A/N: THANX TO...
**DragonMage: Thank you! He is just a cashew, isn't he?
**AshFarley: *giggles*
**pastshadows: ^_^
**Remmy: Yeah, that part seems to be better...
**Fanny Chan: You think I need MORE?! *_~
**LB: *waves* ;^P
**lunaledafe: Hee, tanku.
**La Princesse D'or: Hey, dollface!
**TheUnknownJedi: *blush* Aw, ya shouldn't waste your space on me!
**Darke Angel: Aye aye, cap'n! Katie: Tay. ^___^
~*~
Chapter Seven: Kiss and Tell
"Look Draco, Hermione wrote. Ayserne threw up for the first time yesterday! How exciting!"
"Well, I *was* ravenously hungry anyway." Draco shoved his plate away irritably and pouted, jutting out his lower and lip and hunching down into himself, arms crossed. Harry noticed and rolled his eyes, sending a biscuit careening into Draco's temple. The blonde squawked and flipped out of the chair.
"Lighten up!" he laughed as Draco growled, batting at his hair to rid the fine silky strands of any remaining crumbs. Harry wrinkled his nose at something in the letter and the blonde sighed loudly, gathering his partner's attention. "I have to be at work early today, you know. Sherry had that *thing* to talk to me about. I'm guessing it's a raise - as long as *she* gets to raise something for herself," Draco groaned miserably, "The first thing I told those people was that I was gay! Maybe I should dig up that cheesy one piece suit, then nothing will be getting *raised*....."
Harry's face fell. He set down the letter from Hermione and slid into a chair beside Draco. "I forgot," he said quietly, "When do you leave?" Draco glanced sidelong at his partner and hid a smile. The man looked positively needy, and Draco could easily admit that it made him feel a touch better to have Harry forget everything accept for *him* for a few moments.
"Around twelve or so. I need to take a shower and get dressed, then I'm gone until six." His sly little smile widened when Harry worried his lower lip, sucking on it. It was clear the man didn't want Draco to go to work, but Draco was sick of all this talk of the baby, and bored with nothing to do during the day. So Draco had taken on a job to pass the time. He was quite used to times like these, going through intervals without work, then yearning for some point in waking up early on a Monday. The only thing he didn't like about his job was that the manager's (Sherry, a fifty something year old) hands somehow always found there way to his backside.
"No clinging slacks today...." he murmured when pushing aside suit after suit a half an hour later. He saw Harry slink into the bedroom out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. "It's not the end of the world, you know," he said, maybe a little harsher than he would have liked. Though Harry only looked hurt momentarily before smoothing it over with a casual look while inspecting his fingernails.
"I'm sorry," Harry sighed, trying to sound nonchalant, "It's just... we've always had jobs together. Neither of us has really been left alone at home before." Now he sounded really stung. Draco turned around, irritation dissipating into a warm feeling of protectiveness for the dejected looking man, made even more so by his unruly hair and thick rimmed glasses fixed with tape (he always had them that way, no matter what spells Draco had to offer).
"I'll be sure to make it up to you later," Draco teased, throwing his arms around Harry's neck and suckling the flushed pink earlobe.
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that and quit acting so rejected! You could go visit Ayserne or something, the kid likes you. She doesn't burp nearly as much when I'm around her. I swear she has it in for me."
"That's only because you call her 'Pickle'. Really, Draco."
"She resembles a pickle, it's not my fault! Though I still don't see why they didn't name the mini Weasly after me. Think about it: Dracona Draco Malfoya Weasly. Well, cut off the 'Weasly' part and I say that's a winning name."
"Dracona? Malfoya?"
The blonde became suddenly infatuated with the grandfather clock. "Oh! Would you look at the time? Harry darling, I'm going to be late! Sherry will have an excuse to spank me after all." He gave Harry a sly grin and cut off any protest from the other man with a captivating kiss which Harry melted into, sighing as Draco's slender hands traveled over his back, delving into curves of wiry muscle. He whimpered slightly when Draco drew away and licked along his jaw line.
"Miss me today," Harry breathed against Draco's mouth with a melancholy tone lacing his wispy voice. He lightly fingered Draco's lips, his body already longing for the blonde's touch.
"I already do," Draco whispered back, gently knocking his forehead against Harry's. He drew away and smiled beautifully at his love, lightly brushing his index finger over Harry's jagged scar, lips quirking as the raven haired man gave a small moan, quivering lids falling to cover the turning spring green eyes.
Harry hugged himself tightly as Draco shrugged on his cloak, calling once over his shoulder before he Disapparated, "Anyway, it's a damn better name than Harriet Harry Potterena anyway!"
Harry frowned at the empty space where Draco had just stood.
"Bye."
The house seemed suddenly empty and cold. A shudder passed through the walls as the grandfather clock groaned and hummed the twelve o'clock chimes. Again and again the pendulum swung and the ringing stabbed through the silence. Growing annoyed, Harry walked over and open the small glass door, reaching inside the clock to gently grab hold the pendulum and stop the swinging for seven more turns. Then he let go and made his way to the kitchen to clean up plates, scratching his head and yawning, wondering if it was worth it to even take a shower that day since no one but himself would be smelling anything.
As he walked toward the bathroom with his towel and robe as slow and melancholy as a funeral procession, he glanced up at the mantle and paused, depression and loneliness already sweeping over him. Gently he fingered the glass case holding a single snow white feather that had belonged to Hedwig. It glimmered in the airy afternoon light and Harry found tears prickling his eyes. Angrily, he rubbed them away and busied himself in the shower. It would wake him up, maybe today would be good for some housework begging to be done-
Three hours later and plenty of cold water since the hot had run out fifteen minutes into his shower, Harry stumbled out of the bathroom, even more depressed than before.
I'm being stupid, he chided himself. You always tend to fret - and talk to yourself - when Draco's away. And your fingers are all wrinkly, dammit.
"But he's my other half," he argued, throwing himself on the couch dejectedly. When he closed his eyes in the lonely silence, a sad smile kissed his mouth. "'What To Do When One Is Bored'. Why the hell don't people write *useful* books anymore!" Harry rolled onto his side, one arm flopping over to drag limp fingers on the floor. Draco had been gone now for what seemed to be a thousand stubborn eternity's. Harry was going out of his mind. Why did Draco feel the need to get a job anyway? They had money, they had each other. That was all either needed!
Maybe he's getting sick of me, Harry groaned mentally, wringing his wrists. But no, that wouldn't happen. They'd been through so much together, such hard times. Choices had been forced on the both of them, along with responsibilities and great weight. Through that they had come through and Harry loved Draco more than words could ever describe.....
..... A deadly quiet voice broke through the night, stinging right next to his ear, "You think I enjoy to be left waiting like that, Potter?"
