This story, going through many many turns of writing and rewriting and writer's block, was done for a dear friend of mine. The one and only SensiblyTainted and her drarry story, Freedom Found in Defiance, which is actually a sequel to its origin story, Freedoum Found in Chains. This story was based off a scene that happened in Freedom Found in Defiance that was so beautiful, touched me so much, that I had to be make a story scene e off it.

Also, Sensibly, I thought it would be the perfect belated Valentine's day/birthday present. I tried to replicate your incredible writing style, as well make certain scenes hot, but alas. You are you, I am me, and writing styles are unique to each person. Still, I hope you enjoy it. Just as I hope there isn't that many spelling mistakes. I tried, i tried. I hate editing so much.

To the lovely readers, I feel the need to give the warning. Since this story is based off a scene to another story, it's better and easier if you're familiar with the actual story. If not, I tried to give enough background to smoothen out the confused bumps you may hit along the way of reading. But I do advise if you're not familiar/haven't read Freedom Found in Chains, just try to follow along. I also recommend if you haven't checked Freedom Found in Chains or any of SensiblyTainted's works, please please please give them a try. I must warn though some of her stories, that one in particularly carries dark and heavy themes that can be triggering-I won't lie-and heartwrenching. However her writing is incredible, and the way she writes drarry remains to be one of the best I've seen

Freedom Found in Love

"One day, Harry, you will wear this dress or one like it in front of the world. And everyone will understand what you are to me. What we are to each other. I'll marry you. I'll take you as my bride. And the world will know you're mine and no else's.

-Freedom Found in Defiance, chapter 43

Impossible as it may have seemed back then, he had no doubt it would happen.

Harry had known, even at the age of eleven, just as he did at the age of six when they first met, that Draco would make it happen. Despite the fact they seemed to have numerous obstacles threatening to separate them, to break them, to destroy them. Despite the fact it was such an outrageous promise to make at only eleven years old. Despite the fact those close to them, while supportive of their relationship, still worried over how intense their bond was with the two boys being so young. Harry knew once Draco made a promise, especially to him, he would never break it.

Yet still, it felt like a dream. A beautiful, sweet dream that had to be one of the most wonderful, incredible creations his mind had put together.

Even with the swell of the music playing down below, the strings of the violin, the airy twirling of the flutes as the band went through a quick practice session before it began. Even with the buzzing of feet walking, quests chatting as they made last-minute checkups or touchups while making their ways to their seats. Even as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. It all still felt like a dream, even eleven years later. A dazzling dream he was sure he'd be waking up from any second now.

Especially when he looked in the mirror.

Over the years Harry had worn countless dresses. Beautifully simple, ridiculously in detail (and sometimes expensive too, at Draco's request), and some that were so stunningly sultry that those dresses usually found their way to the floor, either slowly peeled away or savagely torn off before Draco had his wicked way with him, forgoing their original evening plans altogether. But none came close to this one. Not even the dazzling gown gifted to him by the goddess of winter during Draco's trial during mid-winter of their first year, which lead to Draco making that promise.

This dress, this look was the staggering, awe-inspiring embodiment of wonder and dreams.

Done in the purest shade of white, like layers of clouds pulled from the sky and woven together into fabric. The rumpled bodice attached to a fully layered skirt of tulle that would've been simple if not for the stream of white butterflies lined along his hips, trailing down the front and back of his top. Connecting to the mass gathered at the end, leading to a wide train of butterflies. So many butterflies as if they were his people and he their leader, ready to fly him away.

His hair was left in its usual, tussled lion mane, wild inky-black curls framed around his face. He debated his for the longest time what he wanted to do with his hair. Have it up? Leave it down? Make it longer? Ultimately he decided to leave it the way it was, but add a bit of touch-up to his curls. For his eyes, though, he decided to forgo his glasses and use a spell to make his vision clear for the day. Somehow the spell enhanced his eyes, making them appear bigger, more wide-set. Although a part of him suspected it had to do with the excitement rippling inside him, along with the dark eye-liner and lashes he added.

That was the only makeup he added to his face, along with the lipstick. His lips were painted in the most vivid, striking shade of red. Red, like the perfect dress. Red, like spilled blood. Red, like the crown of fully-bloomed scarlet roses Hermione was carefully placing onto his head.

"Hold still, Harry. I don't want to mess it up." She warned.

"You won't." Harry assured with a smile, turning his head back slightly.

Hermione huffed as she handled the flowered crown, as if it were a precious heirloom, and leveled him with a playful glare. "You and I both know if a single thing, especially concerning you, goes wrong today Draco will find the source of disruption and do his own special arrangements." Hermione stepped back to examine his hair and fluffed up the ends, adding extra bounce to the curls. "From fingernail to arm socket."


"First with his bare hands, next his teeth, then with his magic, and then again with his teeth for extra measurement."

"Well-" Harry tried again but Neville, who had been lounging by the chair close to the mirror, chose that time to speak up.

"And finish off the poor soul with a hammer." A shudder went through Neville's body at the image. "Just for kicks."

Hermione nodded solemnly in agreement. Harry pursued his lips together to hold in his chuckle. Much as he wanted to and probably should've argue against it, he couldn't exactly deny his claim. Draco did in fact possessed a very vindictive streak.

From the faint trickle of amusement he could feel running down their bond, Harry knew he was right to stay silent.

Amusement must have crept into his face. It was only explanation for sudden irritation splashing onto Hermione's face, although it slowly chipped away as she styled his hair and helped retouch his lipstick. When she was finally done, she took a step back, her expression of pure wonder.

"Oh Harry," she breathed, tears misting in her dark eyes.

At least she managed to keep them at bay. Neville, on the other hand, was furiously wiping his own away, ruining the material of his fine white shirt.

