Draco never asked for any of this. He didn't ask for his life to contain so much stress; he didn't ask for a vacation in a country he couldn't even call home, and he most certainly had not asked to be forced into a marriage with his ex-best friend whom he still loved dearly. And so, when he woke up to find himself a man of now eighteen-years-old, he fell into a panic attack.

He climbed out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, turning on the shower to block out the noise as he began to cry and vomit into the toilet. He shook to his very core, begging for his headache to subside as he sat with his back against the side of the bathtub. He ran a hand through his blond hair anxiously, and bent his skinny knees to rest against his chest. He hugged them and breathed into his arms unevenly.

He now had only a little over a month until he had to propose to Harry, and the boy wasn't even staying under the same roof as him anymore. He wanted to scream, but found that it was still early. Really, he wasn't as rude as people liked to claim that he was. He had a heart: a heart that was just a bit more focused on Harry than it should've been.

But really, he knew that the heart was just another organ vital to keeping him alive. So Draco had a brain, one that was far too focused on Harry for its own good.

Eventually, he settled down and considered actually taking a shower. Once he'd stripped down to nothing, he stepped into the water, forgetting he had set it to freezing, and let out a yelp. Quickly, he added hot water to the mix before stepping back under the jets. The water felt nice against his slightly sun-kissed skin.

He was still pale, but at least now he looked less like a ghost. The sun had caused his hair to turn lighter though, resembling a fresh snowfall in wintertime.

Once he'd finished his shower, he changed into a pair of black athletic shorts, not having realized that they were Harry's, and set on brushing his teeth. He left his shirt off, choosing to stare at his bare torso in the early morning light, reflecting back at him thanks to the mirror. He didn't have an athletic body, but it wasn't scrawny either.

He was average, with the tiniest bit of loose skin on his stomach muscles. His chest actually looked healthy for once, like the sun had done another justice to him.

His white-blond hair was messy, but he refused to coat it in gel and other products. To him, he thought that he looked more normal with strands of hair sticking out every which way, and he set on drying it with a towel.

Leaving the restroom, he placed a green, tourist-y t-shirt he'd bought at the souvenir shop Alvin's Island - which was just down the street - over his head. It fit him nicely enough, but he still paid little mind to the shorts around his waist. They were slightly loose, but he cared not. He felt comfortable.

He sat at the dining table, gazing out the window at the early risers walking their dogs, going for jogs, and found himself envying them yet again. They lived a life he could only dream of: unlimited happiness in the arms of a lover.

Draco had nobody to love: engagement or not, he felt unwanted. He knew Harry felt forced into this, and at times he forced himself to feel that way too, but deep down, he knew he wanted to be with him.

He dreamed of staying awake until the early hours of dawn talking to him: to hold him, or to have himself be held by him. He dreamed of their plethora of 'I love you's,' and of a passionate love that could only be described in a storybook. Most of all, he dreamed of Harry wanting the same things as he did.

Some birthday wish, he thought, picking a piece of lint from his shirt. He continued to stare out the window, watching life around him pass him by. His life had become a ferris wheel that went around and around and around, never stopping, never slowing, and he found himself growing dizzy.

~~~

[Dad]
I didn't know if Sirius told you or not, but I'd like it if you could come and spend the day with us for Draco's birthday.

Harry read over the message, and frowned. He watched his uncles shuffle around the hotel room, preparing for a day out with the Potters and Malfoys. James had planned another barbecue, and had been generous enough to invite Sirius and Remus to tag along.

He remained unmoving, reading over the message that had come a bit over an hour ago. He was still in his pajamas, and tried his hardest to ignore Remus' pleas for him to get ready.

"Harry, it's Draco's birthday. Therefore, we cannot allow you to sit home all day. Come on, and go change." Remus insisted, this time taking Harry's phone from his hands and looking at him sternly.

"You can't do that!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his phone but Remus held it just slightly out of his reach.

"I just did. Get dressed. Now." Remus pointed towards Harry's suitcase, and then turned to help Sirius fix the collar on his shirt.

"Draco's becoming a man! Why, I remember when he and Harry were just in diapers, crawling around the floors and babbling nonsense. And now, he's moving one step closer to starting a life of his own." Harry flinched then, having been listening to Sirius speak.

'A life of his own,' also known as, a life with Harry. This was unfair, but then again, so was life. He tried his hardest to swallow the bile that rose to his throat upon the realization that yes, Draco had just turned eighteen, and threw on a pair of dark jean shorts and a red and black striped muscle shirt. He also slipped into a pair of Converse.

Once dressed, Harry felt a different emotion overtake him. Sirius had mentioned their younger years, and it couldn't help but bring visuals to Harry's head of the boys that they had once been: naive and pure, and completely unaware of the shitty adulthood they would face. He longed then to be a mindless infant again, and envied his former self.

By the time they'd finally gotten out the door, the birthday barbecue was well on its way. It appeared that the seemingly lazy Sunday had actually proven to be one of the busier days for traffic. Then again, by the time Harry had decided to fully cooperate and get ready for Draco's party, every church in the area had been letting people out of their services, and various cars blasted gospel music down the highway.

When Sirius' white Cobalt finally pulled into the driveway beside the black minivan, the aroma of grilled steaks and burgers was wafting towards the front. The three climbed out of the two-door car and stretched their legs: allowing the delicious scent to waft into their noses.

Along the way there, Remus had made Sirius pull off at Wal-Mart, and he'd run inside to buy something for Draco from the two of them. Harry had nothing to give him, so he felt slightly guilty, but allowed his spirits to lift when Neville spotted them and came running.

"Harry, Harry, you actually came!" He cheered, grasping his brother into a hug.

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I have?" The dark-haired lad asked, raising his eyebrows towards the excited sixteen-year-old.

"Uh, because he's Draco, and you don't like him." Neville trailed, eyes darting towards the backyard.

"Well, I'm here. So, can we come in?" The boy with rounded glasses asked, shifting nervously back and forth on his feet. He'd forgotten that they were still in the driveway, and Sirius and Remus were watching their every move.

"Oh, yes, of course! By the way, Dad said he wants to talk to you at some point today. You might wanna get that done and over with." And with that, Neville pranced back through the gate and announced the three guests' arrival.

Remus and Sirius walked through the gate then, but Harry lingered. Had it been a good idea to come? He didn't know. Would he regret it later? Probably. And so, he made his way through the gate and watched as all eyes focused on him dramatically.

So much for making a subtle entrance, he thought, blushing lightly.

"Well, if it isn't the little secret-spiller. Come here to spill another secret, Potter?" Severus spat, and Lucius put a hand on his husband's shoulder.

"Now, now, Severus. He's not worth it." The blond man sighed, glaring at the boy with unruly hair. "Besides, is drama necessary on your son's birthday?"

That was when Harry's attention focused on Draco, who was staring at him sadly. He felt his heart sink, but he continued his venture in approaching him.

"Happy birthday." He muttered once he'd reached him, and Draco only stuck up his nose and walked away.

Great.