Title: Roleplay
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, there would have been more books because there would have been so much Drarry snogging it would have taken more books to hold it all. But I don't and there isn't.
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: T. PG-13. Or just PG. I dunno. I'm a really poor judge of ratings.
Warning: Sexual innuendo and suggestive situation. Men snogging one another.
Summary: What's a friendly Seeker's game between rivals?
A/N: This is the first really short ficlet I've ever written. I'm kind of proud of it.
"Potter."
"Malfoy."
They stood face to face at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, dressed in their leathers and robes; one scarlet and one emerald. Harry attempted to stare down his rival, to no avail. Malfoy just smirked at him.
"I know I'm gorgeous, Potter, but there's no need to stare," he preened.
Harry rolled his eyes, pretending his heart wasn't thudding in his chest. The blond was beautiful, there was no denying it. He couldn't help appreciating the view.
"Let's get on with it, shall we?" He steadied his broom, then released the snitch. The boys launched themselves into the air.
They whizzed about, each searching for the telltale flash of gold.
"You're going down today, Potter!"
"In your dreams, Malfoy!"
"I bet you dream of me," Malfoy grinned wickedly and Harry choked.
"Git," he managed, and he did NOT sound fond.
He thought he spotted the snitch, and zoomed over to where he thought he'd seen it, but there was nothing. Malfoy was hot on his heels, and smirked again when he realized there was nothing there. "Running away, eh, Potter?"
"That would imply there's something worth running from, Malfoy," replied Harry coolly.
"Ah yes, the fearless Gryffindork would never run from anything, even if it was the only intelligent course of action," sneered Malfoy.
"Malfoy, implying that I'd be smart to run from you implies that there something about you that should scare me. Since being a prat isn't catching, I highly doubt that's the case," Harry said dryly.
"I know something you could catch," said Malfoy, waggling his brows suggestively.
"Yes, the snitch." Harry bit back a grin at the look on Draco's face.
"You're no fun, Potter," he sighed with the air of one who has been hard done by.
"I didn't realize that I was your plaything," Harry responded, then winced as he caught the predatory gleam in Malfoy's eyes at his unfortunate choice of wording.
"Ah, but you could be," purred Malfoy. "I already know a 'game' we could play."
"Yes, it's called find the snitch," replied Harry, determined to hold him off. Damnit, Malfoy was NOT getting him all hot and bothered hundreds of feet in the air on a broomstick, and he was NOT looking delectable with his usually perfect blond hair windswept and his checks reddening from the cool air.
Just then Harry spied the snitch and raced after it. Malfoy was close on his heels, and he led them up, up, higher and higher and across the pitch. Before he knew it the tiny, fluttering gold ball was in his hands and he lifted his fist above his head in victory. Malfoy scowled.
"you know, if you spent less time baiting me and more time looking for the snitch, you might actually have a shot, Malfoy," Harry said conversationally.
"Shut up, Potter," snarled Malfoy, looking put out.
Harry shouted with laughter as he rode back to the locker rooms.
He and Malfoy landed their brooms, then Harry turned and asked, "So, the loser has to do whatever the winner asks, right?" Now it was his turn to waggle his eyebrows suggestively. Malfoy smirked.
"That's right, Potter," he said, and closed the gap between them, crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss.
Harry gasped into the kiss; Malfoy's face was cold and his mouth was hot and his tongue was slick and oh, Godric! The sensations were exquisite.
Just as Harry's toes were curling Malfoy abruptly broke off the kiss and growled, "Shower, NOW, Potter."
Harry shook his head, feeling slightly dazed from the spectacular kiss. "Someone could walk in."
Malfoy snorted. "It's summer, Potter, there's no one here."
Harry bit his lip and nodded, realising the former Slytherin had a point. He grinned. "Why does it get you so hot and bothered to roleplay as students, anyway, Draco?"
Draco stared. "Merlin, Potter, you did not just ask me that! Do you have any idea how often I wanted to shag you into the ground back then?"
"Oh, and that's changed?" Harry teased.
"Prat," Draco said fondly. He stalked to the locker room, pausing in the doorway. "Coming?"
Harry smiled and followed his husband inside. For all his pretense, he secretly loved their Seeker's games on the Hogwarts pitch during the summer. After all, he'd dreamed of shagging the Slytherin into the ground for years as well. But that would stay his little secret.