Hey there, fellow slashers! This is just some random shit I typed up,
because I was in the mood for some Draco and Harry nonsense.
Title: Rebel Rebel (Just because I happen to like that song.)
Rating: In my mind, really only about a PG-15ish...but I just went the next rating up.
Disclaimer: No....I do NOT own them. Please stop rubbing it into my face, corporate bullshitters.
That little first section is the tagline to this fic. I might continue...I'm not sure.
And I'm not entirely positive that this is all that original....I read so much fan fiction it's hard for me to remember if something has been "done" before.....there really is only so many ways to slash hot bois. So if this starts to sound like something you've either read or written yourself....my deepest apologies. I really didn't mean to do it. Thanks.
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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a strange place.
The people inside are even stranger.
**************************************************************
"Look at you. You, with your smooth alabaster skin, your delicate form, your aristocratic features.......Beautiful. I cannot restrain myself from touching you, and I shall not ever, because you are not afraid to die for me, my stunning friend. No......wait. The label friend does not do you justice. You are my love, my world, my very life. And I die a little each time I am with you, and I willing do so because you caress places in me that no one else ever could. Oh yes, you-"
"Potter!"
Harry Potter jumped in surprise at the sudden sharp use of his name, almost dropping his ciggarette in the process. He fumbled with it for a moment, breathing a sigh of relief when he had a tight grasp on it again. He glared darkly at the verbal offender for the unexpected endangerment to his smoky treasure, but all he was rewarded with in reply for his efforts to induce a contrite apology was an infuriatingly lazy roll of silver eyes.
"I REALLY wish you would stop doing that." Harry's companion drawled slowly with a tone of irritation.
"Stop doing what?" Harry snapped before taking a deep drag, the smoke burning his throat as it made its way to his lungs.......oh yeah.
"Don't play dumb, Potter. You know I hate it when you talk to your fag."
Harry didn't reply for a moment, savoring the last of his ciggarette, because that's just what you're supposed to do, naturally.
He stamped the butt out in a nearby ashtray, which was already over-flowing with the remains of his past loves. (Ciggarrettes, that is.)
He gazed sadly at the ashtray for a moment. 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.' he thought to himself with an air of melancholy.
Just then a cool breeze blew in from the open window before him, ruffling his raven black hair and causing him to shiver slightly as it played across the bare skin of his upper torso.
He jumped up out of his chair and closed it quickly, before glancing at the bedside clock.
"Shit!" he screeched, scrambling around the room to collect his clothing that had been hastily discarded the previous night from the dorm room floor.
He hurriedly wormed his legs into his pantlegs, nearly losing his balance as he tried to pull them up while still standing on them.
He was fighting madly with his T-shirt, trying to find the proper hole in which to insert his head when he heard it......laughter. The most beautiful laughter in the world, as cheezy as that may sound, so come off it, you bastards.
Harry stared at the other boy lounging languorously in the silver and green bedding, an arrogant smirk present on his delicate pale face.
"As much as I appreciate a fashion rebel, Potter, I don't think the world is quite yet ready for THAT daring of a style."
Harry only then noticed that he had accidently pushed his head through the wrong hole in his haste. He rolled his own eyes at the boy, a flash of green and white.
'See how he likes THAT, pompous little bastard.' Harry thought, not without a feeling of fondness for the other boy.
He turned around and tried to retrieve his head from the restricting cloth, jerking wildy. There was a sudden sound of cheap American made 100% cotton cloth (discount bin, $4.99) ripping, and Harry suddenly found himself on the floor, his already sore arse screaming in indignation for being squashed so brutally.
There it was again, that low tinkling laughter, reminiscent of the little bells small Muggle children would ring outside during Christmas time. Of course Harry was never allowed to participate in that tradition, or any else, because his Aunt and Uncle were stupid, controlling wankers that-
"Perhaps you should apply for classes at Hummerdrum, Potter. I hear they have a lovely summer program." The other boy was now propped up on one elbow, his silver blonde hair slighty touseled. (Hummerdrum is a school for mentally-handicapped wizards and witches, the poor things.)
