by Reiko Katsura
Pairings/Characters: Main: Harry/Draco, Side: Hermione/Ron, Mentioned: Ginny/Neville, Others
Warnings: Complete silliness and some minor het.
1) Hermione hosts a costume party and insists Harry/Draco attend.
2) Ghost and goblins and Malfoys! Oh my!
3) Promises, promises.
Author's Notes: Written for HD_Fluff's Fluffy Halloween Fest. This hasn't been beta-ed, so sorry for any SPAG errors I may have overlooked. Really, the fic is just silly. Happy Halloween, everyone!
[H] [A] [P] [P] [Y] [~] [H] [A] [L] [L] [O] [W] [E] [E] [N] [H/D]
"She's going to be pissed if we don't attend." Harry murmured against Draco's smooth cheek.
"Her problem," Draco muttered back, and ceased further talk by crashing his lips against Harry's.
They tumbled onto the sofa, tearing off their clothes and touching as much as possible.
"Fuck, Draco—I'm going to burst."
Draco chuckled, then hissed when Harry slipped his hand around his waist and cupped his arse cheeks, squeezing them firmly.
"God, Harry, I want you so bad."
"Me, too, Draco; me, too—"
"Harry! Draco! What are you doing!"
Both men jumped in alarm at the furious voice, and snapped their heads towards the fireplace, where Hermione's fiery head glared at them from the flames.
"I told you that you were not going to blow this party off! I want both of you at the Burrow in ten minutes top!"
"But Hermione—," Harry started, flushed.
"No buts, Harry James Potter! Don't make me come through!"
Draco glared at her from under Harry, "Listen, Granger—,"
"Malfoy, you'll do good to remember just who exactly your boss is!" she snapped.
Draco spluttered, "You wouldn't—,"
"Watch me." She glared.
Draco clenched his jaw, dropped his head, and buried his face in the crook of Harry's shoulder. Harry thought he heard something about blood and intestines coming from his lover, but he couldn't be sure.
Or surprised, if he was being honest with himself.
"Now, I want both of you decent and in costume in ten minutes. If you're not there, I'll be coming straight through the floo to collect you."
She paused, and then added for good measure. "And don't bother trying to close it off. I can disable a closed floo faster than Harry could catch a snitch." And with that, she pulled back into the flames and disappeared.
Harry and Draco stood there, staring at the face-less fire.
"I really want to kill her right now, Harry."
Harry sighed. So did he, he thought wearily.
"Come on then; let's get dressed."
Draco made a whining sound. "But I'm still hard, Harry!"
Harry shot him a look. "Use a charm or something, Draco. We don't have time."
Pouting, Draco crossed his arms over his naked chest. "Harry, I'm so hard I'm going to burst. You won't leave me like this, will you?" To emphasize his point, he uncrossed his arms and ran his hands down his flat stomach, stopping just short of his blonde, curly pubic hairs.
Harry trailed the movement hungrily.
"It'll only take me five minutes to come, Harry." He dropped his eyes suggestively, and licked his lips at the sight of Harry's hard length pushing through his red briefs. "Five minutes for us both to come."
Harry groaned, and arched his hips slightly.
"Draco," he whined, but was already kneeing forward.
Draco smiled. "Sixty-nine. We'll kill two birds."
Harry's eyes glazed over.
"Five minutes, with five minutes to spare." Harry agreed. And really, he should have known that Draco was lying. Draco took longer than that to brush his teeth.
"I want to suck your cock." Draco whispered, and moved his hand, which had been tracing the base of his own hardness, towards Harry.
"Well, you can do that after the party, then."
They both startled again. Draco even made a weird choking sound.
Sure enough, there Hermione was, dusting soot off her cat-costume.
"You're costumes are upstairs, yeah? I'll go bring them down. And do cover up, will you, boys? It's indecent."
Hermione strolled right past them, in the direction of the hall.
"I really want to kill her." Draco said through gritted teeth, though removed himself from the sofa and slipped on his robe.
Harry sighed, and mourned the loss of Draco's skin.
"Me, too." He said, loud enough that he hoped Hermione heard him.
"Come on, then." Draco grumbled, and slipped his hand into Harry's.
As they headed towards the hallway, Harry thought of all the ways he could get back at Hermione at the party. Ways that involved Draco's naked skin and coming, of course.
