Flirt by xErised
Innuendo
The spotlights shone down on them relentlessly, writhing hotly against glazed, sleek bodies. Oiled, smooth expanse of skin sparkled as though dusted with glittery stars as the women pranced and twirled their way across the catwalk in an undulating trail of avant-garde couture, like how a necklace would unravel all the way down to their pearls. Accessories such as rhinestone bracelets and chunky rings winked coquettishly from the willowy limbs of the models.
The air swelled with the scent of opulence, pleasure and of course, the fecundity of sheer, domineering money. From Draco's vantage point, he could see the rich and the famous ensconced in cozy little circles of part-conversation and part-bragging at the pier. Wives compared the size of their diamond rings and their wardrobe, each barbed insult cleverly hidden behind their counterfeit smiles and cutting eyes. Their husbands, on the other hand, stood just out of earshot of their wives while they, similarly, boasted, but about their own stashed-away mistresses.
Thumbprints of pomegranate cloud lingered stubbornly in the sky, nothing but mere dregs of the sunset. Draco tipped his head back and finished off the last remnants of his champagne, but before he even could place the glass down, a waiter had swiftly appeared out of nowhere and refreshed his glass.
Only two people were present in the highest level of the Muggle ship: Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, one an upcoming fashion designer whose radical outfits were the latest trend and so in vogue and another an equally rising star in the hospitality industry.
Both ex-Slytherins were safely sequestered away from the hoi polloi. Draco could only hear the muffled, thumping bass from the music below them and the gentle lapping of waves against the dock.
Pansy pursed her lips in mild irritation, her sharp eyes hooking onto one particular model.
"She's wearing the sodding thing all wrong! The ribbon's supposed to be on the other side, sweet Merlin! How many bloody times have I told them, those imbeciles!" The brunette huffed angrily. Without preamble, she picked up a pencil on the table and began to sketch, her hand a blur with each frolic and frill of evening wear.
Seeing the agitation on his friend's face, Draco chuckled and leaned back into his cushioned chair. Crystal earrings, so long that they skimmed the slender curves of her neck, dangled extravagantly from Pansy's earlobes. Her hair was styled smartly into a short, no-nonsense bob, and there was only a minimal amount of make-up on her features. Her nails were kept short and sensible, decorated with careless, yet artful splodges of vibrant blue, red and yellow.
Pansy tilted her head and continued to outline her design. She crossed her legs and thoughtlessly worked her sandal loose, a wayward strap sliding between her toes.
Draco knew that that meant Pansy was concentrating hard, so he wisely kept quiet and enjoyed the ambience. He had always known Pansy would eventually become a designer. Back when they were still in Hogwarts, it was uncanny how Pansy could just come up with an eclectic mix of outfits that, even to Draco's practiced eye for fashion, would never work well together, yet when she wore it, it just seemed to… fit.
Gradually, the stroke and rhythm of Pansy's hand decelerated as she placed the finishing touches on her drawing.
"Are you free tomorrow evening? I'm hosting a dinner," Draco asked, a long fingernail tracing the rim of his wine glass judiciously.
"Who'll be there?" Pansy replied in a distracted tone while she valiantly tried to rub away a dirty smudge on the paper.
"Well... the usual. Millicent, Theodore, Greg and... Blaise," Draco ended in a croon, dangling Blaise's name craftily like a wanton treat. The blond knew that Pansy had always had a soft spot for Blaise. True to the blond's suspicions, Pansy blinked and paused in her rubbing, her ears pricked with interest.
"Oh really. He's back in town?" Pansy asked lightly, the exclamation in her voice camouflaged. But Draco didn't miss the way her eyes lit up like twin beacons, the tell-tale twinkle giving her attentiveness away.
"He's just returned from Italy, having made a proper name for himself as a prominent wine connoisseur. And yes, he's staying for good this time. It's just such a shame that you're probably going back to Tokyo after this," Draco sighed plaintively. He loved spending time with Pansy; her bubbly, lively presence rejuvenated him. She never failed to give him a good laugh whenever he needed it, and Draco just… missed Pansy whenever she wasn't around.
"Well…" Pansy shrugged dismissively, although her lips were curved in a cryptic smile while she flexed her slim fingers like a world-class pianist. "How're things with you? Any new boyfriends about to crawl out of the woodwork, hmmm?" she teased, planting both elbows firmly on the edge of the table and fixing Draco with a searing look.
