HP fic
Title: Green and Gold
Author - juurensha (also known as ice illuser on ff.net)
Rating - PG13
Pairing - Harry/Draco
Warnings - Slash, language
Summary - To be perfectly fair, Harry hadn't even put on the scarf. It's not until Hermione asks curiously, "Is that a Slytherin scarf, Harry?" that he even realizes he has a problem.
Disclaimer- I obviously don't own Harry Potter or else why would I be writing fanfiction?
A/N: So this is a request as a Christmas gift for jenny_halliwelco, and also my first Harry Potter fic. Personally I think Harry/Draco only works out in the lovely AU vates series by lightning on the wave, but this is Christmas fluff, and kind of AU, so it's alright. Please enjoy.
To be perfectly fair, Harry hadn't even put on the scarf. All he had done was blearily look at it (because of course Hermione would want to study at 8 am on a Saturday morning), then shove it back in his drawer because even in his half-asleep foggy state he realizes that that isn't his scarf.
It's not until Hermione asks curiously, "Is that a Slytherin scarf, Harry?" that he even realizes he has a problem.
"Um, no. No, absolutely not," he manages to stammer out, hastily slamming his drawer shut, praying that somehow Hermione was color-blind and couldn't really tell a white and green scarf apart from the sea of red and gold that is his clothes.
It seemed however, that he had used up most of his luck that year defeating Voldemort (again. Which was good, since he had managed to scare some of the dark wizarding families, including the Malfoys, onto his side, but it really really sucked when he wanted to keep certain things private).
Hermione pushed him to the side and impatiently opened up his drawer and pulled out the incriminating piece of cloth, "It really is. How did you get it?"
As Harry is frantically attempting to come up with any sort of excuse (wild hippogriff attack? Unicorn rampage? The Dursley's ironic attempt at a gift?), Ron rubs his eyes and sleepily comments, "The house elves mix up your laundry again, mate? I guess even Dobby can't keep it straight this close to the holidays, hm?"
Never was Harry so thankful in this moment for S.P.E.W. when Hermione turns in incandescent fury upon Ron, scarf completely forgotten.
"You make the house elves do your laundry?" she yells, causing the other boys in the room to pull their pillows over their heads in well-practiced self-defense.
"Well what else are we supposed to do?" Ron asks defensively, holding Quidditch Through the Ages in front of him like a shield (bad choice; Hermione didn't care about Quidditch but could never bear to harm Hogwarts: A History), "Cast cleaning spells on our clothes and hope they don't catch on fire?"
"Obviously," Hermione snaps, "I do it all the time. Stop being so lazy, Ron."
As they go through their usual morning argument ("Just because I don't want to be in the library at 8 in the morning on a Saturday, does not make me lazy!" "Who was the one who asked me to help them study for Transfiguration? Oh right, it was you!"), Harry attempts to sneakily levitate the scarf back over to him.
Unfortunately (since, like he said before, all of his luck has been used up, and it's an ungodly hour in the morning to be awake), Harry yawns midway through "Leviosa" and propels the scarf straight into Ron's face.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes as Ron pulls the scarf off his face.
It still should be okay though right? Laundry mix-ups did happen (poor Seamus had lost his favorite robes and gained a light yellow sundress), and it's not as though the scarf has his name on it-
"Wait a minute, who's DM?"
Except of course Malfoy would have his initials embroidered on every stitch of clothing he owns. That berk.
"No one. Dean Morgan," Harry babbles, tugging the scarf away from Ron and balling it up, "Remember, that Slytherin first year?"
Hermione frowns, "You mean like the actor? I don't remember any first years with that name."
Harry twitch-shrugs, striding back over to his dresser, "Well, there are a lot of first years-"
"Hang on," Ron says, frowning while shoving books into his bag, "How do you know it's this Morgan bloke's scarf you got and not Malfoy's?"
Damnit.
He attempts to laugh, shoving the scarf into his sock drawer where it doesn't stand out quite as obviously, "Are you kidding me? Malfoy would have his family crest on it. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper, and all that."
Hermione gives him an odd look, "Why do you know the Malfoy family motto?"
This is just not his day.
"I was memorizing them to try and schmooze with the Dark families," Harry quickly replies, thankful for the truth, "Besides, Malfoy? Really? The house elves would have to have gone entirely around the bend for them to mix his laundry up with mine."
"Don't know about that Harry," Seamus calls out snidely, his voice a mixture of grogginess and irritation from being woken up by the noise, "Heard that you and Malfoy have been pretty cozy these days."
Remember all that sympathy Harry had had for Seamus and his missing favorite robe? All gone now. In fact, he would be informing Dobby as soon as possible that "Master Finnigan" was actually just looking for excuses to procure dresses surreptitiously.
