Harry Potter and the Jam Situation
Title: Harry Potter and the Jam Situation
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,500
Characters: Draco/ Harry Blaise
Warnings: Slash- I has it.
Summary: Draco has an odd quirk. Written for hd_fluff's September prompt: apple orchard and this month's jmdc challenge: What will the neighbours think? Dedicated to appleling for being a wonderful, encouraging and thoughtful reader and friend. Plus, its all about apples and I can't resist a good pun.
Author's notes: So yeah, I'm not sure what happened here. It was supposed to be under 2,000 words and I basically turned it into this big, giant plot thing. At least its all fluffy. Hopefully, this doesnt suck too much. Enjoy, everyone! Or not. I don't know... *slumps*
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. The following was written for fun, not profit.
Harry bolted up the stairs of the small apartment complex, his heart thudding frantically. His sides ached, and he was panting but he didn’t dare stop. Zabini’s note had been short and brusque, but he had specifically mentioned the word ‘emergency’.
There wasn’t much that Zabini and Harry had in common. But what they did share (albeit grudgingly) was the last person Harry wanted to associate with the word emergency. His heart did a fair impression of the Weird Sisters’ drummer and he hurtled on.
By the time he was hammering on Zabini’s door, his panic had increased ten fold. The Italian answered, looking weary, anxious and annoyingly well dressed for nine in the morning. “Finally” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring imperiously at Harry.
Harry ignored him, barging in and frantically looking around for anything that might qualify as an emergency. The apartment was pretentious and extravagant, but certainly not on fire and aside from the occasional bang and clatter from the kitchen he couldn’t detect any sign of a mob attack. On the downside, Draco was missing. Harry’s heart plummeted.
“Where’s Draco?” he barked, turning on the Italian. “What’s the emergency? Is he missing? Is he hurt?”
“Worse, Potter” Zabini answered, his frown darkening his aristocratic features “I fear its much, much worse.”
Harry felt his insides twist and he fought to remain calm. “What…what happened?” he croaked.
Blaise took a deep breath and turned to face him. “He’s making jam.”
Harry blinked.
Twice.
It didnt help.
“What?” he squeaked out. He had heard wrong. Of course, he had. There was no way Zabini had just said…
“Jam, Potter” the Italian repeated grimly, as he started to pace “As we speak, Draco Malfoy is in my kitchen making jam like its going out of style. My sources have confirmed that its apple flavoured. We’re doomed.”
Harry would have asked what sources reported to him from the sodding kitchen, but all his mental faculties were somewhat preoccupied with Blaise Zabini’s tragic descent into complete madness.
“Jam?” he clarified faintly. “This…this is about jam?”
Blaise shot him an exasperated look. “Potter, do come up to speed. Honestly, they just let anyone save the world these days…”
Harry only shook his head wearily. “So…you dragged me down here to your apartment on a sodding Saturday because Draco decided to play Martha Stewart?” It sounded even madder when he said it out loud…
“Obscure muggle references notwithstanding, your scepticism is understandable” Blaise sniffed “However, trust me when I say, Potter that this is a very bad thing. We’re talking life and death here.”
“That’s a matter of opinion, don’t you think?” Harry muttered.
Blaise bristled like an indignant porcupine. “Look Wonder Boy, you’ve been shacking up with Draco for a year or something. I’ve been best friends with the blighter ever since he tried to sue Santa Claus for professional incompetence. So we’re listening to old Blaise on this one, all right?”
Harry’s lips quirked and he bit back a chuckle. “Professional incompetence?” he enquired.
“He wanted a tiger for Christmas, he got a Pygmy Puff. It was a disaster. But back to the jam.”
Harry shrugged bemusedly and sat down. Apparently this was going to be a long story.
“It’s probably not escaped your notice that Draco is a unique sort of individual. As it turns out, he has a certain…quirk.”
“A certain quirk?”
“My apologies. Let me rephrase. Of the several, somewhat disturbing quirks our young Draco possesses, the foremost is his tendency to - brace yourself, Potter- make jam when he is upset.”
Harry stared for a whole ten seconds before responding.
“He makes jam when he’s upset?” he repeated slowly. Honestly, were all Slytherins completely mental? Blaise’s nod confirmed this.
“What does he make when he’s happy?” Harry asked curiously. “Please say pie.”
Blaise ignored him in favour of elaborating further. “Jam generally shows up in his repertoire when he’s upset or enraged. Thank you for being such a prat to him in school, by the way. You practically ran our Annual Slytherin Bake Off.”
“You had an Annual Slytherin Bake Off?”
“My tartlets won first prize four years in a row” Blaise replied proudly “Anyway, to cut a long story short, he showed up here two days ago and he’s been in the kitchen ever since. I can’t get him out or get him to talk. So it’s bad. That’s where you come in.”