He had known he would have to face Draco sometime. Practice had been running late, and along with helping Fred get to the infirmary - Harry hadn't made it to the abandoned classroom in time. Added to that, he received a detention from Snape for messing up the hallway with his muddy robes and shoes. Luckily McGonnagal had been there too, one of the only times Harry was glad she was around when he was in trouble. She held the Potions Master back from deducting even *more* points.
Snape had sneered at Harry over McGonnagal's shoulder as the woman puffed up like a frog. "This school is dirty enough!" she roared, "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but until you get it that the showers in the bathrooms are for actual use, I'm going to have to take an action upon your messy behavior. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Snape rubbed his hands together with glee and pushed his luck. "Are you sure you don't mean *thirty* points? This *is* such a big spot of mud, trailing all the way-"
"Don't push it, Severus."
Now Harry was kneeling down in mud and a bed of soggy lichen, twining his hands tightly in the slimy fungus and face growing hot as Draco continued to assault him with hissing, angry words that attacked everything from himself to his dead parents. Before he could think to defend himself and explain (not that that *ever* really worked), Draco had suddenly shoved him and Harry found himself staring rather dazedly up at Draco from the wet ground. The Slytherin's mouth twisted into a leering smirk. Shivers racked Harry's spine, and liquid seeped through the threads of his light cloak and bit at his skin. But none of this seemed to concern him. What did indeed concern him was the calmly livid blonde watching him with a face like an ivory mask. Harry carefully picked his glasses up from a puddle and looked at them dismally. He went to put them back on his nose when a rigid elfin hand whipped out and snatched them from his fingers, throwing them into a bush.
"Ah!" Harry lunged after them, but the same rigid hand closed around the collar of his shirt and he was yanked back into a laying down position, now experiencing a slight anger building towards the boy who regarded him as if he were nothing but a worn old toy. The only thing he could see clearly in the slightly out of focus face were the sharp eyes, now burning.
Wiping the mud from his face and dragging himself away, Harry glared at Draco angrily, and moved to say - yell - scream something at the icy Slytherin.
Quicker and smoother than a viper, Draco swept down, his knees barely brushing the ground, and pressed a finger to Harry's lips. The digit was ice cold and Harry cringed away from it, his eyes going up to Draco's, and blinking away the growing rapidity of rain droplets dripping through the leaves on the trees. They streamed down his face and dripped from the tendrils of black. His face was stark white in the half light, mouth a bright and angry red from how long he had been worrying his lips. His scar stood out as a crooked black ink mark on his forehead, eyes a sparkling and turbid green as a jungle pool.
Draco watched him silently and Harry remembered what he had thought at the Quidditch match when this whole affair had started. No one ever takes advantage of Draco Malfoy. No one ever gets the better of the Slytherin. And suddenly Harry felt fear. He felt fear of the boy in front of him, fear of the lightning flashing above and striking up the white tendrils of fire in Draco's eyes, fear of how the halo of silver crackled in the dying light, fear of the feelings in turmoil within him. Fear of the failure of his own voice resisting the need to make some sort of sound. Fear of the fact Draco was so close to him and touching him, peeling back his cloak in silence, never their eyes breaking, never breaking the hold Harry was in, nor the fear that clung to his skin inside the tiny crystalline droplets of rain.
The coming night bit at the shrinking flesh of Harry's back as he was lowered down, bare chested, onto his cloak. His eyes ran with rain and tears. Draco pushed his head to the side and held his chin, lowering his quivering lips to gently caress the arched white neck, and toy with the erected buds of dark red on Harry's shuddering chest. Fingers, smooth but cruel, scraped over his stomach and at the waistband of his jeans. Cold grew more intense and a gasp cut the forest rain like a dagger through flesh. Green eyes widened fleetingly in panic as his body screamed in the agony of the heart and the brain. Captivating lips trailed down his steaming body to gently play over soft skin and a red tongue slipped from between the searching lips to delve beneath skin and quaking nerves.
This time a cry echoed in the trees. Eyes flashed among the branches as Harry cried out again, throwing his head side to side and his face constricting in a painful pleasure. The whole time, storming, icy eyes watched him, watched the boy fall under the untamable spell and watch as his vulnerable chest shook and legs quavered. Lips parted as lids rose to unveil misty eyes. Words shaped upon the lips and gray eyes narrowed as a soft, hesitant hand pushed his face out from the steam rolling off of fevered skin.
Draco stared in a mix of burning shock and blazing anger. Harry sat up and looked back at him, his flushed face clearly visible in the night. Then the words, dropping from his lips as vile poison, struck Draco deep inside as nothing he had ever encountered before.
"I - I can't keep doing this. You don't - own me, Draco."
Anger as nothing the Slytherin ever experienced pumped through his veins and Harry's gasping cry brought a look of bitter mirth into his eyes as he forcibly dragged the Gryffindor's head over to the side so that half the delicate face was submerged in moist lichen. Harry's hands tore at his arm and scratched, but Draco ignored it, putting his mouth right next to Harry's ear and hissing very quietly, "The hell I don't, Potter." Then he jerked Harry up again and crushed their lips together with enough force to send both of them to the ground, Draco pinning Harry's wrists above his head and roughly shoving his knee between stark white thighs.
Tongues twined and fought, teeth crowded and tugged, lips twisted and struggled to form words. Fingers tangled in ebony locks, tearing at them with a combination of anger and passion. Moans going to cover the whimpers and the muffled pleas. He had him flat on the ground again, pressing into him, now lying struggling in the mud. Bodies smacking together with dull thuds, blood drawn from writhing body, screaming eyes.
Harry threw his head to the side and shoved with all his might, kicking at the Slytherin. Draco raised a hand and brought in down with a crack echoed by lightning and Harry drew still. Breathing hard, chest heaving, Harry stared at Draco in horror, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth and his nose, blending with the fleeting rain water. His lips were swollen, purple, and bruised. Skin was rubbed raw. His scar stood out as some sort of livid reminder to Draco of who this was. Who this was *supposed* to be to him. At that moment he hated it. He hated it with a passion so deep that the blood beneath his nails felt not enough. The frantic writhing of the lithe body beneath him in fright shot adrenaline through his veins. He tilted his head down at Harry and swallowed up his mouth for another hot kiss. A growl reverberated deep in his throat when the lips were ripped from his and he was presented with the sharp jaw line of Harry's face. The Gryffindor stared hard at the ground.
"You think you can stand me up? You think you can turn away?" Draco dragged the face back to him, glaring fiercely back into the smoldering emerald flames. "No, Potter. You've fallen in too deep for that." He ground his hips into Harry and the boy arched into him, his face contorting, lips twisting into a snarl of desperate fear.
"Then do it. Just do it now, I can't stop you. Take me like you have so many times before," Harry spat, shame leaking into his eyes. "And I've let you. I've let you put your dirty hands all over me. And you know why, Malfoy? I actually thought after all these months that I loved you. But you used me. You've *been* using me! Ever since that first kiss, you've toyed with me. I should have known! And now look at you. But what can I do? Go ahead, force me! You took me by force the first time, didn't you? And you loved it."
