Six linked drabbles
Feb. 11th, 2009 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
twisted_miracleTitle: Virginity patrol
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
twistedm
Character(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!
Summary: With friends like these….
Author’s Note: I haven’t forgotten my WIPs! Not here or elsewhere. But I am attempting to fight my way out of a long drought, and this seemed to be an option. So I took it. I hope you enjoy it!
*&^&*
A party in full swing: dancing, drinking, cocaine snorted discreetly in the back bedroom. Draco swirling through the center. His barely diaphanous, smoky grey robe a true match for his eyes. His flat: perfect. His glittering friends: obediently wearing only white or black.
Twenty-three tonight and he could not have been happier. The world was his oyster. He sipped his lemon martini and turned to smile winningly at the newest guest through his front door.
His smile froze in half. The new “guest” turned out to be the side of a short, armed, uniformed Auror.
Swallowing reactions, Draco stepped forward.
*&^&*
Someone’s high-pitched giggle broke abruptly. Draco wore a professional smile before the Auror finished turning toward him. “Is there a problem, Auror… Potter?”
“Mr Malfoy.” Potter’s nod implied a bow. “DMLE understands a wizard at this residence has tonight acquired the prime age of twenty-three years, in an… untapped magical state.”
“Goodnight, Draco!” Astoria trilled, and Draco watched, dumbstruck, as guests murmured goodbyes and headed for his door and Floo. Soon he was alone in his flat with lonely decorations, warming booze for fifty and a broad-shouldered, calmly confident Harry Potter.
“You’ve ruined my party.” Anger seeped into his voice.
*&^&*
“I’m sorry sir, but you’re in magical emergency.”
Reckless with anger and a residual high from the brilliance that had been his party, Draco jabbed at Potter’s chest for emphasis. “Bollocks. This is harassment. You hate me! You’re obviously here solely to ruin my night. My magic is perfect. I’ll prove it by throwing you into the street!”
“Sir,” Potter replied patiently, and Draco nearly erupted.
“Stop feigning respect, arsehole!”
“It isn’t feigned!” Potter yelped, finally impatient. “Are you really still a virgin?”
“What?” Draco perched on the white couch. “How is that your business?” he asked, voice regaining firmness.
*&^&*
“Sir,” Potter began, and now Draco heard the softness there, “that’s the untapped magical state. Twenty-three’s prime. You can’t remain virginal, your magic could spiral.”
Potter took Draco's hands. Wands dangled awkwardly, left and right. Potter’s skin felt rough and warm.
“Seventeen’s prime,” Draco realized. Potter’s eyes were green as warm summer’s grass. Draco imagined picnics before a headshake returned his sense.
“Nineteen too,” Potter sighed. “But virginity only becomes dangerous at twenty-three.”
Staring, Draco paused stupidly before his challenge arose. “Wasn’t wrecking my party counter-productive?”
"Had you wanted an old friend I wouldn’t need to be here."
“I….”
*&^&*
“I know this is sudden, Mr Malfoy, but….”
Potter paused, staring into Draco's eyes. Wordless, pinned like a butterfly, Draco knew he should question, insist, desist. But instead he held onto Potter’s roughwarm hands, waiting.
“Shit,” Potter eventually muttered, and pressed Draco's personal space. “Wanna kiss you so bad,” he mumbled and Draco couldn’t even nod before dry lips were on his and big hands were in his hair and the small of his back and he scooted ‘til they fell onto the couch, wands on the floor, legs awkward over the arm, erections throbbed together and who was moaning?
*&^&*
Draco never hated a robe, or a couch, more. He’d have Apparated them into the bedroom, but their wands were lost to the floor and separation was unacceptable.
“If I beg, will you fuck me?” Potter whispered into his neck.
“Begging’s unnecessary, but don’t you want….”
“To top? Desperately. Second?”
“Maybe, but… my friends must feel so awkward. Should I owl?”
“Er….”
“What,” Draco snapped, suddenly cold.
“Your friends, called me.”
“I… what?”
“Said you were a virgin. Thought I might, help?”
“Merlin,” Draco sighed relief, throwing arms back around Harry, “is nothing sacred?”
“Friendship?” Harry tried.
“Bedroom,” Draco agreed.
