Work Text:
What do you Propose?
“Too much.”
The troubled tone of Harry’s voice pulled Draco’s attention away from the items he held in each hand. Harry’s brow was furrowed, his mouth pressed in a thin line, indicating that he was, indeed, every bit as troubled as his voice had sounded.
“Too much?” Draco asked. He looked helplessly back and forth – unable to make a decision – between the package of Cadbury’s Double Chocolate Fingers in his one hand and the Sainsbury’s Dark Chocolate and Ginger biscuits in his other. “How can you say that, Harry? You know next week begins the most stressful time of year for our business. No more quiet afternoons crafting wands in the workshop or day trips to collect materials. All the little monsters will have received their Hogwarts letters and will descend upon Diagon Alley with their equally monstrous parents to purchase their school supplies – including our wands! They’ll be swarming our shop, hanging from the rafters. Demanding little buggers. I need plenty of chocolate to soothe me.” Though Harry’s frown had eased somewhat, Draco continued on defensively. “I’m… I’m provisioning!”
A knowing grin chased the rest of the frown from Harry’s face. He grabbed both items from Draco’s grasp and dropped them into the trolley. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of chocolate in your time of need, Draco. Although,” he said as he began pushing the trolley, “I thought you told me that the really expensive chocolate you insist on ordering from that place in Belgium was the only thing that could soothe you in desperate times?”
As they rounded the corner into another aisle at Sainsbury’s, their trolley almost collided with two women who were “sword” fighting with the baguettes. Apologies were offered all around. The women, exchanging sheepish grins and snickers, tossed one of the baguettes into their own trolley and rushed off.
“Told you I wasn’t the only one who liked to sword fight with the bread,” Harry whispered smugly.
Draco rolled his eyes. “You are such a child.”
“Says the man who never leaves the store without pushing off and jumping up to ride on the trolley,” Harry said.
“You’ve no one but yourself to blame for that, Potter. It was you who introduced me to it in your ‘Shopping in Sainsbury’s is more fun than shopping in Harrods’ challenge. Which I still contest, by the way. Much as I enjoy a good trolley ride, Harrods owns my soul.”
“The only thing I find interesting in Harrods is you.” Harry nudged Draco’s shoulder with his own. “And you contest all the challenges you don’t win outright.” He gave their list one last, quick glance. “Are we done here?”
“I do not contest all the challenges I don’t win,” Draco argued even as he preened a bit from Harry’s first comment. “I only contest them when you cheat to win. And,” he called out as he pushed off and raced away on the cart, “we’re not done here until I’ve had my trolley ride.”
It was a “challenge” that had marked the beginning of Harry and Draco’s relationship three years before. In that first one, Harry had been determined to convince Draco that catching snowflakes on the tongue was a far more pleasurable sensation than the feel of cashmere against skin. Draco had been just as adamantly determined to prove otherwise. Though Draco had graciously agreed to call the result a draw, Harry had declared it a clear win for Draco. The amazing hand job he’d received had Harry feeling rather generous in that regard. At the same time, it seemed to make him that much more determined to come up with subsequent competitions and, of course, win them. Since Draco’s competitive streak was a perfect match for Harry’s, the following three years had seen no shortage of challenges where each tried to win over the other.
Among them:
The Sainsbury’s versus Harrods challenge. Though Harry counted this one as a victory, Draco was not quite ready to concede defeat. While they could both amuse themselves in the grocery store, shopping at Harrods only seemed to make Harry bored and irritable. Well… unless they could manage to slip into a changing room together. But Harry claimed that didn’t count because they could indulge in those activities in a variety of settings, not just Harrods. And the fun to be had at Sainsbury’s could be had every time and in any part of the store. Draco was determined to claim victory on this someday – even if it meant he had to carry a thoroughly debauched Harry from the changing rooms (in clear view of the Muggles) because his legs would no longer support him.
The My Friends versus Your Friends challenge. Though both men had learned to tolerate each other’s friends over the years, they ultimately decided creating any challenges involving the two groups was only asking for trouble. They left this challenge permanently in “Draw” status.
