Title: A Midnight Snack
Author: mindfunk
Rating: R
Summary: Harry has bad dreams, and Draco has had enough.
Warnings: Slash - don't whine at me if you're a homophobic freak who didn't bother to read the warning.
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to JK Rowling and those to whom she's licensed them. I don't own anything, and I'm not making any money off nicking HP people, places or things and writing a story about them.
Notes:Darkasphodel requested crackfic involving Draco humoring Harry and searching the house for Voldemort, even going to far as to search in thepantry under the gnocchi noodles. This is the unfortunate result.
"It was real! It felt real, too real to be just a dream!" Harry insisted, his hands clutchingdesperately at the sheets bunched around his waist.
"Harry, I'm telling you it was just a dream. Would I lie to you ... well, about something like this?" Draco sighed and ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair.
The two men were sitting up in their bed in the middle of the night, having been awakened once again by one of Harry's irrational nightmares. In the two years since the war had ended, he had dreamed of Voldemort's return at least a dozen times, and it always had that frightening quality that made Harry convinced that he was having a vision rather than just a simple dream. Draco had tried to convince his lover that these events were just dreams, the logical by-product of fighting Voldemort since the age of one. He'd remind Harry that nasty old Moldy Voldy was dead, having shuffled off this mortal coil at Harry's own hand in front of Draco and half the wizarding world in what turned out to be a vaguely anticlimatic fashion. Harry had pointed his wand, said the magic words, and Voldemort had dropped dead in a flash of green light. It may have left everyone milling about the battlefield asking each other, "Is that it?" but the deed was undoubtedly done.
"Where was he this time?" Draco asked, attempting to be supportive even though he thought the whole thing was ridiculous.
"Here in the flat," Harry said softly, leaning back against the headboard and gazing at the ceiling. "He was hiding in the pantry, waiting for me to come in and start breakfast."
Draco stilled, his hand coming to a halt in its path smoothing up and down Harry's back.
"You're taking the piss," he said, incredulous.
"I am not!" Harry answered, slightly miffed, shifting away and crossing his arms across his bare chest.
"You think the Dark Lord has come back to life and is lurking in our bloody pantry?" Draco raised one eyebrow and stared at his possibly insane and definitely unbalanced lover in disbelief.
"Well, it sounds silly when you say it like that, but yes!" Harry answered defensively.
"Oh, this is too much!" snorted Draco, throwing off the covers and leaving the bed. He stalked to the door and then paused, turning back to the bed.
"Are you coming?"
"Coming where?" asked Harry cautiously. It was always good to get the details in advance when Draco was on a mission.
Draco stalked back to the bed, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out from under the blankets and to his feet.
"We're going down to the pantry. I'm going to prove to you for once and for all that these are just dreams and have no basis in reality!"
He continued hauling Harry out of the bedroom by his upper arm, and as they passed the dresser at a good clip, Harry reached out toward the two wands resting on its surface and said tenatively, "Don't we need our ...?" He trailed off at the icy look of disdain he receied in reply.
Draco marched Harry down the stairs and into the kitchen, swearing under his breath about stupid sodding Gryffindors and throwing on every lightswitch in the flat along the way. He continued to force Harry across the kitchen, going around the table and heading for the pantry door over in the corner.
"Draco, I don't think this is such a good idea," Harry protested. "We're unarmed, not to mention naked, and we'll be in no position to defend ourselves when ..."
"When what, Potter?" Draco snarked as they paused in front of the pantry door. "When the Dark Lord starts beating us about the head and shoulders with deadly loaves of bread? When he mercilessly pelts us with cans of baked beans? When he attempts to capture us in a cleverly constructed net made of gnocchi noodles?"
Harry managed to look sheepish and nervous at the same time, clutching Draco's hand while rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
"It was just a dream, wasn't it?" he said, biting his lip.
"Yes, Harry," Draco said, turning to take the other man into his arms. "They're all just dreams. He really is gone for good, and you don't ever have to worry about him hurting you or someone you love again."
Harry slipped his arms around Draco's neck and returned the embrace. The two men stood at the pantry door holding one another for a few moments beore Harry began to laugh.
"A net made out of gnocchi noodles?" he asked Draco, loking up into his eyes and smiling.
"You're the one who seriously thought the Dark Lord was hiding in our pantry, so you really have no room to talk," Draco sniffed imperiously. "Anyway, now that I am awake and in the kitchen, are you going to make me a snack or am I going back to bed?"
"How about both?" Harry answered, quirking an eyebrow and sliding his hands from behind his lover's neck down to cup his arse.
"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" purred Draco, letting his own hands wander a bit.
Harry nuzzled Draco's neck and replied, "How do ice cream sundaes with whipped cream, strawberries and chocolate sauce sound - minus the ice cream and the bowls?"
"My favorite," Draco replied, pulling away and heading for the kitchen doorway. "Don't forget the nuts," he said with a smirk, and disappeared through the doorway. Moments later his footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs.
Harry's weren't far behind them.