Ron laughs, "That's true, mate. Didn't you ditch us last time at Hogsmeade to go talk to Malfoy?"
"Important weird dark magic traditions in established dark families stuff," Harry instantly replies, hastily stuffing books into his bag.
"And that time before the Quidditch match?" Hermione asks skeptically.
"Malfoy and Black family relations," Harry improvises (true, if you consider the fact that Sirius kind of adopted him into the Black family…)
Seamus (that utter, utter wanker) chimes in, "And that time you skipped History of Magic?"
"That time during the Halloween feast?" Dean joins in because he and Seamus are united in terms of being complete prats.
"Inter-house unity and-and Quidditch practice scheduling," Harry manages to mumble out, frantically walking to the door.
"When I wanted to ask you for help on that four foot long essay in Defense Against the Dark Arts in the middle of the night because I had forgotten about it, but you were sneaking out?" Neville asks, somehow managing to say the worst possible thing without even being fully conscious.
Everyone blinks, and then looks at Harry with narrowed eyes.
"Is there something you would like to tell us, Harry?" Hermione asks gently.
Worst. Day. Ever.
--
"I am telling you, I am not having some sort of gay tryst with Malfoy!" Harry frantically yells at Ron and Hermione in the (thankfully) deserted courtyard.
(And it's partially true. Harry has absolutely no idea what to call their relationship at this point. Allies is saying too little. They are not friends. Boyfriends is way too schmoopy, and they are not walking around holding hands. Fuckbuddies is too crude. Lovers is too Harlequin novel-ly.)
"It's okay Harry, you can tell us," Hermione insists earnestly, elbowing Ron, "We'll support you no matter what, right Ron? Ron?"
"Yeah, yeah," Ron replies, rubbing his arm and glaring at Hermione, "Even if it's kind of weird."
Hermione stomps on Ron's foot and then continues, "What Ron meant to say is, it's definitely a…a surprise, but it's also a good thing! You can further cement your alliance with the Dark families this way! More Slytherins might join us! And even if he's arrogant and rude, at least he's fairly attractive?"
"Yes, because I'm that shallow, and the hatesex is just that awesome," Harry deadpans, hoping sarcasm (sort of) would work.
"It is actually," a voice drawls from behind him, and Harry's stomach plummets.
He doesn't have to turn around to know that Malfoy (Draco? It's so hard to call him that when it's been Malfoy for years, but a lot of things are different now.) is standing behind him, blonde hair slicked back, expensive black winter coat hugging his slender frame, with a sneer on his face, but he does anyway.
Hermione and Ron are gaping at him, and Harry would find their huge golfball sized eyes and wide open mouths hilarious if Malfoy wasn't busy striding towards him.
"TMI!" Ron yells, finally snapping out of it.
Malfoy smirks at Ron before turning to Harry and drawing a familiar red and gold scarf out of his jacket pocket, "I believe this is yours," he drawls, mischief glinting in his gray-blue eyes, "It seems we got our clothes mixed up during our…meeting last night."
Harry snatches his scarf from Malfoy's hand and hisses, "What do you think you're doing?"
Malfoy's face twists slightly, and he hisses back, "I'm not about to be your dirty little secret, Potter. You should be proud you even managed to land me."
And Harry has never been entirely sure what the rules of the game they are playing have been, but he does know how to win.
"You look cold," he says solicitously, wrapping his scarf around Draco's neck and grabbing him by his hand.
Draco recoils from surprise, but Harry simply pulls him closer to his side and continues, "Why don't we go up to the Tower to pick up your scarf?"
Draco untangles himself from Harry's grasp and raises an eyebrow, "Walk around school to Gryffindor Tower wearing a Gryffindor scarf? Not bloody likely. Accio it here."
Harry simply grasps his hand again and clasps their fingers together, "Come on," he breathes, "I want to show everyone who you belong to."
Ron is gagging, and if Hermione's eyes get any wider they're going to fall out, but Draco is laughing and pulling him along, so maybe it's okay if Harry still has no real idea what he's gotten into.
This is how it started, with each poking and prodding each other, trying to get the other to back down somehow, and it just escalated after they were supposed to be allies, until here they are now with Draco strutting into the Gryffindor common room as though he owns it, and maybe it's okay.
Maybe his luck hasn't run out yet.
Maybe it's just starting.
A/N: Hm, I could see how I could have gotten a lot darker with this, but I'm kind of pleased with how fluffy it turned out. I'm sorry if I gave anyone cavities. Also, I apologize if it seemed to kind of careen around emotionally. It wrote itself pretty smoothly though. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review! (And did anyone get the Jeffrey Dean Morgan reference? I'm a bit obsessed with Watchmen and Supernatural so…)
Hope you liked it Jennifer. Merry Christmas!