Harry scrambled up from the floor, rubbing his arse with a grimace of pain. He then proceeded to rip off the remains of the T-shirt, disdainfully fingering the cheap cloth before throwing it behind him with disgust.
He stood there bare from the waist up, glowering at the other boy who was watching him with amusement written all over his well-bred features.
'He NEVER gets bedhead, the little prat.' Harry thought darkly, scowling at the other boy's nearly-immaculate silver-blonde hair. 'He looks like he just walked out of a salon.'
'Well? Can you not talk? Or are you just stunned into silence by my overwhelming beauty?" The blonde boy smiled at his own comment, obviously thinking himself quite funny. No, scratch that......he thought himself fucking hilarious.
"Oh, I'm sorry Malfoy. I thought it bothered you when I talked to my fag."
Puzzlement flashed across the other boy's features for a moment, wrinkling his fair brow ever so slightly. The wrinkle disappeared the next instance with realization, much to Harry's deep regret. He loved that wrinkle.....he loved a LOT of Draco's wrinkles, actually. ESPECIALLY the one on his-
"Ha ha, Potter. Very funny. You should give up wizardry and become a Muggle comedian. I guess it wouldn't too much of a stretch for you, since you already lack any useful magic ability.........except you CAN create quite a bit of magic with that tongue of yours....."
"Oh, sod off Malfoy."
The other boy sat up suddenly at this, the green satin sheet slipping down to expose a smooth pale hipbone. Harry gulped hard at the erotic clash of color, in spite of himself.
"Actually, that's exactly what I had in mind." Draco replied, grinning devilishly.
Harry still transfixed by that perfect hipbone, stood in what seemed like suspended motion before he realized where he was, and more importantly, what time.
"Um, as much as I would love to stay here and have hot ferret sex all day," (that remark issued another wrinkle in Draco's brow, much to Harry's delight)
"I think it would be a better idea to sort of get dressed and go to class, don't you think? Darling?" Harry asked in mock gentleness, as if he were addressing a simple child....or Neville. Choose your level of simpleness.
Draco considered him coolly for a moment, and then held his arms out to Harry, pouting.
'He actually DOES look like a small child', Harry thought to himself, disturbed by his sudden arousal.
Harry stumbled across the room to the large bed, his gaze locked to those full, sinful lips engaged in a mockery of childish innocence. After what seemed like an eternity (but was really only like, 6.8 seconds), he finally reached the bed.
Harry scrambled onto the bed, into Draco's lean, pale arms. The fair boy pulled Harry on top of him, long, slim legs wrapping around the raven haired boy's waist. He gasped when he felt the other boy's arousal pressing into his stomach, his own throbbing with sudden need.
Draco wrapped his long slim fingers into Harry's hair, pleased by the sharp contrast in color. He then pulled Harry down for a long heated kiss, smug (and a little disgusted) by the other boy's eagerness. Harry's tongue was humping his like a dog in heat, and Draco was disturbed to find himself aroused by this thought. Of course, Draco himself was surprised by what imagery his perverted mind could conjure when in the heat of passion.......or when he was extremely horny. Whatever. He had more important things to worry about....like his Herbology exam tomorrow. Oh, and the squirming boy on top of him, of course.
Both boys simultaneously pulled away for air, gasping hard. After they had caught their breath, Harry leaned down for another kiss, but Draco held his hand out in front of the other boy's face. He reached up and took off the Harry's glasses, setting them almost tenderly on the nightstand beside them.
(The same glasses that had been ran over, stomped on , dropped 50 feet to the hard ground below, and were even EATEN once by a very malnourished Blast-ended Screwt.....which was none other than Draco's, by the way. The moral of this seemingly random paragraph......if Draco decides that something is precious, then it damn well is. Oh, and the author has no life.)