"Just the… usual," Draco waved his wrist in the air dismissively, but Pansy grinned when his other hand reached up and toyed blankly with his earlobe, a distinguishing motion that Draco made whenever he was hiding something.
"You're lying, Draco darling," she trilled victoriously, pouncing on the blond's weak point with the speed and accuracy of a snake on its prey. Pansy smirked triumphantly in the direction of Draco's wandering fingers.
"Oh, darn," Draco exhaled noisily in annoyance as he immediately folded his arms. "I'm kind of… dating Potter right now," he mumbled, fighting to keep his blush at bay when he heard Pansy's indignant squawks of surprise. He couldn't help the small smile that inadvertently illuminated his face when he simply thought of Harry. Without missing a beat, he quickly outlined their two-month arrangement.
"Potter. Scarface. Never in a million years, Draco," Pansy mused, a contemplative thumb grazing her jaw as she thought of the unlikely pairing. But slowly, a naughty, Pansy-like sheen seeped into her eyes, and she waited purposefully until Draco took a mouthful of champagne before speaking again, her voice a playful chirp and stewing with mischief.
"How's he like in bed? Big dick?"
Draco's eyes instantly went round with consternation, the champagne sluicing down the wrong way. He gasped for breath, and Pansy giggled, leaning over to bash him heartily on the back.
"Have you been listening, woman?! There will be no physical intimacy between the two of us, none at all! It's what was agreed on right from the start! " Draco practically hollered when he regained his voice. Pansy, in return, raised her palms innocently.
"Potter's not morphed into a monster throughout the years, hasn't he? He was quite… decent-looking, in a scruffy, midgety sort of way," Pansy wrinkled her nose.
"No, he's become a rather… attractive man, actually," Draco mumbled, averting his eyes from Pansy's inquisitive ones. It was disconcerting how she could read him like an open book.
"Then it doesn't make sense! You're not known for being a prude, honey. It's so obvious that you want to rip his clothes off and bonk his brains out, but yet you're holding yourself back. I don't understand… oh! The only time when you don't want to rush the physical bit is when you think that it's… special, isn't it? That it could… last?! It was the same when you were dating Labelle-" Pansy picked up in a heated ramble but stopped short when Draco channeled a formidable glare in her direction. The blond frowned and looked away, out to the mingling crowd beneath them.
As if on cue, his eyes sharpened and he caught a glimpse of Pietro Labelle, working the crowd effortlessly. He was dressed immaculately in a fitting, tailored suit that matched his eyes and skin tone perfectly. A visible jolt rippled through Draco and he gulped.
It wasn't difficult to pick the man out; his hair was blond, almost as platinum blond as Draco's own hair, but slightly darker, like the tempting shade of spun gold. Draco could still remember how Pietro's hair, all silkyhotsexualthickwet had felt in his hands when they were in the shower when they were still together, blissful strands of pure golden strands leaking out in between his fingers when he was sucking Draco off- oh God- and those memories, each coy lick, each contained moan and strangled groan surfacing forth from the brutal riptide of Draco's long-neglected libido-
Pietro still retained that arrogant swagger that only the truly affluent could accomplish and that superior, know-it-all sneer that even Draco couldn't top. Blue eyes, as sharp as switchblades sought out hesitant grey eyes, and Draco gripped it's like he knows I'm looking at him- the arms of his chair tight. Armed with a dangerous barracuda smile and those iceberg-cold eyes eviscerating Draco into uselessness with every passing second, Pietro inclined his head foxily towards Draco and raised his wine glass in haughty acknowledgment.
"That's enough, Draco," Pansy barked sharply, slamming a palm down on Draco's arm sternly. The blond closed his eyes shakily and scowled darkly, berating himself harshly for that severe lapse of judgment. Labelle and he were done, and there was absolutely no need to open that Pandora's Box of tediousness and tears.
"Is he right for you?" Pansy said quietly. Draco's eyebrows drew dully together before Pansy quickly rephrased her question. "I meant Potter. Not…" she trailed off, jerking her head towards Labelle.
"I don't think it matters right now. It might not work out in the end, you know. It's just… a trial period."
