Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy et all belong to the Scottish woman we all love so dearly. Written for fun, not profit.
"I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm doing this."
"Bloody buggering hell, Malfoy! Shut up!" Harry snapped. Malfoy eyed him condescendingly.
"I understand you are upset about his whole camping in the woods thing, but really, Potter, it is unnecessary to take it out on me." Harry snarled and turned back to the tent. He was a little overwhelmed by all the poles and pegs, but remembered the general idea from the World Cup.
"Malfoy, can you handle that side of the tent?" Malfoy looked at him blankly.
"Potter, why in the name of Salazar would I know how to pitch a tent? That is what house elves, or magic is for."
"Well, unfortunately, Malfoy, we have neither."
"That's not my problem. I have faith in you Potter, I'm sure you can pitch this tent." Malfoy walked away and sat down to watch Harry struggle with the tent. Harry counted to ten slowly inside his head. A week of sharing a tent with Malfoy. He was never going to survive.
Half an hour later Harry sat back on his haunches and surveyed his handiwork. His tent was pitched and very well, if he did say so himself. The rest of their teammates had arrived at the camp site earlier, but the trainer had held Harry and Malfoy back to work on another set of drills. Consequently, the rest of the tents were already up when they arrived.
Harry was less than thrilled about spending a week camping, without magic, with his teammates. Malfoy, on the other hand, was downright apoplectic. When Barton, the head coach of the Falmouth Falcons, announced the camping trip, Malfoy had turned pale, before stomping off yelling about mistreatment of players. The idea was a team bonding experience, especially with three new chasers joining the lineup this season. They were going camping like muggles, to help work together in overcoming challenges. Barton had checked everyone over before they left to make sure they didn't smuggle in an extra wand.
As loathe as Malfoy was to go along with it, he had to, if he wanted to keep his place on the team. And even Malfoy wasn't fool enough to give up a position as seeker on the top second team in the league, hopefully first ranked after this season. Harry and Malfoy had been working together as seekers for the past five years. Harry had started out on the Wimbourne Wasps before moving on the Falcons. Malfoy was picked up by the Falcons right after Hogwarts ended. Surprisingly, the two had a decent working relationship. They rotated games, Harry playing one day and Malfoy the next. They still disliked each other, but not with the burning passion of their school days. Having Malfoy on the team forced Harry to work harder, for gods forbid Malfoy actually beat him.
Harry ducked back inside his tent and grabbed his book. He settled down with it on one of the logs around the fire. Malfoy dropped down on a log opposite him, with a deck of cards. He made a noise of disgust at the filth covering the log. Harry ignored him, he was used to it. They sat in less than companionable silence for over an hour. The rest of the team had gone hiking, and since Harry just knew he'd get lost trying to find them, he opted to stay at the camp site until they returned.
Sounds of crashing through the underbrush drifted into the campsite. The team was returning. They came into sight, Mackay, the team captain and a keeper, in the lead.
"Malfoy, Potter, glad you made it!" he boomed. Malfoy didn't even look up, but drawled,
"Wouldn't miss this for the world." This elicited a laugh from the rest of the team. Carleton, a beater, lifted his shirt and took a sniff.
"Oh gods, I reek!"
"What else is new?" asked Kennon, a chaser, with an innocent smile on her face. Carleton mock shoved her. Mackay interrupted them.
"How about we go for a swim?" Hoots and hollers greeted his suggestion. The rest of the team ran to their tents to get changed. Harry got up slowly.
"You coming Malfoy?"
"I suppose, I really don't have anything better to do," he said, in a tone of long suffering. Harry rolled his eyes and went to grab his swim trunks.
The swim was fun, Harry finally unwound for the first time in months. Out here in the woods he was free from everything and it felt great. He tried not to think about how hard Malfoy's abs looked, or how his skin glistened with lake water. He definitely had a problem. Malfoy was a git, and a prat. Unfortunately, he was a very hot git.
After the swim it was time for dinner. Harry got stuck on dinner duty, with Malfoy. Just his luck. At least he knew how to cook the muggle way. After Malfoy spent five unsuccessful minutes trying to light the cooking stove, Harry yelled at him to go away and deal with clean up.
He surveyed the food supplies. There really wasn't a whole lot of variety. There was some bread, some meat, and about four dozen cans of beans. Harry set to work. Twenty minutes later he had hot dogs sizzling over the fire, toast toasting, and the beans wafting a tantalizing odor out into the campsite. Harry estimated that it would be another five minutes before everything was done. He sat back on a log and looked around the camp site.
There were eight tents for the twelve people. Two seekers, two keepers, five chasers, and three beaters. The Falcons played a rotation, because it was near impossible for one player to play the five games in a row they had sometimes. Everyone was sharing a tent, and the seekers had gotten lumped together.
The chasers and beaters were playing a game of volleyball, and the rest of the players were watching. Malfoy and Derek Reed were sitting off to one side, heads bent together. Harry had to stifle the irrational burst of jealousy that sped through him at the sight. He grabbed onto the poker to distract himself, and then yelped. He had left the poker in the fire and it was burning. He opened the cooler and stuck his burnt hand inside. He helped himself to a beer while it was open. Malfoy had looked over at Harry's yelp and laughed at the sight of Harry immersing his hand in the cooler. Harry flushed, embarrassed.
He took the food off the fire and called everyone over. They dug in with gusto. Their quidditch team ate a disgusting amount. Harry grabbed some toast and piled the camping beans on top. He raised the sandwich to take a bite and found Malfoy looking at him strangely. Or rather, at his sandwich strangely. "What? It's good," he defended. Malfoy just shook his head before reaching for a hot dog.