Not that Harry could blame him, either of them in fact. He could feel own tears building inside, threatening to spill over. He played with the worn black choker tied around his neck, his security blanket, his anchor, his few physical bonding attachments to Draco. It was the only piece of jewelry he had on, with the exception of the ring that would soon grace his finger.

At the height of their earlier wedding plans, when he was finalizing his look, Narcissa looked less than pleased with his decision.

"Only the choker?" A small frown marred her pretty face. "Are you sure that you don't want to add anything, darling? Earrings, such as pearls or-"

"It's Harry's decision." Draco cut in, one arm draped across Harry's shoulders. The soft touch of his fingers as he played with Harry's hair a sharp contrast to the pointed glare in his eyes while he stared at his mother. "His day. So whatever he wants, he gets."

Narcissa's frown had deepened, but she said nothing else.

Besides, Draco added silently. I love seeing you in that choker.

The choker was a must. He couldn't see himself parting with it, especially on a day like this. He was almost scared that it would be lost in the scheme of dress and veil. Looking at his reflection, all three versions of himself in the several full-body mirrors, he saw it was the perfect finishing piece. The dark material of the choker both struck against and worked perfectly with the white dress, while at the same time the black color emphasized the vivid red of his crown.

Dear Merlin.

Harry's hand slowly dropped from the choker, lying limply by his side.

Back then in the first dress, he felt like a holy maiden to the goddess who assisted them during their winter solstice trial. Pure and divine. Now he felt like a fragment of a wondrous dream, to a world where gender meant little in terms of beauty. Like the mortal incarnate of Persephone, Lady of Spring and Queen of the Underworld.

Perhaps no longer pure, but still utterly divine. He could feel power radiating from his pores.

Emotions set off inside him like bubbles brimming from a champagne bottle. Wonderment from the radiant image staring back at him. Shock puncturing through like a drill over the reality of what was happening. Joy bursting like the sun. In a repeated chain of rhythm-WONDER JOY ATONISTMENT HAPPINESS- with a smudge of anxiety crawling through, like a worm crawling from its hole.

Since the day Draco made that vow in Remus's tiny cabin, Harry dreamt of their wedding. Seeing himself dressed in white, in a beautiful gown no less, looking as majestic as he always dreamt of being, any hint of doubt that this was a dream entirely vanished.

This was real. This was actually happening.

Did you doubt me? There was a small hint of teasing, but Harry picked up on the worry lingering to the thought.

Never! Harry's silent reply was fierce as a scream. Not once had he ever doubted Draco. Not when he made that vow of them getting married someday. Not when he swore that they would take down Voldemort together. Not when he swore he would find a way to separate Voldemort's essence from Harry's magical cord. Not even the night they first met, two broken boys, one molten from rage, the other brittle from pain, and Draco promised he'd always take care of Harry.

Good. The purr of satisfaction rumbled through the word, causing a smile to unfold across Harry's face. Because why?

Because you never break your promise.

Good boy. The praise sent a familiar pulse of excitement down Harry's body. Along with the spike of Draco's magic reaching, brushing against his skin like invisible fingers. Always so good to me, Harry.

Harry felt heat rushing to his face and tried to ward off the warmth, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths. Still that heat blazed.

A good boy who I have no doubt, Draco continued, his words an arousing coon in his ear as if he were standing right beside Harry. Looks beautiful.

A different but very much intense heat stirred inside Harry, burning his cheeks bright red, tightening the muscles of his stomach. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione and Neville trading looks as she smoothen out the butterfly train of his dress.

Harry tried to keep his composure, but it was hard. Especially as he felt those finger-like threads of magic drift from his cheek and down his back, pressing firmly against it, sending bolts of pleasure from his sensitive points. Harry bit his lip to hold in his moans.

I can't wait until tonight, Draco continued, his delight beaming like rays from the sun. When I see just how beautiful you are. Up close and personal.

Those magical threads moved dangerously closer, slipping through the dress's fabric with ease, one thread slipping through his arse crack, brushing against his hole. Harry bolted, nearly toppling off the stool he had been perched on. He clamped down on his tongue to hold in the startled gasp that nearly burst out.

And pull apart that lovely dress layer by layer. Draco's magic brushed against Harry's hole in a longer, slower sweep, crumbling his resistance like paper. My little present to unwrap.

Harry wasn't sure if it was the clashing heat building up between the two, even rooms away, his sensitivity running on high, or desire crushing common sense, but it was almost as if Draco was right there in the room with him. Pressed against Harry's back, his fingers teasing him, mouth whispering dark promises into his ear.

And after that, I'll tear the fucking wrappings apart and eat my gift whole.

Heat swarmed into the pit of his stomach, bursting into a firestorm when Harry felt a ghostly sting of teeth digging into his ear, biting into his flesh. At the same time a lighter touch cleaved through his chest, over his sensitive buds rising underneath his bodice

Harry stepped forward and leaned his head against the mirror, hoping that Hermione and Neville were too lost in their private conversation to notice how flustered he became. The cold touch of the mirror helped cool down a bit of the heat, bringing back some form of clarity. And an idea.

Their bond, no matter how far, worked both ways. What one thought, the other heard. What one felt, the other did as well. And it wouldn't be right for Harry to be receiving foreplay and not repaying Draco.

Taking in another deep breath, Harry stood straight and closed his eyes. He concentrated on Draco's back, lean muscles underneath porcelain white skin. The same back he spent two nights ago kissing, licking, touching. As he fell deeper into his concentration, he felt Draco's shock clanging against the bond.

A smirk curling his lips, Harry let his magic flow, shaping it into a slim finger that brushed against the skin in a slow, lazy caress. Then he expanded that magic into a hand, then two. They followed the finger's example of its slow, easy movement, starting at Draco's shoulders, gliding down his back, then moving over to the front.


