Kisses Sweeter Than Wine
A/N: THANX TO chrisseee667: *giggles* Yes, they are just the cutest thing, eh? Black Night: *blush* Aw, it really isn't me, it's my fabu musies Tyrone and Antuan who are working on this one! Chireel: *sigh* You're soooo lucky mum and dad are gone for you!! Lady Rillen: *bows* I thank thee, milady! SunShine*Malfoy: Whee! I deffinitely will! ^_^ Green-and-Silver: *pouts* I don't have a Yahoo acount, but it did sound lovely! Thank you anyway for the offer!
Chapter Three: Serious Bummage
He sat out on the edge of the rickety old dock, his long legs dangling over the side, toes brushing lightly the surface of the crystal glass water. Tiny ripples from his skin flashed over the water, glittering in the evening light. His jeans were clumsily rolled up to his knees, socks lying in his shoes beside him. It was peaceful and beautiful out in the semidarkness. The only thing disrupting the perfection of the evening being the slim trail of smoke twining up from his lips barely parted lips.
They were called Cigarillos, and were Harry's favorite. Whenever he would go get one for his monthly smoke, little children (girls mostly) would be poking at them and talking about how good they smelled and wondering what they would taste like. For these nasty little cigars were sold individually in cases that disguised them almost as children's candy. Harry would often see young girls smoking them on street corners, laughing lightheartedly. Cigarillos were equal to about four cigarettes. He often longed to go up to them and slap the tiny cigar from their mouths, telling them that it wasn't "cute" or "fun". He wished he himself could stop, but found that only having about one every month was relaxing.
It was Draco who kept him on this strict one-a-month diet. The blonde had dabbled in smoking at school, but stopped shortly after graduating. He would insist Harry use spells to clear his lungs after every smoke, but it made Harry feel like he was cheating humanity. Muggle smokers weren't able to do that; protect themselves from cancer or Emphysema by simple magic. But he would allow Draco to do it, otherwise the blonde would perform it on him whilst he slept and Harry would wake in the middle of it to the sense of a bubbling burning in his air passages, breath wheezing as if clogged by acid. Not very pleasant in the least, and Draco would constantly remind him that he wouldn't have to do it if Harry would just *quit*.
Well, that wouldn't be happening any time soon. And besides, Harry was getting better and better at not inhaling completely, though Draco insisted on performing the spell anyway, just in case.
So he continued to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the deep forest around him and the cool water of the lake on his toes, and the raspberry flavored smoke curling through the air, trying to savor it, knowing that it bugged Draco like hell and it was a stretch for him to even allow Harry this one smoke.
Harry held the flavored smoke inside his mouth, letting it leak steadily from his nostrils and being especially careful not to swallow any of the foul air. Behind him, he heard Draco pad over the dock quietly, and smelled the alluring scent of hot chocolate. The slighter wizard set down the two steaming mugs and sat behind Harry, his long legs easily fitting around Harry's slender hips. Planting his chin on his partner's shoulder, Draco hugged him tightly and wrinkled his nose, saying distastefully, "That's disgusting, Harry. I have a chimney for a boyfriend. Don't even *think* about kissing me tonight." The former Gryffindor craned his neck around, breathing out the smoke and leaving a vile trail of it, watching the lazy spirals detachedly. Draco made a face and Harry pointed out, "I don't inhale, dearest. I wouldn't break my word to you for the world."
"Hmm," sighed Draco grudgingly, running his tongue all over the perfect shell of Harry's ear.
The small cigar was squashed into the ashtray by the nimble white fingers as Draco plucked it out of Harry's mouth, dousing the burn. Draco ran his hands over Harry's back and began kneading the tense muscle. Harry groaned blissfully, forgetting his little cigar, and leaned back into Draco's warm touch. Too bad the blonde didn't quite recall how it was Harry got started smoking almost six years before......
...... He had been wandering the halls aimlessly for what seemed like hours. And he had stupidly forgotten the Invisibility cloak resting at the bottom of his trunk to boot. But he couldn't go back, he didn't *want* to go back. Not just yet. Worst of all, he didn't know why. But he had been snippy to everyone the past few days since he had won the match against Ravenclaw. Hermione and Ron carried on as if nothing were the matter, only forcing smiles or backing off when he would lash out at them.
