Harry Throws a Hissy Fit
Title: Harry Throws a Hissy Fit
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,000 (approx.)
Summary: Harry has always been at odds with his room mate being an...escort. But this is the last straw! The slightly angsty prequel Someday has also been posted.
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, or the characters in it. The following was written purely for fun, not profit.
Harry felt the bile surge in his throat. Deep breaths, he told himself firmly. Another screaming match was hardly going to solve anything. The situation needed to be handled...delicately. Sensitivity and diplomacy. Tact. Yes, that was the word. What he needed was tact.
"Another night of whoring, Malfoy?"
Ok, so he needed to work on his tact.
His flatmate of two years, turned to cast him a weary look before returning to preening in front of his own reflection. Harry's gaze followed him. The blond was wearing a black blazer, white shirt and jeans that were just a tad too snug around his slender hips. He looked amazing. His pale bare feet contrasted sharply with the red carpet in the room. He was still half way through getting ready, Harry realized. Ready for some stranger with a wallet full of cash, the brunet noted bitterly. The bile returned with a vengeance.
"Who is it this time?" he prodded "Stock broker? Someone from Daddy's yacht club? Or perhaps..."
"Careful, Potter," Draco said finally. It was soft, almost a hiss, and Harry felt the rest of his insults fizzle out. That last one went a tad too far, he realized. Malfoy did not talk about his father.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, ashamed. "I crossed a line, there"
"Yes, you did," Malfoy agreed, turning to look at him. His grey eyes scrutinized Harry quietly. There was no malice, just a questioning glance. As if Harry were a particularly difficult Arithmancy question. "Why does it bother you?" he asked finally
"What?" Harry grumbled "You being a call boy?"
Malfoy managed a ghost of a smirk. "Escort, Potter" He continued before the other could argue that they were practically the same thing. "In my defence, I did tell you what I did before I moved in here. You said you didn't mind as long as I paid my half of the rent. What's changed?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the mantle, cocking his head in that infuriating cat like manner of his.
"I didn't... know you back then," Harry replied uncomfortably. He had almost said loved and he knew it. Thankfully, Malfoy didn't. The boy merely shook his head.
"You think you need to save me now that we're sort of friends?"
Sort of friends. Not what Harry had been going for, honestly. In the two years that he had been sharing his home with Draco Malfoy, the malice that he had once felt towards the blond had ebbed. It took the War to bring it about, but Malfoy had started growing on him. The blond had changed too for his part. Stripped off his arrogance and the pressures of the Malfoy name, he had emerged as a quiet, intelligent young man, with a passion for art. So much so that he had actually taken up Muggle Studies during his last year at Hogwarts to push for a Wizard University scholarship. Harry glanced at some of his sketches, littering the flat. Unfortunately, the scholarship didn't cover all his expenses, and hence this...escort thing had come about. Malfoy joked that his tastes were far too expensive to give up on so easily, but it just made Harry cringe.
"I could just give you the money, you know," he ventured. It wasn't the first time he had made the offer. Every time, he had been politely refused. And there had been a lot of times.
"I won't be able to pay you back," Malfoy replied, gently.
"Well, don't then," Harry snapped. "Keep it. Just...stop what you're doing. You're better than this."
"Apparently not," Malfoy replied with a smirk and whipped out his wand. Harry flinched instinctively and Malfoy rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'paranoid'. He accioed a pair of loafers and pulled them on, praying all the while that Potter would let it go.
Yeah, sure.
"Malfoy..."
"Look, let's go over it one more time, so you feel better yeah? People pay me for my time, not my body. The sex, if any is optional. In other words, only when I want it and I make enough money to support myself and school. I'm completely safe, I get to paint, I get to pay my bills…is that really so terrible?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "If that's the case and it's all so optional, how come you don't refuse any of your...clients?" he demanded
Malfoy seemed to hesitate. "Look, it doesn't pay well to refuse clients if you want repeat business, does it? This is a job, Potter. That's all. And if it makes you that uncomfortable, I'll find another place. Just tell me..."
Just then the door flung open and Blaise Zabini sauntered in, looking every bit as if he owned the place. "Another lover's quarrel?" he enquired, settling on a nearby couch.
