Title: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Scene: Takes place in Draco and Harry's shared dorm room at Hogwarts

Summary: It's Draco's nineteenth birthday and Harry wants to give him a present (8th year fic, established relationship, though no one else knows)

Pairings: DM/HP

Rating: I rated this M for no other reason than the few f-words. Oh wait...for the sex too.

Warning: This story is m/m slash...if you don't care for that sort of thing, please don't bother reading. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! At least, nothing that's Harry Potter...all of that, of course, belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

A/N: This was supposed to have been posted on June 5, as that was Draco Malfoy's actual birthday, but I was pretty upset that day (still am), due to learning of Lucien's (DevientGrey) passing (back in April, I guess). Since that day last week, I've tried to work on this, but haven't really gotten anywhere...so I've decided to post it, as is. Miss you, Luc...I hope you are resting peacefully. *hugs*

Posted: Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Word Count: 2,434 (this ONLY includes actual story, please disregard the "word count" provided by )

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

June 5, 1999

After slipping out of his own four-poster—to use the toilet—Harry padded back into the dorm room he shared with Draco Malfoy, then sat down on his own bed and looked at the other young man in the low candlelight. The blond was still asleep—fast asleep—but Harry wasn't at all surprised. Today might be Draco Malfoy's nineteenth birthday, but he regularly slept like the dead—unlike Harry, who could usually be awakened quite easily, because he didn't seem to require much sleep.

Glancing at Draco's trunk, which, like Harry's, was sitting at the foot of his bed, the dark-haired young man smiled at the pile of gifts that had arrived over the last few days for his roommate. The stack was massive! At least to Harry, who wasn't accustomed to so many presents, it was—and he was dying to know what was in each and every one of them, even if they were for his roommate and not him.

Shifting his gaze to the window between their beds, Harry took up his wand and flicked it to part the heavy curtains—hoping to find it light outside (it wasn't)—then cast a quick Tempus charm to find out the actual time. This only caused Harry to sigh. It was early—just half seven—and Draco didn't like to get up early, especially on a Saturday.

Upon returning to Hogwarts to finish their magical studies after the war, all those in Harry's year had been moved into a new House, where they had to share their lives with the others who'd chosen to come back as well. Only twenty of their original forty had returned.

Their new common room was on the fifth floor and it was gloriously spacious. It had its own kitchen and dining room (which they were required to use for certain meals), a few study areas, and several semi-private dorms—four on the main floor and six on the next floor up—where they were paired up alphabetically. At first they'd balked, because they couldn't see themselves living in harmony with people so different—people they'd all but hated. They thought it would be impossible to put aside all the old hurts, especially when forced to room with a rival—but they'd actually done rather well. Better than well in Harry and Draco's case. No one seemed to be paying them much attention, because everyone had their own things going on, but Harry and Draco had long-since buried their hexes and had found a way to co-exist. In fact, they were doing even better than that. Though none of their friends or housemates were the wiser, Harry and Draco had been sleeping together for some time now.

Well, they'd been having sex. Sleeping together—in the same bed—was nearly impossible since someone could walk in on them at any time and neither were ready for something like that to happen. They hadn't really talked about it, but both knew the other wasn't planning—or expecting—anything long-term. Draco knew Harry loved, and planned on marrying, "the Weaselette"...and Harry knew that Draco wouldn't back out of his arranged marriage. This...arrangement...between the two of them, was just for now—and they were both fine with that.

But Harry really, really, really wanted Draco to wake up—and so, after scanning the room, Harry grinned slyly and moved to pick up something off his bedside table. It was a quill he'd abandoned there at some point in the last day or so. Lifting the feathered writing device, Harry turned and crept toward Draco's large bed, then stopped to gaze down at him before proceeding. Draco was lying halfway between his back and his left side, facing Harry, with his bed sheets pulled all the way up to his chin and his slender fingers curled around the edges. The blond looked to be completely at peace, which was something Harry had rarely seen on Draco's face—and Harry thought he looked adorable.

It was odd how his new-found...relationship? with the blond caused Harry to find him less pale and pointy. No. Scratch that. Draco was pale—as pale as ever—but now Harry found it attractive. But, instead of pointy, all Harry could see were the defined lines of the other young man's fine bones. He was almost pretty in Harry's eyes now.

