Draco smoothed his hair back, brushed a speck of non-existent dust off his shoulder and pouted alluringly at his reflection. He examined himself closely for a few minutes and then nodded in approval. He didn’t normally take this much care over his appearance for a business meeting but this was no ordinary meeting.

Glancing at the clock and finding that he was a fashionable ten minutes late, he sauntered to the fireplace and flooed to his destination.

The restaurant foyer held few people and he spotted his dining partner immediately. Harry Potter raised his hand briefly in greeting before walking over to meet him and Draco eyed him appreciatively.

He had been longing for Potter for years, since the end of the War, in fact. Potter had grown up very nicely, almost too nicely. The end of the War had let Draco feel free enough to finally give in and admit to himself that he had it badly for The Boy – now Man – Who Lived. In his mind, the two of them were happily married and living in a permanent state of bliss and incredible sex. In his fantasies, he always knew Potter as Harry, although at other times he was careful to think of him as Potter. When they met in reality, they never progressed beyond surnames. Draco ached to make his constant dream a reality.

Acting on his desires, however, was easier said than done. He knew Potter was gay and he also knew that Potter didn’t find him repulsive, since they had indulged in a bit of light flirtation at various Ministry functions. It never seemed to occur to Potter to take things any further, though. Draco wasn’t sure whether Potter really was blind enough not to notice that Draco was desperate for a relationship with him or whether it was just his way of saying he wasn’t seriously interested. If that was his message, he might have made it a bit clearer.

Draco felt he had reached an impasse, hence The Plan. Potter’s chosen profession, which had come as a surprise to everyone, gave Draco the idea. As the best and most fashionable architect in Wizarding Britain, Potter had given Draco an easy opening move. He was rather pleased with The Plan, since it addressed all the necessary points he felt were important, while still being subtle and elegant. Most importantly, it gave him the chance he needed. All he wanted was to get Potter’s attention; he was confident that he could take it from there. If Potter didn’t fall for him after this then it obviously wasn’t meant to be and Draco would have to grit his teeth and move on. That was not a particularly pleasant thought, of course, but he was determined that The Plan should not fail.

“Malfoy,” Potter said in a deliciously deep voice, clasping his hand. “Good to see you again.”

Draco melted slightly inside but kept up his cool exterior.

“Likewise, Potter.”

They were conducted to their table and Potter allowed Draco to choose the wine. While they waited for it to arrive, Potter spoke.

“May I confess to being a little surprised when you contacted me? I didn’t expect you of all people to need a house.”

Draco cheered mentally; Potter was making things easier than he had expected.

“The Manor has… not entirely pleasant memories,” he replied, watching Potter’s expression turn sympathetic. “I want somewhere that’s mine and that doesn’t have a lot of baggage attached. I know what it’s like to grow up with expectations hanging on every wall; I don’t want that for my children.”

Potter blinked.

“I didn’t know were a father.”

“I’m not. I’m not married yet either but I would like to settle down and start a family fairly soon. I feel it’s about time.” Draco looked up at Potter coyly from under his eyelashes. “I had been thinking about adopting but, of course, if the right man came along, I wouldn’t mind carrying our babies myself.”

Potter’s lips parted very slightly and his eyes darkened. Draco held his gaze for a moment longer and then looked away as the waiter appeared with their wine. It didn’t do to over egg things right at the start. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Potter was still eyeing him speculatively. If everything carried on like this, Potter would be on his knees proposing before the house was finished. Draco rather liked the idea of Potter on his knees…

For the rest of dinner, Draco kept the conversation light. They discussed various ideas for the design of the house and Draco described the plot of land he had bought, unaware that, as he did so, his eyes shone and his face lit up. He did notice that Potter was gazing at him in a most encouraging manner and his heart rose.



It was late summer and the evening was still light and warm when they finished their meal. Draco agreed eagerly when Potter suggested they take a look at the land. He apparated them there, vividly conscious of Potter’s solid heat next to him and was disappointed when Potter moved away on their arrival.

