A/N: Hi! Well this feels weird. It's the first time I publish about HP in english. The first 4 chapters of this story had been written a few years ago in spanish, and I decided to translate them and finish what I meant to write! Seven different one shots w/o relation between them, all of them drarry and all of them Smut. I hope this is not too creepy/weird/idk and you can enjoy it. I'm sorry about the grammar errors.

Original write date: September of 2010.

Warning: Dirty gay smut. And swears and crude jokes because I can.

Disclaimer: the characters belong to JK Rowling, I just use them to satisfy my perverted fantasies.

Gay

1. The toilet paper roll

For Harry Potter helter-skelter climbing up the stairs didn't give him the speed he believed needed to be on time. "Shit", he could only curse, clutching on the handrail with terribly sweaty hands, and eager to lay on the ground in fetal position and just roll from side to side. Fucking endless staircase from hell. He delivered a slap to the door and walked quickly into the bathroom. He pulled down his pants in a desperate tug, and practically pounced on the toilet seat. He was about to throw an odd swear word, again, but his face was merely drawing a smirk.

Embargoed for the pleasant sensation caused by going to the bathroom after thirty fucking minutes holding it back, he stretched his right hand to the side, trying to reach out for the toilet paper, but all he felt was a roll of cardboard where the paper should be. He wanted to imagine that this was a lie, that someone had put unicorn hair in his breakfast and he was terribly high, but when rolled his eyes to actually find the cardboard roll without even a hint of toilet paper, he confirmed his fears. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, trying to hold back his rage.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

It was truly unbelievable that he had done it again! How many times had they argued for it? Wasn't he tired of playing his stupid little game? He should fill his pillow with hippogriff testicles, change his shaving cream for whipped cream or something like that, so he could stop screwing around.

But the situation wasn't going to end there, no. He could be sure of that.

His walk was too normal to have someone noticing, no, not even him. He crossed the kitchen and walked to the refrigerator, took out a can of juice, opened it with two fingers and brought it to his mouth. He threw his head back slightly, his swallowing was too normal to be noted by him. The blond boy was two feet away, reading the newspaper, standing there, leaning his hands on the kitchen table, barely flinching at the sound of him passing by and taking the juice from the fridge (And even with Harry being one of those people who make irritating noises when food or drink just touches his lips). He just looked away to where the swarthy was for like two seconds, two seconds very very short, and then continued concentrating on his reading.

The green-eyed redeposited the can of juice in the refrigerator, and closed the gate. Nothing, he didn't even seem to notice his presence. The bastard was pretending he hadn't done anything, that he was as innocent as a child of five years old. That made him mad. That made him so mad that he wanted to punch him on the face until he saw him bleed. Or maybe fuck him against the kitchen table until he begged mercy.

"I just got out of the bathroom." Harry announced, and for the first time Draco looked at him without disguise. His eyebrows were arched and he had that hateful look of I care as much as the mole on Dumbledore's ass.

"All right, when you leave the closet too let me know, okay?"

Asshole.

He looked up, flipping the newspaper, and then continued to read on as if nothing happened. Harry walked around the kitchen table to reach the opposite side of where the blonde was, and adopted the same position as him, resting his hands on the table and then resting his weight on his arms.

"I thought we had a deal."

Again those arched eyebrows. Again the hateful look of the mole on Dumbledore's ass. And his desire to punch him in the face (or to fuck him against the table) increased.

"A deal, you say?"

Yes, a deal, you huge bastard, as if you don't know what I'm talking about.

He saw his eyes rolling back into the newspaper, but not before dipping his index finger with his tongue and change the newspaper page. At that moment he wanted to scratch his eyes out with a fork so he wouldn't do that again, that thing of belittle him with his eyes like if he was a disgusting insect stuck to the slipper of his shoe.

"The one who ended it had to change it. That was the deal."

"It wasn't me who ended it", he said, this time without even deigning to look up from the letters printed on that one piece of paper that surely was less interesting than watching a mandrake maturing.

'There isn't a magic fairy that comes to finish the toilet paper and then doesn't change it, Draco.'