“Why ask me to help?” Harry asked warily. Zabini had always been very clear on what he thought of Harry and his on again, off again relationship with Draco. To be fair, the Italian looked like this was causing him considerable pain.
“I have…reason to believe that Draco needs you more right now” he muttered, looking like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Plus, I suppose I can admit that…you do seem to care about him. Your hair’s still atrocious though.”
“Thanks Zabini. Am I blushing?”
“Just fix him, Potter. If I have to look at another apple, I am going to be permanently reassigned to the Janus Thickey ward.”
And with that he walked off, closing the door behind him with a loud click, leaving Harry to deal with this new situation.
****
Harry trudged across the hall and poked his head cautiously in the kitchen.
Okay, so maybe Blaise wasn’t completely round the twist.
Harry swallowed.
He doubted if he had ever seen so many apples. And that included apple orchards. Red apples, green apples, shiny apples, peeled apples…they stretched as far as the eye could see. They buried countertops, piled over shelves and rolled over floors.
And the jars…Harry spotted scores of shiny glass jars, liberally filled with fresh jam (apple, he suspected) proudly lining the shelves and counters. The smell was intoxicating- warm and sweet- and he was reminded of Sundays at Privet Drive when Aunt Petunia dedicated herself to making enough dessert to feed a small country for her ickle Duddykins.
That was definitely not Aunt Petunia in the kitchen though.
Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of all the chaos, his slender frame leaning against a counter as he mouthed recipes from a cookbook. He was frowning and his lips moved as he read. Harry occasionally caught words like ‘sugar’ and ‘stir’ and he was fairly certain that none of those words should sound even remotely sexy. Nor should any man clad in a white shirt, denims and a simple black apron look that fucking amazing. Particularly with jam smeared across his cheek. The Slytherin went back to stirring his concoction and he spooned some out for a taste. Harry’s eyes darkened as full, soft lips wrapped around the spoon and the blond’s pink tongue flicked at his lower lip. Apparently the mixture did not pass muster, because Draco frowned and threw in some more sugar. Harry’s mouth watered and he doubted that it had anything to do with the jam.
He took a cautious step into the kitchen, accidentally kicking an apple in the process. The sudden movement startled Draco and he looked up at Harry with wide, grey eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, stiffening at once. Almost at once, Harry noted the slight hunch of his shoulders and the tell-tale red rims around his pupils. Fuck, he’d been crying. Harry’s heart clenched unexpectedly. Was he that upset?
“Hello to you too” he replied neutrally, resisting the impulse to sweep Draco up and hold him until he felt better. He suspected the blond wouldn’t react well to coddling right now. He would have to draw him out. And that would require patience.
Draco’s eyes narrowed in a not so welcoming way, but he lost the defensive posture and went back to stirring his mixture and pointedly ignoring Harry.
The Gryffindor slipped into a chair, content to just watch Draco intently until he decided to break the tense silence himself. He didn’t have to wait long. Draco couldn’t stand tension.
“I’m making jam” he mumbled, peeling an apple. He looked somewhat uncomfortable by Harry’s direct scrutiny and a light blush tinted his cheeks, hinting at embarrassment. It was cute really, and Harry fought the urge to coo at him.
“I see that” he answered, eyeing the scores of apples with amusement. “So, who’s coming to tea? Manchester?”
Draco scowled and turned away to viciously stir his syrup, effectively dismissing Harry. The brunet chuckled in response, getting up and idly opening a fresh jar. Draco spotted him, let out a cry of indignation and snatched it back at once.
“My jam!” he snapped, clutching the jar protectively. Harry was vaguely reminded of a mother lioness.
“You’re sure you can’t spare some?” he asked amusedly, eyeing the stacks and stacks of jars. Draco could have spared enough for India and still have some left over.
“No” the blonde snipped petulantly “I need all of it. You can damn well make your own.” He turned his back against Harry and the Gryffindor took the opportunity to creep up behind him, so that he was as close as possible to the unaware blond without actually touching him.
“You know” he whispered, his smile widening as Draco squeaked in alarm and backed into him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He neatly snagged the spoon from Draco’s hands.
“Hey!” the blond protested, trying to grab it back. Harry was too quick though, and manoeuvred them so that Draco was pressed against his front, trapped between him and the simmering stove. His back pressed into Harry’s taller frame as the Gryffindor held him captive, rendering him incapable of moving away. Apparently, Draco didn’t appreciate being manhandled like that because he started squirming. Harry suppressed a growl in his throat as Draco’s arse rubbed deliciously against his groin, and he snaked his arm around the other’s waist and squeezed lightly.