"I wish," Harry muttered to himself, only realizing that he had been audible when Malfoy and Zabini gave him a puzzled glance each.
"I wish," Harry continued hurriedly "that you would announce yourself before barging in like that, Zabini. It freaks me out."
"Nice save," the raven haired intruder commented "And I only came to inform Malfoy that Sergey has been at the club for an hour now. It doesn't do to keep business waiting, love."
Sergey. Perfect. Just bloody perfect. Harry took a deep breath again, catching Malfoy's warning glare.
"I'm just on my way out, Blaise," he said grabbing his wand and making for the door. "Potter, let's...talk once I get back, yeah?" Without waiting for a response, he exited leaving an annoyed Harry and rather amused Zabini behind.
As soon as he heard the door slam, Zabini let out a chuckle.
"What are you sniggering about?" Harry demanded, not feeling the need to hide his annoyance anymore. He disliked Blaise immensely. The Slytherin was a major thorn in his side. Particularly since he insisted on bringing Draco clients every now and then. Stupid pimp. Not that it would matter if he didn't. Draco seemed to be immensely popular. Just for that, he kicked at a nearby table, smirking in satisfaction when it toppled over.
"You, Potter are just about the biggest idiot I have ever had the misfortune to be associated with," Zabini answered him "No, let me finish. You are head over heels in love with my best mate. Admit it. You can't see beyond him, and yet you let him go out there and...ah, how do I put this delicately...shag other men while you sit here and mope like a bloody imbecile?"
The words washed over him and Harry saw red. No, quite literally he saw red. The whole world was dissolving in a torrent of stinging, scarlet rage as the picture of Draco pinned underneath some nameless, faceless bastard pasted itself in front of his eyes. When the world did return to focus, he was standing in his half demolished apartment, with a visibly impressed Zabini hovering somewhere on the counter top.
"Wow, You-Know-Who didn't stand a chance, did he?" he commented, alighting from his chosen spot gracefully and dusting fallen plaster from his shoulder.
"Where. Is. He?" Harry demanded, enunciating every word for emphasis.
Zabini frowned. "Potter, that probably isn't the best idea considering..." He trailed off as a wand was pointed quite prominently at his throat. "Then again, what do I know? He's atClub Veela. You know, right off Diagon Alley? Can't miss it..."
Harry removed his wand and pocketed it. "Great. Thank you. And just so you know if you ever bring Draco another client ever again, I'm going to practice every single Unforgivable known to Wizard kind on your privates."
"That's...fair"
"By the way, just how tall is this Sergey character?"
"About 6" 4. Why?"
Zabini merely shook his head as Potter swore and Apparated away.
****
"And of course, there is the yacht. She's a beauty, yes. Of course you are welcome to see her whenever you wish..."
Draco snapped back to reality as he realized the meaning of that trailed off sentence. He nursed his drink and managed a polite smile. Repeat business. "That would be," he took a swig "...fascinating."
Sergey grinned eyeing Draco's lithe frame hungrily, his eyes darkening. The blond's hand twitched and he felt for his wand discreetly. He was usually in control of the situation and his clients never got too rough, but this bloke was tall. Not to mention 200 pounds of muscle. It would be decidedly unwise to piss him off.
He managed to suppress a surge of alarm as he felt Sergey's hand on his thigh. Not good. He shifted slightly, still smiling. Sergey seemed affronted but a few obligatory questions about that yacht of his seemed to calm him down and he prattled happily, giving Draco time to space out.
Was Potter right? When he had started this escort thing, he had been sure of himself. He was detached and had managed to remain completely unaffected by his...profession. He hadn't cared what he was doing as long as he could still paint. That was the one thing he loved. Well that and Potter... Draco shook his head. Perhaps love was a strong word, but hell, the man sure could make an impression. When Draco had just moved in, he had expected the Gryffindor to be as unpleasant as possible. Instead Harry had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome. He was kind, reassuring and he felt the insane urge to protect Draco from his…job. It was a sentiment that both annoyed him and made his throat catch. Nobody had ever bothered about him like that.