The Blow Job versus Rim Job challenge. This was also considered a draw, but one or the other of the two men was frequently calling for a rematch on this issue – and just as frequently taking on the opposing view from the time previous. Definitely merited further consideration, this one.
The Silk versus Ice Lolly challenge. This had been, in Harry’s estimation, one of the major challenges. He felt he had caved rather shamelessly in the face of Draco’s wicked wielding of his favorite winter fabric. But honestly, who could blame him? Harry could still get hard just thinking about the way Draco had touched him with those damned cashmere mittens. This had made him that much more determined to win the challenge involving Draco’s favorite warm weather fabric: silk. It had taken him quite some time to come up with a sensation that would challenge the sensual delight of silk along bare skin. He’d feared that, given what Draco had been able to do to him with cashmere, the challenge of silk could prove impossible to win against. The words ‘cool’ and ‘refreshing’ kept coming to mind as Harry had wracked his brain to find a worthy contestant. He’d felt rather proud of himself for hitting upon the idea of an ice lolly. Draco had, somewhat predictably, scoffed when Harry had presented his offering. And then declared Harry to be orally-fixated as he watched Harry fellate the ice pop. It wasn’t until Harry demonstrated that other orifices could be delightfully stimulated by a frozen fruit-flavored treat that Draco conceded defeat. Quite happily.
Later, as they were putting away the groceries in the kitchen of their flat, Draco paused as he pulled the chocolate biscuits from the bag. “What did you mean, earlier, when you said, ‘Too much.’?”
Harry closed the pantry door and turned to his boyfriend. “What?”
“Earlier,” Draco repeated. “When I was debating which biscuits to buy, and you said, ‘Too much.’ What were you talking about?”
“Oh, that.” Harry leaned back against the counter and absently ran a hand through his hair. “I was just thinking about the match earlier. Or, rather, the after-the-match presentation.”
Earlier that day, Harry and Draco had attended the Harpies match against the Falcons. All the Weasleys had been there as well. The family didn’t usually attend Ginny’s games en masse, but this had been a special circumstance. The team management had informed the family that Ginny was to receive an award after the match – but it was a surprise, so things were to be kept very hush-hush. As it turned out, the Weasleys were in for a surprise, just as much as Ginny.
“Oh,” Draco said and smirked. “That. It was quite the spectacle, I’ll agree.”
“Exactly,” Harry said. “A spectacle. A marriage proposal shouldn’t be a spectacle, should it? Even if you are Oliver Wood and can pull all sorts of rank to ask your girlfriend to marry you in front of thousands of fans.”
“The benefit of being the youngest-ever Quidditch Commissioner, I suppose,” Draco said. “If Commissioner Wood says he’s going to fly onto the pitch at the end of a match and ask his girlfriend to marry him, who’s going to tell him he can’t?” Draco pulled two glasses out of the cabinet and poured them each a glass of wine.
“Well, that’s the point,” Harry said as he followed Draco into the living room. They settled onto the sofa, sitting on opposite ends and leaning back against the armrests. Each had removed their shoes, and their feet met in the middle of the sofa, the only contact between them at that moment. “Someone should have said, ‘No, Oliver, you can’t ask your girlfriend to marry you in such a public way. Or, just because you can, it doesn’t mean you should.’”
Draco stretched out one of his legs so that his foot now rested against the side of Harry’s hip. “While I happen to agree, why does it really matter?”
Harry sighed. “It doesn’t, I reckon. But didn’t Ginny’s response surprise you?”
Draco looked at him quizzically. “You mean jumping onto his broomstick, yelling ‘Yes!’, and then proceeding to use her tongue to search down his throat for the engagement ring?” He paused for a sip of wine. “Not particularly, no.”
“But…” Harry seemed to be searching for words. “I don’t know. Ginny’s always been a ‘no-frills’ kind of girl. I wouldn’t have thought she’d go for something so… overdone.”
“Yes, well you see, that’s the reason your long-ago decision to leave Ms. Weasley and her frills to other men better suited to appreciate them was the right one.” Draco poked his foot into Harry’s hip. “And even if she didn’t go for the way he proposed, would you have expected her to turn Oliver Wood down in front of all those people – just because he didn’t get the proposal right?”
