The Cake That Ties Us.
Summary: Blaise and Seamus provide Harry with a very welcome rescue...
Rating: Very soft R. Warnings: mild slash.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to J. K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Franchise. I've just borrowed them for a while. Not written for profit, and no copyright infringement intended.
Written for JMDC #64 - cake and strippers, and as a gift to dannyfranx (for getting me back into the big bad world of fanfic in the first place), saras_girl (for being awesome and reading through my DA fanfic for me) and also as a very belated thanks to veritas03 for the birthday gift and lots of lovely journal comments.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing in this 'verse, so I already know it's going to lack a bit of depth. I'll wobble for a little while before I get my sea legs. Written at five o'clock in the morning, without a Beta or aid of tea. You've been warned...
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Harry let out a deep sigh of relief and stepped through the front door of his flat.
"Seriously, guys; thank you for this."
Blaise and Seamus turned to look at him with matching teasing grins.
"Well, Harry," Seamus laughed, "I think you've had more nipple tassels this evening than any gay man can take."
A slightly tortured smile flashed across Harry's mouth. One of these days he really had to remind Ron and George that he just wasn't interested in boobs. He reached out to clasp each of his friends' shoulders, "I don't know what I'd do without you two."
Blaise raised a hand to grip Harry's wrist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Luckily for you my friend, you will never have to find out. And even more luckily," he added, moving away to drape an arm around his lover, "we have left you a very delectable present in your den."
"Aye. Happy Birthday, Harry," Seamus reached out for a hug before stepping back out of the door. "We're going to head back and, er..." He looked decidedly sheepish and blushed a dark red, smiling up at Blaise.
"And reaffirm our own flavour of masculinity." Blaise finished, nodding at Harry with a self-satisfied wink.
Chuckling warmly, Harry wished both of his friends goodnight and softly closed the door.
With a slightly tired smile, he toed off his shoes and wiggled his feet into the plush carpet. He pulled off his jumper, dropping it carelessly onto the floor as he headed towards the den.
Opening the study door, a wave of pleasant, sandalwood-scented warmth brushed over him. A dull burn came from the wall sconces, and he murmured his approval at the welcome his friends had set for him. One thing, however, seemed rather conspicuously out of place. There, in front of his favourite chair, was a giant, three-tiered cake.
Looking quizzically at the unexpected foodstuff, he carefully made his way around the white-icing monstrosity. Having successfully circumnavigated himself to the other side, he saw a note on the side table, propped up against a decanter of his favourite firewhisky. Someone, Blaise he guessed, had poured a glass ready for him and thoughtfully wrapped it in a gentle warming bubble. Shaking his head with a bemused smile, he sank into the brown leather of the Chesterfield and retrieved the note.
Harry,
Knowing George and Ron, they have likely taken you to some hideously straight strip club. It's your birthday, you fool; next time tell them no! Enjoy the Glenfraig - but more importantly, take your time enjoying the cake.
Now say thank you, and sit back and go with it.
B & S. x
Harry placed the note back on the table with a soft laugh to himself, and ended the warming bubble on the Glenfraig. Taking a smooth sip, he savoured the pleasant burn in the back of his throat and settled more comfortably into the chair.
Delighting in the scorch of the whisky and the heat of the fire, he loosened a couple more shirt buttons and sat back to look at his "delectable present." The cake, he thought, was truly hideous. He had no doubt that this part of the gift had been all Seamus' idea; Blaise would never allow an angel cake with evil white piping. He didn't even like cake! Still, he mused, it was done with the best intentions and it had certainly brought a smile to his face.
Harry raised his glass in a mock toast to his friends and took a respectable gulp. "Thanks, boys. You are truly something."
As he lowered his glass he could feel a tightening in the chair. Attempting to stand, he found that he couldn't move. Forcing himself not to panic and taking a deep breath, Harry moved his limbs and discovered that he still had a full range of movement as long as he didn't try to leave the Chesterfield. He was about to mentally rip his friends a new one for daring to touch his beloved chair when a soft music began playing around the room. Gentle candlelight flared around him, and he realised that this must be the "sit back and enjoy" the note had mentioned. He was going to kill Blaise later.
The music cleared and he was able to hear lyrics to the song. If this world is wearing thin, And you're thinking of escape... Shakespear's Sister! Seamus knew he loved this song. He closed his eyes and lulled his head back to the tune. The warmth from the fire curled around his neck and he let out a contented sigh. Chair aside, he thought, this was a rather lovely surprise. Dozing into a satisfied haze, Harry swished his toes to the rhythm, enjoying the nostalgic timbre of her voice. As the song drifted into the second verse, a movement caught his senses.
