Sand Castles & Fingerpaints
I wrote this story for The Hex Files. If you're curious, I post there under 'Kudra'. There's a story there in progress that I won't be posting here until I've finished.
Remus’ eyes took on a calculating expression. Turning to Harry and Draco, he said, “I will not be the only one making a spectacle of myself.”
“Have we not already done enough?” Snape inquired archly.
Harry directed their attention to the clan of angry Weasleys. “I’ve certainly done enough.”
“I was the bride,” Draco added, looking traumatized.
Remus and Severus were one in their exclamation of, “What?”
Draco recounted the events leading up to his and Harry’s grand entrance to the ballroom.
The werewolf took another shot and his grin was feral, fang teeth gleaming. “Well, if you are the bride and the groom, why have I not yet seen you dance?”
Snape sneered. “Though it pains me to admit it, I must agree with Lupin. I would see you dance.”
“Are the pair of you mad?” Draco demanded.
Harry shook his head sadly. “We never should’ve given them Firewhisky,” he mused, watching their former professors rather amiably debate who would lead.
“Pardon me,” Draco interjected, “but that’s rather obvious! I would lead.”
“Lead, my arse!” Harry exclaimed. “You couldn’t lead using Point Me and a guide!”
Draco sneered. “Oh please, Harry, this isn’t about gunning down megalomaniacs! This is about dancing. Which I know for a fact that you’re pants at.”
They both rose and stood eye to eye in challenge. “I’m the groom, Draco. The groom leads the bride.”
“Not this bride!” the ex-Slytherin snarled.
Remus and Severus exchanged bemused and victorious looks. “Well, let’s see it then,” the werewolf prompted.
Two heads turned in unison to face him, platinum and raven strands touching. “What?”
“Off with you,” Snape ordered, gesturing to the dance floor.
“Fine!” Harry snapped. “You want a spectacle? We’ll give you a fucking spectacle!” Grabbing Draco’s hand, he dragged him along behind him.
“Um, Harry?” Draco asked as they came to a stop several yards from their table. A low murmur passed through the ballroom, and all eyes watched to see what would happen next. “We didn’t exactly decide who was going to lead.”
Harry considered. “Since you had to be the bride, and you actually know how to dance, you lead.” He stood stiffly and uncomfortably in front of Draco, suddenly feeling the full significance of what they were doing. “I really can’t dance,” he whispered.
Draco nodded briskly. “Not to worry, Harry.” He held out his right hand and gestured for Harry to take it. Their palms met and their fingers curled naturally together. Draco grabbed Harry’s left hand and placed it on his shoulder before placing his own on Harry’s hip. Tugging the raven-haired wizard gently towards him, he aligned their bodies. “Ready?”
Harry gulped, feeling the slow burn where their palms met spreading out to meet the place where Draco’s hand rested on his hip. He watched the Draco's stormy eyes grow darker and he shivered. “I suppose,” he murmured.
Sensing his hesitation, Draco said, “Just follow my lead, it’ll be easy.” Harry’s green eyes burned into his own with a sense of trust that shook Draco to the core. Squeezing Harry’s hand lightly, he began to twirl them through the opening steps. Harry stumbled a bit, struggling.
“Sorry,” he said contritely.
“Harry, relax,” Draco chided. “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves remember? Not winning a dance competition.”
Harry smiled. “Right, then. Lead on.” He let his muscles slowly unclench.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” Draco instructed, “and don’t over-think it.” He started to move again, using his hands to give Harry cues.
Harry watched Draco’s eyes and ignored the rest of the world. It was surprisingly easy. His body followed Draco’s instinctively, and soon they were dancing. It didn’t matter that hundreds of wizards and witches were watching, taking photos, judging. What mattered was Draco's slim form against his, and all the places where their bodies came in contact. He was suddenly struck by the realization that Draco would soon notice just how much Harry was enjoying this.
“Incidentally, I think I’m gay,” he whispered huskily.
Draco grinned. “That’s fucking fascinating, Harry, really, but...” He pulled their pelvises flush and dragged his hand slowly over Harry’s hip.
Harry groaned and leaned his head against Draco’s shoulder before whispering in his ear, “Do you think we’re making enough of a spectacle for Remus and Sev?”
Draco shivered, burying his nose briefly in Harry’s hair. He smelled like the air during an electrical storm and something uniquely Harry. Turning his head, he saw two highly amused wizards sipping Firewhisky and watching the show. “Hard to tell, maybe we should keep dancing.”