You don't stumble across great friends like them everyday, he hissed mentally, I'm being so stupid, treating them like that!
Pausing, Harry took in his surroundings. Ah, good. He was near the room that lay past the Astronomy Tower on the farthest side of the school. It was a room in which Harry would often go to think about things, his latest infatuation being a certain Slytherin. So he started walking faster to his room where he would sit on the sill of the huge rounded window facing the lake and swing his legs over the side into the open air. Who knew why the castle had such a dangerous window able to open like that, being as long as the Potions class room and on the seventh floor.
The door to the room was shut and Harry moved to use his wand to open it when he caught the faint scent of smoke. He hesitantly peered in through the keyhole and then fell back, his heart beating very fast.
No, please not now, he begged with his eyes closed. For beyond that door, sitting on his very sill was Draco Malfoy, basking in the silver glow of the moonlight, setting his hair blazing in icy white radiance. His slim frame was hunched over, legs hanging over the edge of the sill, shirtless and dressed only in baggy pj bottoms checkered green and gray. Not able to help himself, Harry peeked again, noting that one could see each and every wiry muscle defined in the slender form of his back. And hanging as a halo around the beautiful head was a small cloud of smoke, spiraling up and out the window into the crisp night air.
Squinting closer, Harry was able to see the long, thing cigarette hanging from the corner of Draco's mouth. The boy took a long drag, his back becoming straight for a small instant before exhaling and slumping back over into his relaxed position.
Suddenly, so fast that Harry didn't know what was what, Draco leapt to his feet and his wand shot something at the door, banging it open and sending Harry rolling backwards on his heels. Slowly the willowy teen stalked closer and closer to Harry, who scrambled to his feet and tried his best to look an innocent passerby. But his eyes dropped, he bit his lip, and his feet shuffled. He was the picture of guilt, even without Draco noticing the steady glow of his cheeks in the dim light of the halls.
"A little peeping Tom are we, Potter? Taken to stealing through the halls and spying on couples snogging? Jealous then, alone." He blew a sharp smelling cloud of smoke into Harry's face and the Gryffindor began coughing and wheezing, his eyes watering up. Draco laughed quietly, though it seemed to fill the whole hall and chill Harry's spine. Then they both heard something at the far end of the hall that sounded like voices. Harry felt a strong hand grip his arm and jerk him inside the room. The door was shut carefully behind him and Harry gripped his arm sorely and watched as Draco silently put his ear to the door, the cigarette still dangling precariously from his lips and trailing the wispy twines of smoke into the air.
The Prefects (for whom Harry guessed the voices came from) passed by without stopping and Harry let his breath go, not realizing he had been holding it. All he was aware of now was that Draco had fixed those emotionless orbs of ice onto his person. He felt like a glass figure the other boy could see straight through. After a few moments passed, Draco slipped past him and went back to the sill, sitting down on it so that one leg stuck over the edge into the night air while the other remained rooted to the floor inside. Harry swallowed nervously.
"Stop fidgeting and come over here," said Draco sharply. Harry snapped to attention and approached the window cautiously, shivering from the cold breeze filtering through. Draco looked at him searchingly for a moment, his eyes darting over Harry's face and pajamas (the over sized striped ones of Dudley's that he actually fit into.... er, lengthwise anyway). Then a feral smile whispered over his mouth, shifting the cigarette to stand straight up. Harry blushed and half wished he was back in bed, half wished that he had the courage to speak. But he didn't trust himself not to make a fool out of him front of so Godly a creature.
Wordlessly Draco pulled another cigarette from his side where they rested in a small silver case. He held it up in front of Harry's nose and said sarcastically, "Take it, Potter. It isn't a snake. It's just a fag." Then he chuckled again as coldly as before while Harry meekly took the cigarette and said, "Not that you would have any problem with that, Parseltongue that you are."
He took another long, slow drag, closing his eyes as he held it in before letting it out in waves from his mouth and nose. Harry thought the boy looked especially frightening just then, smoke seeping like polluted gray rivers from his face.
"Are you just going to stand there?" asked Draco, smiling in a way that did not reach his eyes. Harry just blinked at him, unsure of what to do. He didn't have a light.
