Drarry One-shots 1

discontinued fluff dump*

* with a promise of plot that never resolves and way too little sense to actually be important but it was in my drafts and I'm sorting out my published stuff here so here you go, enjoy this last of the last in this collection

The day was warm and the sky was cloudless, the scent of already drank coffee was still lingering in the air, Harry could see the glinting, golden sunlight reflecting off of leaves if he turned towards the window and the sound of cheerful humming mixing with faint birdsongs and the clattering of a teaspoon against a mug, was all he needed to fill him with pure comfort. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon.

Well, almost.

There was a mess of papers and half read files, along with crumpled up notes and black and white pictures all over the floor where he was sitting. He was stuck with this case he and Ron have been working on for the past three weeks. It first it seemed like the easiest thing in the world - the clues were popping up so quickly they barely managed to fit the previous one into the bigger picture when new evidence was brought to light, they had stable leads towards the possible suspects and with the work of their college and a surprising amount of cooperation from other departments, they didn't doubt this case is going to be put onto the list of their achievements in no time.

But now, ten days after the interrogation of their main suspect they seemed to be stuck at square one. The interrogation was such a boring affair that all of them were certain it would last hours before they would actually get something useful from it but then in a sentence and a half, they were kicked out of their rhythm and everything crumbled down into useless junk. Harry stared at the reports he'd been reading for the past hour without much progress, his eyes skimming the words but not really processing them.

He was tired of the same old story he'd read a thousand times but even Ron agreed with Robards - they needed to take a break and then look at the bigger picture all over again so they could notice the details they missed before. 

That was precisely what Harry did - he took a three-day break from everything even remotely related to work. He spent them in a rather pleasurable way - with his fiancé in their enormous bed doing everything but sleeping with occasional bathroom and take-out eating breaks just to gain back some energy they'd so blissfully used.

And now it was Sunday and he'd woken up this morning with a tangle of white blonde hair on his chest, soft puffs of Draco's breath tingling against his skin.  He dozed off until Draco finally woke up around ten and he opened his eyes to a blushing, gentle kiss.

They joined forces to cook lunch together and bickered in a casual, relaxed way as they did so and after lunch, he made himself a cup of strong coffee and decided to finally tackle the problem. He took out his files out of a bag he'd carried them home in and spread them all over their living room as he always did when he couldn't quite solve the problem in front of him. 

For the majority of the afternoon, Draco was reading in his armchair on Harry's right giving occasional comments when Harry started thinking out loud. They were semi-helpful but they certainly made Harry's frustration ease if only for a little bit. 

It was kind of annoying that Draco managed to finish his book before Harry managed to find his 'new perspective' on the case but maybe it was a good thing since soon-to-be-Potter was currently in the kitchen making them some tea because as he always said: "There's nothing that can't be solved with a bit of Earl Grey."

If they were honest, they would both admit that their tea drinking habits are far from normal and that over seven cups a day was hardly healthy. Especially in Harry's case who also added at least three cups of coffee to the whole mix. But it was tea and they could only hope that it could solve all of their problems.

They didn't have that many problems, though. After the war it was rough. But now, almost fifteen years later, six years since their whole relationship was heavily blown up for journalism purposes, everything was in a sort of hazy state of peace and nobody seemed to mind it very much.

Of course, the peace was only relative, a thing that only the general public believe since there were still people like the ones Harry was currently trying to catch who organized detailed, planned series of murders and immensely enjoyed taunting the DMLE. Harry sighed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. 

He leaned back against the couch as he was sitting in the bottom of it and tried to piece the puzzle together in a different way from before. He failed. The only thing he pieced together was a headache that was slowly blooming in his temples. 

He almost didn't notice the slight shift of footsteps against their wooden floors but even if he did, there was no way he would miss a pair of Gryffindor joggings Draco was wearing which appeared right in front of his nose. There was also an extended hand with a steaming mug just for him and he looked up at the blond with a weary grin. "Is it spiced?"

"Of course!", Draco said and then scoffed moving to sit down next to him. "Who do you take me for?"

"Love of my life who cares about my liver," Harry murmured and Draco snorted, leaning against him. 

"I doubt a bit of rum will ruin your beautiful organs, Harry."

"That's all you put in here?"

"And some sugar", Draco shrugged, placing a gentle kiss to the soft skin of Harry's shoulder. Harry shivered but leaned into him, craving the comfort taken away by work. "Way too much sugar to exact."

"You're my hero," Harry mumbled and turned Draco's head towards him, kissing him chastely, again, and once more, and just one more time, okay two times. Small kisses in quick succession, leaving them feeling light and loved, easy. 

"Mmm, I'm sure I am."

"Am I your hero too?"

"If you were my hero we would be sprawled on the floor with clothes laying around instead of files."

"We've been in bed for three days, Draco."

"Yeah so? What's one more? This way you're not my hero - more like a pain in my ass.", Draco scoffed with humour lacing his every word.

"Yeah, mhm, you wish," Harry snorted, kissing him again. He took a sip of his tea and then put it on the coffee table to properly tackle the love of his life. The kisses grew in intensity, in hunger, more demanding than before and interupted by moands and grunts of please as Harrry pulled Draco's shirt over his head. His lips found the pale pillar of his neck speckled with previous marks of his affections and began renewing the love bites that barely started to fade.

"How's that for hero now?", Harry muttered, a soft vibration of words against Draco's skin.

"If you're not naked in the next minute I'm leaving and taking care of myself on my own this marriage be damned."

"We're not married, babe."

"We've been married for three years at least. Just because it took you an eternity to propose doesn't mean I didn't put up with your domestic crap before it."

"You love my domestic crap," Harry reminded him with a smirk and moved to kiss his lips again. Draco's fingers burried themselves in the mess of Harry's curls and pulled him closer until he was safely settled on top of him, and he could wrap his legs around Harry's waist.

"Yeah, I do love it." Draco admitted, almost begrudgingly but them smiled, all soft and loving, and mushy in a way that would make their friends shoot stinging hex in their general direction. "And I love you too."

"I love you too, Draco."

"Good. Now kiss me and get those pants off before I hex your junk off."

"You would miss my junk. Don't pretend you wouldn't."

"I think I would survive."

"Mhm sure, babe, whatever you say."