Mr. Potter's Penguin #8
Title: Mr. Potter's Penguin #8
Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Slash
Word Count 1,400
Summary: Draco has a leetle too much eggnog .
Author's notes: Written for:
awdt's Christmas quickies: Prompt 21 unannounced guests, Prompt 22: Christmas party.dracoharry100's Christmas challenge prompt: too much eggnog
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
“Oh Gods, Harry! Yes! Oh Merlin please…please, right there!”
Harry growled and gripped Draco’s hips harder, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with the blond’s breathy moans. Draco scrabbled against the sofa for purchase, his red skirt bunched around his thighs as Harry plied him with the trust after brutal thrust. He wound one red stiletto heel around Harry’s thighs, pulling the taller man forward. Harry growled and thrust harder and Draco arched back, his eyes shut and his lips parted as he moaned and thrashed and pleaded with his boyfriend.
“Faster!” he demanded. “Faster, Harry! Please…oh Merlin, deeper! I’m going to…oh, I’m going to…”
Suddenly, a greenish glow filled the small living room as the Floo flared to life.
“Draco? Are you there, son?”
Draco paled and Harry sputtered. “Fuck,” they both whispered in horrified unison. The Floo continued to crackle and Harry reacted by abruptly uncoupling himself from his boyfriend. Draco squeaked in surprise and turned to berate the inconsiderate prick, immediately paling as the Floo flared a deeper green.
“Hide!” Harry hissed, tucking himself back in his trousers and trying to find his rumpled shirt. Draco remained frozen to the spot, staring with a horror struck look at the Floo and Harry squawked in frazzled alarm. Finally, he did what anyone in his situation would have done. He bodily hoisted up his blond boyfriend…
…and shoved him in the closet, slamming the door just in time.
He had barely buttoned up his shirt when the green fire finally morphed into a highly disapproving set of features.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Harry chirped, attempting a nonchalant grin. It came out looking like he had a stomach infection but whatever. “It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough, Potter,” Lucius drawled as his eyes swept their living room contemptuously. “Where is my son? I’m sure I heard his voice.”
“Draco?” Harry inquired innocently.
Lucius’ mouth tightened. “Exactly how many of my sons are you defiling, Potter? Yes Draco, you blundering buffoon! Where is he?”
“He’s…um…not here?”
The Malfoy patriarch’s eyes narrowed at that. “I can see that, Potter! Merlin help me, I’m trying not to murder you on sight but the least you could do is not make it so desirable! Now, for the last time, where is my…”
“You called, Father?”
Harry nearly sagged with relief as Draco emerged from the closet, wearing his finest emerald green robes, perfectly tailored to fit his elegant form. His hair was immaculate and he held himself in that stiff, aristocratic way that always took over in Lucius’ presence. The blond glided forward and inclined his head in greeting as he approached the fireplace, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulders.
To make a long story short, he certainly didn't look like someone who’d been wearing a skirt and heels less than thirty seconds ago, and Harry perfectly happy keeping it that way.
“Draco,” Lucius greeted, his eyebrow arching suspiciously. “Pardon the pun but… did you just come out of the closet?”
“Just a bit of organizing, Father,” Draco lied easily. “You know how I am about living with a mess.”
“And yet he’s still around,” Lucius drawled, eyeing Harry distastefully.
“Father, be nice to Harry,” Draco warned, placing a placating hand on Harry’s arm as the other boy scowled sulkily
“Very well,” Lucius acquiesced. “I merely called to remind you of the Annual Malfoy Christmas Ball. Be sure to attend, Draco. I certainly won’t take responsibility for your mother’s reaction should you miss one of her events for the second time this year.”
“I thought the last one was a joke!” Draco protested. “Who on earth celebrates National Fedora Day?”
“Be that as it may, you will be there for her Christmas party,” Lucius replied firmly. “For one thing, it is a proud Malfoy tradition dating back generations and it is your duty to be there.”
“And the second thing?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
Lucius scowled. “I have to go and if I’m going to suffer, everybody will. And speaking of suffering- Potter you may come as well.”
“Yay me,” Harry muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs from Draco.
“We’d be delighted to come, Father,” he drawled. “Say my hello to Mother.”
“Gladly,” Lucius smirked as his face flickered in the flames. “Oh, and a friendly word of advice, Draco- red is not your color.”
