In Search of What Comes Easy - Epilogue

[auselysium]

Title: In Search of What Comes Easy
Fandom: Harry Potter/QAF crossover
Part: COMPLETE!!
Rating: Over all NC-17. This chapter is R 
Pairings/Characters: Brian/Draco, Harry, Draco, Harry/Draco
Timeline: Post Deathly Hallows for HP. Pre 101 and beginning to overlap with S1 cannon for QAF.
Warnings: This story begins and ends with Brian/Draco - they are the OTP in this fic, but I hope you will appreciate the relationship between Harry and Draco too. M/M sex. Some violence.  This chapter: Switching!  (ie: topping from the bottom.), ridiculously romantic ending.  :)
Summary: Brian knows that Draco is a wizard. He knows about his shady past. But strangest of all, Brian also knows that he wants Draco in his life. But sometimes wanting something isn't enough.
And in case you hadn't guessed, I own NOTHING related to QAF or HP. I write for fun because Brian and Draco are hot together. :)

A/N:  Here we are.  It feels very strange to come to the end of this.  Because this truly is the end. I have learned so much through the process of writing these stories, from Nothing As it Should Be, all the way to now.  It has been over a year that I have been working with this pairing.  I think I have ruined QAF for myself because I can't imagine Brian being better off with any one but Draco.

I want to thank those of you who have read from the beginning.  Those of you who have commented so faithfully.  I want to thank those of you who have read through all in one go, spending hours of a your life with these stories.  I want to thank those of you, who like me, were too sheepish to post comments on stories, even though you came back daily to check for updates.  Every single one of you who has read a word of what I have written is special to me.  As I've said before, I started this story for me, but I finished it for all of you.  It has been your comments and your enthusiasm that have kept me motivated.  This story is as much yours as mine.

I would love to hear from everyone who has read this story.  I have never had a very clear idea of how many people have read this, but now would be the time to let me know if you have! :)

Please check out warnings for this chapter.  Sorry folks it had to happen. :) This is part 38 - it just made more sense to call it an Epilogue.  I hope you enjoy


~~Epilogue~~

From the archway that marks the entrance to the kitchen, Draco watches the party unfold around him. He rests his shoulder against the wall, his head tilting comfortably to the side, and lets his champagne flute dangle from between two fingers by his thigh.

It is Christmas Eve and a tree twinkles in the window. It‘s lights of white and gold are almost as spectacular as the lights of the city outside. There are candles lit all around the apartment and soft piano jazz playing over the stereo. The hum of good conversation and warmth from a roaring fire complete the scene. The party does not have the same splendor as the Christmas Balls his mother and father would throw at the Manor, but this is the first Christmas since he was 15 that Draco feels there is anything good to celebrate, so he finds it perfect nonetheless.

His mother is here, looking stunning in the ruby red cashmere turtle neck and trim black trousers Draco bought for her from Saks 5th Avenue for this very occasion. She had arrived the day after his attack, sweeping into his hospital room with panic on her face, blond strands flying from the knot at the base of her neck.

“My love.” She had murmured, pressing his lips to his brow. “What would I have done if I had lost you?“ Whether Harry had informed her or if it had just been a mother’s intuition, he does not know. But having her in New York the past three weeks has been a true blessing.

Draco had barely been able to get out of bed by himself in those first few days, unable to feed or bathe himself. He had never felt so helpless and it was a burden he didn’t dare place on Brian. So Narcissa had slipped in brilliantly. Caring for him with those same loving hands and gentle words that had tended his cuts and scrapes as a boy. It seems, that even as a man, there are times when only a mother’s touch will do.

She sits on the couch now speaking softly to Lindsay as Gus sleeps in her arms. He is swaddled in the blanket that Draco had given to Melanie the night he was born and the image of his mother with a baby in her arms looks right, some how. It is with a stab of sadness that Draco realizes this is the closest to being a grandmother she may ever be. The fact that she knows it and does not resent Draco for it makes it hurt all the more. But Lindsay, in her quiet wisdom, has realized this too. “The more people to who love my son, all the better for him,” she has said, welcoming Narcissa’s fussing and cooing with gentle smiles.