Draco sighed with frustration and reached up to take Harry's chin in his velvet fingers. He yanked the dark head down painfully to eye level and took the cigarette from Harry's shaking finger to stick it between the boy's lips. Then he simply snapped his fingers, where a tiny flame of black appeared, dancing on the tip of his index finger. He held it up and caught it on the end of Harry's unlighted fag. His hand remained on Harry's chin while their eyes remained locked. As Harry tried to blink, Draco drew up his hand that had the flame and held it very close to Harry's face. The boy tried weakly to pull away, raising his hands, but Draco clenched his fist tightly and the light of the flame flickered into nothingness. A malicious smile replaced the first one and this time did seep into his eyes, only making them sharper. Harry felt like nothing but a fool. He wanted to leave badly, but knew he wouldn't even get two feet to the door.
"You're supposed to inhale, dear little Harry," purred Draco acidly. He turned back out to the view and blew rings of smoke into the air, puffing idly on the burning cigarette. Tapping the building ash on the end of it into the air and letting it be swept away, Draco looked sidelong at Harry and pulled him down onto the sill. Harry sat down hard with surprise and blinked his widened eyes, looking cross-eyed down at the smoking stick of paper and tobacco protruding from his mouth.
Then, completely out of the blue, Draco spun and punched Harry hard in the stomach. The poor boy gasped, sucking in his breath as he clutched his stomach. But instead, his mouth filled with smoke and he inhaled it deeply, purely on accident, and split into another, more violent coughing fit. Much to the malicious amusement of Draco it seemed, for as Harry fell weakly to the floor, Draco joined him on his knees, patting his back and laughing loudly, "There you are, Potter! Feels *good*, doesn't it then? I can tell it feels so well with you."
Harry slammed his back against the space of wall beneath the window sill, continuing to hack and heave, tears streaming down his flushing cheeks. Seconds later, to his further dismay, he fell a white hot pain in a spot on his stomach, only to see that the cigarette had burned through his shirt! Jumping up, he brushed it away and stared dismally down at the wide black spot over his shirt, where in the middle was a hole all the way through. From the floor, Draco reached over and picked up the fallen fag, popping it next to the other between his smiling lips. Then he looked up at Harry and remarked calmly, "Well, that went well for the first time, eh?"
The Slytherin next stood up and to the shock of Harry, yanked the Gryffindor's shirt roughly up over his head, depositing of it on the floor. He smirked at Harry's surprise and drew a finger from Harry's collar bone down the the red spot where he had been burned. Harry shivered from the cold touch over his skin and wondered whether he should make a run for it while he still could. But something else, something stronger than both his brain or his sense, told him to stay even as Draco stuck the cigarette back into his mouth.
Next Harry knew, he had been backed against the sill and pushed up onto it. He looked up at Draco with a frightened innocence, the fag looking almost foolish hanging there in his mouth.
Draco cocked his head to the side and looked at the other boy impassively. Then he abruptly hopped up into Harry's lap, straddling the Gryffindor. Harry gasped, nearly losing the cigarette, as well as his balance, and clung to Draco as he was rocked back dangerously close to the edge. But Draco only kept looking at him with the same expression and then inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, and motioning for Harry to do the same and hold it in. Not sure exactly what he was doing, Harry complied, and then copied as Draco placed his cigarette next to them. Then Draco took Harry's head in both his hands and held it tightly still as he came down and crushed their lips together with a tiny puff of escaped smoke. He exhaled and their combined breath clouded Harry's thoughts as he was swept away by the heated pressure of Draco surrounding him......
...... The massage stopped and Harry blinked his eyes open, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He had been laying all the way down on his stomach, Draco lithely straddling his hips from behind. But now the blonde was nowhere to be found and Harry looked longingly to his sad little cigar, all squished into the crystal ashtray.
"Fancy a swim?" called a sultry voice from over the side of the dock. Harry looked dully about, spotting a pile of clothes off to the side. He crawled over to the edge of the wood and peeked over to see Draco doing a beguiling backstroke, the water just dark enough so that Harry could only see to a few inches below Draco's naval following a thin line of light brown hair.