Instincts on alert, Harry blinked his eyes open in time to see the top layer of the cake shimmer and vanish. The back of a blonde head came into view, hair just about licking at a black collar. Slowly, the next layer began to fade, and Harry gripped his glass tightly as the cloaked figure began to sway softly to the melody. The final layer disappeared, and he saw a pair of bare feet peeking out from under the heavy, black folds. The body continued to weave into the music, the edges of the cloak flicking up to reveal soft, pale heels.
The song crescendoed higher, and a very flushed, worryingly stimulated and remarkably embarrassed Harry, was already contemplating murder. The song was just about to drop into the guttural, dark melodic hook and Harry's eyes were gleaming with green ire. They'd got him a stripper. He was going to kill Blaise and Seam -
The beat dropped and the figure sashayed to face him. The man, for it was certainly a man, ducked his head, letting a sweep of white-gold hair fall over his face. The light of the flames flickered over the pale cascade, sending mutes of firelight to dance over the whitened canvas. With a seductive roll of his shoulders, the man's robe fell in pools to the floor. And Harry forgot how to breathe.
Under the cloak was a gorgeous, muscled torso; pale skin framed by an unbuttoned white shirt. Black trousers hung low at lickable hips, defying gravity as a slender hand dipped to open the top button. Harry moved his gaze upwards again to see a shimmering white scar traced over the chestbone, mostly hidden by the green and silver tie hanging...
Harry's breath came back in a sharp gasp. Blonde hair.. Pale skin.. White scars.. Slytherin tie..
The man made a minute movement of his head, and Harry raised his eyes to look into the face of the vision before him. Grey eyes burned into green, and Harry dropped the firewhisky to the floor.
Malfoy.
Gods, he was incredible. Dipping his shoulders and pulsing his hips, Malfoy painted an image of unbridled sensuality, and he couldn't help the small murmur that escaped his lips. Harry's heartbeat pounded in his ears, and wished that his Chesterfield would swallow him whole. There was no way he was going to live this down. Desperate for an escape, Harry searched those eyes for the mockery, the humiliation, that he was sure was going to come any moment now. It was more painful a thought than he'd expected. Bitterness seeped into his mouth and Harry dropped his gaze. Staring at his knees, he tried to loosen the tension that had seized his jaw. Harry forced his breath back under control, closing his eyes, when a light touch jolted him out of his withdrawal. A fleeting stroke of a finger ran over his jawline, instantly smoothing the defensiveness away.
Shivering at the whisper of cool skin, Harry allowed Malfoy to tilt his chin upwards, swallowing nervously before meeting his eyes. Pale lashes blinked at him, but there was no mockery to be found in that stare. Holding Harry's gaze, a small smile curled at the edges of Malfoy's lips and he began to weave to the melody once more.
Malfoy lifted his arms to cover his chest and twisted his hands over his wrists. Slowly, he unbuttoned each of his cuffs, still flicking the edges of his shirttails with the writhe of his hips. Harry watched, mesmerised, as those hands stroked up their torso to pull the collar of his shirt out from under his tie. Malfoy flicked his hair back and the strands sent the firelight dancing. Arching himself backwards, he pulled the rest of the shirt from his body, leaving the flamefire to flash over his flesh. Harry's heart leapt into his mouth as he followed the play of the firelight over the dusky peaks on his chest, so dark against the fairness of his skin.
Rolling in a slow, heavy rhythm, Malfoy stared into Harry's gaze as he trailed his fingers over his own torso, tracing over the shadows of his collarbone and up again through gossamer hair. Shirt forgotten on the floor, Harry could feel the throbbing build inside of him as deft hands moved to unknot the green and silver tie. His eyes followed the fabric as it hang over the contours of the scarred chest; pulled around his neck and run tantalisingly over his navel before finally wrapping it around slender, kissable wrists.
Captivated by the sight undulating in front of him, Harry was sure he'd never been so hard in his life. As Malfoy swayed towards him, bare feet sinking into the rug on the den floor, Harry was assaulted by a desire burning greater than any fire he'd ever known. Obviously seeing something of his desperation in his face, Malfoy gave him a rare, genuine smile. A wave of relief flashed over him, and Harry smiled in return; eyes sparkling as a slender hand held out one end of the Slytherin tie. Grasping the cool silk, Harry followed as Malfoy pulled him up out of the chair towards him, the magical bonds somehow forgotten, and pressed them together, wrapping the tie around both of their necks.
Yes, Harry thought, as Malfoy led him down to the floor in front of the fire. He was definitely going to have his cake and eat it.
- fin -