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Cursed

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“Have I ever cursed you?”

Harry looked up from the book he was reading on the couch to look at his boyfriend. Draco was leaning against the kitchen counter, tea mug in one hand and the paper in the other. It was sights like this that Harry couldn’t believe how far they both had come since their second meeting on the train to Hogwarts eight years prior.

“I’m sorry. What?”

Draco rolled his eyes affectionately, “Have I ever cursed you? Since we’ve gotten together anyways?”

Harry thought for a moment before shaking his head, “No. I don’t think so anyways. Why?”

Draco ignored the final question before strolling over the back of the couch. He slowly bent over so his head rested next to Harry’s and his arms draped over his shoulders, still holding the newspaper.

“That’s what I thought. So would you please tell that dreadful Prophet woman that. I would appreciate the lack of howlers from angry fans at work.”

Harry glanced down at the Daily Prophet’s headline:

            Golden Boy Bewitched by Death-Eater Boyfriend: Is the Savior Under the Imperious?

Harry grinned slyly and turned towards his boyfriend, “I don’t know…Maybe you did spell me.”

Draco actually looked offended at this, “What!? I would never!”

As he tried to stand up, Harry grabbed his forearm and pulled him over the back of the couch, so he landed in his lap. Before Draco could protest anything, Harry cut him off with a chaste kiss.

“I never said I was complaining.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows, and Draco hit him firmly with a pillow.

Twenty minutes later found Harry cuddled against Draco chest, Draco running his pale finger through tangled dark hair and wondering what in Merlin’s name had he done in order to deserve the sleeping man in his arms.