Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling wrote it, sold it and owns it, I just worship it,
dream of it and fantasise. Damn!
If Lake's Had Ears
Harry Potter decided that he hated Ron Weasley on one fine summer morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He was standing on the edge of the Hogwarts lake, dripping wet, long black hair plastered to his skull. Naked. As. The. Day. He. Was. Born.
Ron was going to die. This was, after all, entirely his fault.
Well - to be fair - and who could possibly want to be fair in a situation like this? Harry asked himself - it was also Seamus' fault. So Ron and Seamus were both going to hell. A one-way express trip, courtesy of Harold James Potter.
Most people wouldn't believe that something as trivial as a small practical joke would make Harry seriously consider murdering two of his best friends, but then they hadn't reckoned with the presence of Draco Malfoy.
* * *
There were a few moments in a person's life that made all the misery and angst that they went through worth it. These moments were rare and few and to be stored in the vault of memory for the rest of time.
Draco Malfoy, standing at the foot of the lake with a naked Harry Potter in front of him was having one of those moments.
Draco had been aware of the fact that Harry was attractive for a while now. Everybody was.
He'd come back in sixth year - the year after he'd defeated Voldemort, Draco assumed that the lifting of that burden was what had engendered the sudden change - minus glasses, baggy clothes and sporting a new hair cut. The long ebony hair had been grown out till it could be tied back in a pony tail. Without the mess of hair and oversized glasses people could actually get a good look at Harry's face. High cheekbones, a surprisingly delicate chin, wide thickly lashed emerald eyes and golden skin, which gave credence to his nickname 'The Golden Boy'.
That and a mouth that -
Well -
Really, the only tactful way of putting it was that there had been many a fantasy about that mouth, even in Slytherin.
"Full and made for fucking!" Blaise Zabini had aptly described it once.
This revealing episode had just confirmed Draco's speculations that the rest of the Harry package lived up to his expectations. And preferences.
"Well, well, Harry Potter. What do we have here?"
* * *
Harry was fairly sure he'd die of mortification soon. The once over Draco was giving him was doing bad things to his libido and as the only thing protecting him from total exposure at the moment were a pair of long slender hands, he was in trouble.
Hermione had once called them "artist hands".
- - -
"They're so graceful, Harry. You're so lucky to have nice hands, long tapered fingers and slender palms." Harry had blushed.
"There's no need to wax poetic about them 'Mione." Ron jumped in, ever the jealous boyfriend, "What you really mean is that they're girls' hands! Which is really perfect considering Harry's gay."
"Ronald Weasley! I can't believe you just said that! You insensitive git!"
"But it's true! Honestly, Hermione is it that time of the month?"
Needless to say the conversation rapidly degenerated from there.
- - -
In fact, now that Harry thought on it Harry wasn't sure that that fight wasn't the reason Ron had set up this little rendezvous. He'd become increasingly jealous of Harry and Hermione's growing closeness. Just how Ron planned to scotch Harry's friendship with Hermione by humiliating Harry in front of - in Harry's opinion - the best looking boy in school - who coincidentally Harry had had a crush on, since, well, he couldn't remember really - Harry had yet to figure out.
Harry was pulled from the reprieve of speculation by Draco's rapid encroachment on his personal space. Harry found this disturbing for many reasons.
One: Draco was bigger than him. About four inches taller and lithe, with rippling muscles - not that Harry had noticed his muscles before this moment or anything. Harry'd once heard Draco described as a panther on the prowl. At the time he'd dismissed it, it had after all come from the mouth of one of Draco's more idiotically infatuated fans, but now that he thought about it, he could see the acuteness of the comparison.
Two: From the way the slender embodiment of feline sensuality - and amazed Harry no end that Draco could look both slender and masculine at the same time, Harry knew he didn't pull it off - Draco's intentions were obviously slightly more than platonic.
Three: He wasn't bothered by the idea at all. In fact he wasn't sure his brain was functioning at all.
So when Draco kissed him, it seemed only natural to kiss him back. To open his mouth an let him in, to twine his hands in the soft blond hair and arch up to meet his nemesis' addresses. It all seemed so natural that he forgot that he was standing wet and naked at the edge of a lake, wrapped in the arms of his greatest enemy, who was fully dressed, defying all the laws of common sense.
* * *
Draco smiled as he disentangled himself from Harry, looking into his emerald eyes it was blatantly obvious - and totally adorable - that the poster boy for goodness and all round hero was ridiculously inexperienced. Though how anybody that looked as good as Harry did could survive unmolested, especially in the same house as Seamus 'I'm-a-slut' Finnigan, was a mystery to Draco.