But Harry wouldn't dare tell Draco such a thing, because the man would most probably become furious about such a thing. Harry hated it when Draco's now warm gray eyes turned cold and angry. There'd been a time, not long ago, that he would have almost enjoyed tormenting the gray-eyed young man, but that time was no longer.

Smiling, because it was nice to see all of Draco's worries relaxed off his face in sleep, Harry leaned forward and, using the quill in his hand, ran it along the exposed right side of the blond's face. For several swipes, Draco didn't move—until Harry ran it under his nose. And then Draco's nose twitched and he flexed his fingers up as if to swat away some annoying flying pest. Harry had to cover his mouth with his free hand to prevent laughter from coming forth.

Quickly, Draco settled and Harry started in again. This time, when the tickling became too much, the blond man ran a hand over his entire face, mumbling something—possibly in French—that Harry couldn't understand. After several more flutters of the quill, Draco slapped at it, knocking it from Harry's hand, then rolled over. This sent Harry into a silent fit of giggles as he moved to retrieve his fallen torture device.

Now, he had two choices. He could either attempt to get on the bed to continue his mission, or he could circle around and do the same from the other side. He opted for the latter, since moving onto the bed was more likely to end his fun. And so he went around the bed and started in again—running the feather down Draco's now-uncovered left arm.

For what seemed like forever, Draco didn't move. But then he turned—almost violently—from his right side to his back slapping his left arm back down on the bed and turning his head slightly away from Harry. Harry snickered at this; he couldn't help himself.

After another pause, because he had to wait for Draco's breathing to even out again, Harry decided to move onto the bed. Carefully, the dark-haired young man maneuvered himself up, then crawled closer to Draco, settling himself on his knees on the sleeping man's right side. Then smiling, Harry lifted the quill and ran it from Draco's neck, across his pale scarred chest, and over his flat abdomen that was now exposed down to his hip bones—then watched as tiny chill bumps rose. So fascinated Harry was that he didn't see the blond's eyes snap open, or have enough time to react to the hand that snaked out, snatched the quill away from him, and tossed it across the room.

"What the fuck are you doing, Potter?" Draco growled as he grabbed Harry's arm, pulled down hard, and rolled the dark-haired young man over to his back. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to tickle a sleeping dragon?"

For a millisecond, Harry was too shocked to respond. But then he grinned and, ignoring Draco's second question, said, "Just trying to wake you up. It's your birthday."

"Thank you for the information, Potter," the blond said with a sneer reminiscent of days of old, "but I'm well aware that today is my birthday."

"You have presents," pushed Harry.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, that is what tends to occur on the celebration of one's day of birth."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Not on mine."

Confused, Draco frowned. "Never?"

Harry shrugged. "Mostly." Then, when the blond didn't say anything, Harry continued. "You've met my relatives, Malfoy. Did they seem particularly generous to you?"

"Hmm. Point taken," Draco said. "But, you do have friends."

Smiling, Harry nodded. "That I do."

Still pinning Harry to the bed, Draco then grinned. "Well, since I have you flat on your back and it is my birthday," the blond said as he ground his morning erection down into Harry's now equally hard cock.

"No. Uh-uh!" Harry protested, squirming to free his hands. "It's my turn."

Frowning, Draco sat back slightly.

"Come on, Malfoy, you said I was ready," Harry pressed.

"But...it's my birthday, Potter. I should have a say in this."

Harry shook his head. "You've had a say every other time. Let me do this for you...for your birthday. Please, Draco?"

And Draco melted. Hearing his name pass Harry's lips, coupled with a please, was all it took. With a nervous smile, the blond nodded. "All right," he whispered.

Gently, Harry pushed Draco off of him and to his back, then slowly stripped them both of their bottoms.

"Do you remember the spell?" Draco asked, obviously worried that the man hovering over him would forget something important—like lubrication—and permanently damage him.

Rolling his eyes, Harry leaned down and peppered kisses over the blond man's face. "I know what I'm doing...you taught me well. I promise," he said, as he nibbled down Draco's neck. "Trust me."

Draco nodded. "Of course I trust you," he said quietly, forcing himself to relax. This was not, after all, the first time he'd bottomed, though it was the first time he'd bottomed for Harry. "Oh!" he wailed when the dark-haired man's mouth engulfed his hard cock. "That's...good, Potter."

Harry pulled back and looked up into Draco's eyes. "Could you at least try to use my first name during sex?"