Author - juurensha (also known as ice illuser on ff.net)
Rating - PG13
Pairing - Harry/Draco
Warnings - Slash, language
Summary - To be perfectly fair, Harry hadn't even put on the scarf. It's not until Hermione asks curiously, "Is that a Slytherin scarf, Harry?" that he even realizes he has a problem.
Disclaimer- I obviously don't own Harry Potter or else why would I be writing fanfiction?
A/N: So this is a request as a Christmas gift for jenny_halliwelco, and also my first Harry Potter fic. Personally I think Harry/Draco only works out in the lovely AU vates series by lightning on the wave, but this is Christmas fluff, and kind of AU, so it's alright. Please enjoy.
To be perfectly fair, Harry hadn't even put on the scarf. All he had done was blearily look at it (because of course Hermione would want to study at 8 am on a Saturday morning), then shove it back in his drawer because even in his half-asleep foggy state he realizes that that isn't his scarf.
It's not until Hermione asks curiously, "Is that a Slytherin scarf, Harry?" that he even realizes he has a problem.
"Um, no. No, absolutely not," he manages to stammer out, hastily slamming his drawer shut, praying that somehow Hermione was color-blind and couldn't really tell a white and green scarf apart from the sea of red and gold that is his clothes.
It seemed however, that he had used up most of his luck that year defeating Voldemort (again. Which was good, since he had managed to scare some of the dark wizarding families, including the Malfoys, onto his side, but it really really sucked when he wanted to keep certain things private).
Hermione pushed him to the side and impatiently opened up his drawer and pulled out the incriminating piece of cloth, "It really is. How did you get it?"
As Harry is frantically attempting to come up with any sort of excuse (wild hippogriff attack? Unicorn rampage? The Dursley's ironic attempt at a gift?), Ron rubs his eyes and sleepily comments, "The house elves mix up your laundry again, mate? I guess even Dobby can't keep it straight this close to the holidays, hm?"
Never was Harry so thankful in this moment for S.P.E.W. when Hermione turns in incandescent fury upon Ron, scarf completely forgotten.
"You make the house elves do your laundry?" she yells, causing the other boys in the room to pull their pillows over their heads in well-practiced self-defense.
"Well what else are we supposed to do?" Ron asks defensively, holding Quidditch Through the Ages in front of him like a shield (bad choice; Hermione didn't care about Quidditch but could never bear to harm Hogwarts: A History), "Cast cleaning spells on our clothes and hope they don't catch on fire?"
"Obviously," Hermione snaps, "I do it all the time. Stop being so lazy, Ron."
As they go through their usual morning argument ("Just because I don't want to be in the library at 8 in the morning on a Saturday, does not make me lazy!" "Who was the one who asked me to help them study for Transfiguration? Oh right, it was you!"), Harry attempts to sneakily levitate the scarf back over to him.
Unfortunately (since, like he said before, all of his luck has been used up, and it's an ungodly hour in the morning to be awake), Harry yawns midway through "Leviosa" and propels the scarf straight into Ron's face.
"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes as Ron pulls the scarf off his face.
It still should be okay though right? Laundry mix-ups did happen (poor Seamus had lost his favorite robes and gained a light yellow sundress), and it's not as though the scarf has his name on it-
"Wait a minute, who's DM?"
Except of course Malfoy would have his initials embroidered on every stitch of clothing he owns. That berk.
"No one. Dean Morgan," Harry babbles, tugging the scarf away from Ron and balling it up, "Remember, that Slytherin first year?"
Hermione frowns, "You mean like the actor? I don't remember any first years with that name."
Harry twitch-shrugs, striding back over to his dresser, "Well, there are a lot of first years-"
"Hang on," Ron says, frowning while shoving books into his bag, "How do you know it's this Morgan bloke's scarf you got and not Malfoy's?"
Damnit.
He attempts to laugh, shoving the scarf into his sock drawer where it doesn't stand out quite as obviously, "Are you kidding me? Malfoy would have his family crest on it. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper, and all that."
Hermione gives him an odd look, "Why do you know the Malfoy family motto?"
This is just not his day.
"I was memorizing them to try and schmooze with the Dark families," Harry quickly replies, thankful for the truth, "Besides, Malfoy? Really? The house elves would have to have gone entirely around the bend for them to mix his laundry up with mine."
"Don't know about that Harry," Seamus calls out snidely, his voice a mixture of grogginess and irritation from being woken up by the noise, "Heard that you and Malfoy have been pretty cozy these days."
Remember all that sympathy Harry had had for Seamus and his missing favorite robe? All gone now. In fact, he would be informing Dobby as soon as possible that "Master Finnigan" was actually just looking for excuses to procure dresses surreptitiously.
