HP GetLucky Fest fic: Slytherin Luck
Title: Slytherin Luck
Author/Artist: enchanted_jae
Prompt: Hermione has somehow talked Harry into being auctioned off for a date (proceeds going to her latest charity endeavor). He can't believe his bad luck when his winning bidder turns out to be Draco Malfoy, but by the end of the night, he's feeling very lucky indeed.
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry
Word Count/Art Medium: 1985
Rating: R
Warning(s) (Highlight to view): *Slytherin scheming*
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A big thanks to zeitgeistic for beta-reading this on short notice!
Summary: When Malfoy puts in the winning bid on Harry at a charity auction, Harry suspects Malfoy's motives.
Of all the rotten luck...
Harry fought to keep an affable expression on his face as Malfoy shot him a triumphant smirk from the audience. Harry had a moment to regret that he'd ever let Hermione talk him into this nonsense before he was ushered off stage.
Hermione greeted him with an exuberant hug. "That was brilliant, Harry!" she enthused. "Why, your auction alone raised more money than all of the others combined!"
"That's great, Hermione," Harry replied with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It was due to Hermione's pestering that Harry had agreed to this ridiculous bachelor auction in the first place. Had he known Draco Malfoy would bid on him and win, Harry would have fled the country. Now, however, he was stuck going on a date with the bane of his childhood. Harry couldn't fathom why Malfoy had bid on him. Perhaps Malfoy intended to poison him.
Hermione gave Harry's hand a squeeze. "Go join the other bachelors," she told him. "There are some refreshments available. I need to collect the money we raised, and then I'll send the winning bidders in to make arrangements."
Harry frowned. "Why don't you have Malfoy owl me with the particulars?"
"Honestly, Harry," scolded Hermione. "It won't take that long. Go relax and have a glass of champagne while you wait."
Hermione bustled away before Harry could argue any further. He muttered under his breath as he joined the rest of the victims in one of the large dressing rooms backstage. Harry took three normal strides into the room before an exuberant whack on the back knocked him an additional two steps forward.
"Here's our prize piece of prime beef!" crowed Charlie. He saluted Harry with a glass of champagne. "Well done, Harry!"
Harry rubbed his sore shoulder and offered Charlie a rueful grin. "You didn't do too badly yourself," he said. Indeed, Charlie had been at the center of a bidding war between two fierce female competitors.
Charlie grinned. "Best of all," he said, "I wouldn't mind getting to know my date better, if you know what I mean." He elbowed Harry in the ribs, and they shared a chuckle.
Harry snagged a flute of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip.
"Are you and Malfoy going to end your date in bed?"
Harry choked on the champagne. He wheezed as he simultaneously tried to drag air in and hack the liquid out. Charlie pounded Harry's back again in an effort to be helpful.
"Sorry about that, mate," said Charlie.
Harry waved off the apology. Charlie's question, however, was not so easy to dismiss.
♣
Harry straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and stepped into the Floo. He called out the address Malfoy had given him and tossed a pinch of powder down. Harry stepped out of the Floo at his destination and looked around in confusion. This didn't look like the foyer of a restaurant.
Malfoy appeared in an arched doorway. "Ah, Potter, there you are," he said with an easy smile. "Follow me, please."
"Where are--"
Harry's words halted as he realized he was speaking to Malfoy's retreating back. With an annoyed huff, he strode after Malfoy. Harry caught up to Malfoy in a small, informal dining room. The table was set for dinner, and the aroma of good food made Harry's mouth water. When he got his first good look at Malfoy, Harry nearly drooled--for a different reason entirely.
Malfoy looked delicious, dressed all in black with a pale gray tie that set off his eyes. Harry had always found Malfoy attractive, even though he was annoyed to be attracted to such a git. Harry had to admit that Malfoy was no longer such a git. Now that he was at the helm of the Malfoy family coffers, Malfoy had been more than generous in donating to charities and other worthy causes. Still, Harry remained suspicious of Malfoy's motives. He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. "Is this your home?"
"Yes," Malfoy replied with a pleased smile. "What do you think of it?"
"I think you could have warned me that we weren't meeting at a public venue."
"It's not too late to go to a restaurant," said Malfoy. "I'm quite certain Ms Skeeter would enjoy publishing photos of us in tomorrow's Prophet."
