Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I just didn't feel like writing. *sigh* Been dueling some instead...on Pottermore, that is. Got myself up to 100,000 Total House Points (current points are only 23,000 though) and now I'm content to put NightQueen21779 to bed...for a while, at least.

Now, I bring up Pottermore, because it's a friend on there (and our Pottermore Facebooks) who gave me an idea (sort of) for a pairing in this fic. I think you'll know who I mean when you get to them. *grin* Nothing outlandish...just sort of mentioned at the end of the chapter. And I must thank you, Hummer (WalnutRook)...though you'll probably never see/read this since I've never given you the link.

Warning: There's a shower scene...and that's all I'm going to say by way of warning.

Still Christmas
...at the Burrow!
Thursday, 25 December 2008

~ o ~

Torn between rushing over to his parents and running to hide from them, Draco just stood there, gawking at the two of them from a distance. He could see that his aunt Andromeda had joined her sister—Draco's mother—and that Molly Weasley was trying to coax both his parents to come further into the tent and join everyone. His mother was trying very hard to appear at ease, but his father looked as if he'd been dragged there by the Dark Lord himself and was glaring at Arthur Weasley.

And then two of the Weasley wives—George and Percy's—approached his parents, each holding one of his and Harry's younger twins. Angelina Weasley quickly handed his mother Sirius and led her over to a place to sit down and his father found his arms full of Lyra, who promptly reached up and gave her grandfather's long tidy hair a tug. Draco didn't think anyone else noticed, but he did not miss the twitch of a grin that lit up his father's face for a micro-second before he was once again looking stern and uncomfortable.

Realizing that he couldn't avoid greeting them, Draco brushed at his wet trousers, tried to adjust the scarf Molly had given him for Christmas, and pushed at the dripping hair that clung to his face, then took a deep breath and approached, everyone following him.

"Mother. Father," he said, stopping a short distance from his parents.

Still standing, Lyra in his arms, Lucius Malfoy looked his son up and down and grimaced disapprovingly.

"Draco, darling," Narcissa said, getting to her feet and going to her son—but not touching him—as soon as she saw him there. "Oh my, aren't you filthy. All of you," she added, her eyes scanning the group, then going back to her son.

"We were playing a game of Quidditch in the orchard," he explained, his tone flat—then bluntly asked, "What are you doing here?"

Narcissa frowned, but it was Lucius who answered. "I was under the impression that we were invited," the man said, looking annoyed and disgusted.

"Yes, but, I was under the impression that you would not be coming today," Draco countered.

"Your mother insisted," his father said darkly, casting a look at his wife that was anything but pleasant. "I would just as soon stay—"

"Oh darling," Narcissa broke in, effectively cutting her husband off, "you should really go clean up. Mrs. Weasley has just gone inside to bring out afters. I'm sure you'd rather not eat looking like that."

Draco bristled at this, but wasn't given a chance to respond, because Harry did. "We were just going to do that, Narcissa," he said with a smile—then to Draco he said "Come along, dear" as he took hold of and tugged on his wet scarf.

"I hate it when you do that!" Draco hissed when they were out of the garden—causing those following to laugh.

~ o ~

After making a detour to the broom shed, to drop off their Quidditch supplies, the group headed into the house—much to Molly's upset.

"You're getting mud all over my clean floor!" she yelled. "Shoes off outside!"

Turning, they all went back out, removed their shoes, then reentered the house—not that that was much better since they were all drenched and dripping.

"Ahh, much better," the plump woman said. "Strip down...all of you...and I'll just spell everything clean and dry while you take turns in the bathrooms. Go on!" she ordered, then went back to her dessert preparations.

Draco watched for a moment as everyone started stripping down in the kitchen—even the women!—then shrugged and did the same, leaving his outer clothing on the pile with everyone else's, but keeping his under garments on. Then, his cheeks slight pink, he followed the group down a long narrow passageway that apparently led to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up and into the rest of the Weasleys' wacky house.

On the first floor, several split off—most, in fact. Bill and Charlie took Rusty and Chuck into a room to change, and Ginny Weasley took the three other women into a room—her bedroom, Draco supposed—so that they could clean up. But before she closed the door though, she spoke.

"Harry, show Terence and Anthony to Percy's old room, would you?"

"Sure Gin," Harry responded as he continued up.

"And tell them where the bathroom is," she said as she shut her door.