Draco then reached his hand up, first brushing away Harry's hair that hung in his eyes (the wanker behaved as if he had never heard the term "hair cut"), before tracing that famous scar, causing Harry to shiver ever so slightly from the tickling, tingling sensation........in his pants. Draco grinned in delight when he felt THAT particular reaction, but decided to continue his exploration of the other boy's face despite his natural instinct to shag the boy senseless.
His fingers traveled down Harry's forehead, along the bridge of his nose, softly traced his lips, and finally down to the end of his chin, and he suddenly craned his neck up and kissed the end of it, surprising himself even more than Harry by this tender, playful gesture.
Harry was holding his breath the whole time that Draco was feeling his face, afraid to startle this strange, gentle creature away.....and he was also fighting the urge to cream in his pants.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he felt the quick, yet firm kiss to the end of his chin, and he propped himself up higher on his elbows for a better perspective of the fair boy beneath him.
Draco's face was blurred without the aid of his glasses, but this sense of mystery just aroused Harry even more. He felt a strange twinge of something......in his heart. The twinge in his pants wasn't strange, it was just starting to get impatient and painful. Easy, boy. This boy isn't too easy.
Draco also felt a twinge......in his pants. His heart felt like it was aching, however, and that strange feeling confused him. He gazed up into those jungle green eyes that had become so familiar to him in the past few months, and just couldn't help himself.
"You're beautiful." He blurted out suddenly, internally beating himself with a mental fuzzy pillow. (What, you thought that he was going to ACTUALLY hurt himself? Come on, he's a MALFOY, after all!) Speaking of Malfoys, that wasn't a very Malfoy thing to do, expressing his feelings. He was sure to be punished somehow by the Powers-That-See........him disgracing his family name and looking like a total ass, that is. He cringed on the inside, but was the physical embodiment of cool on the outside......and waited for Harry's reaction.
Harry just blinked down at him in surprise for a moment, too shocked to say anything. This wasn't exactly the behavior he had associated with Draco. Often borderline psychotic, sure. But gentle and romantic? It just made Harry want to violently shake the pale boy and demand Draco to tell him where he was hiding the Prozac. Until he had a right genius idea.......well, maybe not GENIUS. But it was still pretty damn spiffy.
"You're crazy." Harry replied a moment later, a big stupid grin plastered on his face. The bastard almost looked drunk......on love, baby.
"And YOU owe ME 95 minutes of my life for forcing me to watch that stupid muggle moo-vie." Draco drawled, his trademark rolling of the eyes coinciding with his mis-pronunciation of the word.
Harry decided to let that one slide, his amusement at Draco's blatant hatred for the movie "Crazy/Beautiful" make him feel forgiving. The blonde boy refused to watch another movie, he was so disgusted just by the thought of anything to do with it. Harry couldn't understand what his problem was....he thought it was pretty good, actually. And he was itching to get him, Draco and some gay p0rn in the same room together......he was pretty sure THAT would change the other boy's mind about muggle "moo-vies".
Speaking of itching.....his little buddy was itching to get out of these pants. Harry leaned down and pecked Draco on the end of his up-turned nose, which was rewarded by the CUTEST little half scowl, half-smirk EVER....oh man. I gotta lay off the pink bubble gum. I'm starting to sound like Parvati and Lavender.
Harry reached between them, his fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans. Draco's slim fingers suddenly intercepted his own thicker ones, and Harry fully understood the insolent little smirk on the other boy's face. He was silently mocking Harry's fingers, which he always teasingly told Harry were stubby and felt like the feet of his eagle-owl. It wasn't like his was HIS fault his fingers were so buff and manly.......and he was going to remind Draco of the fact that they were all buff and manly. So......hah.
Harry gasped when he felt the other boy unlock his legs from Harry's waist, which was replaced by a groan when he felt small smooth hands begin to push his jeans down past his hipbones.
He growled huskily in his throat when the blonde boy grasped his stiff erection, and couldn't help but laugh outloud when the other boy asked in his most normal, Malfoyish voice:
"So....are we still going to go to class or not?"
