Disclaimer: I do not own the fine world of Harry Potter. It rightfully belongs to Miss J.K. Rowling.

Full Summary: Draco is out in the backyard, raking leaves. Harry decides to 'help.'

Warnings: Slash. And fluff. Lots and lots of fluff.

Autumn Leaves

It was a crisp autumn day, and Draco Malfoy was out in the backyard of his small suburban home, raking leaves into small piles. Why didn't he just use magic, you might ask? Well, there was a bet between himself and Harry: whoever could down the most chocolate frogs without throwing up could top that night. Whoever lost had to rake leaves the next day the 'muggle way.' Draco had never stopped to consider his rather weak stomach. And he lost. All over Harry's expensive Chinese rug, none the less.

So Draco had had his fun with his lover that night, and then had awoken the next day to find said lover brandishing a rake and a wicked grin. Even now the thought made Draco grimace and lift his foot to roughly dislodge a small stick from the impressive pile of leaves he was raking up.

His arms were already stiff, and exhaustion beat mercilessly at his brain. Draco had never thought that muggles had it this hard. He could almost conjure up a bit of sympathy for them. Almost.

He lifted his frozen, glove-clad fingers to tug grudgingly at the green-and-silver striped scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. The pale skin not protected by said scarf was rosy red and raw from the merciless wind sweeping through the lattice-work of branches stretching across the forget-me-not sky above. His hair was mussed and tangled from the lashing winds, falling in pale strands around his angry-red cheeks and into the collar of his zipped black coat. It was a rather pitiful sight, to say the least.

And Harry Potter couldn't help but to laugh from his perch at the window in the kitchen. He was warm and cozy, wrapped in a fleece sweater inside his and Draco's small home, arms crossed and perched on the windowsill as he gazed out at his wind-bitten lover. Pangs of amusement worked their way into his chest whenever Draco would attempt to shovel the piles of leaves into trash bags and misdirect his aim, only to throw down the bag and begin cursing shamelessly up at the heavens through the meager protection of his striped scarf.

Harry also couldn't stop the pity that struck him whenever Draco would accidentally tip over a pile of perfectly raked leaves that would almost instantaneously get scattered back around the yard from the harsh winds blowing through.

After almost thirty minutes of giggling at Draco's failed attempts to properly rake the yard, Harry sighed and slid from his wooden stool. It was with silent grace that he shuffled into the hallway and slid down the pristine white wall to the floor, beside a small wooden bench from which several coats were hanging above even more expensive pairs of shoes, thanks to Draco's rich parents.

Harry plucked a simple pair of brown dragon-skin boots from the bench, and after they were tucked snugly over the legs of his blue jeans, he picked a red coat from the array hanging off hooks above the bench, slipping it easily over his arms and around his middle. It only took him about thirty more seconds to zip it up to his chin, pull on a pair of gloves, wrap a scarf around his neck, pull a cap over his unruly crown of black hair, and stow his wand in the waistband of his jeans (just in case).

Then he sidled back into the kitchen, a mischievous smile playing over his lips. He slid out the kitchen door, pulling the screen door silently closed behind him, and then stood quietly by the entrance way, simply watching as the oblivious Draco continued struggling with the red and golden leaves littered over the frosty ground.

Harry waited until he heard his lover give a small sigh of appreciation as he finally managed to properly rake up an entire pile of leaves without too much trouble. Then the shorter wizard slunk out from his hiding place, the devious grin still playing on his lips, and up behind the working blond man.

Draco had just lifted the rake to start in on a blanket of the colorful deviants spread at his feet, when a pair of warm, strong arms slid around his waist from behind and pulled him flush against a hard chest. The rake fell from his gloved grasp and hit the ground at his feet with a loud thud as Draco's stormy grey eyes went wide and his jaw lax. His fingers itched to go toward his back pocket, which was ironically wandless, and his spine stiffened against the warm abdomen behind him.

Then a low voice spoke against his ear, "'Morning, love."

Draco visibly relaxed against the warm body behind him, a sigh escaping him as he tilted his back against a clothed chest. "Merlin, Harry," he sighed into the thin material of his scarf. "You scared me half to death."

Harry's answering chuckle sent vibrations rocking deliciously through Draco's gut, eliciting a shiver from the blond man. Harry grinned against his lover's frigid cheek at the obvious reaction.

