A Series of Drarry Clichés
This was written as one of a collection, based on scenes and scenarios that always turn up in Harry/Draco slash. I am open to new suggestions.
A Series of Drarry Clichés was originally created for my best friend Jennie Wilson. Usually I only have to open my mouth to make her laugh, but these were written to make her smile.
I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I just stick them in awkward, and predictable, situations.
Quidditch Shower Rooms
Quidditch practice: Harry loved to be out there, wind on his face, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Rain or shine; it didn't matter. A good thing really, considering the fact they had been practising mid-storm. Angelina had a strict approach to practices, even if the weather hadn't caught on to her scheme.
Finally, drenched and muddy, the team had dragged themselves to the ground just in time to see the Slytherins stagger their way onto the pitch.
Malfoy flashed a sneer at Harry as the teams passed; the rain dancing over their faces and the lightning catching in their eyes.
Harry waited while the remaining Weasley brothers hogged the showers and then, assuring he would meet them at dinner, stripped and stepped beneath the hot stream; the water caressing his skin like familiar hands.
Placing his own flat against the wall, he leant his head down and let the warmth slide across his shoulders.
"I didn't know you were such an exhibitionist, Potter."
Harry didn't even turn around. "What are you doing in here Malfoy?" He asked and he scooped the water over his face.
"My father would have a fit if he knew we were out there in these conditions."
"Oh yes," said Harry, turning around and tipping his head back for the water to run through his hair, "How could I forget Malfoy and his 'Daddy issues'?"
Usually Malfoy would have come back with a quick retort but he was too busy admiring the sight in front of him.
"Didn't know you were holding out on us Potter," He drawled.
"Should have known you'd like to look," muttered Harry, his eyes still closed in the steady stream of water.
There was a short pause and then a smooth hand roughly grabbed his cock. Harry's eyes snapped open to see Malfoy stripped down to his jeans, water rushing through his usually pristine hair, not two inches away.
"I said look, not touch, Malfoy." Harry said, without pushing him away.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "Doesn't feel as though you're minding, Potter." He spat the last word, disgusted that he could want this boy in front of him.
Harry suddenly wrenched Malfoy to him by the buckle on his belt and started to loop it off; his fingers stroking the delicate skin above the other boy's waistline as he did so.
"What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy asked, without looking down; without lessening his touch.
"Fair's fair, Malfoy." Harry answered sliding his wet hands down the seat of the Slytherin's jeans and shoving them unceremoniously down. Malfoy kicked them off without a glance in their direction, grabbing himself also and rubbing it up against Harry's, now in steady time with one another. Harry dug his nails into Malfoy's shoulders.
Then, without warning, Harry abruptly shoved Malfoy off him, and placing his weight on his shoulders, pushed the other boy onto his knees.
"Make yourself useful while you're down there." He snapped, flinging his head back hard onto the tiles as Malfoy swirled his tongue round Harry's tip and began to caress his ball sack with a hand. A hand with long white fingers and perfectly formed nails. Harry bit down on his lip until he drew blood.
What Malfoy couldn't cover with his mouth he engulfed with his other hand, licking and sucking; lost in the taste of his enemy, Harry's hands running non to gently through his hair.
And just when he knew Harry was about to come, Malfoy let go, rose swiftly to his feet and walked off with a yell of "See you Potter", leaving Harry frustrated and unspent.