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In Which Not So First Introductions Are Made

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Harry watches as Draco fiddles with his robes in the mirror. He has been at it for fifteen minutes now and if he doesn't stop soon, they are going to be late. He lets out a quite sigh, but Draco doesn't hear him. Blonde fringes fall into his eyes and he frantically pushes them back and begins styling his hair again.

Harry takes a moment to admire his boyfriend. He is gorgeous as always, in his form fitting forest green robe with black trimming. His blonde hair is swept over his shoulders from where he has been growing it out recently and pulled back with a silver dragon clip Harry bought him. His normally cool grey eyes betray the panic he is currently feeling. Harry sighs, louder this time. “We are going to be late Dray,” he informs his lover.

Draco turns, looking worried. Harry loves how open Draco is with him, but he hates seeing him like this. “It'll be fine love,” he reassures.

“Really Potter? Can you see the future now?” he snaps back, “We are going to have supper with my parents. Where I am going to introduce you. As my boyfriend. Something is bound to go wrong, it always does with you.”

“You don't know that,” Harry answers, ignoring blatantly the last part of the statement. It's a bit true after all.

Draco just gives him a look and turns around again, clearly not feeling the need to verbalize his thoughts on that.

Harry goes over and wraps his arms around Draco's stomach, holding him from behind. The tension drains out of the other boy's body as he gratefully leans back into the embrace. He rests his head against Harry's shoulder and lets out a soft breath. “How can you be so calm?” he asks.

Truthfully Harry isn't calm. Nor is he any more optimistic about this visit than Draco is. But both of them can't be nervous wrecks. And – frankly – Harry couldn't give a damn about the whole thing. He is only doing this because it is important to Draco.

His boyfriend desperately wants his parents to accept their relationship. Harry? He doesn't care past the fact that their rejection would hurt Draco. Narcissa may have saved his life in the Forbidden Forest, but that was only because of Draco, not Harry. It hardly means they get along. And Lucius... well. He has no hope the Great Lord Malfoy is going to be happy about this. His reaction is a forgone conclusion in Harry's mind.

So Harry doesn't have nearly as much to be worried about as Draco does. Therefore it is his job right now to be the strong and calm one. He moves his head to gently kiss Draco's neck. “How can they not love me?” he asks, tone teasing, “I'm the Beloved Saviour of the Wizarding World after all. Everyone loves me. Just ask the Daily Prophet.”

Draco lets out an inelegant snort. “You mean that rubbish you shoot spells at every morning for fun?”

“Dray,” he gasps, “how can you accuse me of doing such a thing to our important and honest delivery of our daily news?”

Draco turns so he can look at Harry, smirk on his face as he says, “Incendio.”

Harry grins. “Keeps me in practice.” He then kisses the tip of Draco's nose, purely for the reaction.

Predictably Draco scrunches his nose, looking adorable. Not that Harry would ever use that word out loud. Draco is temperamental as it is, without baiting him. “Come on love, time to go.”

The tension returns immediately, Draco's playful mood gone in an instant. None the less, he nods in agreement and slips into his 'cool and collected Malfoy' mask.

Harry is never a fan of the mask, but he understands why the other boy uses it. After years of instilling it, it is a hard habit to break, not even counting the fact that it is his main defense mechanism.

So he doesn't say anything, just laces their fingers together as they leave the bedroom and walk to their fireplace. Draco goes first and catches Harry as he follows. Even after all these years he still can't exit a floo gracefully. Or a portkey. Or apparate. A broom is basically the only magical transportation he can handle in a dignified manor. He mourns the fact that it isn't a feasible form of transportation daily.

Draco fusses with his robe, straightening and cleaning the soot off. Harry stands still, letting him. Finally, when he is satisfied he calls “Tilly.”

A house elf appears. “Hows may Tilly bes helping yous?”

“Inform Mother and Father that I have arrived with my guest.”

“Rights away Young Master,” Tilly says before popping away. She comes back moments later. “The Lord and Lady Malfoy are being in the parlor waiting,” she tells them before vanishing again.

Draco nods to himself and turns towards the door. Harry reaches out a hand, taking Draco's again. He doesn't say anything, but Harry can read the emotions veiled in his eyes.

“Never alone,” he murmurs, reassuringly.

They walk side by side down the halls and into the parlor. The only sign of unease is how tightly Draco is clutching Harry's hand.

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy are sitting on a sofa in front of a fireplace. Both look as elegant as ever, even if Lucius is still clearly recovering from the War. His face is far too sharp and his eyes too haunted. None the less he still carries his dignity with him like a cloak, showing no weakness. There is a tea set on the table in front of them, ready for use.

“Mother, Father,” Draco greets, “May I introduce you to my... boyfriend Harry Potter,” he pauses, barely noticeable at the last part, but he does not back down, standing proudly.

“Oh my Dragon,” Narcissa exclaims, sounding faintly horrified, “This is your partner?”

“Yes,” is the only thing Draco says in reply. Harry squeezes his hand, offering support.

“But what about that lovely Greengrass girl – Astoria? Or Pansy? The two of you have known each other since childhood. Or even –“

“Narcissa,” Lucius interrupts, “enough.”

“But Lucius –“

“No. I have told you before that this was inevitable. It is hardly my fault you never believed me.”

“You have been saying that since Draco's first year.”

“Yes. And my opinion has not changed since.”

“Father?” Draco asks tentatively.

Lucius actually rolls his eyes. “Ever since that first letter home Potter has been all you have ever talked about. 'Potter has made the Quidditch team.' 'Potter can talk to snakes.' 'Potter blew up a potions today.' 'Potter is such a prat.' 'Potter made a fool out of himself at the Yule Ball.' 'Potter keeps stalking me.' Really Draco, I resigned myself to this years ago.”

Draco just stares at his Father, visibly shocked. Narcissa looks as if she swallowed too many lemon drops at once. Lucius is looking at the both of them as if they are idiots.

Harry snorts. He simply can't help himself. He snorts and he chuckles and before long he is giggling uncontrollably. All this time worrying and fretting needlessly. Lucius had figured it out years before the two of them had. The seemingly biggest obstacle isn't even a threat.

“Potter,” Draco hisses, “stop it.”

Harry shakes his head and attempts to control himself. He is only moderately successful. “Sorry,” he gasps. He almost adds that Lucius had basically echoed what Hermione said, only about Harry, but thinks better of it. Just because the man is resigned to the fact doesn't mean he is happy about it.

“Not to worry Mr Potter,” Lucius answers, “It is not as if I have been expecting an elegant son-in-law.”

Harry grins. “Not to worry sir,” he echoes, “I'm not expecting much elegance either. I'm more of a treacle treat person myself.”

Beside him Draco groans. Narcissa looks pained. Lucius... well, the man looks unexpectedly amused. “Draco may have mentioned that as well when listing your sins,” he adds dryly.

Draco looks scandalized. Harry laughs. Oh Merlin is this going to be a night.