“Right,” Harry stammered, feeling slightly dizzy as Draco kept twirling them in a complicated pattern across the floor. They were pressed together, chest to chest, hips to hips, and Draco’s hot breath whispered across his neck.
Feeling the telltale bulge in Harry’s jeans, Draco shifted so that their erections were touching through their clothes. Harry moaned and canted his hips forward instinctively, sending Draco’s head spinning. “Oh Merlin,” he gasped, pressing back in retaliation.
Harry’s left hand had migrated from Draco’s shoulder to the back of his neck, tangling in the soft hair there. “Draco,” he hissed out, and then swore in Parseltongue.
Draco melted, forgetting to dance, forgetting to lead, completely undone by the sibilant hissing. “Fuck,” he murmured, letting his lips trail over Harry’s neck, tongue slipping out to meet his clavicle.
“Sssssssssthaiiiiiii,” Harry whispered, emerald eyes locking with silvery-gray.
Mesmerized, Draco leaned in, wanting nothing more than to swallow the hissing coming from Harry’s lips and feel it inside him. “Harry,” he moaned wantonly, and then, losing all semblance of propriety and control, he ran his tongue over Harry’s busted bottom lip and bit it slightly.
Harry gasped in Parseltongue inside Draco’s mouth, and felt the shudder pulse through the other wizard’s body. He felt a heady rush of power over driving such a poised person as Draco to utter distraction. Then he felt Draco’s tongue in his mouth, nursing his abused lip and he melted right along with him. Pulling frantically at the hem of Draco’s robes, he hissed, “I need to see you. All of you.”
“Yes,” Draco gasped. “Yes, now. Fuck.” He dropped all pretence of dancing and ran his hands up under the back of Harry’s shirt, digging into the soft skin there.
Harry’s hands were in his hair, on his chest, running down his torso. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Yes. Where?” Draco ground his hips into Harry’s, relishing in the low moan it elicited.
Harry bit down on Draco’s neck. “Sssssssssss. Your place?” he offered, knowing that Draco wouldn’t be caught dead in Harry’s ramshackle house.
Draco paused, pulling back slightly, and meeting Harry’s eyes. “No,” he said firmly. “Take me to your home.”
Harry fell a little bit in love. Then, he smiled brilliantly and Draco fell with him. He wrapped his hands tightly around Draco’s torso and with a pop they disappeared from the dance floor.
Remus’ eyes took on a calculating expression. Turning to Harry and Draco, he said, “I will not be the only one making a spectacle of myself.”
“Have we not already done enough?” Snape inquired archly.
Harry directed their attention to the clan of angry Weasleys. “I’ve certainly done enough.”
“I was the bride,” Draco added, looking traumatized.
Remus and Severus were one in their exclamation of, “What?”
Draco recounted the events leading up to his and Harry’s grand entrance to the ballroom.
The werewolf took another shot and his grin was feral, fang teeth gleaming. “Well, if you are the bride and the groom, why have I not yet seen you dance?”
Snape sneered. “Though it pains me to admit it, I must agree with Lupin. I would see you dance.”
“Are the pair of you mad?” Draco demanded.
Harry shook his head sadly. “We never should’ve given them Firewhisky,” he mused, watching their former professors rather amiably debate who would lead.
“Pardon me,” Draco interjected, “but that’s rather obvious! I would lead.”
“Lead, my arse!” Harry exclaimed. “You couldn’t lead using Point Me and a guide!”
Draco sneered. “Oh please, Harry, this isn’t about gunning down megalomaniacs! This is about dancing. Which I know for a fact that you’re pants at.”
They both rose and stood eye to eye in challenge. “I’m the groom, Draco. The groom leads the bride.”
“Not this bride!” the ex-Slytherin snarled.
Remus and Severus exchanged bemused and victorious looks. “Well, let’s see it then,” the werewolf prompted.
Two heads turned in unison to face him, platinum and raven strands touching. “What?”
“Off with you,” Snape ordered, gesturing to the dance floor.
“Fine!” Harry snapped. “You want a spectacle? We’ll give you a fucking spectacle!” Grabbing Draco’s hand, he dragged him along behind him.
“Um, Harry?” Draco asked as they came to a stop several yards from their table. A low murmur passed through the ballroom, and all eyes watched to see what would happen next. “We didn’t exactly decide who was going to lead.”
Harry considered. “Since you had to be the bride, and you actually know how to dance, you lead.” He stood stiffly and uncomfortably in front of Draco, suddenly feeling the full significance of what they were doing. “I really can’t dance,” he whispered.
