You know, there are times when I seriously hate my husband. I mean, I love him-really I do—but then, he goes and does something…like this.
We were invited to a small Hogwarts reunion. Just a few friends getting together to talk about the few good times we had, reminisce what should have been some of the best years of our lives, but didn't really turn out that way. We'd have a few ales, have a few laughs, and simply
enjoy being together. Invariably, we'd toast those who weren't here with us anymore, but that was to be expected.
So when Harry got called into the Ministry on a lovely Saturday afternoon—the same afternoon as the picnic—I was a bit grumbly about it. Who wouldn't be? I mean, seriously, Harry gives his heart and soul to the wizengamot. I should be allowed his body now and again, shouldn't I?
I had completely forgotten a few weeks ago when I wore that short skirt and then made it look to everyone else like I had on proper, modest robes. I should have known Harry wouldn't have forgotten.
So when I got to Nott' house in Ireland, I was already a bit grumpy. I gladly accepted the glass of ale that Blaise offered and plopped myself down next to pansy at a table in the shady grass and waited. Harry promised he wouldn't be long, and that he'd meet me there.
Draco and Astoria arrived not long into my first drink and I glared at my sister, wondering why he hadn't been called in today.
My bad mood evaporated quickly, however, as tracy wandered over and we began talking about the upcoming project next week in DMLE as i am an enchantress in it.
Pancy was in the middle of talking about her life with of blaise when I caught a whiff of something extremely familiar. Something that I only associated with one person.
Harry was here somewhere. I could smell his cologne. The one he wears only on special occasions. I swear he must have made it up in the back room of Potter Manor, you know, the room where harry keeps all his things that he sometimes does not allowed me to enter. Harry had to have commissioned it because, seriously, that scent is sex to me.
When I smell it, my knees began to knock together and my knickers instantly began to feel uncomfortably tight, and wet.
I look up, wondering when he'd arrived and why he hadn't come over to see me yet. But he wasn't there. He wasn't over with Ron and Hermione, who were trying to do some sort of dance over near where the wireless was playing, or over with Nott and Blaise, who were spelling glasses of ale to flash various colors, or over with draco, who was chatting up Pansy as she and milicent giggled like sixteen year olds.
Where the hell was he?
Certainly someone else couldn't be wearing his scent? The scent that simply was Harry. That would be so…wrong.
"Daphne, are you even listening?" Tracy's words turn my head back around and I stare at the group of witches who are staring back at me.
"I asked what your thinking about the meeting which is in Wednesday?"
Meeting. They're talking about Meeting.
"Oh," I answer, reaching up to wipe a bit of moisture away from my forehead. The sundress I decided to wear today is light and airy, but I can still feel the summer heat making the fabric stick to my skin. "I think we're going with a My new idea which i gave him, actually," I say, coming back to myself a bit more. Perhaps I just imagined Harry, since I want nothing more than to spend the day with him.
"The france ministry have been struggling with their new minister," I inform them. "He's a decent minister, but he's still having issues getting his timing down. We're a ministey upheld after the war, so I think we can use that to our advantage also it is profitable to my family businesses of potter-greengrass products that has been selling in france."
We talk it for another few minutes before the scent envelopes me again, making my thighs quiver.
It was him. I was sure this time. I spin in my seat, trying to get a good look through the guests.
You'd think that picking him out of a crowd wouldn't be quite so hard. Unless he was trying to blend in. I almost consider that the little sneak had shown up under his Invisibility Cloak, intent on torturing me, when Neville and Hannah moved aside from where they'd been standing for
the past few minutes. And there he was.
Harry has the unique ability to take my breath away completely at times.
And today is one of those times. How one man can look so…there isn't even a word that can define what he does to my insides…is beyond me. Honestly, he shouldn't have this sort of power over me.
And the fact that he knows he can do it makes it even worse. Vaguely, I can hear the others calling to me, asking me another question about the meeting. But I don't really care anymore.