Harry couldn't hide his wince. "I reckon you're right about that," he conceded. "What's for dinner?"
Once they were seated at the table, a pair of house-elves in smart uniforms served the food.
"You've freed your elves," Harry commented between spoonfuls of soup.
"I freed them as soon as Father was sent to Azkaban," Malfoy said. "Growing up, our house-elves were my only companions."
Harry was chagrined. He'd never considered that Malfoy might have freed the elves out of the goodness of his heart. "Is that why you attended Hermione's auction for SPEW?" Harry asked.
Malfoy glanced up and grinned at him. "It's lucky for you that I did," he said.
Harry stifled an automatic snort. "Oh?"
"Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey were pooling their resources to bid on you," said Malfoy. "I shudder to think of what they had planned."
Harry did shudder at the thought. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said. "That was quite the Gryffindor gesture on your part."
"There's no need to be insulting," said Malfoy. The gleam in his eyes indicated he was teasing. "I had an ulterior motive for bidding on you, like any proper Slytherin. I have a proposition to make."
Harry's spoon clattered against his bowl. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "You only want to get in my pants!"
"Are they silk, Potter?"
Harry's rant was derailed. "Sorry?"
"Your pants," said Malfoy. "Are they made of silk?"
"Er, no."
"Then I can safely say I would not wish to be wearing them," Malfoy said. "As to my proposition, I was wondering if you would like to invest in my latest venture. I want to establish an advanced potions program for students who have recently left Hogwarts. It could be quite lucrative, and the program would benefit from the credibility of your name," Malfoy continued. "It seems that some people are still suspicious of my intentions."
Malfoy's gentle barb stung, and Harry was ashamed of himself. "I'd like to look into it first, if you don't mind," he hedged.
"Of course, Potter," said Malfoy, nodding. "I have a packet of information I can send home with you, and you may peruse it at your leisure. I appreciate the fact that you're even considering it."
Harry made an appropriate response and waited while the house-elves cleared food and dishes away and brought out the main course.
"Oh, and Potter?"
Harry looked up. "Yeah?"
"Just because I don't want to get into your pants doesn't mean I wouldn't like to get you out of them."
Harry dropped his fork.
♣
"Would you care for another drink?"
Harry dragged his eyes away from Malfoy's arse. "Sorry?"
Malfoy's lips twitched in a grin. "I asked if you'd like another drink," he repeated.
"Only if you're having one," said Harry. He and Malfoy had repaired to the living room after dinner. Harry's obligation for the auction was over now that he'd had dinner with the winning bidder, but here he was, agreeing to another drink.
"How about some Ogdens?" Malfoy suggested. "If rumor is to be believed, it's brewed with a touch of Felix Felicis to bring luck to those who drink it." He favored Harry with a sly smile. "Do you want to get lucky, Potter?"
Harry's body reacted to the naughty innuendo, and his trousers became uncomfortably tight across the groin. Rather than reply, he accepted the glass of amber liquid and took a large drink. The Ogdens went down smoothly, and Harry licked his lips.
Malfoy's eyes noted the quick flash of Harry's tongue, and he took a gulp from his own glass of alcohol. Harry was pleased at the revelation that Malfoy wasn't as unaffected as he appeared. If Malfoy planned to offer sex at some point this evening, Harry might just take him up on it. Malfoy may be a git, but he was a fine-looking one.
They settled side-by-side on the sofa, not quite touching. Harry could feel the warmth emanating from Malfoy's body, and it was acting with the alcohol to lower his inhibitions.
"Potter, if you continue to look at me like that, I may begin to fear for my virtue."
"Please, Malfoy," scoffed Harry. "You've never had a virtuous day in your life."
Rather than be insulted, Malfoy laughed. "You may be right, Potter," he said. Malfoy set his glass on an end table and turned his full attention to Harry. "Did you want to get lucky tonight, or are you afraid of compromising your own virtue?"
There were a dozen reasons Harry should say no and only one reason to say yes. That reason was trying to bore a hole through his trousers, and it was entreating Harry to agree to Malfoy's suggestion. Harry capitulated with an ultimatum.
"I want to top."
"Why should you get to top?" Malfoy demanded.
"I'm your guest."
"Host sets the ground rules."
