Author: Etherea.
Rating: PG-13 (A few references to Sexual Themes and suggested Slash… Nothing unbearable).
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah: Don't own, don't sue.
Author Note: Oh, YAY! My first One-Shot! Although, I must warn you all first: this was written under a slight alcohol-induced buzz… Please, don't flame too bad if it is actually completely stupid, thank you very much! If for some strange reason you do like it, don't hesitate and hit that review button! It's painless and free, I guarantee it, and it'd also make me very, very happy! ºGrinsº
Another Author Note: Thanks so much to Enchant for Beta-ing this in such short notice. You're a godsend, honey!
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Things That Matter
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"Draco, have you seen my orange sweatshirt; the one with the green and purple stripes on the front?" Harry asked irritably as he rummaged through his side of the closet, dressed only in his washed-out grey jeans and socks.
He had been looking for that particular article of clothing for the last half hour, leaving no small mess in his wake, and producing effects from where there really weren't supposed to be any to begin with: under the bed, behind the vanity, and underneath the chase lounge's cushion -just to name a few-, which consequently resulted in the once impeccable bedroom turning into what looked to be an infant troll's playground. Apparently, his idea of a 'thorough closet search' consisted of throwing every single t-shirt, shoe, pair of pants, belt, hat and any other garment he could get his hands on out over his head, so now the entire bedroom floor -and several other surfaces- were littered with the totality of the raven-haired wizard's wardrobe.
His lover, who was still busying himself in the bathroom, poked his head out through the door; his silvery-blond locks dripping small droplets that cascaded down his lean shoulders and chest; a sight that distracted Harry from his sweatshirt hunt for a couple of seconds.
"I'm not sure which one you're talking about, love," Draco said in an uncertain tone, giving Harry an innocent smile before disappearing once again beyond the doorframe.
"Oh, come on!" said Harry loudly –the sounds of a hairdryer were now issuing from the bathroom; a Muggle machine the blond actually never used- as he resumed his rushing from one corner of their bedroom to the other, opening drawers or crouching to look under nightstand tables and vanities for a second, third, and, in some cases, a fourth time. "The one Ron gave me last Christmas! The one you said seemed to be 'specially designed for the color-blind'..." he trailed off all of the sudden, stopping in his tracks before he turned on his heels and strode towards the bathroom with a scowl adorning his handsome face, where Draco had finished blow-drying his hair and was now taking his time with the styling mousse; a white towel wrapped around his slim waist, his cheeks flushed from the lingering steam.
"What did you do to it?" Harry asked, upset, as he glared fiery daggers at his boyfriend from the bathroom's doorway. Draco –to Harry's complete irritation- appeared quite nonchalant; his fine features set in a blithe frown as he gave the last touches to his shoulder-length mane.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry. What could I have possibly done to it?" he said lightly, looking intently at the mirror as he applied sun-blocking moisturizer on some specific areas of his face. After a few light strokes over his countenance, he then splashed some aftershave on his cheeks and neck, purposely ignoring his boyfriend, who seemed to have been struck dumb as he stared at him with wide eyes and his mouth open in disbelief.
"You threw it away, didn't you!" Harry yelled all of a sudden, "Just like you did with my Magpies cap, my blue tennis shoes, and my 'Wood's got the Broom' shirt!'"
This time, Draco did turn to look at Harry; his mercury eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I didn't throw that particular shirt away, Harry, love; I burned it," he said sharply, not caring that he was, in fact, admitting to his boyfriend's accusations. "And if I ever, and I repeat, ever, find anything related to that obnoxious ex of yours in this house again, be completely certain that it will have the same, if not an even worse fate than that hideously tacky shirt had!" he said disdainfully as he rushed out of the bathroom and into their bedroom; his boyfriend hot on his tracks.
"You can't keep doing this! You can't keep throwing away my things, much less burning them! They're MINE!" Harry shouted, outraged at his boyfriend's disregard for their –though still unaddressed- boundaries. Draco had found his wand in their disaster of a bedroom and was now angrily flicking it and swishing it in all directions; the room's current status appearing to be a remarkably offensive sight to his delicate sensitivity. After a couple of seconds of magical work, things had returned to some semblance of order once again… which could not be said about the two lovers' tempers.
