Fic: 'Little White Lie' Harry/Draco NC17
Title: Little White Lie
Author: softly_sweetly
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Handkerchief codes (Wizarding equivalent of)
Other Warnings: Fluff,
Word Count: 2100 approx.
Summary/Description: It's just a little white lie. An eight by eight inch square of a little white lie.
Author's Notes: Thanks Ellie and Isis for betaing - you're stars. Written for February's daily_deviant prompt. Also counts to prompt #42 Kink from my lover100 table, which can be found here
"You're sure about this?"
"Of course I'm sure." Draco pushed his hair off his face and studied himself in the mirror. He'd do.
"It's just..."
"Potter," Draco paused for dramatic effect, sighing in faux-exasperation and turning to look at Harry. "If you don't want to go out, then don't go. You're the one who begged to come out with me."
"Didn't beg," Harry muttered sullenly.
Draco considered bickering, but he couldn't be arsed tonight. He had bigger plans than fighting with Harry, however enjoyable that may be.
Walking into his student bedroom and finding Harry unpacking on the next bed, Draco had debated dropping out of Healer school altogether. But a combination of growing up, a heavy workload, and actually taking the time to get to know each other rather than hex on sight had brought him and Harry to the status of friends. Sort of. Close enough that Draco had no problem imagining Harry in the shower, and Harry apparently had no problem rifling through Draco's drawers, finding his collection of coloured handkerchiefs and badgering Draco until Draco revealed what they meant.
Of course, he'd had to explain twice. And then write a list. And then draw a diagram. But eventually things had clicked into place for Harry, and the pestering had begun. Draco had resisted as long as he could, but when Harry had announced he was going to a handkerchief party on his own, Draco's hand had been forced. So he'd agreed to go with Harry, and keep an eye on him.
Taking a bright red handkerchief, Draco tucked it into his back pocket and added a sticking charm to make sure it would stay secure.
"And red means?"
"Up for anything," Draco lied, reaching out for the second handkerchief and holding it out to Harry.
"And you're sure the white means..."
"It's your first time at a party, and you want to take things slowly. I have been at this awhile, you know."
"Slut," Harry snapped, but it was good-natured, and he grinned at Draco as Draco passed him the handkerchief. "Imagine two years ago, if we'd known we'd be going out to pick up dates together."
"I don't know about you, but two years ago I was trying not to get killed, so dating wasn't at the forefront of my mind."
Harry just rolled his eyes; he was good at hearing the dry sarcasm in Draco's words and not taking offence at them. Most of the time. Wand in hand, Draco flicked it silently and tried not to retch at the sensation of being squeezed far too tight. The first gasp of air after Apparition was the sweetest thing in the world, and he savoured the breath as he waited for Harry to appear next to him. He could have offered to Side-Along, but didn't want to appear desperate.
"We just... go in?"
The trepidation was quite endearing, so Draco didn't tease Harry about it. He could do that later. "Yes, we go in. And being substantially younger and better looking than the majority of people who attend these, we'll be fighting them off with a beater's bat. First one back to the room puts up the privacy spells."
Harry nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth, but he still stepped forwards first, walking confidently into the club disguised as an abandoned shop. Draco took a moment to enjoy the view before he followed, diving right in before he could lose his nerve and change his mind.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Pushing the bloke off his neck, Draco wiped the slobber away and didn't bother saying anything as he walked away. Harry had been sitting by the bar all night, sinking whisky after whisky, and being completely ignored. And ignoring Draco. Which was not part of the plan. Moving through the sweaty bodies, Draco slid gracefully into the seat next to Harry and motioned at the bartender for two more drinks.
"Don't bother, I'm going home."
The glasses slid in front of them, and Draco handed over enough Galleons to cover his tab, draining the whisky in a single mouthful. "I'll come with you."
"Stay, have fun."
"Don't be so noble. Get your coat, Potter, you've pulled." Draco stood up and began walking to the door, ignoring the half-hearted protests that Harry was throwing at his back. Harry was following him out, after all, and he suspected Harry was actually grateful that Draco was coming back with him, alone. Checking over his shoulder, Draco swore under his breath when he noticed Harry throwing up in the gutter. "How much did you drink?"