They scowled at one another, neither willing to give in.
Finally, Malfoy said, "We'll settle this the old-fashioned way." He called for one of the house-elves and had her bring a wishbone. Malfoy instructed Harry to hold one end, while he took the other. "We'll pull on it until it breaks, and whoever ends up with the largest piece gets to top."
Harry was confused. "I thought the person who ended up with the largest piece got his wish."
Malfoy shrugged. "In this instance, it's the same thing, yeah? On the count of three. One...two...three!"
Harry and Malfoy tugged on the bone, and it snapped in half. Harry swore vehemently when he realized he was holding the smallest piece.
"Hah!" Malfoy crowed. "Take off your clothes and grab your ankles, Potter!"
♣
Harry found that clutching Malfoy's naked arse was far more pleasurable than holding his own ankles. He was currently sprawled on his back on the wide sofa while Malfoy buggered him with lusty groans of enjoyment. Harry didn't mind bottoming, but he preferred to be intimately familiar with his partner beforehand. Malfoy, however, was good at topping. Very good, as a matter of fact. Brilliant, even.
Harry moaned when Malfoy achieved the perfect angle, and his hips arched up in supplication. He tightened his grip on Malfoy's arse and held on for the ride.
Malfoy finished first, the selfish wanker. He paused only briefly to catch his breath before pulling out of Harry and sliding down his body to engulf Harry's cock in his mouth. Harry was delighted to realize that Malfoy's talents went beyond mere shagging. In moments, he was shouting his pleasure aloud and coming down Malfoy's throat.
Malfoy scooted up Harry's body again, ending up half draped over him as they relaxed on the sofa. "You enjoyed that, Potter," he said. It wasn't a question.
Harry was too well-shagged to deny it. "It's lucky for you I did," he said instead. "I think you cheated with the wishbone." Harry's eyes drooped, and he stifled a yawn.
"I didn't cheat," Malfoy stated. "I did, however, increase my luck. I am a Slytherin, after all."
Harry's eyes snapped open once more, and he turned his head to glare at Malfoy. "What do you mean, you increased your luck?"
Malfoy smirked at him. "I drank Felix Felicis this evening before you arrived."
Cross-posted to hp_getlucky
Author/Artist: enchanted_jae
Prompt: Hermione has somehow talked Harry into being auctioned off for a date (proceeds going to her latest charity endeavor). He can't believe his bad luck when his winning bidder turns out to be Draco Malfoy, but by the end of the night, he's feeling very lucky indeed.
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry
Word Count/Art Medium: 1985
Rating: R
Warning(s) (Highlight to view): *Slytherin scheming*
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A big thanks to zeitgeistic for beta-reading this on short notice!
Summary: When Malfoy puts in the winning bid on Harry at a charity auction, Harry suspects Malfoy's motives.
Of all the rotten luck...
Harry fought to keep an affable expression on his face as Malfoy shot him a triumphant smirk from the audience. Harry had a moment to regret that he'd ever let Hermione talk him into this nonsense before he was ushered off stage.
Hermione greeted him with an exuberant hug. "That was brilliant, Harry!" she enthused. "Why, your auction alone raised more money than all of the others combined!"
"That's great, Hermione," Harry replied with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It was due to Hermione's pestering that Harry had agreed to this ridiculous bachelor auction in the first place. Had he known Draco Malfoy would bid on him and win, Harry would have fled the country. Now, however, he was stuck going on a date with the bane of his childhood. Harry couldn't fathom why Malfoy had bid on him. Perhaps Malfoy intended to poison him.
Hermione gave Harry's hand a squeeze. "Go join the other bachelors," she told him. "There are some refreshments available. I need to collect the money we raised, and then I'll send the winning bidders in to make arrangements."
Harry frowned. "Why don't you have Malfoy owl me with the particulars?"
"Honestly, Harry," scolded Hermione. "It won't take that long. Go relax and have a glass of champagne while you wait."
Hermione bustled away before Harry could argue any further. He muttered under his breath as he joined the rest of the victims in one of the large dressing rooms backstage. Harry took three normal strides into the room before an exuberant whack on the back knocked him an additional two steps forward.
"Here's our prize piece of prime beef!" crowed Charlie. He saluted Harry with a glass of champagne. "Well done, Harry!"