“Well, that’s another point, isn’t it?” Harry persisted. “If you put someone in a position where they can’t turn you down – at least not at that moment – then how do you know if they would have said yes to begin with?”
“What is it with you?” Draco asked. “You were dissatisfied with Blaise and Justin’s engagement as well, now that I think of it.”
“Absolutely!” Harry said, almost sloshing the wine from his glass as he used it to press his point. “Another huge, over-the-top gesture. The birthday party with all their friends and family at an exclusive restaurant. One extravagance after another. Blaise might as well have just said ‘Marry me, Justin. How can you say no when I’ve thrown all this money at the situation?’”
“Oh, I suppose you think the Ron Weasley scheme of dinner and a movie – something they do almost every weekend – is the preferred method of proposal?” Draco leaned over to put his wine glass on the coffee table, so he could cross his arms in a gesture of disapproval.
“But he put the ring in the popcorn box, and Hermione was completely surprised when she found it,” Harry argued, also laying aside his wine glass. “It was classic.”
“Meaning it has already been done to death,” Draco asserted. “And of course she was surprised – they’d only been together forever, and she’d almost given up hope that he was ever going to propose.”
“So, I suppose you could come up with something better?” Harry said, challenge clear in his tone.
“Of course,” Draco said, confidently. “Just as I assume you think you could come up with something better than what Blaise and Oliver did?”
“No doubt!” Harry said.
The two men stared at each other for several moments, obviously calculating and considering before presenting their ideas for this challenge of Best Proposal Ever. Harry pulled his feet back and tucked his legs under him. One hand rested along the back of the sofa.
“Alright,” Harry said, finally. “Something Oliver did right. He played to a shared interest – Quidditch. Something that’s been important to both of them. That showed that he’d put some thought into it, beyond overwhelming her with his status and celebrity.” He couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at the end.
Draco considered this for a moment before nodding his agreement. “I concur. Focus on the things that bring you together.” Now Draco sat forward, posture assertive to aid his counter. “I disagree with your position on extravagance.” Harry scoffed, and Draco punched at his leg. “Hear me out, you common oaf. If a person does, in fact, have money readily available – and plenty of it – what’s the harm in using it? It doesn’t have to be – shouldn’t be – a vulgar display of wealth. But certainly, having money can assist in making special arrangements.” He smoothed a hand over the leg he’d recently punched. “A lovely, intimate hotel in a romantic setting, perhaps. A seemingly spur-of-the-moment holiday to a place that has special meaning for the both of them.”
Harry nodded. “I can agree with that.” He placed his hand atop Draco’s and entwined their fingers. “So… intimate. Does that mean you agree with me that it shouldn’t be a public display? Just the two of them, instead?”
“Yes,” Draco said. “Everyone else will know eventually. The actual proposal… that’s best done privately, I believe.” Leaning forward, he slipped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, smiling when he felt Harry’s arms encircle his waist. “Facilitates that element of intimacy, don’t you think?”
“Mmhmm,” Harry agreed, though he couldn’t manage an answer with actual words since his lips were pressed against Draco’s just then. The challenge was put aside for the moment to allow for soft, sweet kisses. Harry ended the kiss on a happy sigh, his forehead resting against Draco’s. He waited until Draco opened his eyes, then smiled and said, “Draco, hold on.”
The destination of their Apparation was the parlor of a cottage. Draco would have recognized it immediately – even without Harry’s cat-that-ate-the-cream grin. “Cornwall,” he said, smiling back at Harry.
“The cottage near Tintagel,” Harry confirmed. The late afternoon light was still bright enough to allow them to see, but with a quick, wandless gesture, Harry lit the lamps and opened the window that looked out onto the ocean. They helped each other to stand and went to the window to look down on the stretch of beach below them.
“I love this place,” Draco said, slipping his fingers through Harry’s.
“I know,” Harry said, trying not to sound too smug. “It was our first adventure, after we finished school.”
“Where we first talked about approaching Ollivander.” Draco turned to Harry, his smile now a smirk. “Where we discovered we had a mutual desire to learn more about wandlore.”