By the leer Draco sent his way, and the mischievous smirk that formed on his wicked face, Harry knew that Draco was thinking the exact same thing.
Harry, Draco, and Hermione arrived at the Burrow just when the guests started to arrive.
"Mrs. Weasley did a great job decorating," Harry murmured, glancing around. Draco didn't respond, but from the way he was looking around appreciatively, Harry knew he thought the same.
A great job was an understatement, to be honest. Mrs. Weasley had truly outdone herself. The living room had been enlarged so that it rivaled the size of the Gryffindor Common room, and was definitely the spookiest thing Harry had ever seen, save Voldemort's face: the walls were black and stained with what looked very much like blood; cobwebs lined the ceilings and the weathered chandeliers; white mist moved through the chilly air and flooded the stony floors; Pumpkin lanterns and candles hovered the corners and creases of the room; and off-white skeletons lingered by the furniture.
"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley, dressed in a healer attire, gushed and moved towards him. "So glad you could make it!"
Harry chuckled nervously, and leaned down to accept Mrs. Weasley's kiss.
He almost hadn't made it. Now that he harbored no erection and there was no nude Draco underneath him, and he could think much clearer, Harry didn't see how he though he'd miss Mrs. Weasley's Halloween bash. She would have killed him if he had.
"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Mrs. Weasley beamed at him, and somewhere from behind—and Harry was quite positive it had been Hermione—someone snorted.
"And aren't you handsome!"
It took a moment for Harry to realize that Mrs. Weasley had moved on from him, and was now fretting over Draco.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Draco grinned at her, and Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. Draco was a glutton for compliments.
Harry turned around to see Ron and his son, Hugo, approaching.
"Hullo, mate. I see 'Mione managed to drag you here, after all."
"Shh!" Harry hissed at Ron, then glanced back to see if Mrs. Weasley had heard.
Ron laughed, and Harry smacked him on the arm.
Turning to Hugo, who was scowling at the tie around his neck, Harry said, "Hey, Hugo. And what are you supposed to be."
"Uncle Harry," Ron's son greeted him, "I'm the President of the Unites States of America."
When Harry quirked his eyebrow at that, Hugo pointed to his mom with an irritated frown. "Mum thought it would be cute."
Ron chirped in, "'Mione thought it would be educational."
Harry sniggered, though stopped abruptly when Hugo turned his glare at him.
Harry turned around at Draco's voice, and smiled as he stepped right beside him.
"Oi, Harry! Look there! Neville's dressed as a Pirate! And Dean's a Vampire and Seamus is a Witch! There are ghosts and goblins and--," Ron turned and noticed Malfoy standing next to Harry, and blurted, "--Malfoy?"
"Oh my!" Hugo added, humorously.
Ron ignored his son. "What the bloody hell are you supposed to be, Malfoy?" Ron spluttered.
"Language, Ronald!" Ginny, dressed as a fairy, snapped. "There are children!"
Ron ignored her, too.
"What do it look like, Weasley?" Draco said, "I'm a caveman."
Ron gaped at him. "Don't cave men wear clothes?"
Draco crossed his arms over his bare chest and scowled. "Of course! Don't you see loincloth around my waist?"
"You mean that tiny piece of rag that's hardly covering your bits?!"
"It's a loincloth, Weasel," Draco snapped, annoyed.
Ron didn't look convinced.
"Tell him, Harry." Draco ordered, bossily.
Harry grinned at his friend. "It is a loincloth, Ron. Draco's a caveman. The catalogue said so."
Ron continued to stare at the material around Draco's waist for a long while before he shook his head. "I need a drink," he said suddenly, and turned toward the punch bowl.
"There's no liquor here, Ron." Hermione called after him, almost smugly.
"Actually, Hermione, Fred and George came in almost ten minutes ago." Ginny provided, popping out of nowhere again.
Hermione's eyes shot to the snack table where, sure enough, Fred and George were hovering at. She growled under her breath and stormed in the direction Ron just went.
"Your friends are always so interesting, Harry." Draco said dryly.
Harry smiled. "Aren't they, though?"
"Sorry to interrupt," Ginny said, and when Harry turned to her, she was leaning against Neville's chest, swaying to the spooky music that reverberated throughout the Burrow, "but what exactly are you, Harry? I've been trying to figure it out since you first got here."
Harry glanced down at his costume in surprise. He'd thought it was obvious.
"You really can't tell, Ginny?" he asked.