Draco leaned back, perched atop Harry's hips, a mocking smile playing over his lips. In the half moonlight, with his sharp face shadowed and contorted, he looked like the bloody Devil himself.
"No, Potter. I don't think I will. You're nothing to me. Just a worthless romantic. But you wait and see. You can't live without me; Without me in you, around you, consuming you. You're not amusing anymore, Potter. You've grown dull and boring. Go back to your mudblood bint and your rat packing Weasel. They've probably missed you. More than I ever will."
"Get off of me."
"Such a temper for someone in your position. No one tells me what to do." The hand rose again and Harry clenched his teeth, eyes burning into the twin slits of ice. He flinched when cold fingers touched his cheek and the mouth once again pressed to his, unreasoning. They sat like that while the rain pounded onto them with a deadly force of chilling cold. Green slipped shut to avoid the gray. Draco rose off of Harry, throwing him a nasty smirk over his shoulder as he strolled away casually, holding their half filled bag of lichen they were meant to harvest for Hagrid over his shoulder. "See you around, Potter."
And he was gone.
~*~
When he was turning a corner, Harry nearly ran into Ron and Hermione, who were in a heated argument over whether chocolate frogs were better than every flavored beans.
"Hermione, what about the *mystery*!"
"Tell me that when you get a dung flavored bean. Then you'll be singing a different tune!"
"How can you - Harry! Just in time, we need to invent some more ways to die, quick! Our Divination homework is due tomorrow instead of Friday." The other two Gryffindors started back towards the House, and Harry couldn't help but follow. Inside, he sat lazily spread out in an armchair as Ron checked off ways that they would be dying. As he covered all the scenarios when a Unicorn could gore them, he brightened and sang happily, "I heard Malfoy fell off his broom, if you can believe it! He's been in a real fowl mood lately. And it couldn't be funnier."
"Finding joy in other's suffering. Honestly!" Hermione glared at her boyfriend waspishly.
Ron shot her a dopey grin. "But Mione, it's *Malfoy*!"
"And...?"
"Well, you *did* say person. And we know that just isn't possible concerning him."
"Go get gored by a unicorn," she snapped.
"Which way? Personally, I would rather die in a Ronald Kabob."
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. Ron leaned back to give her a peck on the cheek and snap her book shut obnoxiously, making her lose her place. Squawking at him, she through her worn copy of Hogwarts: A History at his head.
Harry watched them, chuckling over his Potions homework. He found that he loved spending time with them again. They both had accepted his sudden occupancy of the Great Hall and the common room without words, sharing relieved glances with each other at the thought that their Harry was back.
The three of them swapped stories of their early childhood, finally letting Hermione retire to her own room after the story of Harry setting the Python on Dudley for the seventeenth time.
"Goodnight, Hermione!"
"Get a good rest, Harry."
Ron kissed her softly on her forehead, ignoring the catcalls and inappropriate noises issuing from both Seamus and Dean's beds. The bushy brunette waved them all goodnight and ducked out the door. For another half an hour Ron ranted about her, to the dismay of an overtired, high-strung Neville, and a completely unromantic Seamus and Dean. Harry was the only one who listened, with only half an ear as he wrote to Sirius and Remus. All he gathered from Ron's bantering was that Hermione was nothing short of a Goddess. As he drifted into sleep, he smiled to himself and wondered about the appealing sixth year in Hufflepuff that kept shooting him glances at dinner.
The next morning, Harry awoke to find Ron's bed completely empty. Seamus was up brushing his teeth and informed Harry, while managing to spray paste on his glasses, that Ron had snuck out about three that morning when receiving a letter from Hermione.
"To meet in the *Tower*," Seamus cooed at Dean, who flicked water back at him. Harry thanked Seamus for the information and rushed down the steps and to the Great Hall with a certain jump in his step.
That certain jump missed the ground and crumpled in a heap when Harry entered the corridor right outside the Great Hall. He had first heard their voices, and now saw them. Ron looked in a rage, his arms thrown up, mouth wide and yelling. Hermione stood across from him, screaming with tears running down her face. Panicked, Harry started to run, and their words came into focus.
"....mudblood not good enough for you!? Did all those *sensible* things he said about dirty blood finally touch that pure blooded sensitive spot, Ron? Or did you just *accidentally* let Malfoy pushed you up against a wall and-"
"I TOLD YOU, I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS HIM WHO SENT ME THE NOTE! IT SAID IT WAS FROM YOU!"
"I'd think after seven years of friendship that you would be able to tell my handwriting, Ron! But I guess you don't know me that well."
"What is there to know!?" Ron bellowed, "All there is about *you*, Hermione, are books!"
Hermione staggered a step or two backward, her eyes streaming. But the anger and betrayal in her face didn't budge. With a sob, she marched up to the flushed redhead and slapped him firmly on the cheek, snapping his head to the side. He made a grab for her wrist, but she had already fled down the hall and disappeared. As if out of nowhere, Lavender and Parvati materialized from the walls and followed her, twittering like two old birds.
Harry approached Ron slowly, who stood fixed on the spot, staring slack jawed after Hermione, hand resting as if unbelieving against the livid red mark on his cheek. He looked at Harry, a little shell shocked, and mumbled, "Didn't mean to say that."
"What happened," demanded Harry quietly, his heart already pounding in his chest since the mention of Draco.
"I got a letter this morning. It was signed by Hermione, to meet her at the Astronomy Tower. Yeah, it was a little unlike her, but-"
"What *happened*? Ron, tell me."
"I swear Harry, you know I'm not - I'd never-"
"What did Malfoy do?" said Harry urgently.
"He - I got to the tower and no one was there. I thought to wait for Hermione, when all of a sudden, I was slammed up against the wall and someone was kissing me. Then I saw Hermione and - it was Malfoy. Harry, Malfoy shoved me up against the wall just as Hermione came up the steps. She said - she *yelled* that she got a note from *me*. But - look, I even have the letter to prove it!"
He held up a shaking piece of paper that rustled in the silence of the hall.
"Did he hurt you?" Harry's voice was quiet, thick. There was a heavy sinking in his stomach.
"No, he didn't. Harry, when Hermione left, Malfoy pushed me away like it was *me* who'd jumped on *him*. I was bloody well shook up and my head really hurt. Malfoy, the bastard, he just gave me this smile and I swear Harry, I could've killed him."
Ron's eyes had wandered and Harry knew his friend was barely paying attention to anything. At the lanky redhead's feet Harry noticed a glinting circular object and knelt down to pick it up. His brow furrowed with worry, for it was Ron's promise ring to Hermione. He walked his friend to the Hall and convinced him to eat something, leaving him in the hands of Seamus and Dean.
