Football Drabble: The World Cup - England v Paraguay
Here is Drabble Request Number Four, which is also a Football Drabble. It’s from dihall who requested How about smutty (you know those pervy penguins) post-war H/D and "jello shooters" is the prompt. Drunken debauchery - we love it.
I hope it fits in with dihall’s drabble request -- if you squint at it a little and then look at it sideways. Nor, at nearly 5000 words, is it a drabble. I should also point out that football is known as soccer in many countries, including America.
As for a rating, it falls into the NC-17 category.
Thanks to lagreyeyes for a certain suggestion which I’ve used here.
And finally, this is unbeta-ed and a little rushed to get it out in time. Please ignore any mistakes
The World Cup - England v Paraguay
Location: A house somewhere in the South of England. I can’t tell you where exactly because it is unplottable thanks to the anti-location spells on it.
The date: Saturday 10th June 2006.
Early morning ... about 5am
Picking up his cup of coffee, Draco Malfoy sauntered leisurely across the lounge to the huge glass doors that took up most of one wall to give a magnificent view of the garden surrounding the house he shared with Harry. Pushing back the light voile curtains covering the glass, he opened the door and stepped out into the patio. He loved this time of day, when the world was quiet and still, and the only sound was that of the dawn chorus.
The sun was just above the low hills, already climbing into a cloudless sky and Draco sipped at his cup with a “Mmmmm” of approval at the taste. He loved his first coffee of the day and being able to enjoy it like this, in the peace and quiet of the dawn was just exquisite.
Of course, the garden wouldn’t be a place of tranquillity in another six hours. By then Harry’s football-loving friends would have descended, first for lunch, then for the football match itself, which would be followed by something called a ‘barbecue’, which seemed to be a Muggle experience involving cooking outside. Lunch would be pleasant (except for the constant talk about the F-word), but he wasn’t sure barbecues were a good idea. Why not use the perfectly acceptable kitchen to cook in rather than the grill thing Harry had brought home a couple of days ago? When Draco had asked why anyone` would want to cook outside, Harry’s reply had been that according to the weather forecast, it would be “perfect for a barbecue”.
He crossed to a garden bench and sat down, resting his cup on the arm. Turning his face towards the sun, he closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth. It always amused him that people thought he hated the sun because his pale colouring would mean he burned easily. The truth was he burned no easier than anyone else and that he was perfectly capable of getting a nice tan. Maybe not as good as Harry’s tan, but then his lover’s colouring was much more suited to going a gorgeous bronze which he wanted to lick off. Draco enjoyed lounging in the garden on a warm sunny day, especially if Harry was lounging with him. And they had the perfect private garden to lounge naked whenever they wanted.
But there would be no naked lounging today, not with the worry their guests might arrive early. He mentally ticked off the list of who would be sharing his little idyll today. There would be Neville Longbottom and his new, already pregnant, wife Luna. Then Dean Thomas and his Muggle finance whose name Draco had temporarily forgotten; he would have to check with Harry. Seamus Finnigan didn’t look like he would ever settle down and if the house hadn’t been unplottable with personal wards, he might very well have brought his latest girl- or boyfriend depending on his current pleasures. Draco had refused to let a total stranger visit despite Harry’s ardent pleading, he hadn’t warded the house this strongly to just let anyone in.
Last but not least would be Hermione and her husband Severus Snape. At least in Severus, Draco had someone to conspire with while everyone else shouted and screamed at Harry’s Huge Television -- someone else who didn’t like football. They would bring their two-year-old son George with them and that thought made Draco smile. He was Georgie’s godfather and he enjoyed looking after the boy whenever they visited.
“Morning, love, what are you doing out here?”
A pair of arms slithered around Draco’s neck and a hand pushed into the neckline of the baggy tee shirt he’d pulled on before coming outside. He leaned back and rested his head against Harry’s abdomen. “Watching the sunrise.” He liked sunrises; there was something hopeful about them, that another day was beginning. Sunsets might be beautiful and romantic, but they seemed like endings to Draco when one was left wondering if the dawn would ever come again.
“Was it a good one?” The hand down his shirt flicked lazily over Draco’s left nipple as Harry nuzzled into sun-warmed blond hair.
“It was perfect.” He leaned backwards and Harry’s nuzzling reached his forehead, then his nose and cheeks, and finally his lips.”
“You taste of coffee.”
“And you taste of toothpaste.”
Behind him Harry chuckled and, clearly satisfied with the way the left nipple had hardened under his fingers, attacked Draco’s right nipple. Draco reached over his head and curled his fingers around Harry’s hip where he touched bare flesh. A sly grin slowly grew on his face.
“Harry, are you naked.”
The chuckle came again and Harry nibbled briefly at Draco’s ear. “I might be.”
“Then come here, you brazen little hussy.” Quickly Draco pulled Harry around the bench. The other man was, indeed, quite naked and already hard. The sight made his own penis twitch in expectation and when Harry climbed onto the bench, legs kneeling either side of his own, he shifted forward a little until, allowing Harry to push against him. “Do we have time? What with all the things you said you have to get ready for later.”
Harry’s hard length ground against him and Draco gave a throaty groan as he responded by licking at his lover’s chest.
“Well, Draco, my love, unless you’ve suddenly learned how to sustain an orgasm for several hours, I think we’ll have time for a quick shag in the garden and then another in the shower before you help me prepare the salads for lunch.”
---
Early afternoon ... just after noon
“Afternoon, Drake. Looking forward to the match then?” Seamus Finnigan knew no shame and was probably the only person who would dare to push Draco just that little bit further than anyone else. He slapped Draco on the shoulder and would probably have pulled him into a friendly hug if the other man hadn’t held back.
Draco gave a smile that was no more than a twitch of his mouth and if Finnigan noticed the slight, he just ignored it as he left what looked like a crate of beer bottles on the table. At least the beer was Stella Artois, rather than the awful stuff Finnigan had contributed last time they’d had a party.