Draco remembered when his half crazed, drunk excuse for a father had disowned him for being a 'pouf and a failure and a blot on the Malfoy name' etcetera etcetera, Potter had stayed up the whole night with him, watching him cry like a sodding four year old, holding him, muttering words of comfort. The next day, neither of them mentioned it and Draco was grateful. He was also aware that something very significant had happened and he couldn't look at Harry as…just his roommate anymore.
After a while, every client had started looking like the Gryffindor. That had been… disconcerting. And it had left Draco with an odd feeling of...guilt every morning. As if, somehow he was cheating. On Harry. Which was ridiculous, of course. He wasn't dating him. He could be, if he wasn't doing this...thing. The thought just made him feel worse.
Of course, he could always quit this gig. But giving it up would mean...what would it mean exactly? He'd have to find a job, he supposed. It probably wouldn't pay so well, but as long as he could still paint, what did it matter? And then there was Potter. Potter who was good and kind and made him feel safe. He smiled. He could do this. Yes, it was time to quit.
"You'll have to excuse me," he said interrupting the still blathering man, and getting up. "I just remembered a previous engagement, but perhaps some other..."
He gulped as the taller, much bigger man stood up. "Go?" he sputtered "You're not going to leave. I paid..."
"Yes, and I realize that, it's just that.."
He gripped Draco's wrist and twisted roughly, making the blond cringe. Oh, just great. "Now listen, you little..."
"Oi, you with the troll face! Unhand him this instant!"
There were a couple of crashes, and Draco was shoved out of the way and landed on the floor. He swore, getting up and rubbing his shoulder. What the hell was going on? He looked up and blinked, unable to fully register what he was seeing. That couldn't be right.
He blinked again.
No, this was actually happening. Sergey was running around bellowing, arms waving wildly and knocking over tables, chairs and screaming people in the process. Crashes and bangs ensued and cowering patrons tried to duck out of his way as he decimated everything that didn't move out of his way quick enough. And from the looks of it, he had either grown an extra head or...was that Potter? Draco shook his head again. This was not happening.
"Potter?" he repeated incredulously, trying to make himself heard over the din, not to mention Sergey.
"Hi Malfoy! Nice night, eh?" the git had the audacity to grin, still hanging on to Sergey's scalp for dear life.
"What the hell are you doing?" Draco bellowed, ducking as an ill timed swing nearly took his head off. Potter was holding on like a god damn rodeo clown. If it wasn't so ridiculously horrifying he would have laughed.
"Just thought I'd drop by...come here often?"
"Potter you idiot! Hold on a minute!" He managed to wrench his wand free from his pocket and aimed a single Stunning Hex at the still screaming Sergey. Then without giving the horrified public any more time to ask questions or click incriminating pictures, he grabbed Potter's arm and Disapparated.
****
"...in my life witnessed such an absolutely moronic display! And I was friends with Crabbe and Goyle, Potter! By the way who says things like 'unhand' anymore? And..." Draco stopped ranting as he stormed into the apartment and registered the destruction Harry's temper tantrum had caused. "Do I want to know why there's a hole in my wall?" he demanded.
"Oh that just...never mind," Harry sighed "Look I'm sorry okay? I am, I really shouldn't have come down there. It was all a big mistake. And then I saw that bastard and it just looked like he was threatening you. I couldn't just stand there and..." He trailed off, oblivious to the blond's softened gaze. "Look, I'm just...I messed up okay? Let's just forget the whole thing ever happened. Please?"
"I'm thinking of quitting"
Harry turned around, not really believing what he heard. "You...what?"
Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth uneasily. "I'm thinking of quitting this escort thing. Too much excitement. I think I'll be better off taking some odd jobs round the campus, you know. It shouldn't be too hard to..."
"Malfoy, just shut up a minute, will you?" he interrupted, ignoring the blond's glare. He challenged the scowl with a piercing stare of his own. "Why would you suddenly decide to quit?"
Draco shifted uneasily, and awkwardly slid his hand through his hair. He looked absolutely angelic, but Harry was having none of it.
"Malfoy!" he snapped "I nearly ripped a bloke's scalp off for you, so you better have an answer for me. Now tell me, damn it!"
"All right, all right!" the blond snapped back "I like you, all right? I think I fancy you, actually. Are you happy now? Does that do anything to soothe your precious ego, you pra…mmmph!"