"If you say so," she said uncertainly, then spontaneously perked up and rattled Draco's hand urgently. "Remember that I told you I've got a surprise for you?" With that, Pansy took a deep breath and a dramatic pause, before bursting out shrilly, "I'm moving back to London!"
Draco blinked slowly in disbelief. "W-What? You mean it?! You're not going back to Tokyo?! You're staying?!" To that, Pansy nodded stoutly, her own lips forming a wide grin.
"That's brilliant! That's absolutely brilliant, Pansy!" the blond announced, reaching over suddenly and hugging his oldest friend with all his might. Pansy reciprocated the affection with double the strength, and they pulled away, laughing. But it wasn't long before Pansy's eyes took on a sober gleam.
"A year. That's all it'll take for the both of us to be properly rich. I won't be doing pathetic shows like this anymore, sharing the limelight with two other designers whose collections are practically rags compared to mine," Pansy hissed vindictively as she eyed said two designers narrowly. "I want to have my own show where they'll showcase nothing but my own creations, where all the rich, fat bitches will be clamoring like mad to buy my works of art," Pansy continued, her voice dropping to a poisonous snarl, "And they won't dare to outfit my models in the horrid way that they did tonight, all straps twisted and fabric wrinkled and hair and jewelry all wrong.
"And you, Draco darling, you'll take over London, Paris, maybe even more countries by storm. You'll tolerate only the luxury hotels, the boutique hotels where all your guests are going to be pampered and indulged like there's no tomorrow with state of the art equipment and facilities and impeccable service from the staff. It's where everyone who's anyone will go to unwind and relax after counting their millions of Galleons, Draco. It's going to be fabu. Don't you think so?"
And in that connection, Draco could see the undiluted hunger that shone in Pansy's sparkling eyes, the trademark thirst of power that befitted every Slytherin. In his mind's eye, he conjured images of outrageous amounts of money sickles knuts galleons I want it all!- building up in their own chasmal coffers. Each honey-coated word slithering from Pansy's mouth was like a reachable fantasy, surging and swirling in his stomach like an unquenchable craving.
Because that was what life was about, wasn't it?
If you had money, you had connections. With connections, you had power. And with power…
You could do whatever you wanted.
Say it out loud: money. It might only be a simple word with two syllables, but the effect it had on people was paramount.
You could buy friends, you could buy love, you could buy every single thing. You could make business partners stab each other in the back by simply passing money under the table; you could make even the most faithful wives waver in their stalwart devotion to their husbands when they lost everything eventually. You could bring past enemies down to their knees with power. It was a horrible, churning web of deceit and subterfuge, where lie by destructive lie unwound like tapeworms, where the hottest, most promiscuous wizards and witches blew hot and cold, depending on how Galleons you had to your name.
And Draco loved every single moment of it.
"One year," Draco repeated gravely before the intimidating duo clinked their glasses together, their eyes burning feverishly.
Draco saw in Pansy the equivalent of what he himself wanted out of life, the desire, the all-consuming, almost ridiculous greed to amass accomplishment because it will never be enough; you've got to be the richest of the rich, the crème de la crème- and achievement to unbelievable proportions. They were eager with ambitious potential, crowned with the sheer determination and ruthless cunning to reach that ultimate goal.
In short, they were the very embodiment of Slytherins.
but what happens when you pair up a perfect Slytherin with a perfect Gryffindor-
It was nice to see that Harry had tried to spruce the place up a bit.
Draco stepped neatly out from the Floo at the Weasley household, lifting his shoulders marginally to dust remaining Floo powder away. His eye was caught immediately by a vase stuffed full of splendid sunflowers in a brilliant shade of sunshine yellow, their faces turned happily towards the brightly lit windows. The whole house wasn't huge, but it was enough to support a family of four.
A well-used couch lay strategically in the middle of the living room, facing a decently-sized Muggle television. A variety of books and magazines were stacked neatly on the polished coffee table, and Draco curiously inspected it, but was careful not to touch anything. There was a mixture of Quidditch magazines, Witch Weekly, past and current publications of The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler. There were also a handful of moderately thick textbooks of Potions and Charms, ranging from intermediate to elementary difficulty which obviously belonged to the two young Weasley kids.
