Happy Christmas! Day 18
Art Title: Magical Mistletoe Never Fails
Story Title: Encore
Artist/Author: dysonrules
Rating: PG-13
Medium: Pencil and ballpoint pen - no time for digital
Notes: Of course I had to write a ficlet to go with this. I'll try to colour it later when I have more time (yanno, cuz that will happen).
Disclaimer: This artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Encore
“This is a Ministry function. What is he doing here?”
Harry blinked, surprised that Malfoy had actually spoken to him. He followed Malfoy’s stare to where George Weasley stood, disturbingly near to Rita Skeeter. She had been watching Harry all night, green quill poised and ready.
“George provides a lot of material to the Ministry. Probably got an invit-“ Harry’s words were cut off as he found himself suddenly slammed up against Malfoy, torso to torso, bound tightly with magical ropes. “What the-?!”
Malfoy’s grey eyes-so close to Harry’s-reflected his own surprise.
“Magical mistletoe, Harry.” George’s voice was amused. “It won’t let go until you kiss.”
Harry glanced up and saw a bundle of green leaves with white berries held by the same magical bonds, hovering over their heads. Rita Skeeter’s laugh was nearly drowned by the scratching of her pen. Harry could barely hear either over the scramble of the attending photographers as they strove to get closer.
“I’m going to kill him,” Harry muttered.
“Not if I get to him first. But that hardly helps our current situation.” Malfoy’s breath was warm on Harry’s face. He had to admit it was not unpleasant to be pressed so intimately against Malfoy. Harry had been secretly admiring the prat for months, ever since learning that Malfoy was unrepentantly gay.
“We might as well get this over with, yeah?” Harry suggested and impulsively leaned in to place a delicate peck on Malfoy’s lips. Pale brows rose and grey eyes widened, but the bonds did not loosen.
“It has to be a real kiss, Harry!” George called with a chuckle.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Malfoy muttered and then Harry’s lips were captured in a bruising kiss. Their mouths caught and held for a moment as Harry instinctively applied the proper suction, and then Malfoy’s tongue slipped through parted lips and teased Harry’s upper lip. All of the blood in Harry’s body seemed to ignite as he opened his mouth to allow Malfoy to lick his way inside. When their tongues slid together, Harry thought his bones might melt. He made an undignified sound and moved closer to Malfoy. His fingers itched to clutch at him, but he was all-too-conscious of the cameras flashing around them.
Malfoy was an aggressive kisser and once he started he showed little sign of wanting to stop, which was fine with Harry. He had not been kissed in far too long, and never like Malfoy was kissing him; he seemed to be determined to bring Harry to his knees with the best snog of his life.
With that in mind, Harry rose to the challenge, matching him lick for lick, bite for bite, and gasping breath for gasping breath. Harry lost track of time.
Someone cleared their throat loudly and Hermione’s voice said, “Harry, the bonds are gone. I think you can stop now, before you kill Ron.”
Harry reluctantly-so very reluctantly-broke the kiss. He blinked at Malfoy for a moment, feeling dazed and breathless.
Applause sounded from behind them and Harry blushed, knowing it could only be George Weasley, but it was quickly picked up and soon filled the room with noise.
Harry stepped away from Malfoy with a wave to the crowd and a sheepish grin. Malfoy bowed low in a theatrical fashion.
“Encore!” someone yelled. Harry’s gaze darted to Malfoy, who lifted a brow and quirked a smile that seemed all-too-knowing. Ron slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and bustled him off for a drink “to wash the taste out of his mouth”. Harry did not see Malfoy again for the rest of the party.
When Harry arrived home sometime later, he opened the window to admit a large eagle owl. It carried a small box with an attached roll of parchment. Once removed, Harry unrolled the message, which read: If you would care for a more private encore, the item in the box is a Portkey.
Harry opened the box to find a silver ring set with emeralds nestled on a bed of black velvet. A more private encore. It could be a set-up, of course, but after five minutes of wrestling with his conscience, Harry snatched up the ring. As he slid it upon his finger, he felt himself being carried away.
He appeared in a large room lit only with a scattering of candles on one bedside table. Draco Malfoy lay upon the bed, clad only in a dark dressing gown, falling open to expose one bare leg that was propped up. A hand beckoned lazily at Harry.
“Over here, Potter. I prefer my encores horizontal.”
Harry looked around carefully, fearing more reporters or Rita Skeeter hiding in the cupboard, but when Malfoy curved his index finger in a teasing beckoning motion, Harry walked to the bed like a cat sensing catnip.
Harry crawled onto the bed and knelt to gaze down at Malfoy, whose hand wrapped in the tie that Harry still wore. “Encore,” Harry said in a bemused tone.
“And possibly a whole new performance,” Malfoy replied and dragged him down for a kiss.
This artwork is the sole property of the artist who created it.