"Actually, Harry dear, I am doing you a favor," he drawled snappishly as he put on a pair of black silk boxers before he started taking out some outfits from his side of the closet, which -unlike Harry's, which was usually a pile of rumpled clothes and other incongruent things when said pile's contents were not laying scattered around- was perfectly tidy and color-organized. "I certainly can't imagine how you've survived in today's narcissistic society all this time; what with you always wearing the kind of distasteful rubbish you own," he added matter-of-factly as he placed a grey turtleneck next to a pair of dark brown corduroys on the bed, examining the combination with an analytical pose. He waved his hand dismissively and the trousers went to hang themselves neatly in the closet, whilst his boyfriend kept staring at him with astonished eyes, gaping like a stranded fish.
"Well," said Harry when he'd finally recovered, "I may wear rubbish, as you call it, but at least I'm not an insufferable, snotty brat who spends two hours in front of the mirror like a bloody woman!" he snapped as he started picking up some discarded shirts haphazardly, trying to smooth some of the worst wrinkles with his hand. To his chagrin, Draco merely stopped in his methodical selecting of goods, and stared at him with a condescending smile plastered on his face.
"Love, I take my time to look my best because I actually care about my appearance, which, I'm sorry to say, seems to be a mysterious matter for some people," he said as he eyed his boyfriend pointedly, who had decided on a sleeveless maroon shirt to go with his –rather morally insulting, in Draco's opinion- washed-out grey jeans.
Harry looked even more incensed at this, if that was possible.
"Yeah? Well, at least I don't bathe myself in cologne just so everybody in a fifty-feet radius knows that I'm in the vicinity!" he spat, putting on his boots with such roughness the poor things were actually reluctant to let themselves be worn. Draco turned sharply from his spot in front of the wall-length mirror and glared icy darts at his boyfriend.
"I do not bathe myself in cologne!" he snapped in an offended tone. Harry smirked maliciously in his direction as he stood up from the bed, tugging at his red shirt and deciding he preferred the long-sleeved, green one he had rejected before.
"Yeah, you do! And you also have this utterly annoying habit of eating from my plate without asking for my permission," Harry snapped with a triumphant smirk as he started getting out of his shirt to put on the other one. "In front of people!" he added when he decided the look of complete indignation on his boyfriend's pale face was simply not satisfying enough.
"Yes? Well, at least I don't leave my hairs to clog up the bathroom's drain. That's simply disgusting!" the blond wizard retorted heatedly as he put on the rather delicate cream linen pants with such force they actually squealed in pain. Harry -who was currently trying to get his rebellious night-colored hair to behave in front of the mirror Draco had just left free by some miracle of the Providence- pointed the brush menacingly at his fuming boyfriend before placing it on the vanity again, giving up.
"Right! And I suppose those... vomit-like, night face-care products of yours leaving traces all over the sheets and pillows are not absolutely gross, let alone having sex with a sea monster!" Harry said in a loud, patronizing voice as he rolled up the sleeves of his green shirt in that casual way Draco had once told him looked rather sexy on him.
"Well, I'm not the one who gets horny in the middle of the night, interrupting other people's dream cycles because they're so wanton they can't wait until morning!" the blond snapped as he finished putting on his expensive, cream dragonhide moccasins. He then applied some cologne –just two sprays instead of the usual three- before standing up and pushing Harry out of the way of his mirror.
"I'm horny? I'M HORNY! Who was the one who gave me a blowjob in Ron's cupboard at my birthday party because they said they couldn't wait until they got home!" Harry asked angrily, glaring viciously at Draco before giving him a mighty bump with the hip, thus overthrowing his boyfriend from the spot in front of the seemingly extraordinary piece of furniture.
"Well, I didn't hear you complaining, Potter!" Draco spat viciously as he fastened his belt; utterly irritated about having to give up his rightful place to his brute of a boyfriend; he was sure there would be a bruise on his delicate skin come morning. "In fact, if I remember correctly, it was you who suggested we use the cupboard in the first place!"
"Because you wanted to do it under the table using my Invisibility Cloak!" Harry exclaimed, appalled, taking no notice of his boyfriend's usage of his surname -his cheeks turning crimson-red all of the sudden- and moving to sit at the vanity's seat so his obnoxious lover could finish getting ready once and for all.
"Well, it was you who decided to bring that blasted thing to the party. I merely thought about giving it a good use," Draco retorted caustically, eyes narrowed, as he examined himself in front of the reclaimed mirror; brushing non-existent fluff off of his turtleneck. Rather roughly.
"Well, I might be horny, but at least I don't make indecent proposals to my boyfriend's best friends!" Harry retorted as he rummaged in the vanity's drawer for his wand and other effects -this time being careful to not disorganize everything in the process- and then put on his wristwatch and a silver band on his left hand's ring finger.