A Muggle laptop perched on its usual spot on another smaller table, and Draco regarded it with narrowed eyes. He wandered further into the house, meticulously disturbing nothing. The blond gave a cursory glance to a clock mounted on the clean light-blue walls, but back-tracked when he noticed something unique about it. The names of all four Weasleys were emblazoned across the hands of the clock. Instead of numbers, there were actually various locations studded along the face of the timepiece, such as 'Work', 'School', 'Grandma Weasley', 'Grandma Granger' and 'Uncle Harry'. It was clearly not a professionally created object, since the words, scrawled in multi-colored crayon were bumpy and messy, as though a young child had written it.
Right now, all four hands were pointed towards 'Fun!!!'
After staring at this rather puzzling contraption for a short moment, Draco shrugged and moved on. The dining table, a short distance away from the kitchen, had five placemats on it instead of four, and Draco suspected that the extra one was for Harry. A little bit further from the dining area stood a majestic and lovingly polished piano, its mantle crowded with snapshots of the Weasley family. His attention stirred, Draco silently walked towards the instrument and gazed at the photos.
There were pictures of Weasley and Granger's wedding and honeymoon. Hermione was resplendent in a long, frilly, snow-white wedding gown, topped off with a sparkling tiara on her head. Beside her, Ron, looking rather smart himself in his tux, had his arm wrapped tenderly around his bride. They were surrounded by flowers of all shapes, colors and sizes, each petal and stem fit for a fairy tale. Hermione alternated between looking down shyly at the bouquet in her hands and smiling up at her husband in the moving photograph.
There were photos of birthdays, of family gatherings, of more weddings, anniversaries, more birthdays and every little thing Draco could think of. Each Weasley child was paired with their significant other and their children, and Draco was rather shocked to see a group photo of the whole Weasley clan, all twenty-two of them. Harry featured very regularly in the pictures, and he looked right at home with the rest of the redheads.
The doors of all the rooms were closed, and Draco knew that he wasn't allowed to enter. However, Draco couldn't help but smile when he spied a neglected soft toy abandoned sadly on the floor. Draco picked it up and turned it over in his hands, his brow crumpling questioningly when he noticed the name 'Pooh' embellished on the yellow bear. He snorted derisively. Who would name a bear Pooh, for Merlin's sake?
Despite himself, Draco cooed softly and gave Pooh's squishy paw one last squeeze before placing it on the piano chair.
"Hey there."
Draco turned so fast he almost lost his balance. Making sure that he was hiding the bear from view playing with toys, Draco, how childish can you get?!-, the blond gave Harry a small smile and strolled towards him.
Harry was leaning casually against the entrance of the kitchen, his ankles and arms crossed nonchalantly. His own caramel-sweet smile surfacing on his lips, Harry motioned for Draco to follow him.
Draco paused, hesitance creeping up within him.
"We're not cooking, are we? For your information, Malfoys don't cook," Draco called out, poking his head unceremoniously into the kitchen. He lowered his eyes to the clean kitchen floor, looking at it as though it was a deadly minefield. He then eyed the big hunk of metal that was a Muggle refrigerator and some funny-looking kitchen apparatus. Scattered on the counter was flour and eggs and trays and-
Ooh, chocolate.
Keeping his tendency to drool whenever he came across chocolate in check, Draco wrinkled his nose and stepped over the threshold to the kitchen. Harry was whistling a jaunty tune while he washed a mixing bowl before toweling it dry.
"We're baking, Potter? How… quaint. Where's everyone?" Draco asked as an afterthought, his arms folded in a show of reserve.
"They're off at the zoo. I've got to use Hermione's kitchen 'cos I don't have all this stuff at home. Rather new equipment, actually," Harry shot Draco a crooked grin and gestured to the rather… television-like thing beside Draco. "And baking's different from cooking to me, so I've got my bases all covered."
Upon seeing the incredulous expression on Draco's face, Harry quickly tried to pacify the other man. "It's dead easy. It's just mixing of all the ingredients and bashing them in the oven over there. And the end product is brilliant, trust me," the brunette soothed, winking cheekily at Draco.
"But that's so… plebeian, so commonplace! We could just go down to the shops and get some muffins or cookies, if that's what you're after!" Draco protested hotly, warily eyeing the cookie tray that Harry plonked down on the table.
