Sequel Time!!!
Title: To Wake Up On A Couch
Rating: PG
Genre: EWE, Slash
Pairing: H/D
Words: 964
Warning: None
Beta: Nope, all my own mistakes XD
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JKR and Warner Bros.+ affiliates, blah, blah, blah
Summary: Continuation of A Quiet Beginning: The morning after is probably supposed to be awkward, but nothing seems more natural to Harry than to wake up in Draco Malfoy's lap.
Notes: So yeah, by popular demand, here is the sequel to 'A Quiet Beginning,' linked above. Also, in case it's not immediately apparent (and I get confused when POV switches during stories myself), this is now Harry's POV. I hope it meets with everyone's approval! :D
♥♥♥♥
I am aware as I wake up that my ear feels crushed, my hand is numb, and I have a horrible crick in my neck. The hand that still has feeling pokes my strangely warm and lumpy pillow and I pick my head up just a little to rub my ear against the fabric underneath. I cracked my eyes open to take stock of my strange situation.
Last I checked, my pillow didn't wear grey pyjamas.
Immediately, I remembered last night; my surprise at seeing Draco there was surpassed only by my shock at his invitation to sit next to him. As my memory of the night continued to smack me upside my head I felt the fingers in my hair twitch. Oh Merlin, this was going to be awkward.
“Good morning, Malfoy.”
“Hullo, Potter.”
I didn't dare shift for a closer look at him. Draco moved his hand but didn't pull away altogether. He combed those blissful fingers through my hair again. I'd truly had no idea how much I enjoyed this before last night, but now I couldn't figure out I had existed these long eighteen years without this.
As it was, I groaned, unashamed of openly voicing my enjoyment, and I heard a soft laugh above me. I took a deep breath and gathered my so-called Gryffindor courage and shifted to lie on my back.
He looked like, well, like he'd just woken up. That platinum blond hair was tangled and not nearly as perfect as I was used to seeing it, his grey eyes were still droopy from sleep and the upholstery of the couch had left an imprint in his cheek.
He was bloody gorgeous.
The expression on his face made my stomach flutter and my cheeks burn. With the remains of my courage I slowly brought my hand above my hair to draw his fingers down. His face instantly started to close down, but I wouldn't let him jump to the wrong conclusions. I had wanted him since the first week of our eighth year and I wasn't going to let Draco have such an easy excuse to run away.
I brought my right hand to join the other and clasped Draco's in an strong grip. It was an awkward angle but I managed to manipulate his hand to study it closer. He had calluses on his palm and the pads of his fingers from riding his broom, identical to my own. There were others, including one on the inside of his middle finger, I would guess from holding a knife in potions class nearly every day for eight years.
I saw his nails were cut neatly and evenly close to the quick and when I bent his fingers to see, his knuckles looked darkened; from cracking them, I thought. Before I could think any more I brought a finger to my lips and left a feather light touch that left a mere ghost of sensation behind.
The breathing above and beside me hitched and I smiled against his fingers. One after another I showed him my appreciation for his kindness the night before, and when I finished I simply rested my cheek in his palm and let him make the next move.
Draco had just moved his thumb to brush against my lips when a loud and obviously fake cough broke the silence. Draco snatched his hand away and I sat up quickly, mourning the loss of warmth. A narrowed glance at the corridor opening into the dormitories held Ron and Neville leaning against the frame. They looked rather impressed with themselves. I was two vowels away from hexing them both out a window.
I offered a strained good morning, sneaking a quick glance at Draco. That damned indifferent mask was back on his face, one he used when he was feeling particularly nervous. I'd seen it enough to know during our first term back, when he had been vilified by the rest of the school, but I know he had been feeling comfortable in the eighth year dorms.
As the self-satisfied gits congratulated themselves for some unknown reason I turned to Draco. He had his arms crossed and an elegant eyebrow raised, looking like the Malfoy he was born to be. As sure as Voldemort was dead, my guts twisted in the most pleasant way possible and my palms grew hot. I hoped he wouldn't hex me to death for this, but a few voyeurs needed to be taught a lesson.
In the next moment I stood and turned to face Draco, who started to stand as well, but I straddled his lap and effectively ended that movement. It seemed natural the way his arms encircled my waist and there was nothing but heat in his gaze. When I linked my fingers around his neck and into his own gloriously soft hair I pulled him forward. I saw his trademark smirk on his lips before I made them mine.
As kisses went, in my limited experience, it wasn't fireworks worthy, or terribly sappy, or even very comfortable. Draco's lips were a little dry, but they were soft and warm and it seemed that warmth went through my whole body. I didn't let things go further than that (god, how I wanted to), I didn't particularly want witnesses to out first snog session, so I drew back with a little peck at Draco's lips and shimmied back to stand.
“Want to go get dressed for breakfast?” I asked and held out my hand to Draco, hoping he would recognize the invitation for what it was. Draco seemed to soften just the tiniest bit and accepted.
I didn't let go as we walked between two shocked teens to our rooms and he didn't pull away.
