Happy Birthday, Inspiredlife!!
I'm here. See! I'm here. And I miss you all!!
Title: A Delicate Display
Author: willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Disclaimer: It's all about JKR. I just like to make things up.
A/N: ~900 words.
Dedication: Happy Belated Birthday Inspiredlife. (I'm working on a bigger story for you, but wanted to post this one for now.)
*
It was all a big mistake.
Harry didn't dare look over at Draco now, stretched out lazily beside him. Not when he could easily fix his gaze on the ceiling and pretend none of it had actually happened.
He was panicking, but this was to be expected. A twinge of guilt, a stab of fear deep in his gut, a sinking, smothering sensation that made him want to kick free from the blankets, from Draco.
"Just say it," Draco murmured, shifting closer and taking up most of Harry's pillow.
Harry thought hard, about the cracks in the ceiling paint, about the meal he'd have for dinner-
Draco bumped Harry's thigh with his knee. "Spill it," he yawned.
"It's nothing," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's nothing. It's just…"
"Me," Draco chuckled.
Harry's stomach twisted painfully. He needed a glass of water, or tea. Or maybe he'd brew himself a cup of coffee. That ought to take him a while.
"You know," Draco continued, "this actually isn't about me at all."
Harry looked toward the window. Brilliant rays of morning sun sliced through the blinds and trailed across the tangled pile of clothes on the floor. "Oh no?" he said as nonchalantly as he could.
"It's about you."
Harry turned to face Draco who gazed back, smirking. "No, it's not," he said through gritted teeth. "It's about us."
"If you say so," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders.
Heat rose in Harry's cheeks. He stared at Draco's self-assured expression, at his matted hair and swollen lips, at the way Draco watched him, closely, curiously. "It's just bizarre," he snapped. "Especially after all this-"
"Time?" Draco interjected, propping himself up on one elbow. "You can't be serious. If you are squirming away from me over the passing of time, I'm going to be very pissed off." He raked his hand through his hair; knotted clumps stood at attention and seemed to glare at Harry.
"But don't you at least find this odd-"
"No. I don't," said Draco, the grin falling from his face. "Because maybe we lost track of time. Or it snuck up on us. Or ran away and left us here, helpless, clinging to each other."
"That's not what I meant."
"Of course it's not," Draco said. "You meant it just as it sounded. Time passes, but nothing changes."
"No-"
"Or is suppose to change."
Harry's mouth fell open. He shut it quickly.
"And that's unfortunate," Draco said, eyes narrowing. "For you."
Harry had an urge to rap Draco in the mouth, just to knock the smug expression off his face. Draco's dry wit and sharp tongue still had a nasty habit of rendering Harry speechless and making him see red, and he repeatedly soothed himself with the simple reminder that Draco hadn't changed, not wholly. He was still that eleven year-old boy who enjoyed tormenting others, who craved an audience, even if it was an audience of one, even if the audience was his former rival, sometimes friend.
"Because maybe," Draco went on, "we're making this up as we go along, like we've always done. Only this time there are no rules or restrictions pressing down on us. This time we only have to answer to ourselves. And each other."
Harry couldn't remember the first time he'd started paying attention to Draco's words. It had definitely been by accident. He'd probably been over-tired and Draco had most likely taken advantage of him. But none of it mattered now because Harry was listening, and his resolve was crumbling, and beneath Draco's cutting statements, there was a grain of truth in what he said. And this fact terrified-and thrilled-Harry.
"People change," Draco said, voice low. "We have to allow for it." He slipped his hand beneath the covers and Harry's breath hitched, just for the briefest of moments.
"You have to allow for it," Draco said, shifting closer, "or you lose out." He wound his hand between the sheets until it brushed along Harry's belly.
Harry's legs fell open instinctively.
Draco silently tickled and toyed and scratched across sensitive skin until Harry relaxed, until he could barely breathe, barely think. He continued to stare at Draco's flushed cheeks and lips and the sharp edges of his shoulders. "How do you know all this?" he asked. It seemed like a logical question, one he would regret later.
"I don't," Draco breathed, sliding his leg over Harry's hips, pushing Harry down onto his back and crawling on top of him. "I'm just making this up as I go along."
Harry arched up slowly, into Draco, into his fingers and mouth and the truth of his words. Time wasn't ticking anymore and yet it was a new day. It felt surreal, like a haunting dream that would eventually dissolve, leaving him tingling, wishing…
He grasped Draco's wrists, dug his fingers into thin skin. "So there's nothing either of us can do about this?"
Draco grinned wickedly. Then he dipped down and kissed Harry; he rocked back and forth, crushing his hips over and over into Harry.
Answers were promises, tiny commitments of time and place, and Draco and Harry made love quietly, feverishly.