When Ginny shook her head, he looked at Neville. Neville shrugged.
"I'm Professor Snape."
Ginny and Neville, as well as Charlie and Angelina, who'd somehow appeared in the middle of their conversation, gaped at him.
"How could you not tell?" Draco asked, and gave Harry's form a once—twice, thrice—over. Harry was wearing long black robes, designed to look just as the ones Snape often wore when he was a teacher, and his hair was gelled down, falling just short of his shoulders. He'd even spelled his nose to appear a little larger, and his eyes a little darker.
"See? I even have his wand."
Sure enough, Harry pulled out Snapes' wand.
"How in the world, Harry?" Neville asked, stunned.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and tried to say with his best sneer, "A Halloween catalogue, Longbottom."
Neville shivered, and Harry grinned.
"I'm getting good at it, aren't I? You should hear my drawl, too. And see my smirk! Draco's been giving me les—"
"That's quite enough, Harry. I'm sure your friends don't want to hear everything that goes on in your life." Draco interrupted, and removed his hand from where it had clamped over Harry's mouth.
"Why don't we go see who else is here?"
Harry nodded slowly, smiled at his friends uncertainly, and allowed Draco to drag him off.
No wonder Mrs. Weasley needed to enlarge the living room, Harry thought as he and Draco made their way upstairs. The woman had invited everyone she knew!
Three hours had passed since he and Draco arrived at the Burrow, and everyone who was supposed to be there had already arrived. Remus, Luna, Kingsley, Tonks, Moody, Hannah, Lavender, the Patil Twins, Oliver, Ollivander, Hagrid, Sprout, Madame Pomfrey, McGonagall, Flitwick, the rest of the Weasleys, and at least half of the auror department were downstairs, not to mention the people Harry didn't know, which quickly outnumbered the people that he did. Hell, the woman had even invited Dumbledore's portrait, which was—the last time he saw it—flirting with Madam Hooch (and Harry wouldn't think about Hooch flirting back, he absolutely wouldn't).
They entered the room that Ron and Harry used to share, shut the door behind them, and plopped onto the bed.
Draco scanned the bright room, nose wrinkled.
"Let me guess. This is Ronald's room, isn't it?"
Harry chuckled. "Yeah."
"You'd think he'd have enough of the color orange, what with it being his hair and freckle color."
"Oh, be nice, Draco."
Draco looked surprised. "Me? Not nice? Never!"
"Oh, how could I have forgotten? My apologies, Lord Malfoy."
Draco looked down his nose at him and sneered, "And don't forget it, Potter."
Harry simply grinned. With a yawn, he stretched out lazily and leaned back into the bed, his gaze facing the ceiling where the Poster of the Chudley Cannons was still plastered.
"Just a bit. Parties always wear me out."
Draco said nothing to that. Harry continued to look up at the ceiling, enjoying the sound of laughter and movement coming from downstairs.
"Wear you out, you say?"
Harryhummed in acknowledgement. His eyes where starting to drift closed.
"Well," Draco started, and Harry barely heard him through his drowsy haze, "I hope you're not too tired."
Harry was about to retort that he was, actually, getting rather sleepy, when he felt Draco's warm palm settle on his thigh, and his eyes jerked open.
"Hmm, Harry?" he asked, doing that purring-thing that made Harry's stomach tighten into knots and the place just below heat up.
"This isn't a good time, Draco. Anyone can come up." He was trying think rationally. He wasn't hard yet, but he was getting there. Better to make his argument now when he could actually think about something other than Draco. And sex. And Draco. And sex with Draco.
Ah, and it already started.
"No one will come up, Harry. Everyone's downstairs having a good time. They probably haven't even noticed we left."
Harry took a moment to consider that. There were an awfully lot of people downstairs. They probably weren't even missed.
"See?" Draco smirked, watching the decision being made in Harry's ever-darkening emerald eyes. "We won't be interrupted. Not this time."
When Draco's hand cupped his hardening cock through his jeans, and squeezed, all argument flew from Harry's mind faster than his Firebolt around a Quidditch pitch.
"Yeah," Harry sighed, and closed his eyes, fully enjoying the wonderful ministrations his cock was getting. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning to," Draco murmured, and Harry smiled through the pleasured haze that was forming in his head.
Draco's hand lifted, and just when Harry was about to complain about the lack of contact, it slid into his denim pants and touched his erection directly.