“Harry said he got you an England kit. Are we going to see it?”
The new voice was female and Draco turned just as the newcomer placed what looked to be a very rich Pavlova on the kitchen table. It oozed fresh cream and raspberries, and Draco all but licked his lips at the sight. Except the person carrying it was Ginny Weasley and seeing her ignited a little jealous flame deep in his belly. Ginny had lusted after Harry ever since their school days and he had no reason to believe that she still wasn’t carrying a torch for him ten years later.
“Hope you didn’t mind me bringing a date, Draco. Harry said it would be okay and Ginny here likes nothing better than watching men in shorts.” Finnigan prodded her in the side with his elbow and smirked lasciviously, and Draco couldn’t help but remember that the other man swung both ways and had made passes at Harry on more than one occasion. He wondered for a moment what he could do to persuade Harry to change out of his shorts into something that covered his legs completely ... full-length robes for example.
His gaze flicked between the two. “Harry didn’t say you were seeing each others.”
“Well, you know what our Harry is like,” Finnigan put an arm around Ginny’s waist and squeezed. “Never one to spill the beans.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “And besides, we’re just good friends, isn’t that true, Ginny dear?”
Ginny gave a little smile. “I’m only here for the football, Draco. Men in shorts.” The smile grew. “And Harry has such nice legs.”
---
Afternoon ... 2pm
Paraguay kick off and England’s World Cup campaign is under way.
3 minutes into the match: GOAL England 1-0 Paraguay
England takes the lead, David Beckham swinging in a free-kick and Paraguay defender Carlos Gamarra glancing the ball past his goalkeeper Justo Villar.
2.49pm
HALF-TIME: England lead 1-0 after the first half of their World Cup opener against Paraguay.
---
Harry found Hermione in the master bedroom; he’d been looking for Draco and was surprised to see her there. Not that he minded her being there, he just wondered what she was doing. She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window which overlooked the same view as the lounge below and it took him a moment to realise that there was a camera in her hand.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder at his approach and gave an indulgent smile. “I thought you would be celebrating with the lads.”
He smiled back and stopped beside her. “One goal up is a good start.” The sound of happy laughter drifted up the stairs from the lounge below and he could just make out Neville’s voice singing.
”Three lions on your shirt, Jules Remet still gleaming, thirty years of hurt never stopped me dreaming....”
They looked at each other and grimaced. “Ouch, that is really painful.” Harry laughed. “I didn’t think Neville had had that much to drink.”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s not the drink, Harry, it’s Dean’s jello shooter things.”
He looked a little confused. “Those little jelly things?”
She nodded. “His brother’s studying in America and apparently he came home with the recipe. It’s made with vodka.”
“Vodka? I nearly gave one to Georgie.”
“Thank goodness you didn’t, though Sev would probably say that’s one way of getting his son to sleep. Apparently the red ones are okay. It’s the orange ones that have the vodka in them.”
“Ah, okay. I’ll remember that. Where is George? I haven’t seen him since fifteen minutes into the match.”
Hermione pointed out of the window. “He’s with Draco -- on the hammock.”
Harry looked down into the garden. In the shade of one of the huge oak trees was Draco’s latest purchase, a very large hammock and on it was Draco who appeared to be reading to George who was cuddled up beside his godfather. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “Is that what you were taking pictures of?”
She nodded. “I’ll send you a copy. They just look so sweet and I knew if I went out there the moment would be spoiled. You know what Draco’s like with having his photo taken. He’d really good with George.”
“Mmm.” Harry nodded and with a sigh he subconsciously rested a finger on the glass as if touching the man. “He’d make a great dad.”
“So would you.”
“But it’s not going to happen, is it?” He watched as Hermione looked at him, a frown of non-comprehension on her face. “I mean, we’re never going to be parents are we? The Potter and Malfoy family names both end here with us.” Below, in the garden, Draco turned a page of the book and George pointed animatedly at the picture.
“Does that worry you? I know you’ve talked about children before.”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve thought about adoption, but I’m not sure Draco would do that.”
“Why?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be his son or daughter ... not his natural one and he once mentioned that for a Malfoy to inherit they had to be blood relatives.” He pursed his lips, forming a thin line, as he remembered the one conversation he’d had with Draco on the subject. His lover had explained slowly and carefully as if he were talking to an idiot exactly what it meant to be the Malfoy heir in terms of the legal niceties. It remained Harry of all the pure-blood rhetoric he’d hated since first finding out that he was a wizard. He felt Hermione’s arm move around his waist and his own slid around her shoulders. “Back in our last year at school, his parents arranged a marriage for him.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “A pretty girl called Gwladus.”
“The Llewelyn Gwladus? Who married Marcell Schneider last month?”
“That’s the one. She was supposed to marry Draco and even though he never talks about her I sometimes wonder if....”
“But he loves you.” Hermione’s arm tightened about him.
“Oh, I know he does, I’ve never doubted that. I just sometimes wonder about not being able to give him what he most wants. Maybe not yet, but next year or five years from now, what if he wants a child enough to find himself a wife?”
Hermione started to answer but stopped as first one of the pet cats and then her husband came into the bedroom. “Severus.”
The newcomer looked at them and raised an eyebrow at their posture. “I came to tell you that the second half has started, but I can see you are both occupied.”
“We are watching your son and his godfather, and getting all emotional about it.” She pointed out the window and waited as Severus strode over and looked. He still scowled a lot and hadn’t lost any of his caustic wit, but his expression softened as he watched his son.
“I hope that book is suitable for someone George’s age.”
---
Afternoon ... 3.52pm
FULL-TIME: England defeat Paraguay 1-0 in their World Cup opener.
---
“Well,” Seamus reached for his half-finished bottle of beer and took a mouthful. “We were lucky there. Good first half and really bad second half.”
Dean nodded as he reached for the remote control to turn down the sound of the post-match debate. “But we won ... that’s three points, can’t fault that.”
