Title: Hook, Line, and Sinker
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: G to PG-13, depending on the chapter
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness
Updates: every Friday. If you want a reminder, leave me your e-mail addy in a review.
Summary: H/D *slash* Everyone loves the holidays because love blooms. Each chapter is a different holiday in which Harry and Draco find romance. Second holiday: Saint Patrick's Day!
A/N: I think this is my favorite holiday out of all the ones I have written so far. In fact, I think out of all the H/D fics I've written, I like this chapter more than anything else. Any of you who've read my other fics might see why...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Holiday 2: Saint Patrick's Day
Rated: PG-13
.
.
Night just seemed to go on forever! Harry Potter tossed and turned until dawn, the quasi-insomnia due to anticipation and nervousness of the upcoming day. And it would be a good day indeed if all went as well as he had planned it to.
His wonderful friend Hermione Granger had helped him come up with this brilliant plan. He loved the way her mind worked. Her brain was sheer wisdom with just the right amount of twisted wickedness.
Finally stirring from his light sleep, Harry was relieved to see that he was the first one awake. Taking a quick shower, he returned to his room and opened the bottom drawer of his bureau, rummaging around until he found what he had buried there. Taking a deep breath, he got dressed, robes and all, and went down into the common room.
About fifteen minutes later, the first of the Gryffindors started making an appearance. Among them was Ron Weasley, Harry's other best friend. He came directly over to where Harry was sitting, stared at him for a minute, then pinched his arm.
"Ouch! You didn't have to do that so hard," Harry complained, rubbing the tender red spot.
"Sorry, mate, but you asked for it," Ron chuckled. "No green. Eyes don't count."
"And you?"
Ron lifted the hem of his too-short trousers to reveal moss green socks. "Mum knitted them for me for occasions like these."
"Lucky you," Harry muttered. If this was what he'd have to put up with all day, then maybe he'd better forget about his grand idea.
But at that moment, Hermione came into the room, and he remembered the wonderful pep talk she had given him the night before. No, he was going to go through with this.
"Morning," Hermione greeted them brightly as she sat down beside Harry. Her hair was braided with green ribbons woven in. She looked Ron over before spotting his green socks, then turned to Harry. "Sleep well?"
"You're not going to pinch him? No green," Ron pointed out. He wasn't about to let any offenders get away today.
"Oh, of course," she laughed lightly, pinching Harry's cheek softly as she leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You ready for today?"
He nodded imperceptibly as another throng of loudly talking Gryffindors came downstairs. At the rear of the group was Seamus Finnigan, and Harry's mouth dropped open when he saw the Irish teen.
Seamus was wearing his robes, which were now covered in very green and very much real shamrocks. But that wasn't the most shocking part. His hair was green! Not just a green tint, but a deep green that matched the shamrocks.
"It's charmed to stay green all day no matter what," Seamus explained proudly as he saw the trio staring. "You like?"
Shaking his head in amusement, Harry said, "It's you, Seamus."
Seamus beamed, then walked over and pinched Harry's thigh. "And you, my dear, are not wearing any green. Eyes don't count, you know."
"I know," Harry grumbled, growing a bit irritated at being pinches three times before he ever left the common room. At this rate, he'd be a walking bruise by the end of the day. "Let's head to breakfast."
On the way to the Great hall, Harry lost count of how many times he had been pinched, by Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike. Apparently the Slytherins didn't want to participate in the fun of Saint Patrick's Day. Harry guessed that it just wasn't as exciting for them since one of their House colors was green.
At breakfast, Harry was relieved that most of the students were more preoccupied with eating than with scouting out potential victims. Seamus, however, had taken it upon himself to pinch Harry a myriad of times to make up for everyone else's lacking to do so. Finally Hermione had taken pity on her battered friend and ordered Seamus to stop with the maniacal pinching.
"Serves you right for not wearing green, mate," Ron scolded through a mouthful of eggs. "Should've known better."
Exchanging an amused glance with Hermione, Harry ignored Ron's comment and turned his attention to the Slytherin table. Eyes roaming over its occupants, he finally stopped on Draco Malfoy.
It was no secret that Harry had a crush on Draco. All right, so it *was* a secret. Harry wasn't about to let the entire school know before he let said crush know. But hopefully, by the end of the day, all would be out in the open.
Finishing their breakfast, the trio made their way to the dungeons for a rousing Potions lesson. For the first time in his seven years of schooling at Hogwarts, Harry was looking forward to Potions. It wasn't because he liked the class, and he definitely didn't like Professor Snape. It was because, like the six years before, the Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins. And Harry just so happened to be partnered with a certain pale-complexioned blonde.
