(no subject)
For my fabulous new friend, no_loafing.
Sequel to Distraction and Denial.
Harry/Draco, 1340 words, rated-R
Lesson Plan
Potter was late. Not that Draco had expected the git to be on time. Draco dropped his heavy satchel on the floor of the tower and stared through one of the open windows. The grounds were still void of one idiotic Gryffindor who seemed unable to keep a stupid appointment.
And it was an appointment, a simple meeting that Draco had been charitable enough to arrange. Draco had noted Potter struggling to keep up with the rest of his classmates during Care of Magical Creatures. Potter had even peered over at him that very day in a blatant attempt to copy his notes. It had been a pathetic cry for help, and Draco had decided to be humane. He would save Potter from humiliation and utter failure. He did, after all, owe Potter a favor.
But the pillock was late, and now he was standing Draco up. Well, technically, Potter wasn't late, but in five minutes Potter would be on time, and then he would be late. Maybe Potter was unable to tell time. In that case, Draco could only feel sorry for him.
Draco crossed over to a large telescope and pointed it upward. The Astronomy Tower was an absurd location for a meeting. Potter had been mental to suggest such a ridiculous spot. It was dark and cramped, and certainly not a favorable setting for acquiring knowledge. They would probably have to cuddle together and Draco preferred to stand when he taught, thereby establishing the necessary framework for a proper teacher/student relationship.
He stared up at the North Star and tried to compose his thoughts. If Potter chose to exhibit any sign of intelligence and show up for his first lecture, 'Proper Care of Flobberworms', Draco would have to formulate a simple lesson plan for his floundering student. He couldn't just begin where their crazy professor had left off. Potter was way behind. Draco would need to start over from page one. It was going to be a long night, but Draco was up for the challenge. Potter really should count himself lucky to have acquired the attention of someone as worldly and wise as Draco. Well, maybe attention wasn’t the correct word. Pity, he reasoned, was a far more appropriate term.
Potter really was a moron. Why else would he speak up in class, or wear his cousin's trousers, or worse, a wretched Weasley jumper? He also didn't have a stitch of fashion sense. Clearly, Draco would have to give him a separate lesson in the art of haute couture. It was grotesque to witness the clod wearing the same trousers two times in one week. The Weasel was a bad influence, and it was time that Draco set things straight.
He leaned against the stone sill, stared out into the empty lawn and cursed. He was standing in a tower, freezing to death, and waiting for... Potter. It was preposterous, burlesque and Draco was having no part in it. He wasn't going to die on Potter's watch - not that Potter owned a watch. Draco grabbed his satchel and spun around, immediately stilling at the sight in the entranceway. Potter stood in full view, his white button-up glowing in the moonlight. He wore fitted jeans, leather shoes and a small smile. Draco's bag slipped from his fingers.
"Where are you going?" Potter stepped into the tower.
There was something different about Potter besides his matching clothes and shoes and the way his eyes sparkled as he took another step toward Draco. It wafted through the room, heavy, pressing down on Draco and making his brain fuzzy. Maybe Potter had mastered wandless magic. That must have been the case, because the imbecile was grinning like an idiot, and suddenly Draco's body was buzzing, trembling.
"I was just... turning around."
Potter was doing it on purpose. He deserved to be hexed, and Draco made a mental note to research a hideously painful curse. He would hurl it at Potter in the Great Hall, or during Potions. Surely, Snape would understand, even commend him, when Draco explained the entire scenario, leaving out... most of the details.
Another step closer and Draco leaned back against the wall. Potter was too close, too different, too... gods.
Potter waved a hand. "Hi there."
Draco stared, wide-eyed, as Potter leaned against the wall beside him, rubbed his palms on his jeans, and stared straight ahead. Draco looked at the buttons on Potter's collar, his open collar, and the angular plane of Potter's neck. "You're wearing..." He swallowed hard.
Potter turned to face Draco. "What?"
Draco refused to play Potter's silly game. It was time for action. He reached out and feathered his thumb across the base of Potter's smooth neck. When Potter pulled in a breath, Draco ran his thumb up to Potter's jaw. "Are you wearing aftershave?" Research was important when one makes a hypothesis. Sometimes hands-on analysis was the only way to solve a scientific query.
Potter leaned into Draco's touch. "A little."
Draco pulled his hand away. "I thought so." Potter was far too close now. He was blurring lines and challenging authority and making it very difficult for Draco to breathe.
"Touch me again."
Draco looked at Potter, studying the way he chewed on his lower lip, his eyelids heavy. Then he stopped thinking and reached up, running his thumb over the familiar mouth, feeling the soft lips part beneath his touch.