Sighing, Harry stood up and started to pull off his sweater. He paused momentarily as Draco whistled from bellow appreciatively. After shucking the old crimson sweater Mrs. Weasly had made him his seventh year, Harry felt a little playful and began to swing his hips and hum "You Give Me Fever" as his hands danced up and down, flashing his stomach and chest. Draco catcalled enthusiastically and feigned a dramatic faint down into the water as Harry's fly unzipped.
When Draco resurfaced again, he was welcomed back into the air by the ever so pleasurable sight of a nude Harry Potter daintily testing the water with a foot. The raven haired man squealed and jumped away as if burned. "It's bloody cold," he shrieked plaintively, glaring at Draco. The blonde gawked at him, then laughed uproariously at the sour look on his love's face.
"A little cold water will be good for you, lad!" He reached up, bubbling gleefully, towards Harry's foot, who backed a few more steps away, shaking his head.
"You're mad. I'll shrink away to nothing in there!"
"Why would cold water do that - ah, now I understand." Draco smirked and beckoned Harry to come in. "I'll warm you back up, darling," he promised, lids half down covering the tempting gaze. Harry sat there a moment, staring at him. Then, with a wild cry, ran and took a head first plunge into the dark depths of the lake. Draco giggled and looked around for Harry. Then he squeaked and came half up out of the water, slapping his hand over his bum. Next to him, Harry's head appeared and Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh, so now we're bum pinching then. Eh?"
Harry gasped and tried to swim for dear life as Draco closed in on him, laughing madly, "You don't have chance, Potter! You *or* that pinchable bum!"
A/N: There you go then, lovies. And I did get the names of Harry's favorite cigars wrong. But the piles of swahooli at the tabacco store wouldn't let me see the real ones! *rolls eyes* Something about me being only fourteen and demanding cigars in a near hysterical voice and babbling that I needed them for a story with bummage. *snickers* They just about kicked poor old Villan out! *laughs* Now, this chappie wasn't TOO dark, right? *pouts* Come on, people, have some faith! Happiness will positively FILL the other pages! *looks shifty* And you should be happy, for I had bums in this chappie. Always must I have a bit of bummage. Mah! ^_^ Au revoir!
~*Villain*~
A/N: THANX TO chrisseee667: *giggles* Yes, they are just the cutest thing, eh? Black Night: *blush* Aw, it really isn't me, it's my fabu musies Tyrone and Antuan who are working on this one! Chireel: *sigh* You're soooo lucky mum and dad are gone for you!! Lady Rillen: *bows* I thank thee, milady! SunShine*Malfoy: Whee! I deffinitely will! ^_^ Green-and-Silver: *pouts* I don't have a Yahoo acount, but it did sound lovely! Thank you anyway for the offer!
Chapter Three: Serious Bummage
He sat out on the edge of the rickety old dock, his long legs dangling over the side, toes brushing lightly the surface of the crystal glass water. Tiny ripples from his skin flashed over the water, glittering in the evening light. His jeans were clumsily rolled up to his knees, socks lying in his shoes beside him. It was peaceful and beautiful out in the semidarkness. The only thing disrupting the perfection of the evening being the slim trail of smoke twining up from his lips barely parted lips.
They were called Cigarillos, and were Harry's favorite. Whenever he would go get one for his monthly smoke, little children (girls mostly) would be poking at them and talking about how good they smelled and wondering what they would taste like. For these nasty little cigars were sold individually in cases that disguised them almost as children's candy. Harry would often see young girls smoking them on street corners, laughing lightheartedly. Cigarillos were equal to about four cigarettes. He often longed to go up to them and slap the tiny cigar from their mouths, telling them that it wasn't "cute" or "fun". He wished he himself could stop, but found that only having about one every month was relaxing.
It was Draco who kept him on this strict one-a-month diet. The blonde had dabbled in smoking at school, but stopped shortly after graduating. He would insist Harry use spells to clear his lungs after every smoke, but it made Harry feel like he was cheating humanity. Muggle smokers weren't able to do that; protect themselves from cancer or Emphysema by simple magic. But he would allow Draco to do it, otherwise the blonde would perform it on him whilst he slept and Harry would wake in the middle of it to the sense of a bubbling burning in his air passages, breath wheezing as if clogged by acid. Not very pleasant in the least, and Draco would constantly remind him that he wouldn't have to do it if Harry would just *quit*.