Harry rubbed his sore shoulder and offered Charlie a rueful grin. "You didn't do too badly yourself," he said. Indeed, Charlie had been at the center of a bidding war between two fierce female competitors.
Charlie grinned. "Best of all," he said, "I wouldn't mind getting to know my date better, if you know what I mean." He elbowed Harry in the ribs, and they shared a chuckle.
Harry snagged a flute of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip.
"Are you and Malfoy going to end your date in bed?"
Harry choked on the champagne. He wheezed as he simultaneously tried to drag air in and hack the liquid out. Charlie pounded Harry's back again in an effort to be helpful.
"Sorry about that, mate," said Charlie.
Harry waved off the apology. Charlie's question, however, was not so easy to dismiss.
♣
Harry straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and stepped into the Floo. He called out the address Malfoy had given him and tossed a pinch of powder down. Harry stepped out of the Floo at his destination and looked around in confusion. This didn't look like the foyer of a restaurant.
Malfoy appeared in an arched doorway. "Ah, Potter, there you are," he said with an easy smile. "Follow me, please."
"Where are--"
Harry's words halted as he realized he was speaking to Malfoy's retreating back. With an annoyed huff, he strode after Malfoy. Harry caught up to Malfoy in a small, informal dining room. The table was set for dinner, and the aroma of good food made Harry's mouth water. When he got his first good look at Malfoy, Harry nearly drooled--for a different reason entirely.
Malfoy looked delicious, dressed all in black with a pale gray tie that set off his eyes. Harry had always found Malfoy attractive, even though he was annoyed to be attracted to such a git. Harry had to admit that Malfoy was no longer such a git. Now that he was at the helm of the Malfoy family coffers, Malfoy had been more than generous in donating to charities and other worthy causes. Still, Harry remained suspicious of Malfoy's motives. He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. "Is this your home?"
"Yes," Malfoy replied with a pleased smile. "What do you think of it?"
"I think you could have warned me that we weren't meeting at a public venue."
"It's not too late to go to a restaurant," said Malfoy. "I'm quite certain Ms Skeeter would enjoy publishing photos of us in tomorrow's Prophet."
Harry couldn't hide his wince. "I reckon you're right about that," he conceded. "What's for dinner?"
Once they were seated at the table, a pair of house-elves in smart uniforms served the food.
"You've freed your elves," Harry commented between spoonfuls of soup.
"I freed them as soon as Father was sent to Azkaban," Malfoy said. "Growing up, our house-elves were my only companions."
Harry was chagrined. He'd never considered that Malfoy might have freed the elves out of the goodness of his heart. "Is that why you attended Hermione's auction for SPEW?" Harry asked.
Malfoy glanced up and grinned at him. "It's lucky for you that I did," he said.
Harry stifled an automatic snort. "Oh?"
"Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey were pooling their resources to bid on you," said Malfoy. "I shudder to think of what they had planned."
Harry did shudder at the thought. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said. "That was quite the Gryffindor gesture on your part."
"There's no need to be insulting," said Malfoy. The gleam in his eyes indicated he was teasing. "I had an ulterior motive for bidding on you, like any proper Slytherin. I have a proposition to make."
Harry's spoon clattered against his bowl. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "You only want to get in my pants!"
"Are they silk, Potter?"
Harry's rant was derailed. "Sorry?"
"Your pants," said Malfoy. "Are they made of silk?"
"Er, no."
"Then I can safely say I would not wish to be wearing them," Malfoy said. "As to my proposition, I was wondering if you would like to invest in my latest venture. I want to establish an advanced potions program for students who have recently left Hogwarts. It could be quite lucrative, and the program would benefit from the credibility of your name," Malfoy continued. "It seems that some people are still suspicious of my intentions."
Malfoy's gentle barb stung, and Harry was ashamed of himself. "I'd like to look into it first, if you don't mind," he hedged.
"Of course, Potter," said Malfoy, nodding. "I have a packet of information I can send home with you, and you may peruse it at your leisure. I appreciate the fact that you're even considering it."
Harry made an appropriate response and waited while the house-elves cleared food and dishes away and brought out the main course.
"Oh, and Potter?"
Harry looked up. "Yeah?"
"Just because I don't want to get into your pants doesn't mean I wouldn't like to get you out of them."
