Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Homestuck.
Warnings: slash, smut, OOCness, profanity
Note: nonmagic; written for the If You Dare Challenge (837 - Feeling Good), Smut University (formal wear), Build-a-Bear Challenge (Classic), Harry Potter Chapter Competition/Challenge, Ascend the Ladder Competition (receiving an unexpected compliment)
Promstuck
Harry stared at the door impatiently, glancing back at it every now and then even though Ron was trying to engage him in a conversation about their school's soccer team, but a few nods and distracted "hmms" usually sufficed in keeping his friend satisfied. Hermione though was quite perceptive, as expected from the top of their year. She laid a hand on his shoulder, brushing the soft texture of his rented suit before picking up her glass of red punch.
"Don't worry. He'll come," Hermione reassured, taking a small sip, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she set the cup back down. "I wouldn't drink the punch if I were you. Tastes horrible."
She turned her head to cough, shaking her head roughly to try to shake off the taste, brown curls tastefully clipped to her head waving with the motion. "I'm going to get some water."
"I'll come up with you!" Ron jumped up from his seat, following closely behind, leaving Harry by his lonesome. His two best friends were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, sticking closely to each other, canceling group plans to go on dates. He would be lying if Harry said he didn't feel left out and forsaken. They were always making moon eyes at each other, which was terribly awkward when Harry was sitting in the middle of the two, sharing these not so subtle glances with each other, smiling this goofy little smile whenever their eyes met, too often for Harry's preference. The way they were acting, like they were some lovesick couple from a trashy romance novel that his aunt leaves lying around the house, was sickening. It was horrible, disgusting, makes him want to puke.
And…Harry wanted that. He wanted to love someone that much and to feel loved in return, to go to the cinemas and parks, to have the world slow down when he meet the other's eyes. What he wouldn't give for that.
And he did find that. Only, not in the way Harry expected. When he first got his phone, earned from months of saving money from his part-time job at Fred and George's prank shop, Ron had immediately pounced on him, bugging him to join this chatting thing called PesterChum. Harry, being the good friend that he was, didn't tell him to budge off but decided to give it a go. And he was glad he did. Because, well, he met Dave there. And that made all the difference.
They didn't immediately start dating, because those never really worked, did they? No, the two took it slow, real slow, even if Harry just wanted it all to end and confess already. The two became friends first before dating, and that was fine with Harry. He didn't intentionally seek out love and romance over the internet, only companionship and a bit of fun, but things never did work out for him, and for once he was grateful for that.
Dave was a stunner, and Harry knew that he knew, but that didn't stop him from ogling the blond's well-defined chest whenever Dave took off his shirt, complaining about the summer heat. No, there was no protests at all.
He was intelligent, cool, funny, everything Harry could ever want in a lover. Perfect except for the fact that he lived all the way in Texas. Houstin, Texas. As in the one in the United States. That was 10 hours and 15 minutes away, 12 hours and 25 minutes if not roundtrip. $796 separating him from his boyfriend. That puts a bit of a downer on a relationship, doesn't it?
But Dave was the best boyfriend in the world, and no matter how many times Harry tried to convince him otherwise, that missing out would be fine, that Dave didn't have to be there even if Harry really wanted him to be, he bought a ticket. He bought a ticket to England. To spend time with him. To attend prom with Harry. With Harry. For Harry.
When Dave had shown up at Harry's door after the brunet made an offhand comment about wanting to spend prom with him a few days later, Harry all but threw himself at Dave, showering him with kisses while tears of joy ran down his cheeks. It was unbelievable, and Harry smacked him for spending that much money, but he was happy to finally see his boyfriend in person.
Dave insisted on staying at a hotel, which Harry could honestly understand since he was unsure of how to explain to the Dursleys why a random stranger was going to be staying at their house. That didn't make Harry the least bit bummed out though. Not at all.
And he wasn't disappointed that Dave wasn't even here yet. That they didn't even arrive together. Harry smashed the cookie in his hands, breaking into tiny pieces, watching listlessly as powder and crumbs fell onto the paper plate in front of him. Sure, Harry didn't expect nor want to come in a limo, but it'd be nice if they could at least enjoy the ride as a couple.
Harry didn't look up when a pair of shoes entered his peripheral vision, standing for a second before the person sat down in the chair next to him. Ron was back earlier than he expected. Harry glanced up, eyes widening in surprise. How could he be so stupid? Those shoes were obviously designer and Ron just borrowed his from Bill's. Only one person was pompous enough to buy brand name shoes and that was—
"You're going to catch flies if you continue to gape, Harry."
Draco Malfoy.