"Miss me?" he purred against Draco's ear; the warm gust air against Draco's chilly skin drew another pleasant shudder from the taller wizard. He leaned back into Harry's chest and smiled in an exhausted sort of way.

"Of course," he sighed, turning his face to bump his nose lovingly against Harry's. "But I miss our warm, cozy bed more." He paused long enough to reach up and tug the fabric of his scarf away from his now-grinning mouth before continuing. "With you in it, of course."

Harry grinned back at the obvious attempt to get out of work, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Draco's smiling mouth. "Nice try, love," he murmured once they parted. "But you know the deal."

Draco sighed and turned his gaze back to the leaf-scattered yard spread out before them. "Yeah, yeah. I know," he mumbled grudgingly.

Harry could only laugh and kiss him again.

They stood like that for a few more minutes, Draco leaning back into Harry's warm embrace and smiling softly whenever Harry would succumb to his impromptu urges and press a warm kiss to the blond's reddened cheek or temple. And then Harry decided to break the comfortable silence:

"Mind if I help?"

Draco, broken out of a peaceful lull as he sagged against his shorter lover's chest, turned his face to direct a pale, arched brow and suspiciously pursed lips back at the raven-haired wizard. "What?" he asked when Harry made no attempt to clarify.

Harry rolled his eyes behind his round spectacles, but his low chuckle against Draco's ear ruined his attempts to seem aggravated. "I said, do you mind if I help?" He lifted one hand from its comfortable position on Draco's flat abdomen to gesture at the leaf-strewn backyard. "With the raking. If you want," he added, and shot a reassuring smile at Draco when both of the blond wizard's pale eyebrows raised up to meet his hairline.

When Harry remained serious-faced, Draco allowed a grin to roll slowly across his red, wind-bitten features behind the thin scarf. "As if you even have to ask!"

Harry laughed again, removing his arms from around Draco's slender waist with one impatient tug of the blond's gloved hand on his elbow. Draco bent over once he was released, curled his fingers around the handle of the previously abandoned rake, and lifted it easily from the frosty ground. When he straightened up and turned back to face his lover, he was holding out his free hand with an air of impatient demand.

It took Harry a few seconds to realize the meaning behind the blond's expectantly outstretched fingers, but when it finally clicked his hand was instantly at the waistband of his jeans, removing his wand from its familiar position against his bony hip. He handed it willingly over, eyebrows raised, and Draco absentmindedly tossed the rake to him once he had retrieved the wand.

Draco held the slender wooden staff up and made a little motion through the air, mumbling "Accio Rake!" as he did so.

There were a few seconds of tense silence. And then, with a rustle of leaves and a sharp whistling sound, a silver-toothed, red-handled rake came cutting through the air from the direction of the neighbor's yard, where it landed neatly in Draco's expectantly open palm. He shot a leisure grin at the amused expression residing on Harry's own face, then turned on his heel and cut swiftly across the yard to the corner, where a thick blanket of fire-red leaves was piled haphazardly against the painted wooden fence pickets, pausing just long enough to call to Harry, "Get on it, pretty boy!" before he started in on the golden and red menaces scattered at his feet.

Harry rolled his eyes at the determination of the blond wizard, before obediently turning around and strolling to the opposite corner of the yard, where a smaller pile of leaves was strewn around a cluster of rose bushes along the side of the house.

As he worked, trailing the gleaming teeth of the rake over the frosty ground, Harry began sweating under the protection of his cap. As noon made way for one o' clock, and one rolled slowly around into two, Harry found himself silently cursing his Gryffindor instincts. Damn being helpful and courageous! he thought viciously.

Another hour passed, Draco also working his way silently around the yard, his own rake scraping furiously over the frozen ground, sweat gleaming at his temples and his brow furrowed with concentration beneath the messy strands of tangled blond hair strewn over his pale forehead.

The wind continued to whip violently around them as Harry finished with his side of the yard and most of the middle, working his way in slowly towards the center of the backyard, where nothing but a small patchwork of leaves lay among the frozen blades of grass and frosty weeds. A sense of relief washed over him as he began piling up the thankfully small layer of leaves into a fire-bright pile, taking care to arrange every portion of leaf into a neat hill of color atop the frozen ground.

