Title: Food Fetish
Summary: Harry and Draco come to the realization that they're attracted to each other through the scrumptious medium of food.
Warning: References to explicit sex though nothing described in detail.
Word Count: ~1 700
Harry blamed it on the chocolate cake.
He was and yet another Ministry function, Ginny dutifully sitting at his side. This one was a "Ra! Ra! Go Aurors!" type deal. Seeing as how he was (in his eyes, unfairly) the best known Auror he wasn't able to skip it. It was boring, dull and ... boring. There was no other adjective for it. At least, it was boring until Harry had caught sight of Malfoy sitting across the hall from him.
He was eating chocolate cake. But he wasn't just eating chocolate cake. How could a bloody, stuck up, arrogant, menace to society Malfoy make the sight of spooning chocolatey goodness into his mouth go straight to Harry's straight cock? The way his tongue peeped out to greet the forkful of cake, the way his lips enveloped the utensil and slid, slowly, off the end. The way his cheeks hollowed slightly with each mouthful. They way he licked a stray crumb from his lushly full bottom lip. Harry was hard in seconds, uncomfortable and aching for the entire duration of the cake eating ordeal.
Am I gay? He wondered. It was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was. Draco Malfoy. Harry shuddered in distaste. Ginny glanced over at him questioningly. Harry gave a bashful shrug and turned to listen to yet another speech. He was grateful when Ginny slipped her hand his under the table.
No. He thought. I must have a food fetish. Harry reasoned. That was the only explanation that made sense. And yet, that night, while licking cream off Ginny's nipples and eating strawberries from between her nether lips Harry decided that, no, he must really and truly be gay. Because neither the food nor Ginny were doing it for him.
Draco blamed it on the coffee.
Entering the Ministry was always a pain in the arse. He still recieved glares from all sides, despite having worked there for three and a half years now. He didn't let the glares bother him but he did have to be careful they didn't lead to something else. He'd caught curses in the back before when he'd let his guard down, and that was in a department FULL of Aurors. As it was he was too busy watching his back to watch his front as he entered the lift. He didn't realize it was already occupied until he bumped into someone.
"Malfoy." Said a strangled voice. Draco whipped his head around and came nose to nose with none other than Potter. Draco's eyes narrowed. It figured.
"Potter." Said Malfoy snootily. The doors to the lift closed and Malfoy stayed where he was.
"Umm ... mind giving me some personal space?" Potter said, in a still rather strangled voice. Draco's eyes narrowed even more because a) Potter smelled divine, like black coffee, fresh woods and man and b) Draco thought his tone of voice sounded all too suspicious. Because he was dedicated to researching anything remotely suspicious (but mostly because he was a stubborn prat) Draco refused to move.
"What's wrong, Potter? Think you're so good you shouldn't have to share a lift with anyone else? Or do you just not want to be caught sharing space with a fag?" Malfoy chose the harshest word, the one people who tormented his liked to use. Harry shifted uneasily, causing their shoulders and thighs to brush. Serves him right if he's a homophobe.
"You're standing way to close." He mumbled. Draco noted he was flushed and had a (delicious) sheen of perspiration gathering at his collarbones.
"So why don't you back up?" Draco asked in a softly sweet voice.
"I'm already at the back of the lift!" Harry cried. Draco looked past him. His back was flush against the wall, essentially cornered in by Malfoy. Malfoy took a tiny step closer and gave Harry a wicked grin.
"Why, so you are." A bell chimed as the lift came a halt. Malfoy spun around just as the doors opened and exited quickly. Too quickly to notice Potter adjust his pants under his robes. As he walked away he berated himself reacting so childishly, for letting Potter get under his skin. But damn if Potter didn't smell mouthwatering.
Ginny blamed it on the tomato soup.
"I ... I can't stay for lunch, Gin." Harry stuttered. He stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched, head down.
"Come on," she cajoled. "The office can spare you for an hour. I've just made soup!" She grabbed his arm and tugged him playfully over to the fragrant pot.
"Gin, I ... We need to talk." Ginny froze at the sound of those words. Those, hateful, hateful words. "I just, I don't think we're right for each other anymore. I think we're staying together out of habit, out of comfort. I don't think we excite each other anymore."
In one half of her brain Ginny understood and the words made perfectly logical sense. In the other half she was already bawling her eyes out.