The gorgeous befuddlement made it stunningly easy to bundle Harry into Draco's robes. The dazed Gryffindor followed Draco as he headed back to school, into the Slytherin common room and past the jealous eyes of Draco's housemates into Draco' room and from there to his bed.
* * *
Several hours, and many orgasms later, with Harry's head resting on his shoulder, Draco quietly reviewed the day. His new lover had proved to be mind-blowingly responsive. Eyes roaming over his sleeping lover, the delectable expanse of bare golden skin, slender limbs and supple muscles, Draco decided that Harry was going to be a permanent acquisition.
He was thoroughly going to enjoy the enraged look on the Weasel's face when he was informed that - thanks to his own manipulations - Harry Potter was now Draco's lover and - heaven help him - boyfriend.
Harry stirred, eyes blinking open to stare sleepily at his lover.
"Sleep time, Draco" he said in a fuzzy voice.
Draco melted. A rare true smile graced his face, as he looked at his bleary boyfriend.
"Yes it is." Leaning down and tenderly kissing Harry, Draco agreed. Oh how the mighty have fallen he smirked inwardly. "I'll sleep."
"Good, g'night." Harry mumbled burying his face in Draco's shoulder and getting comfy. "Love you."
Draco froze. He waited until he heard Harry's breathing level out, the sleepy Gryffindor obviously had no idea what he said. It was this very realisation that assured Draco that the sleeping boy had told the truth. Harry was bad enough at lying when fully conscious and making an effort, Draco had no doubts it was impossible for him to lie convincingly when half asleep.
Draco owed Weasley and Finnigan an island each, possibly two, for delivering straight into his arms, and consequently his bed, the boy of his dreams. He was sure he didn't those islands in the Bahamas any longer.
Wait hold that. Harry, beach, naked. Scrap that plan, Weasley and Finnigan were just going to have to be satisfied with Harry's eternal happiness.
Because Draco fully intended to keep Harry Potter - and keep him happily - for the rest of his natural life.
"Love you, too." Draco whispered.
After all, everybody falls in love eventually, even a Malfoy.
* * *
Author's Note:
Pure and unashamed fluff, I know, but it just came to me and I had to write it. This is intended to be a one-shot, but I might write more, after my first story Much Ado About Pranking is finished (and posted - it was removed from fanfiction.net a recommendation for a site to post it on would be great!). Reviews will be appreciated and flames will be dismissed with a flick of a marmalade tail!
Love,
The M. C.
If Lake's Had Ears
Harry Potter decided that he hated Ron Weasley on one fine summer morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He was standing on the edge of the Hogwarts lake, dripping wet, long black hair plastered to his skull. Naked. As. The. Day. He. Was. Born.
Ron was going to die. This was, after all, entirely his fault.
Well - to be fair - and who could possibly want to be fair in a situation like this? Harry asked himself - it was also Seamus' fault. So Ron and Seamus were both going to hell. A one-way express trip, courtesy of Harold James Potter.
Most people wouldn't believe that something as trivial as a small practical joke would make Harry seriously consider murdering two of his best friends, but then they hadn't reckoned with the presence of Draco Malfoy.
* * *
There were a few moments in a person's life that made all the misery and angst that they went through worth it. These moments were rare and few and to be stored in the vault of memory for the rest of time.
Draco Malfoy, standing at the foot of the lake with a naked Harry Potter in front of him was having one of those moments.
Draco had been aware of the fact that Harry was attractive for a while now. Everybody was.
He'd come back in sixth year - the year after he'd defeated Voldemort, Draco assumed that the lifting of that burden was what had engendered the sudden change - minus glasses, baggy clothes and sporting a new hair cut. The long ebony hair had been grown out till it could be tied back in a pony tail. Without the mess of hair and oversized glasses people could actually get a good look at Harry's face. High cheekbones, a surprisingly delicate chin, wide thickly lashed emerald eyes and golden skin, which gave credence to his nickname 'The Golden Boy'.
That and a mouth that -
Well -
Really, the only tactful way of putting it was that there had been many a fantasy about that mouth, even in Slytherin.
"Full and made for fucking!" Blaise Zabini had aptly described it once.
This revealing episode had just confirmed Draco's speculations that the rest of the Harry package lived up to his expectations. And preferences.
"Well, well, Harry Potter. What do we have here?"
* * *
Harry was fairly sure he'd die of mortification soon. The once over Draco was giving him was doing bad things to his libido and as the only thing protecting him from total exposure at the moment were a pair of long slender hands, he was in trouble.
Hermione had once called them "artist hands".
- - -
"They're so graceful, Harry. You're so lucky to have nice hands, long tapered fingers and slender palms." Harry had blushed.
