Spring Sprint
Title: Spring Sprint Follows Winter Woes
Author/Artist: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry, Draco, Shacklebolt
Word Count: 975
Rating: PG13
Warning(s): Suggestion, UST, Harry being a wanker
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.
Written for: Birthday gift for gelsey, using the prompts quest, silk, treasure
Summary: Harry finds it difficult to concentrate on his mission.
Harry watched his partner while Malfoy pored over a fragile old piece of parchment. Malfoy pushed his specs up and swept his fringe away from his forehead. Harry clenched his jaw to quell the lustful groan that threatened to spill forth. For some reason, the sight of Malfoy wearing glasses was unbearably arousing. Harry longed to remove them and then sift his fingers through Malfoy's hair. No doubt it would feel like silk to the touch. Harry imagined how it would feel brushing his naked thighs as Malfoy went down on him, gray eyes peering up at Harry from behind his smart, sexy specs--
"...do all the work?"
Harry blinked and focused on his partner's irate expression. "Sorry?"
"I said, must I do all the work?" snapped Malfoy. "You're meant to be helping me research, not sitting there with a vacuous look on your face."
Harry scowled and returned his attention to the dusty old tome in front of him. "This is a fool's errand, and you know it," he muttered.
"It is a quest," Malfoy said archly. "We should be grateful we're no longer pounding the pavement on foot patrols."
"There's something else I'd rather be pounding," Harry said, under his breath.
Malfoy slapped a hand onto the table and glared. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"
Harry allowed himself a small smirk. He did love winding his partner up. "I'd prefer to be pounding back a pint of ale," he lied. If he admitted he was fantasizing about pounding his partner's perfect arse, Malfoy would hex his head off.
"Get pissed on your own time, Potter."
Harry made a rude gesture and resumed his reading. "It would be helpful if we had a treasure map."
"We are not searching for a treasure," said Malfoy. "We need to know if the recently discovered foundation of an old church in Essex is the final resting place of Eudora Rosenwinkle."
"What's so important about her?"
"For the love of Merlin, Potter!" cried Malfoy. "Did you sleep all through your History of Magic classes?"
"I may have dozed off a time or two."
Malfoy's frosty glare should have chilled Harry to the bone. Instead, it resulted in a heated boner. He spared a moment to wonder if that was a weird fetish of his.
"Eudora Rosenwinkle was one of the finest artisans of her age," said Malfoy. "Her creations were said to be sentient, or nearly so."
"Living jewelry, do you mean?"
"Not living, per se," Malfoy replied. "More like aware."
Harry shuddered. "That's creepy."
"It's brilliant, is what it is," said Malfoy. "All of her creations were lost or destroyed over time, but rumor has it she may have been buried with a few pieces. If we can recover them, it would be a major coup for the Ministry."
"If nothing else, it would get us back in Shacklebolt's good graces," Harry added.
~*~
They sneaked onto the site under the cover of darkness and spells. It took nearly half an hour of searching before they came across the grave, which was still in the process of being excavated.
"Watch my back," Malfoy whispered as he crept closer to inspect the slab of stone that marked the burial.
Harry would rather watch his partner's backside, but he forced himself to focus on their mission. If this was, indeed, the tomb of Eudora Rosenwinkle, the Ministry would need to plant a witch or wizard on the archaeological team in order to recover any jewels the old witch might have been buried with.
Malfoy used magic to reveal the name that was inscribed on the slab. He gasped, and Harry felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him.
"I see an E and a U!" Malfoy hissed. He aimed another spell at the stone and groaned.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked softly.
"Eulalie Rosethorn," muttered Malfoy. He sighed and sat back on his heels. "This was a bloody waste of time."
Harry dove at his partner and bore Malfoy to the ground. He clamped a hand over Malfoy's mouth. "Sh!"
Malfoy stilled, his lithe body tense beneath Harry's.
"Someone's coming," Harry breathed into Malfoy's ear. He slowly moved his hand away.
"Who is it?" whispered Malfoy.
"It may be me, if you'll just cooperate for once," said Harry. He stifled a yelp of pain as Malfoy clouted him in the head and kneed him in the ribs.
A light came on in one of the nearby tents, followed by voices.
"Shit!" spat Harry, scrambling to his feet. He and Malfoy cast Notice Me Not charms and fled the scene.
~*~
Harry stood stiffly at attention in Shacklebolt's office. Malfoy stood beside him, his posture equally rigid. Harry didn't think they were in trouble this time, but with Shacklebolt, one never knew. The Head Auror paced back and forth in front of them, brow furrowed in concentration.
"You're certain it wasn't Rosenwinkle's grave?" he asked. Again.
"Yes, Sir," said Malfoy.
"No, Sir," replied Harry.
Shacklebolt narrowed his eyes at them.
Harry cleared his throat. "That is to say, Sir, that yes, we're certain, and no, it wasn't Rosenwinkle."
Shacklebolt's shoulders drooped before he straightened once more. "And you're sure you weren't discovered by the Muggles?"
"No, Sir."
"Yes, Sir."
A muscle twitched in Shacklebolt's jaw. "You two are giving me ulcers," he growled.
"Yes, Sir," Harry and Malfoy chorused woodenly.
"Sorry, Sir," Harry offered belatedly.
Shacklebolt moved behind his desk and sat. "Get out," he snapped.
Harry and Malfoy hastened out of the office, nearly wedging themselves in the doorway in their bid to escape. Once they were out of the danger zone, they slowed their pace.
Harry dared to jostle his partner's shoulder. "So, drinks at the Leaky?"
Malfoy's nose rose higher in the air. "I'd rather sleep with a troll."