"I'm sorry." Harry expelled a huge breath and tugged at his hair. His messy, beloved hair. He put a hand out to touch her back.
"Just go." Ginny said quietly. The bawling half of her was quickly winning and she didn't want him to be here to see it. "I'll be alright." She said, when she caught sight of his face. Poor Harry, hating to hurt other people. "Go." She insisted.
It was only when he was long gone and she was curled up on the floor, empty of tears that she remembered. Harry hated tomato soup.
Ron blamed it on the lemon pie.
"You WHAT?" He shrieked. Okay, so maybe the very public corridor in the Auror Department was the wrong place for this conversation but it wasn't his fault. He was in shock.
"Ibrokepwifginny." Harry mumbled unitelligably.
"YOU BROKE UP WITH GINNY." He repeated. Harry lowered his head to his hands. So much for keeping this quiet. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to tell Ron at work? The other Aurors were conspicuously trying to inconspicuously edge closer. The better to get the latest gossip. Harry sighed and tried to salvage the situation.
"Ron, it's complicated ... let's talk about this after work, yeah?"
"YOU ... BROKE UP ... WITH ... GINNY." Harry couldn't tell from the redness of Ron's face if he was so angry he was itching for a fight or if his shock had busted a blood vessel somewhere in his brain. He honestly didn't know how to deal with this. He never thought that this particular situation would arise.
"That's what he said, Weasel. Or has the shock of this terrible news obliterated what was left of your IQ?" Harry had never been so glad to see Draco Malfoy. They locked eyes. It took Harry a moment to register his expression. It was neither snide, nor mocking, nor mean. In fact, it was ... understanding. Harry realized Malfoy was coming to his aid by voluntarily giving Ron a way to vent his anger.
Harry was relieved until, from the corner of his eye he saw the cute secretary who constantly tried to flirt with him approach. No! Thought Harry. Turn around! Go away!
"Hi Harry!" She said brightly. "I made you a pie!" The three Aurors stared at her. Then Ron, clumsily and in slow motion, took the pie and planted it directly in Malfoy's face. The tin dropped to the ground, followed by globs of lemon and cream. Ron and Malfoy eyed each other blankly, one in shock, the other in pie. Finally Ron managed to knit his eyebrows together and give Draco an angry nod before marching off, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. Harry finally pulled himself together.
"Now is not a very good time, Shelly." Harry said to the secretary. Ignoring the sniggering of their audience Harry gently took hold of Malfoy's arm. "Why don't you step into my office and we'll get you cleaned up?"
They entered the office and Harry closed the door to keep any of the other Aurors from trying to peep in and make fun of Malfoy. Draco cast a mild cleansing spell then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wet it and began to dab at his robes. He looked up to find Harry watching him.
"They're silk, you know." He said neutrally.
"I'm sorry. I'll pay for their dry cleaning." Malfoy nodded and went back to dabbing. Harry went to step around him but noticed a tiny bit of meringue left on the lobe of his ear. He reached out to wipe it off at the same time that Malfoy stepped forward and with a flourish of his arms announced "Done."
Once again they found themselves nose to nose. This time Draco's arms were extended to either side of Harry while Harry's right arm was almost curved around Draco's shoulders.
"Umm ..." Harry said, watching Draco's eyes darken with desire.
"Umm ..." Draco repeated. He lifted a brow but there was no sting in it with his eyes glued to Harry's lips. Harry's eyes slid to the small patch of cream on his ear.
"You missed a spot." He said breathily. He leaned forward and licked it off before trailing his tongue along the curve of the lobe. Draco moaned and before either of them knew it they were wrapped up in each other, half naked and writhing on the desk.
In the Atrium Ron took a final deep breath and calmed himself before heading back to the office. He had no idea what had come over him and while he was sure Harry had sufficiently apologized for Ron's actions, Ron knew that he needed to say sorry to Malfoy about the pie. He stopped in at Malfoy's office but he wasn't there. Wondering if Malfoy was giving Harry a hard time Ron made his way over to Harry's office.
Ron opened the door and saw something he had never, ever, ever wanted to see. Ever. He wasn't even sure how that was possible. He quietly closed the door, chalked it up to a hallucination from the day's shock and went home.
Title: A Lesson In Anger Management
Summary: Ron receives a lesson in controlling his temper by none other than Draco Malfoy.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns all rights.
Warning: Slash. Questionable Consent. Rated M for a reason.