WARNINGS: M for a REASON! Slash, Yaoi, BoyxBoy, Gay Romance and Relationships, whatever you want to call it, it's HERE, so DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ! Slight ("^.^) violence. Scenes of a SEXUAL nature. Role play, bondage(?...sort of), you get the picture.

DISCLAIMER: I most certainly do NOT own the "Harry Potter" stories, films or any of the franchise, that is ALL accredited to J. K. Rowling and all her crew. Believe me, if Harry Potter was my way, you'd be INSANE to give it to your kids! (And just because my name's CallItInsanity does NOT mean I would do so…OR delude myself that the HP characters etc are ANYTHING to do with me). This is a NON-PROFIT, FAN-MADE, piece of creative expression with no intention of rights or copyright infringement intended.

Right, now that I've warned the haters and satisfied the lawyers, here goes - -

Genre: Drarry

Title: The Date Night Epiphany

Summary: It's date night and Harry and Draco can't decide what to do – so they compromise with sexy results.

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"No,"

"But-"

"No."

"But-"

"Harry, I'm not dressing up like a French maid. It's humiliating and…sort of confusing."

"Why?"

"Because you're gay, why would you want me to look like a woman?"

"No, I meant: why is it humiliating?"

"Answer mine first."

Harry sighed. "Because one: you're beautiful whatever you wear; two: I want to see you submissive in suspenders, and three: what better way to DO that than as a servant in fishnets, i.e. a French maid?"

Draco had to pause a minute, delicately furrowing his brow before rubbing his temple with: "That…strangely makes sense."

"Now mine."

"Your what?"

" 'Why is dressing up like a sexy character humiliating on date night?' "

"Because I'll be in a skirt and I'll fall out the panties and it just wont be elegant."

"Sexual fantasies are rarely elegant Draco."

"Maybe so, but Malfoys 'are' and I refuse to drop standard just because you like stockings." He folded his arms in a very Malfoy-esque fashion as he said this, slightly patronising whilst still maintaining seriousness and Harry hated it. There were many things that pissed him off about his husband – his 'Malfoy' pride, the fact he'd never changed his last name, his incessant need to monopolise the bathroom – but it was the little things like how he folded his arms, all slow and superior, that really stuck in his craw. Taking a deep breath however, he put on his best whiney voice and stroked his husband's arms as he said:

"But it'll be ho~t."

"No!" Harry pouted. Date night was going to the dogs… again.

"Why do you make date night so difficult? You never like anything I suggest and you always come out with something either completely flamboyant and complicated or just down right boring."

Draco looked scandalised. "I do 'not'!"

"Really?"

"Yes really!"

"What do you call last month hmm? With all that 'Merlin's apprentices in love' deal?"

"That was NOT boring, and don't you try and make it out to be anything of the sort Harry Potter!"

"No you're right Draco, that wasn't boring at all. In fact it would've been quite hot, what with the whole 'no apprentice relationships' law and the thrill of breaking the rules and such. Except I was trying so hard to remember that damn back-story you cooked up that I couldn't concentrate on enjoying myself; making the whole thing just frustrating and pointless!" Harry was getting a bit out of breath now; it felt good to get this off of his chest, but it was still stressful to know that nothing would change. After all, Draco was Draco; meaning that even if Harry was 100% right about something, he'd still never give in and let it go – least of all actually do something about the issue.

Draco scoffed at Harry's complaint as if it were something completely ridiculous. C'mon, his back-story hadn't been that bad at all! All it had been was: Harry, as a new apprentice to Merlin, was revered for his incredible natural talent. He'd been found on a farm in the far south of England, poor and starving, his parents long dead and the crops failing. He was surely going to die until Draco – the handsomest, bravest and best apprentice Merlin had ever had – picked him up and trained him for the entrance exam. Merlin was so impressed with him that he immediately bumped him up to near enough Draco's rank, which in turn infuriated Draco, as Harry was being given something he himself had worked tirelessly for years to achieve. Harry therefore was treated awfully by his senior, Draco abusing his slightly higher position in order to make Harry suffer, ordering him around and just generally making his life hell. Harry takes it for weeks until he can stand it no longer and confronts Draco. They have it out, battling greatly and throughout telling each other exactly what they thought of one another. Harry gets the upper hand, and as he's telling Draco just how much he's come to hate him and prepares to deliver the deciding blow, Draco tells him he loves him and everything stops. The blond reveals that, yes, it was jealousy at first, but through his hate came a passion he thought could never exist for anyone, least of all a man. Harry, once having processed this information believes that he, too, felt the same way and that this inferno of emotion he'd been feeling all this time had not been hatred, but love. Through the suffocating, emotional haze, the two throw themselves into each other's arms and make hot passionate love, right there in the duelling rink, with a hundred-thousand spectators watching them.