"Well, after the third man came up to me, smiled, then looked surprised and buggered off, I just made the barman leave the bottle." Harry belched softly, and staggered into Draco. "Whoops."
"Whoops indeed. You're in no state to Apparate." This wasn't quite what Draco had been imagining when he planned this night out, and he was beginning to wish he'd just asked directly, and not bothered with all this subterfuge. The plan had been to get Harry to the club, wow him, and take him back home. Draco had not factored in that Harry wouldn't come storming over jealously the first time a man looked at him, and drag him back to their bedroom.
And really, a man tried to put together a decent, Slytherin-esque plan to ensnare the man he was fantasising about, and it ended in vomit and Side-Along Apparition. Life was such a cruel mistress sometimes. The Apparition was made slightly more enjoyable by the fact he had Harry pressed against his side, and Draco was almost sad when his head stopped spinning, and he realised he'd have to let go of Harry. Harry, however, had other ideas. Harry went toppling onto Draco's bed, with his arm still around Draco's waist. Draco had no choice but to follow him. Draco decided to test the waters, suddenly doubting himself. Maybe he'd read Harry wrong, maybe it was all in his head, the times he thought he'd caught Harry looking at him. "Potter, I was joking about you having pulled me."
"You're the only one that talked to me all night, you know." Harry was surprisingly coherent when he was drunk, and he wriggled up into a sitting position as Draco debated his options. And then Harry was standing up and getting off Draco's bed, and it was make or break time. Draco's great plan had failed. He had gambled on Harry being jealous once he looked at another man, and Harry coming over to do all the work, confess his feelings so that Draco didn't have to take that chance first. But that hadn't happened, so either Draco was dismally mistaken in his assumptions about Harry, or he was going to have to do all the legwork himself.
"I should have worn the red one. Or the orange one. Or whichever one signalled that I'd had a crap week and could really do with a blowjob."
Or maybe, just maybe, Harry had given him an opening.
"You know... I might have made... well, a mistake. With your handkerchief."
Harry turned around to look at Draco, shirt undone and belt flapping open. It was quite a delicious look for him. Draco swallowed, and tried to focus. "You know, I think that white might mean that you're taken."
"Taken?"
"Yes. Sort of, in a relationship. And not a relationship where flirting and random kissing is okay."
Whether the whisky was wearing off, or Harry was beginning to piece together Draco's plan, Draco couldn't be sure. But he could see comprehension dawning on Harry. He was probably going to get thumped; Draco had never been very good at working out who wanted an actual relationship with him, hence his string of one-night-stands.
"Right. And what does red mean?"
Wincing, Draco looked up at Harry from under his eyelashes. "It might mean in a relationship, but up for a kiss or two."
"Right." Harry's eyes were narrowed, but there was a hint of a smile around his mouth. Maybe Draco wasn't doomed. "And this relationship, that both of us appear to be in. I don't suppose we have invisible partners locked up somewhere, do we?"
"Heh."
Taking the handkerchief out of his back pocket, Harry stepped closer to Draco's bed, and Draco had to fight not to lean back. He really didn't want to get thumped.
"So what colour stands for 'the boyfriend I wasn't aware I had is going to make my crap week, and my crap evening, much better with a blowjob'?"
Draco wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. Then Harry unzipped his fly. "You know, I think that might be yellow."
The handkerchief that was still in Draco's hand turned a stunning primrose yellow, and Draco took the hint. Standing up and letting the material fall to the floor, he reached out for Harry's belt and pulled it free of Harry's jeans in a single movement.
"Smooth."
"I'm just getting started." Draco only had to push lightly on Harry's chest to get Harry onto his bed, and before Harry could reconsider his words, Draco climbed on top of him on the bed. He didn't care that he was still clothed, or that Harry was too. All that mattered was getting Harry's jeans undone, and showing Harry exactly what he was getting himself into.