On the second floor, George was just coming out of his former bedroom as they arrived on the landing and shook his head when Harry moved to show Ginny's boyfriends Percy's room.

"They don't want to go in there," George said, pretending to shudder. "You two can use my room." Then he snickered and started down the stairs.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Git that he is, I would suggest that you use Percy's room...I'm sure you remember George's penchant for trouble. And I'll bet Molly's already got your clothing cleaned and laid out on Percy's bed," he said, then added, "she's quick. And there's a bathroom on the next floor up."

Nodding, Terence and Anthony entered Percy's room and, sure enough, their clothing was already sitting there, folded nicely, on the bed.

"Wow. She is quick," Terence agreed.

Harry laughed, but it was Draco who commented. "With seven children, one has to be."

Smiling, Harry took Draco's hand and squeezed it, then continued up the rickety stairs.

"I'm surprised this place doesn't fall over," Draco said, his voice low, as they reached the fourth floor landing.

Squeezing Draco's hand again—this time in a shut it sort of way—Harry said, "You're perfectly safe, I promise you."

"Pfft!" the blond scoffed, his eyes taking everything in; the chipping paint, the shabby wallpaper, the uneven floor that was bare of any coverings—and the strange noises that were coming from somewhere up above.

On the fifth floor Harry knocked on Ron's door and was quickly allowed in—it was still the same violent shade of orange that it had always been even though his friend no longer lived in his parent's home.

"You two should use mum and dad's room," Ron said. "There's more room in there and a bathroom...I don't want you two fucking in my room," he added.

"You call this a room?" Draco grumbled, his nose wrinkling up—receiving an elbow from Harry that quickly shut him up.

"We wouldn't do that, Ron," said Harry.

Ron laughed. "Yeah. Right. Either way, your clothes aren't in my room, so mum must have put you in the master."

Shrugging, Harry and Draco turned and followed Ron back down to the fourth floor.

"See?" Ron said, pointing at Harry and Draco's neatly folded clothes. "And take a shower, would you? You two are a mess!" he said to them, lightly cuffing Draco on the head as he left, closing the door behind him.

"I still don't like him," the blond said after the door was firmly shut.

Already removing his underpants—which instantly vanished when he dropped them on the floor—Harry chuckled. "Yes you do...you just like pretending that you don't," he said as he headed for the bathroom. Turning on the shower, the dark-haired man stepped in and under the spray. "You coming in or not?" he shouted.

Draco had glanced around Arthur and Molly's bedroom, seeing nothing of interest really—except maybe the multitudes of happy family photos covering every square inch of the room—then approached the room that now had steam pouring out of it.

"I can wait for you to finish," he said.

Frowning, Harry stuck his head out of the shower. "Just get in here," he said. "It'll save time and water. I'll wash your back...and other things," he added when the blond just looked at him blankly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Everyone will know what we're doing up here if we're gone too long."

"Then we won't be gone too long. Come on. Strip down," Harry ordered, sounded disturbingly like Molly Weasley.

Sighing, Draco did as Harry wanted, but frowned when his pants also vanished.

"They'll be back before we're even out of here," Harry said. "A few years ago everyone chipped in and bought Molly a magical laundry chute. There's one in every room now...as if she needs that now that all of her children are out of the house. Still, comes in handy when they have guests."

Still frowning, because he wasn't sure how he felt about Molly Weasley seeing and washing his undergarments, Draco moved slowly toward the shower and looked in. "It's sort of small in there."

Harry laughed. "It's the size it needs to be for the size of the person...or people...who are using it," the showering man said. "Merlin, Draco, one would think you're unaccustomed to magic."

Stepping in, Draco watched as the shower stall widened to accommodate him and smiled. "I am, Potter!" he said irritably. "I live in Muggle London and haven't been around magic in years. Remember?"

Nodding, Harry picked up the soap and rolled it in his hands to produce a good amount of lather, then motioned for the blond to turn around. "Yes, I remember, but...you did grow up with magic. You had to have had all the best spells and enchantments on Malfoy Manor, right?"

"Yes. Father made sure Mother had anything and everything she wished for, but...we had servants and house-elves who tended to most things. To be honest, I never thought much about where my clothing went after I'd taken it off."