Well, that wouldn't be happening any time soon. And besides, Harry was getting better and better at not inhaling completely, though Draco insisted on performing the spell anyway, just in case.
So he continued to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the deep forest around him and the cool water of the lake on his toes, and the raspberry flavored smoke curling through the air, trying to savor it, knowing that it bugged Draco like hell and it was a stretch for him to even allow Harry this one smoke.
Harry held the flavored smoke inside his mouth, letting it leak steadily from his nostrils and being especially careful not to swallow any of the foul air. Behind him, he heard Draco pad over the dock quietly, and smelled the alluring scent of hot chocolate. The slighter wizard set down the two steaming mugs and sat behind Harry, his long legs easily fitting around Harry's slender hips. Planting his chin on his partner's shoulder, Draco hugged him tightly and wrinkled his nose, saying distastefully, "That's disgusting, Harry. I have a chimney for a boyfriend. Don't even *think* about kissing me tonight." The former Gryffindor craned his neck around, breathing out the smoke and leaving a vile trail of it, watching the lazy spirals detachedly. Draco made a face and Harry pointed out, "I don't inhale, dearest. I wouldn't break my word to you for the world."
"Hmm," sighed Draco grudgingly, running his tongue all over the perfect shell of Harry's ear.
The small cigar was squashed into the ashtray by the nimble white fingers as Draco plucked it out of Harry's mouth, dousing the burn. Draco ran his hands over Harry's back and began kneading the tense muscle. Harry groaned blissfully, forgetting his little cigar, and leaned back into Draco's warm touch. Too bad the blonde didn't quite recall how it was Harry got started smoking almost six years before......
...... He had been wandering the halls aimlessly for what seemed like hours. And he had stupidly forgotten the Invisibility cloak resting at the bottom of his trunk to boot. But he couldn't go back, he didn't *want* to go back. Not just yet. Worst of all, he didn't know why. But he had been snippy to everyone the past few days since he had won the match against Ravenclaw. Hermione and Ron carried on as if nothing were the matter, only forcing smiles or backing off when he would lash out at them.
You don't stumble across great friends like them everyday, he hissed mentally, I'm being so stupid, treating them like that!
Pausing, Harry took in his surroundings. Ah, good. He was near the room that lay past the Astronomy Tower on the farthest side of the school. It was a room in which Harry would often go to think about things, his latest infatuation being a certain Slytherin. So he started walking faster to his room where he would sit on the sill of the huge rounded window facing the lake and swing his legs over the side into the open air. Who knew why the castle had such a dangerous window able to open like that, being as long as the Potions class room and on the seventh floor.
The door to the room was shut and Harry moved to use his wand to open it when he caught the faint scent of smoke. He hesitantly peered in through the keyhole and then fell back, his heart beating very fast.
No, please not now, he begged with his eyes closed. For beyond that door, sitting on his very sill was Draco Malfoy, basking in the silver glow of the moonlight, setting his hair blazing in icy white radiance. His slim frame was hunched over, legs hanging over the edge of the sill, shirtless and dressed only in baggy pj bottoms checkered green and gray. Not able to help himself, Harry peeked again, noting that one could see each and every wiry muscle defined in the slender form of his back. And hanging as a halo around the beautiful head was a small cloud of smoke, spiraling up and out the window into the crisp night air.
Squinting closer, Harry was able to see the long, thing cigarette hanging from the corner of Draco's mouth. The boy took a long drag, his back becoming straight for a small instant before exhaling and slumping back over into his relaxed position.
Suddenly, so fast that Harry didn't know what was what, Draco leapt to his feet and his wand shot something at the door, banging it open and sending Harry rolling backwards on his heels. Slowly the willowy teen stalked closer and closer to Harry, who scrambled to his feet and tried his best to look an innocent passerby. But his eyes dropped, he bit his lip, and his feet shuffled. He was the picture of guilt, even without Draco noticing the steady glow of his cheeks in the dim light of the halls.
