Work Text:
Stepping Out on Love?
Draco Malfoy was spotted early Saturday evening looking cozy with none other than Ginerva Weasley, famously Harry Potter's ex-paramour. The pair were snuggled up in a small table at the back of The Three Sheets Restaurant & Pub, attempting to be inconspicuous as they whispered quietly together. What could this mean for Malfoy's relationship with the Savior of the Wizarding World? Could he possibly be cheating on the most famous wizard of our time? Turn to page 6 for more details.
Draco angrily tossed the paper down, smacking it against the kitchen island as it folded in on itself. He glared at it, then looked up with a huff at the amused chuckle across from him. Harry smirked, sipping his tea with a raised brow, and Draco twisted his lips to the side before reaching for his own.
“I don't understand why they're still writing this drivel.”
Harry snorted, “It's just ridiculous gossip, made to sound salacious so that they can sell more papers.”
Draco shook his head, “But we've been together for almost two years! We live together for Merlin's sake. What will it take for them to understand that I'm with you, and only you?” He scowled down at the offending Sunday edition of The Daily Prophet, “Do I need to take out an advertisement? Hold a press conference? Hire my own PR team?”
Harry laughed, “I don't think you need to do any of that. I'm sure it will die down eventually.”
He narrowed his eyes at the small, smug smile on Harry's face, “What are you going to do?”
Harry placed a hand to his chest as his eyes widened slightly, “Nothing!”
Draco frowned, “No, you have that look about you.”
“What look?” Harry asked with furrowed brows.
“The 'I'm about to do something brave or stupid' look.”
Harry chuckled and shook his head, “Maybe that's just my face.”
Draco watched him with narrowed eyes for a few more minutes, slowly sipping his tea as he calculated the probability that he'd end up being involved in whatever hair-brained scheme Harry had come up with this time, then glanced back down at the paper. He took a deep breath and picked it up, turning to page six against his better judgment to find out what other lies the media was currently propagating about him.
Harry smiled innocently as Draco studied him, his lips twisting into a smirk as Draco disappeared behind the pages of the Prophet. He was both nervous and excited to put his plan into action, and he couldn't wait for the next weekend.
The following week was the longest Harry had had in a while. He knew that Draco could tell something was going on, and he tried to channel his nervous energy into other things, but no matter how intensely he focused on work or how enthusiastic he was about the design options Draco presented for the remodeling of their flat, by Friday, Harry was practically vibrating out of his skin.
Draco had endeavoured to wait patiently for Harry's plot to come to fruition, quietly watching him as he attempted to mask his anxiety with overly eager suggestions for wall colours or décor, but when Harry suddenly couldn't make it to the shopping trip he'd had planned with Hermione for weeks, and asked him to go in his stead, he couldn't hold his tongue any longer.
“What are you doing?”
Harry looked up, “Making another cup of tea. Would you like one?” he asked, moving the kettle toward Draco's cup.
Draco frowned, shifting his hand to cover the mouth of his teacup, “That's not what I meant, and you know it.”
Harry blinked at him innocently, his head tilted slightly to the side, then placed the kettle on the table and reached for the tea tin. Draco watched him silently spoon the leaves into his steaming cup then stir slowly, clenching his jaw as he worked to not growl in frustration. When Harry continued, adding milk and sugar before taking a sip without making any move to respond, he lost the battle.
Harry glanced up at the sound, his brow furrowed, “Everything okay, love?”
Draco took a sharp breath, “I know you're planning something, or you've already done something. Tell me what it is.”
Harry smiled at him, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Draco huffed and switched tactics, “What's so important that you can't go help Granger with whatever she's doing tomorrow?”
Harry shook his head, “Just something at work. Don't worry, you won't have to be there long.”
Draco eyed him for a moment more, then sighed as he accepted that he wouldn't get any more information out of him. They spent the rest of the evening in charged silence, not exactly uncomfortable, but also not completely harmonious, as Draco continued to send Harry suspicious glances while they read near the fire. By the time they'd made it to bed, Draco had relaxed with the knowledge that whatever Harry had planned would be very unlikely to hurt him or their relationship, and he slid under the duvet with a sigh.
As they settled, Harry turned to face him, propping himself up on an elbow and cradling his head with his hand. “You know I love you, right?”
Draco looked at him with a frown, “I can sense a 'but' coming on.”
Harry smirked, “No 'but'. Maybe an arse or two.” he winked, then surged forward to place a forceful kiss on Draco's lips.