Because Harry is wearing "The Jeans". Those jeans only come in capital letters. And in quotations. They are the ones that simply ooze sex out of every stitch and every fold.They may have once been dark denim-blue, but now they're so faded that it's almost impossible to see that color anymore. The thighs are almost white with wear. And both knees have patches hat I've lovingly sewn into them.
They are his favorite pair. And, more importantly, they are my favorite pair.
But Harry knows that. He knows that when he's away on bussiness trips, I keep those jeans in bed next to me. The first time he came home early and discovered me cuddled up with them, my face pressed into the worn fabric, was mortifying to me…until he slid them on with nothing
underneath, leaving the zip undone and…well, you can imagine what happened from there.
Now, when he leaves, those jeans are always waiting for me, along with a white button-down shirt that has seen better days, folded on his pillow.That shirt has made an appearance today as well. And the fact that his face is not clean shaven,
but showing a day's worth of stubble prove to me that he was nowhere near the Wizengamot today.
He lied to me.
But that's okay. Because he's here now.
And I have a suspicion he left the house just long enough for me to get worked up and Apparate out. And then he went back to get ready.
"Excuse me," I say to the table, ignoring if they even respond back to me. They'll forgive me. After all…surely they can see how delicious Harry looks.
My eyes find his through the milling people and he winks at me, turning around to shake hands with Nott and laugh at something Blaise is saying.
I stare at his behind as I walk toward him, taking slow steps and hoping that he'll hurry with his conversation.
There is a small worn spot on his jeans, near the left back pocket, where I can see the dark fabric of his boxers peeking out. Normally, I would scold him for wearing something like this to a party—but today I couldn't care less. Because these jeans frame his arse gloriously, making my mouth water.
Harry has an amazing arse. It's muscular and just perfectly proportioned to his body. My favorite part about it is when he's deep inside me and I wrap my hands around him, cupping each magnificent muscle in my hands and feeling him clench as he pushes in and pulls out.I've always been a very visual person and just that image in my brain makes my steps falter a bit.
"Easy there, Daphne," Neville says, reaching out to steady me before taking the remains of my glass of ale with a chuckle. "Perhaps you'd better lay off the heavy stuff." He slides a glass of lemonade into my hand and I try to smile past the dull haze that has taken up residence in my head. Hannah giggles next to Neville and gives me a knowing look. I think she saw exactly where my eyes were focused and probably could guess where my thoughts were.
"Thanks," I mumble, politely taking a sip of the sugary liquid. It does nothing to parch my thirst—then again, I'm not sure much could take my mind away from where it wants to be right now.
"We'll see you later, Daphne," Hannah says, tugging Neville away from me. I need to remember to buy that girl something nice soon.
By the time I look away, however, Harry is gone, taking his denim-clad behind with him.I'm sure I look like a complete fool, standing the middle of Nott' garden, a glass lemonade drooping in my hand as I search the crowd, going on my tiptoes to find what I want.
A flash of white to my left makes me turn that way. I'm sure he's just gotten spotted by Ron and
Hermione, who have trapped him into some long, drawn out conversation that surely can wait until later tonight when he'll probably talk to them again anyway.
But it's only Lilith Moon flitting around Terry Boot, trying to entice him over toward the makeshift dance floor that has sprung up near the back of the house.
Disappointed, I chew my bottom lip and let my shoulders sink just a bit. I turn back toward the party and catch sight of Harry as he is talking to Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones.
He winks at me again and suddenly I understand his game. He's going to keep this up, knowing that I'm chasing him through the crowd.
Instead of going to him, I lean against the pillar on the porch and watch as he drinks slowly from a bottle of frosty butterbeer, his free hand tucked into the pocket of those jeans, turning back to the conversation.
Harry loves to play these little games, even though he doesn't appreciate being the recipient as much as he does the instigator.
But I've rarely lost in these games, and I'm not about to give in now.
A/N: Actually i have this idea from reading fanfic very long ago. those are harry and ginny centric but I am haphne shippers. So i changed them. if anyone have any problem i will delete it. it is only for entertainment purposes. And also I don't know the name of the real author otherwise i will definitely mentioned it. This story is mostly different from original one. thnx chaps.