“Perhaps we should watch the match between Sweden and Trinidad & Tobago.” Severus was already looking through Harry’s World Cup fixtures list to check for the time. “After all, they are the other two teams England have to play.”
“Excuse me!”
Everyone in the spacious lounge turned towards the kitchen door where Draco leaned against the jamb, a silly grin on his face. In one hand was a spoon and in the other a small empty shot glass that had once contained something orange and jelly-like. He held up the glass. “Are there anymore of these things?”
---
Evening ... about 6.45pm
Harry’s fingers played absently in Draco’s hair as he watched the closing moments of the Trinidad & Tobago v Sweden match. They hadn’t planned on watching a second match, but what Severus had said almost three hours ago made sense. England would be playing both teams in the first round, so it really was a case of ‘Know Thine Enemy’. It had come as a surprise to everyone to find that the Potions Master had fallen under the spell of the Beautiful Game and Draco had been particularly put out to find that his one-time companion, his old Head of House, had turned against and joined the Gryffindor horde.
Draco had finally come into the lounge not long after the second half and Harry was pleased to see that Draco had changed into his red England shirt, white shorts and red sock. But all the chairs were taken and for a moment Harry had thought the other man was going to leave and he was just about to get up when Draco had dropped to the floor and leaned back against Harry’s leg. They had fallen into a companionable silence with Draco gently stroking at Harry’s shin as he watched the match while Harry played with Draco’s hair just the way he knew his lover enjoyed.
Occasionally Draco would make a comment about the match and it made Harry smile to hear him come up with wild responses to other people’s comments. His smile grew with pleasure as he realised that he was with his closest friends on a fine sunny evening doing something completely mundane. They weren’t chasing Death Eaters or being hunted down by people trying to kill them.
This, Harry decided, was just normality and they were doing what thousands of other people were doing. He gave a contented sigh and gently tugged at Draco’s hair until the other man looked up. Draco gave a smile that almost always reduced Harry to a quivering limp Squib and he shifted forward so that he could kiss those smiling lips. “Okay?” he whispered against them.
“I’m fine,” came the quiet answer as Draco turned a little to kiss Harry’s bare knee.
He nibbled on Draco’s ear and was surprised when Draco pushed him gently away with a hiss of “I’m watching!”
The ardent comment made Harry smile and he ruffled Draco’s hair as he wondered just how many of Dean’s jelly things Draco had eaten.
As the final whistle blew to end the game at a nil-nil draw, Draco scrambled to his feet and pointed at the television. “Now that was a match. They didn’t win, but look at the way they played? They held off the other team with one less player. That’s the team I want to support.”
Everyone stared open-mouthed as Draco scrabbled for his wand. He flourished it in a rather flamboyant manner, which reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart, and as Draco cast the spell what had once been an England team shirt changed into the colours of Trinidad and Tobago.
--
Evening ... a little after 10.30pm
Harry finally found Draco in the garden lounging in the hammock. He stumbled a little as he crossed the grass and wondered whether it was tiredness or maybe just a little too much to drink. In his hand was an almost full bottle of Champagne but it hadn’t occurred to him to bring any glasses with him.
Stopping at the side of the hammock he leaned a hand on the side, only to have the side sank down. “Oh.” He let go and the hammock rocked from side to side, the motion enough to rouse Draco from wherever his thoughts had taken him. Even in the darkness he could just make out Draco’s smile.
“Has everyone gone?”
“Yep.” Handing the bottle to Draco, Harry scrambled carefully onto the hammock, which swayed with every movement he made. Finally he managed to kneel either side of Draco’s hips and he sat down, wriggling slightly against the man beneath him. “Seamus and Ginny have just left.”
“And didn’t they make the perfect couple,” Draco mocked as he drank from the bottle only to end up coughing as the Champagne bubbles caught in his throat. “They deserve each other.”
“Don’t be so mean.” Harry leaned forward to kiss and lick at Draco’s lips. They tasted sweet and he wondered if it was the Champagne. The hard bottle clinked against his shoulder as Draco’s arms wound around him and he felt the wine inside run from the bottle onto his shirt and down his neck. “Watch it!” He pulled away a little and reached for the bottle. “You’re getting it all over me.”
“What?”
“The Champagne ... you’ve spilled it all down my neck. Now I’m all sticky.”
“Here.” Draco sat up, the hammock rocking as he did so, and Harry settled on his lap. He pulled at Harry’s white England shirt and after a moment’s hesitation, Harry quickly took it off and threw it over the side of the hammock. “Now, let me clean you all up.” Carefully and deliberately Draco began to lick at Harry’s neck, long strokes which made Harry purr with delight and when Draco finally pulled away, he was very tempted to pour some more over himself just so Draco would continue.
Harry took a swig from the bottle and swallowed. Both he and Draco had already drunk quite a lot, and the Champagne made his mind a little hazy. What would it be like, he wondered to kiss Draco while he had the Champagne in his mouth? Could he pass the bubbles onto Draco and feel them explode around his lover’s mouth?
He decided to leave that until he didn’t feel so hazy and instead twisted a hand into Draco’s shirt. The spell Draco had cast on it earlier had faded and it was now the red England shirt Harry had given to him. “Take this off.”
Draco smirked and with Harry still sitting astride his hips he managed to pulled it off. The hammock swayed as he tossed the shirt over the side to join the one Harry had thrown earlier. He lay back down and Harry’s fingers ghosted across his abdomen.
“I wish I could see you better.” Harry murmured thoughtfully as he explored the body beneath him with long strokes of his fingers. The movement ceased as he muttered a quiet incantation. Suddenly the air around them was full of fireflies, their gentle glow just enough to see each other by. “There, that’s better. Now, where was I?”
“I think you were going to shag me.” The other man’s chuckle was a pleasant timbre.
