Draco Malfoy wakes up in bed, strong arms surrounding him, tears dripping into his sleep-mussed hair. He holds onto Harry like he needs this embrace to breathe, and they cry silently until sleep takes a hold of them. 

Nights are bad. The days are fine. Mostly, the silence is unbearable, and they always find away to drown it out. The war made them grow up too fast, and now they relish in the simple things, like when Harry gets peanut butter on his nose, or when Draco's stomach grumbles loudly.

Harry's friends love Draco too, now, and by extension, his friends, and Blaise is often seen gallivanting around Diagon Alley with a guffawing Ron Weasley at his side. The silence is not so bad these days, and there is often a smile on Draco's face. 

Sometimes, they cuddle on the sofa and watch bad muggle movies. Draco always falls asleep halfway, and Harry secretly loves to watch him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. He often falls asleep too, and the awkward position gives them cramps in the morning. They don't care, though. It's nice to hold, and be held.  The silence is almost an afterthought, now, and more often than not, they'll sit for hours, reading silently together on. 

When Harry finally proposes, it's after four years of loving Draco with all of his entirely-too-large heart. Draco accepts with tears running down his cheeks, and Harry kisses them away, one by one.