Potter's hands were rough and warm when they slipped underneath Draco's shirt. They were also shockingly daring as they caressed Draco’s bare stomach and chest, his fingers tracing each rib slowly. "Is this... okay?"
Would Potter ever shut up? Was he even capable of it? Obviously he needed a lesson on proper speech etiquette as well. He really was an exhausting fellow. Draco stepped around to face Potter, his eyes flitting over Potter’s clean hair, freshly scrubbed skin, his chest moving up and down rapidly. Then he pushed himself bodily against Potter and kissed him, hard.
Potter’s lips were softer when pressed against Draco’s mouth. He had also stopped talking, and instead was kissing Draco back with a force that made Draco’s knees weak. His tongue, the same one that had been unable to reach the smallest dab of pudding, was now deep inside Draco’s mouth, hot and slick. His calloused fingertips were amazingly clever as they slid down Draco’s back, the friction making Draco’s head spin. But, it was merely the scent of musk that enveloped Draco and caused him to moan into Potter’s eager mouth.
Draco pulled away slightly. Potter's bottom lip was full and red, and he had an urge to bite it. He kissed Potter’s jaw and ran his tongue down the length of Potter’s neck.
“Malfoy…”
Potter’s collarbone was visible now that Draco had undone a bothersome button. He bit down gently and swirled his tongue over the smooth skin, inhaling deeply. It was maddening that Potter would wear a button-up to this meeting. Had Potter ever worn a button-up in his life - with such tiny buttons?
“Draco…”
And the infuriating thing about tiny buttons, they took time to undo. Draco tugged a second one free, and looked up into Potter’s dark eyes. He wasn’t all that awful looking, especially up close. He had a tiny freckle under his right eye, and the cutest dimple in his chin that demanded Draco’s immediate attention, and… wait one bloody minute? Draco snapped his face up. “What did you call me?”
Potter chuckled. “It seems only fitting…“
Potter needed to stop talking right now, before Draco did something drastic like -- “You're right. Harry.” Bloody hell.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. The tower was an ideal location for masking flushed cheeks. It was also a perfect spot for stolen kisses that caused them both to sigh into the wind, and each other. Draco might consider thanking Potter for the suggestion. At the moment, though, he was far too busy kissing Potter, kissing Harry.
The End. For Real.
Prompt: H/D, aftershave
Sequel to Distraction and Denial.
Harry/Draco, 1340 words, rated-R
Lesson Plan
Potter was late. Not that Draco had expected the git to be on time. Draco dropped his heavy satchel on the floor of the tower and stared through one of the open windows. The grounds were still void of one idiotic Gryffindor who seemed unable to keep a stupid appointment.
And it was an appointment, a simple meeting that Draco had been charitable enough to arrange. Draco had noted Potter struggling to keep up with the rest of his classmates during Care of Magical Creatures. Potter had even peered over at him that very day in a blatant attempt to copy his notes. It had been a pathetic cry for help, and Draco had decided to be humane. He would save Potter from humiliation and utter failure. He did, after all, owe Potter a favor.
But the pillock was late, and now he was standing Draco up. Well, technically, Potter wasn't late, but in five minutes Potter would be on time, and then he would be late. Maybe Potter was unable to tell time. In that case, Draco could only feel sorry for him.
Draco crossed over to a large telescope and pointed it upward. The Astronomy Tower was an absurd location for a meeting. Potter had been mental to suggest such a ridiculous spot. It was dark and cramped, and certainly not a favorable setting for acquiring knowledge. They would probably have to cuddle together and Draco preferred to stand when he taught, thereby establishing the necessary framework for a proper teacher/student relationship.
He stared up at the North Star and tried to compose his thoughts. If Potter chose to exhibit any sign of intelligence and show up for his first lecture, 'Proper Care of Flobberworms', Draco would have to formulate a simple lesson plan for his floundering student. He couldn't just begin where their crazy professor had left off. Potter was way behind. Draco would need to start over from page one. It was going to be a long night, but Draco was up for the challenge. Potter really should count himself lucky to have acquired the attention of someone as worldly and wise as Draco. Well, maybe attention wasn’t the correct word. Pity, he reasoned, was a far more appropriate term.
Potter really was a moron. Why else would he speak up in class, or wear his cousin's trousers, or worse, a wretched Weasley jumper? He also didn't have a stitch of fashion sense. Clearly, Draco would have to give him a separate lesson in the art of haute couture. It was grotesque to witness the clod wearing the same trousers two times in one week. The Weasel was a bad influence, and it was time that Draco set things straight.