They were among the last students to reach the classroom. With an encouraging smile from Hermione, Harry made his way to the back of the room and began pulling books from his bag.
The blonde sitting beside him smirked. He was the embodiment of aristocracy and anything that smelled of money. His gaze was focused on Harry, and Harry could feel those silvery eyes rake over him. He felt exposed, like Draco suddenly knew what Harry had in store, but he couldn't possibly know. Breathing deeply, Harry stared straight ahead and waiting for Draco to make the first move.
Snorting, Draco said haughtily, "Idiot Gryffindorks, all dressed up and looking more stupid than usual."
Facing the blonde, Harry answered, "You're just upset because you can't participate. You're already wearing green, so you have no excuse to be festive."
Shaking his head, Draco tsked in response. "As usual, you're wrong, big surprise. Unlike the other Slytherins, I happen to like this holiday. Any day that gives you free license to pinch people is good. Speaking of which, I see that you're not wearing any green." He reached over to pinch Harry's arm.
Harry reached up and deftly caught Draco's wrist, startling him. "I'm sorry, but you don't get that privilege. I *am* wearing green." He let Draco's hand go.
"Green eyes don't count," Draco reminded him.
"I know. I'm not talking about my eyes."
"Then where? Show me the green you're wearing," Draco demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Shaking his head, Harry answered, "No. Class is about to start."
Before Draco could protest, Professor Snape entered the room. He gave everyone a once-over, snorting at the green-toting Gryffindors, then dove right into their notes.
All throughout the morning, Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him, no doubt trying to guess where Harry's green article of clothing was. The intense staring almost made Harry blush a few times, but he reminded himself that nonchalance was a part of the plan, and he wasn't about to mess it up, not when things were going wonderfully so far.
Decidedly, the best part of class was when Draco had gone to the front cabinet to get an ingredient for their potion. He had glanced back at Harry, who pretended to drop something and slowly bent over to pick said nonexistent item up. Draco was staring so intently that he had dropped the jar of toad eyes and sent them sprawling across the floor, where Lavender brown slipped on one and fell into the slime puddle with a squishy plop. She had been excused to get cleaned up, and Draco, for the first time ever, Harry suspected, had gotten yelled at by Snape.
When he returned to their table, he had murder in his eyes. "Not a word, Potter," he seethed through gritted teeth as Harry tried desperately not to smile.
After class, Harry and Ron bid farewell to Hermione and began their trek to Divination. Before they even made it out of the dungeons, Draco grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back forcefully. "Where's your green?" he growled. "We're not in class now."
"You're right, but Ron and I need to dash to Divination. See you later, Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly as he yanked his arm back and pushed a confused Ron up the stairs and away from the fuming blonde.
"What was that about?" Ron wanted to know. He always thought Malfoy acted strange most of the time, but that was bizarre, even for him.
"I'll tell you later," Harry promised. If there was anything to tell...
The rest of the morning passed fairly quickly, and Harry soon found himself back in the Great Hall for lunch. All morning he had put up with being pinched left and right, but it would be well worth it. He glanced across the room to the Slytherin table, where his eyes met two stormy gray orbs. Even from so far away, Harry could see the standard Malfoy pride, the anger from Potions that morning, but most prominent was the desire to know just what Harry had on under his robes. Harry smirked at the blonde, who scowled and averted his gaze.
Ron, who had been quiet during this little show, felt the need to speak up. "Harry, what's going on between you and Malfoy?"
"Nothing." Then he added under his breath, "Yet."
Now, Ron was not stupid by any means. He noticed the stares in Potions. And that scene afterwards... And here they were, staring again. He was aware that Harry was not attracted to the female persuasion and that he never really showed interest in anyone.
Until now. While Ron was not Draco's biggest fan, he did love his best friend and wanted him to be happy. So whatever plan Harry had cooked up to snag the blonde, Ron hoped he succeeded. Leaning over towards Harry, he whispered, "Good luck snagging Malfoy."
Harry turned to Ron, wide-eyed. "You know?"
"It was a bit obvious. Only to me," he added hastily at Harry's bewildered look.
"What was obvious?" Hermione asked as she took a seat across from them.
Still wide-eyed, Harry told her, "I think I had Ron's approval."
Hermione grinned. "Really? Fantastic!" She stood, leaned across the table, and grabbed Ron's chin, kissing him thoroughly. She sat back down to a myriad of whistles and clapping from the other Gryffindors.
Once he snapped out of his daze, Ron declared, "I should've been more supportive a long time ago!"
This elicited laughter from the other two.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Ron," Harry apologized with a sheepish smile. "It's just that, I know you're not exactly fond of him, and I didn't want to stir up any trouble between us."
"Well, none was shaken or stirred. You deserve to be happy like everyone else, mate. Do what needs to be done."