The spot Draco had chosen for his house was remote and unplottable; as he had explained to Potter over dinner, he liked his privacy. It was also hidden from muggles, not that many would have been likely to find their way there. He had purchased just over a hundred acres; not a vast estate but enough so there were extensive grounds that one could roam around in and with space for a Quidditch pitch if necessary.

Forest covered a large portion of the land and it was just on the edge of the tree-line that Draco thought the house would look good, although he was willing to leave the details of the location to Potter.

“I’d say just about here,” Potter said, indicating the spot that Draco thought was right. Draco nodded, thrilled with this further proof of how in-tune with each other they obviously were.

Potter looked around and then pulled out his wand, resting it on his palm and murmuring something under his breath that made it spin round to a different direction.

“North is over there,” he said, pointing in the same direction as his wand, “so it’ll work pretty well to have the house here. The main rooms can face south and then they’ll get the sun for most of the day.”

He looked around again at the landscape, lit up by the gradually setting sun, and then turned to Draco.

“It’s an idyllic spot,” he said, smiling. “You have good taste.”

Draco returned the smile like a cat contemplating a large bowl of cream.

“Oh,” he replied, “I know. Exceptional taste.”



They arranged to meet the following day, which meant that Draco, for once in his life, was up early, again worrying over what to wear. It should be something casual, since Potter was only coming over to Draco’s flat to try out designs, but Draco wanted to continue the good work of the previous evening without being too obvious.

Eventually, after half his wardrobe had been discarded on the floor, he settled on grey trousers and a cream coloured shirt. The soft colours suited his colouring and the style was casual but elegant – just right for a bit of at-home seduction.

Draco checked his thoughts there. He wasn’t trying to seduce Potter, at least, not into bed, not yet. His goals were rather more long term. He looked in the mirror anxiously and, finally concluding that his outfit wasn’t giving off anything as blatant as fuck-me-now vibes, went out into the sitting room to await his guest.

Potter arrived promptly at the agreed time and with a disconcertingly business-like air. He seemed to have gone into professional mode and Draco silently bemoaned the waste of his lovely outfit on someone who didn’t seem to be appreciating it.

However, Potter’s professionalism didn’t last long; it swiftly turned to exasperation.

“Malfoy,” he exclaimed at last, “we’ve been through half a dozen designs, each of them entirely different and you don’t like any of them, even though you were the one who specified all the details.”

Draco looked up at him with large eyes and Potter softened a little.

“Don’t you have any idea what you really want in a house?” he asked.

“I am trying,” Draco said petulantly. “I just want it to be perfect.” There was a moment’s silence. “Can we do another one now?”

Potter sighed and pulled a blank piece of parchment towards himself.

“All right.”

Draco was fascinated by Potter’s method of designing a house. It was no wonder he was the best at what he did or that all his clients raved about how wonderful his houses were.

At the start, he had explained briefly to Draco how it worked, although, as he said, he didn’t understand all the ins and outs of the spells he used; he just knew that they worked. The process seemed to be a combination of a pensieve-related spell that pulled an image out of Potter’s mind and put it onto parchment and an editing spell that was inspired by muggle computer programs. This allowed the image to be changed as often as was needed and details like doors and windows added and removed and altered in size and shape.

Potter looked at Draco now and said,

“Well?”

Draco had been staring at Potter, admiring his features and his wonderfully messy hair and not paying attention to anything else.

“What?” he said, confused.

“I need an idea to start with,” Potter replied gently, as if he was talking to someone who didn’t speak much English.

“Oh!”

Draco thought for a minute.

“White. I want it big but not too big – I’ve always felt dreadfully lost in the Manor – with Gothic windows and turrets. Sort of like Hogwarts, only smaller.”

He turned to Potter in triumph. Potter looked rather dubious but shrugged and placed his wand to his temple, whispering an incantation and drawing a silver wisp down onto the parchment.

Draco looked at the design and frowned.

“It’s not right. Perhaps with those windows higher up.” Potter obeyed, changing the design. “No, get rid of that turret. Put it over there. I think the colour’s wrong – make it grey stone instead. And add an extension on this side. Maybe the other side…”

Potter was starting to clench his jaw again. It made him look frightfully masculine and dangerous but Draco wasn’t sure he was endearing himself to Potter. He decided to be decisive.

