The Camping Trip
Title: The Camping Trip
Rated: PG13
Word Count: 850
Summary: Harry and Draco on a camping trip
A/N: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
That’s your tent?” an exasperated Harry asked, his green eyes growing to the size of saucers as he took in all of the equipment. “I’m not setting that up for you.”
“You don’t have to,” Draco sniffed and surreptitiously pulled out his wand, delicately flicking it in the direction of his camping gear.
Before he had a chance to utter the incantation, Harry snatched his wand out of his hand with a muttered, “Oh no you don’t.”
“You’re certainly making that a habit of yours,” Draco drawled, eyeballing the wand clutched tightly in Harry’s grasp.
Just like he had been doing all morning, Harry heaved a deep, frustrated sigh, shook his head, and grumbled under his breath. Draco was only able to make out the words, “tosser,” and “pain in my.”
After pocketing the blond’s wand, Harry stormed passed Draco and started rummaging through the layers of material and camping equipment that littered the ground.
“What are you doing?” the blond asked with his chin still in the air so he had to look down his nose at Harry.
“Looking for instructions.”
“Why?”
Harry made a noise at the back of his throat that wouldn’t have been out of place while strangling someone. “Why,” he mumbled to himself,” haphazardly shoving things out of his way. “His royal highness wants to know why I’m looking-” he stopped mid-rant, jumped to his feet, and emphatically waved a piece of paper in the air. “Aha! I found it!”
The Slytherin rolled his eyes as the other man did a happy dance, ignoring the sudden warmth that spread through his chest. “Honestly,” he sauntered over to the Gryffindor and fixed him with his fiercest glare. “Let me use my wand.”
“No,” he countered, shoving the paper under Draco’s nose. “We’re using the directions. Magic isn’t allowed.” He diverted his attention away from his former arch-nemesis, earnestly studying the sheet of paper. “A queen size bed, Draco?”
Draco was used to people-and most recently, Harry-staring at him. He did not like the way in which the other man stared at him now: like he had grown two extra heads. “Close your mouth, Potter, before you catch flies,” he bit out.
For once, Harry obliged the blond, but didn’t change his facial expression.
“Where else am I supposed to sleep?” He may have stomped his foot on the last word, but there was absolutely no way he whined.
Harry determinedly focused his gaze on the bedroll he had brought and looked back at a slightly disgruntled Draco. “A wardrobe?” he asked incredulously. “A full bathroom?”
As if the answer was completely obvious and Harry was an idiot, Draco made a sweeping gesture that encompassed his entire form.
Harry snorted, his eyebrows climbed into his hairline, but the amusement in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken or the blush on his cheeks that Draco noted with his eagle eye precision.
“We should-um-get to it,” Draco suggested, his own cheeks started to flame and his throat suddenly went dry.
“Yeah,” Harry choked out before clearing his throat. “I’ll just…” his voice trailed off as he read the rest of the instructions.
Draco knew the exact moment that Harry had reached the fine print at the bottom of the page. His eyes got impossibly wide as he let the paper fall from his clenching hands. If that wasn’t enough incentive for Draco to turn tail and run, the steely glare that Harry shot his way was. That was when all hell broke loose.
“Malfoy, you bloody wanker,” he screeched and closed the distance between them.
Draco did the Slytherin thing in that moment. He took off, running as fast as his feet could carry him.
“It can only be set up with magic,” Harry snarled as he chased after the blond.
In an effort to lose the fuming Gryffindor who was hot on his heels and could easily overtake him, Draco turned a sharp corner and tripped over a log. Before he could break the fall with his face, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and righted him.
Draco allowed Harry another second to crowd him before he carefully stepped away.
He shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at Harry. His eyes landed on a point just beyond the other man’s shoulder and he let out a small gasp. They were standing on a slight incline next to a glittering lake that was so still it looked like glass. There was a twisted, knotted oak tree growing out of the ground behind Harry whose branches extended over the water. The leaves caught the light of the sun and illuminated Harry’s silhouette like an image from one of his dreams.
Not that he dreamed about Potter.
Catching on to the change in Draco’s demeanor, Harry turned around and sucked in a sharp breath. “I guess we’re going to fail Muggle Studies,” he whispered, slipping a tentative hand into Draco’s.
Unsurprisingly, Draco didn’t really mind as he leaned against Harry, eventually resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.
Muggle Studies be damned, this camping trip was perfect.
