Chapter Text
It’s their anniversary.
Draco makes sure the silver buttons of his formal robe are as shiny as glittering stars, that the cords draping across his chest are neat and aligned, that there isn’t a stray piece of lint or wrinkle within a one-hundred-kilometer radius.
He looks in the mirror one last time, ensuring every white-blond lock of hair is in place, and then glances down at his shoes, so shiny he can see his own vague reflection in them. He returns to the mirror, horrified to find his stormy grey eyes filled with evident anguish.
Draco can’t be seen this way. He simply can’t. The public expects a knight in shining armor, at the right hand of his beloved Minister, and that’s what they shall get. There isn’t time for regret and sadness. He needs to be the picture of support and strength.
With one last, deep breath, he exits his quarters and walks through the halls of the Minister’s residence. The rooms he passes are dark, as if holding their breath, almost like they're training to hear the building murmur from across the mansion, the low hum of voices and tinkle of champagne flutes in the ballroom.
It’s the biggest charity event of the season. An evening full of those who want to see and be seen, who want to mingle and endure small talk and get politely drunk for a good cause. It's a big night, and a dangerous one. Threats are easily masked within the camouflaging crush of an adoring crowd that is anxious to have a moment with the Minister.
The Minister is in his study. The light from his desk lamp spills like molten gold out onto the parquet floors of the hallway, and Draco leans in the doorway for a moment, just watching him.
The stiff set to his shoulders, a byproduct of carrying the fate of all wizarding-kind on his shoulders just as much now as he did when he was a boy. The soft fringe of black hair at the nape of his neck just brushes the collar of the white button-down. The defined muscles of his back, evident even through the cotton shirt, make Draco’s mouth go dry.
It’s their anniversary.
“Minister,” he murmurs quietly, suddenly nervous, and Harry turns. His beautiful green eyes go wide when he sees Draco, and the normal, serious set of his face slips into something eager, anticipatory. Something full of love and longing.
“You look…wonderful,” Harry breathes, a shock of raven-black hair slipping across his forehead. He pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Very… handsome.”
Draco does a slow turn, showing off the robes, pleased at Harry’s appraising stare. “All for you,” he says coyly, slipping Harry his trademark smirk. “I’m glad you like the outfit.”
Harry stands and turns fully toward Draco, and Draco is rendered momentarily breathless by the desire and need he sees settled across his features. Harry sets the quill he’s been holding gently on the desk and takes a step forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. His bowtie is untied, draped across his neck, and Draco gestures at it. “Need some help?”
Harry swallows thickly, his throat bobbing. He takes a shaky breath. “I would love that, Malfoy. Thank you.”
Draco is just about to cross the room to him when Ginny brushes against his shoulder as she sweeps into the study in a rustle of silk. He hadn’t even heard her footsteps. How lazy and stupid of him.
“Darling,” Ginny croons, the tender fondness in her voice making Draco’s heart crack wide open. “Let me help you with that.” She ties Harry’s bowtie with practiced finesse and smoothes the front of his shirt.
Harry smiles and leans in and kisses her fully on the mouth. Draco looks away.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” he hears Harry whisper against Ginny's lips. His eyes dart for one aching minute to Draco, standing at attention with his Auror robes perfect and his unaffected mask back in place, before returning to his wife.
Harry offers Ginny his arm, and she takes it. They turn to leave the room, and Ginny pauses as they pass, her floral perfume tickling Draco's nose. “Thank you for your hard work as always, Malfoy,” she says kindly. “We truly appreciate it.”
“Anything for the Minister,” Draco tells her truthfully. “He has served us well.”
Ginny smiles. “Indeed, he has.” Harry gives Draco one last, fleeting look, his green eyes pulled tight at the corners, before he and his wife step out of the room and head down the hall toward the ballroom.
It’s their anniversary.
And just as he does every day of the year, Draco will watch the love of his life love someone else.