Draco was infatuated with his boyfriend. Not only was he beautiful in a roguish, brutish kind of way, but he had the body of a god. A very well sculpted, bronze colored, muscular, pin me to the bed type of god. The body that he had come to know so well was the epitome of manliness, but if Draco were honest with himself, he wanted the world to see what he saw every night.
Not the complete nakedness of his gorgeous boyfriend, but at least a part of him. Every time after they made love or fucked each other's brains out, Draco would find comfort in the fact that no one would ever have what he did, but that didn't mean that he didn't want to show off exactly what he did have.
Soft kisses in the morning after a rough night had him hard again from the start, and as his boyfriend would shower his stunning lithe body with licks and promises, he would give himself so willingly and so pliantly to the man who made him feel revered above all others.
There was just one problem.
Draco wanted the world to admire what he had, what they couldn't have. And so night after night, he would think of plans on how to go about it. How was he going to get the message across that nobody knew even existed. How was the world to know - their friends included - that he belonged to Draco.
That they belonged to each other.
Draco knew he was a spoiled brat, and had only need to ask his boyfriend, and it would be given. Harry Potter had assured him when they first started, that he would do anything in his power - and he had a lot of it - to make Draco the happiest man on earth.
Not that Draco was complaining. He was happy, he was delirious with happiness, and at times it felt like his heart would burst from the emotion.
It had happened after the war. About six minutes after, in fact. When the bastard Voldemort was lying to one side, and everyone had tried to get to Harry, the golden boy had eyes for only one person.
His striking green eyes looking for the Slytherin, to thank him for his part in the light side winning the war. He hadn't identified the trio at the Manor, he had let Harry take his wand from him that night, and finally threw another wand to him in his final showdown. Without Draco Malfoy, Harry would be dead and the dark side would be ruling.
When their eyes found each other in the hall, they both took tentative steps towards each other, and when the gap was almost closed, they ran into each other's arms and hugged like this was to be their last moment together.
Collective gasps could be heard all around them from the students and staff, but they paid them no further mind. Holding onto each other as tight as they could, fingers clinging tightly into clothes, their faces blotted with blood and dirt, they never let go.
Draco was the first to break. His head in Harry's neck, his body started to shake from relief and anger, and most of all regret. He had known from the beginning that his parents had failed him in so many ways, and he supposed that Harry had been let down too by so many people.
The only difference between them was that Harry had people to guide him, telling him what was right and wrong, while Draco had been told to go out and be evil. Not caring one iota for his mental wellbeing or the effects that it would have on him after the fact.
But Harry knew. There was no way that 17 year old boys - especially pure bloods - would ever have a choice in the matter. Voldemort had chosen Harry to be his equal, and he supposed that there had been other candidates for the job, but Harry had risen to the occasion like a hero.
Where Draco had been chosen to be the scape goat.
He had been told by his mother one evening that his father wished for him to receive the dark mark, as an act of loyalty to him and their dark lord. Draco had feared for his life when he had heard those words.