Looking up wearily once he was finally, finally finished, Harry felt his numb fingers slowly unfurl around the handle of the wretched rake at the unexpected sight spread out before him. Draco, his confident, graceful, gorgeous Malfoy, was lying spread-eagled on the frosty ground beneath the soles of Harry's boots, his arms bent at the elbows amongst the stiff grass and weeds and wrists folded behind his head; his legs were spread casually beside an impressive pile of neatly raked leaves and boots toed off to rest beside said leaves; his jaw was lax with weary content as his storm-like grey gaze focused up on the random patches of crisp blue sky visible through the lattice-work of brittle branches above; his long, gloved fingers tugged idly on the wintry strands of pale blond hair that swept messily over the hard ground underneath him. It was a captivating sight, to say the least.

And Harry found himself edging unconsciously away from the forgotten rake and toward the entrancing sight with little thought running through his mind besides how much he wanted to capture those casually parted pink lips with his own.

He couldn't help himself from succumbing to said urges. And with no warning besides a low chuckle of primal desire in the back of his throat, Harry darted forward and settled himself gracefully into the side of his resting lover.

Draco's eyes darted, wide and sharp silver, toward Harry's face at the sudden intrusion, his spine stiffening against the hard ground beneath him out of pure instinct. But he quickly relaxed when he saw the adorably rosy cheeks and familiar, bespectacled green eyes of his boyfriend gazing back at him. His hand came up to absently touch the back of the gloved one resting on his abdomen, whilst his amused gaze returned wearily back to the naked branches and splotches of swiftly darkening sky he had been previously studying. Grinning slightly beneath his scarf, he said to the dark-haired boy above him,

"You think you're so-"

What exactly Draco thought his lover was, we'll never get to know, because an impatient hand suddenly tugged against the scarf around his wind-bitten face, pulling and lifting until the striped fabric was over the blond's head and lying amongst a pile of raked amber leaves beside him. Said blond turned wide, disbelieving eyes on a grinning Harry, who was hovering above him like a Dementor preparing to unleash the Kiss. Only when he leaned down and captured Draco's lips with his own in a slow, experienced movement, it was much softer and sweeter than what Draco would expect the Dementor's Kiss to be like.

The blond wizard smiled and leaned contently up into the impromptu kiss, deepening it with a small tilt of his neck and a rough tug of his gloved fingers on Harry's coat collar; he pulled the obliviously smiling, unprepared boy on top of him with a satisfying 'Oof!' and the heavy warmth of a body pressed flush against his own settled pleasantly into every crevice of Draco's abdomen as he curled his cloth-clad fingers around Harry's bony hips and held tightly.

"God, I love you," Harry murmured breathlessly between them as his slid his hands down the hard dirt at Draco's shoulders so as not to crush the slender body beneath him.

Draco simply grinned and allowed a content sigh to slide from his throat and into the hungry mouth clinging to his own, before continuing on with the desperate kissing and the spasmodic clenching of his hands on Harry's hips.

He pulled away from Harry's reddening mouth after almost thirty seconds of breathless snogging, just long enough to tug the wool gloves off his hands and throw them blindly away; he took the oppurtunity that their absence created to tangle his long fingers in unruly raven locks - a habit that came to a certain blond pureblood when lost in his own desire.

Harry instantly obliged to the demanding fingers, tilting his head obediently to the side and groaning into the chilly afternoon air when Draco craned his neck, removed his hands from Harry's dark hair, pushed himself up onto his elbows, and redirected his sinful mouth to the visible patch of skin gleaming just below Harry's ear, above the hem of his yellow scarf. The blond knew, from past experience, that it was one of few weak spots belonging to the Boy Who Lived.

He suckled the sensitive flesh between his teeth with little thought running through his head besides how much he adored the vanilla-and-salt flavor of the exposed skin. Above him, Harry was moaning his appreciation, his fingers curled desperately into the hard earth beneath Draco's raised shoulders. His arms were trembling with the effort of holding himself up above the blond man; numbness was creeping into his gloved fingers and through his damp palms.

This continued for almost two minutes; Draco teasing tender skin with lips and teeth and tongue, Harry mewling loudly and clawing at the frozen ground in his frenzied desire. Then Draco pulled rather reluctantly away from the abused flesh and lay back on the ground, breathing hard through his nose and grinning up at his panting, dazed-looking boyfriend.

"I take it you enjoyed that?"