"Thanks, Ron. I intend to."
As lunch ended, they joined the throng of students in the hallway who were lingering in the last minutes before afternoon classes began. Turning a corner, they were surprised to see Professor Dumbledore pinching a Ravenclaw who was not wearing green.
"It seems everyone gets into the holiday," Ron muttered as he snickered at the large green shamrock dangling from the tip of Dumbledore's hat.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry greeted the headmaster as he approached.
"Ah, Harry. Shamrocks and nimble fingers to you. What a great day," Dumbledore beamed at them, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. He looked at the three. "But each of you are safe today. Maybe next year..."
"Each of us? But Harry's not wearing green," Ron said, confused.
"Green eyes don't count," Harry reiterated what everyone had been telling him.
"I know," Dumbledore answered pointedly to Harry, eyes twinkling brighter than usual. At Harry's blush, he shooed them off. "Better get to class now."
Tossing distracted goodbyes behind them, they made their way to History of Magic.
"What was he going on about back there?" Ron wondered aloud as they took their seats among the other Gryffindors and the Slytherins.
"He's Dumbledore; who knows?" Harry shrugged, praying to Merlin that his blush had faded. No one questioned him, so it must have.
And no one had a chance to, either. At that moment, Professor Binns floated in through the door and began another boring lecture in his monotone.
It didn't take long for Harry to tune the droning voice out. He rarely paid attention in this class because he didn't have to. Hermione always took notes, and he always found some way to make her feel guilty so she'd share. Either that or he'd bother her until she grew frustrated and just threw her notes at him. It was a great system.
"Psst, Harry," Ron whispered, nudging him. "A note for you."
Taking the note from Ron, Harry hid it underneath the table. It was a simple piece of parchment, folded in half twice and bearing his name in nondescript handwriting. Curiously, he unfolded the note and read, 'Hey Potter, what's under the robes?'
Raising an eyebrow, Harry met Draco's gaze from across the room. The blonde mirrored Harry's facial expression as he waited for a reply. Turning back to the parchment, Harry scrawled underneath the question, 'You're not stupid. Figure it out.' Then he folded the note three times, wrote Draco's name on it, and passed it back to Ron, who passed it along until Draco once again had possession of it. He skimmed over Harry's words and then looked up, grinning wickedly.
Harry's heart skipped a beat. He never expected everything to fall into place so perfectly. Now there was only one part left of the plan, and it was up to Draco.
.
.
The next thing Harry knew, afternoon classes and dinner were over. He'd managed to avoid being pinched by a myriad of people, most likely because they were looking forward to their next two days off. The weekend usually brought a sense of craziness out among the students. Harry knew exactly how they felt.
And it was doubled for him because of the holiday. He had to admit, Saint Patrick's Day was usually just another day for him. But not this year. No, this year he had taken the initiative and set his plan into motion. All right, so none of it would have been started had it not been for the not-so-gentle nudging from Hermione, but that wasn't the point. The point was--
He never got to finish the thought because a pair of hands reached out and forcefully pulled him into a room. Harry immediately recognized the prefects' bathroom, then turned around to face his assailant.
He found himself face-to-face with none other than Draco, who wore his trademark smirk as he cast a locking spell on the door. "Now, Potter, I believe we have some... unfinished business to attend to?"
"Business? And here I though this was all in fun." Harry teased, somehow managing to stop himself from blushing. But he froze when he met Draco's eyes. They were dark and getting darker, and Harry could practically see lightning flashing in them they were burning so deeply. A rush of exhilarated panic overtook Harry's body, and he gave a muted gasp as Draco was suddenly directly in front of him.
Eyes still locked with Harry's, Draco raised his pale hands and placed them on Harry's shoulders, sliding them down until his palms were flat against the Gryffindor's chest.
Struggling to speak, Harry asked in a trembling voice, "What are you doing?"
"I'm figuring it out."
Bringing his hands together, Draco began to unbutton Harry's robes, then slowly pushed the material off his tensed shoulders so that the black garment pooled at their feet. Underneath was the standard Hogwarts uniform: black trousers, white shirt with tie, and gray jumper vest. "One layer down," Draco muttered before resuming his task.
Reaching down, Draco grabbed the hem of Harry's jumper, tugging it upwards. Harry raised his arms so that the garment could slip off over his head with ease. He was more than happy for his magically corrected vision. Getting everything caught on his glasses would have really ruined the moment.
Once the jumper was off, Draco reached up and unloosened the gold and red striped tie, unknotting it and tugging on one end so that it slowly slid from around Harry's neck. As the tie joined the other clothes at their feet, Draco murmured, "No green yet." Not Harry was down to the basic shirt, trousers, and shoes. With a deep breath and bated anticipation, Draco continued on.