Over by the window, Emmett is talking with Jeb, their respective Southern accents becoming thicker the more animated they become. Ted and Ruby are next to them, talking about leather and all its various uses. Blaise stands by the fireplace with Debbie. Her cheeks are flushed red from wine, the fire light dancing and reflecting off her sequined top. Every once and a while, one of her raucous hoots will overwhelm the underlying murmur of the party, punctuating Blaise’s deep chuckles as he flirts harmlessly with her. Melanie is talking to Gwen and Reid, apparently making sure that Andretti, Dryer and Kinney is sufficiently represented before opening officially next month and Pansy is getting the dish on the exactly where to go for post-Christmas sales from Cynthia.

And not far off, but very much in their own world, are Harry and Michael. Their heads are tilted close, hips canted with subtle expressions of desire. Harry’s finger is hooked around one of Michael’s belt loops and Michael’s hand rests at Harry’s hip, his thumb having snuck under the hem of Harry’s shirt to find his skin.

Their relationship has been slow to develop, due mostly to the distance and their own inherent shyness, but develop it does. All starting that first night at the hospital.

"Michael." Draco had said, gulping, as Michael shuffled into the room behind Harry not long after he had woken up but after he knew he and Brian were partners once more. "What are you doing here?"

"I was at Brian's when Harry showed up."

"Needless to say my entrance required a bit of explanation. How are you feeling?" Harry had asked, making his way to the bed and kissing Draco's forehead softly.

Draco had ignored Harry’s question completely and looked wide-eyed at Brian. Stunned and a bit panicked. “You told him?”

Brian who was lounging in the chair beside Draco’s bed, had simply shrugged and said, "I figured it was time we told the children."

If Draco hadn’t been so caught up in his own joyful reunion with Brian, he would noticed the flush in Harry‘s cheeks, the little furtive looks and the glint in his eye even then.

That same sparkle is in his emerald eyes tonight. And they look at Michael with those soft, lingering looks of one who, if not already in love, very soon will be. It is all sickeningly Gryffindorish, but at the same time intensely beautiful.

After all. Harry finally has his boy next door and Michael, his super hero.

Michael is the only non-wizarding person at the party who knows about magic and he has embraced his top-secret information with all the gusto of a young boy who has just been invited to join a secret club. So far, all the magical folk have been on their best behavior. Not one accidental spell or mention of dragon wrangling. Of course, the night is young and there is much more alcohol left to drink. But Draco had warned them , “The first idiot who uses magic doesn’t get to leave until he or she has Oblivated the whole lot of them." They certainly seem to have taken it to heart.

“Hey there, angel, what are you doing hiding in here?”

Draco looks up, smiling as Debbie walks in through the opposite door, an empty wine glass in hand. She is clearly looking for a refill.

Draco pushes himself off the wall and reaches for the pinot noir bottle, her drink of choice for the evening.  He pours a perfect serving of the rich wine into her cup twisting the bottle at the end to avoid any dripping.

“Not hiding. Just taking a breather,” He says. He brings the bottle up to eye level to calculate how much is left. Realizing there isn’t enough for another full serving, he simply tops off Debbie’s glass.  Etiquette be damned. “Being the host with the most isn’t as easy as it looks.”

His recovery has been slow going. After effects of the curse linger, even three weeks later. There is continued sensitivity to his skin. Occasional flashes of residual dark magic that burn through his body, momentarily immobilizing him with pain. There are frequent nightmares, ones where he hears Harry running down the street towards him but can never quite reach him. Or dreams where he wakes up at the hospital and Brian is not there. The latter being the worse. His first meeting with the psychologist is just after the first of the year.

He knows he must simply be patient, that in time all lingering effects will be gone, but that time cannot come soon enough.

Debbie cups his face. “It’s understandable, sweetheart. After what happened to you.” She shakes her head. “At least they caught the fucker who mugged you.”