Title: Rebel Rebel (Just because I happen to like that song.)
Rating: In my mind, really only about a PG-15ish...but I just went the next rating up.
Disclaimer: No....I do NOT own them. Please stop rubbing it into my face, corporate bullshitters.
That little first section is the tagline to this fic. I might continue...I'm not sure.
And I'm not entirely positive that this is all that original....I read so much fan fiction it's hard for me to remember if something has been "done" before.....there really is only so many ways to slash hot bois. So if this starts to sound like something you've either read or written yourself....my deepest apologies. I really didn't mean to do it. Thanks.
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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a strange place.
The people inside are even stranger.
**************************************************************
"Look at you. You, with your smooth alabaster skin, your delicate form, your aristocratic features.......Beautiful. I cannot restrain myself from touching you, and I shall not ever, because you are not afraid to die for me, my stunning friend. No......wait. The label friend does not do you justice. You are my love, my world, my very life. And I die a little each time I am with you, and I willing do so because you caress places in me that no one else ever could. Oh yes, you-"
"Potter!"
Harry Potter jumped in surprise at the sudden sharp use of his name, almost dropping his ciggarette in the process. He fumbled with it for a moment, breathing a sigh of relief when he had a tight grasp on it again. He glared darkly at the verbal offender for the unexpected endangerment to his smoky treasure, but all he was rewarded with in reply for his efforts to induce a contrite apology was an infuriatingly lazy roll of silver eyes.
"I REALLY wish you would stop doing that." Harry's companion drawled slowly with a tone of irritation.
"Stop doing what?" Harry snapped before taking a deep drag, the smoke burning his throat as it made its way to his lungs.......oh yeah.
"Don't play dumb, Potter. You know I hate it when you talk to your fag."
Harry didn't reply for a moment, savoring the last of his ciggarette, because that's just what you're supposed to do, naturally.
He stamped the butt out in a nearby ashtray, which was already over-flowing with the remains of his past loves. (Ciggarrettes, that is.)
He gazed sadly at the ashtray for a moment. 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.' he thought to himself with an air of melancholy.
Just then a cool breeze blew in from the open window before him, ruffling his raven black hair and causing him to shiver slightly as it played across the bare skin of his upper torso.
He jumped up out of his chair and closed it quickly, before glancing at the bedside clock.
"Shit!" he screeched, scrambling around the room to collect his clothing that had been hastily discarded the previous night from the dorm room floor.
He hurriedly wormed his legs into his pantlegs, nearly losing his balance as he tried to pull them up while still standing on them.
He was fighting madly with his T-shirt, trying to find the proper hole in which to insert his head when he heard it......laughter. The most beautiful laughter in the world, as cheezy as that may sound, so come off it, you bastards.
Harry stared at the other boy lounging languorously in the silver and green bedding, an arrogant smirk present on his delicate pale face.
"As much as I appreciate a fashion rebel, Potter, I don't think the world is quite yet ready for THAT daring of a style."
Harry only then noticed that he had accidently pushed his head through the wrong hole in his haste. He rolled his own eyes at the boy, a flash of green and white.
'See how he likes THAT, pompous little bastard.' Harry thought, not without a feeling of fondness for the other boy.
He turned around and tried to retrieve his head from the restricting cloth, jerking wildy. There was a sudden sound of cheap American made 100% cotton cloth (discount bin, $4.99) ripping, and Harry suddenly found himself on the floor, his already sore arse screaming in indignation for being squashed so brutally.
There it was again, that low tinkling laughter, reminiscent of the little bells small Muggle children would ring outside during Christmas time. Of course Harry was never allowed to participate in that tradition, or any else, because his Aunt and Uncle were stupid, controlling wankers that-
"Perhaps you should apply for classes at Hummerdrum, Potter. I hear they have a lovely summer program." The other boy was now propped up on one elbow, his silver blonde hair slighty touseled. (Hummerdrum is a school for mentally-handicapped wizards and witches, the poor things.)