Harry watched as Draco's hands reached the top button of his shirt, and he was shocked to see that the pale hands were trembling. He was just itching to help the blonde out, but this was Draco's show now. It was all him, and it was Harry's turn to sit back and enjoy.
And enjoy he did.
Fumbling clumsily with the uncooperating buttons, Draco cursed the proper upbringing that bound him to stay calm and collected when all he wanted to do was rip the shirt off of Harry's body. But since that was out of the question, he finished the painstakingly long task of unbuttoning every one of those blasted buttons. Finally getting the last one, Draco pulled the shirt open.
He couldn't help it. Draco's eyes were drawn to the expanse of tanned skin that stood out against the stark white cotton shirt. Harry's body was absolutely flawless. Smooth skin gave way to perfectly sculpted muscles. His hip bone was just barely defined above the low-slung waist of Harry's trousers.
No longer able to just look, Draco's hands started on Harry's flat stomach and roamed up to his chest, lingering for a moment before continuing up to his shoulders. His hands moved under the shirt as he pushed it off of Harry's shoulders, the material bunching at his elbows. Not willing to leave any patch of skin covered, Draco unbuttoned the cuffs and pulled the sleeves off of Harry's arms.
Harry really was a masterpiece, in Draco's opinion. His tanned, perfectly shaped body should have been in a museum. But Draco was selfish, and he wanted this heavenly vision all to himself.
Sucking in a breath, Harry closed his eyes as Draco's hands once again began their exploration. He felt cool fingers everywhere, trailing across his sides, tracing the veins on his wrists, following the curve of his collarbone, sliding down his back.
With each second of contact, he wanted to scream. His body was humming with energy. If Draco didn't move on soon, Harry was going to abandon his plan and just ravish the blonde then and there. He shivered as a puff of warm air blew across his ear. He could feel Draco's body heat, not quite touching his own skin but close enough to drive Harry mad. He nearly whimpered when Draco whispered right against his ear, "Still no green. Guess we have to try... south."
Moving so that he was once again facing Harry, Draco unbuckled Harry's belt and pulled it until it was on the floor. Those shaking hands were now settled atop the Gryffindor's waistband. Unclasping the trousers, Draco slowly undid the zipper. His eyes had been on Harry's face, watching the raven-haired teen's expressions contort with each touch. He could tell that Harry was enjoying this just as much as he was, and that fact alone was enough to drive him wild.
He watched as Harry's eyes suddenly opened, and Draco couldn't help but stare. They were so large, so vividly green and unfocused, and they were darkened with lust. No doubt they were a reflection of the emotions in Draco's own eyes.
Wrenching his gaze away, Draco slowly began to slide the black trousers from Harry's hips. Ever so slowly, inch by inch, the material slid further down, revealing more black. As the trousers now pooled around Harry's shoe-clad feet, Draco's eyes were wide, jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.
Harry was wearing a black thong, and Draco had never seen an article of clothing look so desirable on another person, himself included. Perfect body? Yes. Beautiful structure? Absolutely. Self-control? Barely contained. Draco was ready to devour him on the spot. But he was still on a mission...
Leaning forward so that they were practically nose to nose, Draco grinned. "I think I've figured it out." Hand falling to Harry's hip, his fingers brushed against a small green shamrock embroidered on the black material, embellished with the words, "Pinch me." Hand sliding around, Draco pinched the firm flesh of Harry's backside just as his mouth swallowed the gasp that Harry omitted.
Arms wrapping around the blonde, Harry returned the feverish kisses with equal fervor, each one deepening with intensity until he felt like bursting. While this was what he had hoped for, it was a million times better than what he had expected it to be. He wanted to always have Draco's arms around him. He always wanted these kisses. He wanted the moment to last forever. He wanted--
In an attempt to step closer to the blonde, Harry's feet got tangled in his trousers, and he tipped over, taking Draco with him. They landed side by side on the hard tiled floor, each chuckling. "Should've removed the shoes," Harry told Draco in all seriousness.
"Guess so," Draco shook his head with an amused smile. "Well, it took me a while, but I figured it out."
"It did take a while," Harry agreed, gently rubbing two fingers back and forth across Draco's thigh.
The blonde was silent for a moment before saying, "You know, this inspired me to be festive next year." He met Harry's gaze. "Then it'll be your turn to figure it out."
Grinning wickedly, Harry pinched Draco's thigh. "You're on."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
If only *all* holidays could end up that way... Steamy, right? I don't even know where this idea came from, but I just *had* to write it! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review! I love my reviews almost as much as I love my HP books (believe me, that's a hell of a lot of love)!
