Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: Draco's Not So Good Day
Author: Faith Wood
Rating: NC-17 (Rated for sexual content. Please bear this in mind.)
Word Count: 2000
Summary: Harry receives a peculiar present and an even more peculiar note.
Warning: Silliness. Humour. Wanking.
Draco's Not So Good Day
Draco's Not So Good Day
Harry stormed into his apartment, and slammed the door closed behind him. To say that he was furious would be an understatement. He had just had another fight with Draco Malfoy, and to be honest, this whole thing was getting on Harry's nerves. He didn't know what he had ever done to deserve this punishment. Fate was cruel indeed for assigning him such a partner. Well, not fate, the Head of the Auror Department, actually.
Making him work with Malfoy was a complete and utter disaster. It was bad enough that Malfoy had the urge to insult Harry at every turn, but there was in fact, an additional problem.
This particular problem made Harry run to the bathroom. Now, he was upset, or furious actually, but ... he was also quite hard. It was just that, well, when Malfoy was mad his hair would get all messed up, and he would purse his lips and stare at Harry with dark, blazing eyes. And that was upsetting, and it inflamed Harry in more than one way.
Harry took off his clothes and stepped beneath the shower. He considered turning the water cold, but really, that never helped in the long run. Instead, he lathered his body with soap and leaned on the cold tiles, letting the water run over him as he grabbed his cock and rubbed it with sure slow strokes. In his mind, he saw Draco Malfoy on his knees, those heated silver eyes staring up at him as he swallowed around Harry's cock. Shivering, Harry stroked himself harder, moving his hips, and imagined thrusting into Malfoy's rude mouth instead of his own fist.
He was close, but he wanted to make it last, so he stopped his movements with supreme effort, and took several deep breaths. He looked around the shower, searching for something, anything — he needed more today. Today Malfoy was really angry. He had yelled and threatened and warned Harry to shut up or else ...
Frustrated, Harry turned around and faced the wall. He leaned on one hand, spread his legs and bent over a little. With his other hand he reached behind his balls and roughly pushed two soapy fingers inside his arse. It burned, but it also felt wonderful, especially when Harry imagined that these weren't his fingers but something larger and attached to Draco Malfoy. Oh, and Harry knew just how much larger. Communal showers were a gift to all voyeuristic perverts like Harry. For Harry had looked. Examined even. Not the other Aurors though. Well, sometimes.
Harry continued to finger-fuck himself, groaning and imagining Draco Malfoy standing behind him, yelling insults and fucking him hard and fast just like Harry needed it. Harry shoved three fingers inside, moving them ever faster, until his arm hurt more than his arse. With a groan he pulled his fingers out and after a few jerks of his hand, came all over the shower wall.
Breathing heavily, his arousal forgotten, Harry was furious once more.
Harry watched the water washing off the evidence of his activities. If only ... Harry would have liked to confess his feelings to Malfoy, but how could he possibly do that when Malfoy hated him so much?
Next morning the winter's first snow lay soft and clean on Harry's window sill. Harry had found it depressing, but then again he had being finding everything depressing lately.
Suddenly, an owl slammed into the window and collapsed on the sill. Startled and then worried for the animal's wellbeing, Harry rushed to let the owl in. The second Harry opened the window, the owl rose from the sill where it had previously faked its death, and flew towards the table. The huge heavy-looking package fell to the floor, but the owl paid no heed to its poor aim and flew away at once, seemingly in a hurry.
"Postal owls," Harry shook his head sadly. He walked over to the package and picked it up, examining it carefully. It was big but not heavy. And it was curse-free, Harry concluded after casting a couple of charms. Satisfied and overwhelmingly curious, because it wasn't his birthday and it wasn't Christmas and Harry couldn't imagine who could have send him a present. The only person who did send him presents for no occasion was, well, Malfoy. Cans of worms, moulded cakes, a flesh-eating slug ... that sort of thing. Well, on one truly memorable occasion he had sent him a pink, lacy thong. Though, Malfoy had obviously wanted to humiliate him, Harry had kept them. He never wore them, of course, but ... well, he did wank with them. They were all silky and soft and just slid over his cock.
Harry swallowed and shook his head. So, he received another present and presumably it was from Malfoy yet again. With his wand in hand, Harry opened the box. And frowned.
Carefully, he extracted the item that was inside. It was dark green, soft and fluffy and Harry trailed his hand over it in wonderment. Upon closer inspection, Harry determined that it was a shawl. A very expensive looking shawl. A shawl that Harry fell in love with at first sight. He wrapped it around his neck, loving the way it felt against his skin.
A small piece of parchment fell on the floor. His heart hammering, Harry bent to picked it up. Obviously this wasn't one of Malfoy's crazy presents, but Harry dearly wanted to know who had sent him something so beautiful.
He read the note with no small amount of shock.
Please forgive me for my behaviour. I have never meant to hurt you. I am aware of all the things you have done for me and all the sacrifices you have made and I truly appreciate them. Please accept this small gift as a sign of genuine repentance.
