Time of Your Life
One-shot
Standard disclaimers apply.
-HD-
Pansy had said, or whined actually, "God Draco, you don't go out anymore. We used to have so much fun clubbing and getting smashed and checking out hot arses. But now you've become so boring, always staying at home! Potter's domesticated you, Draco. It's not just the same."
That was true. He had gone to many wild parties with Pansy, hitting every club, getting royally drunk and going home at the wee hours of the morning, where he had to nurse a splitting headache when he woke up.
Now, though, everything was different. He had Harry. He was in love. And Draco just didn't want to spend his time dancing with nameless blokes with, admittedly, hot arses, and getting pissed on a nightly basis when he had the hottest arse waiting for him at home. Draco didn't really mind the change. In fact, he was even relieved by it (though the domesticated thing was maybe a bit too much).
But, as Draco found out, Pansy didn't approve of it at all. Pansy had never really approved of his relationship with Harry in the first place, because he was always 'Potter' to her. Just like he'd always be 'Malfoy' to Ron and Hermione and vice versa.
Secretly, Draco thought that it was because Pansy was lonely. Not lonely that she didn't have anyone to go clubbing with, but lonely in the sense that she didn't have a loving smile to come home to after the end of the day. Draco wished Pansy would find someone to cherish her, that she would cherish back, and for every second was grateful that he had Harry.
Not that he and Harry didn't go out. They did, but mostly to those all-important Ministry get-togethers that they couldn't get out of, or eat at their favorite restaurants or watch movies and other fun things together. They even sometimes, though rarely, go to clubs and dance the night away but Draco realized early on that he'd rather they danced in their own flat, where certain activities that wasn't polite to perform in public places was easily done within close distance to the bed, or their wide couch, and even against the wall or floor.
Maybe what Pansy was complaining about was that Draco and Harry did all these things together. Draco knew it wasn't because Pansy was jealous of Harry, because Pansy just didn't do that. It really was just because she found it disturbing – and annoying – that Draco would rather spend time playing Scrabble with Harry than in some hot, noisy, exciting club.
Pansy had also said, "You're still so young Draco. You don't have to spend every fucking second with Potter. Who knows, maybe you're missing the time of your life while you're at home, cooking or something."
To which Draco had responded that even if he was a bit domesticated, he still wouldn't wear an apron and cook. And the fact that he was absolute crap at it.
But really, Pansy didn't understand at all.
Like now, for instance.
Harry was sitting at one of the couch, watching his favorite show (that gruff-looking doctor bloke with the cane) with Draco spread out on the couch, his head resting on Harry's lap and reading a book. Harry's fingers were running through the blond silk.
It wasn't exactly a raving party with pulsing music and wild dancing, but Draco was content.
A commercial came on and Harry gently eased Draco's head to the sofa as he stood up. "I'm gonna get a sandwich. Want one?" Harry asked, walking towards the kitchen.
Draco propped himself up with his elbows, watching Harry's arse sway as he walked. "Hmm, not really."
His lover disappeared into the kitchen and he could be heard rummaging through the fridge. "Oooh, turkey," Draco heard him mutter and grinned.
The grin turned into a very wicked smile as he slowly sat up. "Hey, Harry? Do we still have any ice cream left?" He dog-eared the page he was on and placed the book on the glass table.
"Uh…yeah."
He slowly got up. "And whipped cream as well?"
More rummaging. "Let's see…yep, there's still some. Why?"
"Well…"
What Pansy didn't understand was that with Harry, Draco was always having the time of his life.
"…I'm suddenly very, very hungry."
-HD-