He let his magic continue to play. Not just limiting them to slow, playful caresses, but expanded them into a mouth. A warm, wet mouth kissing along the length of Draco's cock he imagined was swelling with each lick. Soft butterfly kisses that were a ticking time-bomb to Draco's composure, breaking it away bit by bit. A warm mouth taking his entire cock in, enveloping him in its warm cocoon.

Damn! H-harry….God! Lust and tension battered along Draco's spine, surged through his system, coiling into a tight spring.

Slipping into the bliss of pleasure, feeling his own body grow heavy and warm, Harry commanded that mouth to move, sucking in and pulling, tightening that strained coil. Along with that, a tongue skated across the skin, brushing against the tip, creeping under the length. He brought back the hands to twist and squeeze whenever the mouth pulled back.

A loud boom slapped against the room, causing Hermione and Neville to jump. Harry's smirk grew into a full, all too pleasing smile. He suspected the source of that sound had to be a fist slamming against the wall in a desperate attempt to fight off a hard-on.

His theory was confirmed when he felt those magical threads coming back again, sliding up his neck in an almost gentle touch before latching onto his hair, tugging at it until his head was nearly bent back. Harry could see those eyes now. Startling silver locked onto his, roaring in a mixture of frustration and desire and approval.

You teasing little minx! Teeth bit into his neck. Harry clamped down on his teeth to hold in the groans humming inside him.

At the moment, he was completely oblivious to the company around him and only focused on the feeling, their shared pleasure, their bond. Breathing heavily, Harry's hands crept to his nipples that were practically sprouting out and shivered from the intense sensation that burst, shooting straight down to his center. The sensations doubled, feeling almost painful as a stronger force slammed into him, keeping him caged, as a stronger bite plowed deeper into his neck.

Seems I was wrong, Draco teased, dragging his teeth from Harry's neck to his ear, towing at the lobe. You're not just a good boy. You also have a naughty side to you.

I learned from the best.

His hair was pulled so hard, pain blossomed from the strands. Harry welcomed them eagerly, feeling himself growing warmer.

"Honestly, you two." Harry pulled away from their little game to look over at Hermione, who rolled her eyes in a half-exasperated, half-amused fashion. "Even in separate wings, you still can't keep your hands off each other."

Harry answered back the retort with a one-shoulder shrug and a smile. As much as he didn't want to spend the whole day away from Draco, even though tradition demanded it to be so, Harry was reminded how much of a battle it was to leave their bed-and the number of times he struggled to keep his clothes on after battling through Draco's quick fingers. How one simple goodbye turned into another, then another, and the next thing he knew, Harry was underneath, clothes either half-on or torn off, with Draco showing his appreciation all over again.

"I won't lie," She went on, cutting through Harry's memory of heated gazes and fierce kisses. "It is tiring sometimes, but it's also sweet." She laid her hand on his shoulder and pecked his cheek. "I only hope I can find someone who treats me half as well as Draco does with you."

Absolutely impossible, Granger, Draco chimed in, his earlier frustrations apparently relieved. There's only one of me.

Harry rolled his eyes, barely concealing his snort.

Just as there's only one of you, Harry. This time when those invisible fingers returned, they cupped his face so gently while a butterfly kiss landed on the crown of his head, causing warmth to spread through his body.


A light string of knocks at the door drew their attention to the door. Narcissa walked in a moment later, practically gliding, dressed in soft blues and whites that worked perfectly with her coloring.

"Just finished seeing Draco off." A worried frown pitched her face. "I never would believe my son to be the anxious type, but I suppose no one is immune to wedding nerves. Smashed his hand into the wall."

Laughter sprung up Harry's throat and he bit down his lip to keep it from bursting out.

Narcissa's eyes flew over to him, almost as if she could see the connection between him and the bruised hand, and then widened in amazement. "Oh, Harry." She placed one hand over her mouth, the other on her chest, shaking her head slowly. "Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking."

A smile began to bloom across his face, but then faltered when he noticed Andromeda standing by the door frame, one hand on the knob as if she were indecisive between coming in fully or leaving altogether. Her brown eyes were locked on him, taking in everything. The roses in his hair, the white heels peeking through the hem of his dress, the light touch of makeup on his face, and of course the dress.

It was where her eyes mostly lingered. Her expression was unreadable, but lines deepened around her eyes as she studied the dress. The butterflies splattered around it, the long train, the massive tulle.

Despite going against her family's wishes and marrying a Muggle-born, Andromeda couldn't seem to let go of her narrow-minded, "traditional" thinking. It took ages for her to accept the fact that Harry and Draco were together and nothing would change that. No matter how outdated and prejudiced the rest of the world remained to be. No matter how many people, few remaining reckless souls, scoffed in disgust at them or spat vicious words, ending in the result of Draco firing back with his venom-laced words and a hard punch that could shatter teeth or Harry responding with a serene smile and a hex that their insides on fire. It took even longer for the woman to accept the fact that Harry was someone who was not defined by gender norms.

It was that factor that played into the estrangement between them and Andromeda. Seeing Harry leaning more towards dresses reminded her of Regulus Black, who showed interest in feminine things at a young age and was brutally reprimanded for it, was the crack that severed her relationship with them altogether. In her mind, just as men and women should only be with each other, boys should be into boys' things and girls into girl's thing. Point, blank, and simple.

Well, for Harry, it wasn't quite as simple. Actually, it was- just not the black and white close-minded simplicity Andromeda and so many others were under. But his own kind way of simple that wasn't as restrictive. He was a boy. Sometimes he was a girl. Sometimes he was both. Other times he was neither. He was a being who loved high-fashion. He was someone who loved tulle and satin as much as leather. Could appreciate a well turtleneck and pants combination just as easily as a strappy top and a skirt paired with heels. He simply loved fashion, including dresses.