Fumbling the tough denim open, Draco reached in and groaned when his fingers touched silky skin. Harry went commando. How had they been sharing a room for six months, and Draco had not already discovered this? Pulling Harry's cock free of the restrictive trousers, Draco looked up at Harry and smirked. In a single move he opened his mouth and dropped his head, fingers supporting Harry's swollen shaft as Draco took in as much as he could. The whisky he'd consumed at the club had lowered his inhibitions just enough that Draco didn't want to show grace or finesse. He wanted to make Harry clench the quilt and shout out his name. Sucking like his life depended on it, Draco bobbed his head up and down, sneaking glances up at Harry when he could, and pushing past his gag reflex until he could bury his nose in wiry curls. With one hand in Harry's jeans, cupping his balls and squeezing in an offbeat rhythm, Draco used the other to steady Harry's shaft, and his body weight to keep Harry from bucking off the bed.
Everything was fast. His movements, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, the stream of saliva trickling out of his mouth, and Harry's mantra of words that made no sense at all, and yet displayed his pleasure more than the best-constructed sentence ever could. Draco gave himself a brief moment to hope he'd be able to take things slower later, and that Harry wouldn't sober up and decide this was a bad idea, but most of his attention was focussed on his rhythm and the feel of Harry's cock sliding over his tongue and lips.
"Fuck!" Harry's fingers clenched in his hair, breaking more than a few strands, and then Draco was swallowing fast. It was the best blowjob he'd ever given, and that was saying something. Of course, it was his skill, and not the fact that he'd finally got his mouth around Harry's dick, which made the experience so brilliant. Mostly.
"So," Harry sounded happy and out of breath, and Draco couldn't resist flashing Harry a smirk as he knelt up on the bed. "You know, you could have just asked me out."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"God forbid you do anything the easy way."
Draco wiped at his mouth in an exaggeratedly slow, seductive manner. "I didn't hear you complaining."
Harry chuckled, and before Draco could begin to think about how they were going to transition from drunken blowjob to, at the very least, more sex, and at the most, a relationship, Harry had peeled his shirt off and began wriggling out of his jeans. "Is there a coloured handkerchief for wanting to stay up all night shagging like rabbits?"
"Purple."
Harry grinned. "You get that, I'll get the lube and the privacy spells."
As Harry bounded into the bathroom with his wand, Draco Summoned over the white handkerchief and changed it to imperial purple with a flick of his wand. Shaky start aside, his plan had worked perfectly.
Now all he had to do was convince Harry of the merits of chequered handkerchiefs, and Draco would be set for life.
Author: softly_sweetly
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Handkerchief codes (Wizarding equivalent of)
Other Warnings: Fluff,
Word Count: 2100 approx.
Summary/Description: It's just a little white lie. An eight by eight inch square of a little white lie.
Author's Notes: Thanks Ellie and Isis for betaing - you're stars. Written for February's daily_deviant prompt. Also counts to prompt #42 Kink from my lover100 table, which can be found here
"You're sure about this?"
"Of course I'm sure." Draco pushed his hair off his face and studied himself in the mirror. He'd do.
"It's just..."
"Potter," Draco paused for dramatic effect, sighing in faux-exasperation and turning to look at Harry. "If you don't want to go out, then don't go. You're the one who begged to come out with me."
"Didn't beg," Harry muttered sullenly.
Draco considered bickering, but he couldn't be arsed tonight. He had bigger plans than fighting with Harry, however enjoyable that may be.
Walking into his student bedroom and finding Harry unpacking on the next bed, Draco had debated dropping out of Healer school altogether. But a combination of growing up, a heavy workload, and actually taking the time to get to know each other rather than hex on sight had brought him and Harry to the status of friends. Sort of. Close enough that Draco had no problem imagining Harry in the shower, and Harry apparently had no problem rifling through Draco's drawers, finding his collection of coloured handkerchiefs and badgering Draco until Draco revealed what they meant.
Of course, he'd had to explain twice. And then write a list. And then draw a diagram. But eventually things had clicked into place for Harry, and the pestering had begun. Draco had resisted as long as he could, but when Harry had announced he was going to a handkerchief party on his own, Draco's hand had been forced. So he'd agreed to go with Harry, and keep an eye on him.
Taking a bright red handkerchief, Draco tucked it into his back pocket and added a sticking charm to make sure it would stay secure.
"And red means?"
"Up for anything," Draco lied, reaching out for the second handkerchief and holding it out to Harry.
"And you're sure the white means..."
"It's your first time at a party, and you want to take things slowly. I have been at this awhile, you know."