Harry pounced like a jungle cat, effectively cutting off the blond's rant with his lips. Tan, strong hands ripped off the silk shirt to expose pale flesh. Harry wasted no time exploring said flesh, his fingers travelling across the smooth expanse.
"You mean it?" he panted, breaking away from Draco's lips and resting his forehead against the blond's. "You really mean it?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Draco demanded, before dragging the raven's head back down to recapture his lips.
Harry gasped as the blond gripped at his short, unruly hair, urging him on and pulling him in to the closest bedroom- Draco's, as it turned out- as best as he could. Harry practically growled and dragged him into the bed so quick, Draco could have sworn they apparated. The next minute he couldn't care less because Po- Harry was kissing him again. And again. And again.
"No more men, Draco," Harry growled, taking a break from ravaging that slender, ivory neck. "No more men, ever. I can't fucking deal with it."
"No more men," Draco said softly, trailing his pale fingers down Harry's side "Just you, Potter. I'm yours if you want me."
That was all the raven needed. He practically ripped the pants off of Draco, exposing more and more flesh, eyeing Draco's rapidly growing cock hungrily. Draco moaned as Harry's mouth wrapped around his growing member and he thrust wantonly as the sensations wrecked havoc on him. The next second Potter's slicked fingers were inside him and around him and…he wasn't even sure what the brunet was doing anymore, except that it felt so, so good.
"Fuck!" he moaned, as Potter twisted his fingers inside him again "Fuck fuck fuck fuck …"
"Gladly," hissed the brunet, suddenly yanking him off the bed and flipping him around. Draco had just enough coherence left to be vaguely impressed by the sudden display of brute strength and then Harry was inside him and he was beyond caring again…
****
They were woken up the next morning by an anguished cry.
"Sweet Mother of Merlin! My eyes! My EYES!"
Draco got up and just caught a glance of Blaise running out of the apartment as if hell were on his heels. He turned sleepily to his lover, who was also blinking owlishly.
"We really should fix that hole in the wall" he told Harry, stretching lazily.
"I rather like it," Harry mumbled holding his boyfriend close and closing his eyes again. "Maybe he'll learn to knock."
Draco merely chuckled and fell asleep again. Life was perfect.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,000 (approx.)
Summary: Harry has always been at odds with his room mate being an...escort. But this is the last straw! The slightly angsty prequel Someday has also been posted.
Warnings: Slash
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, or the characters in it. The following was written purely for fun, not profit.
Harry felt the bile surge in his throat. Deep breaths, he told himself firmly. Another screaming match was hardly going to solve anything. The situation needed to be handled...delicately. Sensitivity and diplomacy. Tact. Yes, that was the word. What he needed was tact.
"Another night of whoring, Malfoy?"
Ok, so he needed to work on his tact.
His flatmate of two years, turned to cast him a weary look before returning to preening in front of his own reflection. Harry's gaze followed him. The blond was wearing a black blazer, white shirt and jeans that were just a tad too snug around his slender hips. He looked amazing. His pale bare feet contrasted sharply with the red carpet in the room. He was still half way through getting ready, Harry realized. Ready for some stranger with a wallet full of cash, the brunet noted bitterly. The bile returned with a vengeance.
"Who is it this time?" he prodded "Stock broker? Someone from Daddy's yacht club? Or perhaps..."
"Careful, Potter," Draco said finally. It was soft, almost a hiss, and Harry felt the rest of his insults fizzle out. That last one went a tad too far, he realized. Malfoy did not talk about his father.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, ashamed. "I crossed a line, there"
"Yes, you did," Malfoy agreed, turning to look at him. His grey eyes scrutinized Harry quietly. There was no malice, just a questioning glance. As if Harry were a particularly difficult Arithmancy question. "Why does it bother you?" he asked finally
"What?" Harry grumbled "You being a call boy?"
Malfoy managed a ghost of a smirk. "Escort, Potter" He continued before the other could argue that they were practically the same thing. "In my defence, I did tell you what I did before I moved in here. You said you didn't mind as long as I paid my half of the rent. What's changed?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the mantle, cocking his head in that infuriating cat like manner of his.
"I didn't... know you back then," Harry replied uncomfortably. He had almost said loved and he knew it. Thankfully, Malfoy didn't. The boy merely shook his head.
