"Brilliant job, Potter!" Eckelson exclaimed excitedly, absent-mindedly trying and failing to wipe ash off from below his eye.

"Thought you'd kicked it for sure," Seamus added seriously, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "And I thought: Death by dragon fire—is there any other way to go for flaming poofs like us?"

Harry snorted. "I think you're more deserving of the dragon fire than me, mate."

Eckelson laughed. "Got you there, Finnegan."

Seamus shrugged.

"Actually," Harry said, grinning and checking his watch, "speaking of, I best be off."

Seamus raised his eyebrows. "Harry, he'll actually hex your balls off."

Harry smirked. "He absolutely will not."

"You're a braver man than I am, Potter," Eckleson said, wiping his hands once more off on his robes before nodding at them both and leaving.

"It's not very difficult to be more sexually adventurous than Eckelson," Seamus acknowledged quietly, nodding at the balding and rather sweaty middle-aged man walking away from them, "but I wouldn't push my luck from last time."

"He's only getting scarier because he knows he's going to give in," Harry said wisely, holding up a hand to stop Seamus's reply. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

With that, Harry shook the soot off of his sleeve as he turned and walked alone down the pristine hallway towards the office he was technically banned from.

His heart was still racing from adrenaline and victory, and the ash falling from his hair and his clothes was only serving to excite him further.

He slowed as that occurred to him, frowning. That…probably wasn't right.

Rounding the corner, he halted with a grin at the wooden door with the impressive plaque.

D. A. Malfoy, it read, and Harry sighed in relief.

Oh, but it had been ages.

He pushed the door open without knocking, making the blond jump and drop a stack of papers with a shriek.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, side-stepping into the room.

Draco rolled his eyes when he saw who his visitor was. "What do you want, Potter?" he sighed, placing the papers back on his desk. "I thought I told you that you weren't allowed in here."

Harry's eyes flickered to the small movement of Draco drawing his wand from his sleeve, the tip of the wood poking out subtly but noticeably from the fabric. He shrugged.

"You say that every time," he said dismissively.

Draco eyed him sideways. "I'm not going to shag you, Potter."

Harry grinned. "You say that every time, too, Malfoy."

Draco looked at him for a moment before sighing again. "Tea?"

"Love some," Harry replied, and accepted the cup he saw Draco had already made for him with a quick kiss.

"You're unharmed this time?" Draco asked, settling in his chair.

"Being an Auror means I'm in danger a lot," Harry told him, for the hundredth time. "But yeah, today we were just taking some dragons away from another secret arena."

Draco frowned. "Those owners can be vicious."

"Yeah, but this one was just an idiot," Harry snorted, taking a sip. "Seriously, when you put up posters advertising illegal dragon fighting it makes it very easy to arrest you."

"So if this was so routine, why does it entail victory sex? In my office?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.

Harry grinned at him again. "I missed you."

Draco dropped his head and returned to his work, hiding a smile and blush. "Harry, we live together. You saw me this morning."

Harry shrugged, still smiling. "Still."

A knock at the door, however, promised to halt any proceedings of victory sex. Harry leaned back in his chair as Draco rose from his.

"Come in," he called, and predictably, Hermione stepped quickly into the office.

"I see you're both decent," she observed dryly, raising one eyebrow.

Unfortunately, Harry thought wryly.

"Hence the 'come in'," Draco replied.

"You're still coming over for dinner tonight, aren't you? Ginny and Luna just canceled, something urgent, but I hope to see you around seven?" she asked briskly, her body and tone never leaving the strict and intimidating professional manner she adopted from the moment she stepped into the Ministry until the moment she left it.

"Ginny and Luna? Are you sure Ginny can't just come?" Draco asked worriedly, but Harry laughed.

"Pansy'll be fine. She doesn't need Ginny there all the time," he said.

"Well, she is the only Gryffindor Pansy thinks anything of," Hermione sighed, prompting Draco to smile.

"Don't be dramatic, Hermione, it's not you. You know as well as I do that everything out of Pansy's mouth is an outright lie."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Now who's being dramatic? It's beside the point, anyway—you two will be there?"

"Yeah, we'll be there," Harry answered, flashing her an assuring smile.

She nodded, smiling back. "Good. See you tonight! Oh, and Harry—can I speak to you outside for a minute?"