“Behave” he whispered, flicking his tongue across the shell of Draco’s ear. The blond gasped but stilled at once. Harry rewarded him with another light squeeze and went about stirring the syrup now and then, as if this was a perfectly routine activity. He kept his arm firmly around the blond’s waist, smiling slightly as Draco reluctantly relaxed, leaning against his chest. Harry grew bolder and slipped a hand under his thin shirt, rubbing his thumb against the blond’s abdomen. Draco started squirming again and Harry whacked his thigh with the spoon, eliciting another squeak of protest.
“I told you to behave, didn’t I?” he purred, resuming his titillating ministrations.
“Me?” Draco sputtered indignantly, even as he arched into Harry’s calloused fingers “You’re the one invading my personal space!”
“I like your personal space” Harry chuckled, dipping his head and swiping his tongue across Draco’s jam smeared cheek “Tastes like apples”
“Stop it” Draco whined, trying and failing to sound firm “I’m trying to…to make jam.”
“Me too” Harry insisted, even as he kissed a merciless trail up Draco’s neck “Now stop fidgeting and make yourself useful. Is this done yet?” He brought the spoon to Draco’s mouth, smiling when the boy obediently parted his lips. His tongue flicked out again and Harry’s hold on the cute blond tightened reflexively.
“Good?” he asked, his voice an octave lower.
“T-ten more minutes” Draco whispered breathlessly.
“Whatever shall we do to pass the time?” Harry wondered aloud, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder “Any suggestions?” As he spoke, he undid the knot of Draco’s apron and peeled it off his waist, discarding it easily. Draco shivered and pushed against his groin.
Harry chuckled. “In the kitchen? What will the neighbours think?”
“Don’t care” Draco whined, arching his back in protest.
“Remind me to tell Zabini about this in graphic detail” Harry muttered as he turned Draco around and backed him into a counter as he did.
“Up” he ordered shortly. Draco’s grey eyes darkened as he hopped up on the counter- displacing several apples in the process- and allowed Harry to divest him of his shirt and jeans. By the time Harry was done he was completely nude and spread on his back against the counter, with the dark haired man looming over him. The Gryffindor surveyed him with such proprietary lust, that Draco shivered. Green eyes glinted possessively as Harry caressed his jaw. “Beautiful” he whispered reverently.
“Harry?” Draco murmured, not even sure what he was asking for. All he knew was that he wanted…he needed…
“Relax” Harry replied, tracing his lips tenderly. “I’ve got you.”
Startled, grey eyes gazed up at Harry, stark in their vulnerability and the Gryffindor couldn’t take it anymore. He crushed his mouth urgently against Draco’s, and moaned in pleasure. Fuck, but he tasted fantastic. The sweet, slightly tart flavours of apple assaulted his senses at once, mingled with something that was uniquely Draco. It was intoxicating. The blond moved hesitantly under him, taking his time to respond to the other’s insistent attentions. Harry was determined to rectify that.
His gaze immediately landed on an unobtrusive looking jam jar and he grinned, swiping it up triumphantly. Draco’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as Harry scooped up a dollop of jam on his fingers. “Why…what are you…Potter, don’t you dare!”
His protests fell on deaf ears as Harry smeared his straining prick. Draco gasped as the warm, sticky substance engulfed his cock and he arched without restraint, still muttering curses at Harry.
“I’m all sticky, you prat!” he complained.
“I guess I’ll just have to lick you clean then” the dark haired boy purred. Draco’s eyes widened, but he made no further protests. His hips canted in invitation and Harry grinned, descending at once.
If Harry had been concerned about the neighbours hearing them before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Draco’s response to a blow job was…enthusiastic to say the least. The blond moaned with abandon and bucked so much that Harry had to splay a hand over his stomach to keep him steady. He continued to lave Draco’s delicious prick with his tongue and lips, pausing to suckle at the head ever so slightly before licking a trail down the shaft.
Draco’ responded with moans of appreciation and an enticing jolt of the hips every now and then. At a particularly demanding mewl from the blond, Harry lifted his leg and draped it over his shoulder. His slick, questing fingers found Draco’s entrance easily enough, and Draco bucked again.
“Harry…now…” he managed to gasp. Harry was only to happy to oblige. In one fluid motion, he took Draco’s cock completely into his throat and breached him with his fingers. Draco howled like a cat and writhed under him sinuously and Harry nearly came undone. He stretched Draco thoroughly, still deep-throating him until the blond was barely capable of coherent speech.
“In…inside…n-now…”
Harry released him with a pop and fumbled with his own trousers, cursing as Draco took advantage of his momentary freedom and got on all fours, his arse and stretched hole completely on display.
“Fucking hell” Harry gritted, finally, finally yanking his damn pants off and scrambling on to the counter.
“Now Harry! Now!” Draco panted, pushing needily against him. Harry cursed a blue streak, before launching himself at Draco, aligning his throbbing cock to his enticing, fluttering entrance and thrusting. Draco mewled but Harry couldn’t stop now, not for anything.
