2013 Smoochfest fic: Marriage Farce
Author/Artist LJ Name: enchanted_jae
Prompt Number: #21 ~ Harry's making up for his lost childhood with wild partying. Draco's a brooding alcoholic mess. They wake up hung over and stuck in a marriage bond.
Title: Marriage Farce
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco wakes up wedded, bedded and screwed.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Snark, bickering, death threats. Oh, and implied sex.
Epilogue compliant? Not at all!
Word Count: 2525
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my fabulous beta, spicykittins!
Draco woke up without opening his eyes. He could already tell the room was too bloody bright. His mouth tasted like sweaty Quidditch gear, and his head was pounding. Clearly, he'd had too much to drink the night before. Again.
Draco wondered where he was. He was in a bed, obviously, and he was pleasantly warm. There was another warm body spooned up behind him. Draco frowned, wondering whom he'd ended up having a one-off with.
Draco recalled going to one of his favorite clubs. He had been shocked when Potter had shown up. Although Potter had gained a reputation for being a partier and a player, he and Draco seldom crossed paths. Draco had been harboring an unfortunate fancy for Potter ever since Potter had heroically saved him from the Fiendfyre. It was what had compelled Draco to approach Potter in the club and offer to buy him a pint. Surprisingly, Potter had accepted. Even more surprising was the fact that the two of them had sat at a table, taking turns buying drinks while they critiqued the other blokes on display at the club. Potter kept pointing out gingers he thought Draco should go home with, and Draco had retaliated by daring Potter to shag the most odious bloke he could find for him.
After that, things became blurry in Draco's memory. He could only lie here now and hope that Potter hadn't convinced him to have sex with a ginger. Considering that his arse was as tender as his head, Draco knew he'd engaged in some rather vigorous shagging last night.
Draco pried one eye open and managed to refrain from groaning as the morning light assaulted his retina. There was an arm draped over his torso, and Draco forced himself to focus on it. The hairs on said arm were dark, not ginger, and Draco sighed in relief. The arm around him tightened, and warm breath huffed against Draco's nape. He shivered in spite of himself, and his prick twitched in a half-hearted response. The bloke behind him shifted, and Draco felt a hard cock prod his hip. While another shag interested Draco, he was certain neither his head nor his stomach was up to such activity.
"Not now," Draco grunted. "Need hangover potion." Even mumbling was an effort.
A husky chuckle sounded from behind him, scattering more goosebumps across Draco's skin. Damn, but he did love it when a bloke laughed like that.
"Too bad for you, I drank the last of my hangover potion before you woke up."
Both of Draco's eyes flew wide open, in spite of the dastardly sunlight. "Potter?" he prompted, cringing a little. There was still hope he was wrong.
"I prefer the way you moaned my name last night."
"Fuck," Draco breathed, closing his eyes in hopes of waking up again. Alone.
"There was quite a lot of that last night, too," came Potter's cheerful response. "Had I known you were such a passionate beast in bed, I would have been following you around Hogwarts for an entirely different reason."
"Please leave," Draco begged.
"This is my bedroom."
"Then I'll leave," said Draco. He tried to sit up, but the arm around him stiffened, preventing Draco from moving. He opened his mouth to berate Potter when something caught his eye. A ring glimmered on the third finger of Potter's hand. His left hand.
"You neglected to tell me you're married, Potter," Draco bit out.
"I'm not married," Potter said, propping himself up on his elbow.
"You've a ring on your finger."
Potter removed his hand from Draco's person and raised it. "I'll be damned," he said.
Draco rolled to his back and glared at his bedmate, but Potter's expression was genuinely perplexed. Draco brought his hands up to shield his eyes from the fierce sunlight. He gasped and sat up straight when he saw a matching ring on his own left hand.
"Potter, please tell me we did not get married last night," moaned Draco. When Potter didn't immediately respond, Draco risked a glance at him. Potter's frown of confusion was not encouraging. "Don't you remember what happened?" snapped Draco. "Think, Potter! This is important!"
"I recall buying one another drinks at the club and goading one another about which blokes to take home," said Potter. His brow furrowed as he thought. "We talked about marriage," he said.
"We did?!"