"There's no need to wax poetic about them 'Mione." Ron jumped in, ever the jealous boyfriend, "What you really mean is that they're girls' hands! Which is really perfect considering Harry's gay."
"Ronald Weasley! I can't believe you just said that! You insensitive git!"
"But it's true! Honestly, Hermione is it that time of the month?"
Needless to say the conversation rapidly degenerated from there.
- - -
In fact, now that Harry thought on it Harry wasn't sure that that fight wasn't the reason Ron had set up this little rendezvous. He'd become increasingly jealous of Harry and Hermione's growing closeness. Just how Ron planned to scotch Harry's friendship with Hermione by humiliating Harry in front of - in Harry's opinion - the best looking boy in school - who coincidentally Harry had had a crush on, since, well, he couldn't remember really - Harry had yet to figure out.
Harry was pulled from the reprieve of speculation by Draco's rapid encroachment on his personal space. Harry found this disturbing for many reasons.
One: Draco was bigger than him. About four inches taller and lithe, with rippling muscles - not that Harry had noticed his muscles before this moment or anything. Harry'd once heard Draco described as a panther on the prowl. At the time he'd dismissed it, it had after all come from the mouth of one of Draco's more idiotically infatuated fans, but now that he thought about it, he could see the acuteness of the comparison.
Two: From the way the slender embodiment of feline sensuality - and amazed Harry no end that Draco could look both slender and masculine at the same time, Harry knew he didn't pull it off - Draco's intentions were obviously slightly more than platonic.
Three: He wasn't bothered by the idea at all. In fact he wasn't sure his brain was functioning at all.
So when Draco kissed him, it seemed only natural to kiss him back. To open his mouth an let him in, to twine his hands in the soft blond hair and arch up to meet his nemesis' addresses. It all seemed so natural that he forgot that he was standing wet and naked at the edge of a lake, wrapped in the arms of his greatest enemy, who was fully dressed, defying all the laws of common sense.
* * *
Draco smiled as he disentangled himself from Harry, looking into his emerald eyes it was blatantly obvious - and totally adorable - that the poster boy for goodness and all round hero was ridiculously inexperienced. Though how anybody that looked as good as Harry did could survive unmolested, especially in the same house as Seamus 'I'm-a-slut' Finnigan, was a mystery to Draco.
The gorgeous befuddlement made it stunningly easy to bundle Harry into Draco's robes. The dazed Gryffindor followed Draco as he headed back to school, into the Slytherin common room and past the jealous eyes of Draco's housemates into Draco' room and from there to his bed.
* * *
Several hours, and many orgasms later, with Harry's head resting on his shoulder, Draco quietly reviewed the day. His new lover had proved to be mind-blowingly responsive. Eyes roaming over his sleeping lover, the delectable expanse of bare golden skin, slender limbs and supple muscles, Draco decided that Harry was going to be a permanent acquisition.
He was thoroughly going to enjoy the enraged look on the Weasel's face when he was informed that - thanks to his own manipulations - Harry Potter was now Draco's lover and - heaven help him - boyfriend.
Harry stirred, eyes blinking open to stare sleepily at his lover.
"Sleep time, Draco" he said in a fuzzy voice.
Draco melted. A rare true smile graced his face, as he looked at his bleary boyfriend.
"Yes it is." Leaning down and tenderly kissing Harry, Draco agreed. Oh how the mighty have fallen he smirked inwardly. "I'll sleep."
"Good, g'night." Harry mumbled burying his face in Draco's shoulder and getting comfy. "Love you."
Draco froze. He waited until he heard Harry's breathing level out, the sleepy Gryffindor obviously had no idea what he said. It was this very realisation that assured Draco that the sleeping boy had told the truth. Harry was bad enough at lying when fully conscious and making an effort, Draco had no doubts it was impossible for him to lie convincingly when half asleep.
Draco owed Weasley and Finnigan an island each, possibly two, for delivering straight into his arms, and consequently his bed, the boy of his dreams. He was sure he didn't those islands in the Bahamas any longer.
Wait hold that. Harry, beach, naked. Scrap that plan, Weasley and Finnigan were just going to have to be satisfied with Harry's eternal happiness.
Because Draco fully intended to keep Harry Potter - and keep him happily - for the rest of his natural life.
"Love you, too." Draco whispered.
After all, everybody falls in love eventually, even a Malfoy.
* * *
Author's Note:
Pure and unashamed fluff, I know, but it just came to me and I had to write it. This is intended to be a one-shot, but I might write more, after my first story Much Ado About Pranking is finished (and posted - it was removed from fanfiction.net a recommendation for a site to post it on would be great!). Reviews will be appreciated and flames will be dismissed with a flick of a marmalade tail!
Love,
The M. C.