[Saturday Afternoon][PG][Harry/Draco] Original poster: ninkasa
Title: Saturday Afternoon Author: ninkasa Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: PG Word Count: 1888 Summary: Draco has an interesting start to his weekend. *Sequel to “Something Else Entirely”
He wonders sometimes if he’d beaten Weasley to that compartment on that first day if things would be different.
He doesn’t wonder it that often, because Draco is not inclined to wondering futilely about things in the past. The things that he can’t change and isn’t quite sure he wants to change anyway.
Except things seemed to changing anyway, because he was standing alone in an empty classroom with the bloody saviour of the wizarding world and neither of them were attempting to hex the other.
They were just standing there staring at each other in a manner that made Draco think of cats or his mother and father when he walks in on a conversation they don’t want him to hear.
It occurs to him that for a school that’s supposed to be so full of students there are certainly a lot of empty classrooms in the place.
“What do you want?” Draco says after a moment. “I like to consider my weekends Potter-free if you don’t mind.”
Not that he cared particularly what Potter minded except it seemed the easiest way to get out of the room as Potter was blocking the doorway at the moment.
Draco could have bitten his tongue off for blurting out what he did last week. Except at the time he’d been thinking more about biting bits of Potter and hexing that first year as he’d sauntered from the Great Hall had not done much to ease this difficulty.
And now Potter had him cornered in some empty classroom and Draco found himself not trying terribly hard to get out of the room or even to hex Potter into next Tuesday.
Clearly something had gone askew in the universe and his father would show up momentarily wearing a tea cozy and telling him he and Arthur Weasley were eloping.
Draco was considering this possibility with more interest than he should have done and therefore missed whatever scathing remark Potter made in response to his original comment.
Draco blinked quickly, erasing the appalling images that were polluting his mind and looked instead at Potter.
Which added new images that no doubt his father would find appalling to know his son was having.
They just made Draco a little weary and a lot aroused and he considered hexing the first person he happened upon as soon as he got out of this bloody classroom.
He’d consider hexing Potter but he doesn’t think he’d be able to come up with a good excuse for whatever teacher happens to find them.
Draco opted instead for scowling at Potter. Except it comes across more as leering and he just hopes Potter doesn’t notice.
“I asked why you and Par—Pansy split up.” Potter looks vaguely self-conscious at this statement and Draco feels as if someone has knocked the wind out of him.
It takes a moment before Draco can form a coherent response. He doesn’t think it’s any of Potter’s business either way, but he certainly has no intention of telling Potter that he’d begun to suspect Pansy of dating him simply for his name and what attention she could get. Which he could have handled. What he could not handle was her buggering Zabini behind – or what she thought was behind his back.
Nothing happened in his own House that he didn’t know about.
And he has no intention of telling Potter any of this. Despite the sympathetic look that has affixed itself on Potter’s face – or perhaps it’s indigestion. Either way it seems to be in response to however Draco is looking at the moment so he shakes his head and responds with, “Not really any of your business, is it Potter?”
Honestly, he shouldn’t have approached Potter at all the other day, but he’d still been reeling slightly from the split with Pansy and he’d been up half the night before, feeling ridiculously stupid and the stupidity had still been there that morning. Which was why he’d approached Potter in the first place. Clearly something had been wrong as it had been Saturday and – as Draco had just stated – he considered his weekends Potter free.
And Draco is firmly aware that his statement lacks any conviction or venom, but the statement should have been enough either way to send Potter scurrying on to wherever it is Potter goes when he’s not annoying the hell out of Draco.
It should not send Potter steps closer to Draco until Draco retreats backwards and slams hard into the wall of the classroom.
At least the door is free now.
Potter is breathing Draco’s air now and it occurs to Draco that he should put his knee between Potter’s legs and bolt completely, except Potter’s knee is already between his legs and Draco can’t do much except gasp slightly.
Draco licks very dry lips before demanding, “Exactly what do you think you’re doing, Potter?”
He’s nearly cross-eyed, Potter is so close to his face. And Draco would hex him if Potter’s hands weren’t suddenly on his arms.
All Draco can see is wide green eyes and soft lips – except he’s not seeing the lips so much as feeling them against his own and after a moment of standing with his mouth firmly closed and his eyes wide open, it occurs to him that so long as Potter is so intent on kissing him he might as well remind Potter that he IS superior in all things Potter might attempt.
The fact that he’s been thinking of kissing Potter since third year has nothing to do with it.