The choker had been a non-negotiable deal with Narcissa, but the dress was the major one with Andromeda. When she heard the news of their engagement, much as she tried, Andromeda couldn't completely hide the grimace that smacked onto her face. Seeing it, Harry was almost tempted for the sake of the peace to switch into a suit. It would have been an easy route, and he was sure he would find something equally as good that would match and also stand out from Draco's own. But in the end, he just couldn't. He couldn't see himself see anything else but a dress. It meant too much to him.

He told Andromeda as much during the time they broke the news. Badly as she tried to hide her grimace, the same couldn't be said of the cracks of disapproval that crept onto her face, tightening her mouth. Regardless of how she felt, she still managed to hold her tongue and replied with a tart nod. An action that may or have may not been influenced by Draco, who reminded her that her invitation was a still a tentative one that could easily be snatched back if given a reason.

It was puzzling to Harry how Andromeda rebelled against her family's wishes when she chose to marry Ted, but still held belief in flimsy rules when it came to boys loving boys or boys wearing dresses. He supposed it was proof that although a person may leave a toxic environment, it didn't mean that the poison they regularly inhaled weren't completely drained from their system.

It took years, multiple conversations that range from peaceful to outright ranting and raging (more so from Draco's side, along with Tonks and even Ted), and deep reflection from Andromeda's end before she came- or so claimed-to come to terms of the fact they were unusual, Harry was unusual, but it didn't mean anything as long as they were happy. Even with that, Harry only half-heartedly trust her, still hurt from her rejection. It took longer for her to raise from utter hatred to indifferent tolerance in Draco's eyes-and barely at that.

Narcissa's soft expression that was dazzled by Harry's look withered into a sour one as her sister came into the room. Hermione and Neville stood by his side like a pair of bodyguards ready to engage at the slightest hint of trouble. Andromeda was either entirely oblivious or unconcerned by the tension, slowly walking into the room in her royal blue dress that shine with their sequined details until she stood in front of him.


He took a deep breath, chest growing tight, heart beating fast.

"I…" She began, then paused, a slight frown crossing her mouth. "I…"

Harry fought the urge to twitch under the tension he felt building in the air.

"I don't think…I've ever seen such a beautiful person." Taking one step forward, she took his hand in hers and held it firmly, brushing her thumb along the side of his knuckle. "Or a bride."

A small, inaudible crack fractured inside him. A crack that pulsed throughout his chest, surging through his veins, vibrating with joy joy joy like a set of fireworks setting off into dazzling explosions. A crack that burnt his eyes, releasing a few hot tears that rolled down his cheeks.

A wisp of a smile touched Andromeda's face, smoothening out the frown lines previously there, restoring the glow of her still-youthful beauty that featured an extra shine. Tears filled her eyes as she took his hands in hers, brought them to her lips, and kissed them once-twice-several times.

Once for requested forgiveness, for all the years she spent blinded in ignorance.

Twice for acceptance, for everything that made him Harry from his love for Draco to his unique self and style.

Three for happiness, pouring each ounce of love she had for the two of them.

"Just beautiful." she declared, dropping a soft kiss onto his forehead.

"Almost beautiful," Narcissa corrected. "There's still one more thing we need to add."

She walked over to the vanity and picked up the veil. With careful, steady hands, without disrupting the flower crown, she woven it through the braided roses and spread it out until it was rolling down, dropping across the floor like a silver-white ocean.

Through the shimmery sheer-white material, Harry easily made out the tears glistening in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she held his cheek gently with one hand.

"Do you remember everything I told you?" she asked.

Years of lessons rolled through his mind. Of proper etiquette, of mastering colors and patterns, of hosting, being a suitable partner in both family and business affairs. Lessons on how to be a proper partner, a good Malfoy wife. Harry nodded, tears burning in his eyes, with a soft, "Yes."

"Then I have no doubt you'll be an exceptional bride." She placed a kiss firmly on his forehead, and Harry's body quivered from the sheer joy he could feel pouring from her.

A third shrill of the bell signaled it was time. Narcissa gave him one last kiss, Andromeda one last smile, before they stepped out to join the others and find their seats. Hermione pecked him on the cheek, her face already streaked with tears and ruined mascara she would need to redo. Neville took in deep breaths before he straightened his tie and nodded at his reflection, glancing over at Harry.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready?" Harry nodded.

At the first note of the familiar notes he could hear billowing from the piano, all one hundred and fifty guests rose to their feet and turned their heads to the back. The afternoon sunset, golden light against the rosy pink-and-orange background of dusk, adding a softness to the candle-lit gardens they had chosen as their venue.

The youngest Weasley child and Tonks's son, the adorable flower girl and ring-bearer, started off the march, stinging along smiles and laughs from the crowd as they made their debut.

Excitement grew as the groomsmen and bridesmaids took their walk. The women in their cranberry-red dresses, the men in their fine black suits. Hermione linked with Ron, Neville with Luna, and Pansy with Blaise.

The excitement that ignited when the others walked down erupted to pure wonderment when Harry finally walked down, producing soft smiles, widened eyes, and tears. So many tears. The long veil and petal-detailed skirt trailed behind him. The crown of red roses felt like a ruby-jeweled one gleaming on his head.

Waiting for him at the end of the alter was Draco. His Draco. His beautiful, strong, incredible Draco.

If Harry was a model of Persephone, he was Hades in the flesh. His black suit looked like it was made of the richest velvet Harry's fingers were itching to touch, the collar set high, featuring gorgeous silver beaded and lace detailing snitched onto the front, the sides, and at the sleeves. The form-fitting trousers were tucked into silver heel-less boots. His beautiful white-blonde hair was loose and framed around his face.

Draco's face was practically stone compared to the smitten, wonderstruck crowd. Expressionless, calm. The only crack in that near-remote façade was the look in his eyes.

