|Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven,|
@ 2010-10-18 16:14:00
|Entry tags:||hp fic draco/harry|
HP fic: One Stolen Afternoon [Draco/Harry, adult]
Title: One Stolen Afternoon
Pairing: Draco/Harry; also Asteria/Draco and Ginny/Harry
Warnings: infidelity - one night stand
Summary: One stolen afternoon never happened again... and for seventeen years Draco didn't think he regretted it.
Note: Written for the hp_unfaithful One-Night Stand Mini-Fest. I was actually bunnied by one of the example prompts; go figure. For snegurochka_lee, without whom it would not have been written.
He never changes, thought Draco half fondly, half resentfully when he saw Harry on Platform 9 ¾. He knew the same could not be said for himself; he touched his thinning hair with a self conscious gesture before turning the movement into a straightening of his tie.
Beside him his wife was patting their son's head and saying all of the appropriate things, telling Scorpius that they would write weekly and expected him to do the same, saying that he should study hard but have fun, and assuring him that he would enjoy his first term at Hogwarts and they would see him at the holidays. Draco made all the appropriate noises of agreement, but he wasn't really listening. He was staring at Harry, willing him to look up.
Even from that distance Draco could see the way that Harry froze for a moment, his eyes meeting Draco's despite all the people between them. He gave a slow deliberate nod in Draco's direction and Draco returned it before they each returned their attention to their respective families.
When at last the train pulled out, Draco didn't bother to see if the Potters were still there. He bent to whisper in his wife's ear, "Let's go home and back to bed."
"Oh, Draco," she said with a giggle, "how naughty of you. Of course."
As Draco made her writhe like a doxy in heat, though, what he saw was not the slim blonde form of his wife, but the still-muscular figure of Harry Potter, and as he gasped through his orgasm, he had to bite back Harry's name from his lips.
Their single encounter had been nearly seventeen years before, and most of the time Draco was able to put it out of his head. Nothing about it had matched his image of himself. And yet –