Then he went searching for Draco.
~*~
"I doubt arguing with a wall will get you anywhere, Potter," Draco sneered, causing Harry to jump and whirl, glaring hotly at the smug blonde leaning causally up against a smooth desk and causally appraising a grotesque pewter carving of a dying dragon. "And anyway, the Slytherin entranceway lies beyond the next hall." He waved to a place behind him and shook himself, a look of boredom fixed almost painfully exact on his face. Harry pursed his lips, turning away and staring fixedly at his shaking hand still resting upon the cold stone, fingers slightly curled.
As was the Slytherin's habit, he seemed to materialize close to Harry's shoulder, close enough that Harry could feel his breath stir the hair at his temple. Forcing his eyes upwards, Harry glared at Draco with as much anger as he could muster, which nearly faltered altogether beneath the blonde's cool scrutinizing gaze. Suddenly his great plan to blow up at the boy seemed petty and pointless. It took all his restraint not to either run or walk away.
"Restraint, plus passion, equals tension."
Harry stared wordlessly.
"And you do look *awfully* tense, Potter," Draco purred, moving behind Harry and running his hands over the curve of his rigid spine. The Gryffindor went to move away, but strong fingers caught his arm and held him still, as the eyes bored into him, taunting him and coaxing him all at the same time. His breath rushed ragged out of his throat. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Running was still an option.
Draco snaked an arm across Harry's chest, other hand creeping over his face to touch his chin, gently turning it so that their lips just barely met. Harry felt a shiver run all over his body.
So maybe running was *not* an option.
"Did you have something to say to me?" The blonde smirked, running his tongue around Harry's instinctively puckering lips.
"I can't let you hurt Ron or Her- unh!" His back arched sharply, head digging back into Draco's shoulder. He vaguely felt Draco's smirking mouth against his collar bone, barely was aware of cloth slipping down off his shoulder.
"If only you weren't so selfish, Harry. I waited for you, and I *hate* to wait." Grip tightened and Harry cried out, hands struggling against Draco's, tangling in robes, lips parting, eyelids fluttering like the delicate wings of frightened butterflies. Teeth worked at the joint of his neck and shoulder, tongue massaging flushed skin and a fierce sucking drawing the deep red blood to the surface of his blushing flesh. And the feeling of the deepest kind of sinful delight.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, lowering to his knees and laying his head against Draco's thigh. A white hand angled his face upwards, quivering lips meeting the velvet over rock mouth, gingerly tongues entwining. For a moment the hallway was as silent as the darkness of Death. Harry lost his breath, lashes rising to reveal moist emerald orbs swimming in a sea of vivid emotion. He studied the white face before him, marveling at the silver lashes lightly kissing the sharp cheekbones. When they opened to regard him with a small window of relief, he felt his heart clench.
Draco sunk down, never parting their kiss, and wrapped his arms tightly around his renewed lover, pressing his body as close as it could go against Harry's front. Their lips grew warmer and warmer as their kiss intensified. With an almost hungry vigor, they swallowed moans and tasted traces of chocolate or spice, trying almost in a way to devour each other's soul.
They leaned back, gasping for air, noses bumping, hips crushed together still, arms entangled around each other's waist. Harry felt a blush join the existing one over his cheeks at the scene he pictured of himself wrapped around Draco, robes rumpled up around his waist, shoulder down nearly exposing his whole arm, lips swollen and bruised from their fierce kisses.
"Well, don't we make a pretty picture," Draco breathed, ducking his head to tease at the flesh of Harry's throat. His hand slipped beneath the black robe to draw teasing circles around Harry's naval, and stroke the thin line of light brown hair tracing down from it.
"Nothing could ever be more beautiful," Harry replied.....
..... You'd think fish would bite at a gourmet poppy seed muffin, thought Harry miserably, bringing up his line to glare at the soggy piece of month old muffin he had dug up from the cushions of the couch. He sneezed and fell back a little, nearly shoving his palm into the ashtray holding several smoldering cigars, almost singing the yellowish pages of Draco's book. Gingerly dropping his line back and plucking the liveliest of the smoking fags from the ashtray, Harry shook off ash from the naughty novel and scanned the last page he read, searching for his place.
"Sarah already stripped by then," he murmured, turning the page and skimming more text. "Merlin, don't I have any shame?" He threw the book down, scowling at the empty water below his dangling feet. After a few minutes of silent nothing, his eyes somehow found their way back to the book. The heroine had just been captured by the evil guy in the tight pants.
Glancing around warily, as if the fish would care, Harry grabbed the book quickly and found his place, settling into the story again with a quick puff of his cigar. Remember to dispose of this evidence, he reminded himself, picturing the look Draco would have if he caught Harry smoking after he had already stole a smoke atop a building while they were visiting friends last week.
"Maybe you guys need a little serenade," Harry joked at the absent fish. Clearing his throat and humming horribly out of tune, Harry began to belt out a rather clipped version of "Respect" by Aretha Franklin.
"R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Take care, TCB
Sock it to me, sock it to me,
sock it to me, sock it to me!"
Fading weakly, he stared down at the water.
"Geez, tough crowd."
Not a bloody fish in sight, the bastards.
Tapping ash off the end of his fag, Harry nearly sneezed, keeping his fingers folded in the book as he held onto the pole with the other hand and leaned over to waggle his head above the ashtray. Then, cursing as his cigar slipped from between his lips and rolled a little on the dock, the naughty novel was knocked from his fingers as the pole jerked spastically. He felt a sharp and distinct tug on it again. Because of his victorious joy, he realized only too late that Draco's book was airborne over the rippling surface of the lake.
Dropping the fishing pole with a clatter to the wood and ignoring it as it was pulled subtly over the edge into the water, Harry paced the edge of the dock, wondering if it was logical to jump in for a naughty novel when he was in his jeans and the weather was dismal out. Then again, it *was* Draco's favorite, and he *had* rather stolen it.
Swearing graphically, Harry watched in dismay as the book dipped beneath the surface. Warring within himself whether to jump in or not, he stepped backwards onto the smoldering cigar rolling around on the dock. With a loud and shrill yowl, Harry went careening off the side of the dock and landed flat face down in the water. The smack could be heard for miles around, and would have put the great sumo belly floppers to shame.
A/N: Okay, so I'm guessing you figured out that Ron and Hermione made up, ne? Okay, I just *knew* you guys were a smart group! *wink* Anyway, I'm in no mood to breach the subject of how they made up. I'm laaazy. *squee* And I know very well how much you all hate me for how weak I made our Golden Boy, but everyone has their weakness! Harry's just happens to be a drop dead gorgeous Slut!Draco. Eh, that's the way the cookie crumbles, and I am NO cook. Thank you all for your patience with me. Love, love! ^_^* Au revior! MERRY CHRISTMAS - AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF!!