“Right. I know what I want.” He hesitated. “Er… I want a veranda along here and another storey over this part, topped with a turret.”

He looked at the ground plan, which had acquired a very peculiar shape, and pointed.

“This can be the dining room and the drawing room can go here and the library here… no that’s too small. It had better go over here and this end of the house can expand out.” He was getting into it now and turned back to the exterior view.

“I don’t like the front door like that, perhaps one with a round arch. Oh no, that’s dreadful! Change it back. French windows over there, so the drawing room opens out directly into the garden.”

“That’s the library,” Potter said quietly.

“Oh. Where’s the drawing room, then?”

Potter indicated it.

“Yes, put them there, then.” He put his head on one side and looked at it. “Yes, I don’t think there’s anything else that needs changing.”

Potter sighed and pushed the parchment over to him so he could see the whole thing properly.

“Are you happy with it this time?”

Draco examined it in silence for a moment and then bit his lip.

“It’s awful!” he exclaimed. “It’s not my house at all; I could never live in something like that.”

For a moment, he thought Potter was going to get angry or strangle him or something. Then Potter laughed and shook his head.

“You really are something else, Malfoy,” he said ruefully. Draco wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment. “Why don’t you have a look at some of the houses in here?” He produced a folder. “They’re just general designs but they might give you some ideas.”

He stood up and moved towards the fireplace.

“Why are you leaving?” Draco asked worriedly.

“I just need a quick break from this,” Potter said with a reassuring smile. “If I use those spells too much in quick succession, it gives me a bit of a headache. I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” He pointed at the folder. “Have a look and see if you like anything.” He disappeared in a burst of green flame and Draco sat back to examine the contents of the folder.



As Potter re-emerged from the floo, Draco looked up, his expression a mixture of excitement and impatience.

“I’ve found it!” he exclaimed. “It’s perfect and it doesn’t need anything changing and it’s the house I’ve always dreamed of, even though I couldn’t really see it before, if that makes sense.”

Potter smiled and stepped forward, holding out his hand.

“Let’s see, then.”

“It’s even the right colour,” Draco continued as he handed the parchment over, “and I never would have thought of blue for the outside of a house but it really works.”

Potter’s smile faltered and he stared at Draco.

“Blue?” he asked faintly.

He looked at the drawing for a long moment and then drew in a deep breath. Suddenly, everything seemed to require a great effort for him.

“You think it’s perfect?” he asked, looking up at Draco with slightly too bright eyes.

Draco stared at him in confusion.

“Yes. It’s just what I want. Isn’t it–”

“That’s fine,” Potter interrupted, forcing a smile onto his face. “Brilliant. Glad that’s settled. I’ll…” He swallowed. “I’ll get the paperwork together and then we can see about… starting the process of building.”

He gathered the various pieces of parchment that were scattered across the table together and shoved them into the folder.

“I’ll, um, be in touch,” he said quickly and shot through the fireplace faster than Draco had ever seen anyone go through.



It was just that he had been feeling out of sorts, Potter explained two days later when he came by with the contract and detailed plans. As he had said, those spells gave him a headache and that always made him grouchy. He said it very convincingly and was then so enthusiastic in explaining the process of building a house that Draco almost believed him. Still, if Potter didn’t want to tell him what was bothering him, he wouldn’t press it. For now, anyway.



Draco was surprised to find that Potter used house elves as the main labour force during the actual building of the house. When he remarked on what Granger’s attitude to this might be, Potter laughed and said that they were all free elves who worked for a salary.

They happened to be at the building site at the time so Draco, in the spirit of scientific inquiry, snapped his fingers at a passing elf.

“You!” he said. “Fetch me a drink.”

The elf made a rude gesture at him and continued on its way. Draco turned to find Potter biting his lip, trying to stifle a laugh.

“I’m afraid Hermione got at them just after I first took them on,’ he said. “She lectured them about standing up for their rights and most of them have ended up rather, um… assertive as a result.”

Draco raised his eyebrows.

“Granger’s a menace,” he commented. “I’m surprised the Ministry hasn’t tried to gag her.”

