This is Draco's birthday fic...

Rain and Chocolate

Harry Apparated to the designated spot and quickly cast an umbrella charm—bloody hell, but it was a miserable night! Pitch dark and pouring rain. He sighed and tried to find a silver lining. Since it was early June, at least it wasn't cold. There, that would have to do.

He walked through the trees and wet bushes, wondering who would be his partner in gloom for the evening. Which other unlucky Auror had drawn stakeout duty on Samael Johnson? Rufus Scrimgeour still hated Harry with a deep and abiding passion, so it was no surprise that he had been given the most boring job on the worst possible night, but Harry wasn't certain whom else was on Scrimgeour's bad side at the moment.

The answer sat upon the remains of a crumbled block of stone and Harry stopped short in surprise. He grinned ruefully for not grasping it sooner. Scrimgeour hated Draco Malfoy even more than he hated Harry, regardless that the former Death Eater had been largely responsible for the final defeat of Voldemort.

Harry sighed and stepped forward to make his presence known. He was shocked that Malfoy had not even cast a protection spell from the downpour—the Slytherin was drenched. His normally perfect hair was plastered to his head and looked much darker than usual.

It would probably look like spun gold instead of spun silver, if there were enough light to see by, Harry thought sourly. The bloody bastard would be gorgeous even if he were covered in tar and feathers.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked and then mentally slapped himself for asking such a bloody stupid question. He already knew the Auror was here to watch Samael Johnson sleep, the same as Harry. He waited for Malfoy's usual scathing reply, but raised his brows in surprise at the response he received.

"Drowning, I think." His voice was quiet and subdued—so utterly un-Malfoy-like that Harry looked at him sharply. The proud shoulders were slumped and rain dripped from the tips of his nose and chin into his lap, unnoticed. Something was obviously bothering the Slytherin.

Malfoy sighed and shifted his hips sideways, clearing a space on the small stone block.

"Have a sit down, Potter; it's going to be a long night. You know damn well that as soon as that lamp goes out, Johnson will be snoring until dawn."

Harry's gaze flicked to the small house visible in the valley below. A single light burned in one window. Samael Johnson was a small-time dark wizard suspected of smuggling illegal potion ingredients, so the Ministry kept a close eye on him hoping to catch him in the act. It was well known, however, that Johnson was afraid of the dark and never left his house after hours. Which was why the job was always given to those Scrimgeour wanted to punish. Especially on miserable nights like this.

Harry sat down next to Malfoy. The block was small, forcing him to sit close to Malfoy to avoid falling off the edge. His hip and thigh rested against Malfoy's and he felt the wetness from the Slytherin's clothing seep through his robes. Harry leaned back slightly so their shoulders were barely touching and braced his hand on the block behind Malfoy's back. As an afterthought, he pulled out his wand and enlarged his magical umbrella to cover them both.

"Thanks," Malfoy said absently. The light went out in the house below. Malfoy lifted his wand and cast a quick spell that shot toward the darkened domicile. "Wards. I'll know if he tries to sneak out." Malfoy sighed. "Now, we wait. Lucky us."

Long moments of silence ticked by, broken only by the hammering sound of the rain pouring down around them. Harry knew it would be a very long night.

"What's wrong?" he asked finally, even though he expected a snarled reply that contained the words "shut up" or "sod off." Once again Malfoy surprised him.

"It's my birthday."

Harry drew in a harsh breath and felt a huge rush of sympathy. He was completely familiar with horrible birthdays and was suddenly angry at the Minister of Magic for forcing this duty on Malfoy tonight of all nights.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. Malfoy's shoulder moved against his as he shrugged and Harry wondered what Malfoy would have been doing if he hadn't been ordered to sit here in the rain. Probably drinking champagne, eating rich food, opening gifts, and dancing merrily at Malfoy Manor.

Harry reached into his robe and pulled out a silver flask. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to Malfoy. The silver eyes flicked to his.

"Drinking on duty, Potter? I'm shocked."

"You should know by now that I have a problem following rules," Harry replied. "Besides, you know Johnson isn't going anywhere. You're soaked—this will warm you."

