Angel on the cover

A/N: Finally another chapter. Please let me know what you thought :)
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Ron and he made their way through the dim lobby, Harry steering them away from the lifts and towards the steps.
“Safer,” he explained, leading the way to his flat. He rapped his knuckles on the door, which was quickly answered by Hermione.

“Hey,” she greeted, gathering Harry into a warm hug. Harry moved away so she could say hello to her husband.

He looked around the small space, not surprised to see it more empty than usual. His random scatterings of shoes, clothing, and newspapers were gone and the space looked less lived in than usual.

“You cleaned up,” Harry commented aloud, turning to look at Hermione. She was standing with her arms around Ron and they were speaking softly to each other. They didn’t move away, just adjusted their positions slightly so that there was a little more room between them.

‘Oh, how things change,’ he thought

He missed Draco.

“Draco wanted to,” Hermione told him, interrupting his melancholy train of thought.

“Where is he?” Ron asked curiously.

“He’s sleeping in the bedroom. So, everything’s okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Ron assured her. “Harry did his ‘Harry Potter thing’ and it was all ‘Don’t worry, Mr Harry Potter, sir. It was just a misunderstanding. We’ll fix everything, no problem,’” he gushed in imitation of the administrators.

“It’s uncanny how well he does that,” Harry said and laughed at Ron’s expression.

Hermione extracted herself from Ron’s hold. “The delivery guy should be here soon. Why don’t you wake up Draco? He needs to eat,” she instructed, pushing him towards the hall.

Harry made his way down the corridor and slowly turned the door knob, cautiously stepping into the bedroom to the loud crinkle of plastic. He held his breath, and when the figure on the bed made no move, he leaned down slowly to remove the plastic bag from beneath his foot. The red happy face looked back up at him and he placed it on the floor in a corner so he couldn’t step on it again. With a determined sigh, he made his way to his bed.

The artificial lighting of the street lights filtered into the room without obstruction now that his heavy black curtains had been removed. It seemed that all was right with the world with Draco lying in his bed, in his home. Harry drank in the sight of smooth locks of blond falling into his face, his slender waist, long lean legs in those jeans, the curve of his firm buttocks, and what seemed to be a Twinkie clutched tightly in his hand.

In fact, it seemed there were at least three other wrappers on the bed around Draco. Harry crept closer to remove the treat from the man’s hand; if he kept clutching it like that, it was liable to end up smeared across the bedcovers and himself.

He tried to gently release the fingers from around the Twinkie and almost succeeded when he heard an outraged “Mine!”

“Draco?” Harry asked, looking into half-cast silver-grey eyes.

The blond slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position and went to rub his hand across his face when he seemed to realise what he held. He dropped it into Harry’s palm and made his way out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Come in here, Potter,” Draco called a moment later.

Harry went to comply, unsure of why his assistance was needed. He peeked into the room to see Draco gathering his shaving cream, razor, and a towel and placing them on the edge of the sink.

“Sit down,” the blond ordered when Harry looked at him questioningly, “I’m going to shave you.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked, not daring to sit down just yet.

“I wasn’t joking when I said you looked like shite and I’m not going to have you escort me anywhere resembling some crazed homeless person.”

Harry rubbed his cheek sheepishly. “I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

“You look dreadful. Now shut up and sit down,” he ordered and indicated the seat with a razor.

Harry stepped back, a little wary of Draco and the sweeping motions the man made with the sharp object.

“Draco, are you sure you know what your doing? You’ve never had to shave in your life,” Harry asked tentatively.

“I’ve seen it done. Now sit down,” Draco ordered

“Why can’t we just use a depilatory charm?” Harry tried not to whine.

“Because I want to do it the Muggle way,” Draco told him while pushing against his chest until Harry’s calves met the porcelain surface of the toilet and he was forced to sit down.

The combination of Draco and the blade working anywhere around his throat made him a little nervous, especially since the blond was still upset with him.

Draco set the blade aside, much to his relief, and instead picked up the can of shaving cream. Pressing lightly on the nozzle, he began to massage a dollop between his hands before beginning to smooth it along Harry’s cheeks carefully.

Harry clenched his fingers on his knees when Draco once again picked up the razor and brought it to his face. The blond seemed to be concentrated on the task, making a smooth sweep across the stubble that covered Harry’s cheek, running the blade under the tap to remove the suds and hair before returning to his cheek. He did this a couple of times more before speaking again.

“I burned those horrible rags,” Draco informed him.

“They were perfectly fine Draco. They were comfortable. Do you know how long it took to get the trousers lived in?” Harry complained.

“Why did you keep those news clippings?” Draco asked instead without looking at Harry.

“What clippings?” Harry began before getting his head pushed back, exposing his throat.

“The ones you decorated your bloody room with, Potter.”

“Oh, those,” Harry acknowledged.

“I know why you did it, Potter. I just want to hear you admit it,” he said tersely, shaving a line up the man’s throat.

“Admit what?”

“That you’ve been playing this hero game for so long and that you love to play the bloody martyr.”

