Meeting the Potter's

A/N: This was written E. G. Potter's 'Meet the parent's challenge over at HPFC. This probably wasn't quite what the challenge was about, but one I got the idea nothing else would work :)

Harry stood in the doorway, watching Draco regarding himself in the mirror, smoothing down his robes and playing with the sleeves. Harry smiled, he had grown to love all the little things which Draco did – including his vain streak – as it was what made him Draco.

Catching Harry's reflection in the mirror, he turned around. "I'm ready."

"Ok," Harry said, taking a breath. "Take my arm, I'll apparate us." Bringing up an image of the sleepy village in his mind, he turned on the spot, concentrating.

They appeared in a little away from the main street running through Godric's Hollow. It was a mild Sunday evening, and the village was empty except for a small group of children playing on the green, fortunately too immersed in their game of tag to notice two men in strange cloaks appearing across the road.

Draco looked around at the houses and the small row of shop fronts as they made their way through the village. He hadn't been here for years, since one of his father's friends they used to visit moved away, but it looked exactly the same. It was a strange thought, to think that he had visited so often for many years, whilst Harry never had to opportunity to return to his place of birth until he was seventeen. Many times, he had passed the Church and the graveyard, never giving it a second glance. Now, he was back again for the first time in five years, accompanying Harry to his parents graves.

Draco had wanted to visit for some time, but hadn't been sure how to approach the topic with Harry, who made sure he visited them at least once a month. Eventually, two years into their relationship, Draco admitted that he'd like to meet them. Harry agreed to take him the next time he visited, and so here they were.

The kissing gate protested loudly as he opened it. Letting Harry through first, he pulled his hood up to shield his face from the wind. He followed Harry's winding path through the graveyard in silence, until Harry stopped in front of a large gravestone.

"They're here," he said in a small voice almost drowned out by the wind. Harry pulled out his wand and cleared away the weeds creeping up on the grave, whilst Draco regarded the dates on the stone. They were so young, he thought only a year older than we are now. In just over a year, Harry would be older than his parents ever were. The thought seemed strange, and he wondered if Harry had ever considered it in that way. Finishing with clearing the weeds, Harry stowed his wand away and sat down at the foot of the grave, Draco following his example.

"Mum, Dad," he said in a strained voice, "this is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. We've been seeing each other for two years now. I think you'd like him."

Draco smiled, listening as Harry continued telling his parents about their relationship, before switching topic and talking about his latest missions at work, and about his friends. He had always wondered what Harry did when visiting, and it was nice to see him conversing with them. He liked to imagine they were listening, that if he looked up he would see them looking down at them.

After Harry finished his speech, he pulled out his wand and created a wreath of colourful flowers. They contrasted against the white of the gravestone and after a smile of approval, Harry stood up. "I…I think I want to go home."

"Would you mind if I stayed here a minute?" Draco asked.

"Sure," Harry replied, "I'll be outside."

Waiting to hear the squeak of the gate indicating Harry was out of earshot, he began.

"Mr Potter," he said clearly, fingering the small box in his pocket. "We've never met before, as Harry said..." He sighed. "Nevertheless, it seems proper to ask permission. I-I'm in love with Harry. I have been for a long time now; he means so much to me. I'm going to ask him to marry me -do I have your permission?"

He would never admit it, but he swore he heard a 'yes' in the wind.