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Whatever We Are

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### Can I just be someone
Instead of part of something
Instead of just one more ###

### If the box that they made
Doesn’t come in my shape
What does it stand for ###


Draco stood in front of the floor-length mirror in his and Harry’s bedroom and staring at his reflection, he brought this hands up to straightened his perfectly straight Slytherin-green tie.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed the sigh that had bubbled up from somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach and insisted on making itself known to the room.

“Stop it.”

Harry’s reprimand was both firm and gentle which made little sense to anyone but Draco who felt decidedly disinclined to explain his thoughts, though that was mainly because he was on edge and his frayed nerves barely still had the strength to stop himself from hyperventilating. Draco felt Harry’s arms slither around his waist and his chin rest on his shoulder. The touch was familiar and comforting and when Harry’s warm cheek pressed against his ear, Draco briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

His sigh dissipated and he relaxed into Harry’s embrace.

“Can’t,” he mumbled.

“You can and you will.”

Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek and opening his eyes again, Draco looked at him through their reflection in the mirror.

“Only a Gryffindork like you would be so stupidly sure about this completely idiotic thing we’re about to do.”

Harry chuckled.

“Perhaps,” he said.

He pressed another kiss to Draco’s cheek and this time his lips lingered for several seconds.

“I love you,” he murmured.

He pulled away a little and smiled at Draco’s reflection, then tightened his hold on him.

“Yet more proof that you’re absolutely insane, Potter.”

Draco grumbled under his breath but he couldn’t stop the silly grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth and pressured him to smile.

“Takes one to know one, so, you and me both, Malfoy.”

“Potter, this is going to backfire; this is absolutely going to go arse up.”

Harry laughed.

“Oh yes, Malfoy, it most definitely is going arse up, your arse.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Dirty prick.”

“I take offence at that, I’ve impeccable bathroom habits, thank you very much.”

Draco scoffed.

“Why is it that I’m worried about this whole thing going pear-shaped yet here we are bickering like silly teenagers? Are you sure you’re mature enough for what we’re about to do?”

Draco stopped fiddling with his tie and dropping his arms, he let his hands rest on top of Harry’s, who, despite not having played professionally since before the end of the war, reacted with the skill and talent of a Seeker.

He laced their fingers together, squeezed softly and kissed his earlobe.

The sly smirk on his face told Draco that Harry had a plan and although he wanted to take offence at the sheer deviousness Harry was capable of, Draco could not find it in him to do so. It had been a long time since he’d last been seriously angry with Harry — it just wasn’t worth it. Somehow, Harry always ended up getting the upper hand and while that irked Draco, he rather enjoyed it.

“It’s called distraction, Malfoy. Ever heard of it?”

Draco smiled.

“Vaguely,” he said.

“We both know I’m really rather good at it. And yes, I absolutely am mature enough for what we’re about to do.”

“I still think you’re insane. I still think this is insane.”

“So you keep telling me. Yet you aren’t refusing to go through with it.”

“Should I?”

“Please don’t, unless it’s what you want.”

Draco sighed. He turned in Harry’s embrace and looked straight at him rather than his reflection. His green eyes shone with such warmth that Draco felt just a little dizzy.

“What I want is to be accepted for who I am, not to be forced into a box I don’t belong.”

“I accept you for who you are and I can promise you that I will never force you into any box, whether you belong into it or not. I wish I could say the same about other people, but I can’t. However, what I can do is to promise you that I’ll always see you as an individual, not as part of a group. To me, you aren’t one more; you are the only one. You are my someone, and I pray that that will never change.”

The lump in Draco’s throat suddenly felt overwhelmingly large and despite trying his best to swallow past it, he didn’t quite manage. He blinked rather furiously and when Harry brought his hand up and cupped his cheek, he pushed into the touch and smiled softly.

“Sap,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

“Ah but I’m your sap. Now, tell me, are we doing this or not?”

“Potter, after what you just said there, do you honestly still think that there’s even a small chance of me saying no?”

Harry shrugged.

“With you, one never quite knows where one stands. You’re full of surprises, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled.

“When have you learnt to talk like a posh aristocratic idiot?”

“About twelve years ago when I decided to leave my wife because I was finally ready to admit to myself that I was and still am head over heels in love with a posh aristocratic idiot by the name of Draco Malfoy.”

Laughter bubbled up Draco’s throat, broke through the lump that had settled there and burst out of him before he consciously managed to stop it all from happening.

“You win, Potter, you win.”

Harry winked at him.

“Don’t I always?” he asked.

Draco very much wanted to whack him over the head for his cheek but before he could do so, Harry pulled him into a deeply passionate kiss and somehow, everything else became entirely unimportant.

Several minutes later, when Harry slowly broke away from their fiery battle of the tongues, Draco very much wanted to complain that the kiss had been too short and that he wanted more but he was too breathless to summon the energy required to assemble the words, which aimlessly floated around his mind, into a coherent sentence.

He settled for a dazed sort of expression and a silly grin instead. It wasn’t the sort of behaviour that came naturally to him but over the years, Harry’s strange little quirks had very much rubbed off on him and some of them had even become his own little oddities, much like Harry had adopted some of his mannerisms. They’d somehow become so interwoven with one another that Draco often struggled to work out where one of them ended and the other began. There was too much history, too many emotions, too much of everything.

“Whatever you are, you are. Whatever we are, we are. That’s our choice and everyone else can fuck right off,” he mumbled.

Harry nodded.

“There’s the Draco I know. Come on, it’s just a bloody signature.”

Draco glared icy daggers and this time he did whack Harry over the head and took a childish sort of delight in the way Harry yelped and rubbed the back of his head, while accusingly staring at him.

“Getting married is a little more than just a bloody signature, Potter, you complete gobshite.”

Harry laughed heartily.

“Might as well be honest then, I’m just doing this because I want to throw the chocolate cake into your face and embarrass you in front of all our friends and, of course, Scorpius.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things, my darling.”