“Out here? In the hammock?” Harry tipped the bottle and dribbled a line of Champagne over Draco’s chest and down his torso. The wine ran into his armpits, filled the little depression of Draco’s navel and ran down either side of his torso. He moved a little further down the supine body before leaning forward to lick and suck at the Champagne. “My plan was for you to shag me.”
Draco moaned as Harry pushed up his arm, licking at the hair where some of the Champagne had run. “I’m not sure I’m up to much shagging at the moment -- after what I drank earlier.”
Harry nuzzled at Draco’s neck before moving to the pulse point in the hollow at the base of his throat. He pulled back and dribbled a little more Champagne on the spot before dipping in his tongue. “How many of those jelly things did you have?”
“Before or after I found out they had alcohol in them?”
“Both.” He took another swig from the bottle and held it out to Draco’s lip.
Draco took a mouthful and swallowed before pulling Harry down into a kiss. The movement brought Harry from his knees and he lay full-length against the body beneath him, hips aligned and grinding against each other. The friction built as the kiss deepened and Harry allowed Draco’s tongue into his mouth, enjoying the way his lover felt and tasted.
Gasping for air, Harry reluctantly pulled away. “You see, I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re ineb.... Inebery.... Drunk.”
Draco huffed in annoyance. “I am not drunk. I’m just a little squiffy.”
“Squiffy?” Harry crawled back down Draco’s body and tipped some more Champagne into the depression of his navel.
“Squiffy. My mother never became drunk -- she was always just a little squiffy. Which means just a little drunk.”
Harry sniggered and poked the tip his tongue into the Champagne-filled navel, lapping at it like a cat. “As opposed to being a lot drunk I suppose.” Draco squirmed beneath him, hips pushing up from the fabric of the hammock as he attempted to get Harry’s tongue to probe deeper.
The hammock rocked dangerously as Harry scrambled between Draco’s legs. It rocked some more as he attempted to divest the other man of the remainder of his clothes and he paused momentarily as the hammock steadied again. “Here, hold this.” He passed the bottle back to Draco, who took another mouthful as Harry removed his shorts and underwear, leaving Draco wearing nothing but a pair of red socks. Harry found it more difficult to take off his own shorts, but he eventually succeeded and he knelt for a long time between Draco’s spread thighs as he watched Draco watch him while running his hand up and down the neck of the bottle.
“Are you going to shag me?” Harry finally asked as he took the bottle back.
“I told you I’m too squiffy to move that much.” Draco let his fingers walk down his own body, pausing at the stickiness of patches of drying Champagne before continuing down to feather lightly at his hard cock. “Are you too squiffy as well?”
Harry peered at the bottle, trying to work out how much liquid there was still inside. He wavered slightly back and forth as he tried to decide whether there was enough for him to have a final drink before doing what he’d planned. With a shrug he took a mouthful before reaching for Draco’s erection. Then holding the bottle to the tip he let the Champagne run down, soaking into the hair at the base, dribbling around Draco’s balls and running towards his lover’s puckered entrance.
“I’m not too squiffy for this.”
Dropping the now empty bottle over the side, Harry straddled Draco’s hips again and with a cocky grin he lowered his own hole onto Draco’s hard length.
“I don’t think Champagne makes a good lubricant,” Draco sniggered.
Harry smirked back. “I’m a Gryffindor ... I’m always prepared.”
With that he began to slowly press down, moaning softly as Draco’s cock pushed into him, stretching his already prepared passage. As it filled him, Harry pulled up and pushed down several times, aware of Draco’s fingers pushing into his thighs. Those fingernails would leave marks he decided as finally he sat on Draco’s lap, the delicious length balls deep inside him. “Are you still squiffy now?”
Grey eyes glinted in the light of the fireflies and long fingers pressed against the insides of Harry’s thighs, pushing them further apart. The moment allowed Harry to press down deeper and he rocked a little, stopping only when the hammock’s sway threatened to pitch them both over the side.
His hands now gripping at Harry’s hips, Draco finally answered. “No. Suddenly I’m stone cold sober.” With that Draco pushed Harry up a little and began thrusting up into him again and again.
They set up a familiar rhythm, fuelled by little moans and groans of pleasure and each time Harry bore down, he felt Draco fingers, which were now between them, press against his balls and tease at the area behind them. The hammock swayed with the movement, helping rather than hindering as the two men moved towards completion.
Harry came first with a cry into the night as he pushed down hard, Draco’s cock filling him as he contracted tightly about him. Draco followed quickly afterwards and he thrust up and up, deeper and deeper as he filled Harry with his seed. Harry dropped forward, his own come mingling with drying Champagne as they rolled over and the hammock finally tipped.
They landed with a grunt on the grass below the hammock with Harry on his back and Draco still inside him. For a moment neither man moved, but still caught up in the afterglow of their shared orgasms, but finally their groans turned to the sound of laugher.
“Are you okay?” Draco finally asked. Hands on the ground either side of Harry; he pushed up a little so he could look down at the other man.
“I’m fine, except for the rock digging into my back.” He waited as Draco pulled out of him before shifting a little. “That’s better.” They lay curled together on the grass, the kisses now slow and no longer needy, and it was Draco who finally broke the silence.
‘When’s the next England match?”
“Thursday -- at teatime.”
“And Trinidad?”
Harry chuckled. “Thursday -- at teatime.”
“Ah. They’re playing against each other?”
“That’s right. Are you still going to support them?”
Draco gave a smirk. “I think I will, Harry. I think I will.”
-----------
The song Neville was singing is Three Lions by Baddiel, Skinner and the Lightning Seeds. It was originally written for the Euro 96 (the European Cup) in 1996, which was held in England -- hence the lyric “Thirty years of hurt never stopped me dreaming”, which refers to the fact it had been thirty years since England won the World Cup in 1966 and we’d never won a major tournament since then. The song has been re-released for just about every major tournament since 1996 and is as popular with football fans now as when it was first released, and is thought of as the unofficial England song.