He pistoned his hips urgently, pushing and thrusting and revelling in Draco’s warm, silky heat and his urgent, throaty moans. The blond thrust and arched and mewled and Harry wrapped an urgent hand around his cock, wanking him off. It was hot and sticky and messy and ridiculously cramped on the counter, surrounded by apples of all things and Harry couldn’t think of anything, anything except how fucking fantastic Draco felt and how he was so fucking tight and how he just wanted to ram into him, harder and harder and…
“There!” Draco howled under him, bucking and arching like a stallion “Right there, Harry! I’m…I’m…Harry, I’m going to…”
Harry pumped harder and faster, angling himself just so and Draco howled again, bucking and jerking and moaning until he was spurting and coming in Harry’s hands and over the counter. He nearly collapsed, a limp, quivering mess but Harry was having none of it. He growled and thrust again, holding the sated blond up as he ravaged him again and again. His own orgasm hit like a tidal wave, and Harry threw his head back, practically gasping for air as he thrust into Draco over and over until he too, collapsed.
****
Harry wasn’t sure at what point he landed on top of Draco, or how long they lay practically comatose on the counter, but eventually they stirred.
“Fucking apples” Draco muttered, dislodging at least three of them from under him. Harry could only respond with a weak chuckle and kissed his lover’s back languidly. Draco was warm and soft and pliant below him, and Harry wondered if he would ever want to get up again. But Draco was stirring below him and Harry obliged by getting up. His eyebrows rose as the blond curled against him, burying his face in Harry’s neck and sighing softly. Draco was seldom this vulnerable, and Harry felt a sudden urge to protect and shelter him.
“What’s got you so upset?” he asked softly.
“Who said anything about being upset?” Draco demanded, even as he nuzzled against Harry. The Gryffindor tightened his hold around the slender blond, pulling him closer.
“Well, you did make enough jam to feed a small army” Harry quipped, ruffling his hair fondly “That’s not like you. You’re more the sort to …sue Santa Claus or something.”
“I’m going to kill Blaise” Draco muttered mutinously “And I was five.”
“Well you’re all grown up now. So why don’t we just talk about what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing” Draco hedged, squirming in his arms again. Harry let out an irritated huff and shook the tetchy blond gently.
“You can tell me. Or we can just go on making jam and shagging on Zabini’s kitchen counter for the rest of our lives.”
“Is that a threat or a promise, Potter?” Draco retorted with a chuckle. Harry found himself laughing as well. It was definitely one of his more bizarre moments- laughing and joking with a nude Draco Malfoy on a kitchen counter in a sea of apples. But Harry found he didn’t mind- especially if Draco continued to smile like that. They subsided soon enough and Draco relaxed against him- looking content and at ease. Harry remained quietly at his side, providing silent comfort and letting Draco set the tone.
“I had a talk with Father” he said, finally breaking the silence. “It....didn’t go so well”
Ah, the plot thickens. Harry squeezed his waist comfortingly. “Did you tell him you were gay?” he asked softly.
Draco nodded miserably and Harry’s hold tightened. “He’ll come around, you know” he said, stroking Draco’s hair carefully. “He’s your father.”
“He said I couldn’t come home” Draco said dully. But he had started trembling almost imperceptibly in Harry’s arms.
Harry held on carefully. “He doesn’t mean that” he said finally.
Draco sniffed and buried his face in Harry’s neck. The Gryffindor pulled him closer- if such a thing was even possible- and stroked his hair gently.
“Hey, it’s okay” he whispered soothingly, pressing soft, careful kisses to the blond hair at his disposal. “You did the right thing. The brave thing. And he knows that. He’ll come around one day, Draco. I promise.”
“I can’t go home” Draco whimpered in his arms. “I-I’m alone, Harry.”
“No, you’re not” Harry replied, prying Draco off gently so he could look at him. The blond resisted as much as he could before ultimately allowing Harry to cradle his face and gently wipe his tears. “You’ve got me” Harry smiled “And much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got that prat Zabini too.”
Draco smirked weakly. “I think he wants his kitchen back.”
“It’s…possible.”
Draco smirked and lay his head back down on Harry’s shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, and Harry was struck by how…right it felt. This. Here. With Draco. Why had they decided to take things slow anyway? He’d been seeing Draco on and off for a year now, and yet the only time he was really truly happy was when he was with him, holding him, laughing with him or even arguing about complete nonsense. Then why was he still holding back? Why couldn’t he just take his chance at happiness?
“What am I going to do, Harry?” Draco sighed, next to him.
And that’s when Harry decided to take the chance. His heart hammered in his chest and his breathing was shallow as he turned to the one man who held his heart, who made him laugh, and who challenged him in every possible way. Here’s to happiness, he thought as Draco looked up at him questioningly. Harry cleared his throat and spoke.
“Move in with me?”