Harry scrambled up from the floor, rubbing his arse with a grimace of pain. He then proceeded to rip off the remains of the T-shirt, disdainfully fingering the cheap cloth before throwing it behind him with disgust.
He stood there bare from the waist up, glowering at the other boy who was watching him with amusement written all over his well-bred features.
'He NEVER gets bedhead, the little prat.' Harry thought darkly, scowling at the other boy's nearly-immaculate silver-blonde hair. 'He looks like he just walked out of a salon.'
'Well? Can you not talk? Or are you just stunned into silence by my overwhelming beauty?" The blonde boy smiled at his own comment, obviously thinking himself quite funny. No, scratch that......he thought himself fucking hilarious.
"Oh, I'm sorry Malfoy. I thought it bothered you when I talked to my fag."
Puzzlement flashed across the other boy's features for a moment, wrinkling his fair brow ever so slightly. The wrinkle disappeared the next instance with realization, much to Harry's deep regret. He loved that wrinkle.....he loved a LOT of Draco's wrinkles, actually. ESPECIALLY the one on his-
"Ha ha, Potter. Very funny. You should give up wizardry and become a Muggle comedian. I guess it wouldn't too much of a stretch for you, since you already lack any useful magic ability.........except you CAN create quite a bit of magic with that tongue of yours....."
"Oh, sod off Malfoy."
The other boy sat up suddenly at this, the green satin sheet slipping down to expose a smooth pale hipbone. Harry gulped hard at the erotic clash of color, in spite of himself.
"Actually, that's exactly what I had in mind." Draco replied, grinning devilishly.
Harry still transfixed by that perfect hipbone, stood in what seemed like suspended motion before he realized where he was, and more importantly, what time.
"Um, as much as I would love to stay here and have hot ferret sex all day," (that remark issued another wrinkle in Draco's brow, much to Harry's delight)
"I think it would be a better idea to sort of get dressed and go to class, don't you think? Darling?" Harry asked in mock gentleness, as if he were addressing a simple child....or Neville. Choose your level of simpleness.
Draco considered him coolly for a moment, and then held his arms out to Harry, pouting.
'He actually DOES look like a small child', Harry thought to himself, disturbed by his sudden arousal.
Harry stumbled across the room to the large bed, his gaze locked to those full, sinful lips engaged in a mockery of childish innocence. After what seemed like an eternity (but was really only like, 6.8 seconds), he finally reached the bed.
Harry scrambled onto the bed, into Draco's lean, pale arms. The fair boy pulled Harry on top of him, long, slim legs wrapping around the raven haired boy's waist. He gasped when he felt the other boy's arousal pressing into his stomach, his own throbbing with sudden need.
Draco wrapped his long slim fingers into Harry's hair, pleased by the sharp contrast in color. He then pulled Harry down for a long heated kiss, smug (and a little disgusted) by the other boy's eagerness. Harry's tongue was humping his like a dog in heat, and Draco was disturbed to find himself aroused by this thought. Of course, Draco himself was surprised by what imagery his perverted mind could conjure when in the heat of passion.......or when he was extremely horny. Whatever. He had more important things to worry about....like his Herbology exam tomorrow. Oh, and the squirming boy on top of him, of course.
Both boys simultaneously pulled away for air, gasping hard. After they had caught their breath, Harry leaned down for another kiss, but Draco held his hand out in front of the other boy's face. He reached up and took off the Harry's glasses, setting them almost tenderly on the nightstand beside them.
(The same glasses that had been ran over, stomped on , dropped 50 feet to the hard ground below, and were even EATEN once by a very malnourished Blast-ended Screwt.....which was none other than Draco's, by the way. The moral of this seemingly random paragraph......if Draco decides that something is precious, then it damn well is. Oh, and the author has no life.)