Desire and love, want and need, flared in his eyes, raging like a storm that grew more like wildfire with each step Harry took closer to him.

One step. Desire.

One step. Want.

One step. Love. Love love love love love. An endless, relentless amount of love that made Harry feel like he wasn't walking but flying.

When Harry finally reached the end of the alter, he handed the rose bouquet he held to Hermione and reached for Draco's hand. Draco's eyes slowly slid from Harry's hands that were engulfed in his larger ones, to his bare arms, up his bare shoulders, up to his neck where his eyes glinted as they studied the choker, and finally Harry's face.

Without breaking eye contact, Draco lifted the veil up and folded it back. He brought Harry's up to his mouth, his lips gliding along the skin of his knuckles to the sides of his thumbs.

You are magnificent. Draco's eyes blazed.

Heat rolled into Harry's stomach, nearly bringing him to his knees.

Absolutely magnificent. The feral look in his eyes brought back the fun they managed to have before they were forced to separate; a preview of what was to come tonight.

Distinctly Harry could make out the speeches the Remus, their acting minster, was saying. The sacred bond of marriage. How love and commitment and trust were the building blocks for the structure behind it. But mostly his attention was on Draco.

He felt beautiful under those gray-blue eyes. He felt exposed, as if he could see through the clothes.

Seemed like it was just yesterday when Harry was given away by his estranged relatives who couldn't be bother with him a minute longer and had taken into a dark, scary place littered with children his age and younger and older. Filth partially covered their nude bodies that were skeletal, faces empty and eyes distant. The pain and misery of the cramped space so thick in the sweltering air that Harry was choking on it. He had been only six, a small child, cold and frightened over what had just happened. Where was he? Why was he brought there? What had he done to make his family decide it was time to get rid of him?

Then Harry had noticed him. A blonde-haired boy who looked around his age, but bigger somehow. Older, from the tightness of his jaw, the cold slits of his eyes as he stared down at his balled up fists. He was dirty as the rest of his children, but somehow the dirt heightened the subtle but undeniable beauty of his face. The kind of beauty better suited for a porcelain doll or a prince in the storybook than a place like that.

At first the boy had been annoyed by Harry. By his slowness, the way Harry wouldn't stop staring at him. As far as he was considered, Harry was nothing more but another mouth to feed, another waste that took up more of their limited space, another body to be played with or traded away by the monsters that lived above ground. That all changed when the beautiful blonde child came back after being summoned upstairs, injured and bloody, candle wax encrusted around his lower back and arse. It pained Harry seeing him so broken, this strong and beautiful boy broken and in tears. He had to help.

The boy shoved Harry away when he touched him, then froze when he realized what Harry had done. That he healed him somehow, with an old rag and a few drops of water, wiping away candle wax, repairing the broken skin.

Draco then had done things that Harry never experienced his whole life, living under his family's house, in his small hole in the cupboard. He wrapped Harry in a blanket. He brought him close in, him the freak that couldn't even count on one hand the number of times he was touched willingly that didn't immediately resulted in pain. He held Harry close and rocked him gently, through his shock, then his tears, promising he'd take care of him.

Which he continued to do ever since, when they broke out of the hold, when they came across Brennan and Liam who were the first taste of family and home, when they were discovered by Remus and brought into the wizarding world. Through it all, Draco continued to take care of him. He protected Harry. He fought for Harry. Helped him in every way possible. Loved him every way, everyday and didn't let Harry forget it.

He was everything to him.

"And now it is time for the vows," Remus said. "As per request, the vows were self-made and done from the heart. Draco, would you like to start?"

May I? Draco asked. Harry nodded. With a soft smile, he began:

"I only have three distinct memories. Warms beds and stories and hot chocolate from the orphanage that was the closest thing I had to a home for the first six years of my life. A year spent in hell, being broken repeatedly by a deeply sick bastard before being lorded over by another sick bastard who was twice as disturbed and got off on hurting small kids. Spending one miserable day after another in a ship with other kids who were broken just like me, being traded and sold off like cattle to more sick fucks."

Harry's stomach churned when he thought of the Hold. The near pitch-black darkness that was occasionally broken whenever the small door opened, the stream of light pouring into the basement. The small, dirty bodies and vacant eyes. Draco being forced to lead children up to the light and coming back down with half that number when he returned. Draco sometimes coming back later, bruised and hollowed, angry bruises practically screaming against his pale skin, asking Harry not to heal him-at least not all the way, or it could mean new bruises.

He knew he wasn't the only one affected by the sobering topic. The earlier wonderment from the guests when the wedding march began dimmed to unease. Hermione nervously scratched the side of her neck, as if there was an itch she couldn't be rid of. Ron's gaze averted, his feet shuffling awkwardly. Narcissa sucked in a sharp breath and clenched the handkerchief in her hand while Lucius clenched his teeth. Years later and still the devastating revelation that Bellatrix, Narcissa's own sister, had been the one to stole their infant son shortly after he was born struck them every time. Even Liam looked sick, mouth pinched, brows furrowed, appearing like he was torn between getting rid of those memories for them or finding the sources behind Draco's misery so he could kill them himself.

"And then you came along," Draco continued. "The newest addition to the Hold I was sure would be gone in a few days. A pain who wouldn't stop staring at me. Someone who touched me-and didn't want or expected anything in return. You just wanted to help me." A smile curled his mouth. "And ended up being an unexpected miracle I promised to myself I would never let go."

Harry's gaze averted as bright red flooded his cheeks, spreading to his face. Draco brought his gaze back by gently grabbing his chin and turning his head forward.

"Where people wanted me to change, mold me into something I couldn't and didn't want to be, you embraced me. Thrones and bite and all. When I was being doubted, even by myself, you believed in me. When things got too crazy or overwhelming, you just held onto my hand and were ready to either follow or lead me through the madness."