If you’d like to hear it, you can download it here.
The match comments in italics are taken from the BBC website.
I hope it fits in with dihall’s drabble request -- if you squint at it a little and then look at it sideways. Nor, at nearly 5000 words, is it a drabble. I should also point out that football is known as soccer in many countries, including America.
As for a rating, it falls into the NC-17 category.
Thanks to lagreyeyes for a certain suggestion which I’ve used here.
And finally, this is unbeta-ed and a little rushed to get it out in time. Please ignore any mistakes
The World Cup - England v Paraguay
Location: A house somewhere in the South of England. I can’t tell you where exactly because it is unplottable thanks to the anti-location spells on it.
The date: Saturday 10th June 2006.
Early morning ... about 5am
Picking up his cup of coffee, Draco Malfoy sauntered leisurely across the lounge to the huge glass doors that took up most of one wall to give a magnificent view of the garden surrounding the house he shared with Harry. Pushing back the light voile curtains covering the glass, he opened the door and stepped out into the patio. He loved this time of day, when the world was quiet and still, and the only sound was that of the dawn chorus.
The sun was just above the low hills, already climbing into a cloudless sky and Draco sipped at his cup with a “Mmmmm” of approval at the taste. He loved his first coffee of the day and being able to enjoy it like this, in the peace and quiet of the dawn was just exquisite.
Of course, the garden wouldn’t be a place of tranquillity in another six hours. By then Harry’s football-loving friends would have descended, first for lunch, then for the football match itself, which would be followed by something called a ‘barbecue’, which seemed to be a Muggle experience involving cooking outside. Lunch would be pleasant (except for the constant talk about the F-word), but he wasn’t sure barbecues were a good idea. Why not use the perfectly acceptable kitchen to cook in rather than the grill thing Harry had brought home a couple of days ago? When Draco had asked why anyone` would want to cook outside, Harry’s reply had been that according to the weather forecast, it would be “perfect for a barbecue”.
He crossed to a garden bench and sat down, resting his cup on the arm. Turning his face towards the sun, he closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth. It always amused him that people thought he hated the sun because his pale colouring would mean he burned easily. The truth was he burned no easier than anyone else and that he was perfectly capable of getting a nice tan. Maybe not as good as Harry’s tan, but then his lover’s colouring was much more suited to going a gorgeous bronze which he wanted to lick off. Draco enjoyed lounging in the garden on a warm sunny day, especially if Harry was lounging with him. And they had the perfect private garden to lounge naked whenever they wanted.
But there would be no naked lounging today, not with the worry their guests might arrive early. He mentally ticked off the list of who would be sharing his little idyll today. There would be Neville Longbottom and his new, already pregnant, wife Luna. Then Dean Thomas and his Muggle finance whose name Draco had temporarily forgotten; he would have to check with Harry. Seamus Finnigan didn’t look like he would ever settle down and if the house hadn’t been unplottable with personal wards, he might very well have brought his latest girl- or boyfriend depending on his current pleasures. Draco had refused to let a total stranger visit despite Harry’s ardent pleading, he hadn’t warded the house this strongly to just let anyone in.
Last but not least would be Hermione and her husband Severus Snape. At least in Severus, Draco had someone to conspire with while everyone else shouted and screamed at Harry’s Huge Television -- someone else who didn’t like football. They would bring their two-year-old son George with them and that thought made Draco smile. He was Georgie’s godfather and he enjoyed looking after the boy whenever they visited.
“Morning, love, what are you doing out here?”
A pair of arms slithered around Draco’s neck and a hand pushed into the neckline of the baggy tee shirt he’d pulled on before coming outside. He leaned back and rested his head against Harry’s abdomen. “Watching the sunrise.” He liked sunrises; there was something hopeful about them, that another day was beginning. Sunsets might be beautiful and romantic, but they seemed like endings to Draco when one was left wondering if the dawn would ever come again.
“Was it a good one?” The hand down his shirt flicked lazily over Draco’s left nipple as Harry nuzzled into sun-warmed blond hair.
“It was perfect.” He leaned backwards and Harry’s nuzzling reached his forehead, then his nose and cheeks, and finally his lips.”
“You taste of coffee.”
“And you taste of toothpaste.”
Behind him Harry chuckled and, clearly satisfied with the way the left nipple had hardened under his fingers, attacked Draco’s right nipple. Draco reached over his head and curled his fingers around Harry’s hip where he touched bare flesh. A sly grin slowly grew on his face.
“Harry, are you naked.”
The chuckle came again and Harry nibbled briefly at Draco’s ear. “I might be.”
“Then come here, you brazen little hussy.” Quickly Draco pulled Harry around the bench. The other man was, indeed, quite naked and already hard. The sight made his own penis twitch in expectation and when Harry climbed onto the bench, legs kneeling either side of his own, he shifted forward a little until, allowing Harry to push against him. “Do we have time? What with all the things you said you have to get ready for later.”
Harry’s hard length ground against him and Draco gave a throaty groan as he responded by licking at his lover’s chest.
“Well, Draco, my love, unless you’ve suddenly learned how to sustain an orgasm for several hours, I think we’ll have time for a quick shag in the garden and then another in the shower before you help me prepare the salads for lunch.”
---
Early afternoon ... just after noon
“Afternoon, Drake. Looking forward to the match then?” Seamus Finnigan knew no shame and was probably the only person who would dare to push Draco just that little bit further than anyone else. He slapped Draco on the shoulder and would probably have pulled him into a friendly hug if the other man hadn’t held back.
Draco gave a smile that was no more than a twitch of his mouth and if Finnigan noticed the slight, he just ignored it as he left what looked like a crate of beer bottles on the table. At least the beer was Stella Artois, rather than the awful stuff Finnigan had contributed last time they’d had a party.
“Harry said he got you an England kit. Are we going to see it?”