That is what the Pittsburgh gang thinks: that he had been mugged. Beaten and robbed, but nothing worse. It had been upsetting enough for them simply thinking that. Especially for Debbie, who takes any attack on one of her boys as an attack on herself. Telling them the little white lie had been Brian’s idea. They didn’t need to know that the Auror’s had officially logged the attack as a “Hate crime as part of a terrorist organization.”

The morning after the attack, once Draco had finally convinced Brian to go home and get some proper sleep, Chief Menlo had arrived with some other senior Aurors, one of which was wearing the flannel-grey robes of the Federal Aurors. The Chief had looked delightfully smug, which made Draco nervous.

The Chief had informed him that Perry is, in fact, not named Perry at all, but Petrenka Dimov and that he had been a member of a Bulgarian splinter group of dark wizards. They took it upon themselves to eliminate any wizard who “gave dark magic a bad name” across the world and so, after the war in England ended, they had set out to kill all former Death Eaters. The fact that they themselves used dark magic to achieve this, was not only twisted and ironic, but what made them so dangerous. Perry, or rather Petrenka, had been a junior member of a new cell working out of Hoboken, New Jersey that the Auror department had not even been aware of, so focused had they been on bringing down the cell in Brooklyn.

“Twenty minutes of questioning and he was singing a pretty song.” The chief had beamed. “We raided both locations this morning thanks to the information we got from him. We got ’em, Draco. We got all of ’em.” He had then gone on to applaud Draco for his quick action during the attack that allowed for Dimov‘s arrest.

“I hardly did anything, sir.“ Draco had said, looking down to where his hands were clasped in his lap. “I wasn’t exactly in the best shape for fighting. It was Harry, sir. He’s the one to be commended.”

The Chief had snickered. “You know, Mr. Potter said the exact same thing. That even though you were bleeding and certainly in immense pain, you fired off a tripping jinx that slowed Dimov down enough for Mr. Potter to stop him. He said it was all you.” Draco had felt himself blush. “Either way, the Auror Corps owes you a great debt.”

“Enough to excuse me from my final exams next week? I don‘t think I‘ll exactly be up for them.”

“You take the time you need.“ The Chief had said, clapping him warmly on his back with one of his massive hands.

Debbie lingers in the kitchen, helping Draco refill a tray of canapés. Right before she heads back out into the living room, her eyes fall on Michael and Harry. She likes Harry and is happy to see her son with someone so kind but she is weary, as any mother would be. She does not want to see Michael hurt again, especially after a lifetime of pining after the wrong man.

“You think those two will be alright?” She asks, motioning towards them with her chin.

“Yeah.” Draco says softly, resuming his position of rest against the door. “They’ll be brilliant.”

He and Harry have not once revisited their conversation from the night of the attack. Nor has there been any discomfort with the end of their sexual tryst. All that needed to be said, was said. All the desire they held for each other had been acted upon. And their friendship has moved forward, even deeper and stronger than before. There was a time in Draco’s life where he wanted to be friends with Harry Potter. And when that offer was refused, he lived for a very long time disgusted by the idea. But now that things have changed, now that life has given him this friendship, he is never letting it go.

“Speaking of brilliant,” Debbie says a touch of sarcasm roughening up her voice, “Where is your brilliant co-host?”

“Boycotting, most likely.”

Debbie snorts. “He always has been a bit of a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas.”

“You wouldn’t be talking about me now would you?”

Brian walks into the room, bringing with him the familiar scent of Armani cologne and Dunhill cigarettes, along with something crisper and cooler which is most likely the brittle December air itself. He is still wearing his overcoat over a charcoal grey suit. A neat, plaid scarf tucked up high around his jaw. His cheeks are a rosy red from the cold, his hair tousled from the wind.

He looks gorgeous, as always. But Brian brings with him an extra radiance these days. Life in Manhattan agrees with him as there has been a vibrancy living in and around his eyes these days. A lightness, bordering on jubilance that lets him laugh more and drink less.

This is what Brian Kinney looks like with truly no regrets.

