mmh yes

Guards! Put that man in the blender

Breathless and spent, Draco tumbles down onto the bed. He’s laughing. A real, genuine laugh. He turns his head and finds Harry beside him, flushed and amused and a little bewildered.

The reason why sits on Harry’s finger.

A gold band.

The only thing he’s wearing.

“So?” Draco asks, shifting to face him properly.

“So what?” Harry counters.

Draco is in no mood to draw the process out. He crowds into Harry’s space, nipping gently at the sweat-slick skin of his neck, then soothes the sting with a kiss.

Against his ear, he says, “You’re wearing it.”

Harry looks at him, eyes half-lidded. “So I am.”

“I’m going to presume, then.” Draco takes Harry’s hand, draws it up, kisses the ring he had slotted onto his finger half an hour ago, then holds it tight.

“Presume?”

“That you’re saying yes. You didn’t say it earlier.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “You didn’t exactly give me the chance.”

“Is it a yes, Harry?” Draco presses.

He knows it is. It has to be.

How can it not be after everything? After the war and the trials, after both of them becoming Aurors, after the fights and the arguments, after the shared drinks where absolution was found at the bottom of a pint glass and resurrection between the sheets.

How can it not be yes, when even after all that, they spent months denying themselves the joy and love of each other because they both felt like they didn’t deserve it?

Harry tightens his fingers around Draco’s.

He tilts his head, fondness written plainly across his face. “I’m inclined to acquiesce.”

“Inclined to acquiesce,” Draco repeats mildly. “Wow. Swallowed a thesaurus, did you?”

“Swallowed something,” Harry mutters, arching a brow. “Swallowed your brain through your—”

Draco pinches his waist. Harry laughs, and then Draco is tickling him properly, ruthless with it, fingers digging into every vulnerable place he knows by heart.

“Draco—fuck—stop—”

“Answer the question.”

“I did!”

“You used four syllables too many.”

Harry squirms beneath him, panting and helpless and wearing Draco’s ring.

“Yes,” he gasps at last. “Yes, I’ll fucking marry you.”

Draco stills and for a moment, the room goes quiet around them. Then Harry reaches up, cups Draco’s face, and smiles.

It was half eleven when Harry, who had gone to bed early, reappeared in the sitting room.

Draco looked up from the thick alchemy textbook he was working through for his studies. Harry might be hungry again and in need of a midnight snack; the Auror training drills seemed to do that to him. But then Harry passed straight through the room, apparently unhappy with whatever was left in the kitchen, and headed for the front door.

“Darling?” Draco called.

“Going out for a bit.”

“Ah,” Draco said, setting his bookmark between the pages and closing his book. “And why would that be?”

“Nuggies,” Harry replied, sticking his dishevelled head back into the sitting room.

“And who would that be?”

Harry did not answer. Instead, he first gasped, then threw Draco his jacket.

— — —

Draco was not comfortable on the plastic chair of this… establishment, which seemed to establish noise, grease, and salt in equal parts.

Across the table, Harry was lamenting that his fried, pressed chicken nuggets smelled gross, but he kept eating them anyway, cringing and groaning, dipping them into various tiny sauce packets in an attempt to find the one that caused the least revolt in his stomach.

“Harry,” Draco tried again, “would you be inclined to tell me what is up with you?”

“You almost got that right,” Harry mumbled around a mouthful of nugget.

“Elaborate,” Draco demanded with a roll of his hand, then caved to his morbid curiosity and took a nibble out of what Mr McDonald claimed to be meat.

“Something isn’t up with me. Just up me. Or someone, rather.”

“Darling,” Draco sighed, taken aback by the texture of the food, yet courageously taking a more deliberate bite, “try again.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.”

Draco put the nugget back onto Harry’s side of the food tray.

“With a picky eater, too,” Harry said casually, as though this were perfectly normal and not another little miracle. “Must be, because it’s yours.”

“Picky for this?” Draco asked, feeling himself begin to tremble—Harry was pregnant!—and stared down at the cardboard boxes Harry was eating out of.

“Perfect balance between the two of us, love.”

“Please do not misinterpret my question. I love you, and I am thrilled, but…” Draco’s brow furrowed, and Harry continued contently eating. They were having a baby! “How are you so calm?”

“Already died once,” Harry said with a shrug, his feet bracketing Draco’s under the table. “It’s only fair that I get to give birth once, too.”

“Perfect balance,” Draco squeaked.

So like, at what point of Zuko's reign did he legalize being gay?

This has so much fanfiction potential. Zukka shippers, you know what to do.

is often frustrated by your disobedience to direct commands. things said for your safety or for the protection of his work and his team.

greets you at your desk from behind with firm hands working the tenseness in your shoulders, leaning down to ask about your day

speaks with such a certain evenness and authority that it makes you weak in the knees every time

doesn't necessarily stalk you, but keeps an eye on the area you live in for crime reports, power outages, anything that could pose a risk to you.

movie nights after work are often interrupted by aaron drifting off and sleeping in the first few minutes

he can get.... surprisingly clingy if you're away too long. not really around anyone, but in private. any second alone is filled with touches and nudges, desperate grasps for affection

does secretly enjoy being called your 'sugar daddy' by your friends or colleagues

loves to tease you with the most soft and subtle comments. things that almost don't quite sound like teasing but you know that's what they are. calculated and perfected to strike a chord in you

Ugly harry ice cream

I think there would be harry Merch or Harry theme stuff everywhere and Drays finds that really funny