“What! I don’t!” Harry protested. He attempted to move forward but the increased pressure of the razor changed his mind.

“Why do you have to be like that, Harry? Haven’t you had enough? You probably put those things up to remind you every day of the war and to reinforce this cockamamie idea of abandoning me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” Draco assured him. “I know that you think it’s for my own good and all that rot but it was really stupid. You’re always looking for trouble.”

“I don’t look for it, Draco, it finds me. There could still be supporters out there, roaming in dark shadows waiting for their chance to strike. There are people we might have missed capturing.”

“There is no war on, Harry Potter. It’s over. Give me your word that you will not leave me again.” He poised the razor at the opposite side of his throat.

“It’s still dangerous—“ The razor’s pressure lightly increased. “I promise,” Harry said softly.

“Good. I deserve to be happy, and, Merlin only knows why, but I need you around to accomplish that.” Draco would have been amused at the pleased smile and flush that spread across Harry’s face if the colour hadn’t been rising on his own.

“You’re such a bloody hero, Potter,” he mocked to change the mood.

“I’m not—“

“You are,” Draco interrupted again. “Probably saved little girls from getting their pigtails pulled I bet. Saving people since you were in your nappy, you were,” Draco continued, washing off the razor for the last time.

“Not really. I was too busy getting my face shoved in the mud by Dudley and his goons.” Harry smiled at him.

“You’re not forgiven yet, Potter,” Draco told him, wiping his face with a moistened cloth. “There, I’m finished. Now feed me.”

Harry smiled up at the man who stood above him with his arms crossed and an expectant expression on his face. From his position, he was directly in front of the tiny swell that peeked over the top of his jeans and the bottom of his shirt.

The direction of his gaze was not lost on Draco and he smiled a little when he ordered again, “Hurry up, Potter. We’re getting hungry.”

X x x X x x X

To say he was intimidated would have been kind.

Frankly, he was overwhelmed with the amount of things going on around him. He tried not to notice the camera flashes and flashes of skin both male and female. Harry really had no idea what they were doing here. Draco had mentioned something about someone he needed to maim and Harry, too relieved that it wasn’t him, hadn’t bothered to ask.

He always thought that he and his friends were not gargoyles and that they were reasonably attractive, but it was interesting to see so many pretty people in one place.

‘Draco is still the most striking one of all them all,’ he though with pride.

“Where is he?”

“Who are you looking for?”

Harry started, not realising he had spoke the question aloud.

The person who answered his unintentional question was a red headed woman with an almost equally red painted mouth. Those scarlet lips stretched into a one sided smile that reminded Harry of a less appealing version of Draco’s sexy smirk as she waited for him to answer.

“No one really. Just waiting around,” Harry shrugged.

“Are you a new model?” the woman asked.

“Mer—God, no! I couldn’t do this.” Harry shook his head.

“Why not? You’re easy enough on the eyes,” she practically purred, eyeing him up and down.

“Thanks, but unlike my lover, I’m not made for this kind of stuff,” Harry replied, hoping the fact he was taken would give the woman a hint.

She moved closer instead and practically glued herself to his side, looking up with half lidded eyes and asked, “Is your lover as pretty as me?”

“Prettier,” Harry answered without hesitation and froze a little under the woman’s scowl.

“Keep your knickers on, you hag!”

Harry exhaled with relief at the sound of Draco’s voice.

“What are you doing back—weren’t you kidnapped by some hippie and taken to his camp?” the red head asked the blond, who was approaching with an older man.

“Lisette, it seems that no matter what they dress you up in,” Draco motioned to her clothes, “you can’t don class as easily, can you?”

“What?” Lisette asked icily.

“Listen, Potter here is my love slave, so be a dear and give freely of yourself elsewhere.”

The woman glared at Draco but turned swiftly on her heel and went away in an obvious huff.

“You jut got back. Do you really need to start fighting with her?” the man standing beside Draco asked.

Draco rubbed his temples before answering.

“She was salivating over off limit goods. I did her a favour. She was making a fool of herself,” Draco said without remorse. “Robert, this is Harry Potter. Potter, this is Robert, the man who had enough sense to offer me a job. I’ll be back,” Draco excused himself and moved towards the refreshment table.

Robert and Harry shook hands. “Thank you so much for helping him out,” Harry told the older man sincerely.

“No problem, although my last involvement in this situation brought unexpected consequences. I was the one who told your friend Hermione where he was,” Robert admitted.

“Oh, that was you? How bad was it?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Not too bad, though for one horrible second I lost my gonads. Literally, but he gave them back soon enough,” Robert said through a tight throat.

Harry’s eyes widened and he grimaced in sympathy. “He can be a little vengeful sometimes. I can’t even start to imagine what he’s going to do to me.”

“But you’re glad to be back? You do have a child on the way,” Robert asked.

“It means everything to be here with both of them,” Harry answered.

There must have been something in his tone that satisfied Robert because the man smiled and nodded. “Good. He needs you.”