"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry said sweetly, a hint of an oh-so-familiar taunt underlying his words. And just like that, Draco could feel the volatility and turbulence of their initial enmity materializing, the childish need to be better than the other-
"You wish," Draco shot back in return, his teeth clenched. He hurried over to the sink, rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands in a flurry, all the while mumbling darkly to himself. Behind him, Harry grinned secretly and silently punched the air victoriously.
Yay, result!
When Draco stormed over to Harry's side, the ex-Gryffindor placated Draco with a light pat on the bum, leading to Draco pushing his hand away, but no one could miss the hot blush spreading over his alabaster cheeks.
Harry placed the mixing bowl and eggs in front of Draco and instructed him to crack the eggs.
Draco replied by fixing Harry with an expectant look.
Harry further responded by widening his eyes slightly and tilting his head, indicating the eggs with a meaningful look.
"Don't look at me like I'm some dimwit, Potter! I know what you mean, but where's the egg-cracker? There's got to be some egg-cracker, isn't there?! If not the shells will get in the mixture, no?"
Disbelievingly, Harry reached over, grabbed the egg, whacked it inelegantly over the rim of the bowl and cracked it open in a fluid motion. He repeated it for all the eggs, tossed the egg shells in the bin and wiped his hands on the cloth, his features alight with amazement the whole time. The superior look on Draco's face wilted when he peered down at the eggs and failed to see any pieces of egg shell, no matter how miniscule, at all.
"You haven't done anything like this before?"
"This is the first bloody time I've stepped into a kitchen, for sod's sake! All the cooking was done by the house elves when I was still living in the manor, and I don't have my own kitchen at home!" Draco flared up, hating the inferior way this revelation made him seem like a cosseted and spoilt boy.
"Hey, it's fine. We'll do it slowly. No worries," Harry quickly assuaged, gesturing to the various ingredients that were already weighed. "You just have to add and mix them, that's all."
"That sounds easy enough," Draco conceded, but his words hitched into a gasp when Harry stepped up behind him, his body a bit too close for comfort.
"Maybe I'd better… move closer, just in case," the brunette whispered mischievously.
Draco was about to retort that Harry didn't really need to practically hump him to give him verbal instructions, and that Draco could bloody well hear him if Harry stood all the way out in the sodding living room, but his voice caught in his throat when Harry let his hands slide smoothly down the curves of Draco's body before resting placidly on his bony hips. Draco froze, his hands gripping the edges of the mixing bowl so hard that his knuckles went white. The blond's heart was like a delirious creature running when grey eyes gazed up uncertainly in Harry's eyes. When he saw a seductive glitter of jade captured between Harry's lashes, Draco quickly looked back down at the mixing bowl, astonished at how darn hot this was-
No, Draco, you cannot fan yourself!
Harry shifted closer until the slopes of his marvelously chiseled chest were pressed flush against Draco's back, and Draco felt his blood pressure jump by fits and starts, his pulse speeding up from normal to erratic. Harry's sheer aggressiveness was turning Draco on, and it suddenly dawned on Draco that the both of them were completely alone, ooh-
"Sugar," Harry murmured.
What? Was that some sort of pet name that Harry came up with? Oh no, there definitely wouldn't be any sugar or babycakes or cupcake at this stage, if Harry thought that that was fine with Draco, he had another think coming, that randy little monster-
"Add the sugar, Draco," Harry repeated with a slightly confused expression on his face.
His face flaming, the blond swiftly and gracelessly dumped the sugar in the bowl and mashed it into the eggs rather violently. Draco was glad that he had something to distract him from the close proximity of Harry's body.
"It gets pretty easy when you've done it a few times. Combine everything, shape it into cookies and then bake it. It's basically all the same stuff. It's like dating, actually. After you've held hands, it's only natural to want to… hug, isn't it? And what happens after hugging?" Harry murmured naughtily, his eyes hungry and hot as he trained a sexually potent gaze onto Draco that was so hot and lingering that it was a wonder that Harry's glasses didn't spontaneously combust. They were breathing in shallow, furious synchronization, and it was like the very air around them was waiting with bated breath for Draco's answer.