When Draco finally gives in – just enough to relax and shut his eyes – Potter seems to take this as an invitation to lay siege to his mouth and Draco’s not entirely certain but one of them moans and he’s about half sure that it wasn’t him.
And clearly he’s losing what little control he never had over the situation.
Potter is not exactly the best kisser in the world, but what he lacks in finesse he makes up for with enthusiasm and Draco finds himself catching onto Potter’s hands in order to gain at least a semblance of control.
Draco shifts his weight slightly and deepens the kiss, and after a moment when he hears Potter inhale quickly he releases Potter’s hands in order to use his own hands for better purposes – such as pulling the other boy closer to him and suddenly fingers are running through his hair and if he were a cat he’d purr.
It does occur to Draco that kissing Potter is not at all like kissing Pansy – besides the obvious reasons of Pansy being softer, more pliant and. . .well, more female. Potter tastes vaguely of lemon tarts and chocolate pudding – an odd combination, but Draco put bananas on his porridge this morning, so who is he to judge? Potter smells of grass, broom polish and a sort of minty scent which Draco will have to try to place later because it is not a scent that occurs naturally. Potter’s clumsy, but enthusiastic and is having no difficulty at all letting his hands do whatever they want while his mouth is occupied; Which means Draco keeps having these vague moments of concern as hands are reaching beneath his sweater and running against his stomach and if he’s not careful it IS going to be him moaning and he just couldn’t bear that humiliation right now.
And clearly sense should kick in any moment now and one of them should hex the other one. Or at least cry rape.
But sense does not kick in. What does kick in is the intense desire to breathe and Potter pulls back and Draco finds himself standing on somewhat wobbly legs staring at his equally disoriented arch-enemy and there are no lessons at this school or any other that would prepare him for what to do now.
He feels he should say something profound. . .or at least scathing, but what comes out of his mouth is, “Now what?”
Potter blinks and stares and then clears his throat. “What?”
Draco rolls his eyes, because really, this is too much for anyone to be expected to bear when they haven’t eaten since breakfast and are exhausted from overlong Quidditch practices.
“Now what?” he repeats and he knows he’s not making himself clear, but honestly, he’s the one who keeps getting sexually assaulted on Saturday afternoons so Potter should really step up his game here.
Potter makes a silent “oh” and Draco wants to roll his eyes again but refrains from doing so because twice in as many minutes would probably only encourage Potter to go on taking his damned sweet time figuring out what Draco is saying.
After a moment, Potter says, “What do you want to do?”
“What do you want to do?” Draco fires back, refusing to be the one who’s taking responsibility for this ridiculous situation they’re in.
“I asked you first.”
“You assaulted me,” Draco replies and is vaguely aware that he’s losing his grip on this situation again.
Potter opens his mouth. . .closes it and Draco feels slightly dizzy again, but it’s probably blood sugar and not the intense desire to put his mouth over Potter’s again.
“I did not. . . ‘assault’ you,” Potter says suddenly finding the tops of his trainers very interesting. He looks up again. “You didn’t hex me,” he says as if this is suddenly encouraging.
“N-no,” Draco stutters, wondering if it’s too late to do so now. He’s very tempted to fire an Obliviate spell on both of them and go back to pretending this damned. . .thing wasn’t happening.
Because “thing” is the only word to define whatever this fascination he and Potter have with each other because it is much more complex than the usual hatred or even schoolhouse rivalry.
And Draco wishes this had occurred to him four years ago before his hormones had kicked in and this. . .thing they had went all pear-shaped on him while he wasn’t paying attention.
But it’s too late to attempt to do anything about it now and since he does not possess a time turner or indeed even know where to steal one. . .Draco decides they might as well just go on and see what the hell happens.
“What do you want to do?” Potter repeats while Draco is coming to his decision.
Draco frowns for a moment, considering.
“I want to go eat lunch,” he says, because his stomach feels as if it’s about to leave and go obtain food on its own if he doesn’t do something soon.
Potter blinks. “It’s almost dinner now,” he says after a moment.
“Dinner, then,” Draco says. He pauses. “Have you eaten?”
Potter shakes his head and Draco nods.
“Alright. Food first.” He’s a realist, honestly and he can’t be expected to deal with his and Potter’s hormones or. . .whatever – on an empty stomach.
“But what about--”
“Food first, Potter,” Draco interrupts. “Come on,” he says, moving past Potter to open the door. “There won’t be anyone in the Great Hall this late – we can decide what to do over dinner.”