"You think you need to save me now that we're sort of friends?"
Sort of friends. Not what Harry had been going for, honestly. In the two years that he had been sharing his home with Draco Malfoy, the malice that he had once felt towards the blond had ebbed. It took the War to bring it about, but Malfoy had started growing on him. The blond had changed too for his part. Stripped off his arrogance and the pressures of the Malfoy name, he had emerged as a quiet, intelligent young man, with a passion for art. So much so that he had actually taken up Muggle Studies during his last year at Hogwarts to push for a Wizard University scholarship. Harry glanced at some of his sketches, littering the flat. Unfortunately, the scholarship didn't cover all his expenses, and hence this...escort thing had come about. Malfoy joked that his tastes were far too expensive to give up on so easily, but it just made Harry cringe.
"I could just give you the money, you know," he ventured. It wasn't the first time he had made the offer. Every time, he had been politely refused. And there had been a lot of times.
"I won't be able to pay you back," Malfoy replied, gently.
"Well, don't then," Harry snapped. "Keep it. Just...stop what you're doing. You're better than this."
"Apparently not," Malfoy replied with a smirk and whipped out his wand. Harry flinched instinctively and Malfoy rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'paranoid'. He accioed a pair of loafers and pulled them on, praying all the while that Potter would let it go.
Yeah, sure.
"Malfoy..."
"Look, let's go over it one more time, so you feel better yeah? People pay me for my time, not my body. The sex, if any is optional. In other words, only when I want it and I make enough money to support myself and school. I'm completely safe, I get to paint, I get to pay my bills…is that really so terrible?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "If that's the case and it's all so optional, how come you don't refuse any of your...clients?" he demanded
Malfoy seemed to hesitate. "Look, it doesn't pay well to refuse clients if you want repeat business, does it? This is a job, Potter. That's all. And if it makes you that uncomfortable, I'll find another place. Just tell me..."
Just then the door flung open and Blaise Zabini sauntered in, looking every bit as if he owned the place. "Another lover's quarrel?" he enquired, settling on a nearby couch.
"I wish," Harry muttered to himself, only realizing that he had been audible when Malfoy and Zabini gave him a puzzled glance each.
"I wish," Harry continued hurriedly "that you would announce yourself before barging in like that, Zabini. It freaks me out."
"Nice save," the raven haired intruder commented "And I only came to inform Malfoy that Sergey has been at the club for an hour now. It doesn't do to keep business waiting, love."
Sergey. Perfect. Just bloody perfect. Harry took a deep breath again, catching Malfoy's warning glare.
"I'm just on my way out, Blaise," he said grabbing his wand and making for the door. "Potter, let's...talk once I get back, yeah?" Without waiting for a response, he exited leaving an annoyed Harry and rather amused Zabini behind.
As soon as he heard the door slam, Zabini let out a chuckle.
"What are you sniggering about?" Harry demanded, not feeling the need to hide his annoyance anymore. He disliked Blaise immensely. The Slytherin was a major thorn in his side. Particularly since he insisted on bringing Draco clients every now and then. Stupid pimp. Not that it would matter if he didn't. Draco seemed to be immensely popular. Just for that, he kicked at a nearby table, smirking in satisfaction when it toppled over.
"You, Potter are just about the biggest idiot I have ever had the misfortune to be associated with," Zabini answered him "No, let me finish. You are head over heels in love with my best mate. Admit it. You can't see beyond him, and yet you let him go out there and...ah, how do I put this delicately...shag other men while you sit here and mope like a bloody imbecile?"
The words washed over him and Harry saw red. No, quite literally he saw red. The whole world was dissolving in a torrent of stinging, scarlet rage as the picture of Draco pinned underneath some nameless, faceless bastard pasted itself in front of his eyes. When the world did return to focus, he was standing in his half demolished apartment, with a visibly impressed Zabini hovering somewhere on the counter top.
"Wow, You-Know-Who didn't stand a chance, did he?" he commented, alighting from his chosen spot gracefully and dusting fallen plaster from his shoulder.
"Where. Is. He?" Harry demanded, enunciating every word for emphasis.
Zabini frowned. "Potter, that probably isn't the best idea considering..." He trailed off as a wand was pointed quite prominently at his throat. "Then again, what do I know? He's atClub Veela. You know, right off Diagon Alley? Can't miss it..."
