Chapter 10

Love without conversation is impossible. - Mortimer Adler

Draco stood in Harry's large ceramic tiled shower, allowing the water to cascade down his body in pleasure. It felt good to get the sweat and such—Harry's cum—off of him. He almost giggled at that thought. Merlin, he and Harry Potter had just had sex. Good sex. Amazing sex. Fucking fantastically amazing sex. He let his head fall back and relived the pleasure.

It had been insanely intense, each moment, each movement. When he'd entered Harry, he'd felt a sense of peace and belonging that he'd never imagined before. And oh, Salazar, when Harry had caressed his head after, his world tilted. Not that he could say such a thing aloud; but here, in his head, he could think it.

He heard Harry enter the bathroom, and leaned his head back to rinse the remaining soap. He'd used Harry's Muggle shampoo, and of course, the man had no conditioner. His hair would likely be unmanageable after, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He turned off the water, and Harry handed him a towel around the curtain.

"Feel better?" Harry asked cheerfully. "I brought up some sandwiches and crisps. I hope that's all right. I had planned on making a nice dinner tonight, but…"

"Sandwiches and crisps are fine, Harry." Draco stepped out of the shower and stopped at the sight of Harry, still completely nude and leaning against the bathroom door. The man looked entirely too cocky and sure of himself, but Draco found it hard to hold it against him. He supposed he deserved it.

Harry smirked. "Like what you see, Malfoy? Come on, I set it up by the fire."

Draco raised an eyebrow and didn't budge. "You may be fine walking around so inappropriately attired, Potter, but I chill easily. Do you have a dressing gown I might borrow?"

Harry laughed, then left the room, returning several moments later with two dressing gowns. Tossing one to Draco, he draped the other around his own frame and slid his arms through. "There. Better? Now come on, I'm starving."

They sat at a small table near the fire Harry must have started in the hearth while Draco was in the shower. It was cosy and pleasant, and Draco relaxed as he sipped his tea and took the occasional bite of sandwich. "What's the story with the furniture? It seems so out of place."

Harry followed Draco's gaze to the matching bedroom suite; bed, bureau and dressing table all made of heavy dark wood with carved snakes and scowling faces. He shrugged. "It works well enough. You're a Black by blood, so I assume you know they weren't the most, er, light of families."

Draco snorted at that and was pleased the sound made Harry smile.

"Anyway, after the war, I started refurbishing the place. I've mostly redone the rooms— ripping out the walls and replacing them, refinishing the floors and so on—but some of the furnishings seemed in good condition and were kind of pointless to replace just because I didn't care for the way they looked. I thought they might scare Teddy and was ready to pitch them as he got older, but he's so used to them that they don't seem to phase him."

Draco finished his sandwich as Harry spoke and watched the firelight flicker across the glasses he'd donned during Draco's shower. He'd gotten used to seeing him without them—contact lenses, he'd said he wore now—and seeing him in glasses almost seemed strange. They made him look more like the boy he remembered, but instead of that turning Draco's attention to the past, it just reminded him of how far they'd come.

He put down his tea and took Harry's hand, pulling him up to stand in front of him. "Are you ready for another round?" he asked softly, running his finger along Harry's jawline. Harry tilted his head and Draco opened his palm, cupping the man's face.

"Most definitely."

This time, everything was slower, less rushed. Both men seemed determined to memorise each moment as it happened, and when this time Harry came inside of Draco, Draco was sure he'd lose consciousness in pleasure.

"Fireworks," he muttered as he collapsed on the bed afterwards, then clapped his mouth shut in embarrassment.

Harry rolled off of him, then glanced to the side where Draco laid, looking as though he were about to fall asleep. "Huh? Fireworks?" Then he smiled. "Oh yeah. Most definitely. Fireworks." He yawned. "See? I told you we were just building up to them. I need to sleep for a bit, but stay with me, 'kay?"

And with that, Harry began to snore. Draco laughed quietly, then pulled the eiderdown up over them both and snuggled into the pillow next to Harry.

Harry woke to thrashing and whimpers. It took him only a moment to fully awaken and assess the situation. Draco lay next to him, caught in the throes of a nightmare. He sounded like a wounded animal and lay curled in a ball, flinching and throwing his arms over his head as if to prevent an attack.

Harry waited, trying to decide the best course of action. Draco's wand was on the table near the fireplace, so Harry wasn't afraid that he'd be hit with a spell on waking. However, he knew that he sometimes had a tendency towards violence when he first awoke from his own nightmares—thankfully, he rarely seemed to have them when Teddy stayed over, most likely because he didn't sleep as soundly with the boy next to him.