Those tears Harry tried so hard to contain came back with a vengeance, stinging his eyes.

"I poison, you heal. I fall, you catch. All without hesitation, without question. Which…" Draco shook his head, eyes wet with tears. He cleared his throat and released a choked chuckle. "Damn, I told you I suck at speeches." He glanced over at Lucius. "Sorry, Father."

Lucius rolled his eyes half-heartedly amidst the laughter that stirred in the crowd. Harry laughed along with them, although the sound was watery to his own ears. Draco's smile widened.

"Basically," he said. "You were someone who stumbled into my life and became one of the most-correction." Draco stepped closer and caught a tear he didn't realize that fell. Another step forward and Harry's face was cupped in his hands. "You are the number one most important thing in my life."

The tears were unleashed in hot, thick gushes, blinding Harry's vision. Through the blurred vision, he could make out Draco's smile.

"One I will take care of. One I will protect with everything I got. One I will love until the day my heart stops beating," Draco said, love beaming through his smile. "And beyond that."

Remus smiled and, with a clearing of his throat as he brushed away his own tears and a slight nod, gestured for Harry to go next. Only Harry was baffled. Speechless and touched by everything Draco said to him, unsure to respond to that. What could he say? How could he sum up thirteen years worth of memories, good and bad, laughter and tears, and love?

"I…I…" Too soon he realized he was stammering and scolded himself while clearing his throat. He licked his bottom lip and chewed on it nervously, aware of Draco's interest zeroing in. "For me, I only have two memories. Nothing and everything. Before I met you, I lived in an environment that was just as bad as the Hold. Where I was told I was nothing and believed I was nothing, except one thing. Freak."

Anger blazed through Draco, surging from him, rushing into Harry, burning so hot like molten lava. It had been years since the Dursleys were brought to the Ministry for what they had done to him and had met their fates, but Draco felt like more should have been done. Even wishing he had helped delivering that final blow to their demise.

"A Freak who didn't deserve anything. Not food, not happiness, not comfort. Not even love. That all changed when I first met you. You who was the first person in my life that smiled at me. You who actually touched me. It was a touch that seared my skin, burnt my bones, and reached into my heart." Harry looked up at him and was amazed to find Draco unleashing a stream of tears, allowing them to run freely. "You saved me, Draco. In every way possible. And I vow to do the same for you through loving, caring, protecting, and supporting in anyway I can for the rest of our lives."

Draco opened his mouth and a hiccup/sob burst from his mouth, triggering a new flood of tears, causing most of the guests to battle with their own tears. Including Harry, who was drowning in his own.

"I'm yours," Harry declared, voice soft yet tone firm, a bright smile splitting his face. "Utterly and completely. Always and forever."

Draco took back one of Harry's hands and brought it to his mouth. Mine, Draco said with a kiss to his knuckles. Mine, he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Mine, he thought again with a solid kiss to his forehead. Just like I'm yours.

Remus cleared his throat, eyes bloodshot, and called for the rings. Teddy stepped forward and lifted the white pillow holding the two golden wedding bands.

They slid the rings onto each other's rings simultaneously, threads of their magic seeping through their fingertips, reaching out to each other and producing a burst of light that glowed between them.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Harry James Potter as your lawfully-wedded husband? For better or for worse? Through sickness and in health? For as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Draco declared, tone firm.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, take Draco Lucius Malfoy as your lawfully-wedded husband? For better or for worse? Through sickness and in health? For long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Harry choked, throat tight.

"Then by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now-"

Harry couldn't wait any longer. Leaping onto Draco with a happy cry, arms wrapped around his neck, Harry brought their lips together in a deep, eager kiss.

"…now completely ignore me and do what you will." Remus finished.

He made out the laughs and catcalls of their friends and family, but it was all white noise to him, faded out by the immense pleasure filling his mouth, swelling inside him. Growing deeper as Draco brought him closer, one hand cradling his face, the other pressing against his back.


The ceremony passed in a whirl of drinks and dances and speeches and food. Harry felt like he was engulfed in a warm, soft cloud during their first dance, then their second, then tenth. Their bodies pressed close together, Draco's arms secure around his waist while his eyes were so intent with their warmth and adoration that Harry felt weightless and drunk.

Speeches after speech were given. From Liam who full filled his duty as Draco's best man and done a fine job at it, to Ron, and even Drey who stood on one of the tables to make her speech and was forced to step down from the glare Jessica shot her.

The food was delicious. An endless buffet of roasted meats, steamed rice, to the rich seven-layered chocolate cake.

"Stop doing that." Draco murmured.

"Stop doing what?" Harry asked, confused. He was about to dive into the third slice of cake before he heard his whine.

"Polishing off your fork as if you were making love to it and teasing your new husband like that."

Husband. The word sent a crescendo of chills through his back. Harry was sure he would and could never get tired of hearing. He bit on his bottom lip and gave him a sheepish smile. "I love chocolate."

Draco hummed as his eyes raked over Harry's form in that dress once more. Over the bodice, the full skirt, the lace detailing, the pure color that was a contrast to the storm of feelings building inside him. "What a coincidence. As do I." He plucked a flute of champagne from one of the nearby servers. "Along with sausage."

The next bite of cake nearly clogged Harry's throat, triggered by the sharp intake of breath.

"I think I may enjoy it right now." Draco placed the glass down, kissed his cheek, and walked them over to the back of the tent that was unattended by guests.

During their walk, confusion buzzed inside his head. He couldn't-he couldn't be serious, could he? There was so many things left to do. More speeches, more dances, the big wedding gift opening. Plus, what would their friends think if they found out they left their wedding day less than three hours in? He already imagined the complaining Liam and Ron would unleash. The girls trading looks, Drey smirking, Jessica pondering.

