Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling, various publishing and movie people, and Draco Malfoy; not, sadly, to me.

Pillow Talk


'Um.' Harry lay on his back, and stared up at the ceiling in shock. There was nothing to see up there, but the alternative was turning to look at Draco Malfoy, which just seemed too bizarre to contemplate. Particularly whilst trying to understand other, more pressing matters- like why Draco Malfoy was in his bed, for one. 'What just happened?' He whispered, not quite sure why he was taking the time to be quiet. They hadn't been bothered about keeping the noise down a few minutes ago, at any rate.

'We had sex, Potter.' Draco's voice was at a normal level, and the sudden switch in volume made Harry wince, though he wasn't quite sure why that happened, either.

'Right.' He said confidently, so he didn't sound like such a clueless idiot. And then he ruined it for himself by adding, 'what do we do now?'

Draco's sigh was both long-suffering and sleepy. 'We go to bed, Potter. That is what one does after sex, at night, usually.'

'Right.' Harry repeated, less confidently. He wasn't well versed in the ways of sexual etiquette, but Draco's instructions sounded reasonable enough. If you were dealing with anyone other than Draco Malfoy, obviously. 'But, you know, don't we need to have some sort of awkward-almost fight about whether or not you stay the night, first?' Harry felt Draco roll over next to him, and he did the same, so they were lying face to face. Draco looked thoroughly unimpressed.

'We're trying not to argue- not that you're trying very hard, I might add- since it's the middle of the night, and I want to enjoy my after-glow. And you can get out of the bed and find somewhere else to sleep if you find the idea so objectionable, but I am warm, and comfortable, and staying here.' Harry blinked uselessly, and when his eyelashes touched Draco's face, he realized just how close they were. This was what happened when you had sex- you're glasses came off, and Slytherin's took advantage of your moment of blindness to get unnaturally close.

'But,' Harry tried. 'It's my bed.' This sounded like a reasonable argument to him, but Draco clearly disagreed.

'But,' Draco mimicked. 'I'm a Malfoy.'

'Right.' He repeated. He wondered how many times he'd find himself agreeing with Draco just because he wasn't sure what else to say. He decided that it was probably how he'd ended up here in the first place- Draco must have come to him and demanded sex, or something equally preposterous, and Harry had said yes, because he wouldn't have known what else to say.

Only sex with Draco Malfoy hadn't been preposterous at all; it had been pretty bloody good, actually. And in any case, he could distinctly remember being the one to start the kissing. And the one to start trying to tear off clothes, before Draco slapped his hands away, and told him that they were too expensive for that.

He stared at Draco a moment longer, their breaths mingling in the space between them, and he worried if his breath smelt bad. They'd been so busy having sex that he hadn't brushed his teeth before bed- he'd just sort of stumbled and fallen on it, after Draco had pushed him down and straddled him. Somehow, now didn't seem quite the right time to go and brush his teeth either, he didn't think Draco- neurotic as he was- would appreciate that. Besides, Draco would have told him if his breath was really bad. He would have complained about it several times by now. Harry decided to let it go, and closed his eyes.

'Does this mean you've decided that you are going to stay?' For some reason, it was much easier to hear the uncertainty and vulnerability in Draco's voice with his eyes closed. It was quite reassuring too, to know that perhaps Draco was as uncertain of his sexual etiquette as Harry was, and so Harry wriggled slightly closer, ignoring the fact that the stickiness on their stomachs made an odd squelching noise when they pressed together, and wrapped his arms around Draco.

'Excellent.' Draco said, his breath strangely warm in Harry's ear, and his voice still unnervingly loud, and his body just fitting nicely against Harry's. 'I wanted someone to keep my feet warm, anyway.'


Fin.