“A shared interest,” Harry said, unable to control his grin. “Something important to both of us.”
“Of course one of the things I really like about this place, is that it’s so… private,” Draco said. “One might even say intimate.”
“Perfect for a seemingly, spur-of-the-moment holiday,” Harry agreed.
A pale eyebrow arched to enhance the smirk. “Some might call it extravagant.”
“Well, you know, fortunately, my boyfriend is loaded.” Harry barely got the words out before Draco elbowed him in the stomach. “Oof!”
“As if this would put the slightest dent in your Gringotts account,” Draco said.
Harry looked a bit sheepish. “Well, no, you’re right about that.” He looked down for a moment, then pulled on Draco’s hand to lead him out the door.
They walked across the garden behind the cottage toward the edge of the cliff. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden shimmer over the water. The sound of the surf on the beach, a short distance below them, seemed hushed, soothing. They stood close together for a while just taking in the beauty of this place. Finally, Harry turned to look only at Draco. His smile was gentle now, his gaze steady as he dropped to one knee. He brought Draco’s hand to his lips and said, “Will you marry me?”
Draco’s smile was brilliant. A laugh escaped him as he sank to his knees and took Harry’s face in his hands. The kiss began gently, but soon became quite enthusiastic. It didn’t last long. Draco was laughing, and Harry was shaking from the adrenaline rushing through him.
“You haven’t answered me yet,” Harry managed to say. Though he was smiling, a hint of worry had crept into his voice.
Draco placed another quick kiss on Harry’s lips before pulling just far enough away to reach a hand into the pocket of his trousers. “The question is, Harry,” Draco said, as he produced a small box that he held up between them, “will you marry me?” He opened the box. The metal of the ring caught one of the lingering rays of the sun.
Harry gasped and fell back onto the grass. He continued to gape at the ring for several moments before looking back up at Draco. Draco was watching him with vast amusement. Harry was certain he must appear ridiculous, sprawled on the ground, mouth working to try to make words that wouldn’t seem to form. Finally, he gave up and just closed his mouth. Draco, still holding the open ring box, settled on the grass beside him.
“I’m guessing I might was well make myself comfortable,” Draco said. “My answer, by the way, is ‘yes’, Harry. Yes – I’ll marry you.” Draco almost lost his grip on the ring box when Harry grabbed him and kissed him.
When they parted, Draco took the ring from the box. It was white gold, and Harry suspected it was a family heirloom. It was set with a beautifully faceted stone. Harry had at first been certain it was an emerald, but in the fading light it seemed to flash with blue as well. Draco took Harry’s hand and lifted the ring to the tip of his finger. He stopped just short of slipping it on. Harry looked up to see a question plain upon Draco’s face. “Well?” Draco asked.
“Yes,” Harry said, nodding vigorously, a laugh bubbling up out of him. “Of course, yes!”
Draco slid the ring onto Harry’s finger and placed a kiss upon it. Then he took Harry’s hand, turned it, and kissed the open palm. “Thank you,” he whispered.
After a moment, Draco relinquished Harry’s hand, so he was able to look more closely at the ring. “It’s gorgeous, Draco.” Harry lifted his hand up, admiring the ring as it sparkled in the available light. When he caught Draco smiling indulgently at him, he ducked his head a bit. “Good thing someone brought a ring to this proposal. I wanted to,” he hurried to add. “I just couldn’t find anything I thought you’d like. I’d pretty much convinced myself that you’d probably enjoy dragging me around from shop to shop to find the one you want.”
“I’m marrying a wise man,” Draco said. “Father will be so pleased.”
Harry tackled him. “Don’t even start. This is our time. Just us.” Draco was smiling up at him, still that same brilliant, open, completely satisfied smile. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Harry told him, as he lowered his body to cover Draco’s. Their lips met again, slow and teasing. The cottage was secluded, but at that moment they could have been surrounded by people and they wouldn’t have noticed.
A little later, when the first stars were just beginning to hint at twinkling, Harry and Draco lay side by side. Harry was once again holding the ring aloft, even though there was very little light left to notice the details. He liked the way it looked on his hand and couldn’t wait for Draco to have a ring as well – a symbol for everyone that he belonged to Harry.