Are you coming? Harry was pulled away from his thinking and looked to see Draco standing the agape hole that led to outside, holding one tent flap in his hand, beckoning Harry with one finger.

And he would deal with that later, after their honeymoon which conventionally enough was a two-week period.

Draco grabbed his hand once he reached him. In one move, Harry was twirled away from the heated tent to outside in the cool air, back pressed against a tree, and Draco pounced on him.

Harry was drowning in the sea of heated kisses-on his mouth, his neck, his chest. Heated hands ripping him apart by the seams. The strain support keeping him afloat was the bark of the tree digging into his back, which sent him further down his downward spiral of ecstasy.

He cried out when Draco pulled back, taking his lips and hands away, leaving Harry on edge and cold. He tried to reclaim those lips, but was denied by a firm push of a finger pressed against his mouth.

"Do you trust me?" Draco asked, eyes smoldering like starlight.

Harry nodded.

"Answer me."


Draco dropped a kiss that ended far too soon for Harry's liking. He was about to whine again, beg outright for more, until he noticed that smirk.

"Hang on." Draco muttered against his lips.

Harry barely had time to clasp onto Draco's waist before they vanished from sight with a crack.


For their honeymoon, there were ideas thrown here and there on where they could from Paris to Hawaii, even Italy where they had a great sampling of everything from art to music and food. Eventually they settled with Hawaii, falling in love with the salty-sea air, the beautiful beaches, and the relaxing vibe that sat on their shoulders and loosened their bodies the second they visited the place.

Even now at nighttime, it was a sight to behold. The sea salt perfuming the air, soothing like a wordless lullaby. The wide mass of white sand a sea of cream against the dark background of the shimmering ocean and the nightsky. The humming of the sea as gentle waves rolled in and out, syncing perfectly with the cool breeze. The wall, wide palm trees, their leaves dancing along to the breeze's soft singing, forming a barrier around the two-story white and blue cabana beach house they rented out for their honeymoon.

It was a beautiful sight. A truly stunning sight.

Too bad Harry and Draco didn't pay a lick of attention to it.

They were caught in a whirl of ecstasy and paradise found between them, lips charging and departing, hands grasping and groping. Their shoes were long gone before they stepped inside the house, Draco's coat discarded in the midst of their tumbling down the hallway. By the time they reached the living room, it was a toss-up on what was tossed and where, whose limbs were whose.

It was all a tangled blur Harry couldn't get close enough. Couldn't kiss him harder. He wanted to reach into his skin, sink deep into him, and became a new part that couldn't be severed until there was no way to distinguish one from the other.

Draco took a step back, causing Harry to nearly fall forward. His mind felt muggy and disorientated, as if he drank his weight in the richest wine.

It took a moment to gain his bearing. They were in the living room of their rented house that was crisp and clean, the walls painted white, and the furniture in various shades of sky to navy blue. The ocean of the view through the glass doors took up most of the space to the left of them.

Beautiful as it was, it didn't come close to the way Draco's eyes scorched him.

Just looking into those eyes, Harry could see how he looked. He knew from the tenderness of his mouth that all the lipstick was smeared off but bruised red from all the kissing they've done. His hair was an unruly mess, a few petals of his discarded rose crown tangled in his curls. Some of the lacing of his dress undone, layers askew. Face completely flushed.

Draco was a slightly better condition, despite being only in his trousers and inner shirt, losing the tunic along the way of their tryst tumbling. Without taking his eyes away from Harry's eyes, Draco gave him that slow, wolfish smile that made heated fingers stroke lazily against the pit of Harry's stomach while moving backwards to the couch. He peeled off the white undershirt and dropped it to the ground before he sat down, arms spreading over the top, legs crossed in front.

The perfect picture of nonchalance, until a closer examination picked up on the disheveled nature of his hair, the bright red bruising of his mouth.

Harry tried to calm his breathing that was still puffing out in embarrassing wheeze, but Draco's staring wasn't helping, making them more shallow and lengthy. It was if his brain, along with his heart, were still trying to process everything the fact that this beautiful, wild, fierce fire of a man was his. Completely and totally his in every sense of the word.

From the way Draco looked at him, it was like he was going through some disbelieving notion. He raked his teeth across his bottom lip, and Harry was hit with a sharp lash of need that his knees buckled.

"Turn." Draco said with a twirl of his finger.

Heat hammering in his chest, Harry followed the command, turning away from those piercing gray eyes and moving slowly. All while feeling those eyes following his every move, like hands running over his body, toying with the straps and lace, teasing him with light touches that squeezed his heart and breath like a trapped butterfly trying to escape.

When he turned back to Draco, it was a miracle he was still on his feet instead of crumpled on the ground.

"My beautiful, beautiful bride." Draco purred.

Happiness split through Harry like an earthquake slicing through the ground, vivid joy pouring through the cracks.

A smile lit Draco's face like a star. At first joyful caused from Harry's own joy, then edged with wickedness as desire leaked through the gleeful tidal wave.

"My beautiful bride." At the slight growl ruffing through last word, Harry's heart went into double time.

WANT NEED LOVE anxious LOVE LOVE NEED NEED NEED swirled inside him.

"My beautiful, lovely bride." Who's all mine. Words unsaid, but presence very well-known. Draco cocked his head to the side as he studied Harry once more. "You really do look stunning in that dress."

Harry bit the inside of his left cheek as he ducked his head.

Look at me.

Harry obeyed the command, meeting his eyes, and shivered from the endless depth of need that gleamed from there.

"I don't know whether I want to tear the pretty dress off you and have my wicked ways with you. In very creative ways." Harry whimpered, fists clenched to his fists, as his mind was assaulted by a stream of images of those creative ways, with him in very creative positions. "Or have my wicked ways with you in that dress."