Draco made a surprised sound in his throat, then quickly wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, returning the kiss with fervor. Harry pulled back to extinguish the lights, smiling down at Draco hungrily as he whispered, “Nox,” then rolled to pin Draco to the mattress. Draco giggled as Harry peppered him with kisses, his knees parting easily to allow Harry to settle between them, and Harry spent the next hour showing Draco exactly how much he loved him.
Harry was gone when Draco woke Saturday morning, a brief note floating near his pillow explaining that he'd been called into the office early, but he'd made Draco breakfast and left it under a stasis charm. Draco smiled and stretched; he'd slept extremely soundly, all of the anxiety having been worked out of him the night before, and he decided that if that would be the result of Harry's recklessness, he was welcome to be as foolhardy as he liked. He pulled on his dressing gown with a satisfied sigh and padded into the kitchen, where a veritable feast awaited him. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the variety, wondering not only how Harry had had time to prepare everything before he left, but also just how hungry he thought Draco would be.
He smirked as he remembered the bedroom gymnastics they'd performed the night before and loaded up a plate with a bit of everything. He settled at the dining room table with his breakfast, eating leisurely as he poured over paint and fabric swatches until his attention was drawn by a light tapping on the window nearest him. He looked up, recognizing Pigwidgeon immediately, and rolled his eyes as he stood to allow the excitable owl entry.
“Hello, you ridiculous bird.” he said as he opened the window. Pig shot into the room immediately, swiftly circling the ceiling as Draco shook his head. “Are you going to come down and give me the letter, or do I need to immobilize you?”
The tiny owl darted down, thudding onto the table and rolling into a standing position before hopping around on the surface. Draco sighed and offered him a bit of toast, quickly untying the scroll from his leg as he stilled briefly, and managed to pull the missive free before Pig sprang back into the air and zipped through the still-open window.
Draco huffed and crossed the room to close it. “I guess there's no need to reply.”
He unrolled the parchment, nodding as he read the short, neat script directing him on where to meet and when, then quickly finished his breakfast before heading to the bedroom to dress for what he expected to be a rather long day.
“Aren't you concerned there will be a story about both of us cheating together in tomorrow's paper?” Draco asked, looking around the crowded high street of Diagon Alley.
Hermione snorted, “No.”
Draco looked at her with a raised brow, then smiled and shook his head. It had taken them a fair bit of time to get to the comfortability they'd reached with each other, mostly due to Draco's unwavering pratishness in their younger years, and though they'd managed to sort it all out in the end, there was still an edge of unease when they found themselves alone together. When Harry had asked him to meet her in his place, Draco had assumed that Ron would also be attending, so he'd been slightly taken aback when he found only Hermione waiting for him at the Three Broomsticks. She'd explained that the excursion was meant to be a hunt for Ron's upcoming surprise birthday party, and while she had an idea on what she wanted to get him, she had requested a bloke's opinion. Thankfully, this didn't require Draco to know Ron well, as it was more of a blanket 'if your significant other gave this to you, would you like it' kind of opinion, and less of a 'would Ron, specifically, enjoy this' instance.
Draco sighed, “Alright Granger, where to?”
Hermione tilted her head at him, “How many times must I ask you to call me Hermione?”
Draco shook his head, “Sorry, force of habit.”
She rolled her eyes, “Come on, Draco, we're headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies first.”
Draco's eyes lit up, and he happily followed her across the cobblestones.
“How many gifts does one person need?” Draco whinged as they exited their fifth shop in two hours.
Hermione had already purchased a broomstick servicing kit, a replica Chuddley Cannons Quidditch kit, and a book annotating the entire history of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, among other things. She laughed and rolled her eyes, “Not all of this is for Ron's birthday. Or even for him at all.”
Draco's jaw dropped as he looked at her, abruptly stopping in the middle of the pavement. “What?” Hermione glanced back at him with a slight crease between her brows. “You mean to tell me that you've been dragging me along under false pretenses?”
She rolled her eyes, “Not exactly.” Draco huffed and crossed his arms, and she sighed. “I thought it would be nice to get the male perspective on gifts for others, from someone other than Ron.” She led them toward a bench near the heart of the shopping center, “I love him, but some of his opinions are a bit...skewed.”
Draco snorted, recalling the bright orange scarf he'd received for Christmas only a few months ago, “That's an understatement.”
Hermione smiled, “Why don't we rest here for a moment, and then finish up? I've only a few more shops I'd like to visit.” She took a seat on the bench and looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “You can do a bit of shopping too, if you'd like my opinion on anything.”