He leaned against the stone sill, stared out into the empty lawn and cursed. He was standing in a tower, freezing to death, and waiting for... Potter. It was preposterous, burlesque and Draco was having no part in it. He wasn't going to die on Potter's watch - not that Potter owned a watch. Draco grabbed his satchel and spun around, immediately stilling at the sight in the entranceway. Potter stood in full view, his white button-up glowing in the moonlight. He wore fitted jeans, leather shoes and a small smile. Draco's bag slipped from his fingers.
"Where are you going?" Potter stepped into the tower.
There was something different about Potter besides his matching clothes and shoes and the way his eyes sparkled as he took another step toward Draco. It wafted through the room, heavy, pressing down on Draco and making his brain fuzzy. Maybe Potter had mastered wandless magic. That must have been the case, because the imbecile was grinning like an idiot, and suddenly Draco's body was buzzing, trembling.
"I was just... turning around."
Potter was doing it on purpose. He deserved to be hexed, and Draco made a mental note to research a hideously painful curse. He would hurl it at Potter in the Great Hall, or during Potions. Surely, Snape would understand, even commend him, when Draco explained the entire scenario, leaving out... most of the details.
Another step closer and Draco leaned back against the wall. Potter was too close, too different, too... gods.
Potter waved a hand. "Hi there."
Draco stared, wide-eyed, as Potter leaned against the wall beside him, rubbed his palms on his jeans, and stared straight ahead. Draco looked at the buttons on Potter's collar, his open collar, and the angular plane of Potter's neck. "You're wearing..." He swallowed hard.
Potter turned to face Draco. "What?"
Draco refused to play Potter's silly game. It was time for action. He reached out and feathered his thumb across the base of Potter's smooth neck. When Potter pulled in a breath, Draco ran his thumb up to Potter's jaw. "Are you wearing aftershave?" Research was important when one makes a hypothesis. Sometimes hands-on analysis was the only way to solve a scientific query.
Potter leaned into Draco's touch. "A little."
Draco pulled his hand away. "I thought so." Potter was far too close now. He was blurring lines and challenging authority and making it very difficult for Draco to breathe.
"Touch me again."
Draco looked at Potter, studying the way he chewed on his lower lip, his eyelids heavy. Then he stopped thinking and reached up, running his thumb over the familiar mouth, feeling the soft lips part beneath his touch.
Potter's hands were rough and warm when they slipped underneath Draco's shirt. They were also shockingly daring as they caressed Draco’s bare stomach and chest, his fingers tracing each rib slowly. "Is this... okay?"
Would Potter ever shut up? Was he even capable of it? Obviously he needed a lesson on proper speech etiquette as well. He really was an exhausting fellow. Draco stepped around to face Potter, his eyes flitting over Potter’s clean hair, freshly scrubbed skin, his chest moving up and down rapidly. Then he pushed himself bodily against Potter and kissed him, hard.
Potter’s lips were softer when pressed against Draco’s mouth. He had also stopped talking, and instead was kissing Draco back with a force that made Draco’s knees weak. His tongue, the same one that had been unable to reach the smallest dab of pudding, was now deep inside Draco’s mouth, hot and slick. His calloused fingertips were amazingly clever as they slid down Draco’s back, the friction making Draco’s head spin. But, it was merely the scent of musk that enveloped Draco and caused him to moan into Potter’s eager mouth.
Draco pulled away slightly. Potter's bottom lip was full and red, and he had an urge to bite it. He kissed Potter’s jaw and ran his tongue down the length of Potter’s neck.
“Malfoy…”
Potter’s collarbone was visible now that Draco had undone a bothersome button. He bit down gently and swirled his tongue over the smooth skin, inhaling deeply. It was maddening that Potter would wear a button-up to this meeting. Had Potter ever worn a button-up in his life - with such tiny buttons?
“Draco…”
And the infuriating thing about tiny buttons, they took time to undo. Draco tugged a second one free, and looked up into Potter’s dark eyes. He wasn’t all that awful looking, especially up close. He had a tiny freckle under his right eye, and the cutest dimple in his chin that demanded Draco’s immediate attention, and… wait one bloody minute? Draco snapped his face up. “What did you call me?”
Potter chuckled. “It seems only fitting…“
Potter needed to stop talking right now, before Draco did something drastic like -- “You're right. Harry.” Bloody hell.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. The tower was an ideal location for masking flushed cheeks. It was also a perfect spot for stolen kisses that caused them both to sigh into the wind, and each other. Draco might consider thanking Potter for the suggestion. At the moment, though, he was far too busy kissing Potter, kissing Harry.
The End. For Real.
Prompt: H/D, aftershave