Draco nodded briskly. “Not to worry, Harry.” He held out his right hand and gestured for Harry to take it. Their palms met and their fingers curled naturally together. Draco grabbed Harry’s left hand and placed it on his shoulder before placing his own on Harry’s hip. Tugging the raven-haired wizard gently towards him, he aligned their bodies. “Ready?”
Harry gulped, feeling the slow burn where their palms met spreading out to meet the place where Draco’s hand rested on his hip. He watched the Draco's stormy eyes grow darker and he shivered. “I suppose,” he murmured.
Sensing his hesitation, Draco said, “Just follow my lead, it’ll be easy.” Harry’s green eyes burned into his own with a sense of trust that shook Draco to the core. Squeezing Harry’s hand lightly, he began to twirl them through the opening steps. Harry stumbled a bit, struggling.
“Sorry,” he said contritely.
“Harry, relax,” Draco chided. “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves remember? Not winning a dance competition.”
Harry smiled. “Right, then. Lead on.” He let his muscles slowly unclench.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” Draco instructed, “and don’t over-think it.” He started to move again, using his hands to give Harry cues.
Harry watched Draco’s eyes and ignored the rest of the world. It was surprisingly easy. His body followed Draco’s instinctively, and soon they were dancing. It didn’t matter that hundreds of wizards and witches were watching, taking photos, judging. What mattered was Draco's slim form against his, and all the places where their bodies came in contact. He was suddenly struck by the realization that Draco would soon notice just how much Harry was enjoying this.
“Incidentally, I think I’m gay,” he whispered huskily.
Draco grinned. “That’s fucking fascinating, Harry, really, but...” He pulled their pelvises flush and dragged his hand slowly over Harry’s hip.
Harry groaned and leaned his head against Draco’s shoulder before whispering in his ear, “Do you think we’re making enough of a spectacle for Remus and Sev?”
Draco shivered, burying his nose briefly in Harry’s hair. He smelled like the air during an electrical storm and something uniquely Harry. Turning his head, he saw two highly amused wizards sipping Firewhisky and watching the show. “Hard to tell, maybe we should keep dancing.”
“Right,” Harry stammered, feeling slightly dizzy as Draco kept twirling them in a complicated pattern across the floor. They were pressed together, chest to chest, hips to hips, and Draco’s hot breath whispered across his neck.
Feeling the telltale bulge in Harry’s jeans, Draco shifted so that their erections were touching through their clothes. Harry moaned and canted his hips forward instinctively, sending Draco’s head spinning. “Oh Merlin,” he gasped, pressing back in retaliation.
Harry’s left hand had migrated from Draco’s shoulder to the back of his neck, tangling in the soft hair there. “Draco,” he hissed out, and then swore in Parseltongue.
Draco melted, forgetting to dance, forgetting to lead, completely undone by the sibilant hissing. “Fuck,” he murmured, letting his lips trail over Harry’s neck, tongue slipping out to meet his clavicle.
“Sssssssssthaiiiiiii,” Harry whispered, emerald eyes locking with silvery-gray.
Mesmerized, Draco leaned in, wanting nothing more than to swallow the hissing coming from Harry’s lips and feel it inside him. “Harry,” he moaned wantonly, and then, losing all semblance of propriety and control, he ran his tongue over Harry’s busted bottom lip and bit it slightly.
Harry gasped in Parseltongue inside Draco’s mouth, and felt the shudder pulse through the other wizard’s body. He felt a heady rush of power over driving such a poised person as Draco to utter distraction. Then he felt Draco’s tongue in his mouth, nursing his abused lip and he melted right along with him. Pulling frantically at the hem of Draco’s robes, he hissed, “I need to see you. All of you.”
“Yes,” Draco gasped. “Yes, now. Fuck.” He dropped all pretence of dancing and ran his hands up under the back of Harry’s shirt, digging into the soft skin there.
Harry’s hands were in his hair, on his chest, running down his torso. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Yes. Where?” Draco ground his hips into Harry’s, relishing in the low moan it elicited.
Harry bit down on Draco’s neck. “Sssssssssss. Your place?” he offered, knowing that Draco wouldn’t be caught dead in Harry’s ramshackle house.
Draco paused, pulling back slightly, and meeting Harry’s eyes. “No,” he said firmly. “Take me to your home.”
Harry fell a little bit in love. Then, he smiled brilliantly and Draco fell with him. He wrapped his hands tightly around Draco’s torso and with a pop they disappeared from the dance floor.