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“Wake up.”
“Blargh,” Draco groaned into his pillow without bothering to open his eyes.
“That’s not a word.”
He could feel Harry behind him, just as he could always feel Harry, no matter where he was. People like Harry, truly good people, gave off a specific kind of warmth, a warmth that you didn’t simply feel but hear, and see, and bask in. It was a warmth that smelled of cookies and mint tea, a golden warmth that hugged Draco even when they were on opposite ends of the house.
But Harry wasn’t on the opposite end of the house this time. Harry was radiating his warmth in the form of a morning snuggle, something Draco didn’t know if he would ever be able to come to grips with, no matter how often it happened (and it happened very often). Harry’s arm was, as usual, draped heavily over his waist, hot breath against his neck, coarse leg hair tickling against Draco’s thigh.
“Piss off,” Draco muttered, nevertheless shimmying closer against the slight press of Harry’s morning wood and lacing their fingers together.
“There, that was at least English,” Harry teased, dropping a string of gentle kisses along Draco’s jawline. “C’mon, let’s get up.”
“It’s my day off,” Draco reminded him in annoyance, which he thought was plenty reason enough to spend at least the foreseeable future in this toasty bed with this overheated man. “Come to think of it, it’s yours as well.”
Harry’s lips brushed against Draco’s ear. “Yeah, but I’m injured, and I need you to take a look.”
“You’re not injured.”
“I am,” he insisted, unhooking his fingers from Draco’s. “Look.”
Draco opened one eye and saw Harry holding out his pointer finger, upon which was a tiny scratch about half an inch long.
“Looks serious indeed. We may have to amputate at the neck,” Draco muttered dryly, closing his eye once again.
Harry snorted into his neck. “Healers don’t do amputations.”
“This one might.”
“Fix it,” he insisted. “Make it all better, Healer Malfoy.”
“Not today,” Draco answered, smiling to himself. “Today is a blissful and well-earned day off, which I had planned to ring in with a very late lie-in, I’ll have you know.”
“Fix my injury first?” Harry prodded, nuzzling into his neck. “Please?”
“You’re particularly irritating this morning,” Draco groaned. “Very well, pass me my wand.”
Harry obliged and Draco took it, holding Harry’s calloused hand steady in his own. He muttered a healing spell (one that Harry easily could have done himself, in fact. But Draco didn’t really mind indulging him; he loved healing his boyfriend.)
“All cured,” he informed Harry, handing his own wand back to him.
“Well. Actually… not quite.”
“If the next words out of your mouth are something about a bone that urgently requires attention, I’ll be forced to end this relationship.”
Harry laughed loudly against his shoulder and wedged his leg between both of Draco’s, nudging them even closer together in the cozy bed.
“This one is more of an internal injury,” he muttered, kissing Draco’s neck once more.
“Hmm?” Draco said, closing his eyes and letting Harry’s warmth soothe him. “And what kind of internal injury might that be?”
“Like… the kind where your boyfriend forgot your birthday?”
Draco froze, his eyes snapping open instantly, and he swiftly turned around to face Harry.
“Fuck!” he belted out, placing one hand over his mouth and the other on Harry’s cheek.
Harry was smiling, albeit a little bit sadly. “Yeah.”
“Oh no!” Draco moaned. “Your birthday was yesterday!”
“Mhmm,” Harry chuckled, rubbing his stubbly cheek up against Draco’s hand. “It was.”
“Lord, I did… I bloody forgot your birthday,” Draco groaned stupidly, moving his hands to cover both his eyes in shame.
“You did,” Harry replied.
Draco pulled his hands off of his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Harry’s penitently.
“I’m so sorry, darling.”
Harry weaved his fingers loosely through Draco’s hair and shrugged. “You’ve been busy.”
“Don’t make excuses for me, this is inexcusable,” he muttered, pulling Harry against his chest and hugging him close. “I’m so sorry.”
Harry sighed into his neck. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he argued, but he was desperate to make it so. “Shall we talk about it?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry finally agreed. “But there’s not a lot to talk about. I mean, I know it’s so petty and childish and not a big deal in the slightest, and it is what it is. But it honestly did hurt a bit…”
“Of course,” Draco whispered contritely. “You have every right to feel hurt.”
“Yeah. Like, all day I kept thinking, oh, he can’t have forgotten, he’s just pretending, and he’s probably going to do some stupid surprise party even though I didn’t want one, but…” Harry shrugged one shoulder and grinned at him half-heartedly. “Anyway, it’s so stupid. I dunno why it hurt; I really should be used to forgotten birthdays by this point.”
Harry was valiantly trying to smile, and Draco felt simultaneously so full of hatred towards the Dursleys and so guilty at the sight of those crestfallen green eyes that he nearly burst into tears.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he whispered once again. “I feel awful.”
Finally Harry chuckled and placed his thumb on Draco’s bottom lip. “Don’t feel awful. I know you’ve been working a lot. Like, even more than usual. And we barely had time to speak at breakfast yesterday, and then you got home so late… Honestly, Draco, I understand, and it’s fine. I know I’m being a child.”
“It’s not childish,” he said. “I made you feel unimportant on your birthday, and I am so very sorry, dearest.”
“I know,” Harry replied.
“I don’t want to make you feel that way any day, much less on your bloody birthday,” Draco continued, feeling utterly disgusted with himself. “God, if you’d forgotten my birthday, I would’ve spent no less than an hour stewing over it before eventually brandishing my wand at you in a blind rage.”
