(no subject)
Title: Firewhiskey and Cigarette Smoke
Author: Flutterling
Pairing: Draco/boy!Blaise
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Summary: There were things about Draco that Blaise never knew he never knew. Set after Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for the 'silver, crisp, autofocus, desultory' challenge at Contrelamontre. 55-60 minutes. Slashy. I'm not sure how much sense it makes, I'm in need of a lot of sleep.
Firewhiskey and Cigarette Smoke
"And so, the plan is coming along satisfactorily... The Dark Lord is most pleased. Oh... Want to try?" You nod in reply and take the object from between his fingers.
The smoke scrabbles and claws at the back of your throat as you inhale, but you are determined not to cough. You smile -- feeling as though you had just shared a passionate kiss with the little silver tray of ash and Muggle cigarette ends on the table next to you -- and pass the cigarette back to it's owner. A smile flashed across his familiar pointed face.
"I bought a pack of these Muggle things once, to see what they were like..." He says desultorily, taking a drag of the slender, white-and-brown stick and looking out the window, his eyes roaming over the sprawling Malfoy Estate. "And now I'm addicted to the damn things." He laughs.
You try to hide how uncomfortable you are, how nervous, and run your hand through your dark hair. You attempt to laugh, but instead emit a strangled coughing noise.
Only looking concerned for a moment, he grinds the cigarette into the silver tray. He looks at you with his grey eyes, and you feel yourself growing more and more anxious under his gaze.
He leans nearer to you, almost leering. His breath smells strongly of the Firewhiskey he's been swigging for the past hour and a half, and his hair shines in the soft light of the study.
And suddenly instead of just smelling the Firewhiskey you're tasting it's crisp, unpleasant tang on his lips, and instead of seeing your hair you're feeling it beneath your fingertips, and you can't think straight because you know that you shouldn't be kissing Draco Malfoy of all people, that this is very, very wrong--
And then it stops. You've pulled away. He bows his head, almost-blushing, and wipes his sticky mouth with the back of one hand.
"Blaise, I--" You cut him off, even more embarrassed than he is.
"It's okay, I understand.. You're half-drunk, and- and--" It was his turn to interrupt.
"No, Zabini," He hissed quietly, frowning. "This has nothing to do with--" He grabbed the tall bottle and took a long mouthful, and looked as though he was trying to build up the courage to say something "-- the Firewhiskey. It's all to do with.. To do with you."
"Ah -- Oh," Is the only thing you can think to say. You glance around the room, trying to look at everything but the man standing in front of you. Your eyes landed on a Wizard camera, lying on the mahogany desk in the centre of the room. A little label on it read 'Autofocus'. You try to concentrate on the word, anything to stop you from thinking about your current situation.
You're jerked unceremoniously out of your reverie as Draco speaks again.
"You've always... intrigued me, Zabini," He says, with a half-hearted attempt at his usual smirk. You manage to say something coherent in reply this time.
"Intrigued you, Malfoy?"
"Damn it, call me Draco, Blaise!" He snaps, lighting another cigarette. "I've... always been interested in you. At first I didn't know what it was I was feeling, but after a while, it became quite obvious. You must have noticed that I haven't had a girlfriend since my fourth year of Hogwarts."
You swallowed several times. You had noticed, in fact. And you had always hoped that he was like you in that one respect...
"In any case," He sighs, "I'm sorry, Blaise." He taps his cigarette over the same silver tray, letting the ash fall. And suddenly you feel brave, braver than you've ever felt -- Hell, you could even be one of those self-righteous Gryffindors at this moment.
"Don't be sorry, Draco."
You pluck his cigarette from his lips and drop it into the tray. And then you press your lips against his, tasting the cigarette, and feel, for the second time that night like you're in a passionate embrace with the ash-tray on the desk.
Draco pulls you and leans up against said desk, knocking the camera to the floor and you can think of nothing but the taste of Firewhiskey ans cigarette smoke on his lips which, now that you thought about it, isn't so unpleasant after all.