Ron laughs, "That's true, mate. Didn't you ditch us last time at Hogsmeade to go talk to Malfoy?"
"Important weird dark magic traditions in established dark families stuff," Harry instantly replies, hastily stuffing books into his bag.
"And that time before the Quidditch match?" Hermione asks skeptically.
"Malfoy and Black family relations," Harry improvises (true, if you consider the fact that Sirius kind of adopted him into the Black family…)
Seamus (that utter, utter wanker) chimes in, "And that time you skipped History of Magic?"
"That time during the Halloween feast?" Dean joins in because he and Seamus are united in terms of being complete prats.
"Inter-house unity and-and Quidditch practice scheduling," Harry manages to mumble out, frantically walking to the door.
"When I wanted to ask you for help on that four foot long essay in Defense Against the Dark Arts in the middle of the night because I had forgotten about it, but you were sneaking out?" Neville asks, somehow managing to say the worst possible thing without even being fully conscious.
Everyone blinks, and then looks at Harry with narrowed eyes.
"Is there something you would like to tell us, Harry?" Hermione asks gently.
Worst. Day. Ever.
--
"I am telling you, I am not having some sort of gay tryst with Malfoy!" Harry frantically yells at Ron and Hermione in the (thankfully) deserted courtyard.
(And it's partially true. Harry has absolutely no idea what to call their relationship at this point. Allies is saying too little. They are not friends. Boyfriends is way too schmoopy, and they are not walking around holding hands. Fuckbuddies is too crude. Lovers is too Harlequin novel-ly.)
"It's okay Harry, you can tell us," Hermione insists earnestly, elbowing Ron, "We'll support you no matter what, right Ron? Ron?"
"Yeah, yeah," Ron replies, rubbing his arm and glaring at Hermione, "Even if it's kind of weird."
Hermione stomps on Ron's foot and then continues, "What Ron meant to say is, it's definitely a…a surprise, but it's also a good thing! You can further cement your alliance with the Dark families this way! More Slytherins might join us! And even if he's arrogant and rude, at least he's fairly attractive?"
"Yes, because I'm that shallow, and the hatesex is just that awesome," Harry deadpans, hoping sarcasm (sort of) would work.
"It is actually," a voice drawls from behind him, and Harry's stomach plummets.
He doesn't have to turn around to know that Malfoy (Draco? It's so hard to call him that when it's been Malfoy for years, but a lot of things are different now.) is standing behind him, blonde hair slicked back, expensive black winter coat hugging his slender frame, with a sneer on his face, but he does anyway.
Hermione and Ron are gaping at him, and Harry would find their huge golfball sized eyes and wide open mouths hilarious if Malfoy wasn't busy striding towards him.
"TMI!" Ron yells, finally snapping out of it.
Malfoy smirks at Ron before turning to Harry and drawing a familiar red and gold scarf out of his jacket pocket, "I believe this is yours," he drawls, mischief glinting in his gray-blue eyes, "It seems we got our clothes mixed up during our…meeting last night."
Harry snatches his scarf from Malfoy's hand and hisses, "What do you think you're doing?"
Malfoy's face twists slightly, and he hisses back, "I'm not about to be your dirty little secret, Potter. You should be proud you even managed to land me."
And Harry has never been entirely sure what the rules of the game they are playing have been, but he does know how to win.
"You look cold," he says solicitously, wrapping his scarf around Draco's neck and grabbing him by his hand.
Draco recoils from surprise, but Harry simply pulls him closer to his side and continues, "Why don't we go up to the Tower to pick up your scarf?"
Draco untangles himself from Harry's grasp and raises an eyebrow, "Walk around school to Gryffindor Tower wearing a Gryffindor scarf? Not bloody likely. Accio it here."
Harry simply grasps his hand again and clasps their fingers together, "Come on," he breathes, "I want to show everyone who you belong to."
Ron is gagging, and if Hermione's eyes get any wider they're going to fall out, but Draco is laughing and pulling him along, so maybe it's okay if Harry still has no real idea what he's gotten into.
This is how it started, with each poking and prodding each other, trying to get the other to back down somehow, and it just escalated after they were supposed to be allies, until here they are now with Draco strutting into the Gryffindor common room as though he owns it, and maybe it's okay.
Maybe his luck hasn't run out yet.
Maybe it's just starting.
A/N: Hm, I could see how I could have gotten a lot darker with this, but I'm kind of pleased with how fluffy it turned out. I'm sorry if I gave anyone cavities. Also, I apologize if it seemed to kind of careen around emotionally. It wrote itself pretty smoothly though. Hope you enjoyed it. Please review! (And did anyone get the Jeffrey Dean Morgan reference? I'm a bit obsessed with Watchmen and Supernatural so…)
Hope you liked it Jennifer. Merry Christmas!