Apprehension flitted briefly over Draco's face as he worried Ginny had told her what they'd been discussing the week before. He perched on the edge of the bench as he considered that it wouldn't be such a bad idea, to get a second opinion from someone so close to Harry, and he took a deep breath as he settled more securely onto the furniture.
“Actually, Hermione, there may be something you can help me with.”
Draco asked vague questions, skirting around the issue on the off chance that Ginny hadn't spilled his secrets in an attempt to keep his plans close to the vest. As he glanced around the busy shopping district, attempting to find the best wording for his next question, he noticed someone suspiciously glancing toward them from around the corner of Ollivander's. He narrowed his eyes as he recognized the bane of his current existence, a prolific reporter for The Prophet. He huffed, knowing there would no doubt be some conjured story about he and Hermione in the next day's paper, and turned back to inform her of such when a flash of red hair caught his eye.
“What is-” he broke off as the man turned, revealing that he'd noticed George Weasley, not Ron as he'd first assumed. “Oh.”
“What's the matter?” Hermione asked, turning to follow his gaze.
Draco shook his head, “For a moment, I thought I saw Weasley.” Hermione turned back to him with a frown. “Erm, Ron. But it's his brother.”
Hermione nodded, “Of course it's George. He has a shop here, after all.”
“Right.” Draco shook his head and glanced back down the alley, but the reporter was no longer there. He swept his gaze over all of the patrons milling about, searching with keen eyes, and gasped as his gaze landed on another familiar face. “Blaise?”
Blaise Zabini was walking along the cobblestones with his head bent, wearing nondescript robes that Draco never would have imagined he'd willingly wear. They hadn't seen each other since the end of the war, when the Zabinis had fled to Italy, but had kept in touch via post and had planned to finally meet up again in the coming months.
Draco stood, taking a step toward him, and frowned as Blaise turned a corner and moved out of sight. Surely, he'd seen Draco?
Hermione stood with him, “Is everything alright?”
He shook his head again, wondering if he'd possibly been confounded. Certainly, if Blaise was back in the country, he would have told Draco to expect him. He would have at least dropped a few hints in his last letter, wouldn't he? Draco huffed, “Yes, I think so. Are you ready to finish this shopping trip, then?”
Hermione looked around shiftily, “Oh, um, maybe a few more minutes rest?”
Draco furrowed his brows but followed her lead as she lowered herself back onto the bench. He glanced once more at the corner Blaise had turned down, then cast his eyes listlessly around the crowd. “Is that-” he narrowed his eyes, “Finnigan and Thomas?” he asked, squinting.
Hermione turned her head to the left, “Oh, I suppose it is. They must be shopping for Ron's birthday as well!”
Draco eyed their suspiciously similar robes, noting that they also resembled the robes he'd seen Blaise in just a moment ago. He frowned and flicked his eyes quickly around the other shoppers, realizing that quite a few of them wore the same odd, tan robes. “And, Longbottom and Bones?” Draco said, recognizing the couple as they exited Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.
“Could be.”
Draco turned suspicious eyes to her, noting that Luna and Rolf were slowly traveling up the cobblestones from the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, both wearing tan robes. “What is going on?”
Hermione shrugged, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly as she attempted to keep a smile off her face. “What do you mean?”
Draco took a deep breath and waved toward the packed alley, “Why are there so many familiar faces all of a sudden?”
Hermione tilted her head then glanced out into the crowd. She smiled as a large number of tan-robe-wearing bodies trickled toward them, amassing in a loose group directly in front of their position. “I think you're about to have your question answered.” she said with a smirk.
Draco, who'd been watching her intensely, glanced to the side and back before turning his head sharply as his mind made sense of what he had caught a glimpse of. Standing before them were dozens of familiar faces, all in the same attire, and the other shoppers had cleared the area, leaving a large open space around them. His surprised stare bounced from one face to another, gasping as he found Pansy, Millicent, and Blaise all standing next to one another, and he narrowed his eyes as his gaze landed on Ginny and Ron.
Before he could do much more than stand again, the unmistakable beginning notes of “Crazy In Love” blasted through the alley, and the group shifted to stand in perfectly straight lines.
“What-?” Draco said, quickly shifting his gaze around as he realized that a majority of the mob was made up of former classmates. His eyes widened as the group began a choreographed dance to the upbeat song, and he flicked his eyes between the smiling crowd and Hermione's pleased face. “What is happening?” he asked again.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Just watch.”