The new voice was female and Draco turned just as the newcomer placed what looked to be a very rich Pavlova on the kitchen table. It oozed fresh cream and raspberries, and Draco all but licked his lips at the sight. Except the person carrying it was Ginny Weasley and seeing her ignited a little jealous flame deep in his belly. Ginny had lusted after Harry ever since their school days and he had no reason to believe that she still wasn’t carrying a torch for him ten years later.
“Hope you didn’t mind me bringing a date, Draco. Harry said it would be okay and Ginny here likes nothing better than watching men in shorts.” Finnigan prodded her in the side with his elbow and smirked lasciviously, and Draco couldn’t help but remember that the other man swung both ways and had made passes at Harry on more than one occasion. He wondered for a moment what he could do to persuade Harry to change out of his shorts into something that covered his legs completely ... full-length robes for example.
His gaze flicked between the two. “Harry didn’t say you were seeing each others.”
“Well, you know what our Harry is like,” Finnigan put an arm around Ginny’s waist and squeezed. “Never one to spill the beans.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “And besides, we’re just good friends, isn’t that true, Ginny dear?”
Ginny gave a little smile. “I’m only here for the football, Draco. Men in shorts.” The smile grew. “And Harry has such nice legs.”
---
Afternoon ... 2pm
Paraguay kick off and England’s World Cup campaign is under way.
3 minutes into the match: GOAL England 1-0 Paraguay
England takes the lead, David Beckham swinging in a free-kick and Paraguay defender Carlos Gamarra glancing the ball past his goalkeeper Justo Villar.
2.49pm
HALF-TIME: England lead 1-0 after the first half of their World Cup opener against Paraguay.
---
Harry found Hermione in the master bedroom; he’d been looking for Draco and was surprised to see her there. Not that he minded her being there, he just wondered what she was doing. She was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window which overlooked the same view as the lounge below and it took him a moment to realise that there was a camera in her hand.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder at his approach and gave an indulgent smile. “I thought you would be celebrating with the lads.”
He smiled back and stopped beside her. “One goal up is a good start.” The sound of happy laughter drifted up the stairs from the lounge below and he could just make out Neville’s voice singing.
”Three lions on your shirt, Jules Remet still gleaming, thirty years of hurt never stopped me dreaming....”
They looked at each other and grimaced. “Ouch, that is really painful.” Harry laughed. “I didn’t think Neville had had that much to drink.”
Hermione shook her head. “It’s not the drink, Harry, it’s Dean’s jello shooter things.”
He looked a little confused. “Those little jelly things?”
She nodded. “His brother’s studying in America and apparently he came home with the recipe. It’s made with vodka.”
“Vodka? I nearly gave one to Georgie.”
“Thank goodness you didn’t, though Sev would probably say that’s one way of getting his son to sleep. Apparently the red ones are okay. It’s the orange ones that have the vodka in them.”
“Ah, okay. I’ll remember that. Where is George? I haven’t seen him since fifteen minutes into the match.”
Hermione pointed out of the window. “He’s with Draco -- on the hammock.”
Harry looked down into the garden. In the shade of one of the huge oak trees was Draco’s latest purchase, a very large hammock and on it was Draco who appeared to be reading to George who was cuddled up beside his godfather. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “Is that what you were taking pictures of?”
She nodded. “I’ll send you a copy. They just look so sweet and I knew if I went out there the moment would be spoiled. You know what Draco’s like with having his photo taken. He’d really good with George.”
“Mmm.” Harry nodded and with a sigh he subconsciously rested a finger on the glass as if touching the man. “He’d make a great dad.”
“So would you.”
“But it’s not going to happen, is it?” He watched as Hermione looked at him, a frown of non-comprehension on her face. “I mean, we’re never going to be parents are we? The Potter and Malfoy family names both end here with us.” Below, in the garden, Draco turned a page of the book and George pointed animatedly at the picture.
“Does that worry you? I know you’ve talked about children before.”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve thought about adoption, but I’m not sure Draco would do that.”
“Why?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be his son or daughter ... not his natural one and he once mentioned that for a Malfoy to inherit they had to be blood relatives.” He pursed his lips, forming a thin line, as he remembered the one conversation he’d had with Draco on the subject. His lover had explained slowly and carefully as if he were talking to an idiot exactly what it meant to be the Malfoy heir in terms of the legal niceties. It remained Harry of all the pure-blood rhetoric he’d hated since first finding out that he was a wizard. He felt Hermione’s arm move around his waist and his own slid around her shoulders. “Back in our last year at school, his parents arranged a marriage for him.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “A pretty girl called Gwladus.”
“The Llewelyn Gwladus? Who married Marcell Schneider last month?”
“That’s the one. She was supposed to marry Draco and even though he never talks about her I sometimes wonder if....”
“But he loves you.” Hermione’s arm tightened about him.
“Oh, I know he does, I’ve never doubted that. I just sometimes wonder about not being able to give him what he most wants. Maybe not yet, but next year or five years from now, what if he wants a child enough to find himself a wife?”
Hermione started to answer but stopped as first one of the pet cats and then her husband came into the bedroom. “Severus.”
The newcomer looked at them and raised an eyebrow at their posture. “I came to tell you that the second half has started, but I can see you are both occupied.”
“We are watching your son and his godfather, and getting all emotional about it.” She pointed out the window and waited as Severus strode over and looked. He still scowled a lot and hadn’t lost any of his caustic wit, but his expression softened as he watched his son.
“I hope that book is suitable for someone George’s age.”
---
Afternoon ... 3.52pm
FULL-TIME: England defeat Paraguay 1-0 in their World Cup opener.
---
“Well,” Seamus reached for his half-finished bottle of beer and took a mouthful. “We were lucky there. Good first half and really bad second half.”
Dean nodded as he reached for the remote control to turn down the sound of the post-match debate. “But we won ... that’s three points, can’t fault that.”
