This, my dear readers, is SLASH (homosexual pairings). If you cannot handle it, please press the 'back' button, for it is your friend. I'm not going to try to press any beliefs onto you, and I am WARNING you now to not read this if it does not appeal to you in any way. Also, please do not flame me for my choice of pairing in this fic, because I WARNED you that it is SLASH. Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy slash.
Okay, now that that's over, this is just a bunch of plotless fluff. The damned bunnies attacked on their way to Rite Aid, so I was forced to post it. Alot OOC-ness, people. Oh, and the bunnies may attack you as well and force you to write and post something as well. You should listen to them (considering they have whips and chains.) Whatever happened to innocent, fuzzy bunnies?
Epros: Draco got to them…
Damn! I should've just given him peeps and a microwave for an early Easter present! He could've just blown them up instead of participating in bunny corruption.
Cranberries?
By CloudKatIt was something of an… idea. A vague one, mind you, but one nonetheless. A small one, in the back of Harry Potter's mind, but one. What was this thought? A good question…
It all happened just one day, in the Great Hall, over the holidays. Christmas had come and gone, the New Year approaching, and, strangely, both Hermione and Ron had left to spend time with their parents and families. So, Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, had to stay alone with a couple of the other holiday stragglers. They were mostly in lower years, and Harry couldn't see any of his own sixth years, so he just assumed he was the only in his House.
Great.
It was the sometime past Christmas and before New Year's Day, as stated before, that Harry Potter, his hair still a tousled mess—though many would exclaim it a cutely adorable tousled mess—stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast. His eyes were narrowed and irritated-looking, as if blaming the entire world for having mornings, their usually emerald color darkening to a deep forest green. In his hands he held parts of his holiday homework. He slouched his way over to the Gryffindor table with an atmosphere of sleepy 'get-the-Hell-away-from-me-and-you-will–be-able-to-reproduce-successfully-in-the-near-future'. The lower years swiftly backed off and sat as far away from him as possible.
He smirked, slow and unwavering, as he took a seat on the end. Somehow, satisfaction had seeped into his hazy mind due to the fact that all Hogwarts students now knew that Harry Potter was not one to be reckoned with early in the morning. Many believed this to be a Slytherin trait. Harry believed they should promptly spontaneously combust. Who really cared, this early, anyway? The slight tinge of teenage-charged loathing would fade eventually, most likely later in the day. The smirk still in place, Harry piled his plate with eggs and toast, actually feeling hungry for once. As he began eating slowly, he surveyed the Hall, feeling the familiarity begin to numb his blatant hate of the hours before noon.
Many Ravenclaws were still in their usual places. They, of course, being Ravenclaws, didn't bother leaving Hogwarts—and it's library. Fortunately for Harry, Cho Chang had gone home. The fiasco of last year was best left forgotten. Only a little bit of Hufflepuffs remained, the few swallowed up by the expanse of their own table. Among them was Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, who were gossiping quietly toward the left side, glancing at Harry every so often, then turning away and giggling as soon as he met their gazes. He resisted the sudden strong urge to roll his eyes at them.
"What are they giggling about?" He said to himself rather absentmindedly. "It's bloody stupid of them, in my opinion…" He took a large gulp of cranberry juice.
"I agree, Potter. But Hufflepuffs will be Hufflepuffs, I suppose," drawled a sickly familiar voice. The oddest thing was, it was quite near Harry's ear. He gave a startled jump, choking on his juice and standing up abruptly. This caused his head to crash into the chin of someone else, who gave an undignified yelp of surprise. Harry pivoted on his heels to face the person and was shocked to see none other than…
Draco Malfoy.
Odd. Yes, very…
Draco rubbed his jaw with slim, aristocratically elegant fingers, an upset look gracing his features. "Geez, Potter, pay a visit and get head butted… Your friends must get bitten or something on a daily basis…"
Harry arched an eyebrow. "A visit, Malfoy? The only visit you would even attempt to pay me would be when I die. You'd be sooo happy, though, wouldn't you? Dancing on my ashes and tainting my grave and all…" He made a little motion with his fingers of two little legs doing a jig on his other palm.
The Malfoy heir gave a—playful? —impish smirk. He drawled lazily, "Well, that's an idea. Thanks."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but it snapped shut in an instant. Were they having civilized conversation? Did Malfoy just thank him? Oh, Merlin, were they flirting?
Malfoy's nonchalant smirk twitched as Harry began to gape at him incredulously. He gave the other dark haired boy a look. "What?"
Anger boiled into Harry's veins. "What are you getting at Malfoy?" He hissed heatedly (A.N: Alliteration, much?). "You certainly aren't here to chat. Did you slip poison into my food or something?"
"Poison?" scoffed Draco with an air of obvious disdain. "That would be so… Muggle! Why ever would a respected pureblood such as I stoop to such a primitive level? Really, Potter, I thought you knew me better." He waved a hand as if dismissing the thought.
Harry's brows furrowed, scrutinizing. What was the ferret up to? Still, curiosity killed the… whatever he was, and Harry found himself wondering why the Slytherin Prince was being so humanly nice. Really, Harry had never actually considered Draco Malfoy as a human. A conniving, snake-ish git, yes, but never really a sixteen-year-old boy such as Harry himself. How strange this thought was actually surfacing now…
Harry sat down heavily on the bench, eyes glazed over in thought. Draco invited himself to a seat on the actual table beside the pondering Boy-Who-Lived, pushing breakfast dishes out of his way. None of the teachers seemed to notice, let alone Harry himself. The blonde nabbed a piece of toast off of the other boy's plate, nibbling away at it in dainty fashion.