Author: Flutterling
Pairing: Draco/boy!Blaise
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Summary: There were things about Draco that Blaise never knew he never knew. Set after Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for the 'silver, crisp, autofocus, desultory' challenge at Contrelamontre. 55-60 minutes. Slashy. I'm not sure how much sense it makes, I'm in need of a lot of sleep.
Firewhiskey and Cigarette Smoke
"And so, the plan is coming along satisfactorily... The Dark Lord is most pleased. Oh... Want to try?" You nod in reply and take the object from between his fingers.
The smoke scrabbles and claws at the back of your throat as you inhale, but you are determined not to cough. You smile -- feeling as though you had just shared a passionate kiss with the little silver tray of ash and Muggle cigarette ends on the table next to you -- and pass the cigarette back to it's owner. A smile flashed across his familiar pointed face.
"I bought a pack of these Muggle things once, to see what they were like..." He says desultorily, taking a drag of the slender, white-and-brown stick and looking out the window, his eyes roaming over the sprawling Malfoy Estate. "And now I'm addicted to the damn things." He laughs.
You try to hide how uncomfortable you are, how nervous, and run your hand through your dark hair. You attempt to laugh, but instead emit a strangled coughing noise.
Only looking concerned for a moment, he grinds the cigarette into the silver tray. He looks at you with his grey eyes, and you feel yourself growing more and more anxious under his gaze.
He leans nearer to you, almost leering. His breath smells strongly of the Firewhiskey he's been swigging for the past hour and a half, and his hair shines in the soft light of the study.
And suddenly instead of just smelling the Firewhiskey you're tasting it's crisp, unpleasant tang on his lips, and instead of seeing your hair you're feeling it beneath your fingertips, and you can't think straight because you know that you shouldn't be kissing Draco Malfoy of all people, that this is very, very wrong--
And then it stops. You've pulled away. He bows his head, almost-blushing, and wipes his sticky mouth with the back of one hand.
"Blaise, I--" You cut him off, even more embarrassed than he is.
"It's okay, I understand.. You're half-drunk, and- and--" It was his turn to interrupt.
"No, Zabini," He hissed quietly, frowning. "This has nothing to do with--" He grabbed the tall bottle and took a long mouthful, and looked as though he was trying to build up the courage to say something "-- the Firewhiskey. It's all to do with.. To do with you."
"Ah -- Oh," Is the only thing you can think to say. You glance around the room, trying to look at everything but the man standing in front of you. Your eyes landed on a Wizard camera, lying on the mahogany desk in the centre of the room. A little label on it read 'Autofocus'. You try to concentrate on the word, anything to stop you from thinking about your current situation.
You're jerked unceremoniously out of your reverie as Draco speaks again.
"You've always... intrigued me, Zabini," He says, with a half-hearted attempt at his usual smirk. You manage to say something coherent in reply this time.
"Intrigued you, Malfoy?"
"Damn it, call me Draco, Blaise!" He snaps, lighting another cigarette. "I've... always been interested in you. At first I didn't know what it was I was feeling, but after a while, it became quite obvious. You must have noticed that I haven't had a girlfriend since my fourth year of Hogwarts."
You swallowed several times. You had noticed, in fact. And you had always hoped that he was like you in that one respect...
"In any case," He sighs, "I'm sorry, Blaise." He taps his cigarette over the same silver tray, letting the ash fall. And suddenly you feel brave, braver than you've ever felt -- Hell, you could even be one of those self-righteous Gryffindors at this moment.
"Don't be sorry, Draco."
You pluck his cigarette from his lips and drop it into the tray. And then you press your lips against his, tasting the cigarette, and feel, for the second time that night like you're in a passionate embrace with the ash-tray on the desk.
Draco pulls you and leans up against said desk, knocking the camera to the floor and you can think of nothing but the taste of Firewhiskey ans cigarette smoke on his lips which, now that you thought about it, isn't so unpleasant after all.