“Oh, they’ve tried several times but they never really stood a chance of succeeding.”

Draco watched the elves work silently for a few minutes.

“I hope my elf never meets Granger. Posey’s enough of a trial as it is. I can’t imagine what would happen if she was assertive as well.”



As the work on the house progressed, Draco made excuses to spend as much time as possible with Potter. It wasn’t difficult, since Potter was nearly always supervising at the house and it was natural for Draco to take an interest in the building work.

He was perplexed, though. Most of the time, Potter was friendly and amusing and flirted just as much as Draco did, standing close behind him to point out various features of the site or taking hold of Draco’s arm to steady him when they walked across uneven ground and rubble. At other times, he became pensive and withdrawn and would stare at the slowly-growing building with a look that Draco sometimes interpreted as anguish. Any attempts to find out what was wrong were gently rebuffed and Potter would then make an effort to put on a cheerful face and engage Draco in witty small talk.

Draco was always vividly conscious that there was a barrier of some sort between them. He didn’t know what it was or what he had done to put it there and, as the house took shape and started actually looking like a house, he began to despair of ever gaining Potter’s affections. They might have been getting to know one another but it wasn’t quite in the way that Draco wanted.



The two men stood a little way from the house, just where the ground rose up slightly and the view down to the building was best. They had just finished their tour; the house, which Draco had named The Blue House, was complete, decorated and furnished and all ready for Draco to move in. He was thrilled with it; it was exactly what he had wanted.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his eyes shining.

“Yes,” Potter said quietly. “It is.”

He was staring at the house with a strange abstracted look in his eyes. Draco sighed.

“Potter, what’s the matter? Ever since I chose that design, you’ve been acting as if one of the house elves had eaten your pet kneazle. I thought you’d be pleased that I’d chosen something I liked. What’s wrong with it?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. As you said, it’s perfect.”

“Well then...”

Potter glanced at him and then turned his eyes back to the house. After a long pause, he spoke.

“It was going to be mine. I mean, I designed it for myself. My ideal home that I would one day build when I had the time and found the right place. I don’t know how the plans got into that file; they must have been muddled up with the others.”

Draco was aghast. His stomach felt as if it had dropped out of the soles of his feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have–”

“It was the one you really wanted. I could see that nothing else would be right once you’d fallen in love with this house.” A slightly bitter smile crossed his face. “And I do have a reputation to uphold. No one has ever been left dissatisfied with the house I gave them. They never will be.”

“But…”

Draco didn’t know what to say. He knew he should say something; that he should try and put this situation right but Potter was right; he loved the house. He couldn’t possibly give it up without breaking his own heart. The land, too; he had found this place all by himself and it was special and what he’d always dreamed of and–

Potter turned to him, his face impassive, and held out his hand.

“My job’s done now so I’ll say goodbye. I hope the house is everything you hoped for. I think it will be.” He squeezed Draco’s hand tightly. “I wish you,” he paused, “a wonderful life.”

Draco looked up at him helplessly as Potter released his hand, stepped back and disapparated.

He sank down onto the grass and put his head in his hands. There was only one thing he could think.

“Bugger!”



From the moment he moved in, Draco knew what was wrong with the house. By itself, it was perfect and he knew he could be very happy living there but everyday he was conscious of the lack of Potter’s presence. It was Potter’s design and the rooms seemed made to fit his personality. Whilst Draco did feel at home, he also felt that he was living in an incomplete half-house. Without Potter there, it just wasn’t right.

The house wasn’t the only one to be affected by Potter’s absence.

Draco frequently went up to the spot where the two of them had stood and looked down at the blue rendered walls set against a backdrop of trees. It looked like a happy house from this distance and he could stand there and imagine that Potter was inside, that he might walk out of the French windows and beckon Draco to him. Draco would refuse to go at first; after all, he wasn’t a submissive little doll. Then he would come down a little way and Potter would come up a little and they would meet halfway and kiss and Draco’s life would be complete.

Every time he went out to look at the house, he ended up feeling depressed and that made him annoyed. Of course, it didn’t stop him from doing it.