It hadn’t taken much work to regain his place with Gwen and Reid as a partner at the firm. They had after all, never really stopped pursuing him. He had put his loft on the market. Left Ryder without a second thought. Done all the things that he should have before the first time around. He had left Pittsburgh with promises he will be able to keep. With sadness but completely prepared for what comes next.

“Speak of the fucking devil,“ Debbie cackles, pulling Brian into a massive bear hug. Brian presses his cheek to Debbie’s red curls for a moment before lifting his eyes over the top of her head. His gaze takes on a physical weight as it falls on Draco.

“We were just discussing your general distain for Christmas.“ Draco says, meeting his eyes with a smile and resting back against the counter.

Brian breaks the hug with Debbie, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders. He is still wearing his brown leather gloves, his strong fingers wrapped in tight, supple leather. Draco can’t help himself. His mind immediately jumps to the image of those leather bound gloves stroking the length of his cock, sliding over his pecs, slapping his bare ass. God, what those hands could do.

“Any holiday where you are expected to give more than you receive is not a holiday for me.” Brian declares.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Draco drawls, languidly stretching his long legs out in front of him, his pelvis jutting up at an appealing angle as a result. Brian’s cheeks warm, his eyes narrow possessively. “You can be quite…generous.”

“That,” Debbie says stepping forward to pick up their refilled tray. She lifts it with familiar ease. “Is too much information, even for me.” She starts out towards the living room, but turns back to issue a final warning, making good use of her long, purple finger nails as she does. “I better see the both of you out there in five minutes. No sneaking back into one of the bedrooms for a quickie.”

“Yes, mom.” Brian drones with mock obedience, sliding over to put his arm around Draco. He gives her a charming smile, the one that she has never been able to resist and she leaves the room, muttering “Cocky little shit,” as she does.

The second they are alone, Brian pounces. Pinning Draco back against the cupboards with a husky growl. His mouth is open and warm, his tongue in frantic pursuit of Draco’s. Taking special care to splay his gloved hand across Draco’s jaw, running one calfskin thumb across Draco’s cheek.

He just saw Brian this morning, yet he melts beneath him as if he has not been touched in years. He gasps into Brian‘s mouth, his knees going weak.

It has been like this ever since Brian moved in the week previous. The passion that has been unleashed since they got back together is breathtaking. Every look, every touch, every kiss, is reckless and without control. As if their minds leave them and all that is left are these two bodies that crave each other so.

There had been nothing more in the world that Draco had wanted when he was first released from the hospital, then come back to this apartment and fuck Brian senseless. That single, first kiss had unleashed a flash flood of desire. Shedding light on a space that had felt forever in darkness. He wanted to do every tender, loving, passionate, filthy, dirty thing he could think of. He wanted Brian on every surface, in every room, in every position. And then he wanted to do it all over again.

But that had not been possible. His injuries simply would not let it be so.

By the time Brian moved to New York a few weeks later, Draco had felt recovered enough and nearly mad with desire that nothing was going to stop him. They had flung themselves on their bed. Feverish and frantic. And positively perfect. But then, like some virginal bride on her wedding night, when Brian had finally started to press inside him, the pain had been too much. Streaking through his gut, all the way up his spine and out to his finger tips. It had been so strong that even the intense pleasure at being with Brian again had not been enough to mask it.

“Fuck!” Draco had cried, curling onto his side, fists full of his own hair. “Fuck this! Fuck Perry and fuck his spell and fuck my stupid fucked up body!”

But Brian had not reacted with the same incensed frustration. He simply laid his long body out beside Draco‘s. Run his fingers through his hair. Pressed soft kisses his temple. Looked at him intently. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much as I want you tonight. And nothing, not Perry, not his fucking backwards bigotry, nothing is going to stop us.” And somehow, by the look in Brian’s eyes, Draco had believed him. “Lay back.” He’d ordered gently. “Tell me if it gets to be too much.”