~*Villain*~
**DragonMage: Thank you! He is just a cashew, isn't he?
**AshFarley: *giggles*
**pastshadows: ^_^
**Remmy: Yeah, that part seems to be better...
**Fanny Chan: You think I need MORE?! *_~
**LB: *waves* ;^P
**lunaledafe: Hee, tanku.
**La Princesse D'or: Hey, dollface!
**TheUnknownJedi: *blush* Aw, ya shouldn't waste your space on me!
**Darke Angel: Aye aye, cap'n! Katie: Tay. ^___^
~*~
Chapter Seven: Kiss and Tell
"Look Draco, Hermione wrote. Ayserne threw up for the first time yesterday! How exciting!"
"Well, I *was* ravenously hungry anyway." Draco shoved his plate away irritably and pouted, jutting out his lower and lip and hunching down into himself, arms crossed. Harry noticed and rolled his eyes, sending a biscuit careening into Draco's temple. The blonde squawked and flipped out of the chair.
"Lighten up!" he laughed as Draco growled, batting at his hair to rid the fine silky strands of any remaining crumbs. Harry wrinkled his nose at something in the letter and the blonde sighed loudly, gathering his partner's attention. "I have to be at work early today, you know. Sherry had that *thing* to talk to me about. I'm guessing it's a raise - as long as *she* gets to raise something for herself," Draco groaned miserably, "The first thing I told those people was that I was gay! Maybe I should dig up that cheesy one piece suit, then nothing will be getting *raised*....."
Harry's face fell. He set down the letter from Hermione and slid into a chair beside Draco. "I forgot," he said quietly, "When do you leave?" Draco glanced sidelong at his partner and hid a smile. The man looked positively needy, and Draco could easily admit that it made him feel a touch better to have Harry forget everything accept for *him* for a few moments.
"Around twelve or so. I need to take a shower and get dressed, then I'm gone until six." His sly little smile widened when Harry worried his lower lip, sucking on it. It was clear the man didn't want Draco to go to work, but Draco was sick of all this talk of the baby, and bored with nothing to do during the day. So Draco had taken on a job to pass the time. He was quite used to times like these, going through intervals without work, then yearning for some point in waking up early on a Monday. The only thing he didn't like about his job was that the manager's (Sherry, a fifty something year old) hands somehow always found there way to his backside.
"No clinging slacks today...." he murmured when pushing aside suit after suit a half an hour later. He saw Harry slink into the bedroom out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. "It's not the end of the world, you know," he said, maybe a little harsher than he would have liked. Though Harry only looked hurt momentarily before smoothing it over with a casual look while inspecting his fingernails.
"I'm sorry," Harry sighed, trying to sound nonchalant, "It's just... we've always had jobs together. Neither of us has really been left alone at home before." Now he sounded really stung. Draco turned around, irritation dissipating into a warm feeling of protectiveness for the dejected looking man, made even more so by his unruly hair and thick rimmed glasses fixed with tape (he always had them that way, no matter what spells Draco had to offer).
"I'll be sure to make it up to you later," Draco teased, throwing his arms around Harry's neck and suckling the flushed pink earlobe.
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that and quit acting so rejected! You could go visit Ayserne or something, the kid likes you. She doesn't burp nearly as much when I'm around her. I swear she has it in for me."
"That's only because you call her 'Pickle'. Really, Draco."
"She resembles a pickle, it's not my fault! Though I still don't see why they didn't name the mini Weasly after me. Think about it: Dracona Draco Malfoya Weasly. Well, cut off the 'Weasly' part and I say that's a winning name."
"Dracona? Malfoya?"
The blonde became suddenly infatuated with the grandfather clock. "Oh! Would you look at the time? Harry darling, I'm going to be late! Sherry will have an excuse to spank me after all." He gave Harry a sly grin and cut off any protest from the other man with a captivating kiss which Harry melted into, sighing as Draco's slender hands traveled over his back, delving into curves of wiry muscle. He whimpered slightly when Draco drew away and licked along his jaw line.
"Miss me today," Harry breathed against Draco's mouth with a melancholy tone lacing his wispy voice. He lightly fingered Draco's lips, his body already longing for the blonde's touch.
"I already do," Draco whispered back, gently knocking his forehead against Harry's. He drew away and smiled beautifully at his love, lightly brushing his index finger over Harry's jagged scar, lips quirking as the raven haired man gave a small moan, quivering lids falling to cover the turning spring green eyes.
Harry hugged himself tightly as Draco shrugged on his cloak, calling once over his shoulder before he Disapparated, "Anyway, it's a damn better name than Harriet Harry Potterena anyway!"
Harry frowned at the empty space where Draco had just stood.
"Bye."
The house seemed suddenly empty and cold. A shudder passed through the walls as the grandfather clock groaned and hummed the twelve o'clock chimes. Again and again the pendulum swung and the ringing stabbed through the silence. Growing annoyed, Harry walked over and open the small glass door, reaching inside the clock to gently grab hold the pendulum and stop the swinging for seven more turns. Then he let go and made his way to the kitchen to clean up plates, scratching his head and yawning, wondering if it was worth it to even take a shower that day since no one but himself would be smelling anything.
As he walked toward the bathroom with his towel and robe as slow and melancholy as a funeral procession, he glanced up at the mantle and paused, depression and loneliness already sweeping over him. Gently he fingered the glass case holding a single snow white feather that had belonged to Hedwig. It glimmered in the airy afternoon light and Harry found tears prickling his eyes. Angrily, he rubbed them away and busied himself in the shower. It would wake him up, maybe today would be good for some housework begging to be done-
Three hours later and plenty of cold water since the hot had run out fifteen minutes into his shower, Harry stumbled out of the bathroom, even more depressed than before.
I'm being stupid, he chided himself. You always tend to fret - and talk to yourself - when Draco's away. And your fingers are all wrinkly, dammit.
"But he's my other half," he argued, throwing himself on the couch dejectedly. When he closed his eyes in the lonely silence, a sad smile kissed his mouth. "'What To Do When One Is Bored'. Why the hell don't people write *useful* books anymore!" Harry rolled onto his side, one arm flopping over to drag limp fingers on the floor. Draco had been gone now for what seemed to be a thousand stubborn eternity's. Harry was going out of his mind. Why did Draco feel the need to get a job anyway? They had money, they had each other. That was all either needed!
Maybe he's getting sick of me, Harry groaned mentally, wringing his wrists. But no, that wouldn't happen. They'd been through so much together, such hard times. Choices had been forced on the both of them, along with responsibilities and great weight. Through that they had come through and Harry loved Draco more than words could ever describe.....
..... A deadly quiet voice broke through the night, stinging right next to his ear, "You think I enjoy to be left waiting like that, Potter?"
