Title: Three Cold Showers
Author: ChannaSelene (aka. Channah, Selene)
Genre: Slash, Fluff
Summary: Draco is forcing himself to take cold showers and a certain green-eyed Gryffindor is to blame... A silly little H/D oneshot, please read and review!
Disclaimer: Even though this might come to you all as a shock, I must confess that am not J.K Rowling. That's right, despite my ingenuity and talent, I am not the owner of the Wizarding Universe, Hogwarts or Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, and I'm positive that no one in their right minds would ever pay me for writing this.
A/N: Written for the "3 times when..." challenge at finfanfun., a Finnish Potter fanfiction site. I wrote this somewhere around Christmas because I didn't have anything better to do and for the same reason I now decided to rewrite it/translate it into English. (And because I like Draco/Harry and I seriously think the world needs more fluffy H/D...)
This is just a silly little thing created for the sake of amusement, both mine and yours. I apologize for all the grammatical mistakes and misspelled words in advance (I'm lacking a beta and the ability to write proper English) and most humbly beg you to review. Enjoy!
Three Cold Showers
I: The First One
A cold breeze caresses Draco's face as he circles high above the quidditch field. The sky is dark, covered in a thick veil of clouds and the pouring rain prevents him from seeing farther than the lenght of his broom. Gryffindor beaters don't seem to be suffering from the poor visibility though. Once again, Draco has been selected as their number one target and he feels like it would be easier to dodge raindrops than bludgers. But still he won't give up, he dodges and he feints and manages to escape the furiously swinging Gryffindor bats.
Now he is able to concentrate. He scans the gloomy landscape that is opening beneath him, only a few green and red figures break the monotony of the dull grey fog. First the situation seems hopeless, but then he sees it, a tiny golden glimpse far beneath him. The snitch!
Draco immediately dives at its direction. He flies as fast as he can, his body wild with excitement. As he gains speed, he feels the adrenaline rush through his veins and he loves it. He flies faster and faster, attempting with all his skill to catch the snitch, that is... Not moving?!
Too late Draco understands that he has mistaken. Instead of the golden snitch, he has been diving towards a pair of brass eyeglasses. Brass eyeglasses that have been fixed with cello-tape. Eyeglasses that are covering a pair of brilliantly bright green eyes with a startled look in them. Eyeglasses that belong to Harry bloody Potter and are unfortunately currently positioned at the head of their owner. Shit!
Draco's game is over. Madam Hooch's whistle and the angered cries of Gryffindors mark its ending. Potter is dragged to the hospital wing to be patched up and Draco is sent to the changing room to "remind himself of the principles of fair play", as phrased by madam Hooch.
Draco undresses himself and steps into the showering room. He welcomes the warm water on his body, flying in the rain has got him shaking from cold. Draco sighs with pleasure and closes his eyes, enjoying the relieving warmth.
Bright green eyes, framed by brass circles. Broad, muscular shoulders. Strong thighs that are squeezing around a broomstick... Built hands, caressing the broom, moving up and down on the stick and... Oh, Fuck.
Draco opens his eyes and turns the water as cold as possible.
II: And more is to come...
As the black-haired boy rapidly turns his head, a ray of sunlight reflects from a lense of his eyeglasses and makes Draco see red and green dots. He meets the other boy's eyes, bright green eyes that are ablaze with emotion, and the look in those eyes sets his body on fire. Too bad this is the only way for him get those green eyes glow with such a passion.
"Oy! Watch whose friend you are talking to, Ferret!"
He smirks, deliberately conjuring up his most infuriating facial expression. "I am watching." Oh yes, that will really drive him mad.
That's right, I am watching you, I am looking at you far too often, haven't you noticed?
"Oh, in that case..."
Potter draws his wand and takes three long steps, never breaking the eye contact. Now he is just in front of Draco, tips of their noses almost meeting and his wand is pressed against Draco's chin. Draco's self confidence seems to be gone.
"Listen, Malfoy. If I hear that word from your mouth just one more time, I'll..." Potter's voice is only barely controlled and it sounds as if it's almost breaking. He seems to have trouble ending the sentence.
"You'll what?" Draco interrupts, his voice a bit shaky too.
Potter takes a deep breath.
"I'll make sure you'll regret it for the rest of your life which, lucky for you, won't be a long time." Potter's voice is low and husky and it causes something in Draco's stomach tremble. Even though it seems like Potter has gained control of himself, Draco is sure he knows better. He can see that startled look in those green eyes again.
"Oh yeah? And just how are you planning to do that?", Draco snorts.
Well, well, I think you have noticed that I've been watching you... But you won't admit it, you can't admit it. Because that means that you would have to confess that I'm not the only person who has been looking into wrong directions...