After two weeks of feeling maudlin, Draco decided that enough was enough. The problem, he realised, was that he had given up on The Plan too easily. He had the house, he had been successful in getting Potter’s attention to start with and he now had something that meant a lot to Potter. There was no reason why he should not be successful if he persevered.

Having decided that it was possible to be too subtle and that confrontation was the best way to deal with Gryffindors, Draco was suddenly beset by doubts. He could have been totally wrong about Potter. He had been flirting with Draco but it didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to marry him. Draco had been imagining their life together for some time but the idea just might come as a bit of a surprise to Potter.

It was always easier, Draco had found, to make his mind up when he was in front of a mirror and the full length mirror in his bedroom was just right for this. He had psyched himself up for it; if he couldn’t confront his doubts head-on and defeat them, what hope did he have of confronting Potter?

He bit his lip and watched as his reflection did the same. The problem with being direct was that it didn’t leave any room for retreat. If Potter turned him down flat, as he had done once before, Draco would be humiliated. He didn’t think Potter was the sort to go around telling people but it wouldn’t make it much easier to bear.

There were other men in the world, of course; Potter wasn’t the only person that Draco could marry. He was probably not the best logical choice either, especially if Draco wanted someone who was obedient and respectable and things like that – the sort of person his mother would like and that his father wouldn’t try to have assassinated.

However, anyone else wouldn’t be Potter and the crux of the matter was that Draco didn’t mind in the slightest if Potter was stubborn and argumentative; he was the one Draco wanted. It might not work out between them in the end but Draco would give it a damned good try before he gave up and went for someone easier to live with.

No. He straightened his shoulders and stared defiantly at his reflection. Malfoys never settled for second best and there was no reason why he should now. Furthermore, he was a thoroughly spoiled brat and always got what he wanted. His parents would understand that.

Potter wouldn’t know what had hit him.



“I said the house is not right, Potter. Please pay attention.”

Draco stared imperiously down at Potter, who was sitting at his desk looking perplexed.

“But you said before that it was perfect and just what you wanted,” he replied, raking a hand through his hair.

“What I said was that I wanted a family house, which would be somewhere for me and… a partner to raise our children.”

Potter raised an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“A key component of that picture is missing. Of course, it will take up rather a lot of your time to put it right but I’m afraid that can’t be helped. You’ll just have to keep working at it for the rest of your life.”

Potter blinked a couple of times and then a gradual smirk began to grow on his face.

“Malfoy, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

Draco sniffed.

“I have no idea what goes on in your head, Potter. Not very much, I should think. What I am saying is that I need a partner and future father of my children and I expect you to provide me with one.”

Potter laughed softly, standing up and moving closer so that Draco was forced to look up at him. It really was most unfair that Potter was so tall now.

“I don’t remember that being in the contract.”

“Posey!” Draco snapped. A very small house elf appeared with a rather squeaky pop. “Fetch me the contract for The Blue House.”

The elf squeaked unintelligibly and disappeared, popping back into view a couple of seconds later with the contract in her hand.

Draco snatched it and waved her away, walking to the desk to pick up a quill. He scribbled something quickly on the parchment and handed it to Potter.

“It’s in the contract now,” he said, feeling slightly breathless. This was the moment of truth, when Potter could very easily laugh at him and throw him out.

Potter looked at the hastily scrawled words:

“…and agrees to provide Draco Malfoy with a permanent and devoted partner and co-parent to any future children.”

“Are you going to fulfil your contract?” Draco asked. “You said you didn’t want your reputation to suffer.”

Potter looked again at the contract and then at Draco, his expression thoughtful. Finally he smiled and tossed the parchment onto his desk, stepping up close to Draco, his eyes dark with amusement and promise.

“I’ve never left any client unsatisfied, Malfoy. I don’t intend to start now.”

Then Draco found himself being kissed fervently and, even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped it. Not that he did want to. Certainly not. Harry – he could be Harry now – was holding him tightly around the waist and his tongue was doing such wonderful things that Draco found himself unable to do anything except clutch at Harry’s shirt and kiss back as best he could.

As the movement of their mouths became more passionate, Draco suddenly had an urgent need to feel Harry’s skin. His fingers scrabbled at Harry’s shirt, finally finding an opening and diving inside.