Draco then reached his hand up, first brushing away Harry's hair that hung in his eyes (the wanker behaved as if he had never heard the term "hair cut"), before tracing that famous scar, causing Harry to shiver ever so slightly from the tickling, tingling sensation........in his pants. Draco grinned in delight when he felt THAT particular reaction, but decided to continue his exploration of the other boy's face despite his natural instinct to shag the boy senseless.
His fingers traveled down Harry's forehead, along the bridge of his nose, softly traced his lips, and finally down to the end of his chin, and he suddenly craned his neck up and kissed the end of it, surprising himself even more than Harry by this tender, playful gesture.
Harry was holding his breath the whole time that Draco was feeling his face, afraid to startle this strange, gentle creature away.....and he was also fighting the urge to cream in his pants.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he felt the quick, yet firm kiss to the end of his chin, and he propped himself up higher on his elbows for a better perspective of the fair boy beneath him.
Draco's face was blurred without the aid of his glasses, but this sense of mystery just aroused Harry even more. He felt a strange twinge of something......in his heart. The twinge in his pants wasn't strange, it was just starting to get impatient and painful. Easy, boy. This boy isn't too easy.
Draco also felt a twinge......in his pants. His heart felt like it was aching, however, and that strange feeling confused him. He gazed up into those jungle green eyes that had become so familiar to him in the past few months, and just couldn't help himself.
"You're beautiful." He blurted out suddenly, internally beating himself with a mental fuzzy pillow. (What, you thought that he was going to ACTUALLY hurt himself? Come on, he's a MALFOY, after all!) Speaking of Malfoys, that wasn't a very Malfoy thing to do, expressing his feelings. He was sure to be punished somehow by the Powers-That-See........him disgracing his family name and looking like a total ass, that is. He cringed on the inside, but was the physical embodiment of cool on the outside......and waited for Harry's reaction.
Harry just blinked down at him in surprise for a moment, too shocked to say anything. This wasn't exactly the behavior he had associated with Draco. Often borderline psychotic, sure. But gentle and romantic? It just made Harry want to violently shake the pale boy and demand Draco to tell him where he was hiding the Prozac. Until he had a right genius idea.......well, maybe not GENIUS. But it was still pretty damn spiffy.
"You're crazy." Harry replied a moment later, a big stupid grin plastered on his face. The bastard almost looked drunk......on love, baby.
"And YOU owe ME 95 minutes of my life for forcing me to watch that stupid muggle moo-vie." Draco drawled, his trademark rolling of the eyes coinciding with his mis-pronunciation of the word.
Harry decided to let that one slide, his amusement at Draco's blatant hatred for the movie "Crazy/Beautiful" make him feel forgiving. The blonde boy refused to watch another movie, he was so disgusted just by the thought of anything to do with it. Harry couldn't understand what his problem was....he thought it was pretty good, actually. And he was itching to get him, Draco and some gay p0rn in the same room together......he was pretty sure THAT would change the other boy's mind about muggle "moo-vies".
Speaking of itching.....his little buddy was itching to get out of these pants. Harry leaned down and pecked Draco on the end of his up-turned nose, which was rewarded by the CUTEST little half scowl, half-smirk EVER....oh man. I gotta lay off the pink bubble gum. I'm starting to sound like Parvati and Lavender.
Harry reached between them, his fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans. Draco's slim fingers suddenly intercepted his own thicker ones, and Harry fully understood the insolent little smirk on the other boy's face. He was silently mocking Harry's fingers, which he always teasingly told Harry were stubby and felt like the feet of his eagle-owl. It wasn't like his was HIS fault his fingers were so buff and manly.......and he was going to remind Draco of the fact that they were all buff and manly. So......hah.
Harry gasped when he felt the other boy unlock his legs from Harry's waist, which was replaced by a groan when he felt small smooth hands begin to push his jeans down past his hipbones.
He growled huskily in his throat when the blonde boy grasped his stiff erection, and couldn't help but laugh outloud when the other boy asked in his most normal, Malfoyish voice:
"So....are we still going to go to class or not?"