Wildest Dreams (A Drarry FanFiction)

Wildest Dreams

"He's so tall and handsome as hell,

He's so bad but he does it so well."

***

"And CUT!" the director hollered. Harry was grateful to let go of his co-star – the effervescent Ginevra Weasley – and step away from their passionate embrace. "Great job guys, great job," Lockhart cried as he came over, slapping his hands together and rubbing them enthusiastically. "Ginny, baby, you're blowing me away here."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure Gil," she drawled. "I'll be in my trailer." She winked at Harry and sashayed away, managing to look cool as a cucumber despite the heat of the African desert.

"Man," Lockhart whistled. "What a doll, huh?"

Harry gave a non-committal noise and looked around at the crew resetting the scene. "Are we done for the day?" he asked, not wanting to hope too hard. But Gil clapped him on the back.

"Sure Harry, you take off," he said grinning and already looking around as the next shot began to take shape. "It's all Gin for the rest of today – you might want to pop by and say hi later, I'm sure she'll need a back rub after such a long day."

Harry sighed. Most people knew better than to push him on to his co-stars. Lockhart tended to see what he wanted though, and if Harry's...preferences...were too much for him, then he could carry on in his fantasy.

"Whatever you say Gil," he said, shaking his head as the makeup girls descended upon him to scrape off all the gunk they'd layered on his face earlier in the day.

He was wiped, and was relieved to plough through the sand out to where his tend stood, away from the hubbub of the set and most of the other tents (or trailers as they still tended to call them. You could take the man out of Hollywood...)

His shirt was already half undone as he stepped inside, thinking about a nice cold beer maybe from the catering guys, when he realised his affairs were not as he'd left them.

"It's about bloody time," Draco Malfoy cried around the cigar between his teeth, standing from his seat by the small dining table and raising a saucer of champagne aloft. Red rose petals littered every surface from the rugs on the tarpaulin floor, to the writing desk and the table Draco was stood beside, to the king-sized bed he'd had flown in especially from the States. "Potter old chap, I was starting to fear you'd wilted in the heat."

Butterflies swirled inside Harry's chest like they always still did at the sight of his lover, even after all this time, but especially in light of such an unexpected and romantic visit. "Draco," he breathed, stepping carefully over to him, not wanting to crush any of the flowers under his sandy boots. "When did you – how – what-"

"Come now darling," he said in his daring British accent that left Harry weak at the knees. He stubbed out his cigar and handed Harry a fresh glass of champagne, seizing him around the waist. "Does a man need an excuse to fly across the world and spoil his beloved rotten?"

It had always been his way, ever since they'd met on the set of "Pure Blood and Pure Love," some eight years ago. Harry had been all wide-eyed innocence, his career just taking off. Draco though had seemed to know stardom was in his veins, and played the part of England's most coveted darling of the silver screen right from the start.

"You're up to something," Harry challenged, leaning back and arching his eyebrow.

Draco sighed dramatically. "You caught me," he said, and swept out his hand holding his drink to encompass the room. "Subtlety was never my strong suit."

Harry watched as he placed both their glasses down, and became uncharacteristically serious. He took a deep breath, his hands holding on to Harry's, his thumbs rubbing over the knuckles. "I have missed you terribly these past several weeks," he confessed. When not gallivanting across the globe, they shared their time between their mansion in Hollywood and their penthouse in London. Draco had written him several letters from Chelsea bemoaning his boredom and demanding half-heartedly that Harry should abandon shooting and come home immediately.

"I know," Harry said quietly, stepping closer together. "I've missed you too."

"Solitude has a habit of making one consider one's position in life, and how to better it," Draco said, his eyes focused on their entwined hands. "And it came to me it was about time I did the gentlemanly thing, and make an honest man out of you."

The words sunk into Harry's brain slower than they should have. "Whu-" he managed to utter...

...before Draco dropped down on one knee.

"Harry James Potter," he said, his voice wavering slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Will you do me the utmost honour of marrying me?"

Harry was pretty sure he'd just been hit by a Sherman tank. Marriage? Was that allowed, could they do that?

And in the split second it took him to think that he decided he didn't care a rat's ass. He was gonna marry the man of his dreams and he dared any schmuck on the planet to try and stop him.

"Are you kidding baby?" he drawled, giving him his million dollar smile. "There ain't enough yeses in the world to answer that question. Get up here and kiss me God damn it!"

Draco leapt to his feet and slung his arms around Harry's neck. "Do you really mean it?" He asked before pressing their lips together, excitement coming off him like lightning in a summer storm.

Harry held him close and tight, letting his joy flow right outta his skin. "Never," he told him, emotion making his words thick and tight. "In my wildest dreams did I think anyone could make me as happy as you do Draco Malfoy. I love you too much."

"You could never love me enough," Draco replied, his face wet with tears. "And I do declare we shall have forever together to prove that."

Harry nodded. "Forever," he agreed, then leant in to kiss him once more.

Fin

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