Reckless
Title: Reckless
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry, Draco
Rating: R
Warning(s): Strong subject matter
Additional warning: Author is not responsible for underage readers. Mind the rating and warning(s).
Word count: 635
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for w_queen, who requested cheating!Harry, marriage/relationship crisis. Not sure this is what you were looking for, but this is what the muse came up with. Cheers!
Summary: Harry's marriage is on the rocks, and he's drinking his whiskey straight.
"What's wrong with you, Potter? You look as if someone Crucio'd your crup."
Harry didn't bother to turn his head; he'd recognize that taunting voice anywhere.
Malfoy
"Piss off," Harry grumbled before knocking back the last of his whiskey.
Malfoy summoned the bartender over and bought a bottle of the whiskey Harry was drinking. He stood up, bottle in hand. "There's an empty booth, Potter," he said. "I'm buying. You can get pissed and tell me all about it."
"I don't want to talk about it," muttered Harry.
"Then I'll do the talking," said Malfoy. "It's been awhile." He turned and headed for the booth, as if assuming Harry would follow.
Harry sneered at Malfoy's retreating back, looked at the bottom of his empty glass, then sighed and slid off of his barstool to follow. Harry took a seat across from Malfoy and held out his glass. He didn't meet Malfoy's eyes; he couldn't. The two of them had indulged in an ill-fated fling once, but that was before Harry decided he should marry the girl everyone expected him to and raise the perfect family. He hadn't counted on Ginny's Quidditch career getting in the way. Harry had been content to wait until Ginny was done playing to start a family, but as for the rest...well.
"Spill," Malfoy ordered, pouring himself three fingers of whiskey.
"Perish the thought," muttered Harry, taking another gulp of the fiery alcohol.
"Alright, I'll go first," said Malfoy. "I recently dumped my latest lover, my father still refuses to speak to me, and that Greengrass twit continues to tell everyone she and I are getting married some day." He snorted and took a drink. "Your turn," he said.
Harry rolled his glass between his palms. He hadn't wanted this to get out, but what the hell. Ginny didn't seem to care. Harry sighed. "My wife has been cheating on me," he said. The bitter taste in his mouth had nothing to do with whiskey. "She's sleeping with her coach."
Malfoy winced and topped off Harry's glass. "What are you going to do about it?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry admitted. Demanding a divorce was uppermost in his mind. There were no children to consider, which seemed a good thing in retrospect.
"Have an affair of your own," Malfoy suggested. "I imagine you'd have your pick of lovers, should you decide to pursue a fling."
Harry knew that was likely true, but the knowledge only soured him on the idea. He responded with a noncommital shrug.
"Hell, Potter, at least have a howl-the-walls-down one-off, won't you?" Malfoy goaded.
"When? Tonight?" snorted Harry.
"Why not?" asked Malfoy. He leaned back and treated Harry to one of his patented smirks. "I'll take you on, if you want."
Harry finally raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's. It was probably a mistake. He'd never been able to resist the challenge in Malfoy's gray gaze.
"Think of it, Potter," Malfoy said, lowering his voice and leaning in close. "We can tear your bed apart, come all over it, and let your wife know she doesn't have the upper hand."
Harry's cock was firmly in Malfoy's camp, and Harry recalled just how fantastic it felt when his cock was firmly embedded in Malfoy's body. Godric help him, but sex with Ginny couldn't compare. There was nothing quite like fucking Draco bloody Malfoy. Harry had consumed just enough whiskey to feel reckless. He downed the rest of his glass and thunked it onto the scarred table.
"Why not?" Harry said, echoing Malfoy's earlier challenge. He stood up and walked away, confident that Malfoy would be the one following this time.
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry, Draco
Rating: R
Warning(s): Strong subject matter
Additional warning: Author is not responsible for underage readers. Mind the rating and warning(s).
Word count: 635
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for w_queen, who requested cheating!Harry, marriage/relationship crisis. Not sure this is what you were looking for, but this is what the muse came up with. Cheers!
Summary: Harry's marriage is on the rocks, and he's drinking his whiskey straight.
"What's wrong with you, Potter? You look as if someone Crucio'd your crup."
Harry didn't bother to turn his head; he'd recognize that taunting voice anywhere.
Malfoy
"Piss off," Harry grumbled before knocking back the last of his whiskey.
Malfoy summoned the bartender over and bought a bottle of the whiskey Harry was drinking. He stood up, bottle in hand. "There's an empty booth, Potter," he said. "I'm buying. You can get pissed and tell me all about it."
"I don't want to talk about it," muttered Harry.
"Then I'll do the talking," said Malfoy. "It's been awhile." He turned and headed for the booth, as if assuming Harry would follow.
Harry sneered at Malfoy's retreating back, looked at the bottom of his empty glass, then sighed and slid off of his barstool to follow. Harry took a seat across from Malfoy and held out his glass. He didn't meet Malfoy's eyes; he couldn't. The two of them had indulged in an ill-fated fling once, but that was before Harry decided he should marry the girl everyone expected him to and raise the perfect family. He hadn't counted on Ginny's Quidditch career getting in the way. Harry had been content to wait until Ginny was done playing to start a family, but as for the rest...well.
"Spill," Malfoy ordered, pouring himself three fingers of whiskey.
"Perish the thought," muttered Harry, taking another gulp of the fiery alcohol.
"Alright, I'll go first," said Malfoy. "I recently dumped my latest lover, my father still refuses to speak to me, and that Greengrass twit continues to tell everyone she and I are getting married some day." He snorted and took a drink. "Your turn," he said.
Harry rolled his glass between his palms. He hadn't wanted this to get out, but what the hell. Ginny didn't seem to care. Harry sighed. "My wife has been cheating on me," he said. The bitter taste in his mouth had nothing to do with whiskey. "She's sleeping with her coach."
Malfoy winced and topped off Harry's glass. "What are you going to do about it?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry admitted. Demanding a divorce was uppermost in his mind. There were no children to consider, which seemed a good thing in retrospect.
"Have an affair of your own," Malfoy suggested. "I imagine you'd have your pick of lovers, should you decide to pursue a fling."
Harry knew that was likely true, but the knowledge only soured him on the idea. He responded with a noncommital shrug.
"Hell, Potter, at least have a howl-the-walls-down one-off, won't you?" Malfoy goaded.
"When? Tonight?" snorted Harry.
"Why not?" asked Malfoy. He leaned back and treated Harry to one of his patented smirks. "I'll take you on, if you want."
Harry finally raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's. It was probably a mistake. He'd never been able to resist the challenge in Malfoy's gray gaze.
"Think of it, Potter," Malfoy said, lowering his voice and leaning in close. "We can tear your bed apart, come all over it, and let your wife know she doesn't have the upper hand."
Harry's cock was firmly in Malfoy's camp, and Harry recalled just how fantastic it felt when his cock was firmly embedded in Malfoy's body. Godric help him, but sex with Ginny couldn't compare. There was nothing quite like fucking Draco bloody Malfoy. Harry had consumed just enough whiskey to feel reckless. He downed the rest of his glass and thunked it onto the scarred table.
"Why not?" Harry said, echoing Malfoy's earlier challenge. He stood up and walked away, confident that Malfoy would be the one following this time.