Harry laughed. "Of course, you didn't," he said as he washed Draco's back—then raked his fingernails over the pinking skin, causing the blond to shudder and groan. Rinsing his hands, Harry reached for the shampoo and poured a generous amount into his palm, then went about washing Draco's hair.

"Now I'm going to smell like Mrs. Weasley," the blond grumbled as Harry ran his fingers through Draco's soft hair, then used the tips of his fingers to massage his scalp.

"I'll neutralize the scent when we're done, if you wish," Harry promised. "Turn around and rinse."

Draco did as he was bid. Turning and tipping his head back, he let the water pour over his head, using his hands to make sure the soap was completely out of his hair—and groaning when he felt Harry's hands on his chest and moving lower.

"We should hurry. Turn around, I'll do you," Draco said as he reached for the soap—which Harry yanked out of reach.

"I already did me...while you were snooping about in Arthur and Molly's room," Harry teased as he physically turned Draco back toward the wall, then reached around and stroked him until he was painfully erect.

Shuddering violently, Draco tried to focus. "I wasn't snooping," he denied. "Just...looking at pictures. And we really should hurry—"

Harry laughed as Draco yelped. While the blond had been busy struggling to form coherent sentences, Harry'd pushed a soap-slickened finger into his arse while continuing to stroke his hard cock.

"You are completely evil," accused the blond, his eyes rolling back into this head as he felt Harry's finger crook and find just the right place.

Harry grinned. "What was that again?" he asked as he stroked Draco in both places until he was barely able to stand on his own.

"Evil," the blond whispered.

"Yep," agreed Harry, causing Draco to groan in frustration when he removed his finger and other hand and reached for his own hard member. "Bend over some," the dark-haired man said, his unoccupied hand pressing into Draco's back to force the issue when the blond didn't immediately respond.

Again, Draco did as Harry wished, wedging his feet up against the sides of the shower stall and bending at the knees slightly, then leaning forward and using the wall for support.

And then he felt Harry enter him. Quick, but easy. For a moment they just stood there connected intimately, but soon the dark-haired man began fondling him again. One of Harry's hands went back to stroking Draco's aching cock while the other reached down between his spread legs and started caressing his bollocks, rolling them gently—just the way the blond liked it.

But Harry wasn't fucking him and it was driving him mad.

"Harry. Please," he begged.

For a few more moments, Harry ignored the blond's pleas, because he very much liked watching the other man come apart at the seams, shaking and shivering as Harry toyed with him. But then the dark-haired man took pity on him and rocked his hips, causing Draco to moan.

"Kiss me," Harry said after a few pushes and pulls into and out of Draco's body.

Turning is head, Draco searched blindly—he couldn't seem to open his eyes—for Harry's mouth, which crashed into his. Their tongues battled for a time, then Harry pushed him up and into the shower wall, where he fucked him in earnest.

"I'm coming!" Draco cried a few thrusts later, his body quaking violently as he sprayed the shower wall with his seed.

"Me too," moaned Harry as he too came.

~ o ~

Some time later, dressed once again in clean dry clothes, Draco and Harry came down the uneven stairs, holding hands and grinning like loons. But, upon entering the kitchen, they stopped short—when they found Ron and George Weasley sitting at their parents' long worn wooden table, apparently waiting for them. Both looked a bit perturbed.

Ron glanced at George. "Wouldn't do that, he told me."

"Good thing it's raining so hard outside, Ronniekins," said George, "or the entire household would have gotten an earful."

"Really, mate?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowed on Harry again.

Harry blushed. "We forgot a silencing charm," he said flatly, then looked at Draco—who was half glaring at him.

"I will deal with you later," the blond hissed at Harry—then he glared at Ron. "Don't worry, Weasel, we didn't fuck in your room."

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's hardly the point. Couldn't even last a few hours without sex," he said with a shake of his head. "You're sick, Malfoy."

"Sorry Ron," Harry said, his face pink, "but...it wasn't Draco's fault. I...ahh...sort of pushed the issue."

Ron rolled his eyes again—then grinned. "As if we care, mate," he said, getting up and slapping Harry on the back in a friendly manner.

"Was hard keeping mum out of the house though, Harry," George added. "Sent the others out to distract her."

Harry blushed again. "Sorry."

George shrugged. "We've all been there." Then glancing at Draco, he said, "Well, not there, but...you know what I mean."

Draco glared, but Harry chuckled. "Well, what can we do to help out your mum?" the dark-haired man asked.