Draco stood silently, watching in fascination as the group perfectly executed various moves, licking his lips nervously as the spectacle drew quite a crowd of onlookers, including the Prophet reporter that had caught his eye previously. His cheeks heated as the melody faded into “Shut Up and Dance,” one of his guilty pleasure songs, and he laughed in delight as the mob threw their robes off in unison to reveal glittering formal attire in shades of silver, and the song morphed into “Can't Stop the Feeling.”
The group expanded and retracted, smiling and winking at him as they circled each other, and Draco stood gob smacked as he realized that not only did the mob include prior schoolmates, but also far newer friends that he and Harry had made after entering the workforce. He furrowed his brows as he caught sight of Harry's Auror partner, who he'd assumed had also been called into the office that morning, and as the song shifted one last time, Draco gasped.
“Wait.” he said quietly, watching with wide eyes as the mob form a tight circle in the center of the street.
The soft melody of “Marry You” caused a shiver up Draco's spine, and he swallowed heavily as Ginny ran up to him and took his hand. She smirked at him as she pulled him into the street, and the mob slowly parted to reveal Harry, dressed in a stylish tuxedo, on one knee in the center. Tears sprung to Draco's eyes as Harry grinned widely, lifting his hand to flip open the small box he hadn't noticed Harry holding.
The mob dissipated, moving to stand along the shop faces and watch as Harry murmured words only Draco could hear. The pavement was packed with people dressed in shimmering formal wear, day robes, Muggle street clothes, and the occasional dingy grey robes of a Prophet reporter, while Harry and Draco stood alone in the center, smiling at each other as camera bulbs flashed. A deafening cheer rose from the crowd as Draco nodded, holding out a shaking hand so that Harry could slip the platinum band onto his left ring finger. The cheering turned into hoots and hollers as Harry rose and gathered Draco into a searing kiss, then laughter as he spun them away.
Draco gasped as they landed in the gardens of Hampstead Heath, looking around in awe at the hundreds of floating candles that surrounded them. Harry pecked him quickly on the lips, then took his hand and led him toward the table set for two in the center.
As they settled into their chairs, Draco shook his head in disbelief, finally finding his voice. “How long?”
Harry lifted his brows as he popped the cork on the chilled champagne that sat in the middle of the table. “How long what?” he asked as he poured them both a glass.
Draco huffed a laugh, “How long have you been planning that?” Harry gave him a secret smile and sipped his beverage. “It must have taken months to get everyone together, and for them to learn all of the choreography.”
Harry nodded, “It did.”
Draco chuckled and shook his head, looking down at the table briefly before picking up his own glass. “I can't believe you managed to keep it a secret from me for so long. That all of them managed to keep it a secret.”
Harry smirked, “I had a bit of help with that last part.”
Draco tilted his head, “What do you mean?”
He smiled, “I swore them to secrecy.”
Draco's jaw dropped, “You forced them all to make an unbreakable vow?”
Harry laughed, “Not exactly.” Draco eyed him over the rim of his champagne flute, and Harry rolled his eyes, “I may have employed a Fidelius charm in an inventive way.”
Draco laughed, setting his champagne on the table, “I didn't know it could be used like that.”
Harry shrugged, “Neither did I.”
Draco shook his head, smiling at his new fiancé as he fiddled with the ring on his finger, and Harry grinned back at him. “You know, I was planning to propose soon.” he said softly.
Harry smirked, “I know.”
Draco straightened up, “What do you mean, you know? How did you find out? I haven't left any clues around or told anyone.” he frowned, “Except...did the weaselette tell you?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
Harry threw his head back with a laugh, “Yes, but before you get angry with her,” he said, holding a hand up placatingly, “Just know that she only told me after I'd invited her into the flash mob.”
Draco twisted his lips and harrumphed, sitting back against his chair and crossing his arms. Harry smiled softly at him and stretched his hand across the table, wiggling his finger when Draco didn't immediately return the gesture. Draco huffed but uncrossed his arms, sliding his palm into Harry's. Harry grinned down at the platinum band as it caught the candlelight, shifting his wrist to watch the flames bounce off the brilliant metal, and Draco's gaze softened.
“I guess now I don't have to make some sort of grand announcement, hm?”
Harry chuckled, “Let's hope not.” He lifted Draco's hand to his mouth, brushing the knuckles softly with his lips. He raised his eyes to stare deeply into Draco's, confirming that the months of hard work and embarrassing public spectacle had been worth the effort, based solely on the unadulterated love shining back at him. He couldn't wait to marry Draco Malfoy.