Rays of sun continued to cut across the room, a delicate display of shadow and light.
Title: A Delicate Display
Author: willysunny
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Disclaimer: It's all about JKR. I just like to make things up.
A/N: ~900 words.
Dedication: Happy Belated Birthday Inspiredlife. (I'm working on a bigger story for you, but wanted to post this one for now.)
*
It was all a big mistake.
Harry didn't dare look over at Draco now, stretched out lazily beside him. Not when he could easily fix his gaze on the ceiling and pretend none of it had actually happened.
He was panicking, but this was to be expected. A twinge of guilt, a stab of fear deep in his gut, a sinking, smothering sensation that made him want to kick free from the blankets, from Draco.
"Just say it," Draco murmured, shifting closer and taking up most of Harry's pillow.
Harry thought hard, about the cracks in the ceiling paint, about the meal he'd have for dinner-
Draco bumped Harry's thigh with his knee. "Spill it," he yawned.
"It's nothing," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's nothing. It's just…"
"Me," Draco chuckled.
Harry's stomach twisted painfully. He needed a glass of water, or tea. Or maybe he'd brew himself a cup of coffee. That ought to take him a while.
"You know," Draco continued, "this actually isn't about me at all."
Harry looked toward the window. Brilliant rays of morning sun sliced through the blinds and trailed across the tangled pile of clothes on the floor. "Oh no?" he said as nonchalantly as he could.
"It's about you."
Harry turned to face Draco who gazed back, smirking. "No, it's not," he said through gritted teeth. "It's about us."
"If you say so," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders.
Heat rose in Harry's cheeks. He stared at Draco's self-assured expression, at his matted hair and swollen lips, at the way Draco watched him, closely, curiously. "It's just bizarre," he snapped. "Especially after all this-"
"Time?" Draco interjected, propping himself up on one elbow. "You can't be serious. If you are squirming away from me over the passing of time, I'm going to be very pissed off." He raked his hand through his hair; knotted clumps stood at attention and seemed to glare at Harry.
"But don't you at least find this odd-"
"No. I don't," said Draco, the grin falling from his face. "Because maybe we lost track of time. Or it snuck up on us. Or ran away and left us here, helpless, clinging to each other."
"That's not what I meant."
"Of course it's not," Draco said. "You meant it just as it sounded. Time passes, but nothing changes."
"No-"
"Or is suppose to change."
Harry's mouth fell open. He shut it quickly.
"And that's unfortunate," Draco said, eyes narrowing. "For you."
Harry had an urge to rap Draco in the mouth, just to knock the smug expression off his face. Draco's dry wit and sharp tongue still had a nasty habit of rendering Harry speechless and making him see red, and he repeatedly soothed himself with the simple reminder that Draco hadn't changed, not wholly. He was still that eleven year-old boy who enjoyed tormenting others, who craved an audience, even if it was an audience of one, even if the audience was his former rival, sometimes friend.
"Because maybe," Draco went on, "we're making this up as we go along, like we've always done. Only this time there are no rules or restrictions pressing down on us. This time we only have to answer to ourselves. And each other."
Harry couldn't remember the first time he'd started paying attention to Draco's words. It had definitely been by accident. He'd probably been over-tired and Draco had most likely taken advantage of him. But none of it mattered now because Harry was listening, and his resolve was crumbling, and beneath Draco's cutting statements, there was a grain of truth in what he said. And this fact terrified-and thrilled-Harry.
"People change," Draco said, voice low. "We have to allow for it." He slipped his hand beneath the covers and Harry's breath hitched, just for the briefest of moments.
"You have to allow for it," Draco said, shifting closer, "or you lose out." He wound his hand between the sheets until it brushed along Harry's belly.
Harry's legs fell open instinctively.
Draco silently tickled and toyed and scratched across sensitive skin until Harry relaxed, until he could barely breathe, barely think. He continued to stare at Draco's flushed cheeks and lips and the sharp edges of his shoulders. "How do you know all this?" he asked. It seemed like a logical question, one he would regret later.
"I don't," Draco breathed, sliding his leg over Harry's hips, pushing Harry down onto his back and crawling on top of him. "I'm just making this up as I go along."
Harry arched up slowly, into Draco, into his fingers and mouth and the truth of his words. Time wasn't ticking anymore and yet it was a new day. It felt surreal, like a haunting dream that would eventually dissolve, leaving him tingling, wishing…
He grasped Draco's wrists, dug his fingers into thin skin. "So there's nothing either of us can do about this?"
Draco grinned wickedly. Then he dipped down and kissed Harry; he rocked back and forth, crushing his hips over and over into Harry.
Answers were promises, tiny commitments of time and place, and Draco and Harry made love quietly, feverishly.
Rays of sun continued to cut across the room, a delicate display of shadow and light.