Happy Snow Day everyone! For those of you who still have to go to school because of a lack of snow though, I laugh at you. Ha.

Free time is always great for inspiration, and I was actually found my inspiration for this drabble from a fic I was reading here at fanfic. I was just minding my own business, reveling over how awesome Edward Cullen/Harry is despite the fact that I hate Twilight, when I found this fic from a new-time author (or one who was close to that). It was a good story, a few problems here and there, but then I reached one of my biggest pet peeves ever in writing, especially for authors who just started writing seriously.

The Angst Chapter; the one chapter where all of the characters horrifically abused pasts are revealed bluntly and clichely with little warning. Otherwise known as TMA for me; Too Much Angst.

So I decided to write something fluffy in my depressed state of mind, and who better to be fluffy with Harry than his giant Scottish puppy-person (don't argue this fact with me; I always win in stupid arguments – I have more experience with stupidity)?

So enjoy some mind-rotting fluff.

The steady sound of a knife hitting a chopping block created a smooth rhythm that lulled the senses, though Oliver made sure to keep his wits about him; he didn't want another trip to St. Mungo's with a frantic Harry screaming about sliced off fingers and bleeding to death, and of all things, dragon pox when he all he had done was nick his finger on a dull blade. Then again, Harry was over-protective in the extreme; he said it was his prerogative being the savior of the entire Magical realm, but most (read: Oliver) thought he just found some perverse enjoyment out of taunting others.

It was his inner-Slytherin, which had flourished following the final defeat of Voldemort five years ago. Oliver was still trying to decide if that was a good thing or not.

Harry was manipulative these days, always doing whatever he though necessary to get what he wanted. Just two months past, he had been caught riding his broom while ill, and though Oliver could understand the obsession with flying, he knew that Harry need to learn a lesson about going out in gale force winds and freezing rain shirtless while sick with pneumonia.

So he cockblocked him.

Not his greatest idea ever because, while Harry was faithful, he always got what he wanted and he had received more sex then he could handle when Oliver caught him taunting him by dancing with two other guys. Let it never be said that Oliver wasn't a possessive lover.

Oliver set his knife down with a sigh and a fond smile, streching his neck and bathing in the sunlight that streamed in from the kitchen window. He always got stuck with dinner duty despite the fact that Harry was the better cook and Oliver hated cooking. Harry said Oliver did it because he could never refuse him anything; Oliver said he cooked because Harry always let him top when he did so. Harry never disagreed.

Setting the chopped vegetables into whatever concoction Harry had whipped up earlier that could be radioactive poison for all he knew, Oliver followed the sound of piano playing, knowing that he would find his husband with his newest hobby at the source of the music.

And find him he did, though not as expected. Harry, face flushed, eyes wide and panting, his pale unclothed body draped over the grand piano playing by magic like some sinful little dancer, making Oliver instantly as hard as the emerald-eyed tempter obviously was.

Harry shifted, Oliver's lust darkened eyes following him, trailing over the body still covered in love bites from earlier today. Oliver licked his lips; his little lover was insatiable, but it was always fun to try and see if he could finally slake his raven's lust completely.

"Thirty minutes," Harry gasped, running a thin hand down his body, and Oliver strangled the moan rising in his throat. "Until the food has to come off. Think you can handle me?"

Not three seconds later, Oliver was by his side, stripping off his clothes with a wide grin and a tempting leer. "More than enough time," he murmured, meeting the younger's lips fiercely.

Harry grinned into the kiss, reaching down to grab his lover tightly. As always, he had gotten what he wanted.

Ah! The return of seductive Harry from the second chapter! He has snuck up on me!

...So this ended up more pervy than fluffy, but can you blame me? Harry, all pale and sinfully not-innocent, and Oliver with his Quidditch-hardened muscles and his lust-deepened brogue...Hmm, I should stop before things get out of hand.

What is going on with me and my drabbles finally earning their M-rating? First the Twins/Harry (Ms. Morgan, I'm holding you to that promised fic), and now Ollie/Harry...molestable Harry for the win?

Remember, review; each time you review a kitten is born. Or a puppy. Or a baby Ocelot. Your choice.

Ariaeris~