"A little peeping Tom are we, Potter? Taken to stealing through the halls and spying on couples snogging? Jealous then, alone." He blew a sharp smelling cloud of smoke into Harry's face and the Gryffindor began coughing and wheezing, his eyes watering up. Draco laughed quietly, though it seemed to fill the whole hall and chill Harry's spine. Then they both heard something at the far end of the hall that sounded like voices. Harry felt a strong hand grip his arm and jerk him inside the room. The door was shut carefully behind him and Harry gripped his arm sorely and watched as Draco silently put his ear to the door, the cigarette still dangling precariously from his lips and trailing the wispy twines of smoke into the air.
The Prefects (for whom Harry guessed the voices came from) passed by without stopping and Harry let his breath go, not realizing he had been holding it. All he was aware of now was that Draco had fixed those emotionless orbs of ice onto his person. He felt like a glass figure the other boy could see straight through. After a few moments passed, Draco slipped past him and went back to the sill, sitting down on it so that one leg stuck over the edge into the night air while the other remained rooted to the floor inside. Harry swallowed nervously.
"Stop fidgeting and come over here," said Draco sharply. Harry snapped to attention and approached the window cautiously, shivering from the cold breeze filtering through. Draco looked at him searchingly for a moment, his eyes darting over Harry's face and pajamas (the over sized striped ones of Dudley's that he actually fit into.... er, lengthwise anyway). Then a feral smile whispered over his mouth, shifting the cigarette to stand straight up. Harry blushed and half wished he was back in bed, half wished that he had the courage to speak. But he didn't trust himself not to make a fool out of him front of so Godly a creature.
Wordlessly Draco pulled another cigarette from his side where they rested in a small silver case. He held it up in front of Harry's nose and said sarcastically, "Take it, Potter. It isn't a snake. It's just a fag." Then he chuckled again as coldly as before while Harry meekly took the cigarette and said, "Not that you would have any problem with that, Parseltongue that you are."
He took another long, slow drag, closing his eyes as he held it in before letting it out in waves from his mouth and nose. Harry thought the boy looked especially frightening just then, smoke seeping like polluted gray rivers from his face.
"Are you just going to stand there?" asked Draco, smiling in a way that did not reach his eyes. Harry just blinked at him, unsure of what to do. He didn't have a light.
Draco sighed with frustration and reached up to take Harry's chin in his velvet fingers. He yanked the dark head down painfully to eye level and took the cigarette from Harry's shaking finger to stick it between the boy's lips. Then he simply snapped his fingers, where a tiny flame of black appeared, dancing on the tip of his index finger. He held it up and caught it on the end of Harry's unlighted fag. His hand remained on Harry's chin while their eyes remained locked. As Harry tried to blink, Draco drew up his hand that had the flame and held it very close to Harry's face. The boy tried weakly to pull away, raising his hands, but Draco clenched his fist tightly and the light of the flame flickered into nothingness. A malicious smile replaced the first one and this time did seep into his eyes, only making them sharper. Harry felt like nothing but a fool. He wanted to leave badly, but knew he wouldn't even get two feet to the door.
"You're supposed to inhale, dear little Harry," purred Draco acidly. He turned back out to the view and blew rings of smoke into the air, puffing idly on the burning cigarette. Tapping the building ash on the end of it into the air and letting it be swept away, Draco looked sidelong at Harry and pulled him down onto the sill. Harry sat down hard with surprise and blinked his widened eyes, looking cross-eyed down at the smoking stick of paper and tobacco protruding from his mouth.
Then, completely out of the blue, Draco spun and punched Harry hard in the stomach. The poor boy gasped, sucking in his breath as he clutched his stomach. But instead, his mouth filled with smoke and he inhaled it deeply, purely on accident, and split into another, more violent coughing fit. Much to the malicious amusement of Draco it seemed, for as Harry fell weakly to the floor, Draco joined him on his knees, patting his back and laughing loudly, "There you are, Potter! Feels *good*, doesn't it then? I can tell it feels so well with you."
Harry slammed his back against the space of wall beneath the window sill, continuing to hack and heave, tears streaming down his flushing cheeks. Seconds later, to his further dismay, he fell a white hot pain in a spot on his stomach, only to see that the cigarette had burned through his shirt! Jumping up, he brushed it away and stared dismally down at the wide black spot over his shirt, where in the middle was a hole all the way through. From the floor, Draco reached over and picked up the fallen fag, popping it next to the other between his smiling lips. Then he looked up at Harry and remarked calmly, "Well, that went well for the first time, eh?"