Harry gawked and Draco goggled as Lucius’ smirking face disappeared with a sharp crackle. Draco turned to his boyfriend, flushed and utterly mortified. “Do you think he…did my Father see us…?”
“I can’t say,” Harry commented, staring fixedly at Draco’s feet. “But those were probably a bit of a giveaway.
Draco looked down at his own feet and groaned at the sight of red stilettos peeking out from under his robes. “Kill me now,” he groaned, hiding in Harry’s shoulder.
“Look on the bright side,” Harry smirked, patting his head. “You can get drunk at the Christmas party.”
****
“It was only a suggestion, Draco!” Harry scolded, leading his tipsy boyfriend to a chair and seating him down gingerly. Draco favored him with a sloppy grin and swayed dangerously. Harry groaned as Draco’s glass swished and his eggnog splattered to the floor.
Festivities were in full swing at Malfoy Manor and it was safe to say that the Malfoy Christmas Ball was a rousing success. The ballroom was decked in festive green with red only making a cursory appearance here and there. A splendid Christmas tree formed the centerpiece of the room- trimmed with silver and gold and practically stacked with presents underneath. The guests were merry- or as merry as snooty purebloods allowed themselves to get, and the champagne and eggnog flowed freely.
Draco, at least had definitely had a good time. Harry, not so much. Praying for patience, he tried to pry Draco’s glass away from the teetering blond only to have his efforts rudely rebuffed.
“Ouch!” Harry hissed, pulling his fingers away. “You bit me!”
“You liked it when I bit you las’ night!” Draco argued indignantly.
“Lower your voice!” Harry hissed as a couple of guests stopped to stare at them disapprovingly. Lucius had started gnashing his teeth- definitely not a good sign.
“Itsh Chrishmash, Potter,” Draco retorted. “I’m allowed to in-indul…have a drink if I want.”
“You've had several,” Harry hissed. “And your father is giving me the stink eye.” He gave Lucius a cautious glance and winced as he found the ex Death Eater still glowering at him.
“That’sh because he doesn't like you,” Draco ‘whispered’ and nodded conspiratorially.
“Really?” Harry muttered, hoisting him up. “I hadn't noticed. Now come on, I’m taking you to bed.”
“Promise?” Draco leered, staggering against him.
“Not like that!” Harry squawked. “For Merlin’s sake, we’re at your parent’s house!”
“But I want to shag like kneazles!” Draco whined petulantly, stamping his foot.
Harry groaned as an elderly witch gasped and favoured them with a scandalized “Well, I never!” before scuttling off. He clenched his jaw determinedly and herded a still whining Draco over to the door. The blond proceeded to drag his feet like a stubborn mule and Harry was desperate enough to resort to bribery,
“I’ll shag you at home, I swear!” he hissed pleadingly. “Just come with me for the love of…Mrs. Malfoy! Lovely to see you again!"
Harry plastered on a billion galleon smile as Narcissa glided over to them, closely followed by a scowling Lucius. “Enjoying the party, Harry?” the elegant witch asked, quirking a brow at her happy son.
“It’s lovely, Ma’am,” Harry replied politely. “Draco may have…er…overdone it a bit with the eggnog.”
“Did not,” Draco whined as Lucius snorted. “Mummy, I didn't!”
“I know, Dragon,” Narcissa soothed, patting his head affectionately. “Why don’t you let Harry get you settled for bed then, hmm? And we can open up our presents later.”
“Ooh presents!” Draco’s eyes gleamed in recognition of his favorite word in the whole universe. Then he frowned and turned to his boyfriend. “Harry, my present! Where’s my prenguin pesent?”
“His what?” Narcissa enquired.
“Harry gives me a present every day. One a day ‘til Chrismash,” Draco informed them proudly. “Yesterday, I got this big, red…”
“Hey, would you look at the time! Let’s get you home!” Harry blurted, herding Draco off hurriedly before he could tell his mother about his less than appropriate list of presents.
“Watch yourself, Potter!” Lucius called after them. “I won’t have you taking advantage of my son in his condition!”
“I won’t!” Harry snapped exasperatedly.
“But you promised me we’d shag like kneazles!” Draco put in, right before a mortified Harry shoved him out the door.
Follow up: Mr. Potter's Penguin #9