Rated: PG13
Word Count: 850
Summary: Harry and Draco on a camping trip
A/N: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
That’s your tent?” an exasperated Harry asked, his green eyes growing to the size of saucers as he took in all of the equipment. “I’m not setting that up for you.”
“You don’t have to,” Draco sniffed and surreptitiously pulled out his wand, delicately flicking it in the direction of his camping gear.
Before he had a chance to utter the incantation, Harry snatched his wand out of his hand with a muttered, “Oh no you don’t.”
“You’re certainly making that a habit of yours,” Draco drawled, eyeballing the wand clutched tightly in Harry’s grasp.
Just like he had been doing all morning, Harry heaved a deep, frustrated sigh, shook his head, and grumbled under his breath. Draco was only able to make out the words, “tosser,” and “pain in my.”
After pocketing the blond’s wand, Harry stormed passed Draco and started rummaging through the layers of material and camping equipment that littered the ground.
“What are you doing?” the blond asked with his chin still in the air so he had to look down his nose at Harry.
“Looking for instructions.”
“Why?”
Harry made a noise at the back of his throat that wouldn’t have been out of place while strangling someone. “Why,” he mumbled to himself,” haphazardly shoving things out of his way. “His royal highness wants to know why I’m looking-” he stopped mid-rant, jumped to his feet, and emphatically waved a piece of paper in the air. “Aha! I found it!”
The Slytherin rolled his eyes as the other man did a happy dance, ignoring the sudden warmth that spread through his chest. “Honestly,” he sauntered over to the Gryffindor and fixed him with his fiercest glare. “Let me use my wand.”
“No,” he countered, shoving the paper under Draco’s nose. “We’re using the directions. Magic isn’t allowed.” He diverted his attention away from his former arch-nemesis, earnestly studying the sheet of paper. “A queen size bed, Draco?”
Draco was used to people-and most recently, Harry-staring at him. He did not like the way in which the other man stared at him now: like he had grown two extra heads. “Close your mouth, Potter, before you catch flies,” he bit out.
For once, Harry obliged the blond, but didn’t change his facial expression.
“Where else am I supposed to sleep?” He may have stomped his foot on the last word, but there was absolutely no way he whined.
Harry determinedly focused his gaze on the bedroll he had brought and looked back at a slightly disgruntled Draco. “A wardrobe?” he asked incredulously. “A full bathroom?”
As if the answer was completely obvious and Harry was an idiot, Draco made a sweeping gesture that encompassed his entire form.
Harry snorted, his eyebrows climbed into his hairline, but the amusement in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken or the blush on his cheeks that Draco noted with his eagle eye precision.
“We should-um-get to it,” Draco suggested, his own cheeks started to flame and his throat suddenly went dry.
“Yeah,” Harry choked out before clearing his throat. “I’ll just…” his voice trailed off as he read the rest of the instructions.
Draco knew the exact moment that Harry had reached the fine print at the bottom of the page. His eyes got impossibly wide as he let the paper fall from his clenching hands. If that wasn’t enough incentive for Draco to turn tail and run, the steely glare that Harry shot his way was. That was when all hell broke loose.
“Malfoy, you bloody wanker,” he screeched and closed the distance between them.
Draco did the Slytherin thing in that moment. He took off, running as fast as his feet could carry him.
“It can only be set up with magic,” Harry snarled as he chased after the blond.
In an effort to lose the fuming Gryffindor who was hot on his heels and could easily overtake him, Draco turned a sharp corner and tripped over a log. Before he could break the fall with his face, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and righted him.
Draco allowed Harry another second to crowd him before he carefully stepped away.
He shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at Harry. His eyes landed on a point just beyond the other man’s shoulder and he let out a small gasp. They were standing on a slight incline next to a glittering lake that was so still it looked like glass. There was a twisted, knotted oak tree growing out of the ground behind Harry whose branches extended over the water. The leaves caught the light of the sun and illuminated Harry’s silhouette like an image from one of his dreams.
Not that he dreamed about Potter.
Catching on to the change in Draco’s demeanor, Harry turned around and sucked in a sharp breath. “I guess we’re going to fail Muggle Studies,” he whispered, slipping a tentative hand into Draco’s.
Unsurprisingly, Draco didn’t really mind as he leaned against Harry, eventually resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.
Muggle Studies be damned, this camping trip was perfect.