Blinking, Draco stared at him, then nodded. "Of course...Harry," the blond said.

And Harry responded by grinning—then wrapped his hand around Draco's cock and fed it back into his mouth.

"Oh Merlin, H-Harry," Draco gasped after several rather deep draws on his throbbing member. "You s-sure are good at...t-this!"

Harry grinned around the flesh in his mouth, but managed to keep his timing spot on—the way he knew Draco liked it—then, when the blond threaded his fingers into Harry's perpetually messy hair and gripped tightly, Harry allowed the man below him to take some control and fuck his mouth. While Draco was busy finding his own pleasure, Harry swirled a finger in his own dripping saliva and slowly worked it around and into Draco's arse. At first it seemed as if the blond hadn't noticed—so absorbed in thrusting into Harry's mouth, he was—but then, when Harry added a second finger, the other man gasped and eased his grasp on Harry's hair. And then Harry's fingers found what he'd been searching for, causing Draco's hands to fall to the bed and clutch at the sheets.

"The s-spell, Harry," Draco rasped out. "Now."

Pulling off Draco's cock with a wet slurping sound, Harry glanced at their door and wandlessly said, "Muffliato," then looked back at the blond and whispered, "Lubricus"—which caused Draco to moan and shudder at the slippery sensation the spell caused—then leaned in and ran his tongue over Draco's shaft, from base to tip, then back down again, gently nibbling on the blond's sac when he got to it...all the while sliding his hand playfully up and over the end of Draco's cock.

"Stop fucking with me, Potter!" Draco growled when it seemed like the other man wasn't going to do anything more than tease him.

Harry chuckled, but continued to kiss and lick...and tease. "I thought that's what I was supposed to do."

Ignoring his sarcasm, Draco let out several more long deep moans—because, even if it was torture, it felt damned good—then grabbed Harry by the hair again and gave him a hard yank. "Are you going to fuck me or not?"

Not needing to be told twice, Harry abandoned his play and crawled up Draco's body, kissing him all over his stomach, scared chest, and lovely neck, then moving back down to the man's nipples while lining himself up with Draco's hole and pushing slowly into the man's ready body. For a moment, Draco's body seized up, making Harry think he was in pain—but then Draco screamed at him.

"Move, Harry!" Draco demanded. Then, all but begging, the blond said, "Please move."

And Harry did move. Giving several slow searching thrusts, Harry located Draco's sweet spot, then drove himself into it over and over again until Draco was screaming incoherently—and then coming without Harry even touching his cock again.

And that sent Harry over the edge as well, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he emptied himself into the man below him. Finally, exhausted—and completely drained—Harry collapsed onto Draco's sticky body.

~ xXx ~

"Don't fall asleep, Potter," Draco ordered after a short time. "We can't afford to be caught."

With a moan, Harry nodded. "Right," he agreed as he moved to get up. Searching for his pajama bottoms, he frowned when he only found Draco's. "Yours," he said, holding them out to the young man who'd not yet gotten up.

Draco held out a hand to accept his bottoms, whispering a charm to clean them up, but didn't move otherwise.

"I can't find mine," Harry complained, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

"They're right here, Potter," the blond said, pulling them out from underneath him. But, before Harry could take them, Draco tossed them off the bed and onto the floor.

Frowning, Harry scrambled off the bed to fetch his intentionally dropped pajama bottoms. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he asked as he picked them up.

Smirking, Draco said, "So that you'd have to bend over and get them."

"Merlin, Draco," Harry bitched as he yanked them on, glaring red-faced at the other man the whole time. "You pervert!"

But the gray-eyed man's grin was hard to resist and soon Harry was smiling again.

"Are you going to bring me my birthday presents or what, Potter?" Draco asked, waving arrogantly at the massive pile.

Grinning, Harry immediately went to Draco's trunk and started bringing the birthday boy his gifts. "Mine first," he said after piling all of Draco's presents around him.

With a smile and a shrug, Draco picked up the first of Harry's three gifts and started opening.

~ The End ~

The school motto, which appears on the crest, is "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," which means "Never tickle a sleeping dragon."

Post Script: I intended to make the gift-opening part of this, but then just...didn't. Sorry. I do have the list of gifts given (and by whom) all written out though, so...if there's any interest, I'll post it. =) Thank you for reading.

Post Post Script: If you find any typos...TELL ME...I want to fix them! TY