As tears began to pour down Draco's face, Harry decided to act. He reached out quietly and touched the man's arm, tense and ready to move out of the way if he woke up swinging. Instead, Draco flinched away from him and moaned in pain.

"Draco, wake up. It's Harry. You're dreaming," Harry tried again, this time shaking him slightly more. This time the man's sobs turned to screams, and he started to shake. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Draco, wake up!" When Draco's tremors began to resemble full convulsions, Harry grabbed him and wrapped his arms around his chest, gently cradling his upper body. Unsure what else to do, he talked quietly and began to rock gently.

Slowly, Draco's body began to relax and he slowly calmed, then began to awaken. Though the tears had begun to dry, Draco's nose was fully clogged, and his voice was hoarse from the screams. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder, then opened his eyes, exhausted.

"Fuck. Oh, Circe, I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry." He tried to pull away, but Harry just held him close.

"I'll let you go if it'll help, but if it won't, please let me hold you. You really scared me, and I need a moment."

Draco avoided his eyes but nodded. "Can you at least get me a handkerchief? I feel like an arse."

Harry shushed him and summoned the cloth, then handed it to Draco. "What was that? Are you ill?"

Draco barked out a harsh laugh. "Mental, more like it. I call it The Nightmare. It usually lasts ages and I can't pull myself out of it. I've had it ever since—" He paused, then met Harry's eyes. "Well, ever since. Anyway, I'm surprised you could wake me. No one has before. They've tried, but I usually have to suffer through it. I haven't had one in months, really, so I should have expected one to come on at the worst possible time," he said with a scowl.

Harry gently rubbed his hand over Draco's back. "Well, if I was able to wake you and no one else has, then maybe it was the best possible time, yeah?"

Draco gave him a weak smile, still looking embarrassed and refusing to meet Harry's eyes.

Harry watched him with understanding. "Draco," he said quietly. "I have my own nightmares that I'm sure you'll experience if we have any more sleepovers. And I want to have more sleepovers, believe me." He finally caught Draco's eye and gave him a look, daring him to contradict that. "I only caution you that if you wake me from one, make sure my wand is out of the way, and stand back. I tend to wake up from them swinging. I broke Ron's nose once."

Draco chuckled lightly—the idea of Ron with a broken nose seeming to cheer him, as Harry had hoped it would—then pulled away. "I really am sorry. But… thank you. I should probably go home." He started to get up, but Harry caught his arm and pulled him back into the bed.

"Stay. Please. I want to make you breakfast tomorrow."

Draco gave him a larger smile and seemed to consider. "Fine, but it had better include bacon, Potter."

Harry grinned, then lay back and tugged Draco down with him, snuggling into the man's side. He gave a large yawn. "I can do bacon. Now go back to sleep. You need your energy if I'm going to take advantage of you in the morning."

Draco sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. "You monster."

Draco woke the next morning, disoriented. Slowly remembering where he was and why, he reached next to him, expecting to find Harry and instead finding a cooling bed. He could still feel remnants of Harry's heat, then realised the sound of the shower could be heard from the adjoining bathroom.

Sighing contentedly—and not worrying about what he looked like since he was obviously alone—he allowed a stupid grin to cross his face. He grabbed Harry's pillow and tucked it into his arms, then fell back to sleep.

When he awoke some time later, the bathroom door was ajar and Harry was clearly no longer in the room. Remembering Harry's promise of breakfast, Draco got up and found a pair of joggers and one of Harry's t-shirts laying across the chaisse at the end of the bed. He dressed quickly, made a quick trip to the loo, stopping to cast a quick teeth-cleansing spell, then left to find Harry.

Descending the stairs, he could hear noises coming from the kitchen and the scent of bacon was escaping the closed door. He stopped as the sound of clanking pans gave way to a sweet baritone voice.

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right(1)

Draco was stunned at the clarity and beauty of Harry's singing voice. Teddy had warned him that Harry had a nice voice, but somehow, Draco had been unprepared. What was it Teddy had told him? 'Uncle Harry only likes to sing when he's happy.'

He's happy, was all Draco could think. I made him happy. The thrill of that thought, the realisation that this was truly happening, that they were making each other happy, that they were good together—at least so far—made him want to dance.

He didn't dance, of course, as such a thing would be inappropriate for a Malfoy, but if there was ever a time he didn't give a damn about what a Malfoy did, it was now. Harry was still singing, but it was more of a hum as Draco pushed the door open to find the man finishing what appeared to be enough food to feed the entire Weasley clan. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a Gryffindor t-shirt, his feet bare. The shirt stretched across his shoulders, accentuating the man's muscles, and Draco's mouth watered.