"More like, what can we do to help out good old Lucius," George said, moving to the back door to see the goings on outside.

Draco and Harry quickly went to the window to find Draco's father surrounded by his grandchildren and looking more than uncomfortable.

"He needs a drink," Draco decided. "Might relax him a bit."

Harry snorted. "Better bring him the bottle."

Draco wanted to glare over the comment, but found himself nodding instead. "Or a self-refilling glass."

George's eyes lit up. "Let's get him snockered," he suggested—causing Draco to snort.

"I have never seen my father inebriated," the blond said.

George grinned. "Do you want to? You do, don't you?"

"Mother would be furious," Draco said. "I'm not sure it's such a good idea."

"Oh come on, Malfoy, let us have some fun," the older Weasley said.

Rolling his eyes, Draco sighed. "Just be careful. You know my father isn't a very nice man and I don't want your mother's lovely party ruined just because you two can't control yourselves."

George grinned. "Ronniekins, go get a bottle of wine and a self-refilling glass."

~ o ~

As soon as Draco and Harry—with George and Ron and a very large wine bottle—returned to the group outside, Lucius was glaring at them.

"Did it somehow slip your mind that we're here, Draco? Amongst these people. For you!" the patriarch of the Malfoy family snarled once his son was close enough to hear him—without most others hearing, Draco hoped. The older man was sitting in an outdoor lawn chair, his nose in the air, all prim and proper—if that was possibly in such a setting—with three-year-old Scopius sleeping in his arms.

"No, Father, it didn't," Draco said, his eyes going from his peacefully sleeping son to his snooty father. "We were just...getting cleaned up."

"Yes, I can see that," Lucius said, his lip curling in disgust as his eyes roved over his son—and son-in-law to be. It did not escape his attention that they both looked flushed with more than just a hot shower. "Not sure why it took you two so much longer than everyone else, but I'm not pleased to have been left sitting out here alone while you dallied in that...house," he said, his gaze going to what the Weasleys called a home, then back to his son.

"You were hardly alone, Father," Draco countered.

Lucius snorted, but didn't have a chance to speak.

"Wine, Mr. Malfoy?" George asked as he uncorked the bottle and poured the man a glass, then held it out—almost in Lucius' face—until the man took it.

At about this time, Scorpius awoke and rubbed his eyes with his small fists, then grinned sleepily. "Poppy," he said, raising his arms for Harry to pick him up—which Harry instantly did.

"Hey sweetie," Harry said, hugging the three-year-old and placing a kiss on his tousled blond head. "Did you have a nice nap?"

Scorpius nodded. "Yes. Gran'papa keeped me warm."

Harry smiled and glanced down at Lucius Malfoy to see his reaction—the older man had puffed up slightly, showing Harry that he did indeed care. For Scorpius, at least. But Harry still wondered what the man thought about his other six grandchildren.

"Dad! Daddy, you're back!" Caelum said, rushing up to them with several other children in tow—Teddy included, his hair currently as light blond as the Malfoys'. "Can I stay over at Teddy's tonight. He asked his grandma and...I really want to."

Draco frowned. "What about your new puppy?"

Caelum's face fell, then his eyes brightened again. "Teddy could stay with us instead," he proposed. "We'll be real good, I promise...and even help with the babies."

Still frowning, Draco glanced at Harry to see what he thought.

"How about you let us discuss it and we'll let you know before we're ready to go home," said Harry.

Caelum grinned, then ran off with Teddy and the others.

"As if seven children in one household isn't enough," Lucius said under his breath snidely.

~ o ~

About an hour later—with several glasses of wine in him—Lucius Malfoy was feeling no pain. But that's not to say that he was being any more pleasant; he was still at the Weasleys against his will.

"How can you stand it here, Weasley?" the blond man asked Arthur, his lip curling in disgust as he waited for his glass to refill itself yet again. "I mean, I know they've finally begun to pay you well at the Ministry, so...why do you continue to live in this...hovel?"

"As always, we have a very different view of things, Malfoy," Arthur said politely.

"Lucius," Molly corrected from next to her husband, then pursed her lips.

Arthur nodded. "Lucius," he amended. There was a time that he would have gotten angry—a time when he'd physically responded to Lucius Malfoy's malicious gibes—but now he knew they were no longer said with hate. Lucius still meant what he was saying, but...things were different now. And that made a huge difference.