END
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,500
Characters: Draco/ Harry Blaise
Warnings: Slash- I has it.
Summary: Draco has an odd quirk. Written for hd_fluff's September prompt: apple orchard and this month's jmdc challenge: What will the neighbours think? Dedicated to appleling for being a wonderful, encouraging and thoughtful reader and friend. Plus, its all about apples and I can't resist a good pun.
Author's notes: So yeah, I'm not sure what happened here. It was supposed to be under 2,000 words and I basically turned it into this big, giant plot thing. At least its all fluffy. Hopefully, this doesnt suck too much. Enjoy, everyone! Or not. I don't know... *slumps*
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. The following was written for fun, not profit.
Harry bolted up the stairs of the small apartment complex, his heart thudding frantically. His sides ached, and he was panting but he didn’t dare stop. Zabini’s note had been short and brusque, but he had specifically mentioned the word ‘emergency’.
There wasn’t much that Zabini and Harry had in common. But what they did share (albeit grudgingly) was the last person Harry wanted to associate with the word emergency. His heart did a fair impression of the Weird Sisters’ drummer and he hurtled on.
By the time he was hammering on Zabini’s door, his panic had increased ten fold. The Italian answered, looking weary, anxious and annoyingly well dressed for nine in the morning. “Finally” he muttered, crossing his arms and glaring imperiously at Harry.
Harry ignored him, barging in and frantically looking around for anything that might qualify as an emergency. The apartment was pretentious and extravagant, but certainly not on fire and aside from the occasional bang and clatter from the kitchen he couldn’t detect any sign of a mob attack. On the downside, Draco was missing. Harry’s heart plummeted.
“Where’s Draco?” he barked, turning on the Italian. “What’s the emergency? Is he missing? Is he hurt?”
“Worse, Potter” Zabini answered, his frown darkening his aristocratic features “I fear its much, much worse.”
Harry felt his insides twist and he fought to remain calm. “What…what happened?” he croaked.
Blaise took a deep breath and turned to face him. “He’s making jam.”
Harry blinked.
Twice.
It didnt help.
“What?” he squeaked out. He had heard wrong. Of course, he had. There was no way Zabini had just said…
“Jam, Potter” the Italian repeated grimly, as he started to pace “As we speak, Draco Malfoy is in my kitchen making jam like its going out of style. My sources have confirmed that its apple flavoured. We’re doomed.”
Harry would have asked what sources reported to him from the sodding kitchen, but all his mental faculties were somewhat preoccupied with Blaise Zabini’s tragic descent into complete madness.
“Jam?” he clarified faintly. “This…this is about jam?”
Blaise shot him an exasperated look. “Potter, do come up to speed. Honestly, they just let anyone save the world these days…”
Harry only shook his head wearily. “So…you dragged me down here to your apartment on a sodding Saturday because Draco decided to play Martha Stewart?” It sounded even madder when he said it out loud…
“Obscure muggle references notwithstanding, your scepticism is understandable” Blaise sniffed “However, trust me when I say, Potter that this is a very bad thing. We’re talking life and death here.”
“That’s a matter of opinion, don’t you think?” Harry muttered.
Blaise bristled like an indignant porcupine. “Look Wonder Boy, you’ve been shacking up with Draco for a year or something. I’ve been best friends with the blighter ever since he tried to sue Santa Claus for professional incompetence. So we’re listening to old Blaise on this one, all right?”
Harry’s lips quirked and he bit back a chuckle. “Professional incompetence?” he enquired.
“He wanted a tiger for Christmas, he got a Pygmy Puff. It was a disaster. But back to the jam.”
Harry shrugged bemusedly and sat down. Apparently this was going to be a long story.
“It’s probably not escaped your notice that Draco is a unique sort of individual. As it turns out, he has a certain…quirk.”
“A certain quirk?”
“My apologies. Let me rephrase. Of the several, somewhat disturbing quirks our young Draco possesses, the foremost is his tendency to - brace yourself, Potter- make jam when he is upset.”
Harry stared for a whole ten seconds before responding.
“He makes jam when he’s upset?” he repeated slowly. Honestly, were all Slytherins completely mental? Blaise’s nod confirmed this.
“What does he make when he’s happy?” Harry asked curiously. “Please say pie.”
Blaise ignored him in favour of elaborating further. “Jam generally shows up in his repertoire when he’s upset or enraged. Thank you for being such a prat to him in school, by the way. You practically ran our Annual Slytherin Bake Off.”
“You had an Annual Slytherin Bake Off?”
“My tartlets won first prize four years in a row” Blaise replied proudly “Anyway, to cut a long story short, he showed up here two days ago and he’s been in the kitchen ever since. I can’t get him out or get him to talk. So it’s bad. That’s where you come in.”