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: G to PG-13, depending on the chapter
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness
Updates: every Friday. If you want a reminder, leave me your e-mail addy in a review.
Summary: H/D *slash* Everyone loves the holidays because love blooms. Each chapter is a different holiday in which Harry and Draco find romance. Second holiday: Saint Patrick's Day!
A/N: I think this is my favorite holiday out of all the ones I have written so far. In fact, I think out of all the H/D fics I've written, I like this chapter more than anything else. Any of you who've read my other fics might see why...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Holiday 2: Saint Patrick's Day
Rated: PG-13
.
.
Night just seemed to go on forever! Harry Potter tossed and turned until dawn, the quasi-insomnia due to anticipation and nervousness of the upcoming day. And it would be a good day indeed if all went as well as he had planned it to.
His wonderful friend Hermione Granger had helped him come up with this brilliant plan. He loved the way her mind worked. Her brain was sheer wisdom with just the right amount of twisted wickedness.
Finally stirring from his light sleep, Harry was relieved to see that he was the first one awake. Taking a quick shower, he returned to his room and opened the bottom drawer of his bureau, rummaging around until he found what he had buried there. Taking a deep breath, he got dressed, robes and all, and went down into the common room.
About fifteen minutes later, the first of the Gryffindors started making an appearance. Among them was Ron Weasley, Harry's other best friend. He came directly over to where Harry was sitting, stared at him for a minute, then pinched his arm.
"Ouch! You didn't have to do that so hard," Harry complained, rubbing the tender red spot.
"Sorry, mate, but you asked for it," Ron chuckled. "No green. Eyes don't count."
"And you?"
Ron lifted the hem of his too-short trousers to reveal moss green socks. "Mum knitted them for me for occasions like these."
"Lucky you," Harry muttered. If this was what he'd have to put up with all day, then maybe he'd better forget about his grand idea.
But at that moment, Hermione came into the room, and he remembered the wonderful pep talk she had given him the night before. No, he was going to go through with this.
"Morning," Hermione greeted them brightly as she sat down beside Harry. Her hair was braided with green ribbons woven in. She looked Ron over before spotting his green socks, then turned to Harry. "Sleep well?"
"You're not going to pinch him? No green," Ron pointed out. He wasn't about to let any offenders get away today.
"Oh, of course," she laughed lightly, pinching Harry's cheek softly as she leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You ready for today?"
He nodded imperceptibly as another throng of loudly talking Gryffindors came downstairs. At the rear of the group was Seamus Finnigan, and Harry's mouth dropped open when he saw the Irish teen.
Seamus was wearing his robes, which were now covered in very green and very much real shamrocks. But that wasn't the most shocking part. His hair was green! Not just a green tint, but a deep green that matched the shamrocks.
"It's charmed to stay green all day no matter what," Seamus explained proudly as he saw the trio staring. "You like?"
Shaking his head in amusement, Harry said, "It's you, Seamus."
Seamus beamed, then walked over and pinched Harry's thigh. "And you, my dear, are not wearing any green. Eyes don't count, you know."
"I know," Harry grumbled, growing a bit irritated at being pinches three times before he ever left the common room. At this rate, he'd be a walking bruise by the end of the day. "Let's head to breakfast."
On the way to the Great hall, Harry lost count of how many times he had been pinched, by Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike. Apparently the Slytherins didn't want to participate in the fun of Saint Patrick's Day. Harry guessed that it just wasn't as exciting for them since one of their House colors was green.
At breakfast, Harry was relieved that most of the students were more preoccupied with eating than with scouting out potential victims. Seamus, however, had taken it upon himself to pinch Harry a myriad of times to make up for everyone else's lacking to do so. Finally Hermione had taken pity on her battered friend and ordered Seamus to stop with the maniacal pinching.
"Serves you right for not wearing green, mate," Ron scolded through a mouthful of eggs. "Should've known better."
Exchanging an amused glance with Hermione, Harry ignored Ron's comment and turned his attention to the Slytherin table. Eyes roaming over its occupants, he finally stopped on Draco Malfoy.
It was no secret that Harry had a crush on Draco. All right, so it *was* a secret. Harry wasn't about to let the entire school know before he let said crush know. But hopefully, by the end of the day, all would be out in the open.
Finishing their breakfast, the trio made their way to the dungeons for a rousing Potions lesson. For the first time in his seven years of schooling at Hogwarts, Harry was looking forward to Potions. It wasn't because he liked the class, and he definitely didn't like Professor Snape. It was because, like the six years before, the Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins. And Harry just so happened to be partnered with a certain pale-complexioned blonde.
They were among the last students to reach the classroom. With an encouraging smile from Hermione, Harry made his way to the back of the room and began pulling books from his bag.