He had known he would have to face Draco sometime. Practice had been running late, and along with helping Fred get to the infirmary - Harry hadn't made it to the abandoned classroom in time. Added to that, he received a detention from Snape for messing up the hallway with his muddy robes and shoes. Luckily McGonnagal had been there too, one of the only times Harry was glad she was around when he was in trouble. She held the Potions Master back from deducting even *more* points.
Snape had sneered at Harry over McGonnagal's shoulder as the woman puffed up like a frog. "This school is dirty enough!" she roared, "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but until you get it that the showers in the bathrooms are for actual use, I'm going to have to take an action upon your messy behavior. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Snape rubbed his hands together with glee and pushed his luck. "Are you sure you don't mean *thirty* points? This *is* such a big spot of mud, trailing all the way-"
"Don't push it, Severus."
Now Harry was kneeling down in mud and a bed of soggy lichen, twining his hands tightly in the slimy fungus and face growing hot as Draco continued to assault him with hissing, angry words that attacked everything from himself to his dead parents. Before he could think to defend himself and explain (not that that *ever* really worked), Draco had suddenly shoved him and Harry found himself staring rather dazedly up at Draco from the wet ground. The Slytherin's mouth twisted into a leering smirk. Shivers racked Harry's spine, and liquid seeped through the threads of his light cloak and bit at his skin. But none of this seemed to concern him. What did indeed concern him was the calmly livid blonde watching him with a face like an ivory mask. Harry carefully picked his glasses up from a puddle and looked at them dismally. He went to put them back on his nose when a rigid elfin hand whipped out and snatched them from his fingers, throwing them into a bush.
"Ah!" Harry lunged after them, but the same rigid hand closed around the collar of his shirt and he was yanked back into a laying down position, now experiencing a slight anger building towards the boy who regarded him as if he were nothing but a worn old toy. The only thing he could see clearly in the slightly out of focus face were the sharp eyes, now burning.
Wiping the mud from his face and dragging himself away, Harry glared at Draco angrily, and moved to say - yell - scream something at the icy Slytherin.
Quicker and smoother than a viper, Draco swept down, his knees barely brushing the ground, and pressed a finger to Harry's lips. The digit was ice cold and Harry cringed away from it, his eyes going up to Draco's, and blinking away the growing rapidity of rain droplets dripping through the leaves on the trees. They streamed down his face and dripped from the tendrils of black. His face was stark white in the half light, mouth a bright and angry red from how long he had been worrying his lips. His scar stood out as a crooked black ink mark on his forehead, eyes a sparkling and turbid green as a jungle pool.
Draco watched him silently and Harry remembered what he had thought at the Quidditch match when this whole affair had started. No one ever takes advantage of Draco Malfoy. No one ever gets the better of the Slytherin. And suddenly Harry felt fear. He felt fear of the boy in front of him, fear of the lightning flashing above and striking up the white tendrils of fire in Draco's eyes, fear of how the halo of silver crackled in the dying light, fear of the feelings in turmoil within him. Fear of the failure of his own voice resisting the need to make some sort of sound. Fear of the fact Draco was so close to him and touching him, peeling back his cloak in silence, never their eyes breaking, never breaking the hold Harry was in, nor the fear that clung to his skin inside the tiny crystalline droplets of rain.
The coming night bit at the shrinking flesh of Harry's back as he was lowered down, bare chested, onto his cloak. His eyes ran with rain and tears. Draco pushed his head to the side and held his chin, lowering his quivering lips to gently caress the arched white neck, and toy with the erected buds of dark red on Harry's shuddering chest. Fingers, smooth but cruel, scraped over his stomach and at the waistband of his jeans. Cold grew more intense and a gasp cut the forest rain like a dagger through flesh. Green eyes widened fleetingly in panic as his body screamed in the agony of the heart and the brain. Captivating lips trailed down his steaming body to gently play over soft skin and a red tongue slipped from between the searching lips to delve beneath skin and quaking nerves.
This time a cry echoed in the trees. Eyes flashed among the branches as Harry cried out again, throwing his head side to side and his face constricting in a painful pleasure. The whole time, storming, icy eyes watched him, watched the boy fall under the untamable spell and watch as his vulnerable chest shook and legs quavered. Lips parted as lids rose to unveil misty eyes. Words shaped upon the lips and gray eyes narrowed as a soft, hesitant hand pushed his face out from the steam rolling off of fevered skin.
Draco stared in a mix of burning shock and blazing anger. Harry sat up and looked back at him, his flushed face clearly visible in the night. Then the words, dropping from his lips as vile poison, struck Draco deep inside as nothing he had ever encountered before.
"I - I can't keep doing this. You don't - own me, Draco."
Anger as nothing the Slytherin ever experienced pumped through his veins and Harry's gasping cry brought a look of bitter mirth into his eyes as he forcibly dragged the Gryffindor's head over to the side so that half the delicate face was submerged in moist lichen. Harry's hands tore at his arm and scratched, but Draco ignored it, putting his mouth right next to Harry's ear and hissing very quietly, "The hell I don't, Potter." Then he jerked Harry up again and crushed their lips together with enough force to send both of them to the ground, Draco pinning Harry's wrists above his head and roughly shoving his knee between stark white thighs.
Tongues twined and fought, teeth crowded and tugged, lips twisted and struggled to form words. Fingers tangled in ebony locks, tearing at them with a combination of anger and passion. Moans going to cover the whimpers and the muffled pleas. He had him flat on the ground again, pressing into him, now lying struggling in the mud. Bodies smacking together with dull thuds, blood drawn from writhing body, screaming eyes.
Harry threw his head to the side and shoved with all his might, kicking at the Slytherin. Draco raised a hand and brought in down with a crack echoed by lightning and Harry drew still. Breathing hard, chest heaving, Harry stared at Draco in horror, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth and his nose, blending with the fleeting rain water. His lips were swollen, purple, and bruised. Skin was rubbed raw. His scar stood out as some sort of livid reminder to Draco of who this was. Who this was *supposed* to be to him. At that moment he hated it. He hated it with a passion so deep that the blood beneath his nails felt not enough. The frantic writhing of the lithe body beneath him in fright shot adrenaline through his veins. He tilted his head down at Harry and swallowed up his mouth for another hot kiss. A growl reverberated deep in his throat when the lips were ripped from his and he was presented with the sharp jaw line of Harry's face. The Gryffindor stared hard at the ground.
"You think you can stand me up? You think you can turn away?" Draco dragged the face back to him, glaring fiercely back into the smoldering emerald flames. "No, Potter. You've fallen in too deep for that." He ground his hips into Harry and the boy arched into him, his face contorting, lips twisting into a snarl of desperate fear.
"Then do it. Just do it now, I can't stop you. Take me like you have so many times before," Harry spat, shame leaking into his eyes. "And I've let you. I've let you put your dirty hands all over me. And you know why, Malfoy? I actually thought after all these months that I loved you. But you used me. You've *been* using me! Ever since that first kiss, you've toyed with me. I should have known! And now look at you. But what can I do? Go ahead, force me! You took me by force the first time, didn't you? And you loved it."
