Out for Ice Cream


Draco tapped his foot against the stool impatiently, glaring at the top of Madame Malkins's neat black bun of hair. His mother was somewhere behind the rack of robes to his left, perusing a few of the more expensive pieces for sale, waiting for Malfoy's measurements to be taken up. Draco wanted to get out of the stuffy shop and into the Quidditch supplies shop; maybe he could convince his father to buy him a Firebolt this time around. After all, Harry bloody Potter had one, so it was all the more reason he should get one too, right?

A pin suddenly pricked the back of Draco's hand, making him wince. "Ow! Watch where you stick those things woman!"

Madame Malkins gritted her teeth from where she was stooped down, taking measurements. "Sorry, young Malfoy. My hand slipped."

"Well you'd better make sure not to slip again. Honestly, why do we even put up with shopping in your filthy store?"

"Hush Draco," came Narcissa Malfoy's quiet voice. "We have plenty more things to do after this. Your father is waiting."

"Yeah, well, tell her." Draco indicated rudely at the witch. "I don't think she even knows the meaning of 'quick'—ow!"

"Really sorry, young Malfoy. It won't happen again, don't worry."

Draco growled something under his throat and looked out the window instead, and his breath almost caught in his throat.

There, sitting from across the shop, under the eaves of Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, was Harry Potter.

Draco felt a familiar pool of warmth forming under his belly, and he gritted his teeth, trying to control the shiver that ran up his spine. He did not remember how he had ended up like this; he just realized one time while staring raptly at Harry's flying form while in Quidditch practice, that he was attracted to the Gryffindor Seeker.

It had taken a very short span of time for this attraction to grow into something deeper and more dangerous, and the fact that Harry had changed from short and thin nerd to tall and lithe Quidditch hunk did not help matters any. There was no denying that Harry had become very attractive; Draco had seen how groups of girls would whisper and giggle behind the Gryffindor's back when he passed them in the corridors.

Recently though, this strong desire for Harry had Draco waking from vivid dreams in the middle of the night breathless, sweaty, and always aroused. Even as he thought about it, the latest dream to add to his perverted collection surfaced in his mind, and Draco shut his eyes in an effort to stop it.

Harry's skin glowed a soft hue in the candlelight, beads of sweat glistening. His dark green eyes held Draco in thrall; filled with lust and longing, with passion and a heady need for him that drove Draco wild. He was on top of Harry, looking down at him as a hunter would its prey.

Harry's hands traced lines of fire up Draco's arm, across his chest and down his back, his voice calling him all the while in a breathy whisper. And Draco would come, his lips crushing fiercely into his, his hands just as fervent, exploring everything about Harry that he had to offer. Their cries of pleasure and want would pierce the night as they consumed each other…

Draco shook himself from his thoughts and glared at the figure in the window. Draco, you sick bastard he thought angrily to himself. Why'd you have to daydream about him in a place like this? Heck, why are you daydreaming about him in the first place?

But deep down Draco knew it was no use; even if he did not want to admit it, Harry had permeated deeper than just his dreams. He was under Draco's skin, in every breath Draco took, in the blood rushing through his veins. And the Slytherin knew that it was too late to stop it.

"There. All done." Madame Malkins removed the half-finished robe from Draco and stepped back. Draco gratefully stepped down the stool and stood by the window, resolutely turning his back to it. At last, they were going…this infernal shop was giving Draco more trouble than he had bargained for…

"Wait here, son." Narcissa placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and looked at Madame Malkins. "I would like to have a dress robe fitted for me. Using this material please, along with the design you showed me last week."

"Certainly, madam," the shop proprietress smiled at Narcissa and led her deeper back into the shop where she tailored the more expensive dress robes out of view. "Right this way."

Narcissa followed Madame Malkin, leaving Draco by himself near the shop window. Draco almost stared agape at his mother's retreating back, but years of training at his father's hand allowed him to compose himself. He let his anger seethe inside instead.

Great. Just what I needed. More time to stare at Potter.

Even as he said it, Draco found himself turning around and—indeed—staring at Harry. He could not help it.

Harry was seated sideways from his direction. Draco had a perfect view of Harry's long legs stretching out under the table. Even though he was wearing very old clothes that were ten sizes too big for him (where does he get those God-awful clothes, anyway?), Draco knew that Harry's body was firm and toned from Quidditch practice.

He was obviously waiting for his order at the ice cream parlor. Florean Fortescue arrived with the ice cream cone himself. He gave the double-scooped dessert to Harry, who accepted the sweet with a smile. Draco saw that he had ordered the raspberry and chocolate flavor; he hated raspberry and chocolate. But as Harry began to devour his ice cream, Draco's throat suddenly went dry, his eyes widening to round saucers.

Harry Potter had a quirky way of eating ice cream. Draco himself took small bites of ice cream whenever he ate one, licking his lips occasionally but this…Draco vaguely wondered if he was going to faint as Harry began to lick and suck happily at his ice cream.

He watched in rapt fascination, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Harry's tongue darted in and out, lapping at the cone until he reached the top of the dessert, where he sucked the melting ice cream for a while before going back down to the base, licking and twirling the cone so he could lap at the ice cream from all sides. Draco could imagine the small, sucking noises Harry must be making, and it was making his mouth water and his knees turn to jelly. When Harry came across a nut, he would nibble on it happily, swallow, and continue licking.

