Harry's assaulted trunk slammed behind the four-poster as he sped off to meet Draco by the grove-like location they had created, secluded and designated to their love. They walked their typical fashion, arm around waist, hand in back pocket. The late afternoon was bright for a January, but still carried inches of snow. "So where're you going, now?"
"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this,"
"I've got an idea," Harry licked his lips.
"What?"
"Grimmauld Place." Draco's eyes lit up. "It's got all we need,"
"You mean it?" His eyes were glassy.
"I mean it," Harry removed his glasses to wipe his eyes.
"Saint Potter," Draco whispered, smiling through the tears. Harry reached over to kiss away each droplet. "We'll decorate it nicely,"
"Move the Slytherin fanboy stuff into the guest room and drag in some red banners,"
"We'll take the bikini pictures,"
"Not the bikini pictures."
"At least one."