hd365_mod (hd365_mod) wrote in hd_365, @ 2006-02-17 21:49:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | exhausted |
Entry tags: | ida-fic, prompt 4: romance |
What's in a name?
Original poster: idamonae
This is unbeta’d. I apologize, but it’s late enough already…I honestly forgot it was my week to post. *wince*
All mistakes are mine and I take full responsibility for them.
Title: What’s in a Name?
Author: idamonae
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1, 118
Disclaimer: SO not mine. I’m poor. I’m not making any money from this. Please don’t sue.
Summary: Draco wants Mr. Potter
Harry picked up Draco’s hand and tenderly kissed the knuckles on the finger that sparkled gently with the promise he’d made Draco the day before. Harry blushed. “I love that you wear this.” For his part, Draco had nothing to say, but his eyebrows did wiggle slightly as he tried to hide a smirk. He allowed his partner to caress his hand as he led him down the walk, the brisk February air dabbling massive pink globes on his cheeks to match Harry’s blush.
They wandered into a quaint street corner and slipped into a hidden alcove. When Draco opened the door, his sensitive nose was assaulted with the heavy scent of garlic and onions. He repressed a giggle. He’d made this reservation two weeks ago, and now he had Monday’s garlic episode to continuously play over in his head whenever he saw/tasted/smelled/thought of anything garlic. It had been a most embarrassing episode that morning when one of his boss’ numerous secretaries had been munching on garlic seasoned cashews during a meeting, which normally would have made Draco want to gag, but in this instance, had made his trousers immeasurably tighter. He allowed Harry to remove his coat, and they waited patiently behind an elderly couple who must have squeezed into the restaurant mere moments before they had. Draco felt calm. The weekend was here, it was Friday night, and he was about to sit down for one of the hottest meals in town with his lover, and share an intimate evening in dim light with plenty of wine and warm comfort. He reached out for Harry’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Harry’s green eyes sparkled and he squeezed back without sparing a glance to see “who might be looking.” “I love you.” Draco mouthed, to which Harry replied with a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. Draco felt something warm melt inside him and a sweeping cascade of lethargy settled over his body. He leaned into Harry lovingly and smiled. The warm bubble of happiness was abruptly burst however, when he finally heard what Harry was saying to the attendant. “What do you mean, you don’t have our reservation?” Draco stared at the pompous man in the coat tales who dared to tell him that he had no “Draco Malfoy” on his list.
“I am sorry Sir, but I have no Malfoy on my list. There is no table for you, and we are unfortunately booked.”
Draco’s face went from pale to red in 0.001 seconds. “Excuse me? Do you have any idea who I am? I called and booked the table two weeks ago. There must be some mistake.”
The man made a show of flipping around his papers and sighed. “I’m afraid not sir. I have no evidence of a table for anyone named “Malfoy.” If you like, I can take a reservation for two weeks from today?”
Draco felt his heart sink. “I booked the table,” he murmured helplessly. He could feel Harry’s warm hands rubbing soothing circles into his back.
“It’s alright, love.” Harry soothed. “We can go somewhere else.”
Draco shook his head. “It was supposed to be perfect!”
“Draco, it’s always perfect with you.” Harry smiled, moving to help Draco back into his coat. He was suddenly struck with a very daring idea. A ludicrous idea. He looked at the man flipping his papers. “I don’t suppose you have a reservation for Potter?” He tried. He didn’t notice Draco’s eyes widen in alarm.
The man checked his list and smiled. “Actually sir, I do. For seven o’clock.”
Harry smiled and put Draco’s coat back on the rack. “That would be me.” He nodded, placing his hand at the small of Draco’s back comfortingly while the couple was let to an adorable table in the back of the cute restaurant. Harry held Draco’s chair so he could sit before seating himself. He waited in silence while Draco ordered both the wine, and their meals and appetizers with a dopey smiled on his face, loving the way Draco was so animated tonight. Once they were alone, he reached across the table and grasped his lover’s hand. “So, Mr. Potter?”
Draco turned pink. “Bite me, scarhead.” He took a sip of his wine and admired the gorgeous stained glass window off to the left.
“Draco?” Harry teased softly, caressing the soft white hand between his own.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Harry.” Draco growled.
Harry nodded. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, angel. It’s cute though. You’ve been stressed lately, ever so busy with all of your work. These things happen, but you don’t need to get defensive. I won’t read too much into it, I promise.”
Draco looked up at him through lidded eyes. “Promise?”
Harry nodded gently and sipped from his own glass. He swallowed. “I promise, love.”
~~xxxxxxx8>~
Later, when Draco was clinging at his shoulders while he sheathed himself ever deeper in the blonde’s lithe body, Harry tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about what sharing his name with the man who anchored him so completely might mean. Draco was the only man who never let his head get too big, but didn’t allow it to get too small either. Harry sighed happily and nipped at Draco’s throat, pleased when Draco wrapped his long legs around his waist. He loved the little noise Draco made when he kissed his forehead just so. He loved the piece of hair that never stayed down in the mornings, and he loved the coffee ring Draco’s mug always left on the counter because he was too lazy to wipe it up. Harry groaned, and shifted his body, lifting Draco off the mattress while he thrust as deeply as possible, reveling in the way Draco clung to him. He loved to feel needed.
When Draco climaxed, it was beautiful. The wave of lethargy that he’d nursed all night returned in full force and he slumped onto his back in exhaustion, holding Harry’s rapidly cooling body to his chest. Harry purred in his best imitation of the Gryffindor lion, and Draco laughed easily, smoothing away his sweaty hair from his brow. Draco loved the wrinkle the developed between Harry’s eyebrows when he was in deep thought. He loved the slightly vacant expression his lover had when they were in bed and Harry was without his glasses. He didn’t even mind picking up Harry’s towel’s in the bath. “You know?” He whispered lazily, listening to his and Harry’s heartbeats echo in the quiet of the night. “It might have meant something.”
Harry smiled against his chest, but kept quiet. If you don’t talk about a wish, it might come true.