Harry brightened immediately. "I can Transfigure myself."
Author/Artist: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry, Draco, Shacklebolt
Word Count: 975
Rating: PG13
Warning(s): Suggestion, UST, Harry being a wanker
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.
Written for: Birthday gift for gelsey, using the prompts quest, silk, treasure
Summary: Harry finds it difficult to concentrate on his mission.
Harry watched his partner while Malfoy pored over a fragile old piece of parchment. Malfoy pushed his specs up and swept his fringe away from his forehead. Harry clenched his jaw to quell the lustful groan that threatened to spill forth. For some reason, the sight of Malfoy wearing glasses was unbearably arousing. Harry longed to remove them and then sift his fingers through Malfoy's hair. No doubt it would feel like silk to the touch. Harry imagined how it would feel brushing his naked thighs as Malfoy went down on him, gray eyes peering up at Harry from behind his smart, sexy specs--
"...do all the work?"
Harry blinked and focused on his partner's irate expression. "Sorry?"
"I said, must I do all the work?" snapped Malfoy. "You're meant to be helping me research, not sitting there with a vacuous look on your face."
Harry scowled and returned his attention to the dusty old tome in front of him. "This is a fool's errand, and you know it," he muttered.
"It is a quest," Malfoy said archly. "We should be grateful we're no longer pounding the pavement on foot patrols."
"There's something else I'd rather be pounding," Harry said, under his breath.
Malfoy slapped a hand onto the table and glared. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"
Harry allowed himself a small smirk. He did love winding his partner up. "I'd prefer to be pounding back a pint of ale," he lied. If he admitted he was fantasizing about pounding his partner's perfect arse, Malfoy would hex his head off.
"Get pissed on your own time, Potter."
Harry made a rude gesture and resumed his reading. "It would be helpful if we had a treasure map."
"We are not searching for a treasure," said Malfoy. "We need to know if the recently discovered foundation of an old church in Essex is the final resting place of Eudora Rosenwinkle."
"What's so important about her?"
"For the love of Merlin, Potter!" cried Malfoy. "Did you sleep all through your History of Magic classes?"
"I may have dozed off a time or two."
Malfoy's frosty glare should have chilled Harry to the bone. Instead, it resulted in a heated boner. He spared a moment to wonder if that was a weird fetish of his.
"Eudora Rosenwinkle was one of the finest artisans of her age," said Malfoy. "Her creations were said to be sentient, or nearly so."
"Living jewelry, do you mean?"
"Not living, per se," Malfoy replied. "More like aware."
Harry shuddered. "That's creepy."
"It's brilliant, is what it is," said Malfoy. "All of her creations were lost or destroyed over time, but rumor has it she may have been buried with a few pieces. If we can recover them, it would be a major coup for the Ministry."
"If nothing else, it would get us back in Shacklebolt's good graces," Harry added.
~*~
They sneaked onto the site under the cover of darkness and spells. It took nearly half an hour of searching before they came across the grave, which was still in the process of being excavated.
"Watch my back," Malfoy whispered as he crept closer to inspect the slab of stone that marked the burial.
Harry would rather watch his partner's backside, but he forced himself to focus on their mission. If this was, indeed, the tomb of Eudora Rosenwinkle, the Ministry would need to plant a witch or wizard on the archaeological team in order to recover any jewels the old witch might have been buried with.
Malfoy used magic to reveal the name that was inscribed on the slab. He gasped, and Harry felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him.
"I see an E and a U!" Malfoy hissed. He aimed another spell at the stone and groaned.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked softly.
"Eulalie Rosethorn," muttered Malfoy. He sighed and sat back on his heels. "This was a bloody waste of time."
Harry dove at his partner and bore Malfoy to the ground. He clamped a hand over Malfoy's mouth. "Sh!"
Malfoy stilled, his lithe body tense beneath Harry's.
"Someone's coming," Harry breathed into Malfoy's ear. He slowly moved his hand away.
"Who is it?" whispered Malfoy.
"It may be me, if you'll just cooperate for once," said Harry. He stifled a yelp of pain as Malfoy clouted him in the head and kneed him in the ribs.
A light came on in one of the nearby tents, followed by voices.
"Shit!" spat Harry, scrambling to his feet. He and Malfoy cast Notice Me Not charms and fled the scene.
~*~
Harry stood stiffly at attention in Shacklebolt's office. Malfoy stood beside him, his posture equally rigid. Harry didn't think they were in trouble this time, but with Shacklebolt, one never knew. The Head Auror paced back and forth in front of them, brow furrowed in concentration.
"You're certain it wasn't Rosenwinkle's grave?" he asked. Again.
"Yes, Sir," said Malfoy.
"No, Sir," replied Harry.
Shacklebolt narrowed his eyes at them.
Harry cleared his throat. "That is to say, Sir, that yes, we're certain, and no, it wasn't Rosenwinkle."
Shacklebolt's shoulders drooped before he straightened once more. "And you're sure you weren't discovered by the Muggles?"
"No, Sir."
"Yes, Sir."
A muscle twitched in Shacklebolt's jaw. "You two are giving me ulcers," he growled.
"Yes, Sir," Harry and Malfoy chorused woodenly.
"Sorry, Sir," Harry offered belatedly.
Shacklebolt moved behind his desk and sat. "Get out," he snapped.
Harry and Malfoy hastened out of the office, nearly wedging themselves in the doorway in their bid to escape. Once they were out of the danger zone, they slowed their pace.
Harry dared to jostle his partner's shoulder. "So, drinks at the Leaky?"
Malfoy's nose rose higher in the air. "I'd rather sleep with a troll."
Harry brightened immediately. "I can Transfigure myself."