Draco could not resist a moan when Harry began to lick in long, slow movements, savoring the flavor before swallowing. Didn't the prick know how erotic he made it look? He continued staring at the ice cream Harry was licking and sucking at like a lolly, and Draco wondered what it would feel like if he was the lolly. Damn, it must feel good…

And all of a sudden, Draco was aware that Harry's eyes were on him, watching him from behind his glasses, his face inscrutable.

Oh crap. I am a dead wizard.

Draco was frozen stiff. What would he do now? He had been caught staring; that was something he couldn't readily make an excuse for. While his mind raced, trying to figure out a way out of this embarrassing situation, Harry's lips quirked up into a smile, and he continued to lick away at his ice cream, this time slower, more sensual, and with his eyes half closed.

Draco swallowed. He could not believe it.

Harry was now running his tongue round the circumference of the ice cream, clearly enjoying it. He looked straight at Draco, a hint of a grin on his mouth. He held the ice cream aloft in one hand while the other supported his chin as he grinned at Draco from where he was sitting. He waved the ice cream in front of him—which was now considerably smaller than it had been a while ago.

No, Draco thought weakly. He wouldn't.

Harry opened his mouth, took in the ice cream in his lips until only the sugar cone was visible, and began to suck at it very, very slowly.

It almost made Draco faint.

With eyes closed, Harry continued devouring the ice cream this way until it was all gone. He ate the cone in a few bites and stood up from his seat. Draco watched warily as Harry made his way across the street and stood face to face with Draco, the window between them.

He was unmistakably smirking. Draco had no difficulty giving him a scowl, having done it numerous times before. It was like an instant reaction to him now, although underneath that mask of hatred Draco could still feel his heart beating hard against his chest, his skin warm, and his pants much too tight. Hating Harry, and hating himself even more, Draco made a very rude gesture with his hand and turned around, crossing his arms across his chest and cursing the Gryffindor under his breath.

He wished Harry would just turn and walk away. He wished Harry had not seen him looking. He wished he had not been so turned on just watching Harry eat that bloody cone of ice cream. He wished for a dozen other things—all of them related in one way or another to Harry, the stupid cone of ice cream, and his hard arousal—but Draco knew it was no use. So he switched to cursing Harry, cursing the ice cream, cursing himself, and cursing his mother for taking too damn long with her meas—

"Hey, Malfoy."

Draco spun around so quickly it made his head spin, but hearing Harry's voice so close had made him feel heady and intoxicated. "Y-you! What the bloody hell—" He had not even been able to hear him come inside the shop!

Harry just smiled and raked a hand through his hair. Draco swallowed audibly and shut his mouth. He bit back the scathing remark he was about to deliver, knowing his mother would hear. He gave Harry a nasty glare. "What do you want, Potter?" he hissed in a low voice.

Harry cut to the chase. "You were watching me." His smile was gone, to be replaced by a smooth, unfathomable expression.

"So?" Draco managed a casual shrug. He knew lying would be useless. "Going to have me thrown into Azkaban for it?"

Harry shook his head, a smile returning to his face, making Draco's heart skip a beat. "Why do you have to be so damn defensive on me, Malfoy? Mind you, from the way you were looking at me moments ago, I'd say your behavior would be what I'd expect."

Draco could feel the flush of shame burning his cheeks, but he stubbornly stood his ground and glared. "Fuck you, Potter."

"Yeah, that's what you want isn't it?" Harry had the gall to give him a sultry smile and lick his lower lip before chuckling under his breath.

Draco was mortified by the implication of what he had just said. "That—that's not what I meant, Potter!"

"Wow, Malfoy, you're stuttering. A first for you, huh?"

"Will you just get out of here and stay away from me?!"

Harry smiled. "Are you sure that's what you want me to do?"

"Yes," Draco said fiercely, the lie bitter on his tongue. What he really wanted was for Harry to eat another cone of ice cream, but this time he'd be watching up close…GAH! "Just…leave me alone!"

"Draco? Has another customer come in for Madam Malkins?" Narcissa's voice came muffled from the back of the store.

Draco turned towards the sound in alarm. He looked back at Harry. "Leave. Now." He did not say please…he would not say please…

Harry seemed to understand. Still smiling, he shrugged and said, "Alright. I'll see you on the train then?"

Draco only gave him a death glare. Harry chuckled. "Or maybe not," he added. "Oh, before I forget…"

And he swooped down on Draco, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Draco's brain went into shock; his whole body went numb. But when Harry's tongue stroked Draco's bottom lip it spurred Draco to action...an action that he would regret afterwards.

Feeling Harry's tongue—his tongue…his tongue—on his lip made Draco gasp against Harry's lips and open his mouth. It was the opportunity Harry had been waiting for, and his tongue dove right inside, tasting Draco and eliciting a soft moan from the Slytherin.

When the need for air became necessary, Harry broke the kiss, grinning like a maniac. "Just thought you wanted to know what flavor I was eating. Later, then." He gave Draco a wink before going out the store, leaving Draco to stare after him, his eyes out of focus.

The last coherent thought Malfoy had before letting his knees give way and letting himself slump down on the floor against the wall, was that raspberry and chocolate did not taste that bad at all. In fact, he added after another moment, his finger tracing his slightly swollen lip, he rather liked it.


[Edited: 07/03/07 I'd like to thank everyone who gave their reviews for this one-shot; I know it's not very convincing to write this here, but your positive reviews have made writing this piece a really fulfilling experience. I will be posting the sequel (rejoice, there is a sequel) in a few days. This one, hopefully, will be a multi-chaptered story. I will update I soon as I can. Cheers.