Brian had explored his body as if for the first time. Watching in the low light of their room as he trailed delicate fingers over Draco’s skin. Alternating the soft pads of his fingers with the electric scratch of nails. He had touched him everywhere, without haste or purpose. He touched simply to feel. To reacquaint. It didn’t matter if his cock got hard, even though it had. This wasn’t about sex, it was about the feel of Brian’s skin on his, the patience of his ministrations.

After what had felt like hours, and it very well might have been, a lubed hand had tentatively circled his cock. Slowly spreading the satiny wetness up and down his length. Draco was reminded of a the first time he had felt a man’s hand on his body. How exposed and vulnerable he had felt, but also how good. Brian had stroked him, seeming to savor the way his cock would jump in his hand.

“So beautiful.” He had whispered, making Draco’s throat constrict.

Draco waited for the feeling one of those liquid fingers to slip lower, to press against his ass, trying to sneak their way inside before his body resisted. But instead he felt Brian’s body shift. Felt his strong thighs straddle Draco hips. Felt matching slickness in the cleft of Brian’s ass. Felt his hand wrap around the base of Draco’s cock to angle it just so.

“Bri-.” Draco had breathed, eyes crashing open. Stilling Brian before he did what he couldn‘t possibly be doing. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.“ He’d said, lips pressed but eyes blistering with determination. “I want to.”

It was only the next morning, sitting on the roof, the winter sun warming their skin while a heating charm took care of the rest, that Draco realized Brian hadn’t used a condom. He had clutched Brian’s hand as the realization and all that means swept over him, squeezing his hand too hard, staring at him with incredulous eyes. Brian had simply swept his thumb over the back of his knuckles and smirked into his coffee, “Wondered how long that was going to take you.”

They haven’t talked about whether barebacking is to be a regular occurrence or if had just been a temporary offer. Perhaps that doesn’t really matter. Perhaps all that matters is in that one moment, Brian had been willing to put aside his ego, his identity, his hidden desires, his secret insecurities simply because that is what Draco needed. He had been able to wrap all those things up in the trust that has formed between them and place it reverently in Draco’s waiting hands. Perhaps it is enough for Draco to have felt weight of another person's soul residing inside him, twisted up with his own just once in his life.

Draco‘s mind snaps back to the present and the fact that Brian has just gotten his fly unzipped. “Stop,” he gulps.

“Don’t want to stop.” Brian makes a lunge for his neck.

“Brian!” He laughs brightly, as the brush of Brian’s lips tickle near his ear. He uses Brian’s lapel to push him away. Just far enough so he meet Brian’s eyes, dark and lustful. “You promised Debbie, remember?” Brian runs his tongue slowly over his lips. They are red and swollen and Draco questions his sanity for stopping him.

“Fine.” Brian finally acquiesces with a grumble. He does up Draco‘s trousers with a quick zip. “But don’t blame me for your blue balls.”

Draco rolls his eyes, picking up an empty champagne flute and filling a glass for Brian as he takes off his overcoat and drops it over the back of a chair.

“Only you would be late to your own Christmas party.” Draco comments lightly, passing the glass to him.

“I know.” Brian says dramatically. “I‘m the host from hell.” He takes a sip, nodding his head with approval at Draco‘s choice of vintage. But then he points the glass at Draco. Not looking very menacing when his weapon is a crystal champagne flute. “This is the last fucking time we let Parkinson decorate our place. Are you aware that she put fucking tulle swag on my Mies Van De Rhoe dinning table? Does she have any idea how much that table is worth?”

Draco cocks his head, giving him a dry look.

“She put it up with a spell, Brian. Your table’s not been injured.”

“That’s not the point! It looks like Martha Stewart and Saint Nick vomited all over our apartment.”

Our place. Our apartment. We.

It still feels strange to hear those words slip so easily from Brian’s lips. Even stranger when those words are book ended by words like I, love and you. It almost seems to good to be real.

Just the night before, lying loose limed, heavy and sweaty the fear had overwhelmed him. He had been tangled up with Brian and their damp sheets, his head resting in the crook of Brian‘s elbow. With Brian‘s hand stroking his hair back off his sweaty brow he had felt so safe and yet so very fragile. Like his whole existence was a figment of his imagination and could be blown away with just the slightest breeze. It was not the panic of uncertainty, but the panic of intensity. He had loved Brian before, but it is nothing in comparison to now.