…what was so hard about that?

"You're being ridiculous," Draco said at last.

"No, baby, I'm not. You 'know' I can't deal with complex plots. Why do you think I never read? I just about enjoy films, but that's because they always repeat the important stuff later on, so I don't have to remember every last detail. With stuff like that role play form last month, it's just too complicated! And worse still, whenever I give in and try to make you happy, the moment I forget the tiniest detail, you flip! I mean, how am I supposed to remember my fictitious sister's middle name? Why was that even 'important'?"

"Just 'because' Harry, you 'know' I like the 'detail'; and when I come up with a scenario in my head and I've put the time and imagination in to pull it together – not something 'dressing up as a French maid' really requires – I like it to work out my way and play out pretty much how I thought it would, to the 'detail'. Because I 'like' the 'detail'!"

"Yeah, but not 'that' much! You want that sort of fantasy, freaking write a book! Don't bring it to the bedroom and expect me to know exactly what you've concocted in your head, because I don't and I can't."

The look of disappointment and slight hurt on Draco's face was enough to make freaking 'Snape' cry and Harry, not being the most cold-hearted being on the planet, couldn't help but feel like a complete dick for essentially no reason. This was another thing he hated about his husband, for someone so damn cold and snobbish and aloof, he could pull the most heart wrenching faces; and when did he use them? Not in times of distress, like when his father went to Azkaban, oh no – he just looked angry when that happened, being a Malfoy and all, he couldn't really let anyone see just how vulnerable he felt. No, he saved his best, heartbreaking faces for times like this, when he really wanted to make an impact and/or make Harry feel like a complete bastard for being right. He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead in frustration. He couldn't help not being psychic, and to be honest, no matter how Draco dressed this one up, it just wasn't fair to expect Harry to perform like some cheap porn star actor with no script! Not that he could say that of course, because knowing that damn git, he'd fucking 'give' him a script, and not just to make a point.

How the hell was he supposed to make date night work when Draco's insatiable need to plan and construct and 'be elegant' always made things either tedious or too complex? It was just absurd…

Then it hit him.

"I have an idea."

Draco turned from the coffee he was making them both, still with a hint of sulking in his eyes (though, of course, the ever present 'indifferent Malfoy' look still in place). "And what would that be? 'Dutch' maid?"

"Funny." And kinda hot…he could imagine Draco with pigtail-plaits and lederhosen. But now wasn't the time…well, yet. "No, hear me out. How about he dig out some of that old enchanted parchment your Mother gave us last Christmas and do, like, a raffle type thing?"

"Fundraising? On date night? Harry,"

"No~, not like that. I mean, how about we write down little bits of our favourite fantasies and put them on bits of the enchanted parchment; then we'll put them in a hat or something, and get it to randomly select a piece and whatever it says we'll do."

Draco thought for a moment, this was an okay idea. Not particularly exciting because there was no immediate plan with the wonderment of fulfilling the blissful organisation (…'man' he had OCD…), but still interesting in the fact that the element of surprise was there. "Okay," he said with a tentative expression. "But what happens if it just says something like…I don't know. 'French Maid' for example. Knowing you it'll be something like that."

"Then that will be our starting point. The parchment will be slightly more specific, though not too much," Harry had to make this distinction, or else Draco would just write out another back-story for him. "It would be along the lines of 'Draco as a French maid', so we'll start with that. We'll do a bit of hot role-play, before we get the parchment to kick another one out, and we'll add that to the fantasy. Hence, a compromise."