"Get me off, Draco. Please, get me off—"
"Harry? Draco? Are you in he—oh my God!"
Harry jumped at the sound of Hermione's shriek, and groaned loudly.
"What do you two think you're doing?!" Hermione squealed, and when Harry looked up, he saw that she was covering her eyes with her hands.
"Trying to have sex, is what!" Draco snapped, angrily.
Harry groaned again as Draco's hand slid out of his pants, and the contact vanished.
"Obviously," Hermione snapped again. "Mrs. Weasley asked me to get you guys. She brought out the cake." And with that she slipped out of the room, shutting the door loudly.
Moments passed before anyone moved.
"Have I ever told you that I hate Granger, Harry? Because I do. I really do."
Draco pulled himself to his knees and went off the bed.
Harry's cock tightened painfully, and he said glumly, "You're not the only one."
"Merlin, that was a lot of people, wasn't it?" Ron grumbled from the bed, and pulled the covers up to his waist.
"It was. Great, though. It's been a while since I've enjoyed myself so much. It was nice seeing everyone again." Hermione slid into the bed next to Ron, and curled to her side to face him. She pushed a lock of his red hair behind his ear, and Ron smiled at her.
"Yeah, it was. Nice having some quiet, though."
"Definitely," Hermione agreed, and they shared a laugh.
"Hey, 'Mione," Ron started.
"Yeah?" she asked, still fiddling with his hair.
"You're not tired, are you?"
Hermione paused, and furrowed her brows as if considering his question. Finally she smiled, and said coyly, "Not if you aren't."
Ron grinned and scrambled to his knees.
"No, definitely not."
He climbed over her until her waist was between his legs, and her mouth only a breath away from his face.
"You, my dear husband, have on entirely too many clothes."
"Same could be said for you," Ron murmured, and stood up to pull his night shirt over his head. He quickly went back down to place a kiss on Hermione's lips, securing his body right on top of hers.
"Let me take off your top," Ron whispered in her ear.
Hermione shivered and nodded enthusiastically.
Ron pressed soft, fluttering kissed along her cheek and jaw, and snaked his hands up her side, latching onto the hem of her tank top.
"Mm, Ron..." Hermione hummed appreciatively, arching off the bed.
"Agh!" Ron yelped, and scooted away.
"How about we play some cards? We have Uno!"
Hermione tugged her tank-top back down, face flushing furiously, and glared at the two intruders who'd just barged into their room. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She shouted.
"Us?" Harry asked innocently while conjuring up two sofa chairs. "Hanging out with our friends, of course!"
"Mate," Ron said hoarsely, eyes almost unbelievably wide, "Don't you think it's a bit late to be playing cards?!"
Draco conjured a wooden board and sauntered over to the bed. "It's never too late to play Uno," he laughed, and placed the board at the edge, in between the four of them.
"It's as Draco said," Harry agreed, and shot his lover a winning smile. Draco returned it, sweetly. They took their seats beside the bed, and Harry handed the deck of cards to Draco.
"Shuffle, love? You do a far better job at it than I do."
"I do most things better than you do," Draco quipped, but accepted the cards pleasantly.
Draco began to manually shuffle the stack, and Harry assessed his two friends carefully. Ron's face was nearly the color of his hair, and he was sporting a rather noticeable tent in his briefs.
Hermione, on the other hand, was flushed prettily—and Harry knew that it wasn't solely from embarrassment.
"How about we play Twenty-times?" Harry suggested, suddenly.
When Ron shot him a confused look, he explained. "It's the regular rules for Uno, only you play a set of twenty games between two teams."
Despite how hard they tried to conceal it, both Harry and Draco heard the frustrated groan.
"Ready to play?" Draco asked.
When Harry looked down, he realized that the cards had already been dealt.
"All night." Harry agreed, and picked up his seven cards.
Another groan, and Harry and Draco sent each other furtive smirks.
"Promises, promises." Draco joked, and put down the first card.
Yes, Vengeance was sweet.
A/N: Happy Halloween, everyone. Just so you'll know, the first ~700 or so words of this fic was first put in my "How Can I Tell You" drabble/ficlet series. I wrote a second part, which surpassed the word count for ficlets, and so I combined the two into a separate story-- into this story. The fic is very silly, I know. I hope you all enjoy this bit of Halloween Fluff. Tell me what you think, K? And thanks for reading!