“I can‘t lose this again, Brian.” He had whispered, eyes focused on the ceiling. “I don’t think I could manage.”

Brian had breathed deeply, almost as if he knew this conversation was bound to occur. “I’m not going to make promises to you just because that is what you want to hear.”

Brian’s bluntness had felt like a slap in the face. Not fitting into that moment of soft touches and plain emotion. Draco had tried to sit, completely stunned and not a little pissed off. But then Brian’s hand had been tight on his forearm and his voice had been calm.

“Look, you once told me that all you want from me is the truth and that‘s what I‘m giving you.” After a moment, Draco had allowed himself to be pulled back into Brian‘s arms. “This feels good."  He'd whispered, arms tensing around Draco's chest.  "It feels fucking good. I can’t imagine a time in my life when it won‘t but… I freaked out once. I don‘t plan on doing it ever again, but I‘m still me.” He had been silent for a moment. “And who knows…you’re only twenty years old, maybe next time it will be you who questions all this.”

“I would never…” Draco had insisted, but Brian had pushed him back against the bed. Cutting him off with a kiss before any further vows he has no way of guaranteeing had been issued.

“You love me.” Brian had said, "And I love you.” He had pressed his palm to Draco’s chest, fingers splayed wide and long over his heart. “Let that be enough.”

And of course it is.

If Draco knows nothing else about his future, he knows that he will constantly be amazed by what Brian is capable of. How complex and genuine this seemingly shallow and emotionally stunted man truly is. Brian hasn‘t changed. Not really. He has only allowed what was always within him to be revealed. Opening up as Brian has in the past year would have broken a lesser man, left them confused and reeling, not knowing who they were or what mattered anymore. But it has only left Brian more confident. More complete.

Draco saunters over to where Brian is picking through a bowl of nuts, taking out only the almonds and tossing them in his mouth. He slides his hand over Brian’s waist, his hand sneaking beneath his suit coat.

“Don’t blame Pansy. Her parents are new money. They always had a tendency to be a bit gauche.”

Brian looks up, eyes sparking. He swallows. “You are such a snob.”

“Never said I wasn’t. But this is a Christmas party, Brian.” Draco gestures at the apartment. “There is a tree and lights and holly and ivy and yes, fucking tulle swag on your Mies Van de Rhoe table.” He grabs fists full of Brian‘s dress shirt and pulls his hips forward with a forceful tug. “Get the hell over it.”

“Fuck Christmas.” Brian states, keeping up his curmudgeonly exterior. But Draco can see the smile he is trying to fight off.

“Oh come on. You can’t hate it that much.”

“I can and I do.”

“Well you won’t once you see what I got you.”

One of Brian‘s brows arches high. His interest clearly piqued. Draco reaches into his pocket and tosses a set of keys, tied up with a red, glittering ribbon to Brian. They jangle brightly as Brian catches them in his palm. He lets them dangle from his pointer finger, looking at the keys and then back up at Draco. A boyish twinkle in his eyes that leaves him looking very young.

“These aren’t…”

They are. Keys to a 1971 Corvette Stingray. Brian had been pining over it for months. Draco shrugs ambiguously.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Draco examines his finger nails as he tries to hide how ecstatic he is at Brian‘s reaction. “The jeep was just so…Pittsburgh. The neighbors were starting to talk.”

Brian steps in front of him, his fingers slipping through his fair hair to clasp his neck. He rests his forehead against Draco‘s. “I love having such a offensively rich boyfriend like you.”

“We’ll have to take it for a spin later once the party is over.”

“I’m not letting you drive my Corvette.” He says smoothly.  He sways them gently to the music, the piano now plunking out a sexy samba. Clearly you can take Brian out of the dance club, but you can never take the dance club out of Brian.

“Oh yes you fucking are or I‘m keeping it for myself.”

