Sliding down the wall to sit, Draco exhaled gruffly. Without looking up at his wife, he patted the ground beside him and offered her the bottle of scotch.
"Our love can still be just as great without being a fairy tale," he finally said. "I don't think it's wrong to think that it's not a fairy tale. I don't like the idea that it's all written for us already, even if it is as happy ending." He looked at her, the intensity gone from his eyes. "I don't want to share our love with anything else. I want it to only be between you and me. I don't want it to be some symbol for the world to look at. I'm done with everything having such great implications." Slouching a little, he stretched his long legs out. "One of the reasons I like our relationship is because I feel it's something grounded. My whole family history has so much structure, everything about my identity was enslaved to this diegesis."
"I don't want you to think our love isn't special. I just want it to stay private. Something that's ours and personal, not this grand thing out in the world. Can you understand that?"