The blonde sitting beside him smirked. He was the embodiment of aristocracy and anything that smelled of money. His gaze was focused on Harry, and Harry could feel those silvery eyes rake over him. He felt exposed, like Draco suddenly knew what Harry had in store, but he couldn't possibly know. Breathing deeply, Harry stared straight ahead and waiting for Draco to make the first move.
Snorting, Draco said haughtily, "Idiot Gryffindorks, all dressed up and looking more stupid than usual."
Facing the blonde, Harry answered, "You're just upset because you can't participate. You're already wearing green, so you have no excuse to be festive."
Shaking his head, Draco tsked in response. "As usual, you're wrong, big surprise. Unlike the other Slytherins, I happen to like this holiday. Any day that gives you free license to pinch people is good. Speaking of which, I see that you're not wearing any green." He reached over to pinch Harry's arm.
Harry reached up and deftly caught Draco's wrist, startling him. "I'm sorry, but you don't get that privilege. I *am* wearing green." He let Draco's hand go.
"Green eyes don't count," Draco reminded him.
"I know. I'm not talking about my eyes."
"Then where? Show me the green you're wearing," Draco demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Shaking his head, Harry answered, "No. Class is about to start."
Before Draco could protest, Professor Snape entered the room. He gave everyone a once-over, snorting at the green-toting Gryffindors, then dove right into their notes.
All throughout the morning, Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him, no doubt trying to guess where Harry's green article of clothing was. The intense staring almost made Harry blush a few times, but he reminded himself that nonchalance was a part of the plan, and he wasn't about to mess it up, not when things were going wonderfully so far.
Decidedly, the best part of class was when Draco had gone to the front cabinet to get an ingredient for their potion. He had glanced back at Harry, who pretended to drop something and slowly bent over to pick said nonexistent item up. Draco was staring so intently that he had dropped the jar of toad eyes and sent them sprawling across the floor, where Lavender brown slipped on one and fell into the slime puddle with a squishy plop. She had been excused to get cleaned up, and Draco, for the first time ever, Harry suspected, had gotten yelled at by Snape.
When he returned to their table, he had murder in his eyes. "Not a word, Potter," he seethed through gritted teeth as Harry tried desperately not to smile.
After class, Harry and Ron bid farewell to Hermione and began their trek to Divination. Before they even made it out of the dungeons, Draco grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back forcefully. "Where's your green?" he growled. "We're not in class now."
"You're right, but Ron and I need to dash to Divination. See you later, Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly as he yanked his arm back and pushed a confused Ron up the stairs and away from the fuming blonde.
"What was that about?" Ron wanted to know. He always thought Malfoy acted strange most of the time, but that was bizarre, even for him.
"I'll tell you later," Harry promised. If there was anything to tell...
The rest of the morning passed fairly quickly, and Harry soon found himself back in the Great Hall for lunch. All morning he had put up with being pinched left and right, but it would be well worth it. He glanced across the room to the Slytherin table, where his eyes met two stormy gray orbs. Even from so far away, Harry could see the standard Malfoy pride, the anger from Potions that morning, but most prominent was the desire to know just what Harry had on under his robes. Harry smirked at the blonde, who scowled and averted his gaze.
Ron, who had been quiet during this little show, felt the need to speak up. "Harry, what's going on between you and Malfoy?"
"Nothing." Then he added under his breath, "Yet."
Now, Ron was not stupid by any means. He noticed the stares in Potions. And that scene afterwards... And here they were, staring again. He was aware that Harry was not attracted to the female persuasion and that he never really showed interest in anyone.
Until now. While Ron was not Draco's biggest fan, he did love his best friend and wanted him to be happy. So whatever plan Harry had cooked up to snag the blonde, Ron hoped he succeeded. Leaning over towards Harry, he whispered, "Good luck snagging Malfoy."
Harry turned to Ron, wide-eyed. "You know?"
"It was a bit obvious. Only to me," he added hastily at Harry's bewildered look.
"What was obvious?" Hermione asked as she took a seat across from them.
Still wide-eyed, Harry told her, "I think I had Ron's approval."
Hermione grinned. "Really? Fantastic!" She stood, leaned across the table, and grabbed Ron's chin, kissing him thoroughly. She sat back down to a myriad of whistles and clapping from the other Gryffindors.
Once he snapped out of his daze, Ron declared, "I should've been more supportive a long time ago!"
This elicited laughter from the other two.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Ron," Harry apologized with a sheepish smile. "It's just that, I know you're not exactly fond of him, and I didn't want to stir up any trouble between us."
"Well, none was shaken or stirred. You deserve to be happy like everyone else, mate. Do what needs to be done."