"Okay," Draco was impressed at Harry's sudden excitement and imagination, but still a little tentative. The OCD in him couldn't let the possible consequences of his grand idea be. "But there's a problem." Harry looked puzzled. "Because, if we started with, say, 'Draco as a French maid', then…I don't know, 'Harry bent over a desk'," Harry gave him an 'oh-really?' look, earning a shrug from his husband, "Well, they don't really go together do they? I mean, if I'm supposed to be your submissive servant, then suddenly taking control and taking you in your office doesn't really make sense."

"You want to take me in my office?" They shared amused and slightly aroused looks before again, dealing with the issue at hand. Their date night was quickly slipping away after all.

"But you see what I mean?"

"Well yeah, but I also see that you haven't quite grasped the point. The point is that we don't plan anything – no costumes, no props, no nothing – and we just go with the chaotic flow and make it work. Your imagination is stimulated and my need for simple construction of scenario is met. I mean, yeah, things could get a bit convoluted, but it will have all been built up so simply that I'll be able to work with it and still work my sexy magic. Get me?" Draco had to laugh.

"I haven't seen you this animated in ages."

"I haven't had an idea this great in ages."

"It's kinda hot." Draco's sudden change in tone and stance either didn't bother Harry, or was just to excited to notice it. Either way, he carries on, unawares.

"Yeah? Wait till I start scribbling, then you'll have something to get hot over." And with that he ran out the kitchen and up to his study to find the afore mentioned parchment that would save their date night from disaster for once. In the heat of his inspiration however, he didn't notice Draco glide up after him, turning all the lights off downstairs and relinquishing his clothing along the way. When he arrived at the study door, he was met with the sight of Harry, almost desperately rooting through cupboards and bookshelves, so as not to loose his buzz before finding the item. He wasn't doing very well. So occupied was he that he didn't even notice Draco shut the office door and lower himself slowly into the leather swivel chair, the age-old Malfoy grin in place. He waited another couple of minutes, (oddly) patiently, before clearing his throat in a fashion reminiscent of his Hogwarts self – which shamelessly gave him even more of a semi (more than OCD, he was a narcissist).

Harry heard the cough and turned, curious, then slightly confused, then understanding and slightly aroused. As much as that face had taunted him throughout his teenage life, it was now (in the right setting) an opening piece for what was usually a rather hot session. Draco was obviously up for some improvisation, even without the wonderful 'lucky-dip' idea. Ever accommodating, Harry stood from the box he was rooting through and looked his husband in the eye. Draco was sat, legs crossed, elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his hands. He was so~ gorgeous.

Before Harry could ask what was next, Draco had gracefully pulled himself out of the chair and was walking slowly towards him, swaying his hips and batting his eyelashes in a most uncharacteristic manner. When he got to Harry, he paused, looking up at him (he'd rested his weight on one leg, so had dropped an inch or so below his husband), then ran a finger down the front of his shirt, flicking the buttons open as he did so and tugging the fabric out from where it had been tucked into Harry's work trousers. He then made his way, still swinging his hips, around to Harry's back and traced the lines of his Quiddich muscles through the material. The ebony-haired man caught his breath at the hormone-filled touch and before he could move, the piece was slipped from his shoulders and lightly folded over Draco's arm. Fully expecting the blond to just chuck the piece away and hurriedly tidy up later, Harry gave the man (who had now circled him completely and was back in front of him), a puzzled look. All became clear as Draco purred, in the best French accent he could muster: "And may I take ze shoes Monsieur Potter?"

Oh the joy. Harry immediately felt his flesh harden down south and wanted nothing more than to ravish this new character, suspenders or no. But he had to calm down, this was a role play after all. "Why of course Draco. Please," Draco nodded slowly and kept his eyes down and away in the most irresistibly submissive manner, before floating down to his knees and unlacing Harry's work shoes. He'd ran his hands down the man's body, purposefully pressing the growing bulge with a little more force than anywhere else before dealing with the shoes and once they were off, he glided his hands back up his legs to the buckle of his belt and fingered it softly. The movement was almost enough to send the man over the edge, but he just about held it together. This was so new from Draco, the aloof aristocrat. Now he was the obedient servant who was no doubt willing to meet Harry's every need, or so his very naked erection implied.