Draco leaned back, perched atop Harry's hips, a mocking smile playing over his lips. In the half moonlight, with his sharp face shadowed and contorted, he looked like the bloody Devil himself.
"No, Potter. I don't think I will. You're nothing to me. Just a worthless romantic. But you wait and see. You can't live without me; Without me in you, around you, consuming you. You're not amusing anymore, Potter. You've grown dull and boring. Go back to your mudblood bint and your rat packing Weasel. They've probably missed you. More than I ever will."
"Get off of me."
"Such a temper for someone in your position. No one tells me what to do." The hand rose again and Harry clenched his teeth, eyes burning into the twin slits of ice. He flinched when cold fingers touched his cheek and the mouth once again pressed to his, unreasoning. They sat like that while the rain pounded onto them with a deadly force of chilling cold. Green slipped shut to avoid the gray. Draco rose off of Harry, throwing him a nasty smirk over his shoulder as he strolled away casually, holding their half filled bag of lichen they were meant to harvest for Hagrid over his shoulder. "See you around, Potter."
And he was gone.
~*~
When he was turning a corner, Harry nearly ran into Ron and Hermione, who were in a heated argument over whether chocolate frogs were better than every flavored beans.
"Hermione, what about the *mystery*!"
"Tell me that when you get a dung flavored bean. Then you'll be singing a different tune!"
"How can you - Harry! Just in time, we need to invent some more ways to die, quick! Our Divination homework is due tomorrow instead of Friday." The other two Gryffindors started back towards the House, and Harry couldn't help but follow. Inside, he sat lazily spread out in an armchair as Ron checked off ways that they would be dying. As he covered all the scenarios when a Unicorn could gore them, he brightened and sang happily, "I heard Malfoy fell off his broom, if you can believe it! He's been in a real fowl mood lately. And it couldn't be funnier."
"Finding joy in other's suffering. Honestly!" Hermione glared at her boyfriend waspishly.
Ron shot her a dopey grin. "But Mione, it's *Malfoy*!"
"And...?"
"Well, you *did* say person. And we know that just isn't possible concerning him."
"Go get gored by a unicorn," she snapped.
"Which way? Personally, I would rather die in a Ronald Kabob."
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. Ron leaned back to give her a peck on the cheek and snap her book shut obnoxiously, making her lose her place. Squawking at him, she through her worn copy of Hogwarts: A History at his head.
Harry watched them, chuckling over his Potions homework. He found that he loved spending time with them again. They both had accepted his sudden occupancy of the Great Hall and the common room without words, sharing relieved glances with each other at the thought that their Harry was back.
The three of them swapped stories of their early childhood, finally letting Hermione retire to her own room after the story of Harry setting the Python on Dudley for the seventeenth time.
"Goodnight, Hermione!"
"Get a good rest, Harry."
Ron kissed her softly on her forehead, ignoring the catcalls and inappropriate noises issuing from both Seamus and Dean's beds. The bushy brunette waved them all goodnight and ducked out the door. For another half an hour Ron ranted about her, to the dismay of an overtired, high-strung Neville, and a completely unromantic Seamus and Dean. Harry was the only one who listened, with only half an ear as he wrote to Sirius and Remus. All he gathered from Ron's bantering was that Hermione was nothing short of a Goddess. As he drifted into sleep, he smiled to himself and wondered about the appealing sixth year in Hufflepuff that kept shooting him glances at dinner.
The next morning, Harry awoke to find Ron's bed completely empty. Seamus was up brushing his teeth and informed Harry, while managing to spray paste on his glasses, that Ron had snuck out about three that morning when receiving a letter from Hermione.
"To meet in the *Tower*," Seamus cooed at Dean, who flicked water back at him. Harry thanked Seamus for the information and rushed down the steps and to the Great Hall with a certain jump in his step.
That certain jump missed the ground and crumpled in a heap when Harry entered the corridor right outside the Great Hall. He had first heard their voices, and now saw them. Ron looked in a rage, his arms thrown up, mouth wide and yelling. Hermione stood across from him, screaming with tears running down her face. Panicked, Harry started to run, and their words came into focus.
"....mudblood not good enough for you!? Did all those *sensible* things he said about dirty blood finally touch that pure blooded sensitive spot, Ron? Or did you just *accidentally* let Malfoy pushed you up against a wall and-"
"I TOLD YOU, I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS HIM WHO SENT ME THE NOTE! IT SAID IT WAS FROM YOU!"
"I'd think after seven years of friendship that you would be able to tell my handwriting, Ron! But I guess you don't know me that well."
"What is there to know!?" Ron bellowed, "All there is about *you*, Hermione, are books!"
Hermione staggered a step or two backward, her eyes streaming. But the anger and betrayal in her face didn't budge. With a sob, she marched up to the flushed redhead and slapped him firmly on the cheek, snapping his head to the side. He made a grab for her wrist, but she had already fled down the hall and disappeared. As if out of nowhere, Lavender and Parvati materialized from the walls and followed her, twittering like two old birds.
Harry approached Ron slowly, who stood fixed on the spot, staring slack jawed after Hermione, hand resting as if unbelieving against the livid red mark on his cheek. He looked at Harry, a little shell shocked, and mumbled, "Didn't mean to say that."
"What happened," demanded Harry quietly, his heart already pounding in his chest since the mention of Draco.
"I got a letter this morning. It was signed by Hermione, to meet her at the Astronomy Tower. Yeah, it was a little unlike her, but-"
"What *happened*? Ron, tell me."
"I swear Harry, you know I'm not - I'd never-"
"What did Malfoy do?" said Harry urgently.
"He - I got to the tower and no one was there. I thought to wait for Hermione, when all of a sudden, I was slammed up against the wall and someone was kissing me. Then I saw Hermione and - it was Malfoy. Harry, Malfoy shoved me up against the wall just as Hermione came up the steps. She said - she *yelled* that she got a note from *me*. But - look, I even have the letter to prove it!"
He held up a shaking piece of paper that rustled in the silence of the hall.
"Did he hurt you?" Harry's voice was quiet, thick. There was a heavy sinking in his stomach.
"No, he didn't. Harry, when Hermione left, Malfoy pushed me away like it was *me* who'd jumped on *him*. I was bloody well shook up and my head really hurt. Malfoy, the bastard, he just gave me this smile and I swear Harry, I could've killed him."
Ron's eyes had wandered and Harry knew his friend was barely paying attention to anything. At the lanky redhead's feet Harry noticed a glinting circular object and knelt down to pick it up. His brow furrowed with worry, for it was Ron's promise ring to Hermione. He walked his friend to the Hall and convinced him to eat something, leaving him in the hands of Seamus and Dean.