Please do not use it, in whole or in part, without the expressed consent of the artist.
Story Title: Encore
Artist/Author: dysonrules
Rating: PG-13
Medium: Pencil and ballpoint pen - no time for digital
Notes: Of course I had to write a ficlet to go with this. I'll try to colour it later when I have more time (yanno, cuz that will happen).
Disclaimer: This artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Encore
“This is a Ministry function. What is he doing here?”
Harry blinked, surprised that Malfoy had actually spoken to him. He followed Malfoy’s stare to where George Weasley stood, disturbingly near to Rita Skeeter. She had been watching Harry all night, green quill poised and ready.
“George provides a lot of material to the Ministry. Probably got an invit-“ Harry’s words were cut off as he found himself suddenly slammed up against Malfoy, torso to torso, bound tightly with magical ropes. “What the-?!”
Malfoy’s grey eyes-so close to Harry’s-reflected his own surprise.
“Magical mistletoe, Harry.” George’s voice was amused. “It won’t let go until you kiss.”
Harry glanced up and saw a bundle of green leaves with white berries held by the same magical bonds, hovering over their heads. Rita Skeeter’s laugh was nearly drowned by the scratching of her pen. Harry could barely hear either over the scramble of the attending photographers as they strove to get closer.
“I’m going to kill him,” Harry muttered.
“Not if I get to him first. But that hardly helps our current situation.” Malfoy’s breath was warm on Harry’s face. He had to admit it was not unpleasant to be pressed so intimately against Malfoy. Harry had been secretly admiring the prat for months, ever since learning that Malfoy was unrepentantly gay.
“We might as well get this over with, yeah?” Harry suggested and impulsively leaned in to place a delicate peck on Malfoy’s lips. Pale brows rose and grey eyes widened, but the bonds did not loosen.
“It has to be a real kiss, Harry!” George called with a chuckle.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Malfoy muttered and then Harry’s lips were captured in a bruising kiss. Their mouths caught and held for a moment as Harry instinctively applied the proper suction, and then Malfoy’s tongue slipped through parted lips and teased Harry’s upper lip. All of the blood in Harry’s body seemed to ignite as he opened his mouth to allow Malfoy to lick his way inside. When their tongues slid together, Harry thought his bones might melt. He made an undignified sound and moved closer to Malfoy. His fingers itched to clutch at him, but he was all-too-conscious of the cameras flashing around them.
Malfoy was an aggressive kisser and once he started he showed little sign of wanting to stop, which was fine with Harry. He had not been kissed in far too long, and never like Malfoy was kissing him; he seemed to be determined to bring Harry to his knees with the best snog of his life.
With that in mind, Harry rose to the challenge, matching him lick for lick, bite for bite, and gasping breath for gasping breath. Harry lost track of time.
Someone cleared their throat loudly and Hermione’s voice said, “Harry, the bonds are gone. I think you can stop now, before you kill Ron.”
Harry reluctantly-so very reluctantly-broke the kiss. He blinked at Malfoy for a moment, feeling dazed and breathless.
Applause sounded from behind them and Harry blushed, knowing it could only be George Weasley, but it was quickly picked up and soon filled the room with noise.
Harry stepped away from Malfoy with a wave to the crowd and a sheepish grin. Malfoy bowed low in a theatrical fashion.
“Encore!” someone yelled. Harry’s gaze darted to Malfoy, who lifted a brow and quirked a smile that seemed all-too-knowing. Ron slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders and bustled him off for a drink “to wash the taste out of his mouth”. Harry did not see Malfoy again for the rest of the party.
When Harry arrived home sometime later, he opened the window to admit a large eagle owl. It carried a small box with an attached roll of parchment. Once removed, Harry unrolled the message, which read: If you would care for a more private encore, the item in the box is a Portkey.
Harry opened the box to find a silver ring set with emeralds nestled on a bed of black velvet. A more private encore. It could be a set-up, of course, but after five minutes of wrestling with his conscience, Harry snatched up the ring. As he slid it upon his finger, he felt himself being carried away.
He appeared in a large room lit only with a scattering of candles on one bedside table. Draco Malfoy lay upon the bed, clad only in a dark dressing gown, falling open to expose one bare leg that was propped up. A hand beckoned lazily at Harry.
“Over here, Potter. I prefer my encores horizontal.”
Harry looked around carefully, fearing more reporters or Rita Skeeter hiding in the cupboard, but when Malfoy curved his index finger in a teasing beckoning motion, Harry walked to the bed like a cat sensing catnip.
Harry crawled onto the bed and knelt to gaze down at Malfoy, whose hand wrapped in the tie that Harry still wore. “Encore,” Harry said in a bemused tone.
“And possibly a whole new performance,” Malfoy replied and dragged him down for a kiss.
This artwork is the sole property of the artist who created it.
Please do not use it, in whole or in part, without the expressed consent of the artist.