"Monsieur have very difficult day non? Monsieur need to, uh, 'relax' oui?" Harry tried to keep it together as he looked down into the mischievous eyes of his 'servant'.

"That's right Draco," he said as steadily as he could. "I do need to relax."

"Oui."

"So why don't you be a good little boy and ah~" Before he could do a thing, his trousers were down, boxers and all, and Draco was swallowing him whole. The pressure and the heat sent Harry dizzy and he had to support himself on a bookshelf to stop his legs giving out all together. One thing Draco did 'very' well was giving head. "Aah fu~ck!" Harry buck a little into the man's mouth, needing more, craving the feeling of his tongue against that throbbing vein. "Aah! Draco so goo~d-"

He was close, not dangerously, but he could feel it building. That warm pocket of liquid heat spreading in his lower abdomen as Draco assaulted his member with lips and tongue and teeth. He could feel it coming, and Draco knew him well enough to know it too. Harry felt his muscles tighten, the pressure build and his vision go bright as he reached his limit and-

"Ouch. Ah! Hey! Wa-! Draco! Ah!" Harry, frozen from shock and powerless from lack of climax, could only watch as his husband stared evilly up at him as he gripped ever tighter at the base of the penis he'd been earlier pleasuring. Desperate from need, Harry could only plead with his eyes, unable to move still from shock and confusion.

Still gripping him like a vice, Draco got to his feet and dragged Harry forward by his member, stopping him coming and completely dominating him. Once they were before the desk, Draco skilfully swung himself round behind Harry, with his grip still intact. From there, he grabbed his 'master's' neck and forced him down onto the table which he'd tidied only hours earlier. Harry was still frozen, yet had enough mobility to be able to grip the desk and shudder beneath the surprising strength of both the hands disabling him. Draco leaned forward and leant on Harry's back, pinning him in place with his weight and hence freeing up the hand at his neck to rummage in the little stationary divider (he'd made Harry buy) by the computer; at which point, the prisoner suddenly found his voice.

"D-Draco! What the Hell?" His voice was laced with pain and confusion and he jolted and whimpered at each of his captor's movements, but nothing seemed to get through. Draco found what he was looking for and, being the cold-hearted git that he was, ignored the shivering hero and wrapped the new-found elastic bands tightly around the base of the member where his other hand was holding. These in place, he was free to conduct the rest of his torture, starting with the onslaught of lubricated fingers against unsuspecting entrance. All the poor 'master' could do was sob and mewl in quick succession as he couldn't decide whether he was in pain or bliss. Draco lapped it up, sadistically enjoying every sound with every thrust or scissor of his digits and eventually illuminate Harry as to why this was happening to him.

"You 'ave mocked me for ze last time Monsieur Potter!" He said through an evil smile and harsh movements. "All ze time iz work, work, work et cruelty et oppression, but no more! I will show you what iz like to be controlled. I will 'ave my way with you, et you will come when I let you come, oui? Zis iz your punishment Monsieur, et you will see just 'ow cruel I can be, et I will enjoy it!"

With that cleared up and in the meantime his member slicked with lube, Draco harshly thrust into Harry to the hilt, blissing out as every last muscle in his body clenched and strained around him. Harry half moaned half screamed as Draco forced his way in, resting a moment before moving, slow but hard. The heat of it all went straight to Draco's head and before long he couldn't help but thrust faster and harder than before. Harry's screams of explanatives and encouragements urged him on, making more movement, more violence, until with each thrust, Harry's body would pound painfully into the desk in front of him, earning a half pained, half aroused "Aah~!" each time.

"Fuck Draco! So hard, so big, oh 'gods' you're so big, ah, ah, aah~, oh gods, ah! Fuck I can't! Please Draco I can't! Mmm, nee~d, ah! Need to come, need to so bad, FUCK! Aah~ Plea~se!"

"Beg me baby, tell me how bad you want it." Draco's exploit of power and the sounds Harry was making was almost too much for him, much more of this and he was done. With this in mind, he grunted through a violent thrust "Beg me!"