Harry could manage nothing but a shaky nod through his haze of disoriented desire.

There was a moment of content silence, in which Harry finally allowed his trembling arms to give away with a relieved groan; he fell on top of Draco with a squeak of pain from the latter, then grinned and nuzzled his reddened nose into the junction where the taller blond's throat rolled smoothly into broad shoulder beneath the layers of thick clothing. Draco smiled and buried his own pointed nose in Harry's apple-scented raven locks with a sigh of sweet, sweet triumph.

Draco could feel a wild heart beating in perfect and spasmodic synchronization with his own while he lay there. His hands came instictively up from their comfortable position beside Harry's own on the ground to slide up the shorter wizard's clothed back. His long fingers dipped into the tempting curve just above the waistband of his jeans, rolled over the rounded knobs of a clearly visible spine, before coming to rest just below the middle of his lover's slender, curved back. His fingertips traced gentle circles along the clothed skin there, and Harry closed his eyes and smiled at the unexpectedly sweet gesture, nudging his nose further into the warm flesh of Draco's shoulder with a sigh.

Draco allowed himself an answering smile into Harry's messy hair as he continued to trace gentle circles along his relaxed spine.

Around them, the wind was still cutting through the protection of the gnarled old trees lining the yard. The sun was descending slowly over the roof of a distant house, just a sliver of coppery orange visible over the shingles. The sky not marred by the blanket of criss-crossed branches overhead had faded gradually to a deep purple color smattered with faint pinpricks of light. Night was falling over the small wizarding town, and the birds nesting is nearby trees were tweeting their lullaby-like melody, and cars were rumbling past outside the wooden fence, and life was continuing to roll through without much interruption. But time seemed to have frozen in the little backyard of a cozy household, where two grown men lay twined together on the ground, holding each other close and simply breathing each other in, the familiar scents of apple and vanilla, rain and cinnamon.

Harry and Draco lay like that, breathing deeply under the smattering of ever-brightening stars, for another ten minutes or so. Then Draco shifted underneath the shorter boy, his hands retracting from the clothed back, and opened his eyes from their contently closed state with a small sigh.

Harry's head came up in silent questioning of the noise, scarred forehead nudging Draco's bottom lip as he did so. He turned questioning, bespectacled green eyes on his lover, who did nothing more to answer the silent query than shift again and lift his hands up to Harry's slight hips beneath the layers of shirts. His long fingers curled there, then tugged upward, lifting Harry's weight ever-so-slightly from his body so he could wriggle around beneath him. Then he let go of the shorter wizard's slender sides and settled back against the hard earth beneath him, his eyes closing even as Harry fell back against him with a squeak of surprise and a curse in the back of his throat.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he lifted his head once more to glare at the cocky smirk residing on his boyfriend's mouth. "What, might I ask, are you doing?"

Draco's smirk widened into a full-blown cocky smile as he opened his eyes again and tilted his head down to stare right back at Harry. "Laying here," he answered vaguely, his voice infuriatingly serious.

Harry scowled. "You know what I mean!"

Draco only grinned and lifted his hand to brush his fingers along the underside of Harry's jaw, his silver eyes twinkling in amusement when the shorter wizard failed to supress a shudder at the feather-light touch.

Harry reached up and swatted the pale fingertips away from his face. "I mean," he hissed quietly, eyes closing as he forced himself not to lose his temper over his lover's infuriating way of dancing around answers, "Why in the hell are you trying to get so comfortable all of a sudden?"

"Well." Draco's drawling voice was unexpectedly soft, silky, and it swept over Harry and relaxed his clenched eyelids and tight frown like he had been doused in honey. Draco smiled at the reaction, then reached up to cup Harry's gaunt face between his soft palms as he continued on the same seductive purr of a tone. "I figure, what with the epic snogging and encouraging noises you were making earlier, and the fact that I'm beginning to crave your beautiful taste in my mouth again, we might be out here for a while." The last part was a husky whisper against Harry's open mouth, and the dark-haired man's green eyes flew open, whilst a gasp slipped from his lips at the unexpected turn in conversation.

His retort, however stuttered or soft or full of desire it would have been, was lost as a familiar, silk-like mouth met his own for what was probably the sixth time that morning, but for what felt like the first as their lips melded together like honey and Draco's hands and heart began working in perfect synchronization with Harry's.