"Slut," Harry snapped, but it was good-natured, and he grinned at Draco as Draco passed him the handkerchief. "Imagine two years ago, if we'd known we'd be going out to pick up dates together."
"I don't know about you, but two years ago I was trying not to get killed, so dating wasn't at the forefront of my mind."
Harry just rolled his eyes; he was good at hearing the dry sarcasm in Draco's words and not taking offence at them. Most of the time. Wand in hand, Draco flicked it silently and tried not to retch at the sensation of being squeezed far too tight. The first gasp of air after Apparition was the sweetest thing in the world, and he savoured the breath as he waited for Harry to appear next to him. He could have offered to Side-Along, but didn't want to appear desperate.
"We just... go in?"
The trepidation was quite endearing, so Draco didn't tease Harry about it. He could do that later. "Yes, we go in. And being substantially younger and better looking than the majority of people who attend these, we'll be fighting them off with a beater's bat. First one back to the room puts up the privacy spells."
Harry nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth, but he still stepped forwards first, walking confidently into the club disguised as an abandoned shop. Draco took a moment to enjoy the view before he followed, diving right in before he could lose his nerve and change his mind.
~~~~~♥~~~~~
Pushing the bloke off his neck, Draco wiped the slobber away and didn't bother saying anything as he walked away. Harry had been sitting by the bar all night, sinking whisky after whisky, and being completely ignored. And ignoring Draco. Which was not part of the plan. Moving through the sweaty bodies, Draco slid gracefully into the seat next to Harry and motioned at the bartender for two more drinks.
"Don't bother, I'm going home."
The glasses slid in front of them, and Draco handed over enough Galleons to cover his tab, draining the whisky in a single mouthful. "I'll come with you."
"Stay, have fun."
"Don't be so noble. Get your coat, Potter, you've pulled." Draco stood up and began walking to the door, ignoring the half-hearted protests that Harry was throwing at his back. Harry was following him out, after all, and he suspected Harry was actually grateful that Draco was coming back with him, alone. Checking over his shoulder, Draco swore under his breath when he noticed Harry throwing up in the gutter. "How much did you drink?"
"Well, after the third man came up to me, smiled, then looked surprised and buggered off, I just made the barman leave the bottle." Harry belched softly, and staggered into Draco. "Whoops."
"Whoops indeed. You're in no state to Apparate." This wasn't quite what Draco had been imagining when he planned this night out, and he was beginning to wish he'd just asked directly, and not bothered with all this subterfuge. The plan had been to get Harry to the club, wow him, and take him back home. Draco had not factored in that Harry wouldn't come storming over jealously the first time a man looked at him, and drag him back to their bedroom.
And really, a man tried to put together a decent, Slytherin-esque plan to ensnare the man he was fantasising about, and it ended in vomit and Side-Along Apparition. Life was such a cruel mistress sometimes. The Apparition was made slightly more enjoyable by the fact he had Harry pressed against his side, and Draco was almost sad when his head stopped spinning, and he realised he'd have to let go of Harry. Harry, however, had other ideas. Harry went toppling onto Draco's bed, with his arm still around Draco's waist. Draco had no choice but to follow him. Draco decided to test the waters, suddenly doubting himself. Maybe he'd read Harry wrong, maybe it was all in his head, the times he thought he'd caught Harry looking at him. "Potter, I was joking about you having pulled me."
"You're the only one that talked to me all night, you know." Harry was surprisingly coherent when he was drunk, and he wriggled up into a sitting position as Draco debated his options. And then Harry was standing up and getting off Draco's bed, and it was make or break time. Draco's great plan had failed. He had gambled on Harry being jealous once he looked at another man, and Harry coming over to do all the work, confess his feelings so that Draco didn't have to take that chance first. But that hadn't happened, so either Draco was dismally mistaken in his assumptions about Harry, or he was going to have to do all the legwork himself.
"I should have worn the red one. Or the orange one. Or whichever one signalled that I'd had a crap week and could really do with a blowjob."
Or maybe, just maybe, Harry had given him an opening.
"You know... I might have made... well, a mistake. With your handkerchief."
Harry turned around to look at Draco, shirt undone and belt flapping open. It was quite a delicious look for him. Draco swallowed, and tried to focus. "You know, I think that white might mean that you're taken."
"Taken?"