“So, you must have been planning this, for a while,” Draco said. Suddenly he looked sharply at Harry. “Did you instigate that entire conversation about the proposals, create the challenge, just to get me here today?”
“Actually, no,” Harry said. “I was still debating what to do about a ring. I knew I was going to ask you, but I still wasn’t sure when.”
Draco thought for a moment. “But you had this place reserved, you must have had a timeline in mind.”
Even in the dim light, Harry suspected Draco could tell he was a bit flustered. “Well, the cottage wasn’t really going to be a problem. I knew we could come here anytime. I, um… I kind of… bought it.” Draco sat straight up, but was too surprised for the moment to say anything. “Uh… Happy engagement present?”
Draco punched his arm. “You bastard. Complaining about the over-the-top gestures of our friends. I know how much property goes for around here, Harry – when you can find something.” He leaned down over Harry, resting his arms on either side of his head. “And in case it’s not clear in that muddled Gryffindor brain of yours – buying a cottage so you can take your boyfriend there to propose, that definitely counts as extravagance.”
“Oh, now tell me you’re not going to bitch about me buying this place,” Harry said defensively. “You love it here, remember? And, just for the record, how long had you been walking around with this ring in your pocket?”
“I’m not bitching,” Draco said. “I’m probing.” He rocked his body against Harry’s. “You like it when I probe.”
Harry shivered in response and locked his arm around Draco’s waist. “Stop that and answer the question. Maybe you were the one who instigated the challenge today. You’re always trying to manipulate me with those wicked, manipulative Slytherin manipulation skills.”
“If you’ll stop trying to distract me with talk of your man-nipples, I’ll tell you.” His smirk was interrupted by a squeak when Harry pinched his arse. “Brute! Alright, alright! I’ll talk. If you must know, I’ve been making arrangements for a seemingly spur-of-the moment holiday. I was going to insist that we needed to get away for a few days after the upcoming insanity of the Hogwarts rush is over.”
“Actually, that sounds like a brilliant idea,” Harry said. “Can we still do that? Where are we going?”
“Of course we can still go. We really will need the break,” Draco said. “Chocolate can’t fix everything, after all.”
Harry gasped dramatically, “Draco Malfoy! Thank Merlin the sky is clear; you’re tempting a lightning strike, talking such blasphemy.”
“Hush!” Draco said, laughing. “Do you want to hear the plan or not?” When Harry nodded eagerly for him to continue, Draco said, “I’ve had a small band of house-elves preparing the villa near Beaune.”
“I knew it would be France!” Harry grinned. “And that’s a perfect choice. Of all the Malfoy properties you’ve taken me to, that’s my favorite.”
“I know,” Draco said. “At first I thought of Paris, but you always seem so happy at Beaune.”
“Well, it is the site of one of my favorite challenges,” Harry reminded him. “Even though you won that one.”
“Firewhisky versus French wine? You never stood a chance,” Draco said.
“True,” Harry admitted. “But you know the real reason I love that place isn’t the wine.” Draco inclined his head, curious. “I just love the thought of you giving everything in the house a name.”
“I was five years old, and Father wouldn’t let me have a pet,” Draco said.
“I know, but that’s so cute,” Harry said. “Especially since you still refer to the things by those names. Marshall the staircase, Moriarty the table beside your bed. Lola, your favorite decorative pillow on Banner the sofa. What was the name of the fountain with all the fish?”
“Natasha,” Draco said, cheeks a bit pink.
“Oh – and the wind chime just near the fountain – the one with all the lovely blue glass. Marie, wasn’t it?” Harry’s smile was a bit wistful as he remembered their previous holidays at the villa in Beaune.
“Well, at least I know I chose well,” Draco said, a bit smug. “You’re obviously as enamored of the place as I have always been. You would have been powerless to resist my proposal.”
“I am powerless to resist you anywhere, anytime,” Harry said. He hugged Draco close to him, then whispered, “Draco – I love you, you know.