Harry kept smiling at Draco. “Well, I only stewed for a few minutes.”
“I’m going to make it up to you, sweetheart,” he decided. “Today. This is your do-over birthday. Today we do anything and everything you want to.”
Harry lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. “Anything?”
“Everything,” Draco said enthusiastically, buoyed up by the twinkle in Harry’s eye. “Starting with… breakfast in bed!”
He sat up and picked up his wand, his mind buzzing with ideas. “Bacon, toast, all of your favorites; I’ll even do up eggs if you wish, and I won’t say a word when you complain that they’re overcooked. I’ll just let you mock me mercilessly and take it in silence.”
Harry grinned up at him indulgently. “I love you.”
Draco leaned down and kissed him deeply. “I love you too. Happy birthday, my dear, sweet Harry.”
Harry hummed against his lips when he kissed him again, and he pulled Draco on top of his lap.
“First I have a bone that needs tending to,” Harry muttered, a smile in his voice. “And since I can do anything I want to today, you can’t even ditch me for saying so.”
Draco giggled against his lips and kissed him again. “You’re so—”
“Don’t say ridiculous,” Harry chuckled. “It’s my do-over birthday, and you’re not allowed to say anything but nice things to me today.”
“You’re so… cute?” Draco amended, rubbing his body against Harry and feeling him getting harder. “Handsome. Delicious. No morning breath whatsoever.”
“Piss off,” Harry laughed.
“And since it’s your birthday,” Draco murmured in his most sultry voice, “I’m going to suck you off.”
“Oh yeah?” The pure joy in Harry’s face reminded Draco that it had been far, far too long since he’d offered.
“Mmmm,” was his response. “Consider it a precursor to the mind-blowing birthday sex you’re going to get tonight.”
“A birthday blow job,” Harry sighed contentedly. “You have no idea how great that sounds.”
Draco smirked, shimmying down and tugging eagerly at Harry’s plaid boxer shorts. Before he could get any further, Harry took his hands.
“Wait, not yet,” he said, weaving their fingers together as Draco whimpered in protest. “First I want a grovelling speech.”
“Sod off and let me blow you, Potter,” Draco murmured, rolling his eyes.
Harry placed his finger over Draco’s mouth and smirked. “Only nice things, remember?”
Draco growled playfully under his breath and smirked right back at his boyfriend. Good god, no one had any right to be this handsome first thing in the morning.
“You’re going to milk this for all it’s worth, aren’t you?” Draco teased, nibbling at Harry’s finger.
“Just a nice little birthday speech telling me how much you adore me,” Harry answered, smiling teasingly. “That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“You are,” Draco sighed. “You’re going to milk it for all it’s worth.”
Harry laughed and pulled Draco back into his lap. “I’m ready when you are. And make it good.”
“Very well,” Draco sighed once more, resigned to his fate. “But you know how much I detest sentimentality.”
“I know, my love,” Harry murmured. “Go on, I’m waiting.”
“Hmm.” He settled against Harry’s warm, familiar chest. “To my dear, sweet, handsome and wonderful boyfriend Harry, the greatest of all wizards, who I never find annoying in any capacity whatsoever.”
“Nice,” Harry said, grinning.
“Darling Harry, on this, the occasion of your twenty-ninth birthday, which is today, the 31st of July, and not a single day later—”
Harry snorted and flicked the back of Draco’s neck.
“—I have decided to give you anything and everything you wish. But this is a selfish gift, my love, because giving you everything you wish is my greatest wish in life as well.”
Harry went still in his arms, and when Draco looked up into his eyes, he truly did see only his dear, sweet Harry looking back at him in the golden morning light. And suddenly, a grovelling speech seemed altogether too easy.
“Of course I adore you, Harry Potter,” Draco whispered, his hands shaking with the truth of it. “I’ve adored you since I was a foolish teenager.”
Harry squeezed his fingers and lifted them to his lips, kissing them one by one as Draco continued.
“I adore you, Harry, above all else. When you forgive me for mucking up horribly, I adore you. When you wake me up on my day off, I adore you. I even adore you when I don’t. For example, you’re completely awful at making the bed, yet you still do so, because you know I appreciate it. And lord, when you wipe your glasses with your shirt and create more smudges than there already were, ergh…”
“Oi,” Harry chastised him with a gentle smack to his bottom. “Nice things.”
“Oh yes, do forgive me,” Draco muttered, bowing his head in playful contrition. “Hmm. Just before you say you love me, I can tell you’re about to say it, and I adore that. Better?”
“Better,” Harry whispered.
Draco reached up and brushed his knuckles against Harry’s stubble. “You lick your fingers when you’re eating, so slowly that it becomes vaguely sexual, and I adore that. You always have your hands in your pockets, but you take them out when you see me approaching so you can hold my hand, and I adore that as well. You make me want to be horribly, disgustingly, embarrassingly sentimental for the sole purpose of seeing you happy, because I adore you. I adore you, Harry. And I will for the rest of our days.”
Harry merely stared back at him, tears making his emerald eyes shine brighter than ever.
“Can I blow you now?” Draco whispered, keeping the teasing smirk on his face in order to mask his vulnerability.
Rather than answer, Harry leaned forward and closed the distance between them, brushing their lips together in the gentlest of kisses. When he pulled away, he whispered, “I love you.”
Draco leaned back in and kissed him harder, giving himself over to the feeling and taste of Harry’s mouth. He kissed his way all over Harry’s face and down Harry’s chest, and there was the cookies-and-mint-tea warmth of him again, turning the air golden.