“Wait,” Harry gasped, tightening his arms around Draco. There was the sudden squeeze of apparition and, when Draco looked at their surroundings, he found they were in his bedroom in The Blue House. Harry grinned at him wickedly and began to peel Draco’s garments off.

“I think the house needs christening. We’ll start in here.”



“I’m not going to ask you to marry me straight away.”

Draco turned his head to look at Harry, who was propped up on one elbow, facing him. Draco was lying on his front, a pleasant ache in his arse and limbs that he doubted would ever feel like arms and legs again.

“I don’t expect you to,” he replied drowsily.

“I’m not even guaranteeing that it will work out between us,” Harry added.

“It will.” Draco closed his eyes, a small contented smile on his face. “Two of my ancestors were Seers, you know.”

His smile widened into a lazy grin as Harry laughed softly.

“Draco–”

“I know it may not last,” Draco said, “But you can say that about any relationship.” He opened his eyes. “I’d like it if it did last.”

Harry trailed a hand down Draco’s back slowly.

“Me too.”

“Why didn’t you do anything earlier? You’ve had more than enough time.”

Harry shrugged.

“It didn’t really occur to me to make a move. I didn’t know you were so seriously interested and I’m not in the habit of shagging my clients. It makes one look rather unprofessional.”

“I should hope you don’t. But how could you not have known? I mean, I’ve been practically throwing myself at you and–”

“When was this? I think I’d have remembered you throwing yourself at me.”

Draco stared at him in dismay.

“Perhaps I’ve been a bit too subtle. I was trying so hard not to be blatant but I was sure you had noticed…”

“I always notice you. After all, I was obsessed with you during school and you’ve been my main and constant crush ever since I realised I was gay. And obviously I knew you were flirting with me but we’ve been flirting on and off for the past few years and I didn’t think you meant it. You have a flirtatious manner when you’re talking to most people.” Harry leaned over and kissed the back of Draco’s neck. “I’m flattered you think I’m worth chasing.” He kissed slowly down Draco’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry I’ve been so slow. Still, you’re definitely worth the wait.”

He moved then to cover Draco’s body with his own and Draco’s legs suddenly came back to life enough to move apart, giving Harry the space to settle himself between them. Harry fumbled for the lube and reached down to coat his cock before nudging it between Draco’s cheeks. Draco pushed his arse back against Harry as much as he could and sighed happily as he was entered once more.

“You know,” Harry murmured as he set up a gentle rhythm of thrusting, so different to their earlier frantic coupling, “I think you may just be right about us.”

Draco gasped as Harry found just the right angle.

“Good sex isn’t everything,” he managed.

“Of course not.”

Harry sounded far more composed than he ought to at this particular moment. Draco squeezed his inner muscles as hard as he could and was rewarded with a groan and a good hard thrust just where he wanted it.

“However,” Harry continued after a moment, “good, or even fantastic, sex is a good place to start.” He nipped at Draco’s neck. “A very good place.”

Then, Harry quickened his pace, all the while hitting that very good place inside Draco and the conversation was reduced to gasps and moans and breathy kisses, which was really a much more enjoyable means of communication.



~ One Year Later ~


“You bastard, Potter! Most people have to take potions for this to happen. But you never could stick to the rules, could you?”

“I’m sorry, Draco, but it’s not like I planned it. Besides, you said right at the beginning that you wanted children.”

I would have liked to know you were going to knock me up the duff before it happened.”

“Sorry, love.”

Pause.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“What’s that?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like a ring.”

“Twenty points to Slytherin. It’s an engagement ring.”

Pause.

“Well?”

“Well?”

“Do I get an answer?”

“Do I get a proposal?”

“My love, my life, mother of my children– Ow!”

“Watch it, Potter.”

“Sorry.”

Another pause.

“Well, get on with it, then.”

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Of course I will. I don’t want my children to be bastards.”

“Not any more than you are, you mean.”

“Potter, if you want to get lucky tonight, you– mmph!”

Long pause.

“Better?”

“Mmm.”

“Bed now?”

“Oh, yes.” 

End