The blank look had settled itself quite comfortably onto Harry's features, but was driven away as soon as he realized a certain blonde was taking his goblet and taking sips from it. "Hey!" Protested Harry weakly. "That's my cranberry juice!" He made an attempt to snatch it back, but Draco dodged away, scooting down the table a little in the process.
Draco grinned, a very rare occurrence that Harry had never in his lifetime imagined to see, and took another long swig, sighing as the liquid was swallowed. Harry absently noted that as it went down, the curve of his archenemy's throat bobbed in such a way that made him feel a tad bit uncomfortable. "Give me back my drink, Malfoy!" Insisted the emerald-eyed boy with a scowl (that only seemed to be a teasing one, even Harry himself). The Malfoy just gave a jaunty waggle of his eyebrows.
"It's all done, though. And there appears to be none left on the table…" He said with a satisfied smirk.
Harry stared at the remnants of the food at the Gryffindor table. Surely enough, the cranberry juice pitcher was suspiciously missing. He glared at the Draco, who let his eyelids droop slightly, giving him a look of haughtiness. It was that look that led to Harry's breath catching in his throat.
"Are you sure?" muttered Harry with a note of something in his voice that made Draco draw back a bit.
"Yes, Potter, that's why I said it. Honestly, you would think that you could at least be capable of hearing the words that come directly from my mouth," retorted the blonde Slytherin. He nudged the Gryffindor Golden Boy in the side with his knee. "There is no more cranberry juice," he stated with finality.
"No more…" replied Harry distantly. He locked eyes with the Malfoy heir, almost positively neutral. "How do you suppose I could get another taste? You know, now that there's no more of it… and I really do love cranberry juice."
Draco stared down at Harry from his perch atop the table. He nudged the dark haired boy once more with his leg. On impulse, or falling into the spur of the moment, Draco leaned down, his face inches away from Harry's. He licked his lips. "Taste away," he muttered to the other boy. His silver eyes fluttered closed as Harry's lips made contact with his own. Their lips moved together in an almost shy way, but felt blissfully right together, rapturously so.
The kiss was gentle at first, and then became decidedly more heated. Harry' hands moved to Draco's hips, and Draco's to Harry's shoulders. Harry's tongue glided over the other's bottom lip, almost begging for entrance. Tentatively, Draco parted his lips, and he felt a slick tongue tangle with his and probe his mouth in an unfamiliarly possessive way. He fought back, and both boys found themselves in a battle of dominance that neither had ever dreamed of having with each other of all people, but couldn't really care less at the moment. Harry nipped at Draco's lip, causing the blonde to whimper in a rather un-Malfoy–like way. He smirked against Draco, who gave a small growl.
They didn't exactly notice the lingering silence in the Great Hall as they were—ahem—busy at the time, but did as one of the Slytherins whooped and whistled loudly. "Oh, yeah! That's what I'm talking about! YEAH!" There were suddenly laughs and scattered applause.
"About time!" Shouted a Ravenclaw.
"Yea!" Catcalls and more laughing.
Harry broke the kiss, panting, and stared up at the other occupants. He flushed immediately when he realized the compromising position he and his "archrival" were in. He was standing between Draco's legs, leaning on his hand, half-over the Slytherin on the table and pinning him to it. Draco was almost flat on the table itself, prostrate, his shoulder length blonde locks spread over the stony grey surface in the most enticing way…
CraacK!
Harry gave a start, and Draco sat up suddenly, his head almost under Harry's chin.
On the floor, in a mixed array of wine-red liquid and broken glass, lay the remains of the Gryffindor table's cranberry juice pitcher.
"That's…!" Exclaimed Harry, shooting the blonde an accusing look.
Draco just stared up at him with a feigned innocent expression. A slow smirk was crawling its way across his face.
"Lying bastard…" mumbled Harry as he captured Draco's lips in another kiss. He pushed him forcibly down onto the table again and they continued their session as if nobody was really there. Draco's hands reached up and twined in the emerald-eyed boy's hair and Harry's hands were suddenly undoing the buttons of his multi-galleon robes…
Many people continued to watch the scene with amusement, mortification, longing, devastation, and the list continues…
Though, by far the best reaction was when Severus Snape walked into the Hall with his usual dramatics, robes flaring around him. He took one look at the Gryffindor table to sneer at the bane of his very existence, only to find said 'bane-of-existence' snogging the living Hells out of his favorite student.
It was on this day, a random one between Christmas and New Year's of the sixth year of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, that their favorite (this actually may be true in Draco's case) Potion's Master fainted dead away… twitching and convulsing all the while.
Now, back to that idea mentioned at the very beginning of this rather twisted tale… Well, you'll just have to figure out that one for yourself. I think you'll all have a pretty good guess, no?
Finite Incantatem!
A.N: Well, well, well… This is my first Harry Potter fic posted on this site, and it was more or less for my own amusement.
Review if you liked it; review if you hated it, whatever. It is a ficlet after all. No continuations! Ha… like anybody would want me to continue anything…
Epros: S'okay, Clou… You'll survive.
Thanks a lot, 'Pros… feh.
Review!
… Crap! Draco! Get away from those bunnies!