The Slytherin next stood up and to the shock of Harry, yanked the Gryffindor's shirt roughly up over his head, depositing of it on the floor. He smirked at Harry's surprise and drew a finger from Harry's collar bone down the the red spot where he had been burned. Harry shivered from the cold touch over his skin and wondered whether he should make a run for it while he still could. But something else, something stronger than both his brain or his sense, told him to stay even as Draco stuck the cigarette back into his mouth.
Next Harry knew, he had been backed against the sill and pushed up onto it. He looked up at Draco with a frightened innocence, the fag looking almost foolish hanging there in his mouth.
Draco cocked his head to the side and looked at the other boy impassively. Then he abruptly hopped up into Harry's lap, straddling the Gryffindor. Harry gasped, nearly losing the cigarette, as well as his balance, and clung to Draco as he was rocked back dangerously close to the edge. But Draco only kept looking at him with the same expression and then inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, and motioning for Harry to do the same and hold it in. Not sure exactly what he was doing, Harry complied, and then copied as Draco placed his cigarette next to them. Then Draco took Harry's head in both his hands and held it tightly still as he came down and crushed their lips together with a tiny puff of escaped smoke. He exhaled and their combined breath clouded Harry's thoughts as he was swept away by the heated pressure of Draco surrounding him......
...... The massage stopped and Harry blinked his eyes open, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He had been laying all the way down on his stomach, Draco lithely straddling his hips from behind. But now the blonde was nowhere to be found and Harry looked longingly to his sad little cigar, all squished into the crystal ashtray.
"Fancy a swim?" called a sultry voice from over the side of the dock. Harry looked dully about, spotting a pile of clothes off to the side. He crawled over to the edge of the wood and peeked over to see Draco doing a beguiling backstroke, the water just dark enough so that Harry could only see to a few inches below Draco's naval following a thin line of light brown hair.
Sighing, Harry stood up and started to pull off his sweater. He paused momentarily as Draco whistled from bellow appreciatively. After shucking the old crimson sweater Mrs. Weasly had made him his seventh year, Harry felt a little playful and began to swing his hips and hum "You Give Me Fever" as his hands danced up and down, flashing his stomach and chest. Draco catcalled enthusiastically and feigned a dramatic faint down into the water as Harry's fly unzipped.
When Draco resurfaced again, he was welcomed back into the air by the ever so pleasurable sight of a nude Harry Potter daintily testing the water with a foot. The raven haired man squealed and jumped away as if burned. "It's bloody cold," he shrieked plaintively, glaring at Draco. The blonde gawked at him, then laughed uproariously at the sour look on his love's face.
"A little cold water will be good for you, lad!" He reached up, bubbling gleefully, towards Harry's foot, who backed a few more steps away, shaking his head.
"You're mad. I'll shrink away to nothing in there!"
"Why would cold water do that - ah, now I understand." Draco smirked and beckoned Harry to come in. "I'll warm you back up, darling," he promised, lids half down covering the tempting gaze. Harry sat there a moment, staring at him. Then, with a wild cry, ran and took a head first plunge into the dark depths of the lake. Draco giggled and looked around for Harry. Then he squeaked and came half up out of the water, slapping his hand over his bum. Next to him, Harry's head appeared and Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh, so now we're bum pinching then. Eh?"
Harry gasped and tried to swim for dear life as Draco closed in on him, laughing madly, "You don't have chance, Potter! You *or* that pinchable bum!"
A/N: There you go then, lovies. And I did get the names of Harry's favorite cigars wrong. But the piles of swahooli at the tabacco store wouldn't let me see the real ones! *rolls eyes* Something about me being only fourteen and demanding cigars in a near hysterical voice and babbling that I needed them for a story with bummage. *snickers* They just about kicked poor old Villan out! *laughs* Now, this chappie wasn't TOO dark, right? *pouts* Come on, people, have some faith! Happiness will positively FILL the other pages! *looks shifty* And you should be happy, for I had bums in this chappie. Always must I have a bit of bummage. Mah! ^_^ Au revoir!
~*Villain*~