Harry removed his wand and pocketed it. "Great. Thank you. And just so you know if you ever bring Draco another client ever again, I'm going to practice every single Unforgivable known to Wizard kind on your privates."
"That's...fair"
"By the way, just how tall is this Sergey character?"
"About 6" 4. Why?"
Zabini merely shook his head as Potter swore and Apparated away.
****
"And of course, there is the yacht. She's a beauty, yes. Of course you are welcome to see her whenever you wish..."
Draco snapped back to reality as he realized the meaning of that trailed off sentence. He nursed his drink and managed a polite smile. Repeat business. "That would be," he took a swig "...fascinating."
Sergey grinned eyeing Draco's lithe frame hungrily, his eyes darkening. The blond's hand twitched and he felt for his wand discreetly. He was usually in control of the situation and his clients never got too rough, but this bloke was tall. Not to mention 200 pounds of muscle. It would be decidedly unwise to piss him off.
He managed to suppress a surge of alarm as he felt Sergey's hand on his thigh. Not good. He shifted slightly, still smiling. Sergey seemed affronted but a few obligatory questions about that yacht of his seemed to calm him down and he prattled happily, giving Draco time to space out.
Was Potter right? When he had started this escort thing, he had been sure of himself. He was detached and had managed to remain completely unaffected by his...profession. He hadn't cared what he was doing as long as he could still paint. That was the one thing he loved. Well that and Potter... Draco shook his head. Perhaps love was a strong word, but hell, the man sure could make an impression. When Draco had just moved in, he had expected the Gryffindor to be as unpleasant as possible. Instead Harry had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome. He was kind, reassuring and he felt the insane urge to protect Draco from his…job. It was a sentiment that both annoyed him and made his throat catch. Nobody had ever bothered about him like that.
Draco remembered when his half crazed, drunk excuse for a father had disowned him for being a 'pouf and a failure and a blot on the Malfoy name' etcetera etcetera, Potter had stayed up the whole night with him, watching him cry like a sodding four year old, holding him, muttering words of comfort. The next day, neither of them mentioned it and Draco was grateful. He was also aware that something very significant had happened and he couldn't look at Harry as…just his roommate anymore.
After a while, every client had started looking like the Gryffindor. That had been… disconcerting. And it had left Draco with an odd feeling of...guilt every morning. As if, somehow he was cheating. On Harry. Which was ridiculous, of course. He wasn't dating him. He could be, if he wasn't doing this...thing. The thought just made him feel worse.
Of course, he could always quit this gig. But giving it up would mean...what would it mean exactly? He'd have to find a job, he supposed. It probably wouldn't pay so well, but as long as he could still paint, what did it matter? And then there was Potter. Potter who was good and kind and made him feel safe. He smiled. He could do this. Yes, it was time to quit.
"You'll have to excuse me," he said interrupting the still blathering man, and getting up. "I just remembered a previous engagement, but perhaps some other..."
He gulped as the taller, much bigger man stood up. "Go?" he sputtered "You're not going to leave. I paid..."
"Yes, and I realize that, it's just that.."
He gripped Draco's wrist and twisted roughly, making the blond cringe. Oh, just great. "Now listen, you little..."
"Oi, you with the troll face! Unhand him this instant!"
There were a couple of crashes, and Draco was shoved out of the way and landed on the floor. He swore, getting up and rubbing his shoulder. What the hell was going on? He looked up and blinked, unable to fully register what he was seeing. That couldn't be right.
He blinked again.
No, this was actually happening. Sergey was running around bellowing, arms waving wildly and knocking over tables, chairs and screaming people in the process. Crashes and bangs ensued and cowering patrons tried to duck out of his way as he decimated everything that didn't move out of his way quick enough. And from the looks of it, he had either grown an extra head or...was that Potter? Draco shook his head again. This was not happening.
"Potter?" he repeated incredulously, trying to make himself heard over the din, not to mention Sergey.
"Hi Malfoy! Nice night, eh?" the git had the audacity to grin, still hanging on to Sergey's scalp for dear life.