“Why ask me to help?” Harry asked warily. Zabini had always been very clear on what he thought of Harry and his on again, off again relationship with Draco. To be fair, the Italian looked like this was causing him considerable pain.
“I have…reason to believe that Draco needs you more right now” he muttered, looking like he’d swallowed a lemon. “Plus, I suppose I can admit that…you do seem to care about him. Your hair’s still atrocious though.”
“Thanks Zabini. Am I blushing?”
“Just fix him, Potter. If I have to look at another apple, I am going to be permanently reassigned to the Janus Thickey ward.”
And with that he walked off, closing the door behind him with a loud click, leaving Harry to deal with this new situation.
****
Harry trudged across the hall and poked his head cautiously in the kitchen.
Okay, so maybe Blaise wasn’t completely round the twist.
Harry swallowed.
He doubted if he had ever seen so many apples. And that included apple orchards. Red apples, green apples, shiny apples, peeled apples…they stretched as far as the eye could see. They buried countertops, piled over shelves and rolled over floors.
And the jars…Harry spotted scores of shiny glass jars, liberally filled with fresh jam (apple, he suspected) proudly lining the shelves and counters. The smell was intoxicating- warm and sweet- and he was reminded of Sundays at Privet Drive when Aunt Petunia dedicated herself to making enough dessert to feed a small country for her ickle Duddykins.
That was definitely not Aunt Petunia in the kitchen though.
Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of all the chaos, his slender frame leaning against a counter as he mouthed recipes from a cookbook. He was frowning and his lips moved as he read. Harry occasionally caught words like ‘sugar’ and ‘stir’ and he was fairly certain that none of those words should sound even remotely sexy. Nor should any man clad in a white shirt, denims and a simple black apron look that fucking amazing. Particularly with jam smeared across his cheek. The Slytherin went back to stirring his concoction and he spooned some out for a taste. Harry’s eyes darkened as full, soft lips wrapped around the spoon and the blond’s pink tongue flicked at his lower lip. Apparently the mixture did not pass muster, because Draco frowned and threw in some more sugar. Harry’s mouth watered and he doubted that it had anything to do with the jam.
He took a cautious step into the kitchen, accidentally kicking an apple in the process. The sudden movement startled Draco and he looked up at Harry with wide, grey eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, stiffening at once. Almost at once, Harry noted the slight hunch of his shoulders and the tell-tale red rims around his pupils. Fuck, he’d been crying. Harry’s heart clenched unexpectedly. Was he that upset?
“Hello to you too” he replied neutrally, resisting the impulse to sweep Draco up and hold him until he felt better. He suspected the blond wouldn’t react well to coddling right now. He would have to draw him out. And that would require patience.
Draco’s eyes narrowed in a not so welcoming way, but he lost the defensive posture and went back to stirring his mixture and pointedly ignoring Harry.
The Gryffindor slipped into a chair, content to just watch Draco intently until he decided to break the tense silence himself. He didn’t have to wait long. Draco couldn’t stand tension.
“I’m making jam” he mumbled, peeling an apple. He looked somewhat uncomfortable by Harry’s direct scrutiny and a light blush tinted his cheeks, hinting at embarrassment. It was cute really, and Harry fought the urge to coo at him.
“I see that” he answered, eyeing the scores of apples with amusement. “So, who’s coming to tea? Manchester?”
Draco scowled and turned away to viciously stir his syrup, effectively dismissing Harry. The brunet chuckled in response, getting up and idly opening a fresh jar. Draco spotted him, let out a cry of indignation and snatched it back at once.
“My jam!” he snapped, clutching the jar protectively. Harry was vaguely reminded of a mother lioness.
“You’re sure you can’t spare some?” he asked amusedly, eyeing the stacks and stacks of jars. Draco could have spared enough for India and still have some left over.
“No” the blonde snipped petulantly “I need all of it. You can damn well make your own.” He turned his back against Harry and the Gryffindor took the opportunity to creep up behind him, so that he was as close as possible to the unaware blond without actually touching him.
“You know” he whispered, his smile widening as Draco squeaked in alarm and backed into him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He neatly snagged the spoon from Draco’s hands.
“Hey!” the blond protested, trying to grab it back. Harry was too quick though, and manoeuvred them so that Draco was pressed against his front, trapped between him and the simmering stove. His back pressed into Harry’s taller frame as the Gryffindor held him captive, rendering him incapable of moving away. Apparently, Draco didn’t appreciate being manhandled like that because he started squirming. Harry suppressed a growl in his throat as Draco’s arse rubbed deliciously against his groin, and he snaked his arm around the other’s waist and squeezed lightly.
