Draco eyed the pile of presents on the dining table.

"Are we giving to charity this year?" he asked, bemused.

Harry emerged from the kitchen, his hair tousled and wet from the shower. The pale blue sweater Draco had picked out fit him perfectly, and Draco privately congratulated himself on getting Harry out of the leather jacket.

It was no good letting him wear it everywhere; Draco just kept wanting to bend him over and fuck him in it.

"No," Harry said with a smile. "Those are for the Weasleys."

"Merlin," Draco breathed. "There are that many of them?"

"They just keep growing," Harry said, the smile stretching into an enormous grin.

"Right, well, if they're for your family, surely you have to wrap them, right?"

"Think again."

Draco huffed, but looked around for the wrapping paper. He'd found a truly atrocious set in a bargain bin at Flourish and Blotts, and he couldn't wait to show Harry. His eyes landed on the edge of a bright pink roll, tucked behind the Christmas tree, and he pounced.

"Behold," he said, dropping the roll on the table with the air of one producing an ace, "the most hideous wrapping paper you've ever laid eyes on."

Harry raised his eyebrows, taking in the magenta backing and the fifty hoola-hooping Santa Claus that he could see just from that small strip alone.

"Not bad," he admitted, nodding. "Not bad at all, but does it beat this?"

He dropped three rolls of matching wrapping paper on the table, and Draco gasped. Set on a background of what could only be described as vomit-yellow, the paper was covered in tiny creatures that oozed slowly around each other, leaving little trails of grime behind them.

"Are they—?" he asked, too horrified to finish the sentence.

"Flobberworms," Harry said proudly. "Wearing bells."

"You commissioned it," Draco insisted. "You must have."

"Nope. Found it out the back of Flourish and Blotts. Mildred hadn't put it out for sale because she thought it was too terrible to sell."

"That's cheating!"

Asking for help was definitely against the rules, Draco was sure of it. He'd have to write it down for next year.

Harry laughed and gestured to the paper. "Does it win?"

"It wins," Draco agreed reluctantly, sweeping his hula-hooping Santa Claus off the table and onto the floor, where losers belonged.

They divided the presents and soon there were shreds of paper flying everywhere as they wrapped and taped and stacked. Draco managed to sneak eighteen pieces of tape onto Harry's sweater, but then he realised Harry had somehow managed to wrap his belt buckle when he wasn't looking, and he was forced to insist on a draw.

Harry grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him into a kiss. "The trick is all in the levitation charm," he said easily, brushing their lips together and running his hands up through Draco's hair.

"We can't be late," Draco insisted, trying to step back but succeeding only in slipping his fingers beneath Harry's waistband.

"We won't be," Harry promised, unbuttoning Draco's shirt, slow and unhurried.

Then he raised his wand and ran it slowly along Draco's neck and down his chest, the want in his expression holding Draco captive. With a start, Draco realised there was something warm and wet on his chest, and he looked down just as Harry dropped his head and began to lick the chocolate away with slow, teasing kisses.

"Merlin," Draco breathed. "We don't have time."

"We have time," Harry insisted, dropping lower and gently laving a nipple. "I'm just going to suck you off. Won't take long."

He pushed Draco's shirt back from his shoulders and rose up to bite down gently on his neck. Draco shook his head and pushed Harry back, fighting for control of his breath.

"Absolutely not," he gasped. "I know you, Harry Potter: you're a fucking tease."

He dropped to his knees and reached for Harry's belt. Harry's head fell back and he moaned, grabbing hold of Draco's hair and thrusting gently forward.

He took Harry in his mouth, sucking gently as he looked up, taking in the way Harry's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, his lips parting as he moaned. He smirked and took him in deeper, relishing the feeling of strong hands gripping his hair, just before Harry began to thrust into his mouth.

He suddenly remembered what it was like this time last year, wrapping presents alone, drunk, and wishing stupidly that Harry was there with him. He pulled back and stood up, ignoring Harry's protest and spinning him around so that his hands were braced on the dining table.

Getting the message, Harry groaned and pushed back as Draco slicked his fingers with lube and slid them inside. Before long, he was panting and writhing, and Draco didn't waste time lining up his cock and thrusting inside, slow and hard. He gripped Harry's shirt beneath his hands and reached around, tugging at Harry's cock in the same rhythm as his steady thrusts.

He didn't know how many times they had done this now, exploring each other's bodies and finding new ways to bring each other pleasure. The sensation of those first few times—the disbelief, the addictive high—had eventually faded, but it had been replaced by something better. He knew Harry's body as well as he knew his own now, knew a hundred different ways to make him gasp and cry out in ecstasy, and every time he touched him, kissed him, held him, it felt like coming home.

Harry's fingers dug into the wood of the table and he pushed back into Draco, whimpering as his cock began to pulse, and then he was coming. Draco pushed up his shirt and trailed kisses down his back, thrusting slowly as Harry came down from his orgasm, and then he couldn't hold back any more. He gripped Harry's hips and pushed in faster, harder, until he was spilling over too.