Harry glanced up and, seeing Draco's expression, laughed. "G'morning, Draco. I believe you requested bacon?" He gave Draco a ridiculously cheeky grin, reminding Draco of Teddy when he got into something naughty.

Draco cleared his throat and tried to pull himself together. Harry was just throwing him off completely, and he needed to regain his composure. He straightened his back formally, and crossed the room to sit at the table, where Harry had two place settings ready.

He crossed his legs as formally as he could, given that he was wearing joggers, and crossed his fingers, waiting expectantly. "Good morning, Harry. Thank you for cooking."

Harry just stared, then burst out laughing again. "Sure, no problem. There's the bacon, of course, but I also scrambled some eggs and fried up some mushrooms and tomatoes. Toast will be done in a moment. Was tea fine, or would you prefer something else?"

Still feeling slightly overwhelmed, Draco just shook his head. "I think this is fine, thank you."

Harry sat down in his own seat shortly after, placing the toast onto the table between them, and they began to eat in silence. Draco wanted to kick himself, as he knew the sudden awkwardness was his own doing. Finally, he sighed.

"Thank you. Sorry, I'm just feeling a little strange about everything. This" —he gestured between them— "feels a little surreal, doesn't it?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, it does. But it's good, right?"

Draco nodded. "Definitely good. About my nightmare, Harry. I'm—"

Harry cut him off. "If you are about to apologise for that again, you're going to piss me off, so just stop right there." Draco watched him take a bite and chew, and didn't say anything. Harry continued. "We have spent the last three months getting over this kind of awkwardness. You insisted we talk about the hard stuff so that we'd know, so we'd understand each other. I understand, Draco. There's no need for apologies."

Draco nodded and took a sip of his tea. He gave Harry a little smile, starting to finally relax. "I heard you singing. You're really good."

Harry blushed slightly. "Not really. I usually don't do it in front of anyone. I hope it didn't bother you."

Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's wrist. "I liked it. A lot. You sounded happy."

Harry met Draco's eye. "I am."

They watched each other closely, barely speaking as they ate. When they finished, Draco flicked his wand and sent the dishes to be washed in the sink, then stood and walked to where Harry sat. Pulling Harry's chair out slightly, he swung one leg over and sat across Harry's lap, looking down into his face.

"Me, too, Potter."

Harry raised his eyebrows in question. "Huh?"

"I'm happy, too." Draco pushed a lock of Harry's hair behind his ear, then took off his glasses and set them on the table behind him. "So where do we go from here?"

Harry chuckled. "I think I know where you're going right now."

Draco smirked. "Perhaps. But what then? How do we do this?"

Harry reached up and took Draco's hand into his. "Together. We do this together. We go out together, we have fun together, we have arguments together, we have nightmares together, and thank Merlin, we have sex together. Really, really good sex together."

"Fucking fantastic sex." Draco canted his hips forward slightly, eliciting a low groan from the man beneath him.

"Exactly," Harry managed to get out, though his voice was a bit lower than usual. "And when things come along that changes things up, we work with it, just…"

"Together."

"Together." Harry reached up and pulled Draco's mouth to his. After a long, gentle kiss, he sat back and his emerald green eyes felt as though they drilled into Draco's soul. "Does that work for you?"

"So we live our lives like normal? Just, together." He leaned forwards and hovered over Harry's lips, prepared to dive back in, but hesitated. "Yes, that works for me. It sounds extraordinary."

Harry smiled, and his entire face was lit up. Draco felt the pleasure of eliciting that smile radiate through him. It was simple, and easy, and it was life-changing. And it was good.

The End of The Beginning

A/N: Wait, what? That's it? That's the end? No, sillies, that's not the end. It's just the beginning of their lives together. And since that's the really fun stuff, in my opinion, that's actually where this series started. So lucky you, there are already (as of the date of this story's completion) twelve sequels! Most are one-shots, some are longer, and I'm adding more stories regularly.

In fact, as a special surprise, I am publishing an additional story to the series today! It takes place about two weeks after the chapter above and is practically an epilogue. So, if you're ready for more, click onto my Author Profile where you'll find the entire series of That's Life Together listed chronologically, and enjoy Polite Conversation, the new addition and next story in the series. Thanks for reading!

(1) Song Lyric info - Songwriters: George Harrison Here Comes The Sun (Acoustic) lyrics © Sm Publishing (Poland) Sp. Z O.o., Harrisongs Ltd