"HA!" Draco laughed sardonically. "At least my friends don't keep asking me and my boyfriend to make out in front of them!" the blond snapped lowly as he put on his watch, bracelets, and rings, which Harry had just handed to him.
"They do not! Ginny was just happy for us that day! She wanted us to share our happiness with her!" Harry yelled angrily; his face set in the most offended –albeit hilarious- expression ever conceived by a human's face as he stared at Draco's over the vanity's mirror. Yes, there were more than two mirrors in that room… not counting the ones on the ceiling.
"Yes, whatever you say, Harry. Just remember to clean up any tracks of your recent passing after you've used the bathroom," the blond snapped, now arranging his caramel silk scarf around his neck.
"And you remember to stay out of other people's food, Malfoy!" he said, remembering to avenge himself with that one.
"Fine!" Draco yelled, slamming the closet's door closed, looking mutinous.
"Fine!" Harry retorted, closing the vanity's drawer with a bang.
"And those pants are absolutely horrendous; you know that, don't you? I'll burn them next chance I get!"
"And you look like a ponce; were you aware of that fact! It should be a crime to look like such a sissy!"
"Like it's not a crime to look like a homeless person with the kind of money you have in your Gringotts vault!"
"Well, pardon me, but I don't flash my money in other people's faces!"
"Yes? Well, I actually enjoy spending my immeasurable fortune, thank you very much!"
"Ferret!"
"Scar-head!"
"Obnoxious, egotistical brat!"
"Insufferable, attention-seeking goody-two-shoes!
Neither one of the two raving wizards had realized that they had stepped closer and closer to each other in their rather pathetic argument, and that they were now standing merely inches apart; faces scowling, eyes narrowed; breathing heavily with passion and empty ire. They stayed there, glaring daggers at each other, waiting for the other to concede in their never-ending war for dominance, until the clock on the wall chimed 8 PM: exactly one minute and fifty six seconds later.
"We have to go or we'll be late for Molly's dinner party," Harry said grumpily, fighting the mighty urges to kiss Draco as the blond watched him with that childish, unforgiving scowl Harry always found so ravishing, so irresistible, and being utterly aware of the fact that he was losing the battle quite pitifully.
"Look who's talking about being punctual," Draco drawled, noticing Harry's lust-glazed eyes, feeling the wave of desire spreading from his groin to the rest of his body, and hating his own treacherous being for responding so fervently to his boyfriend's wicked signals.
"We really need to get going," the raven-haired man said matter-of-factly, stepping even closer to Draco, and looking intently into those unfathomable, stunning grey eyes of his that told him more than anything the blond could ever possibly say.
"Yes, you're absolutely right," the blond said softly as his eyes moved of their own volition to Harry's luscious lips...
Who made the first move, they'd never know. In a flash, they were clinging desperately to each other, mouths searching frantically and tongues plundering shamelessly as their hands traveled all over the other's body; clothes and shoes flying, furniture tipped all over, quarrel forgotten; seeking the unique sensation of bare, heated skin on skin; the quickened pace of surrendered hearts; the divine rhythm of seamlessly joined flesh; the sweet oblivion of exquisite, beautiful, perfect completion.
It was long after their breathing and their heartbeats had finally returned to normal that either of them spoke, sprawled together as they were on their bedroom's floor.
"Molly is going to kill us," Harry said softly; his voice sounding more amused than anything.
"She won't even notice our absence with so many grandchildren running around," Draco said lazily as he snuggled up closer to Harry; his arm wrapped possessively around him as he rested his head on his lover's chest. Harry chuckled softly.
"You drive me completely mad sometimes, you know?" he said, nuzzling his boyfriend's cheek affectionately as he trailed his fingers through the blonde's silky, fine hair. Draco smirked, smiling gently in his dazed, satisfied joy.
"Yes, I know... but you have to admit," he said haughtily, moving to look up at Harry, "that you wouldn't want it any other way." He flashed a white, smug smile at his lover, who returned it with a cheeky, impossibly happier grin of his own.
"Well... It would actually make a lot of difference if you stopped..."
"Harry James Potter!" Draco said, appalled, and Harry couldn't help but smile lovingly at his boyfriend's reaction.
"Just kidding, my Dragon; just kidding," he said, holding his beloved tightly in his arms, and thinking that, even with all their petty fights, foolish troubles, and insignificant differences, it was the little things like the feel of Draco close to him, smiling contently against his neck right at that moment, what truly, truly mattered.
-oº The End ºo-