A sounded smug giggle escaped from the blonde's teeth while he wet his index finger again to turn the page of the newspaper. What a piece of jerk! It wouldn't go amiss for him to push him against the wall and stick his tongue down his esophagus to make him stop from throwing those giggles and stop irritating the hell out of him wetting his finger with his tongue.

"You're an immature arrogant" the green-eyed sentenced, feeling the anger climbing up on his legs.

"Oh, that did hurt me."

Harry turned back to surround the kitchen table and leaned his back against the cold material of the refrigerator door, he crossed his arms over his chest. It wasn't enough for him to leave him out of toilet paper; he had to humiliate him, ignore him, belittle him, and of course, decorating all of that with how many ironic comments.

"Is it really that hard to change the roll of toilet paper?"

He couldn't see Draco's face because he was turned back; but didn't need to know that other idiot smile had appeared on his pale features. He clenched his fists and when he heard Draco's answer. He could feel the rage wasn't a weak burst in his legs anymore, but a little pixie perched on his shoulders covering his eyes and shouting rude insults in his ears.

"Does it really bothers you that much to have your ass dirty, Potter?"

Two strides were enough to get where the young man was, who at that time meant that much threat posed to him. It approached him so suddenly from behind that left half of his torso hit the right half of the back of Draco. He felt him shudder, he felt it despite he was trying to hide it pretty well. He felt that his legs buckled slightly, and for a few brief moments his gaze was away from the newspaper; but he resumed the role of indifference that corresponded to him in two seconds.

"Not thinking about changing the toilet paper roll yet, you big oaf?"

His smirk. His eyes dancing across the news. His forefinger against his tongue. The sound of the paper sheet rolling over.

"Entertaining your repertoire of insults today, really. And no, I will not change the toilet paper roll, cracked face."

Other huge desire to put his hand into his mouth, snatch his liver and throw it against the wall. Desire to take him by the hips and penetrate him in a single thrust, to make it scream with his thrusts, to hear his name moaned out of his mouth. Because, even though he wouldn't admit it even if he was forced to take a huge Veritaserum cauldron, very deep he liked it when he looked at him like a disgusting squashed bug, to ignore him (or at least tried to) when he lectured about the toilet paper roll, or issued that superiority smirk that he didn't have, or wet his forefinger against his tongue over and over again.

Five slow and stormy seconds passed in silence, Draco reading the paper (Or at least faking it) and Harry imagining the thousand and one ways to possess him euphorically on the kitchen table. He was again carrying his index finger to his tongue, when a hand emitting a scorching heat took his elbow and prevented him from moving.

"Don't you even think of doing that again."

Draco couldn't have known very well when (and much, much less how), but the last conscious memory he had was having turned his face to the hand holding him, with a strength he didn't know that the green-eyed had, in his elbow. Aware because that was the time in which his lips collided brutally against his, and he lost any sane thought that might existed in his brain. And he forgot that plan of devious indifference, to roll his eyes and read the newspaper, even of issuing the self-sufficiency smile.

Harry's tongue explored the entire mouth of the young blonde, who wouldn't wanted to look so damn desperate to answer; but the taut torso rubbing against his back wouldn't let him concentrate for a fucking second on how Draco Malfoy had to act. When they stopped kissing he tried to turn to the left, to be face to face, he tried it but a warm hand was closed on his arm, and when he feint he was going to release him; Harry just succeeded to, with a movement, force him to show him where his hair became skin: his neck.

Dravo felt Harry's fingers relaxed a bit and let free his arm, and both of his arms fell with a crash against the kitchen table, not that he wanted that to be accompanied by a groan either, but he was so stunned and so fucking horny that couldn't control his actions, much less when felt a noticeable lump growing against his right buttock. It was all so strange that he didn't even remember the time when the two had taken off their shirts, but the truth is that they now had their torso naked and wasn't sure if he disliked it.

The green-eyed wished to get away from him, because, after all, he was still angry, but his cock was throbbing so hard that he was quite sure that if he was going away, it'd disintegrate and become hundreds of pieces of porcelain; so he could only rub himself with anger against Draco's right butt cheek. His right hand came alive and slid from his waist to the place where the belly of the blonde loses its name, and fuck it was so hot and throbbing he just couldn't help but tighten it with a desire that didn't know when it began to control his movements.

