupid misunderstanding which was caused by some idiotic reporter catching him and Draco out to dinner and having an intimate conversation or that sort and caught them on camera and published the news with a stupid headline stating that he and Draco were in a secret relationship. Which was not a fact yet, back then. Not until after this.
That memory ended with Harry taking Draco into his arms in a grateful embrace and then the memory blurred and shifted to the next one.
They were attending Ron and Hermione’s wedding at The Burrow. The newly-wed couple had just exchanged their rings and been announced husband and wife. Harry was clapping along with the rest of the guests and stealing glances at Draco who was standing next to him. Harry seemed to be nervous about something.
Harry smiled as he recalled what happened afterward with him and Draco. It was the day he asked Draco’s hand in marriage. Well, sort of, since couples the same gender can’t really marry under normal circumstances.
Harry pulled Draco somewhere away from the gathered guests who were congratulating the happy couple. Draco was looking at him with a look of curiosity mingled with suspicion.
Harry took a deep breath before taking Draco’s hand in both of his, holding it against his chest, he began the short speech he had prepared for this, and when he finished, Harry could feel from Draco’s point of view that his heart was pounding rapidly with an increasing speed as he waits for Harry’s ultimate question.
Harry took out an velvet jewel box and held it out to Draco without opening it, but anyone would know what sat in there.
Harry didn’t need to see through Draco’s eyes to know how he was feeling at that moment, because he could recall it so well and looking at it in a pensieve now only made it seemed more like it had just happened yesterday. He was more nervous than what Draco’s anticipation had caused in his reaction – which he wouldn’t have known back then that they actually shared the same sentiment – as he state aloud of his request, trying as hard as he could to not stumble on the words.
“What I wanted to say is,” Harry took yet another deep breath and let it out through his nose before he continued, “would you be mine forever, Draco?”
Harry felt the same satisfaction washed over him as he watched himself in the memory relishing in the contentment of having Draco in his arms after he slipped the promise ring onto Draco’s finger when he gave a slightly shaky affirmation. He was still drowned in the emotion overwhelming him once again even when he had pulled out of the pensieve to look at Draco as though he could not believe that he was still here, by his side.
Draco was smiling at him and, stepping closer to him, he murmured, “Happy birthday, Harry.”
He was pulled into a fierce hug the next moment when Harry held him tightly against him. His face was attacked with pouring kisses as Harry grabbed his face in his hands and dropped sweet kisses everywhere until finally landing squarely on Draco’s lips in a fiery kiss that was simply filled with too many emotions that naming them one by one would be a task declared impossible.
Harry was soaking in the sensation that he was left feeling from the last memory he just went through, sending his everything through their connected lips in hopes of conveying his love over and over again to the man smiling in his arms.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Harry leaned his forehead against Draco’s and, holding his gaze, he whispered, his voice flowing with uncontrollable emotions that were still flooding him. “Thank you. Thank you for acknowledging the significance of those memories of us.”
Draco laughed softly, raised both his hands and threading them into that messy raven-black hair. “No, thank you. For keeping your promise. I love you, always will.”
That night they made love in the most sensational way. It was slow, as though they wanted to make it last, burn this night into their memory and remember each and every detail there was. Harry watched the way Draco writhed and moaned under his touch, the way his brows furrowed slightly as Harry entered him and the way his lips parted in a silent scream as the waves of orgasm hit him. And the way of how their hands were intertwined through every minute, connected every second.
Harry was certain that he would forever treasure this night.
They were cuddled in a tangle of limps when Harry broke the blissful silence following their previously heated activity.
“You think we’ll ever get tired of each other?”
He was at the receiving end of the long time no see Malfoy death glare as the blond looked up at him from the nape of his neck, and Harry yelped abruptly when Draco grabbed his spent cock in a near-death grip.
“Are you implying that you may be getting rid of me someday?” Draco asked in a voice hinted with threat, as though daring Harry to state otherwise.
“No, that was a stupid question. I love you, Draco, you know I do.”
Draco nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Because this,” he squeezed the warm weight in his hand, drawing a moan from Harry’s parted lips. “Is mine. And this,” he leaned up and bit not so gently on his counterpart’s lower lip before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. “Is mine. And this,” he place his hand flat against Harry’s chest at the spot where he could feel the other man’s steady heartbeats against his palm. “Is definitely mine. No refund or exchange.”
Harry took hold of the hand resting on his heart and bent his head to kiss the sweat-covered forehead.
“I am all yours. And so are you, mine to keep for as long as this life leads.” He said wholeheartedly.
Draco smiled, watching as Harry pulled him close before slowly dropping his eyelids and covered those intense greens of his eyes. Before he did the same and gone to sleep as well, Draco lifted his wand from the bedside table and touched the tip of it to Harry’s temple, withdrawing a silvery strand of wisp, flicked his wrist and murmured the spell that replicates the memory. Sending the cloned one to the pensieve sitting on the stand beside the window and the original memory back to Harry, he tangled his legs with Harry’s under the duvet and closed his eyes. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: There would be a chaptered-fic back story to this planned to be written and posted in the near future, if anyone was wondering. Thanks for reading!