“Perhaps we should watch the match between Sweden and Trinidad & Tobago.” Severus was already looking through Harry’s World Cup fixtures list to check for the time. “After all, they are the other two teams England have to play.”
“Excuse me!”
Everyone in the spacious lounge turned towards the kitchen door where Draco leaned against the jamb, a silly grin on his face. In one hand was a spoon and in the other a small empty shot glass that had once contained something orange and jelly-like. He held up the glass. “Are there anymore of these things?”
---
Evening ... about 6.45pm
Harry’s fingers played absently in Draco’s hair as he watched the closing moments of the Trinidad & Tobago v Sweden match. They hadn’t planned on watching a second match, but what Severus had said almost three hours ago made sense. England would be playing both teams in the first round, so it really was a case of ‘Know Thine Enemy’. It had come as a surprise to everyone to find that the Potions Master had fallen under the spell of the Beautiful Game and Draco had been particularly put out to find that his one-time companion, his old Head of House, had turned against and joined the Gryffindor horde.
Draco had finally come into the lounge not long after the second half and Harry was pleased to see that Draco had changed into his red England shirt, white shorts and red sock. But all the chairs were taken and for a moment Harry had thought the other man was going to leave and he was just about to get up when Draco had dropped to the floor and leaned back against Harry’s leg. They had fallen into a companionable silence with Draco gently stroking at Harry’s shin as he watched the match while Harry played with Draco’s hair just the way he knew his lover enjoyed.
Occasionally Draco would make a comment about the match and it made Harry smile to hear him come up with wild responses to other people’s comments. His smile grew with pleasure as he realised that he was with his closest friends on a fine sunny evening doing something completely mundane. They weren’t chasing Death Eaters or being hunted down by people trying to kill them.
This, Harry decided, was just normality and they were doing what thousands of other people were doing. He gave a contented sigh and gently tugged at Draco’s hair until the other man looked up. Draco gave a smile that almost always reduced Harry to a quivering limp Squib and he shifted forward so that he could kiss those smiling lips. “Okay?” he whispered against them.
“I’m fine,” came the quiet answer as Draco turned a little to kiss Harry’s bare knee.
He nibbled on Draco’s ear and was surprised when Draco pushed him gently away with a hiss of “I’m watching!”
The ardent comment made Harry smile and he ruffled Draco’s hair as he wondered just how many of Dean’s jelly things Draco had eaten.
As the final whistle blew to end the game at a nil-nil draw, Draco scrambled to his feet and pointed at the television. “Now that was a match. They didn’t win, but look at the way they played? They held off the other team with one less player. That’s the team I want to support.”
Everyone stared open-mouthed as Draco scrabbled for his wand. He flourished it in a rather flamboyant manner, which reminded Harry of Gilderoy Lockhart, and as Draco cast the spell what had once been an England team shirt changed into the colours of Trinidad and Tobago.
--
Evening ... a little after 10.30pm
Harry finally found Draco in the garden lounging in the hammock. He stumbled a little as he crossed the grass and wondered whether it was tiredness or maybe just a little too much to drink. In his hand was an almost full bottle of Champagne but it hadn’t occurred to him to bring any glasses with him.
Stopping at the side of the hammock he leaned a hand on the side, only to have the side sank down. “Oh.” He let go and the hammock rocked from side to side, the motion enough to rouse Draco from wherever his thoughts had taken him. Even in the darkness he could just make out Draco’s smile.
“Has everyone gone?”
“Yep.” Handing the bottle to Draco, Harry scrambled carefully onto the hammock, which swayed with every movement he made. Finally he managed to kneel either side of Draco’s hips and he sat down, wriggling slightly against the man beneath him. “Seamus and Ginny have just left.”
“And didn’t they make the perfect couple,” Draco mocked as he drank from the bottle only to end up coughing as the Champagne bubbles caught in his throat. “They deserve each other.”
“Don’t be so mean.” Harry leaned forward to kiss and lick at Draco’s lips. They tasted sweet and he wondered if it was the Champagne. The hard bottle clinked against his shoulder as Draco’s arms wound around him and he felt the wine inside run from the bottle onto his shirt and down his neck. “Watch it!” He pulled away a little and reached for the bottle. “You’re getting it all over me.”
“What?”
“The Champagne ... you’ve spilled it all down my neck. Now I’m all sticky.”
“Here.” Draco sat up, the hammock rocking as he did so, and Harry settled on his lap. He pulled at Harry’s white England shirt and after a moment’s hesitation, Harry quickly took it off and threw it over the side of the hammock. “Now, let me clean you all up.” Carefully and deliberately Draco began to lick at Harry’s neck, long strokes which made Harry purr with delight and when Draco finally pulled away, he was very tempted to pour some more over himself just so Draco would continue.
Harry took a swig from the bottle and swallowed. Both he and Draco had already drunk quite a lot, and the Champagne made his mind a little hazy. What would it be like, he wondered to kiss Draco while he had the Champagne in his mouth? Could he pass the bubbles onto Draco and feel them explode around his lover’s mouth?
He decided to leave that until he didn’t feel so hazy and instead twisted a hand into Draco’s shirt. The spell Draco had cast on it earlier had faded and it was now the red England shirt Harry had given to him. “Take this off.”
Draco smirked and with Harry still sitting astride his hips he managed to pulled it off. The hammock swayed as he tossed the shirt over the side to join the one Harry had thrown earlier. He lay back down and Harry’s fingers ghosted across his abdomen.
“I wish I could see you better.” Harry murmured thoughtfully as he explored the body beneath him with long strokes of his fingers. The movement ceased as he muttered a quiet incantation. Suddenly the air around them was full of fireflies, their gentle glow just enough to see each other by. “There, that’s better. Now, where was I?”
“I think you were going to shag me.” The other man’s chuckle was a pleasant timbre.