"Aah~! Oh Go~ds! Draco, baby, please- Ah! Hmm, please, please-please-'please'! Aah~! I'm 'begging' you baby! Want it so~ ba~d! Need it, need you, have to- Oh Gods! AAAH!" Just before his own, Draco ripped off the bands and rode out the strangling strength of Harry's climax, moaning his name loudly and shaking with relief. Harry shuddered with him, exhausted and entranced by the liquid heat spilled within him, marking him.

Draco pulled out, hazily drowning in the sight of his own seed spilling from his husband's entrance. He was aware of the mess on the floor and the desk; but in his current state he didn't care, and relaxed as his knees involuntarily gave beneath him.

Despite Draco's state, Harry was the first to slip from the desk and collapse in a battered, panting heap on the carpet, his husband soon to follow and take his rightful place beside him, head on his shoulder and hand on his chest. They both just lay, catching their breath and staring at each other in wonderment. Neither quite knew where that came from.

Once partially recovered, they shared a gentle embrace – Draco moving over to allow Harry to lie still – and resumed their places silently.

Draco was first to speak: "Um…are you okay?"

"Hmm? Mm hmm."

"Are you sure? I was…er, a bit rough with you."

"A bit!" Harry bolted upright and cringed at the feeling. Draco's expression suddenly turned from one of guilt to utmost concern as he stated fussing over Harry, trying to get him to lie down and such, but the man was a Gryffindor (whether he was at Hogwarts or not, he was still a Gryffindor), therefore he could have no one thinking he couldn't take a little twinge…no matter how painful that twinge might be. If it wasn't a Quiddich injury and wasn't a broken bone, it wasn't worth fussing over. Draco of course did not share this view.

At any rate, Harry managed to convince the fussing spouse that he was fine and returned to the original issue: "Where the heck did that come from? The accent, the bands, the beating…wh-, what in Merlin's scriptures was that!"

"I'm so sorry Harry, I don't know what came over me! We'd just talked about all this spontaneity and then I saw my opportunity and, and…I don't know, I'm just so sorry!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" He threw his arms around the blond and stroked his hair. He'd gone pale and his eyes full of fear, he was literally worried sick. "Don't say sorry, it was great. A little surprising but…wow." Draco pulled away from him and gave him the most astounded 'seriously?' look he'd ever given. "Really baby, that was…well damn that was hot! I can't believe how forceful you were, I mean you've never-"

"But I hurt you-"

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did Harry, don't pull that one."

"So what? You didn't do any harm, except I'm gonna have to cover up some terrific bruises." Draco looked down and away. Ashamed. "Hey," Harry pulled his gaze back to his own. "If it had been getting too much for me, or I'd really not been into it, I'd have said so, right? Did you hear me say 'no'? Even once?" Draco shook his head. "Well there you go then. See? It's all cool." Draco still didn't look convinced, until Harry engulfed him in an emotionally charged kiss. As they broke away, Draco pressed against Harry's beautifully chiselled chest, they looked into each others eyes and simultaneously smiled. They were cool.

Harry stood and pulled Draco up with him. He felt a slight twinge somewhere down below, but ignored it. He was too happy to care. "You have to admit though," he said with his arm around his husband as they walked naked to their bedroom. "That was pretty hot."

"Yes, yes it was…" he hesitated.

"…? Yes it was 'what'?"

"Hot."

"No, the hesitation…what?"

"Well I was just thinking," they both climbed into bed and snuggled together under the covers.

"Yeah?"

"Well…your idea…next date night?" There was a pause before Harry beamed and claimed the blond's mouth again.

"Sure thing baby." They both smiled and tried to sleep, but something was nagging at Harry's brain. "…"

"Hmm? What is it?"

"…I have a Ministry physical tomorrow."

"So?"

"So, how many bruises and love bites did you leave me?"

"…hehe." The mischief was back. Harry had to smile and shake his head.

"Git."

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And that is that.

Please tell me what you thought and I HOPE you enjoyed – if not, sorry for wasting your time.

If this is anything close to reasonable, and people actually like it, I'll put up something about Harry's idea actually coming to fruition. But that's only if people like it. If not, then I'm not going to waste anyone else's time with a sequel, so if you'd like something like that PLEASE REVIEW and LET ME KNOW!

Hope you guys enjoyed,

Until next time ^,^

xxxx