"Thanks, Ron. I intend to."
As lunch ended, they joined the throng of students in the hallway who were lingering in the last minutes before afternoon classes began. Turning a corner, they were surprised to see Professor Dumbledore pinching a Ravenclaw who was not wearing green.
"It seems everyone gets into the holiday," Ron muttered as he snickered at the large green shamrock dangling from the tip of Dumbledore's hat.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry greeted the headmaster as he approached.
"Ah, Harry. Shamrocks and nimble fingers to you. What a great day," Dumbledore beamed at them, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. He looked at the three. "But each of you are safe today. Maybe next year..."
"Each of us? But Harry's not wearing green," Ron said, confused.
"Green eyes don't count," Harry reiterated what everyone had been telling him.
"I know," Dumbledore answered pointedly to Harry, eyes twinkling brighter than usual. At Harry's blush, he shooed them off. "Better get to class now."
Tossing distracted goodbyes behind them, they made their way to History of Magic.
"What was he going on about back there?" Ron wondered aloud as they took their seats among the other Gryffindors and the Slytherins.
"He's Dumbledore; who knows?" Harry shrugged, praying to Merlin that his blush had faded. No one questioned him, so it must have.
And no one had a chance to, either. At that moment, Professor Binns floated in through the door and began another boring lecture in his monotone.
It didn't take long for Harry to tune the droning voice out. He rarely paid attention in this class because he didn't have to. Hermione always took notes, and he always found some way to make her feel guilty so she'd share. Either that or he'd bother her until she grew frustrated and just threw her notes at him. It was a great system.
"Psst, Harry," Ron whispered, nudging him. "A note for you."
Taking the note from Ron, Harry hid it underneath the table. It was a simple piece of parchment, folded in half twice and bearing his name in nondescript handwriting. Curiously, he unfolded the note and read, 'Hey Potter, what's under the robes?'
Raising an eyebrow, Harry met Draco's gaze from across the room. The blonde mirrored Harry's facial expression as he waited for a reply. Turning back to the parchment, Harry scrawled underneath the question, 'You're not stupid. Figure it out.' Then he folded the note three times, wrote Draco's name on it, and passed it back to Ron, who passed it along until Draco once again had possession of it. He skimmed over Harry's words and then looked up, grinning wickedly.
Harry's heart skipped a beat. He never expected everything to fall into place so perfectly. Now there was only one part left of the plan, and it was up to Draco.
.
.
The next thing Harry knew, afternoon classes and dinner were over. He'd managed to avoid being pinched by a myriad of people, most likely because they were looking forward to their next two days off. The weekend usually brought a sense of craziness out among the students. Harry knew exactly how they felt.
And it was doubled for him because of the holiday. He had to admit, Saint Patrick's Day was usually just another day for him. But not this year. No, this year he had taken the initiative and set his plan into motion. All right, so none of it would have been started had it not been for the not-so-gentle nudging from Hermione, but that wasn't the point. The point was--
He never got to finish the thought because a pair of hands reached out and forcefully pulled him into a room. Harry immediately recognized the prefects' bathroom, then turned around to face his assailant.
He found himself face-to-face with none other than Draco, who wore his trademark smirk as he cast a locking spell on the door. "Now, Potter, I believe we have some... unfinished business to attend to?"
"Business? And here I though this was all in fun." Harry teased, somehow managing to stop himself from blushing. But he froze when he met Draco's eyes. They were dark and getting darker, and Harry could practically see lightning flashing in them they were burning so deeply. A rush of exhilarated panic overtook Harry's body, and he gave a muted gasp as Draco was suddenly directly in front of him.
Eyes still locked with Harry's, Draco raised his pale hands and placed them on Harry's shoulders, sliding them down until his palms were flat against the Gryffindor's chest.
Struggling to speak, Harry asked in a trembling voice, "What are you doing?"
"I'm figuring it out."
Bringing his hands together, Draco began to unbutton Harry's robes, then slowly pushed the material off his tensed shoulders so that the black garment pooled at their feet. Underneath was the standard Hogwarts uniform: black trousers, white shirt with tie, and gray jumper vest. "One layer down," Draco muttered before resuming his task.
Reaching down, Draco grabbed the hem of Harry's jumper, tugging it upwards. Harry raised his arms so that the garment could slip off over his head with ease. He was more than happy for his magically corrected vision. Getting everything caught on his glasses would have really ruined the moment.
Once the jumper was off, Draco reached up and unloosened the gold and red striped tie, unknotting it and tugging on one end so that it slowly slid from around Harry's neck. As the tie joined the other clothes at their feet, Draco murmured, "No green yet." Not Harry was down to the basic shirt, trousers, and shoes. With a deep breath and bated anticipation, Draco continued on.