“Behave” he whispered, flicking his tongue across the shell of Draco’s ear. The blond gasped but stilled at once. Harry rewarded him with another light squeeze and went about stirring the syrup now and then, as if this was a perfectly routine activity. He kept his arm firmly around the blond’s waist, smiling slightly as Draco reluctantly relaxed, leaning against his chest. Harry grew bolder and slipped a hand under his thin shirt, rubbing his thumb against the blond’s abdomen. Draco started squirming again and Harry whacked his thigh with the spoon, eliciting another squeak of protest.
“I told you to behave, didn’t I?” he purred, resuming his titillating ministrations.
“Me?” Draco sputtered indignantly, even as he arched into Harry’s calloused fingers “You’re the one invading my personal space!”
“I like your personal space” Harry chuckled, dipping his head and swiping his tongue across Draco’s jam smeared cheek “Tastes like apples”
“Stop it” Draco whined, trying and failing to sound firm “I’m trying to…to make jam.”
“Me too” Harry insisted, even as he kissed a merciless trail up Draco’s neck “Now stop fidgeting and make yourself useful. Is this done yet?” He brought the spoon to Draco’s mouth, smiling when the boy obediently parted his lips. His tongue flicked out again and Harry’s hold on the cute blond tightened reflexively.
“Good?” he asked, his voice an octave lower.
“T-ten more minutes” Draco whispered breathlessly.
“Whatever shall we do to pass the time?” Harry wondered aloud, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder “Any suggestions?” As he spoke, he undid the knot of Draco’s apron and peeled it off his waist, discarding it easily. Draco shivered and pushed against his groin.
Harry chuckled. “In the kitchen? What will the neighbours think?”
“Don’t care” Draco whined, arching his back in protest.
“Remind me to tell Zabini about this in graphic detail” Harry muttered as he turned Draco around and backed him into a counter as he did.
“Up” he ordered shortly. Draco’s grey eyes darkened as he hopped up on the counter- displacing several apples in the process- and allowed Harry to divest him of his shirt and jeans. By the time Harry was done he was completely nude and spread on his back against the counter, with the dark haired man looming over him. The Gryffindor surveyed him with such proprietary lust, that Draco shivered. Green eyes glinted possessively as Harry caressed his jaw. “Beautiful” he whispered reverently.
“Harry?” Draco murmured, not even sure what he was asking for. All he knew was that he wanted…he needed…
“Relax” Harry replied, tracing his lips tenderly. “I’ve got you.”
Startled, grey eyes gazed up at Harry, stark in their vulnerability and the Gryffindor couldn’t take it anymore. He crushed his mouth urgently against Draco’s, and moaned in pleasure. Fuck, but he tasted fantastic. The sweet, slightly tart flavours of apple assaulted his senses at once, mingled with something that was uniquely Draco. It was intoxicating. The blond moved hesitantly under him, taking his time to respond to the other’s insistent attentions. Harry was determined to rectify that.
His gaze immediately landed on an unobtrusive looking jam jar and he grinned, swiping it up triumphantly. Draco’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as Harry scooped up a dollop of jam on his fingers. “Why…what are you…Potter, don’t you dare!”
His protests fell on deaf ears as Harry smeared his straining prick. Draco gasped as the warm, sticky substance engulfed his cock and he arched without restraint, still muttering curses at Harry.
“I’m all sticky, you prat!” he complained.
“I guess I’ll just have to lick you clean then” the dark haired boy purred. Draco’s eyes widened, but he made no further protests. His hips canted in invitation and Harry grinned, descending at once.
If Harry had been concerned about the neighbours hearing them before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Draco’s response to a blow job was…enthusiastic to say the least. The blond moaned with abandon and bucked so much that Harry had to splay a hand over his stomach to keep him steady. He continued to lave Draco’s delicious prick with his tongue and lips, pausing to suckle at the head ever so slightly before licking a trail down the shaft.
Draco’ responded with moans of appreciation and an enticing jolt of the hips every now and then. At a particularly demanding mewl from the blond, Harry lifted his leg and draped it over his shoulder. His slick, questing fingers found Draco’s entrance easily enough, and Draco bucked again.
“Harry…now…” he managed to gasp. Harry was only to happy to oblige. In one fluid motion, he took Draco’s cock completely into his throat and breached him with his fingers. Draco howled like a cat and writhed under him sinuously and Harry nearly came undone. He stretched Draco thoroughly, still deep-throating him until the blond was barely capable of coherent speech.
“In…inside…n-now…”
Harry released him with a pop and fumbled with his own trousers, cursing as Draco took advantage of his momentary freedom and got on all fours, his arse and stretched hole completely on display.
“Fucking hell” Harry gritted, finally, finally yanking his damn pants off and scrambling on to the counter.
“Now Harry! Now!” Draco panted, pushing needily against him. Harry cursed a blue streak, before launching himself at Draco, aligning his throbbing cock to his enticing, fluttering entrance and thrusting. Draco mewled but Harry couldn’t stop now, not for anything.