“Out here? In the hammock?” Harry tipped the bottle and dribbled a line of Champagne over Draco’s chest and down his torso. The wine ran into his armpits, filled the little depression of Draco’s navel and ran down either side of his torso. He moved a little further down the supine body before leaning forward to lick and suck at the Champagne. “My plan was for you to shag me.”
Draco moaned as Harry pushed up his arm, licking at the hair where some of the Champagne had run. “I’m not sure I’m up to much shagging at the moment -- after what I drank earlier.”
Harry nuzzled at Draco’s neck before moving to the pulse point in the hollow at the base of his throat. He pulled back and dribbled a little more Champagne on the spot before dipping in his tongue. “How many of those jelly things did you have?”
“Before or after I found out they had alcohol in them?”
“Both.” He took another swig from the bottle and held it out to Draco’s lip.
Draco took a mouthful and swallowed before pulling Harry down into a kiss. The movement brought Harry from his knees and he lay full-length against the body beneath him, hips aligned and grinding against each other. The friction built as the kiss deepened and Harry allowed Draco’s tongue into his mouth, enjoying the way his lover felt and tasted.
Gasping for air, Harry reluctantly pulled away. “You see, I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re ineb.... Inebery.... Drunk.”
Draco huffed in annoyance. “I am not drunk. I’m just a little squiffy.”
“Squiffy?” Harry crawled back down Draco’s body and tipped some more Champagne into the depression of his navel.
“Squiffy. My mother never became drunk -- she was always just a little squiffy. Which means just a little drunk.”
Harry sniggered and poked the tip his tongue into the Champagne-filled navel, lapping at it like a cat. “As opposed to being a lot drunk I suppose.” Draco squirmed beneath him, hips pushing up from the fabric of the hammock as he attempted to get Harry’s tongue to probe deeper.
The hammock rocked dangerously as Harry scrambled between Draco’s legs. It rocked some more as he attempted to divest the other man of the remainder of his clothes and he paused momentarily as the hammock steadied again. “Here, hold this.” He passed the bottle back to Draco, who took another mouthful as Harry removed his shorts and underwear, leaving Draco wearing nothing but a pair of red socks. Harry found it more difficult to take off his own shorts, but he eventually succeeded and he knelt for a long time between Draco’s spread thighs as he watched Draco watch him while running his hand up and down the neck of the bottle.
“Are you going to shag me?” Harry finally asked as he took the bottle back.
“I told you I’m too squiffy to move that much.” Draco let his fingers walk down his own body, pausing at the stickiness of patches of drying Champagne before continuing down to feather lightly at his hard cock. “Are you too squiffy as well?”
Harry peered at the bottle, trying to work out how much liquid there was still inside. He wavered slightly back and forth as he tried to decide whether there was enough for him to have a final drink before doing what he’d planned. With a shrug he took a mouthful before reaching for Draco’s erection. Then holding the bottle to the tip he let the Champagne run down, soaking into the hair at the base, dribbling around Draco’s balls and running towards his lover’s puckered entrance.
“I’m not too squiffy for this.”
Dropping the now empty bottle over the side, Harry straddled Draco’s hips again and with a cocky grin he lowered his own hole onto Draco’s hard length.
“I don’t think Champagne makes a good lubricant,” Draco sniggered.
Harry smirked back. “I’m a Gryffindor ... I’m always prepared.”
With that he began to slowly press down, moaning softly as Draco’s cock pushed into him, stretching his already prepared passage. As it filled him, Harry pulled up and pushed down several times, aware of Draco’s fingers pushing into his thighs. Those fingernails would leave marks he decided as finally he sat on Draco’s lap, the delicious length balls deep inside him. “Are you still squiffy now?”
Grey eyes glinted in the light of the fireflies and long fingers pressed against the insides of Harry’s thighs, pushing them further apart. The moment allowed Harry to press down deeper and he rocked a little, stopping only when the hammock’s sway threatened to pitch them both over the side.
His hands now gripping at Harry’s hips, Draco finally answered. “No. Suddenly I’m stone cold sober.” With that Draco pushed Harry up a little and began thrusting up into him again and again.
They set up a familiar rhythm, fuelled by little moans and groans of pleasure and each time Harry bore down, he felt Draco fingers, which were now between them, press against his balls and tease at the area behind them. The hammock swayed with the movement, helping rather than hindering as the two men moved towards completion.
Harry came first with a cry into the night as he pushed down hard, Draco’s cock filling him as he contracted tightly about him. Draco followed quickly afterwards and he thrust up and up, deeper and deeper as he filled Harry with his seed. Harry dropped forward, his own come mingling with drying Champagne as they rolled over and the hammock finally tipped.
They landed with a grunt on the grass below the hammock with Harry on his back and Draco still inside him. For a moment neither man moved, but still caught up in the afterglow of their shared orgasms, but finally their groans turned to the sound of laugher.
“Are you okay?” Draco finally asked. Hands on the ground either side of Harry; he pushed up a little so he could look down at the other man.
“I’m fine, except for the rock digging into my back.” He waited as Draco pulled out of him before shifting a little. “That’s better.” They lay curled together on the grass, the kisses now slow and no longer needy, and it was Draco who finally broke the silence.
‘When’s the next England match?”
“Thursday -- at teatime.”
“And Trinidad?”
Harry chuckled. “Thursday -- at teatime.”
“Ah. They’re playing against each other?”
“That’s right. Are you still going to support them?”
Draco gave a smirk. “I think I will, Harry. I think I will.”
-----------
The song Neville was singing is Three Lions by Baddiel, Skinner and the Lightning Seeds. It was originally written for the Euro 96 (the European Cup) in 1996, which was held in England -- hence the lyric “Thirty years of hurt never stopped me dreaming”, which refers to the fact it had been thirty years since England won the World Cup in 1966 and we’d never won a major tournament since then. The song has been re-released for just about every major tournament since 1996 and is as popular with football fans now as when it was first released, and is thought of as the unofficial England song.
If you’d like to hear it, you can download it here.
The match comments in italics are taken from the BBC website.