He pulled away, leaning back against the table to catch his breath. Harry straightened up and spelled himself clean.

"All right," he said, shooting Draco a soft smile. "Let's get ready for the wedding."

"You arse," Draco breathed, and then he straightened himself up and followed Harry into their bedroom.

*

Draco counted down the Portkey, and then they were sucked through to a glittering foyer.

Harry looked around in surprise, and the two of them shared a glance. They knew that Morgan's family was taking care of the wedding, but they hadn't known to expect this level of grandeur. Draco wondered if they were even still in Britain anymore.

A tall man with eyes a strange, deep red appeared to take their coats, and they handed them over without a word. Then, they were ushered towards two enormous double doors and into the wedding hall.

The first thing Draco noticed was that it looked nothing like any hall he had seen before. The room was lined in golden panels and the earthy floor felt like moss beneath their feet. Delicate wooden chairs, half-filled with chattering guests, lined the space, and when they looked up he was reminded for a moment of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Except this enchanted ceiling didn't reflect the sky—it was as though the ceiling was a giant pool of water, and they were underneath it, looking up. The light from a hundred chandeliers glittered strangely, illuminating silvery fish as they darted behind the glass.

Harry reached for his hand and held it, staring around them with awe, and Draco quite forgot the view in place of his boyfriend's expression.

They heard a stifled sound of amazement and turned to see Ron and Hermione coming through the doors, an eager Rose tugging at her father's hand.

"Look!" Rose whispered, her voice carrying through the hall. "Fish! In the sky!"

Ron caught sight of them and beamed, and the three of them hurried over.

"We nearly didn't make it," Ron said in a rush, a little sheepish. "I couldn't find my robes."

"I can't believe you still only have one set of dress robes," Hermione muttered, fond exasperation on her face. She turned back to Harry and Draco. "It's good to see you both! It's been nearly a month, hasn't it? I'm so sorry. This little one has been sick, and we've all been a bit frantic, but we can't let it get so long between visits again."

Ron clapped Harry on the back before sweeping him into an impromptu hug. Harry's eyes widened in alarm, but he returned the hug with enthusiasm, and when they pulled back they were both grinning like schoolboys.

"It's good to see you," Ron said, the words warm and sincere. "You too, Draco."

Draco wasn't sure he'd ever forget the moment Ron Weasley had taken him aside one night, nearly six months ago, and hugged him. They hadn't needed words. Draco knew that Harry was smiling more lately, that Ron's owls were being returned with long letters in reply. He knew that they were seeing more of each other than they had in years, and the stilted conversation he had witnessed in the hospital so long ago had become a distant memory. He had tried to tell Ron that he hadn't done anything, but Ron had just told him to shut up and accept the gratitude, so he'd simply smiled and nodded. Maybe he did speak Gryffindor after all.

Rose led her parents off to see Molly and Arthur, leaving the two of them to take their seats. Harry nodded his head toward the best man, who was standing beside George in front of the alter.

"For a moment, I thought Fred was here," he said quietly.

Draco watched Kalen and George laughing and joking together, and he was filled with a quiet sense of sadness for everything they had lost along the way, all of them. George caught his eye and smiled, waving to both he and Harry, and they waved back.

Harry's leg was jiggling. Draco rested his hand on it, but he kept fidgeting even still.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be anxious," Draco said quietly. "Do you think she won't show?"

"No, she'll be here," Harry said. "It's just—"

His hands fluttered to his jacket pocket and then down again. Draco felt the slow rise of anticipation spreading like warmth through him.

"I was going to wait," Harry said slowly. "And I mean, it's probably bad form to do it at a wedding. But I thought... when are we going to get another shot at being—" he looked around, his eyes catching on the tiny vines that curled around the pillars in the center, covered in strange flowers Draco had never seen before, "—wherever this is," he finished.

Then, his eyes caught Draco's, and Draco forgot how to breathe.

"Draco, will you marry me?" Harry asked, his fingers brushing against something in his inside pocket. "I have a ring, but... I don't want to bring it out and have everyone hate me for proposing five minutes before the bride's big moment."

Draco felt the smile spreading across his face, slow and bright and impossible to contain. He reached slowly, deliberately to the inner pocket of his jacket, his fingers brushing against the tiny box hidden there. He watched as Harry's eyes followed the movement and widened.

"Only if you'll marry me," he said quietly.

Harry's face broke into a brilliant smile, and Draco leaned in to kiss him—a soft, chaste kiss that held the promise of many more.

Then, the wedding march began to play, and they turned around, pretending not to notice the tears in George's eyes and the steady grip of Kalen's hand on his shoulder. Draco felt Harry lean back into him, the steady rise and fall of his breath a soothing rhythm, as the doors opened and the hall was filled with light.