Then he went searching for Draco.
~*~
"I doubt arguing with a wall will get you anywhere, Potter," Draco sneered, causing Harry to jump and whirl, glaring hotly at the smug blonde leaning causally up against a smooth desk and causally appraising a grotesque pewter carving of a dying dragon. "And anyway, the Slytherin entranceway lies beyond the next hall." He waved to a place behind him and shook himself, a look of boredom fixed almost painfully exact on his face. Harry pursed his lips, turning away and staring fixedly at his shaking hand still resting upon the cold stone, fingers slightly curled.
As was the Slytherin's habit, he seemed to materialize close to Harry's shoulder, close enough that Harry could feel his breath stir the hair at his temple. Forcing his eyes upwards, Harry glared at Draco with as much anger as he could muster, which nearly faltered altogether beneath the blonde's cool scrutinizing gaze. Suddenly his great plan to blow up at the boy seemed petty and pointless. It took all his restraint not to either run or walk away.
"Restraint, plus passion, equals tension."
Harry stared wordlessly.
"And you do look *awfully* tense, Potter," Draco purred, moving behind Harry and running his hands over the curve of his rigid spine. The Gryffindor went to move away, but strong fingers caught his arm and held him still, as the eyes bored into him, taunting him and coaxing him all at the same time. His breath rushed ragged out of his throat. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Running was still an option.
Draco snaked an arm across Harry's chest, other hand creeping over his face to touch his chin, gently turning it so that their lips just barely met. Harry felt a shiver run all over his body.
So maybe running was *not* an option.
"Did you have something to say to me?" The blonde smirked, running his tongue around Harry's instinctively puckering lips.
"I can't let you hurt Ron or Her- unh!" His back arched sharply, head digging back into Draco's shoulder. He vaguely felt Draco's smirking mouth against his collar bone, barely was aware of cloth slipping down off his shoulder.
"If only you weren't so selfish, Harry. I waited for you, and I *hate* to wait." Grip tightened and Harry cried out, hands struggling against Draco's, tangling in robes, lips parting, eyelids fluttering like the delicate wings of frightened butterflies. Teeth worked at the joint of his neck and shoulder, tongue massaging flushed skin and a fierce sucking drawing the deep red blood to the surface of his blushing flesh. And the feeling of the deepest kind of sinful delight.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, lowering to his knees and laying his head against Draco's thigh. A white hand angled his face upwards, quivering lips meeting the velvet over rock mouth, gingerly tongues entwining. For a moment the hallway was as silent as the darkness of Death. Harry lost his breath, lashes rising to reveal moist emerald orbs swimming in a sea of vivid emotion. He studied the white face before him, marveling at the silver lashes lightly kissing the sharp cheekbones. When they opened to regard him with a small window of relief, he felt his heart clench.
Draco sunk down, never parting their kiss, and wrapped his arms tightly around his renewed lover, pressing his body as close as it could go against Harry's front. Their lips grew warmer and warmer as their kiss intensified. With an almost hungry vigor, they swallowed moans and tasted traces of chocolate or spice, trying almost in a way to devour each other's soul.
They leaned back, gasping for air, noses bumping, hips crushed together still, arms entangled around each other's waist. Harry felt a blush join the existing one over his cheeks at the scene he pictured of himself wrapped around Draco, robes rumpled up around his waist, shoulder down nearly exposing his whole arm, lips swollen and bruised from their fierce kisses.
"Well, don't we make a pretty picture," Draco breathed, ducking his head to tease at the flesh of Harry's throat. His hand slipped beneath the black robe to draw teasing circles around Harry's naval, and stroke the thin line of light brown hair tracing down from it.
"Nothing could ever be more beautiful," Harry replied.....
..... You'd think fish would bite at a gourmet poppy seed muffin, thought Harry miserably, bringing up his line to glare at the soggy piece of month old muffin he had dug up from the cushions of the couch. He sneezed and fell back a little, nearly shoving his palm into the ashtray holding several smoldering cigars, almost singing the yellowish pages of Draco's book. Gingerly dropping his line back and plucking the liveliest of the smoking fags from the ashtray, Harry shook off ash from the naughty novel and scanned the last page he read, searching for his place.
"Sarah already stripped by then," he murmured, turning the page and skimming more text. "Merlin, don't I have any shame?" He threw the book down, scowling at the empty water below his dangling feet. After a few minutes of silent nothing, his eyes somehow found their way back to the book. The heroine had just been captured by the evil guy in the tight pants.
Glancing around warily, as if the fish would care, Harry grabbed the book quickly and found his place, settling into the story again with a quick puff of his cigar. Remember to dispose of this evidence, he reminded himself, picturing the look Draco would have if he caught Harry smoking after he had already stole a smoke atop a building while they were visiting friends last week.
"Maybe you guys need a little serenade," Harry joked at the absent fish. Clearing his throat and humming horribly out of tune, Harry began to belt out a rather clipped version of "Respect" by Aretha Franklin.
"R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Take care, TCB
Sock it to me, sock it to me,
sock it to me, sock it to me!"
Fading weakly, he stared down at the water.
"Geez, tough crowd."
Not a bloody fish in sight, the bastards.
Tapping ash off the end of his fag, Harry nearly sneezed, keeping his fingers folded in the book as he held onto the pole with the other hand and leaned over to waggle his head above the ashtray. Then, cursing as his cigar slipped from between his lips and rolled a little on the dock, the naughty novel was knocked from his fingers as the pole jerked spastically. He felt a sharp and distinct tug on it again. Because of his victorious joy, he realized only too late that Draco's book was airborne over the rippling surface of the lake.
Dropping the fishing pole with a clatter to the wood and ignoring it as it was pulled subtly over the edge into the water, Harry paced the edge of the dock, wondering if it was logical to jump in for a naughty novel when he was in his jeans and the weather was dismal out. Then again, it *was* Draco's favorite, and he *had* rather stolen it.
Swearing graphically, Harry watched in dismay as the book dipped beneath the surface. Warring within himself whether to jump in or not, he stepped backwards onto the smoldering cigar rolling around on the dock. With a loud and shrill yowl, Harry went careening off the side of the dock and landed flat face down in the water. The smack could be heard for miles around, and would have put the great sumo belly floppers to shame.
A/N: Okay, so I'm guessing you figured out that Ron and Hermione made up, ne? Okay, I just *knew* you guys were a smart group! *wink* Anyway, I'm in no mood to breach the subject of how they made up. I'm laaazy. *squee* And I know very well how much you all hate me for how weak I made our Golden Boy, but everyone has their weakness! Harry's just happens to be a drop dead gorgeous Slut!Draco. Eh, that's the way the cookie crumbles, and I am NO cook. Thank you all for your patience with me. Love, love! ^_^* Au revior! MERRY CHRISTMAS - AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF!!
~*Villain*~