Harry clicked his mouth shut, pursing his lips as he nodded tensely. Turning away without a second thought, he glared at the crowd of people dancing in the center. Ron and Hermione were taking way too long, Harry decided, tapping his foot restlessly. He could almost feel Malfoy's eyes dragging its way across his form, taking in the slightly too big suit, something he insisted on getting because anything else was simply uncomfortable. Harry knew that those silver eyes were narrowed and judging.
"You look nice."
Harry quickly wiped off his shock at the unexpected compliment. Nodding curtly, his head didn't budge, refusing to look in Malfoy's direction. He heard an imperceptible sigh from his side. Yeah, compliments were nice, but a compliment from your ex? Harry wanted nothing more than to get up and run away screaming in the opposite direction.
"Granger's not looking half-bad either. It seems she's finally growing into her looks," Malfoy mused, head resting on an outstretched hand, leaning slightly against the table. Harry smiled when he saw Hermione across the room, picking up a plastic cup filled halfway with water. "Why on Earth she'd pick Weasley is beyond me." Ron, right by her side, suddenly tripped on his feet, sending a splash of water from Hermione's cup onto his powder blue suit. If Harry was being honest, he didn't like the tux as much as the next person. Even Ron scorned it when his dad emerged from the attic with it in hand. After a rather long story about how the suit was passed from generation to generation, how Mr. Weasley had worn it, Bill, Charlie, and even Percy (the twins managed to talk their way out of it), Ron finally, reluctantly, consented.
"Look, Malfoy—," Harry started before he was interrupted.
"Draco, you used to call me Draco."
"Malfoy," Harry repeated purposefully, ignoring the annoyed frown the blond was sporting. "I think you should just leave."
"It's a democratic country. I'll stay wherever I want," he crossed his legs to prove his point, staying irritatingly in the same spot.
"Fine," Harry resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air in frustration. "I'll just leave then."
Harry angrily pushed back his chair, making a horrible screeching sound as it scraped against the wooden floor, but he couldn't care less at this point. A hand shot up and latched onto his arm and Harry released a groan in annoyance.
"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Would you just leave me alone?"
Harry tried to shake off the hand roughly but it only squeezed tighter. When Malfoy opened his mouth again, no doubt to try to spout some nonsense about getting back together, an incredibly welcomed voice interrupted, and despite his current frustration, Harry broke into a smile.
"Dave," Harry breathed out, very much relieved now that his boyfriend was here, prying himself away from Malfoy's suddenly lax hold. He turned around to see Dave's angry face, brows scrunched down as he glared at Malfoy from behind his ever present pair of shades.
"Don't you fuckin' mess with Harry, you piece of shit," Dave said calmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Dave," Harry elbowed his side, which the blond chose to ignore.
Malfoy's eyes widened, adopting an aghast expression, mouth dropping comically.
"Did you just call me a piece of—," his face contorted into a disgusted expression, "shit?"
"Hell-fucking-yeah I did."
"No, Dave, don't make this worse—."
"Just who do you think you are?" Malfoy spat out, eyes sharpening with maliciousness.
"I'm Dave-fucking-Strider, Harry Potter's-fucking-boyfriend, so why don't you just back the fuck off, so I can fucking enjoy this night with him."
Malfoy stared, unsure of how to react.
"Fucking go!" Dave practically shouted, making the other blond jump and scramble away to the back by the restrooms.
"Man, I'm so fucking pissed right now," Dave grumbled, uncrossing his arms.
Harry gave an exasperated smile before launching himself at Dave, catching him in slight surprise, which he would later deny since "Striders don't get surprised".
"What took you so long?" Harry murmured into Dave's shoulder, inhaling in his scent.
"Are you smelling me again?"
"Yeah," Harry didn't try to deny it. "You smell like minty cinnamon." It actually smelled better than it sounded.
He could feel Dave shake his head at him.
"Come on, let's make this the best night of your life," Dave said, dragging him to the dance floor.
"But having you here already made it the best year of my life," Harry shot back, bumping shoulders playfully with him.
Dave smirked, the light hitting his lens. "Don't you know it."
Harry felt hands grabbing his hips and pulling him close flush against a firm chest. Red colored Harry's cheeks but he didn't pull away, bringing his own hands up to rest on Dave's shoulders awkwardly.
Dave was pale despite being exposed to the Texas heat his whole life. He was tall, lanky, but with a bit of an athletic build that he said came from sparring with his older brother. His hair was a beautiful shade of blonde, a golden color that rivaled the sun unlike Malfoy's bleached platinum. He was wearing a white waistcoat, a record disc embellished proudly on one corner. His slacks were a classic black with matching shoes. A red bow tie completed his assemblage, pulling it all together.