"I'm not cold," Draco said, but he took the flask and tipped it to his lips, taking a large swig of the brandy. He handed it back and Harry took a drink. The rim was wet where Malfoy's lips had touched it. The alcohol burned its way down Harry's throat and settled into warm coals in his belly.

They passed the container back and forth for a while until the liquid was gone. Harry felt very pleasantly tipsy. When he put the flask away, his fingers brushed against a package. He pulled it out.

"Chocolate frog?" he offered.

"Merlin, Potter, you never got over your sweet tooth?"

"I love chocolate," Harry admitted and unwrapped the frog. He held it until the candy creature stopped trying to hop away and solidified, melting slightly under his fingers. He broke it in half and handed a portion to Malfoy.

They ate in silence and Harry commented, "You have something on your cheek." It was a small dark spot, likely a bit of leaf from one of the overhanging trees. Malfoy negligently raised a hand and swiped at it. The leaf disappeared, leaving a long streak of chocolate in its place. Harry stared at the smear and wondered if he should mention it. He decided not to, but it bothered him. It was annoying, somehow, like a lipstick smear on a white porcelain teacup. He had the urge to reach out and wipe it away from the flawless skin to keep it from marring the perfection.

He studied Malfoy's features surreptitiously. Even with his hair stuck to his face, beautiful was the only word to describe the Slytherin. His face could have been carved from marble by Michelangelo.

"Why are you looking at me, Potter?"

Okay, so he had not been quite surreptitious enough.

"Now you have chocolate on your cheek."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Remove it, if it bothers you."

"You're giving me permission to touch your hallowed pureblood flesh?"

"You caught me on a good day. I simply don't care at the moment. Lick it off, if necessary, just stop staring at me."

Harry's eyes widened at the sarcastic suggestion, but to his slightly drunk mind the idea of licking it off was incredibly enticing. Without thinking it through, he leaned forward and ran his tongue over the chocolate stripe. He felt Malfoy stiffen beside him and grinned.

"Mmmm, you taste good," he murmured, feeling strangely giddy and bizarrely turned on by his action.


Draco was astonished by the feel of Potter's tongue against his face. He hadn't thought the idiot would actually do it! He stiffened and reached up to push Potter away, but then his words caused the breath to catch in his throat.

Mmmm, you taste good. Merline, the unexpectedly seductive quality of Potter's voice made Draco's heart flip over for a moment.

"Like chocolate, I suppose?" he asked dryly, struggling for control. He felt Potter's tongue flick out twice more, sending a shiver down his spine.

"No," Potter whispered. "Better than chocolate."

Draco couldn't breathe through the sudden rush of yearning evoked by Potter's words. He turned his head to say—something, but Potter hadn't moved and Draco's lips brushed against his for a bare instant. Instinctively, he leaned forward and Potter seemed to have the same idea, for suddenly their mouths were together and parting smoothly. The tips of their tongues met and touched. Draco tasted Potter and knew the Gryffindor was right—it was better than chocolate.

Potter tasted of brandy and chocolate and something uniquely different—essence of Harry—that was hands above the others.

And then Potter's arm was around Draco's back and his hand touched Draco's waist while the other dropped to his thigh and that was even better. Draco found his own hands twisting in Potter's hair and it was so much softer than expected. They devoured each other until the need to breathe forced them apart. Draco released Harry and felt Potter's hands slide away as they stared at each other for a shocked instant.

Draco looked away first, staring at the dark house while he tried to collect his racing, scattered thoughts. He swallowed hard.

"Was that my birthday present?" he asked finally, taking refuge in the familiarity of sarcasm.

"Only if you liked it," Potter replied softly.

The silence drew on until it became awkward and Malfoy sensed Potter beginning to draw away.

"I'm used to getting more than one present," Draco said huskily. He felt Potter's surprise through the parts of their bodies that still touched.

"Spoiled," Potter said and Draco heard relief beneath the amusement. "How many presents do you want?"

"A dozen to start with."

"Spoiled and greedy," Potter commented, but then his mouth was on Draco's again and it became a sweeter birthday than he could have dreamed.

Around them the rain fell unheeded.