♥♥♥♥
Rating: PG
Genre: EWE, Slash
Pairing: H/D
Words: 964
Warning: None
Beta: Nope, all my own mistakes XD
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JKR and Warner Bros.+ affiliates, blah, blah, blah
Summary: Continuation of A Quiet Beginning: The morning after is probably supposed to be awkward, but nothing seems more natural to Harry than to wake up in Draco Malfoy's lap.
Notes: So yeah, by popular demand, here is the sequel to 'A Quiet Beginning,' linked above. Also, in case it's not immediately apparent (and I get confused when POV switches during stories myself), this is now Harry's POV. I hope it meets with everyone's approval! :D
♥♥♥♥
I am aware as I wake up that my ear feels crushed, my hand is numb, and I have a horrible crick in my neck. The hand that still has feeling pokes my strangely warm and lumpy pillow and I pick my head up just a little to rub my ear against the fabric underneath. I cracked my eyes open to take stock of my strange situation.
Last I checked, my pillow didn't wear grey pyjamas.
Immediately, I remembered last night; my surprise at seeing Draco there was surpassed only by my shock at his invitation to sit next to him. As my memory of the night continued to smack me upside my head I felt the fingers in my hair twitch. Oh Merlin, this was going to be awkward.
“Good morning, Malfoy.”
“Hullo, Potter.”
I didn't dare shift for a closer look at him. Draco moved his hand but didn't pull away altogether. He combed those blissful fingers through my hair again. I'd truly had no idea how much I enjoyed this before last night, but now I couldn't figure out I had existed these long eighteen years without this.
As it was, I groaned, unashamed of openly voicing my enjoyment, and I heard a soft laugh above me. I took a deep breath and gathered my so-called Gryffindor courage and shifted to lie on my back.
He looked like, well, like he'd just woken up. That platinum blond hair was tangled and not nearly as perfect as I was used to seeing it, his grey eyes were still droopy from sleep and the upholstery of the couch had left an imprint in his cheek.
He was bloody gorgeous.
The expression on his face made my stomach flutter and my cheeks burn. With the remains of my courage I slowly brought my hand above my hair to draw his fingers down. His face instantly started to close down, but I wouldn't let him jump to the wrong conclusions. I had wanted him since the first week of our eighth year and I wasn't going to let Draco have such an easy excuse to run away.
I brought my right hand to join the other and clasped Draco's in an strong grip. It was an awkward angle but I managed to manipulate his hand to study it closer. He had calluses on his palm and the pads of his fingers from riding his broom, identical to my own. There were others, including one on the inside of his middle finger, I would guess from holding a knife in potions class nearly every day for eight years.
I saw his nails were cut neatly and evenly close to the quick and when I bent his fingers to see, his knuckles looked darkened; from cracking them, I thought. Before I could think any more I brought a finger to my lips and left a feather light touch that left a mere ghost of sensation behind.
The breathing above and beside me hitched and I smiled against his fingers. One after another I showed him my appreciation for his kindness the night before, and when I finished I simply rested my cheek in his palm and let him make the next move.
Draco had just moved his thumb to brush against my lips when a loud and obviously fake cough broke the silence. Draco snatched his hand away and I sat up quickly, mourning the loss of warmth. A narrowed glance at the corridor opening into the dormitories held Ron and Neville leaning against the frame. They looked rather impressed with themselves. I was two vowels away from hexing them both out a window.
I offered a strained good morning, sneaking a quick glance at Draco. That damned indifferent mask was back on his face, one he used when he was feeling particularly nervous. I'd seen it enough to know during our first term back, when he had been vilified by the rest of the school, but I know he had been feeling comfortable in the eighth year dorms.
As the self-satisfied gits congratulated themselves for some unknown reason I turned to Draco. He had his arms crossed and an elegant eyebrow raised, looking like the Malfoy he was born to be. As sure as Voldemort was dead, my guts twisted in the most pleasant way possible and my palms grew hot. I hoped he wouldn't hex me to death for this, but a few voyeurs needed to be taught a lesson.
In the next moment I stood and turned to face Draco, who started to stand as well, but I straddled his lap and effectively ended that movement. It seemed natural the way his arms encircled my waist and there was nothing but heat in his gaze. When I linked my fingers around his neck and into his own gloriously soft hair I pulled him forward. I saw his trademark smirk on his lips before I made them mine.
As kisses went, in my limited experience, it wasn't fireworks worthy, or terribly sappy, or even very comfortable. Draco's lips were a little dry, but they were soft and warm and it seemed that warmth went through my whole body. I didn't let things go further than that (god, how I wanted to), I didn't particularly want witnesses to out first snog session, so I drew back with a little peck at Draco's lips and shimmied back to stand.
“Want to go get dressed for breakfast?” I asked and held out my hand to Draco, hoping he would recognize the invitation for what it was. Draco seemed to soften just the tiniest bit and accepted.
I didn't let go as we walked between two shocked teens to our rooms and he didn't pull away.
♥♥♥♥