Draco kissed him gently. “Sappy Gryffindor.” Kiss. “Guardian of my heart. Love of my life.” Another soft kiss. “Maker of bacon sandwiches.”
Harry’s laughter disrupted Draco’s kissing. “Hungry?”
“Yes,” Draco said, shifting off of Harry. He stood and offered a hand down to help Harry up. “And I think you should eat something as well.”
“Oh? Do I look hungry?” Harry asked. He slipped an arm around Draco’s waist as they slowly made their way back to the cottage.
“Not overtly, but you’re going to need your strength,” Draco explained. “A little protein now might serve you well later.” Draco reached down to give a quick, teasing squeeze to Harry’s bits. “Then you’re going to provide me with some protein. Marriage proposals should be sealed with blow jobs, you know. An old Pure Blood tradition.”
“Ah, of course,” Harry said. “Can’t neglect tradition. But since we both proposed, doesn’t that mean there should be a little 69 action?” He wriggled his eyebrows.
“Harry, you know I can’t concentrate when we do that,” Draco said. “You distract me.”
“Yep – a slave to my skill, you are,” Harry teased. “I am the champion when it comes to sucking cock.”
Draco stopped. “Oh wait. You are not seriously claiming to be better at blow jobs than I am?”
“I’ve never heard you complain,” Harry said. “Usually because you’re left completely incoherent.”
“Of course I’ve never complained,” Draco said. “You do have a considerable amount of skill, I’ll admit. And enthusiasm.”
Harry stopped just before the door of the cottage. He pulled away from Draco and folded his arms across his chest. “But?”
Draco huffed and pushed open the door, assuming Harry would follow him inside. Which he did. “But, you cannot disregard the importance of things like finesse and attention to detail.”
“I am very attentive to your details, and you know it!” Harry shouted after Draco, who had made a beeline for the kitchen and was exclaiming with delight at finding the pantry and fridge fully-stocked.
“Well,” Draco said, thrusting a frying pan at Harry as he entered the kitchen. “I suppose there’s only one way to settle this. We can work out the details while you’re frying the bacon.”
Harry’s pout became a smirk. “Are you proposing a challenge for the best blow job?”
“Of course,” Draco said, smirking in return. “We can call it the Great Blow Off Challenge.” He handed Harry the bacon he’d retrieved from the fridge. “And I’m going to win.”
“I think it’s cute how you’re so confident,” Harry said as he opened the package.
Draco slapped at the back of Harry’s head. “Bite me, Potter.”
“Really? Kinky!” Harry said, blinking wide oh-so-innocent eyes. “Didn’t realize you were into that. Any other tips you want to give me? Should I be taking notes?”
“You should be frying bacon,” Draco said. “And reconciling yourself to defeat.”
Laughing quietly, Harry pulled Draco to him. “I suspect this challenge will be a win-win.” He captured Draco’s lips in a kiss that left them both shaking and breathless.
Draco rested his head upon Harry’s shoulder, almost purring with satisfaction. “Mmmm. I reckon you’re correct about the win-win thing.” He nuzzled Harry’s neck and relished the answering shiver. “I am inspired, my husband-to-be, to whisper sweet nothings.” Brushing his lips against Harry’s ear, Draco breathed, “Bacon.”
Harry burst out laughing and set about putting the bacon into the pan. Once he had several slices sizzling away, he turned to watch Draco setting the table. “I liked the sound of that, you know.”
Draco looked up and gave him a grin. “Mmm, yeah – bacon! What’s not to like?”
“No, you git,” Harry said, laughing again. “I was referring to the ‘husband-to-be part.”
Draco moved to stand behind Harry, wrapping his arms around him. “I liked that part, too,” he said softly. “I love you so much, Harry.”
Harry relaxed back against Draco, enjoying the closeness of the moment. “I love you, too, Draco.”
Fearful of the moment declining into sappiness of Hufflepuff proportions, Draco nipped at Harry’s neck and, clearly taunting, said, “I’ll wager I love you more, Potter.”
Harry chuckled and said, “One challenge at a time, Malfoy. One challenge at a time.”
**The End of this fic – and the beginning of a wonderful life of love and laughter for Nat and Marie.