Malfoy had finished cleaning up, or rather he had forced two of the new chasers to clean up for him. Kennon broke out the marsh-mellows, chocolate and graham crackers. The team had gathered around the fire and were roasting away. Harry felt very hot and stifled, and he told himself it had nothing to do with the way Malfoy licked the sticky marsh-mellows off his fingers and was merely a result of the proximity of the fire.
Night fell around them, and the ghost stories started. There were several good ones, but Carleton's took the cake. He told the story of the Baron of Kent.
"A long, long time ago, when Hogwarts was only 100 years old, The Baron of Kent had a son, Octavian. He was an only child and the Baron doted on him, giving him everything he ever wanted. Except for one thing.
"The Baron was part of an old pureblood family and lived in a huge Manor at the edge of the woods. The Baron let his son roam throughout the whole house except for one door. The baron's son burnt with curiosity, for he desperately wanted to see what was behind that door.
"One day when his father was visiting a relative, Octavian forced a house-elf to open the door for him. Inside he found a library full of books on Darke Magicke and blood sacrifices. Octavian was fascinated. He returned every chance he got. Soon he had read the entire library. He wanted more.
"Octavian started with simple blood rituals. Sacrificing animals, nothing too extreme. As his power grew, so did his boldness. Soon he was sacrificing muggles from the nearby village. One day as the Baron was walking through his manor, he noticed that the door to his forbidden library was open. He walked inside, and realized that his son had found out. The muggle complaints of disappearances took on a whole new grisly light.
"At the next new moon, the Baron followed his son into the woods. It was extremely dark, and the Baron soon lost all sense of direction. HE just followed his son deeper and deeper into the woods. After almost an hour, they came to a clearing. There was an altar in the middle, to which a muggle girl was tied. The Baron's worst fears were confirmed. He knew he should rush out and confront his son, but he couldn't do it. He crouched at the edge of the clearing and watched. Octavian chanted in Latin, and the Baron couldn't follow the spell. When a gleaming silver knife came into view, he rushed into action.
"The Baron disarmed his son, and the approached. Octavian was enraged, and leapt at his father. The Baron's wand went flying off into the darkness. Finally, the Baron managed to wrest the knife from his son's grasp, and he stabbed Octavian. The stab was fatal. The Baron buried his son in the clearing and returned the muggle girl to the village. He returned to his manor to tell his wife.
"The next night, the ghost of Octavian returned. He came back to haunt his parents. He tormented them, never giving them a moments peace. He haunted their fancy parties and filled their bedroom with disturbing noises so they couldn't sleep. After four months, The Baroness brewed a poison and drank it. Two days later the Baron threw himself off a cliff.
"The boy returned to his woods. He is said to still wander through them today, looking for victims in his rituals. When there is a new moon, he returns to the clearing to finish his sacrifice."
There was complete silence after he finished except for the crackling of the f ire. The group had unconsciously drawn closer together.
"Are-aren't we in Kent?" Whiting, a new chaser, asked timidly. A branch cracked somewhere in the woods and Harry jumped. He wasn't the only one.
"Well, night all, I'm tuckered out," Mackay smiled and winked before returning to his tent.
Harry extinguished the fire as everyone else slowly went to bed. He had goose-bumps from some combination of the sudden chill and the tale. Harry returned to his tent and tried to think happy thoughts. Malfoy was already asleep when he got there.
Harry was woken by the sounds of someone crunching leaves outside his tent. His first thought was Octavian, come to use him as a sacrifice. He reached reflexively for his wand, then remembered it was back in London with his coach. He looked over at Malfoy, and noticed that he was awake. Just then a loud crash came from outside the tent. Malfoy huddled closer to Harry. Safety in numbers.
Harry was tense for five minutes of silence before he started relaxing. He realized just how close he was to Malfoy. He could feel Malfoy's warm breath on his neck.
"Scared Potter?"
"Please, you're the one who huddled near me."
"Malfoy's do not huddle!" Harry turned around to face Malfoy. Bad idea. His nose was practically touching Malfoy's and their lips were millimeters apart. Malfoy licked his lower lip, and Harry's eyes followed the motion. Malfoy leaned forward and closed the gap between them. Harry reached his arms out of his sleeping bag and around Malfoy. It was very awkward. Malfoy wriggled out of his sleeping bag and crawled in with Harry.
It was amazing. Harry's subconscious had known he was attracted to Malfoy for a while now, even if his conscious mind had vehemently denied it. Malfoy's lips were hard, and when harry nipped his lower lip, Malfoy opened his mouth compliantly. Harry mapped out Malfoy's mouth before moving onto his neck. Malfoy gasped at the sensation of Harry's tongue on his sensitive skin.
Harry was rock hard, his erection straining at his boxers uncomfortably. He rubbed against Malfoy and moaned at the friction. Malfoy moved his hand down and fingered Harry's erection through the cloth. Harry let out another moan. Malfoy rubbed their erections together, muttering incoherently. He kept up a steady rhythm, and Malfoy let out a long "yessss" as he came, never stopping his hand. Harry had opened his eyes and the sight of Malfoy coming pushed him over the edge. They fell asleep still wrapped together.
Harry woke up feeling sticky and inexplicably happy. He was wrapped around something, or rather someone. Memories of last night came rushing back. He smiled into Malfoy's neck.
"Morning, Potter," came a familiar drawling voice. Harry looked up into grey eyes. "I'm beginning to think this camping trip may not be such a disaster after all," finished Malfoy dryly. Harry smiled and pulled Malfoy into a kiss.