Potter narrows his eyes and just when he is opening his mouth to say whatever spell he has planned to use on his rival, something blue flashes behind him and suddenly both boys are soaked in icy water.
"I hope that calmed you down. Twenty points from both of your houses and next time I see you two fighting it will be detention." Both of them are so shocked that they don't even protest and try to explain that they haven't even touched each other. Yet.
Later in the evening, when he is soaking in a hot bath in the prefect's bathroom, Draco lets himself think about his almost-a-fight with Potter. He finds that he is actually a bit disappointed because of Professor Vector's intervenience. A lot disappointed, actually. So what if Potter would have hexed him into next week, just seeing him that agitated, that excited... It would have been worth it. Draco replays their conversation over and over in his mind and he wonders what would have happened if it had been just the two of them, no Weasle, no Mudblood and no intervening professors...
Draco mentally slaps himself on the face, pictures Madam Pince in a tight leather skirt and transforms the water icy cold. Mind over matter, mind over matter... Merlin, how I hate it when this happens!
III: Will they never end?
Hate, loathe, disgust... There are so many words to describe Draco's feelings towards cold showers. He has now grown accustomed to them, though. In fact, he often takes three of them during a day. There is one to start his day with in order to tame his morning hard-on, one that takes place around the lunch break to get Potter out of his mind after the Gryffindor-Slytherin charms class and one in the evening if he has has let his mind wander during homework.
He won't jerk off over a fantasy that is including Harry fucking Potter, that's for sure.
Well, he wont jerk off over a fantasy that is including fucking Harry Potter, to be precise.
Too bad he doesn't seem to be able to fantasize about anyone else than The-Boy-Who-Lived-Not-To-Be-Fantasized-About-By-Draco-Malfoy.
And now it's time for his evening shower. At least in the prefect's bathroom even cold showers are tolerable. The scented water runs over his body, making him shiver but also calming him down. Sound of running water fills the air. Suddenly, through the roaring of water Draco hears the door creak. He opens the shower curtain slightly and almost completely loses his sanity when he sees no one else than the person who has been making his life a living hell of sexual frustration for the past months standing in the doorway.
"What the hell are you doing here, Potter?! This is the prefect's bathroom!"
"I.. um.." Potter seems to have lost his ability to speak. He just stands there, in the middle of the bathroom, opening and closing his excruciatingly perfectly formed mouth.
"Who told you the password? I bet it was the Weasle..." Draco's voice tails off and once again the only sound in the room is the sound of the water running from the shower.
Well this is what we call an uncomfortable silence. Awkward.
Potter just stands there for a while, not showing any signs of mental activity. Then he nods absently, ignoring how Draco has just offended his friend, and stares at the naked boy in front of him. Then he starts undressing and now it's Draco's turn to loose his ability to think or speak. Even though cold water is dripping from his body, he is feeling hot. The more skin the other boy is baring, the less control he seems to have over his body.
When Potter starts unzipping his pants, back turned to Draco, the blond boy takes a deep breath and does what seems to be the hardest thing he has done in his seventeen years. Including burying Pinky, his pet rabbit, leaving home for Hogwarts and refusing to become a Death Eater. He closes the shower curtain.
Then he takes his towel, wraps it around his hips and manages not to look at Potter as he walks towards his neatly folded clothes.
As he straightens up after picking up his boxers, he is surprised by the warm feeling of another body radiating behind him. He turns around, meeting the pair of green eyes that have been haunting him fo such a long time. The look in Potter's eyes is new to him. It has the same fierce flame that he has seen in them so many times before, but something is different. Hate is replaced by... What?
"Potter, what the-"
A pair of warm lips cut off the rest of his sentence and all questions are erased from Draco's head with every other thought that he might have had.
Later there will be a time for questions, later there will be a time for fighting. But one thing is for sure: There will never, ever again be time for cold showers.
A/N: Congratulations and a big thanks for all of you who made it this far!
I'm well aware that I lack talent as a writer and that my English is far from perfect. Translating a story that I originally wrote in Finnish turned out to be quite a challenge. I actually had to rewrite most of it, mainly because I didn't like the original, but also because I noticed that there were some sentences that were just impossible to translate. However, writing this has been a really fun way to "eemproove my eenglish" (though I'll always be more than happy to try the Fleur Delacour -method in studying if it includes a certain Weasley...) and all constructive criticism is welcome.
I'll once again beg mercy by pointing out that I have never, ever before written fiction in English. (Well, ok, at sixth grade I had to write a story about a squirrel called Jack, but that doesn't count. There were only ten sentences and poor Jack didn't have any kind of love life...)
If you liked it, review and I'll write more. If you didn't like it, review and I might write better next time.