Harry wondered to himself how he landed such a wonderful, amazing boyfriend.
"Are you thinking about how cool I am?" Dave asked, quirking a single blonde eyebrow.
"Nope, just thinking about how hot you are," Harry replied, corner of his lip perking up.
Dave grinned. Harry knew how much he loved his irony.
They danced for quite some time until at one point Dave finally snapped at the music selection, storming up the stage, practically throwing the DJ aside. He scowled, putting on the headphones to man the station himself.
Harry was forced to entertain himself, but he didn't mind standing in a secluded corner to just listen to the music. Dave had mentioned in the previous chats that he was interested in turntables and was "dope as shit" at it though hearing it live was another thing.
The girls threw themselves at Dave when he strolled down the stage. He ignored them, for the most part, heading to Harry's corner where he pulled his boyfriend close to deliver the biggest case of PDA he had ever done. Most girls balked at the kiss, drifting off once they realized the obvious relationship status. A small huddle of them though just seemed to be spurred on by it, staring at them wildly with their phones in hand.
"I'm going to the restroom," Harry said, face warm from the surprise kiss, touching his lips softly as he walked toward the back, grinning stupidly. Even though they kissed many times ever since Dave landed in England, Harry couldn't get over the novelty of it. Probably never would. It was electrifying at the very least. If he was attached to a heart monitor, the line would be still because he'd be dead from the amount of times Dave took his breath away.
As he was about to enter the hall where the restrooms were located, a hand darted out from his side, clutching his arm in a tight hold. Harry immediately tried to wrench away but the person wouldn't have it, his other arm seized in a similar iron grip.
"Fuck, Malfoy, just leave me alone!" Harry cried out, prying away one arm with difficultly only to have it latch back on.
Harry growled. Malfoy really wanted a kick in the groin at this point...
"What's he got that I don't?" Malfoy started, shaking Harry roughly, "Why are you two together?"
The desperate look he was sporting almost made Harry feel sorry. Almost. Malfoy cheated on him with Pansy Parkinson of all people. There was no way he'd forgive him anytime soon.
Harry didn't really have time to react before Dave decided to show up just like a knight in shining armor. And punched the living daylights out of Malfoy. Literally. Harry really did feel sorry this time. Once he wakes up, Malfoy would definitely feel the pain.
Dave grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of the gym, ignoring the gaping stares of the students around them. Exiting into the chilly night of England, the two stood under the nearby streetlamp, shadows eerily stretching out. Harry breathed out deeply, breath escaping in white puffs. He stared at the ethereal clusters peaking out from the dark blanket of the night, shining brightly from the endless void. Before Harry could get too distracted, he was dragged to an unoccupied side of the building, shoved against the wall hidden from view.
A mouth quickly descended on his own, harshly crashing their teeth together as a tongue pried his lips open. Harry's hands instinctively reached up to cradle Dave's face, feeling a delicious grip settle on his hips. His eyes were half mast, staring intensely at Dave who looked incredibly fine in that suit of his. Dave looked amazing in his everyday clothes, but put him in a tuxedo, and it was like sexiness times a million. He was seriously drool-worthy material. Feeling the soft cloth of the red bow tie between his fingers, Harry pulled Dave even closer, moaning into the kiss and receiving an answering groan. When Dave started thrusting, sharp tingles spread throughout his body, racing up and down his spine, feeling himself growing harder from his already interested cock. He panted, lifting his legs up and crossing them around Dave's narrow hips. Dave supported the combined weight by pinning Harry against the wall, running his slightly calloused hands over Harry's chest, fingers playing with the nipples standing visibly through the white button up, cloth tortuously rubbing against the sensitive nubs. With Dave's rough touches and the scratch of the wall behind him, the possibility of someone stumbling on them combined with the still new experience of being this intimate with another person had Harry unraveling sooner than he'd expected. He never knew he had these kinks. Not a few moments later and he could feel Dave sag against him.
His pants were too uncomfortable for his liking. Harry groaned slightly when he remembered that he had rented the suit. Dave made a tired questioning sound close by his ear.
"Now every time I pass by the gymnasium, I'll have the memory of us shagging in the back," Harry accused but the small tilt to his lips showed that he didn't mind too much.
"You can just return the favor and defile my school's gym later on," Dave muttered into Harry's neck. It took Harry a moment to process what he said, Texan accent a lot thicker when he was drowsy, and he couldn't reign in the amused snort. That was an invitation from Dave if he ever heard one. Next stop: Houston, Texas.