"Clearly," the blond man drawled, his pale eyes rolling, then scanning the assembled group as he lifted his glass and took a hefty sip, then tsked several times. "The company you keep, Weasley...and I thought—"

"You're not really going to remark on that again, are you?" Arthur asked. "I mean, you are here, at my house, socializing with us on Christmas."

His gray eyes slightly glazed over, Lucius Malfoy frowned. "Point taken," he said, then took another sip of wine. "Though, in my defense...it's not by choice."

"All right, dear," Narcissa cut in. "That's enough." She'd been ignoring her husband's somewhat snide comments throughout the evening, but now, seeing as it appeared a tirade might be on its way, she felt more inclined to nip it in the bud.

But her husband glared at her. "It's the truth, Narcissa," the man hissed heatedly.

Raising a brow, Narcissa glanced from her husband's face to his glass, then, realizing he was well on his way to intoxication, reached out and confiscated the glass. "I think we've had enough," she said firmly as she turned the glass upside down and emptied its contents into the grass at her feet—then wandlessly cast a Finite to prevent the glass from refilling again. "Molly," she said, handing the now empty glass to their hostess. "Might I trouble you for some tea?"

Molly Weasley blinked, but took the glass and hurried away with it—only to find two of her sons almost doubled over in their mirth.

"George! Ronald! I cannot believe you two. Inside. NOW!" she barked.

"I wasn't finished, wife," Lucius complained as Molly disappeared into the house.

"Yes. Yes you are," Narcissa said firmly.

~ o ~

At least an hour later—possibly quite a bit more—the gathering at the Burrow was wrapping up. Lucius Malfoy had sobered up some, which had, for the most part, shut him up—much to his wife's happiness—and Molly Weasley had managed to shame George and Ron into contrition, forcing them both to apologize to Narcissa Malfoy, if not her husband.

"So, Dads, can Teddy spend the night. Pleezzz," Caelum begged, his palms pressed together and shoved up under his chin.

Giving each other a look, Draco and Harry smiled. "We've discussed it with your grandmother and have decided that, this time, it will be all right," Draco said to the boy.

Letting out hoots of glee, both boys jumped up and down.

"But no more asking in front of people, young man," Harry added. "That puts us on the spot and makes us want to say no."

His eyes round, Caelum nodded.

"If it happens again, the answer is no," said Draco.

Nodding again, Caelum turned and hugged Teddy, then they both ran into the house to gather their things.

"Are you sure this is all right?" Andromeda asked the two young men. "You two already have seven children in the house, do you really want one more?"

Harry shrugged. "What's one more? Besides, Teddy's no trouble at all and...you need a break sometimes too."

The woman smiled. "True."

Then, glancing over at some of the others—Arnold Weasley in particular—Harry grinned. "And, by the looks of things, you might have a guest this evening yourself," he said cheekily.

Andromeda's face flamed red at the comment, her eyes avoiding his for the moment.

Frowning, it seemed to take Draco a moment to figure out what was going on, then it dawned on him and he shook his head. "That was positively boorish, Potter," he scolded.

Harry had the decency to blush, but he was still smirking.

"It's fine, Draco dear," Andromeda said, placing her hand on her nephew's forearm. "I just was not expecting it from Harry. And yes," she went on, her face still flushed as her gaze turned toward Harry, "I do believe you are right."

"Un-believable," Lucius hissed out, his voice barely above a whisper—but still loud enough to earn himself his wife's elbow.

"Tomorrow then," Narcissa said, looking at her sister, "we'll see you and Arnold at the Manor for tea, yes?"

Andromeda nodded, then reached out and embraced the other woman; it was so nice to have her sister back in her life again. She'd lost so much, but reconnecting with Narcissa meant the world to her...even if she had to deal with Lucius Malfoy.

"Are you ready, Andromeda?" Arnold Weasley said as he came up to them and offered the woman his arm.

"Seems so," she responded, taking his arm, then glancing around. "Happy Christmas, everyone."

There were a chorus of Happy Christmases from the dispersing group, then, with a loud crack, Andromeda Tonks and Arnold Weasley Apparated away.

"I cannot believe what I've just seen," Lucius Malfoy grumbled. "Did your sister just leave with a Weasley?" He snorted. "Or, maybe I can believe it," he went on. "It's not like the woman had any taste to begin with. Married that Muggleborn and—"

"Lucius, dear," Narcissa quickly interrupted. "Do shut up." Then turning, she wrapped her arms around her son. "Thank you, darling. I had a lovely time. I'm glad we decided to join you."