"What the hell are you doing?" Draco bellowed, ducking as an ill timed swing nearly took his head off. Potter was holding on like a god damn rodeo clown. If it wasn't so ridiculously horrifying he would have laughed.
"Just thought I'd drop by...come here often?"
"Potter you idiot! Hold on a minute!" He managed to wrench his wand free from his pocket and aimed a single Stunning Hex at the still screaming Sergey. Then without giving the horrified public any more time to ask questions or click incriminating pictures, he grabbed Potter's arm and Disapparated.
****
"...in my life witnessed such an absolutely moronic display! And I was friends with Crabbe and Goyle, Potter! By the way who says things like 'unhand' anymore? And..." Draco stopped ranting as he stormed into the apartment and registered the destruction Harry's temper tantrum had caused. "Do I want to know why there's a hole in my wall?" he demanded.
"Oh that just...never mind," Harry sighed "Look I'm sorry okay? I am, I really shouldn't have come down there. It was all a big mistake. And then I saw that bastard and it just looked like he was threatening you. I couldn't just stand there and..." He trailed off, oblivious to the blond's softened gaze. "Look, I'm just...I messed up okay? Let's just forget the whole thing ever happened. Please?"
"I'm thinking of quitting"
Harry turned around, not really believing what he heard. "You...what?"
Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth uneasily. "I'm thinking of quitting this escort thing. Too much excitement. I think I'll be better off taking some odd jobs round the campus, you know. It shouldn't be too hard to..."
"Malfoy, just shut up a minute, will you?" he interrupted, ignoring the blond's glare. He challenged the scowl with a piercing stare of his own. "Why would you suddenly decide to quit?"
Draco shifted uneasily, and awkwardly slid his hand through his hair. He looked absolutely angelic, but Harry was having none of it.
"Malfoy!" he snapped "I nearly ripped a bloke's scalp off for you, so you better have an answer for me. Now tell me, damn it!"
"All right, all right!" the blond snapped back "I like you, all right? I think I fancy you, actually. Are you happy now? Does that do anything to soothe your precious ego, you pra…mmmph!"
Harry pounced like a jungle cat, effectively cutting off the blond's rant with his lips. Tan, strong hands ripped off the silk shirt to expose pale flesh. Harry wasted no time exploring said flesh, his fingers travelling across the smooth expanse.
"You mean it?" he panted, breaking away from Draco's lips and resting his forehead against the blond's. "You really mean it?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Draco demanded, before dragging the raven's head back down to recapture his lips.
Harry gasped as the blond gripped at his short, unruly hair, urging him on and pulling him in to the closest bedroom- Draco's, as it turned out- as best as he could. Harry practically growled and dragged him into the bed so quick, Draco could have sworn they apparated. The next minute he couldn't care less because Po- Harry was kissing him again. And again. And again.
"No more men, Draco," Harry growled, taking a break from ravaging that slender, ivory neck. "No more men, ever. I can't fucking deal with it."
"No more men," Draco said softly, trailing his pale fingers down Harry's side "Just you, Potter. I'm yours if you want me."
That was all the raven needed. He practically ripped the pants off of Draco, exposing more and more flesh, eyeing Draco's rapidly growing cock hungrily. Draco moaned as Harry's mouth wrapped around his growing member and he thrust wantonly as the sensations wrecked havoc on him. The next second Potter's slicked fingers were inside him and around him and…he wasn't even sure what the brunet was doing anymore, except that it felt so, so good.
"Fuck!" he moaned, as Potter twisted his fingers inside him again "Fuck fuck fuck fuck …"
"Gladly," hissed the brunet, suddenly yanking him off the bed and flipping him around. Draco had just enough coherence left to be vaguely impressed by the sudden display of brute strength and then Harry was inside him and he was beyond caring again…
****
They were woken up the next morning by an anguished cry.
"Sweet Mother of Merlin! My eyes! My EYES!"
Draco got up and just caught a glance of Blaise running out of the apartment as if hell were on his heels. He turned sleepily to his lover, who was also blinking owlishly.
"We really should fix that hole in the wall" he told Harry, stretching lazily.
"I rather like it," Harry mumbled holding his boyfriend close and closing his eyes again. "Maybe he'll learn to knock."
Draco merely chuckled and fell asleep again. Life was perfect.