|Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven,|
@ 2007-08-08 21:42:00
|Entry tags:||hp fic draco/harry|
HP fic: Practice [Harry/Draco, general]
Warnings: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows. Set pre-epilogue.
Summary: [highlight to see summary] At the beginning of their delayed seventh year, Harry and Draco meet on the Quidditch field.
Note: Teenyfic (395 words) written for gblvr, at the request of cruisedirector, who suggested Harry/Draco, prompt "postwar snarky in love."
"Didn't you get enough of trailing after me in sixth year?" Draco tilted his head, a stray beam of sunlight turning his hair to gold. "People are going to notice."
"Am I supposed to care? You're the one who felt me up during the battle." Harry smirked back.
"That was simply taking advantage of an opportunity. Certainly there was no chance that anyone would be paying attention. I figured that if I was about to die, at least I'd get some of what I wanted, first."
They faced each other under the Quidditch stands. After a year away, Harry had decided he needed some early morning practice before trying out for the team again; Draco had evidently had the same idea.
"You really do want me, then." Harry's breath came faster.
"Overlooking the obvious once again, Potter?" Draco stepped closer to him, close enough that Harry could touch him, could see the almost-faded sleep crease across his left cheek.
He looked down. "Not that obvious through Quidditch robes, is it?"
"Point." Draco's hands began to unbutton his robes.
Harry swallowed, dragging his gaze back to Draco's face. "What are you doing? Anyone could come past and see us."
"What does it look like I'm doing? And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave?" But Draco stopped, instead reaching for Harry. "Mm. Maybe a bit fast for a soppy Gryffindor..."
Before Harry could protest – not that he would have – Draco's lips were on his own, warm and a little chapped. Draco put his arms around Harry's waist and pulled them closer, so that Harry could feel the bulge of Draco's erection against his thigh, and knew that Draco felt his, too. He'd thought about this ever since he'd rescued Draco in the Room of Requirement, when Draco had held him so tightly.
He opened his mouth, flicking his tongue against Draco's lips and tasting him, a hint of spiciness – his tea, perhaps? – that somehow made him want to lick Draco all over.
"Not bad," said Draco when they broke off for air, but his attempt at casualness was belied by the glassiness of his eyes.
"Neither were you." Harry straightened his spectacles, both smudged and awry.
"Harry?" Ron's voice carried from the distance. "You there? Thought you were heading out to practice."
"Practice is always useful," Draco murmured. "Want to meet later for some more?"