"After hugging comes… kissing," Draco faltered, biting back a moan when he felt Harry wrap his arms possessively around his waist. It was a whole new state of consciousness, the way his entire body went all warm, liquid and incompetent under that simple touch, the way desire scythed frantically across his skin, the way it was as though his body was swaddled in liquid electricity, complete with sparks and flickers firing in his nerve endings, this was insane, this was going to drive him crazy-
"Kissing, eh?" Harry echoed impudently, leaning in further 'cause you want my kiss all over your lips-
Draco's scent was like a silken breeze to Harry, sweeter than any pastry that Harry had ever smelt. But he didn't like how skinny Draco was; he could feel Draco's sharp shoulder blades digging into his own chest, he could feel the ex-Slytherin's ribs easily under his palms as he swept his hands up and down Draco's waist.
The brunette gently tipped Draco's head back, exposing his pale throat. Grazing his lips breezily across the side of Draco's neck, Harry smiled against alabaster skin when Draco let out a purr as delicious and luscious like gooey, indulgent chocolate drizzled over cream. But that purr was more than enough to wake Draco up from his lust-addled condition. Draco's half-lidded grey eyes were glittering oddly, his lips pulled rigidly into a clipped line while he tried to erase the light-hued blush that crested tellingly on the tops of his cheekbones.
It only took mere seconds for Draco to wriggle out of Harry's grasp.
When Harry reluctantly let go of Draco, it was as though all of his nerve endings heaved their shoulders and sighed in disappointment.
"I need to… wash my hands," Draco blurted, but Harry could see that the other man's hands were only dusted with slivers of flour. Scratching his head, Harry wondered whether he had crossed the line. No physical intimacy. That wasn't very… intimate, wasn't it?
"Let's finish it up, shall we? And you can stand here," Draco said pointedly, indicating a distance that was civilly comfortable. A merest shadow of a smile flitted on Draco's lips, softening the rejection of before.
And so, they spent the next fifteen minutes finishing up the cookies with no sexy distractions whatsoever. Draco smacked Harry admonishingly on the wrist when Harry tried to sneak bites of cookie dough. In return, Harry smeared melted chocolate on Draco's cheeks. Draco, his features in a pretense of mock anger, flung handfuls of flour towards Harry and ended up in bouts of giggles when Harry's black hair was sprinkled liberally with a shower of flour.
When they were done, Harry made an apprehensive Draco "what if it eats my hand?!" put the tray in the oven. But it wasn't long before Draco, having squealed and scampered behind Harry when the oven made a series of unnatural whirring noises, popped his head out from behind Harry's shoulder and tiptoed cautiously to the machine.
"The color's changing!" Draco said, awe-struck when he moved closer to the oven. "And it smells so good!" The blond's face was just inches away from the screen of the oven, and Harry smiled fondly at a surprisingly child-like Draco before taking his hand and tugging him away.
"Don't go too near."
"What? Why? It seems fine, doesn't it? Unless it… explodes? Has it exploded before, Harry? I bet it has, hasn't it?!" Draco squeaked, his voice escalating with every worry. With that, Draco darted back and took cover behind Harry.
"Merlin, going out with you is like some life-threatening adventure. Death by ice-skating and exploding ovens," Draco quipped, his grey eyes round with faint alarm as he peeked out guardedly from the spaces between his fingers.
"Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" Harry turned and shot Draco a flirtatious wink before trotting off towards Hermione's fridge.
The blond followed, his head cocked in curiosity. When Harry stretched his head and arms into the cavernous depths of the fridge, Draco inhaled sharply when he noticed how much space the fridge had.
"Yep, the fridge's been tampered with. Mr. Weasley managed to increase the capacity of it by magic. It's kinda like the tents at the Quidditch World Cup," Harry explained, his voice muffled as he rifled through the contents of the fridge.
"Hermione needs the space, what with Ron to feed and everything," Harry laughed, but Draco was too busy scoping out Harry's fit body updownsidewayseverywhere. The ex-Gryffindor's shoulders slid and puckered fluidly underneath his shirt while he shifted lamb chops and chicken breasts here and there. The pair of Levis clung and hugged the brunette's bum and thighs wonderfully. Draco licked his lips lasciviously, feeling the lustwantneed and everything in between surging in him like a high-speed elevator-
"Found it!" Harry announced grandly as he brandished a tub of ice-cream triumphantly.
Even before Harry could set it out on the dining table, Draco grabbed the ice-cream from him and read the label, an eyebrow raised.
