Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis: A Drarry Story

Epilogue: Ten Years Later. Perth, Australia.

Harry sighed and let the sunlight melt his naked body against the fine sand of Mullaloo Beach. The Veil around him provided no shade, only anonymity. Despite Hermione's admonishments, he rarely went a day without basking like a lizard, and he had the full-body tan to prove it. Draco had grown a few freckles.

His mobile vibrated. Ron kept sending photos of Harry and Draco's headstones.

Somewhere behind him, Draco was either stealing drinks or conning someone into buying them for him. He'd follow his own footprints back to Harry, and the drinks in his hands would vary as much as the face he wore.

Sand crunched next to Harry's head, and he opened an eye. Through the haze of the Veil, Draco stood above him, a can of Bud Light in each hand. He looked rather disappointed in his earnings. He was downright scandalous in a tangerine Speedo.

"Slim pickings." Harry snuck a hand out through the opening in the Veil and poked Draco's foot. "You can drink both of those yourself."

Draco wedged the cans upright in the sand and surveyed the beach. A few bathers splashed in the water, but the wide expanse of white sand was mostly empty. "Scoot over."

With a furtive glance around the beach, Harry held the Veil open like a sleeping bag, and Draco snuck in next to him. Harry wrapped it around them and put his arm around Draco's back.

Harry's lips pressed against Draco's collarbone, seeking out the raised peak of his mole amongst the freckles. "What face did you wear that earned you Bud Light?"

Draco nuzzled Harry's hair for a moment, then pulled back. "This one."

Harry looked up and shrugged. "Your real face should at least you vodka shots."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

Harry let his hand wander down Draco's side, and he ran a finger under the stretchy waistband of his Speedo. "You didn't Dopplegänger the drinks out of someone?"

Draco's breath huffed out into Harry's hair. "I did."

Harry hummed and slid his hand into Draco's pants. His own cock swelled in reply. "You did not."

"I'm wearing a face right," Draco gasped when Harry squeezed his dick, "now. You can't see it?"

Harry pushed Draco's pants down and wrapped his hand around both of them. "Nope. You're just you."

Draco was quiet, his breathing no louder than the waves lapping against the sand. "Do you know what I call this face?" he asked.

"Do you call it..." Harry spit in his palm, scooted closer to Draco, lined his cock up with Draco's, and resumed stroking them both. "... recently declared dead?"

"No."

"Freckled fugitive?"

"No."

"Butterdick?"

"No." A grin crept across Draco's face, crinkling the smile lines Harry considered his own handiwork. "I call it 'husband material', actually."

"Is that so?" Harry's hand stopped moving, and his heart thudded against his ribs. He loved the idea, though they'd never discussed it. "And it only earned you Bud Light?"

"She had a very low opinion of men, I think." Draco's lips tugged Harry's hair. "But it did get a dashing man to jerk me off on the beach."

Harry smeared their combined precum around the head of Draco's cock. "Did it?"

"Mm hm. He's-" Draco gasped as Harry tightened his grip. "-quite good at it."

"Is he?"

"Mm hm," Draco hummed, thrusting in time with Harry's hand. "To die for."

"You think so?" Harry's voice was a chest-deep rumble.

"Just the once," Draco said, panting into Harry's hair. "But I'll kill you if you stop."