Harry dropped his fork.
♣
"Would you care for another drink?"
Harry dragged his eyes away from Malfoy's arse. "Sorry?"
Malfoy's lips twitched in a grin. "I asked if you'd like another drink," he repeated.
"Only if you're having one," said Harry. He and Malfoy had repaired to the living room after dinner. Harry's obligation for the auction was over now that he'd had dinner with the winning bidder, but here he was, agreeing to another drink.
"How about some Ogdens?" Malfoy suggested. "If rumor is to be believed, it's brewed with a touch of Felix Felicis to bring luck to those who drink it." He favored Harry with a sly smile. "Do you want to get lucky, Potter?"
Harry's body reacted to the naughty innuendo, and his trousers became uncomfortably tight across the groin. Rather than reply, he accepted the glass of amber liquid and took a large drink. The Ogdens went down smoothly, and Harry licked his lips.
Malfoy's eyes noted the quick flash of Harry's tongue, and he took a gulp from his own glass of alcohol. Harry was pleased at the revelation that Malfoy wasn't as unaffected as he appeared. If Malfoy planned to offer sex at some point this evening, Harry might just take him up on it. Malfoy may be a git, but he was a fine-looking one.
They settled side-by-side on the sofa, not quite touching. Harry could feel the warmth emanating from Malfoy's body, and it was acting with the alcohol to lower his inhibitions.
"Potter, if you continue to look at me like that, I may begin to fear for my virtue."
"Please, Malfoy," scoffed Harry. "You've never had a virtuous day in your life."
Rather than be insulted, Malfoy laughed. "You may be right, Potter," he said. Malfoy set his glass on an end table and turned his full attention to Harry. "Did you want to get lucky tonight, or are you afraid of compromising your own virtue?"
There were a dozen reasons Harry should say no and only one reason to say yes. That reason was trying to bore a hole through his trousers, and it was entreating Harry to agree to Malfoy's suggestion. Harry capitulated with an ultimatum.
"I want to top."
"Why should you get to top?" Malfoy demanded.
"I'm your guest."
"Host sets the ground rules."
They scowled at one another, neither willing to give in.
Finally, Malfoy said, "We'll settle this the old-fashioned way." He called for one of the house-elves and had her bring a wishbone. Malfoy instructed Harry to hold one end, while he took the other. "We'll pull on it until it breaks, and whoever ends up with the largest piece gets to top."
Harry was confused. "I thought the person who ended up with the largest piece got his wish."
Malfoy shrugged. "In this instance, it's the same thing, yeah? On the count of three. One...two...three!"
Harry and Malfoy tugged on the bone, and it snapped in half. Harry swore vehemently when he realized he was holding the smallest piece.
"Hah!" Malfoy crowed. "Take off your clothes and grab your ankles, Potter!"
♣
Harry found that clutching Malfoy's naked arse was far more pleasurable than holding his own ankles. He was currently sprawled on his back on the wide sofa while Malfoy buggered him with lusty groans of enjoyment. Harry didn't mind bottoming, but he preferred to be intimately familiar with his partner beforehand. Malfoy, however, was good at topping. Very good, as a matter of fact. Brilliant, even.
Harry moaned when Malfoy achieved the perfect angle, and his hips arched up in supplication. He tightened his grip on Malfoy's arse and held on for the ride.
Malfoy finished first, the selfish wanker. He paused only briefly to catch his breath before pulling out of Harry and sliding down his body to engulf Harry's cock in his mouth. Harry was delighted to realize that Malfoy's talents went beyond mere shagging. In moments, he was shouting his pleasure aloud and coming down Malfoy's throat.
Malfoy scooted up Harry's body again, ending up half draped over him as they relaxed on the sofa. "You enjoyed that, Potter," he said. It wasn't a question.
Harry was too well-shagged to deny it. "It's lucky for you I did," he said instead. "I think you cheated with the wishbone." Harry's eyes drooped, and he stifled a yawn.
"I didn't cheat," Malfoy stated. "I did, however, increase my luck. I am a Slytherin, after all."
Harry's eyes snapped open once more, and he turned his head to glare at Malfoy. "What do you mean, you increased your luck?"
Malfoy smirked at him. "I drank Felix Felicis this evening before you arrived."
Cross-posted to hp_getlucky