"Ben & Jerry's: Strawberry Cheesecake. What's so special about it? It's just… ice-cream," Draco scoffed, turning his nose up at the Muggle brand.
"Famous last words," Harry grinned affably, brushing the dig off. "The cookies are almost done, so I'll just scoop the ice-cream out first. And you, my doubting Thomas, will get first taste," the brunette said, pointing at Draco with a spoon. With that, Harry began to gouge out great spoonfuls of the frozen treat. Normally, Draco would probably have protested at the huge quantity, but the blond was transfixed by the sinewy muscles that shifted underneath Harry's arms as he burrowed the spoon into the ice-cream.
An unruly lock of black hair flipped across one eye and his tongue stuck out between his teeth in concentration. Harry's left hand gripped the carton of ice-cream, while the other held tightly onto the spoon. Draco, pretending to rub his eyes, furtively gazed at the veins that jutted beneath Harry's bronzed skin. He noticed that Harry was giving him all the chunky and best bits and keeping the rest of the un-chunky ice-cream for himself.
Strong, thoughtful, and sexy as hell, Draco summarized, resisting the urge to sigh dreamily and check out every hot, supple inch of Harry blatantly with his greedy eyes. When Harry was done, he nudged the bowl towards Draco, and it was only then that the blond registered the ragged mountain of ice-cream in front of him.
"It's too much, I can't finish all of this-"
"We're sharing, don't worry," Harry replied from the kitchen. Draco heard the loud click of the refrigerator door and the metallic beep from the oven. Draco winced when he saw the small, sticky pool of melting ice-cream. He remembered how ice-cream had been one of his favorite desserts when he had been young, but it had been so long ever since he had dared to wallow in such a… debauched confectionery.
Harry unloaded the cookies onto a cooling tray, and Draco felt himself go a bit light-headed at the divine scent that practically beckoned him to reach a hand out and take a bite. Pushing that stray thought away, Draco bit his lip hesitantly, his hand still maintaining a rigor mortis grip it's all junk food, nothing but junk food- on the spoon and his eyes cloudy with trepidation.
But when Harry broke up two of the biggest cookies into pieces and dunked them happily in the waiting ice-cream, Draco could feel his ill-placed resolve softening like butter in the sun and the voice of reason slowly fading away into oblivion. It was a morsel of smooth, mouth-watering decadence, and Draco moaned when he swallowed the irresistible combination of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.
It was a completely new sound that Draco made, a cross between a moan and a sigh that hinted dangerous levels of bliss, and Harry had to surreptitiously adjust the front of his jeans when he stared unabashedly at Draco's facial expression. His brow was furrowed and his grey eyes were closed in sheer ecstasy. His tongue, positively teeming with innuendo, was furiously licking the delicate arc of his own lips to capture every droplet of liquid ice-cream. And it didn't help that it was vanilla, which looked like-
"I think I just saw your orgasm face," Harry breathed, his eyes still shamelessly fondling every crevice and curve of Draco's features. The blond's eyes immediately snapped open, the expression of sublime happiness that was initially poised on his face evaporating.
"How would you know? You've never seen me have an orgasm before," Draco said lightly, his voice tinged with a smattering of humor.
"I can give you one now if you'd like-" Harry suggested slyly, but was instantly silenced when Draco placed a finger on Harry's lips, an eyebrow raised chidingly. Not to be discouraged, Harry flagrantly dragged the very tip of his tongue up the length of Draco's finger. He tasted like powdered sugar, sweetening his lips, but before Harry could go for another lick, Draco, who had suddenly gone all pink, quickly withdrawn his hand.
"What've you got next? A Muggle movie?" Draco said, firmly reining the conversation in to safer waters. The two proper dates that they had gone through were simply so… impossible and unexpected. If someone had told Draco that he would enjoy doing such mundane, corny things like baking and picnicking, things which Muggle couples did, Draco would have sneered jeeringly. But the bottom line was that Harry had taken a risk, and Draco found himself actually… enjoying the refreshing nature of each date.
"No, that's not part of the agenda. But well, it's my birthday next Friday, and I think the boys are planning something for me. They refuse to tell me anything, but it'll be brilliant if you're there on my birthday," Harry said hopefully in between munches, already polishing off his third cookie.