The easy smile Harry had obtained listening to her flickered and he felt pinpricks of anxiety in his stomach.

"Yeah," he replied nonchalantly, standing up and following her out of the room. He could feel Draco's eyes on him, but he pretended he didn't notice them drilling holes into the back of his head.

As soon as she closed the door behind him, Hermione whirled on Harry with an excitement in her eyes that almost startled Harry.

"Are you still going to do it, then?" she whispered, and Harry's eyes widened in alarm as he yanked her away from the door.

"Hermione, he could hear you!"

"So you are?" she pressed, squeezing his arm.

"Yeah—Merlin, Hermione, that hurts—yeah, I'm gonna do it." He replied, extracting his arm from her claw and rubbing it.

She didn't look even remotely apologetic as she squealed, clapping her hands together. "Show me! Show me, show me, show me!"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes after he cast one last look at the door. Shoving his hand into his back pocket, he felt the now-familiar thrill of terror and excitement as he found the small velvet box.

He brought it out to show her and she snatched it from him immediately.

"Hermione!"

"Oh, Harry, it's gorgeous," she gasped, slowly and carefully opening the lid to reveal the pretty band inside.

"I mean, it's silver," Harry shrugged, reddening.

"It's—Harry, it's embossed and engraved—who helped you with this?"

Harry flushed even more. "Um, his mother."

Hermione laughed. "She could open a business!"

"Probably," Harry agreed, taking the ring back from her and hastily shoving it back out of sight.

"Oh, Harry!" she squealed again, flying at him in a rare show of affection at work.

"Well god, mate, did you propose to her?" Ron's voice floated towards them down the hallway.

"Shh!" Harry silenced him desperately, pointing towards Draco's office. "He could hear you!"

"Sorry," Ron apologized, holding his arm out for Hermione as she dislodged herself from Harry's torso. "Come on, love, we've got to go. See you tonight?" he asked Harry, winking at him before walking away with Hermione.

Harry exhaled and turned back to the door. The confidence and buzz of adrenaline he had gained from the dragons had not carried over to what he was planning to do that night, much to his disappointment.

But of course, he had never done anything like this before.

He had defeated Voldemort, saved the Wizarding World, finished his exams and gotten a job and he couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous.

But it was nothing, right?

Proposing to Draco shouldn't be anything…different, it's not like anything would change. It's just a more…official way of saying that he wants to be with Draco…until he dies…

And it wasn't like they hadn't talked about spending the rest of their lives together—they've talked about it in the way that they both know there won't ever be anyone else, in the joking conversations about where they'll live when they're old, and then when they're really old, in the way that their decisions have always been a joint effort.

They've always been together—a unit, complementing forces—from the moment Draco rescued Harry from Malfoy Manor.

This shouldn't be anything new.

And yet, Harry was terrified. He had asked Ron if he had felt anything like this when he had proposed to Hermione, and Ron had laughed.

"Mate, I almost pissed myself whenever she looked at me that entire day I had that ring in my pocket," he had replied, smiling fondly at the memory. "It didn't help that we were barely nineteen years old, I had no idea how she even felt about marriage—I was insanely lucky."

That had not helped Harry.

Even though he was admittedly better prepared than Ron—they were twenty-three and twenty-four, not nineteen, with steady jobs and a six year relationship—Harry still felt like Draco could be potentially blindsided.

The idea wasn't exactly illogical, or even particularly random—it had occurred to Harry after something went wrong on a case a couple months ago and Harry had been rushed to St. Mungos. Draco wasn't allowed admission until he was completely stable because he wasn't Harry's spouse or family, and Harry could see how much the realization he couldn't necessarily always be there for Harry had hurt him.

Draco had never really hinted at anything, just relayed the story with frustration and apology later on when Harry had woken up and was declared fit for visitation.

It wasn't like earlier visitation—or even tax benefits—was the driving force behind the idea. The incident had prompted a thought that Harry suddenly couldn't get out of his mind—after six years of living with Draco Malfoy, it finally occurred to Harry to maybe marry the git.

He turned back to face Draco's office, his stomach churning and the box in his pocket suddenly feeling red-hot against the thin fabric of his trousers.

Opening the door, he saw Draco spin around so fast Harry thought he might fall over.