I'll love you and admire you always,
Harry stared, stunned. It couldn't be. This was a joke. It had to be. Harry read the note again. And again. Then he walked around the room for a bit, paused, and read it yet again.
If it was a joke, why would Malfoy send him such an expensive gift? That made little sense. But maybe ... well, sometimes it did seem that Malfoy was looking at Harry as though he wanted to ... well, strangle him. But possibly just drag him into bed and fuck him silly. It was difficult to tell with Malfoy. But after this note and the gift ...
Harry reached a firm decision and fetching his cloak, Apparated away.
He just had to know.
Harry stood in front of Draco Malfoy's door and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had been doing this for the last half an hour.
Finally, he made a fist and knocked on the door so hard his knuckles hurt.
After a couple muffled curses, the door opened to reveal that ... well, Draco Malfoy wasn't an early riser. Obviously. Since he was still in his pyjama bottoms. And nothing else.
This was a bad idea. Harry stared at the soft-looking blond hair that sprinkled the happy, happy path from Draco's navel to the waistband of his tented pyjamas.
Harry swallowed hard, knowing that he was blushing. "I ..." he managed. "I came to talk to you."
"Should I leave you two alone then?" Malfoy's sneering voice made Harry look up. And only when he did he realized that he had just addressed Malfoy's cock, apparently.
Harry wished he hadn't wrapped the shawl around his neck, because it was much too warm in here.
Malfoy stopped smirking suddenly and instead stared at Harry's neck.
Seeing that Malfoy had recognized the shawl, Harry gathered courage and said, "Did you really mean what you said in that note?"
Malfoy was gaping at Harry, apparently trying to form words. "What?" he finally breathed out.
Staring at Draco's nipples — because why not? — Harry decided to come ... er ... clean. "Because I want you to know that I feel the same way." Harry kept staring at Draco's naked chest, not daring to look up and see Malfoy's reaction.
Years passed and then Malfoy said, "Oh?"
Harry looked up quickly. Malfoy's face was the picture of absolute shock.
Harry nodded and encouraged by the fact that Malfoy hadn't hexed him yet he dared to press the matter a little. "Could we possibly have —" wild sex right now! "— er ... dinner today?"
Malfoy seemed very hot and bothered. He looked at Harry, then at the shawl, then down the hall. He frowned and rubbed his chin, and Harry was feeling increasingly nervous. "All right?" Malfoy said finally.
Harry grinned widely and nearly skipped but stopped himself. Barely. "All right!" he exclaimed.
Malfoy nodded, looking a bit bewildered. "Very well then. It's a ... date?"
"Yes" Harry confirmed happily.
Malfoy was blinking rapidly with a peculiar expression on his face, but Harry was too happy to wonder about that. Instead he moved closer, close enough to nearly touch Malfoy's lips with his and tipped his head a little to the right. Malfoy was standing rigidly and staring at Harry with wide eyes. Harry concluded that it would be polite to ask. "May I?" he whispered.
"Draco! Draco!" a female voice screeched from the inside of the apartment.
Harry stepped back quickly as Malfoy paled in alarm. "It's my mother! She must be coming through the floo!" Malfoy hissed.
Although Malfoy was clearly distressed by this, Harry felt extremely relieved. It's just the mother. "Well, I guess I'll go then," Harry said sadly, staring at Draco's flat stomach for a bit before looking up.
Malfoy grimaced and nodded. "I'll see you tonight. If I live through this," he added, looking truly worried.
Suddenly, Draco stepped outside and grabbed Harry's upper arms, pulling him in for a kiss. Harry's toes curled as Draco's tongue invaded his mouth, and he responded eagerly, amazed with this kiss he had been wanting for so long.
Malfoy pulled away much too soon. He smiled brilliantly at Harry and asked, "You like the shawl?"
"I love it," Harry promised.
"Good. That's comforting. It really is. I'll pick you up at seven."
"Okay." Harry quickly stole another kiss and happily walked away. He glanced behind just one more time to see the lovely hard muscles of Malfoy's back as the blond practically ran inside his apartment.
Harry frowned. He hoped that Malfoy wasn't in too much trouble with his mother.
Draco grabbed a random robe and ran to the living room. There he found a terrifying image. His mother looked horrible. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She held a long rope in one hand and a note in the other.
Half-sobbing she yelled the content of the note at Draco.
"Instructions! First, tie one end of the rope to a girder. Second! Tie the other end of the rope around you neck. Third! Jump! Fourth! If necessary, repeat! But this time find a higher girder!"
"Mother ..." Draco tried.
"Thirty six hours of labours! Birth marks! Lying to the Dark Lord! All of that — for you! And this is how you repay me? You send me this? Oh, Draco, how could you?"
Draco sighed. Bloody incompetent postal owls. On one hand this was a disaster. He had no idea how to pacify his mother. She was mad at him, even before this present. But on the other hand ...
Draco grinned. He had a date with Potter! He had never dared to hope that Potter wanted him like Draco wanted that wild-haired git. But there it was. Draco grinned wider. Oh, this was a good day.
"You're laughing at me?"
Well, possibly it wasn't.