"Yes. Sort of, in a relationship. And not a relationship where flirting and random kissing is okay."
Whether the whisky was wearing off, or Harry was beginning to piece together Draco's plan, Draco couldn't be sure. But he could see comprehension dawning on Harry. He was probably going to get thumped; Draco had never been very good at working out who wanted an actual relationship with him, hence his string of one-night-stands.
"Right. And what does red mean?"
Wincing, Draco looked up at Harry from under his eyelashes. "It might mean in a relationship, but up for a kiss or two."
"Right." Harry's eyes were narrowed, but there was a hint of a smile around his mouth. Maybe Draco wasn't doomed. "And this relationship, that both of us appear to be in. I don't suppose we have invisible partners locked up somewhere, do we?"
"Heh."
Taking the handkerchief out of his back pocket, Harry stepped closer to Draco's bed, and Draco had to fight not to lean back. He really didn't want to get thumped.
"So what colour stands for 'the boyfriend I wasn't aware I had is going to make my crap week, and my crap evening, much better with a blowjob'?"
Draco wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. Then Harry unzipped his fly. "You know, I think that might be yellow."
The handkerchief that was still in Draco's hand turned a stunning primrose yellow, and Draco took the hint. Standing up and letting the material fall to the floor, he reached out for Harry's belt and pulled it free of Harry's jeans in a single movement.
"Smooth."
"I'm just getting started." Draco only had to push lightly on Harry's chest to get Harry onto his bed, and before Harry could reconsider his words, Draco climbed on top of him on the bed. He didn't care that he was still clothed, or that Harry was too. All that mattered was getting Harry's jeans undone, and showing Harry exactly what he was getting himself into.
Fumbling the tough denim open, Draco reached in and groaned when his fingers touched silky skin. Harry went commando. How had they been sharing a room for six months, and Draco had not already discovered this? Pulling Harry's cock free of the restrictive trousers, Draco looked up at Harry and smirked. In a single move he opened his mouth and dropped his head, fingers supporting Harry's swollen shaft as Draco took in as much as he could. The whisky he'd consumed at the club had lowered his inhibitions just enough that Draco didn't want to show grace or finesse. He wanted to make Harry clench the quilt and shout out his name. Sucking like his life depended on it, Draco bobbed his head up and down, sneaking glances up at Harry when he could, and pushing past his gag reflex until he could bury his nose in wiry curls. With one hand in Harry's jeans, cupping his balls and squeezing in an offbeat rhythm, Draco used the other to steady Harry's shaft, and his body weight to keep Harry from bucking off the bed.
Everything was fast. His movements, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, the stream of saliva trickling out of his mouth, and Harry's mantra of words that made no sense at all, and yet displayed his pleasure more than the best-constructed sentence ever could. Draco gave himself a brief moment to hope he'd be able to take things slower later, and that Harry wouldn't sober up and decide this was a bad idea, but most of his attention was focussed on his rhythm and the feel of Harry's cock sliding over his tongue and lips.
"Fuck!" Harry's fingers clenched in his hair, breaking more than a few strands, and then Draco was swallowing fast. It was the best blowjob he'd ever given, and that was saying something. Of course, it was his skill, and not the fact that he'd finally got his mouth around Harry's dick, which made the experience so brilliant. Mostly.
"So," Harry sounded happy and out of breath, and Draco couldn't resist flashing Harry a smirk as he knelt up on the bed. "You know, you could have just asked me out."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"God forbid you do anything the easy way."
Draco wiped at his mouth in an exaggeratedly slow, seductive manner. "I didn't hear you complaining."
Harry chuckled, and before Draco could begin to think about how they were going to transition from drunken blowjob to, at the very least, more sex, and at the most, a relationship, Harry had peeled his shirt off and began wriggling out of his jeans. "Is there a coloured handkerchief for wanting to stay up all night shagging like rabbits?"
"Purple."
Harry grinned. "You get that, I'll get the lube and the privacy spells."
As Harry bounded into the bathroom with his wand, Draco Summoned over the white handkerchief and changed it to imperial purple with a flick of his wand. Shaky start aside, his plan had worked perfectly.
Now all he had to do was convince Harry of the merits of chequered handkerchiefs, and Draco would be set for life.