Brian looks at the keys, shaking his head then slips them into his pocket. He takes a deep breath. “This could be a problem though.”

“Why?”

“It just makes what I got you look really…small.”

“You got me something?” Draco asks, well and truly surprised. Seems Scrooge learned the meaning of Christmas after all.

Brian nods, reaching into his coat pocket pulling out a small box. It is a very Slytherin shade of green leather, a gold crown pressed into the top. Brian watches expectantly, lips pressed, as Draco opens it.

“Merlin, Brian.” He breathes looking down at a stunning new Rolex watch. He takes it out, fingering the burnished metal. It feels heavy for its size. Platinum then. The numbers are roman numerals etched into a black onyx face. It is a stunning watch and Draco is speechless.

“I...got it engraved.”

Brian’s voice is soft yet rich. Reflecting a bit of his own surprise at having done something so sentimental. He averts his eyes back down to the floor when Draco’s flashing eyes catch his.

He turns the watch over.

2/6/2000

“That’s…the day we met.”  Brian nods, shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets.

A jolt of amazement clenches around Draco‘s heart. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget the day someone came along and completely fucked with my life?”

Draco arches a pale brow, his lips curving. “And by ’fucked with’ you really mean ‘changed for the better‘?”

“Better than I could have ever dreamed.”

Brian looks at him, eyes so plain and sincere that Draco feels his breath still in his chest. He kisses him, chaste but lingering. He closes his eyes, needing to let his sense of touch take over during the kiss. But also needing to escape that naked look in Brian’s eyes before his emotions get the best of him.

“Thank you, Brian.” He says a moment later as he slips the watch over his hand. It is even more stunning on.

“I almost forgot,” Brian says as he takes Draco’s hand into his. “I had Harry put a spell on it. This button here will activate it.” He pushes a small knob on the opposite side of face plate than the others. A fourth hand appears on the dial, vibrant green and glowing. It indicates a time forty-five minutes in the future.

“So…it’s a charm that indicates three quarters of an hour from the present time?” Draco asks confused. Brian shakes his head, taking a step forward. His lips brush gently against Draco’s ear as he whispers.

“It’s charm that tells you the next time I make you cum.”

Draco gasps, eyes fluttering. A shiver of arousal travels up and down his spine. By the time he reopens his eyes, Brian is sauntering out into the living room. He looks back over his shoulder, a devilish, wicked smile on his face. He nods at Draco and taps his wrist as if he too will be counting down the minutes. And Draco wonders if he’ll actually be able to hold out forty-five minutes.

A small cheer erupts over the party as they see Brian. The man of the hour is finally here. Emmett claps and Ted raises his glass. Even Michael tears himself away from Harry long enough to give Brian a wave. Brian however walks straight over to Lindsay, kissing her briefly on the cheek. Narcissa stands and he bends down to kiss her as well. Her arms are still full of a sleeping Gus and she hands the precious bundle over to him.

Brian has always looks so natural with Gus. Never having that new father hesitation that is so common among men. He tucks his son against him, his perfectly sculpted arms - those same arms that hold back Draco’s thighs as he pounds into him - suddenly making the perfect cradle for Gus’s small body.

Everyone in the world who matters to Draco is here. It’s been less than a year and yet his life is nothing like those dark days in Pittsburgh. So far from the frightening days of the war. So bloody different than his uncertain years at Hogwarts. It is nothing like he imagined and yet it is everything he never knew he wanted.

He senses Brian watching him and turns his head to catch Brian’s warm stare. His eyes seem to hold the same feelings of wonder and gratitude as Draco. And in the midst of the noise and commotion of the party, they connect with stillness. With commitment. With certainty. With something that goes beyond love to the realm of unity. Oneness. They realize that this thing between them is forever.  And in that moment they both know it. Acknowledge it. Agree to it.

Draco leans back against the kitchen archway once more. His body no longer weary but completely at peace. He crosses his arms, the watch cool and heavy around his slender wrist. He smiles softly. Takes a deep breath and sighs.