Draco poured himself a glass of his favorite whiskey, and walked into his and Harry’s living room. He grabbed his cellular device, that Harry had insisted upon him getting, so they could keep in contact easier when Harry was on a particularly long raid or when Draco was trying to track down a rare ingredient for his potions.
Draco sighed, looking at it and then dialed his husband’s number, putting it on speakerphone because he never put muggle technology that close to his face.
Harry didn’t pick up, and instead his voice rang throughout the room when his voicemail picked up, “Hi, you’ve reached Harry Malfoy, I can’t come to the phone right now,”
Draco’s lips twitched into a smile, as it always did when he heard Harry call himself a Malfoy.
“If this is Hermione, please limit your message to less than four minutes, I really don’t have time to listen to you read me your new book,
If this is Ron… Come on, I know we have lunch plans and chess on Tuesday, you don’t need to remind me every week, I will call you if I can’t be there,”
Draco snorted into his glass as he took another sip of his whiskey.
“If this is Ginny, congratulations on whatever match you just won! But please stop trying to make me deaf by screaming in my ear,
If this is Luna, my Quibbler subscription is still active, tell your dad I said hi,
If this is Nevile, um… I’m sure that new plant is awesome, can’t wait to see it,”
Draco rolled his eyes, he heard all the sarcasm dripping from the message to Longbottom, but he knew that the poor Professor would never get it.
“If this is Draco,”
Draco looked at the phone again at the laughing tone in his husband’s voice, and could picture the huge grin plastered on his face.
“I’m okay, don’t worry, I’m eating just fine and no baddies have gotten me yet. Make sure you turned off the stove after dinner, I know you forget sometimes when your mind is on the potion you’re working on, which is always.
I’ll be home soon, I love you.”
Draco could no longer hold back his sob, and it tore through his entire body at the last two statements, almost making him drop his glass. He looked over at the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, sitting next to each other on the coffee table, both blaring the titles “THE BOY WHO LIVED, KILLED IN THE LINE OF DUTY”
Draco felt another sob rip through him and he hung up the phone, setting down his glass and with shaking hands he re-dialed Harry’s number, knowing that Harry would never again answer his phone, but that listening to his voicemail was the only way that he could ever hear Harry’s voice uttering the words,
“I’ll be home soon, I love you.”
“I love you”
This is for phoenixthecookiemonster, because you have an evil soul.
Harry’s voicemail was inspired by this