*&^&*
Finis
Author:
twistedmCharacter(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to the clever Scottish lady. I just bend them and love them. Please don't smack me for playing. It isn't like I am going to earn any money from this!
Summary: With friends like these….
Author’s Note: I haven’t forgotten my WIPs! Not here or elsewhere. But I am attempting to fight my way out of a long drought, and this seemed to be an option. So I took it. I hope you enjoy it!
A party in full swing: dancing, drinking, cocaine snorted discreetly in the back bedroom. Draco swirling through the center. His barely diaphanous, smoky grey robe a true match for his eyes. His flat: perfect. His glittering friends: obediently wearing only white or black.
Twenty-three tonight and he could not have been happier. The world was his oyster. He sipped his lemon martini and turned to smile winningly at the newest guest through his front door.
His smile froze in half. The new “guest” turned out to be the side of a short, armed, uniformed Auror.
Swallowing reactions, Draco stepped forward.
Someone’s high-pitched giggle broke abruptly. Draco wore a professional smile before the Auror finished turning toward him. “Is there a problem, Auror… Potter?”
“Mr Malfoy.” Potter’s nod implied a bow. “DMLE understands a wizard at this residence has tonight acquired the prime age of twenty-three years, in an… untapped magical state.”
“Goodnight, Draco!” Astoria trilled, and Draco watched, dumbstruck, as guests murmured goodbyes and headed for his door and Floo. Soon he was alone in his flat with lonely decorations, warming booze for fifty and a broad-shouldered, calmly confident Harry Potter.
“You’ve ruined my party.” Anger seeped into his voice.
“I’m sorry sir, but you’re in magical emergency.”
Reckless with anger and a residual high from the brilliance that had been his party, Draco jabbed at Potter’s chest for emphasis. “Bollocks. This is harassment. You hate me! You’re obviously here solely to ruin my night. My magic is perfect. I’ll prove it by throwing you into the street!”
“Sir,” Potter replied patiently, and Draco nearly erupted.
“Stop feigning respect, arsehole!”
“It isn’t feigned!” Potter yelped, finally impatient. “Are you really still a virgin?”
“What?” Draco perched on the white couch. “How is that your business?” he asked, voice regaining firmness.
“Sir,” Potter began, and now Draco heard the softness there, “that’s the untapped magical state. Twenty-three’s prime. You can’t remain virginal, your magic could spiral.”
Potter took Draco's hands. Wands dangled awkwardly, left and right. Potter’s skin felt rough and warm.
“Seventeen’s prime,” Draco realized. Potter’s eyes were green as warm summer’s grass. Draco imagined picnics before a headshake returned his sense.
“Nineteen too,” Potter sighed. “But virginity only becomes dangerous at twenty-three.”
Staring, Draco paused stupidly before his challenge arose. “Wasn’t wrecking my party counter-productive?”
"Had you wanted an old friend I wouldn’t need to be here."
“I….”
“I know this is sudden, Mr Malfoy, but….”
Potter paused, staring into Draco's eyes. Wordless, pinned like a butterfly, Draco knew he should question, insist, desist. But instead he held onto Potter’s roughwarm hands, waiting.
“Shit,” Potter eventually muttered, and pressed Draco's personal space. “Wanna kiss you so bad,” he mumbled and Draco couldn’t even nod before dry lips were on his and big hands were in his hair and the small of his back and he scooted ‘til they fell onto the couch, wands on the floor, legs awkward over the arm, erections throbbed together and who was moaning?
Draco never hated a robe, or a couch, more. He’d have Apparated them into the bedroom, but their wands were lost to the floor and separation was unacceptable.
“If I beg, will you fuck me?” Potter whispered into his neck.
“Begging’s unnecessary, but don’t you want….”
“To top? Desperately. Second?”
“Maybe, but… my friends must feel so awkward. Should I owl?”
“Er….”
“What,” Draco snapped, suddenly cold.
“Your friends, called me.”
“I… what?”
“Said you were a virgin. Thought I might, help?”
“Merlin,” Draco sighed relief, throwing arms back around Harry, “is nothing sacred?”
“Friendship?” Harry tried.
“Bedroom,” Draco agreed.
Finis
