A Start (H/D, PG-13)
Title: A Start
Author: sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1069
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Ron
Challenge: Written for tweeney's birthday, her prompt was: "Slugs, but please please please no angst". It also happens to fit enchanted_jae's monthly prompt of "That's my wand you're holding, Potter." Heh.
Warnings: No beta. Please point out any errors you find.
Summary: Takes place during sixth year (after the famous train nose-breaking incident). Obviously no DH spoilers, so read away!
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
What had started out as yet another argument between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had quickly escalated into a pushing and shoving match, and no doubt would have become a fist fight had the weasel not interfered.
"Eat slugs!" came the familiar words from second year.
Draco ducked instinctively, and watched with fascination as the spell hit Potter square in the chest. The brunette staggered back, turning green, and began spewing slugs all over the ground.
Draco jumped back, both amused and disgusted at this turn of events.
"Harry, shit, I'm sorry," the weasel called.
Draco just laughed. "Weaselby, you really ought to try a different spell. That one doesn't seem to work out so well for you, does it?"
"Shut up, ferret!"
"I take it back, weasel," Draco said as he amusedly watched Potter puke up more of the offending, writhing creatures. "Keep using that spell. I do so enjoy watching you Gryffindors suffer, and I don't even have to lift a finger."
"Petrificus Totalus," Ron cried, not missing his target this time.
Draco fell hard to the ground, now finding himself dangerously close to the slugs that Potter had just spit out, and staring up at the Gryffindor.
"There. Now you have a close-up view," Ron said. "Harry, let me --"
Cutting him off in between surges of slugs, Potter pushed the weasel away. "You've done enough, thanks. Just go to class and let Professor Sprout know that I won't be there."
"Can you make it to the hospital wing?" he asked.
"Don't need --" His words were cut off by a renewed surge of slugs. As Draco watched in horror, Potter puked up a fresh pile just to the side of Draco's head.
"Don't need hospital. I'll just let the spell wear off and I'll be fine. Just go!"
"What about Malfoy?"
"Just leave him," Potter said, glaring down at him. "I'll take care of him when I'm better." He attempted a sneer in Draco's direction, but it ended up looking more like he had a bad case of gas - which, under the circumstances, shouldn't have been a surprise. Draco felt a surge of panic in his stomach, wondering what Potter was going to do to him once he stopped spewing slugs.
The weasel smiled spitefully down at Draco, then turned to Potter. "Get him good."
For the next half hour, Draco lay immobile, watching as Potter gradually recovered. He had removed his glasses during a particularly bad episode, and perspiration was building up on his face. He hadn't moved his position much, so Draco had watched him, fascinated. His face was pale now, no longer green, his lips were red and full from constantly being wiped off, and his eyes were watery, glistening green above Draco.
He watched - what else could he do? - as Potter cast a charm to clean out his mouth, wiped his face with his robes, then ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them. Draco's stomach lurched for a new reason now. Oh, God, he thought. Not here; not now. His eyes must have shown panic, because Potter looked down at him with a wicked grin. His stomach lurched again.
"Scared, Malfoy?" Potter taunted, leaning in to whisper in Draco's ear. "You should be, you know. After all, I owe you for that little train trip." Draco felt Potter's breath on his ear, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face and ... well ... elsewhere.
Suddenly, Draco sensed Potter reaching inside his robes. What the hell was he doing? he thought in a panic. Potter's hand came out with Draco's wand. "So you don't try anything," Potter explained. "Finite Incantatum," he said, his own wand aimed at Draco. Then, to Draco's surprise, he reached out a hand to help him up. "Consider yourself lucky I didn't do anything," Potter said as he started to walk back towards the school.
Trying to keep his conflicting emotions in check, Draco called after him, That's my wand you're holding, Potter! Give it here!"
Potter stopped and turned around, an unreadable but somewhat challenging look on his face. "You are hardly in a position to be making demands, Malfoy," he said. "In fact, you're not in a position to be doing much of anything right now." Draco stood unmoving as Potter came closer. Potter leaned in as he whispered in Draco's ear, "Are you?"
Before he could stop himself, Draco let out a groan at the feel of Potter's warm breath on his ear.
"What's the matter, Draco? he continued in a soft tone. "Feeling powerless?" he taunted, misunderstanding completely.
Draco grabbed the front of Potter's robes and pushed him up against a nearby tree. Potter laughed as he placed his wand against Draco's throat.
"Is that really the best you can do?" Potter asked. This time it was Draco leaning in to whisper in Potter's ear. "Not even close," he growled. He pulled back just enough to look into Potter's eyes before bringing his mouth crashing down over the other boy's in a searing kiss. Draco pressed the length of his body against Potter's, while his tongue pressed against the brunette's lips, demanding entry.
Not sure if Potter had responded out of shock or desire, Draco didn't care as his tongue met Potter's. His stomach did another flip, and a tingling sensation flowed outwards, reaching every part of his body.
Potter, now over his initial shock, did not push Draco away, but rather pulled him in closer, his tongue responding in kind to Draco's.
A moan could be heard, though Draco wasn't sure from which of them. He was lost in the taste and feel of Potter ... of Harry. Their bodies felt so right together, Harry's hands kept pulling them closer, and Draco's mind was whirling.
He could feel Harry's interest growing ... quite literally ... as well as his own. Something in the back of his mind managed to push through the lust-induced haze to register where they were and what they were doing, and Draco reluctantly broke contact.
Looking frustrated, and sinfully shaggable, Harry growled his disapproval. Feeling rather pleased with himself, Draco asked, "Was that better?"
Harry grabbed the front of Draco's robes, and switched their positions. His eyes washed over Draco's body slowly, as he took in a deep breath. Leaning in for another kiss, he replied, "It's a start."
