Bugger Indeed

To Lucy, Happy Birthday

"Oh, Merlin, what is it now?"

Harry winced and looked back at the bed. He thought he had been ever-so-quiet and -subtle, but according to the rather frustrated look on a certain Malfoy's face, it would appear he had been mistaken.

"I, uh… I'm going to the bathroom," Harry replied. Draco rolled his eyes.

"You used that excuse last time," he pointed out. Harry swore, but not aloud. Never aloud.

"Well, the kitchen, then," he tried.

"Your cover's blown, idiot. Now I know you're lying," Draco said. He sighed in a way that just said I-am-far-too-intelligent-and-pretty-for-this, before he flopped (gracefully) back onto his pillow. For a moment, Harry was distracted by the shirtless young man lying in their bed. Very, very distracted. Then his brain reminded him that he was supposed to be doing something.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he said calmly. "I'm going out, and you are staying here, and that's just the way of it."

Draco might have been shocked by the conviction of Harry's words, if it hadn't been for the lack of conviction in his voice.

"You're not going anywhere," Draco said.

"Oh, yes I am!" Harry cried, almost gleeful at his own personal (and very minor) triumph. He quickly ran out of the room before Draco could put up another argument. It was an annoying thing, but as it turned out, Harry could rarely resist arguments put forth by one shirtless young ex-Slytherin. Especially when lying in bed.

He bolted down the stairs and out the front door, smiling happily at the purple light that signalled dawn.

Draco lay back in bed. There was no chance he was going to get back to sleep, now. But there was also no chance that he was going to get up. He'd be damned if he was leaving the comfortable, warm bed this early on an autumn morning!

Instead, he rolled onto his side and pulled a book from the bedside table. A little light reading and-

Three minutes later he had fallen asleep again. Apparently, he had never really absorbed the lesson about not reading poetry at five-thirty in the morning.

Some time later that day, around noon, Draco was woken again. This time, it was by the sound of a never-as-subtle-as-he-thinks Harry trying desperately to return to the house in silence.

"I can hear you, Potter!" Draco called from his bed. He heard Harry mutter something, that may or may not have been a swear word. If it was, it was undoubtedly a mild one. Harry never really swore.

"Where have you been for-" Draco checked the clock. "Six and a half hours?"

"Busy," Harry called back.

"I've no doubt of that," Draco replied as he rolled himself out of bed and started the arduous task of finding clothes that he actually wanted to wear. "But, busy where?"

"Not telling!" Harry called up the stairs. Draco smiled. Despite himself, he really did like that man.

Downstairs, Harry rushed to the laundry and deposited a few bags of things in there. He knew they were well safe: Draco never did the laundry. Not even when he was feeling in a tidying mood. Laundry was a strictly non-Malfoy task, and no Malfoy would ever be caught dead near a laundry basket (true fact, even the ghosts never haunted near the laundry room).

Harry smiled, pleased with himself, and went back into the kitchen.

"Is it breakfast or lunch?" he called. Draco was on his way down the stairs, holding several piles of clothes in his hands and considering them carefully. He was, by now, only up to the bathrobe stage of the dressing procedure. Harry shook his head, grinning.

"Oh, I don't know," Draco said. He sighed dramatically and dropped himself into the nearest chair. Harry smiled and went to stand beside him.

"I think the grey would be nice, today," he said, and Draco looked up at him, a little smile on his face.

"I know," he said. "But which grey?"

At this point, Harry actually looked at the clothes. At first, he had, in his own magical little mind, seen a whole myriad of colours. Now, when he actually focused on the clothes, all that was there was black pants, in various forms, and several different grey jumpers. Presumably, Draco was already wearing a t-shirt of sorts.

"I'll leave you to consider," Harry said, all charm and accommodation. Then he made a swift exit from the room and began preparing a mixture of both breakfast and lunch foods. He, himself was mighty hungry.

"Draco," Harry said during breakfast. "When's the last time you looked at a calendar?"

Draco laughed. "Yesterday."

"Why is that funny?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Well, my dear Harry," Draco started, as if explaining to a minor. "It seems a silly question to ask the man whose birthday it almost is."

"I see," Harry said. And it was only now that he realised he needn't have been so subtle this morning. "And which calendar did you look at?"

"The one Witches' Weekly released. 'Potter For All Seasons, 2005'," Draco replied as if Harry was a complete twit.

"You are of course aware, dear Draco, that they have released another calendar since then, aren't you?" Harry asked. Draco stared at him, puzzled.

"Why would they do that?" He asked.

"Because it's 2006, Draco," Harry replied. Draco's eyes widened and he leapt up from the table and dashed to the wall where the calendar was kept. It was true! Witches' Weekly had released a 'Potter and Malfoy, All Year, 2006' Calendar. How could he not have noticed? He quickly flipped through the pages and found his birthday.

"I-" he paused.

"Go on," Harry grinned.

"It's-"

"Yes…" Harry sidled over to the laundry.

"Today-"

"Mmm," Harry reached in and grabbed the package out.

"It's-"

Harry made his way back to where Draco stood, and hugged him from behind, presenting the first gift of several which he had bought for this very occasion.

"Happy birthday," Harry whispered, and nuzzled the side of Draco's neck.

Draco squealed.

At first, shocked Harry thought he may have found the Draco-equivalent to the g-spot, but the Draco let forth another squeal, and Harry learned the truth.

"Presents!" Draco cried, and he dashed back to the table where they all now lay. Harry's were there, along with various others that had been sent via owl for the occasion.

"Dinner tonight," Harry promised with a big smile on his face. "And everyone's here on Friday for a celebration."

"I love celebrations!" Draco said giddily.

"I know," Harry replied. At that point, Draco looked up, and Harry was reminded why, in previous years, he had avoided seeing Draco at present-time on his birthday. There was something in the young man's eyes that could only be described as carnivorous. Harry smiled gently and pointed at the table.

"Aren't you going to open your presents, Draco?" He asked fearfully. He swallowed.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I believe I am," Draco replied. He leaped up from his seat, vaulted over the thin table (avoiding all the presents) and knocked Harry over backwards and off his chair.

"But first, I'm opening the best of them."

Harry's eyes fluttered as a hand was pushed down into his pants.

"Oh, bugger," Harry swore.

For a moment, Draco raised his eyebrows. Then he replied.

"Bugger indeed."