While his right hand continued massaging him, his left hand went to the blonde's pants button, Draco continued trying (with little success, to be honest) to not move too much, to not rub obsessively against that hand. After getting unbuttoned Draco's pants, he pulled them down sharply, and his hands (Which at that moment turned awkward, as if trying to thread a needle) detached his own jeans that fell to the ground along with his boxers.

He didn't know the time when he decided it, but frankly he thought he didn't decided it at all, but have acted on instinct; the thing is, he leaned forward suddenly and drew his hands on Draco's hips, like a rush through Draco underwear. He saw him arch against him and never thought that the curve of his back would look so miserably good, he heard him moaning (This time moaning in every sense of the word) and although he couldn't see it he knew he had his eyes tightly closed.

"Do you want me to fuck you now, right?" Asked the green-eyed, slowly lowering Draco's underpants, like a hidden caress to his legs.

"If all you're going to do is say it, I'd rather have sex with an apple, thanks," wasn't in his plans to have his voice so hoarse, nor shudder when feeling Harry's bare member brushing his thighs, much less pant in that way when those hands closed on his hips and a belly too hot and too sweaty to be normal started caressing his butt cheeks.

Harry began to slowly tilt his waist from left to right, while continually rubbed his dick against the hole of the ex - Slytherin who was facing back to him. He could feel perfectly as his body responded to his touch, highlighting the muscles on his back, and it was so delicious he didn't know how much longer he could endure. And the blonde continued leaning against the kitchen table, his hands on the paper, which slowly began to wrinkle under the tight spasms that roamed him, and caused his hands closed against the paper.

Harry's tongue rested on the top of his back, and ran a slow journey up to his neck, licking the mole on his neck where his skin mingled with his golden hair. The fingers of his right hand went back to life and almost without knowing how, they embraced Draco's member, who swore softly and moved forwards and backwards, seeking more friction between the skin of Harry's palm and his own cock. His movements were so fucking delicious that before Harry could react, he was inside, he was and moving at an alarming speed, and his erection grew and throbbed in ways he had never thought possible, and it felt so good he was panting like a bitch.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Waves of pleasure were exploding against him, and his mind couldn't reconcile any rope idea, it simply didn't fit other thoughts than Draco's narrow closing against him, and his right hand against his cock, and Draco's voice saying "Fuck yes "alternating with desperate cries, and Draco's neck moving as fast as his thrusts, and Draco. And Draco. And Draco.

Too short to be proud, but too exquisite as to be ashamed, he came inside, he came into one last bestial thrust, he came screaming "Draco" in the blonde's ear, he came and knew that he did too when felt his hand wet and noted the seizures that invaded his body, they came screaming at the same time and wildly, they came and the word "coming" was too according to the situation as to not use it.

Harry observed the terribly crumpled newspaper on the table, (Draco's closed hands were still on paper) as his breathing returned to restore a normal rhythm, but chose to better count the beads of sweat running down Draco's nape.

"So ..." His voice still sounded agitated, but not enough to forbid him to talk "Do you think about changing the toilet paper roll now?"

With a sudden movement, too sudden; the young man left him forward; causing his hand still closed (but more relaxed) over his dick come loose, and its own member left his inside. Draco looked at him, but that look wasn't the look of self-sufficiency that characterized him, nor had raised his eyebrows; but it was the look of someone who accepts that he lost a battle, lost in a humiliating and in the worst way, a look that Harry liked much more than the others, because so rarely saw it that was almost a reward for his hard work.

"Fuck." he heard him say, and he pulled up his underwear and pants. Then he went up the stairs, and said, before disappearing up the steps "I hate you, stubborn asshole."

And Harry couldn't help but smiling. He can't help it because that argument had been fought a thousand times before, in the same way, and always ended the same. And always remained the same, like a circle, without beginning or end. So his face etched that winning smile, to enjoy the sweet taste of victory. Because maybe, this arrogance, this disdain, this indifference, was what he liked the most about Draco.

N/A: *I'm sorry about the OoC.

**Drapple wasn't a thing yet when this was written. Can someone tell me what foreshadowing is?

*** If you've gotten to this point, congratulations you are now perverted. Reviews are hugely appreciated! xo