Lucius snorted, but they ignored him.

"I'm glad you were both here as well, Mother," Draco said, including his father with the 'we,' but not particularly meaning it as far as the other man was concerned. "Christmas wouldn't be the same without you."

Narcissa's blue eyes lit up and sparkled. She was pleased beyond measure to hear her son say such a thing. "Thank you, darling," she said again, giving her son another squeeze, then looking at Harry. "And thank you too, dear. Your family is quite remarkable."

Harry grinned. "I think so," he said, his gaze quickly going about the gathering and everyone still there saying their goodbyes. "I know it's been rough, but...seems we've come full circle, yeah?"

"Indeed we have," Narcissa said with a nod, then folded her son's love into her arms and hugged him. Then, backing off some, she noticed Arthur and Molly Weasley approaching. Given their pasts, she'd been quite unsure about attending, but the Weasleys had been perfectly nice—even when her own husband tried to stir things up. In fact, she'd not once thought about the fact that Molly Weasley had been responsible for the death of her other sister, Bellatrix; it was almost like it had never happened. Finally, Narcissa could let it go.

"Arthur. Molly, thank you ever so much," Narcissa said, holding a hand out first to the man—who politely took it—and then to the red-haired woman.

But Molly just stared at it. "Oh posh!" she exclaimed. Reaching out, she pulled the blonde woman into her arms, causing Narcissa to stiffen for a moment, because she wasn't used to such exuberance. But only for a moment—it was hard to deny Molly Weasley a hug.

"Don't be a stranger now, you hear," Molly ordered. "We're family now more than ever."

Considering the statement, Narcissa nodded. It was true. Both Arthur and Molly had ties to the Black family and...if things went the way they appeared to be going, her very own sister might just be a Weasley before another year passed. Seeing Andromeda leave with Arnold Weasley was quite the shocker, but...c'est la vie, she told herself. And then there was little Teddy Lupin, who, Narcissa could already see, might someday make a life with little Victoire Weasley—it was hard to miss eight-year-old girl making moon eyes over the boy two years her senior, though the boy hadn't noticed it yet. And now Molly's Harry and her Draco were an item with seven children to account for. Family, she thought, such a wonderful thing.

~ o ~

"Well, that went reasonably well," Draco said once he and Harry were home and had a puppy and eight children settled into their beds.

"I'd say spectacularly well," Harry corrected as he pulled on his pyjama bottoms and crawled into bed. "A few bumps perhaps, but no Malfoy/Weasley knock-down, drag-out brawls."

Draco nodded—then shook his head. "I can hardly believe it went so well. Even after what your friends did to my father."

Harry grinned as he settled himself in bed beside the blond. "You have to admit, it was funny."

Cracking the tiniest of smiles, Draco shrugged. "I'm not going to deny that," he agreed. "But Mother wasn't too pleased."

Harry snorted. "Neither was Molly. I think Ron and George are going to be responsible for de-gnoming her garden come spring and summer."

"Serves them right for causing a ruckus."

Turning, Harry tossed an arm over Draco's chest and snuggled into him. "Were you too uncomfortable?"

"Atrociously so," Draco drawled.

Harry frowned. "Really?"

"Well, that scene you caused by fucking me in the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's shower, in the middle of a Christmas get-together was...awkward."

"Pfft! Only Ron and George knew about that."

"Highly doubtful, Potter. They're just the ones who stayed inside and listened to us," Draco argued.

"That's not true. They stayed in to keep everyone else out," Harry disagreed.

"Well yes, but...the perverts didn't bother with putting up a silencing spell for us, so...they must have been getting off on it."

Harry frowned. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked, now worried that Draco had been upset all day.

"You are entirely too gullible, Potter," said the blond, rolling his eyes as he turned his head and kissed the green-eyed man next to him—then grabbed Harry's hand and pushed it under the sheets. "Now make yourself useful. This talk of getting off makes me want to get off."

Grinning, Harry wrapped his hand around Draco's hardness and gave a few tugs, then decided to use his mouth instead. Slipping under the sheets, Harry found what he wanted—licking and sucking until Draco finally came undone.

Questions...comments? Please let me know.