Pleasure balled up inside him like molten lava. The tailor who dressed dozens of Malfoys for their weddings, including the stunning one Narcissa worn for hers, had truly put her heart and soul into creating Harry's dress, taking his idea and turning them into a breathtaking reality.

Her most exquisite work yet, one of the kind, and also, "I asked her to make another copy of it."

Draco's eyes widened, a rare but always entertaining moment of surprise. Harry bit down a smile and said, "Just in case."

It was all Harry said, all intentions innocent, but something must have given him away. His averted eyes, his bitten down smile, because the surprise he sensed from Draco's end abruptly changed to interest. And something dark and enticing filling Harry up that could only be described as revenge that would delivered in the sweetest of forms.

"You're certainly a clever thing, aren't you?"

Harry pushed back the urge to hand out another helpless shrug and redirected that energy towards a coy smile that honed the edges of that darkness he sensed billowing from the other side of the bond. "Well I am a Malfoy, aren't I?"

Draco's hands laid so casually were clenched into the cushions so tightly, Harry could almost hear the seams ripping apart thread by thread.

"More importantly, I am yours, aren't I?"

Silence fell so suddenly, so loudly both physically and mentally that Harry almost worried that something went off inside Draco, like a loose screw. Only for a spilt second until a flood, a tsunami of emotions slammed against Harry so powerfully, so wildly that he was submerged in the deep underbelly of love-need-desire-passion that surrounded him-filled him. Each emotion a lash that whipped against his body until he was practically in tatters.

"Come here." Only a fool would mistake the softness of the tone as a simple request.

Harry kept his stance steady and graceful as he walked over to Draco, eyes bright, smile sly. Even as he watched Draco unzip his pants, push down it and his underwear, cock freed and full and hard, the veins bulging, tip smearing with pre-come as Draco stroked it. Even as Harry felt a lubrication spell preparing him, coating his hole with lube.

Harry's calm composure broken though when, as soon as he was within reach, Draco pounced on him. Yanking Harry to him with a tug to his arm, crushing their lips together in a fire-fueled kiss he felt down to his soles of his feet, nails digging into his skin.

His composure completely broke apart when he felt the skirts of his dress pushed up to his waist. Right before he felt something tender and hot plunge into him.

A gasp boomed from his lips, his back arched, eyes clenched shut as pleasure blazed through him.


Harry's breath came out in pants as he leaned forward, pressing himself against Draco's chest, face buried in the nape of his neck. Not to hide from the pain, but to take it in full stride, every delicious flick and burn of pain pulsing through him.

"Good boy." Draco purred, dropping a kiss to his shoulder blade. Always such a good boy for me, Harry.

He whimpered, tears filling his eyes as he broke into a shudder, sinking deeper into Draco while Draco pushed further into him. He shook violently as emotions barreled inside him, holding onto Draco as if he could help him withstand it better.

"More…" Harry choked. "I want more."

Dropping another kiss to his shoulder blade, Draco gave a firm thrust that nearly knocked Harry back in a gasp. Harry responded back with his thrust, soft and sweet. Back and forth they went, giving and taking, trading pleasure for pleasure, exchanging soft kisses and slow caresses.

Until Harry let his lips linger during the last kiss, tugging Draco's bottom lip as if he could steal it from him, giving a sharp twist with his hips that magnified their pleasure from sweet to electrifying.


In an instant, Harry was lifted up, Draco's cock still inside him, and Draco was on the move. For a second, he was sure Draco was going to rush him upstairs to the bedroom. To his surprise, Draco moved him over to the center of the living room. Harry whimpered when Draco slipped out of him, feeling cold and empty. Draco brushed against his lips against Harry's forehead before he laid him gently across the floor.

All the laces to his dress were untied, the skirt a bundled mess. The front of bodice undone and peeled away, revealing Harry's pale chest, his hardened nipples. The skirt of a twisted, bundled mess, hunched up to his waist, the butterfly train laid underneath his head.

Draco stood over him in full, unashamed nude, face flushed, chest heaving with low breaths. His heat-blazed eyes like stone cuffs chaining Harry to the ground.

Without breaking their eye contact, Harry spread his legs opened, completely exposing him, attempting to bite back a moan as Draco's attention sharpened. One of his hand crept up to his nipple, running a lazy finger around the swollen bud, shivering from the ripple of pleasure that burst from the touch. At the same time, his other hand grasp onto his cock, showing it the same attention.

Draco took in a deep breath, eyes narrowing.

A hiss/gasp burst from him once Harry found his rhythm, the effects of his teasing hands spreading until his whole body felt like shocked with nerves, grinding against the floor that mounted the pleasure growing inside him.

Draco jumped on him, pining his hands over his head, plunging right into him without hesitation, stealing Harry's breath in a searing kiss before it ever debuted. Then stole his breath again and again and again with more searing kisses that liquefied him. Armed with a series of deep, brutal thrusts that battered thought and time into pieces.

Harry combated with the onslaught with his desperate thrusts, responding to Draco's hunger with eagerness. Again and again they clash and collided, until their clashing-combined-merged waves erupted into a soul-shattering crescendo that took them higher and higher, through the roof, through the sky until Harry was sure they reached the ultimate peak of bliss.

Harry collapsed against the floor, mind gone, bones liquid and limbs boneless. Draco managed to hold himself up on shaky arms, but that strength quickly gave away. Harry was there to catch him though, just like how he'd always catch him. Harry kissed his head, then his brow, and held onto him.

"I'll take care of you," he promised. The same words Draco said to him all those years ago.

Its significance was not lost on Draco, eyes widening as the words sank in, a sheer of tears coating his gaze. Draco brought their lips in a deep, tender kiss, mustering every inch of love and care reserved only for him.

"I'll always take care of you." Draco murmured. Always.

One last kiss and Draco rested his head on Harry's chest. Harry stroked his hair, lulled by the faint beat of Draco's heart until sleep finally took him.