Author: sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1069
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Ron
Challenge: Written for tweeney's birthday, her prompt was: "Slugs, but please please please no angst". It also happens to fit enchanted_jae's monthly prompt of "That's my wand you're holding, Potter." Heh.
Warnings: No beta. Please point out any errors you find.
Summary: Takes place during sixth year (after the famous train nose-breaking incident). Obviously no DH spoilers, so read away!
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. They belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
What had started out as yet another argument between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had quickly escalated into a pushing and shoving match, and no doubt would have become a fist fight had the weasel not interfered.
"Eat slugs!" came the familiar words from second year.
Draco ducked instinctively, and watched with fascination as the spell hit Potter square in the chest. The brunette staggered back, turning green, and began spewing slugs all over the ground.
Draco jumped back, both amused and disgusted at this turn of events.
"Harry, shit, I'm sorry," the weasel called.
Draco just laughed. "Weaselby, you really ought to try a different spell. That one doesn't seem to work out so well for you, does it?"
"Shut up, ferret!"
"I take it back, weasel," Draco said as he amusedly watched Potter puke up more of the offending, writhing creatures. "Keep using that spell. I do so enjoy watching you Gryffindors suffer, and I don't even have to lift a finger."
"Petrificus Totalus," Ron cried, not missing his target this time.
Draco fell hard to the ground, now finding himself dangerously close to the slugs that Potter had just spit out, and staring up at the Gryffindor.
"There. Now you have a close-up view," Ron said. "Harry, let me --"
Cutting him off in between surges of slugs, Potter pushed the weasel away. "You've done enough, thanks. Just go to class and let Professor Sprout know that I won't be there."
"Can you make it to the hospital wing?" he asked.
"Don't need --" His words were cut off by a renewed surge of slugs. As Draco watched in horror, Potter puked up a fresh pile just to the side of Draco's head.
"Don't need hospital. I'll just let the spell wear off and I'll be fine. Just go!"
"What about Malfoy?"
"Just leave him," Potter said, glaring down at him. "I'll take care of him when I'm better." He attempted a sneer in Draco's direction, but it ended up looking more like he had a bad case of gas - which, under the circumstances, shouldn't have been a surprise. Draco felt a surge of panic in his stomach, wondering what Potter was going to do to him once he stopped spewing slugs.
The weasel smiled spitefully down at Draco, then turned to Potter. "Get him good."
For the next half hour, Draco lay immobile, watching as Potter gradually recovered. He had removed his glasses during a particularly bad episode, and perspiration was building up on his face. He hadn't moved his position much, so Draco had watched him, fascinated. His face was pale now, no longer green, his lips were red and full from constantly being wiped off, and his eyes were watery, glistening green above Draco.
He watched - what else could he do? - as Potter cast a charm to clean out his mouth, wiped his face with his robes, then ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them. Draco's stomach lurched for a new reason now. Oh, God, he thought. Not here; not now. His eyes must have shown panic, because Potter looked down at him with a wicked grin. His stomach lurched again.
"Scared, Malfoy?" Potter taunted, leaning in to whisper in Draco's ear. "You should be, you know. After all, I owe you for that little train trip." Draco felt Potter's breath on his ear, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face and ... well ... elsewhere.
Suddenly, Draco sensed Potter reaching inside his robes. What the hell was he doing? he thought in a panic. Potter's hand came out with Draco's wand. "So you don't try anything," Potter explained. "Finite Incantatum," he said, his own wand aimed at Draco. Then, to Draco's surprise, he reached out a hand to help him up. "Consider yourself lucky I didn't do anything," Potter said as he started to walk back towards the school.
Trying to keep his conflicting emotions in check, Draco called after him, That's my wand you're holding, Potter! Give it here!"
Potter stopped and turned around, an unreadable but somewhat challenging look on his face. "You are hardly in a position to be making demands, Malfoy," he said. "In fact, you're not in a position to be doing much of anything right now." Draco stood unmoving as Potter came closer. Potter leaned in as he whispered in Draco's ear, "Are you?"
Before he could stop himself, Draco let out a groan at the feel of Potter's warm breath on his ear.
"What's the matter, Draco? he continued in a soft tone. "Feeling powerless?" he taunted, misunderstanding completely.
Draco grabbed the front of Potter's robes and pushed him up against a nearby tree. Potter laughed as he placed his wand against Draco's throat.
"Is that really the best you can do?" Potter asked. This time it was Draco leaning in to whisper in Potter's ear. "Not even close," he growled. He pulled back just enough to look into Potter's eyes before bringing his mouth crashing down over the other boy's in a searing kiss. Draco pressed the length of his body against Potter's, while his tongue pressed against the brunette's lips, demanding entry.
Not sure if Potter had responded out of shock or desire, Draco didn't care as his tongue met Potter's. His stomach did another flip, and a tingling sensation flowed outwards, reaching every part of his body.
Potter, now over his initial shock, did not push Draco away, but rather pulled him in closer, his tongue responding in kind to Draco's.
A moan could be heard, though Draco wasn't sure from which of them. He was lost in the taste and feel of Potter ... of Harry. Their bodies felt so right together, Harry's hands kept pulling them closer, and Draco's mind was whirling.
He could feel Harry's interest growing ... quite literally ... as well as his own. Something in the back of his mind managed to push through the lust-induced haze to register where they were and what they were doing, and Draco reluctantly broke contact.
Looking frustrated, and sinfully shaggable, Harry growled his disapproval. Feeling rather pleased with himself, Draco asked, "Was that better?"
Harry grabbed the front of Draco's robes, and switched their positions. His eyes washed over Draco's body slowly, as he took in a deep breath. Leaning in for another kiss, he replied, "It's a start."