Draco paused, his features hardening into a small frown. He only knew a handful of Harry's friends, and he wasn't exactly on first-name basis with them.
"I'll think about it," Draco remarked blandly, giving a non-committal shrug.
"This is for you," Harry said rather shyly after shooting off to the kitchen and rushing back to the Weasley Floo before Draco returned home. In his hands was a basket with a whole smorgasbord of treats ranging from blueberry muffins and stacks of jam drops to the fresh batch of cookies that the both of them had prepared that day.
Draco's knee-jerk reaction was to refuse it and say that he had eaten more than enough food for today, but his words dried up in shock when he realized how much work Harry had put in. There was a beautiful yellow silk bow and a puff of white ribbon fixed at the top of the handle that arced gracefully over the wicker basket, along with twined tendrils of petals cobbled together that trailed down the sides of the handle. There were bright yellow daisies that reminded Draco of little sunshine rays, together with morning glories the lush purple of aubergines.
Tiny edible flowers the vivacious colors of peony-pink and lavender festooned the base of the basket. Placed carefully on the brownies and muffins were wafer-thin milk chocolate butterflies with skilful drips and dabs of white chocolate on their wings to create a lovely pattern.
It was a beautiful arrangement, there was no doubt about it, but to Draco it was a crowded decoration with absolutely no style. It had some semblance of organization, but only if you squinted really really closely.
Draco moved his gaze upwards and caught sight of the brunette worrying his lip nervously and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose clumsily. There was still flour caught in his scruffy hair and the sides of his neck.
Yes, the decoration was messy, tasteless and garish, but it was so adorable and so very… Harry, Draco thought, smiling inwardly.
"Harry, it's a wonderful gift, but I can't finish all of this. It's too much for me," Draco said softly, hating the guilt he felt when he pushed the basket back towards Harry. The brunette's face fell and he looked down at his shoes, crestfallen.
"Share it with Millicent! I've put a Preservation Charm on it; it'll stay fresh for two weeks. You could put it in the office and snack on it when you're hungry-"
"Harry, please-"
"I've seen how you don't eat whenever you go out with me. I don't know why, and whenever I try to ask you about it you simply change the topic. You barely touched the cookies just now, even though it was so obvious that you liked chocolate!
"Maybe… maybe you've got your own reasons, and I really don't want to pry. I don't need to ask to know that you probably don't eat much too when you're working. I can't do much short of dragging you out of the office and forcing you to go to lunch with me, and I think you wouldn't want that. It'll make me feel better if I know that there's food within easy reach, so you don't have to go hungry," Harry explained agitatedly, running a hand uncontrollably through his hair.
"Draco, let me… let me take care of you, please?" His voice lowered to a beseeching implore, Harry extended the basket towards Draco again.
The blond hesitated, marveling at how devoted and earnest Harry was. Having the cookies would be like having a secret delight that would be with him the whole week long-
Let me take care of you, please?
"I- Alright," Draco acquiesced, bowing his head demurely. He was smiling so hard so this is… this is how it feels when someone cares about you, it feels… brilliant- that he felt the lower half of his face might simply drop off. This slow, intense romance, this snowball of affection blossoming up between them was almost too good to be true. There was this… lust that was like a panther, stalking them blink and you'll miss it- stealthily. Yet, at times, it morphed into something bigger, something better that swamped them in an uncontrollable wave, making Draco lose hold of his inhibitions-
When Draco reached over to take the basket from Harry, the brunette smiled genially, a beatific smile of happiness adorning his mouth. Green and grey melded from the heat of their shared gaze, and Draco took a step closer to the other man.
"Harry, I… don't know whatever it is that we've got between us… but I… I like it," Draco whispered bashfully, his pale cheeks infused with a soft rosy tinge.
With that, Harry gently brought Draco's wrist up to his lips and planted a kiss on the back of his hand before replying quietly.
"Me too, Draco, me too."
/tbc
Pat yourself on the back because you've just endured the most boring chapters of Flirt. Things are going to be moving a lot faster from Chapter Five onwards, meaning that chapters will get longer (I don't know whether that's a good or bad thing to you guys). /grin
For starters, Harry and Draco seem to be a bit too happy for my liking.
Looks like it's about time to mess things up.
Please do review!