He pistoned his hips urgently, pushing and thrusting and revelling in Draco’s warm, silky heat and his urgent, throaty moans. The blond thrust and arched and mewled and Harry wrapped an urgent hand around his cock, wanking him off. It was hot and sticky and messy and ridiculously cramped on the counter, surrounded by apples of all things and Harry couldn’t think of anything, anything except how fucking fantastic Draco felt and how he was so fucking tight and how he just wanted to ram into him, harder and harder and…
“There!” Draco howled under him, bucking and arching like a stallion “Right there, Harry! I’m…I’m…Harry, I’m going to…”
Harry pumped harder and faster, angling himself just so and Draco howled again, bucking and jerking and moaning until he was spurting and coming in Harry’s hands and over the counter. He nearly collapsed, a limp, quivering mess but Harry was having none of it. He growled and thrust again, holding the sated blond up as he ravaged him again and again. His own orgasm hit like a tidal wave, and Harry threw his head back, practically gasping for air as he thrust into Draco over and over until he too, collapsed.
****
Harry wasn’t sure at what point he landed on top of Draco, or how long they lay practically comatose on the counter, but eventually they stirred.
“Fucking apples” Draco muttered, dislodging at least three of them from under him. Harry could only respond with a weak chuckle and kissed his lover’s back languidly. Draco was warm and soft and pliant below him, and Harry wondered if he would ever want to get up again. But Draco was stirring below him and Harry obliged by getting up. His eyebrows rose as the blond curled against him, burying his face in Harry’s neck and sighing softly. Draco was seldom this vulnerable, and Harry felt a sudden urge to protect and shelter him.
“What’s got you so upset?” he asked softly.
“Who said anything about being upset?” Draco demanded, even as he nuzzled against Harry. The Gryffindor tightened his hold around the slender blond, pulling him closer.
“Well, you did make enough jam to feed a small army” Harry quipped, ruffling his hair fondly “That’s not like you. You’re more the sort to …sue Santa Claus or something.”
“I’m going to kill Blaise” Draco muttered mutinously “And I was five.”
“Well you’re all grown up now. So why don’t we just talk about what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing” Draco hedged, squirming in his arms again. Harry let out an irritated huff and shook the tetchy blond gently.
“You can tell me. Or we can just go on making jam and shagging on Zabini’s kitchen counter for the rest of our lives.”
“Is that a threat or a promise, Potter?” Draco retorted with a chuckle. Harry found himself laughing as well. It was definitely one of his more bizarre moments- laughing and joking with a nude Draco Malfoy on a kitchen counter in a sea of apples. But Harry found he didn’t mind- especially if Draco continued to smile like that. They subsided soon enough and Draco relaxed against him- looking content and at ease. Harry remained quietly at his side, providing silent comfort and letting Draco set the tone.
“I had a talk with Father” he said, finally breaking the silence. “It....didn’t go so well”
Ah, the plot thickens. Harry squeezed his waist comfortingly. “Did you tell him you were gay?” he asked softly.
Draco nodded miserably and Harry’s hold tightened. “He’ll come around, you know” he said, stroking Draco’s hair carefully. “He’s your father.”
“He said I couldn’t come home” Draco said dully. But he had started trembling almost imperceptibly in Harry’s arms.
Harry held on carefully. “He doesn’t mean that” he said finally.
Draco sniffed and buried his face in Harry’s neck. The Gryffindor pulled him closer- if such a thing was even possible- and stroked his hair gently.
“Hey, it’s okay” he whispered soothingly, pressing soft, careful kisses to the blond hair at his disposal. “You did the right thing. The brave thing. And he knows that. He’ll come around one day, Draco. I promise.”
“I can’t go home” Draco whimpered in his arms. “I-I’m alone, Harry.”
“No, you’re not” Harry replied, prying Draco off gently so he could look at him. The blond resisted as much as he could before ultimately allowing Harry to cradle his face and gently wipe his tears. “You’ve got me” Harry smiled “And much as I hate to admit it, you’ve got that prat Zabini too.”
Draco smirked weakly. “I think he wants his kitchen back.”
“It’s…possible.”
Draco smirked and lay his head back down on Harry’s shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, and Harry was struck by how…right it felt. This. Here. With Draco. Why had they decided to take things slow anyway? He’d been seeing Draco on and off for a year now, and yet the only time he was really truly happy was when he was with him, holding him, laughing with him or even arguing about complete nonsense. Then why was he still holding back? Why couldn’t he just take his chance at happiness?
“What am I going to do, Harry?” Draco sighed, next to him.
And that’s when Harry decided to take the chance. His heart hammered in his chest and his breathing was shallow as he turned to the one man who held his heart, who made him laugh, and who challenged him in every possible way. Here’s to happiness, he thought as Draco looked up at him questioningly. Harry cleared his throat and spoke.
“Move in with me?”
END