"Alright there?" he asked, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" Draco asked, his smile flickering a bit.

Harry blinked. "Dinner's not for hours," he replied, and Draco shook his head.

"We're making a short stop first," Draco informed him, closing a folder on his desk and slipping it into his briefcase.

"If we're going to your mother's again, she can't make us late—"

Draco smiled, shaking his head. "Not my mother's."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Where?"

"Amsterdam," Harry observed blankly, landing as they did in an incredibly familiar alleyway. He looked at Draco, completely confused. "Um. Did you…forget something here?"

Draco laughed, taking Harry's hand and stepping up to the wall. "You'll see."

They were pulled through and were deposited in an achingly familiar garden around the Cornelisson Manor—a sight Harry had not seen for six years.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked, slightly in awe, having forgotten how pretty the whole place was.

Draco didn't answer, but pulled him through the garden and up the door, his grip on Harry's hand tightening.

Harry, meanwhile, was panicking.

Oh, fuck, he thought, did I forget an anniversary?

But no—it was September. Nothing happened to them in September…

Is it Draco's birthday? He thought wildly, and then remembered again that it was September.

Is it my birthday?

WHAT PART OF SEPTEMBER IS SO HARD FOR YOU TO GRASP? Harry shouted inwardly at himself, his heart rate speeding up as Draco led him through the memorized hallways of the house.

Just as Harry was concluding that this could all be a veritable dream, he found himself being led, of all places, into the kitchen on the second floor.

"You've made me sentimental, Potter," Draco said softly, prompting a smile from Harry.

Draco turned around to face him, looking a bit apprehensive.

Harry smiled at him again, bemused.

Draco took a deep breath and his gaze intensified, and Harry realized what was happening a split second before it happened.

As Harry's mind halted and Draco sank to one knee, the only thing Harry could think to say was, "No!"

Draco froze, already on the ground, and Harry cringed horribly.

His mind sarcastically applauded him.

"I mean—not no," Harry started over, but Draco just stared up at him, vaguely horrified. "Just—"

Harry reached out to bring Draco back to his standing position, drawing closer to him.

He met Draco's bewildered and mortified gaze with his own amazed one—and burst out laughing.

Draco's arms came around him automatically as Harry unexpectedly fell into him, laughing hysterically.

"Harry—" Draco tried, but Harry shook his head.

"Let me—oh my God, this is…"

Harry took a few shuddering breaths to stabilize himself, and wordlessly reached into his pocket, pulling out his own ring box.

Draco gasped at the sight of it, his mouth falling open.

"Fuck," he choked out, and started to laugh too.

"We're usually so in sync!" Harry moaned, still smiling, resting his head on the taller man's shoulder to hide his blush.

"Technically, this was pretty synchronized," Draco responded thoughtfully. "Same day and everything. You were planning to do it tonight? At the dinner party?"

Harry nodded. "And almost everyone knew, too…"

"Oh, see, I didn't tell anyone."

Harry looked up, amused. "I'm assuming not your mother either?"

"No…you told her?" Draco asked, sounding surprised.

"I asked her first," Harry admitted, blushing again. "I wasn't sure…if I was supposed to…since you're all really traditional…"

Draco laughed. "Pureblood tradition prevents us from marrying in the first place, but what did she say?"

"She just looked at me for a good thirty seconds, it was the most scared I'd ever been," Harry recalled, shuddering. "I knew she liked me and everything, but dear God, your mother is the most intimidating woman I've ever seen. Anyway, she finally nodded once and said that I couldn't propose with 'whatever ring I was going pick out—"

"She was probably right," Draco interjected.

"—hush, I'm telling my very romantic story. So after insulting me she grabbed my arm and hauled me off to her personal jeweler and we spent four hours there. I still don't know how. I think there should just be a standard engagement ring for every person," Harry concluded, rolling his eyes and running his fingers over the box in his hand. "Still, I think she—we—did very well."

"Did you now?" Draco asked, and Harry was delighted to hear him sound a bit nervous.

He lifted his head and grinned. "Wanna see it?"

Draco scoffed. "You send my heart a-fluttering, Potter. 'Wanna see it?'"

Harry rolled his eyes but still smiled, feeling a familiar warmth spread throughout his entire body. This is how it always was—and always would be—with Draco Malfoy. "Let me do it properly, then."

End.