Harry watched as Draco's hands reached the top button of his shirt, and he was shocked to see that the pale hands were trembling. He was just itching to help the blonde out, but this was Draco's show now. It was all him, and it was Harry's turn to sit back and enjoy.
And enjoy he did.
Fumbling clumsily with the uncooperating buttons, Draco cursed the proper upbringing that bound him to stay calm and collected when all he wanted to do was rip the shirt off of Harry's body. But since that was out of the question, he finished the painstakingly long task of unbuttoning every one of those blasted buttons. Finally getting the last one, Draco pulled the shirt open.
He couldn't help it. Draco's eyes were drawn to the expanse of tanned skin that stood out against the stark white cotton shirt. Harry's body was absolutely flawless. Smooth skin gave way to perfectly sculpted muscles. His hip bone was just barely defined above the low-slung waist of Harry's trousers.
No longer able to just look, Draco's hands started on Harry's flat stomach and roamed up to his chest, lingering for a moment before continuing up to his shoulders. His hands moved under the shirt as he pushed it off of Harry's shoulders, the material bunching at his elbows. Not willing to leave any patch of skin covered, Draco unbuttoned the cuffs and pulled the sleeves off of Harry's arms.
Harry really was a masterpiece, in Draco's opinion. His tanned, perfectly shaped body should have been in a museum. But Draco was selfish, and he wanted this heavenly vision all to himself.
Sucking in a breath, Harry closed his eyes as Draco's hands once again began their exploration. He felt cool fingers everywhere, trailing across his sides, tracing the veins on his wrists, following the curve of his collarbone, sliding down his back.
With each second of contact, he wanted to scream. His body was humming with energy. If Draco didn't move on soon, Harry was going to abandon his plan and just ravish the blonde then and there. He shivered as a puff of warm air blew across his ear. He could feel Draco's body heat, not quite touching his own skin but close enough to drive Harry mad. He nearly whimpered when Draco whispered right against his ear, "Still no green. Guess we have to try... south."
Moving so that he was once again facing Harry, Draco unbuckled Harry's belt and pulled it until it was on the floor. Those shaking hands were now settled atop the Gryffindor's waistband. Unclasping the trousers, Draco slowly undid the zipper. His eyes had been on Harry's face, watching the raven-haired teen's expressions contort with each touch. He could tell that Harry was enjoying this just as much as he was, and that fact alone was enough to drive him wild.
He watched as Harry's eyes suddenly opened, and Draco couldn't help but stare. They were so large, so vividly green and unfocused, and they were darkened with lust. No doubt they were a reflection of the emotions in Draco's own eyes.
Wrenching his gaze away, Draco slowly began to slide the black trousers from Harry's hips. Ever so slowly, inch by inch, the material slid further down, revealing more black. As the trousers now pooled around Harry's shoe-clad feet, Draco's eyes were wide, jaw dropped at the sight in front of him.
Harry was wearing a black thong, and Draco had never seen an article of clothing look so desirable on another person, himself included. Perfect body? Yes. Beautiful structure? Absolutely. Self-control? Barely contained. Draco was ready to devour him on the spot. But he was still on a mission...
Leaning forward so that they were practically nose to nose, Draco grinned. "I think I've figured it out." Hand falling to Harry's hip, his fingers brushed against a small green shamrock embroidered on the black material, embellished with the words, "Pinch me." Hand sliding around, Draco pinched the firm flesh of Harry's backside just as his mouth swallowed the gasp that Harry omitted.
Arms wrapping around the blonde, Harry returned the feverish kisses with equal fervor, each one deepening with intensity until he felt like bursting. While this was what he had hoped for, it was a million times better than what he had expected it to be. He wanted to always have Draco's arms around him. He always wanted these kisses. He wanted the moment to last forever. He wanted--
In an attempt to step closer to the blonde, Harry's feet got tangled in his trousers, and he tipped over, taking Draco with him. They landed side by side on the hard tiled floor, each chuckling. "Should've removed the shoes," Harry told Draco in all seriousness.
"Guess so," Draco shook his head with an amused smile. "Well, it took me a while, but I figured it out."
"It did take a while," Harry agreed, gently rubbing two fingers back and forth across Draco's thigh.
The blonde was silent for a moment before saying, "You know, this inspired me to be festive next year." He met Harry's gaze. "Then it'll be your turn to figure it out."
Grinning wickedly, Harry pinched Draco's thigh. "You're on."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
If only *all* holidays could end up that way... Steamy, right? I don't even know where this idea came from, but I just *had* to write it! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review! I love my reviews almost as much as I love my HP books (believe me, that's a hell of a lot of love)!