Potter nodded. "Yes, but in a conversational manner," he replied. "You were complaining about how your parents have been pressuring you to marry, and I told you that I'll never be able to get married without worrying that the other person is just attracted to me for my fame." He slumped back against the pillows and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Damn it, I shouldn't have had so much to drink," he muttered.
Blurry, half-formed, memories floated to the surface of Draco's muddled mind. "I said I'd never marry you for your fame," he mused. "And you said-"
"That you could thwart your parents by marrying me," finished Potter. He had the nerve to laugh. "By Godric, we must have really gone and done it!"
"Potter, this isn't funny!"
"Lighten up, Malfoy," said Potter. "It's as easily undone as done."
Draco's mouth fell open. He closed it again and clenched his jaw as he resisted the urge to punch Potter in the face. "Potter," he said, "you are aware that marriage is a magically binding contract, yes?"
Potter's grin fell. "What do you mean?"
"Have you ever heard of a divorce among the witches and wizards you know?"
"Well, no," Potter admitted.
"That is because divorce is simply not done!" Draco hissed. He winced again as the tension caused his head to pound even more painfully.
"There must be something we can do," Potter said, looking worried now. "An annulment, perhaps?"
"An annulment would be possible if we had not consummated the marriage," Draco replied wearily. Fuck, he was so screwed.
"We certainly bolloxed that up, didn't we?"
Draco turned his head just enough to glare at Potter. "How can you be so blasè about this?" he demanded.
Potter sighed and settled back against the pillows. "I don't think it's quite sunk in yet," he said.
Draco flopped back on the pillows, too. "My parents are going to kill me," he said. "No, first they will disinherit me, and then they will kill me. I shall be buried in an unmarked grave, my spirit doomed to wander the earth, searching for a name."
Potter had the gall to laugh. "Your name is Potter now," he said.
"No, it isn't!" snapped Draco, bristling at the insult.
"I hope you don't expect me to go through life as Harry Malfoy."
"I'll have you know the Malfoy name is as old and honorable as they come, Potter," Draco seethed. He sat up once more, fighting the urge to gag. He needed a hangover potion, and he needed it now. Draco cleared his throat and summoned his house-elf. "Norby!"
The little house-elf appeared and bowed towards Draco. "You is needing something, Master Potfoy?" he asked.
Draco felt his jaw drop. "Potfoy?!" he cried. Beside him, Potter erupted into laughter again.
"Which of us came up with that awful moniker?" he snorted.
Draco took a deep breath and turned to his house-elf. "Norby, I want you to kill me," he said.
"S-sir?" squeaked the elf, tugging on one of his ears.
Potter leaned over Draco, causing Draco's body to go on full alert. "My husband needs some hangover potion, Norby," said Potter. "Would you please fetch some for him?"
"Yes sir, Mister Potfoy, sir," babbled Norby. He vanished with a pop, leaving Draco alone with Potter once more.
Potter took Draco's chin in hand and tugged him into a long, deep, kiss. Draco's toes curled beneath the sheets, while his cock rose up straight and created a tent under the covers.
Potter broke the kiss. "Good morning, Draco Potfoy," he murmured. "Do you still want to die?"
"No," breathed Draco. He blinked and tried to rein in his scattered wits. Draco frowned. "I am going to kill you instead."
Potter's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't move away. Instead, he sought out Draco's cock beneath the bedding. "Would a brilliant shag change your mind?" he asked, giving Draco a slow stroke.
"Mm," Draco hummed in response. He lifted his hips, pushing himself into Potter's hand. A bloke could get used to this. Maybe marriage to Potter-
"Here is the potion you is needing, Master Potfoy!"
Potter removed his hand and scooted away, while Draco cursed and snatched the potion from Norby. He downed it one gulp, hoping his obedient little house-elf had brought poison instead of a hangover remedy. Draco immediately felt better. The pain in his head receded, and his stomach was no longer threatening to disgorge what remained of last night's alcohol.
"Is you be needing anything else, Master Potfoy?"
Draco's temper boiled over. "I be needing, rather, I demand you stop calling me-"
"That will be all, Norby," Potter interrupted. "Thank you."
Norby beamed at Potter, and then had the audacity to wink at Draco before he disappeared.
Potter pressed close to Draco again. "Where were we?" he asked, reaching for Draco's cock once more.
Draco tried to scowl. "I was plotting your messy demise-oh, Potter!
Draco felt better after a shag and a shower. And, what a shag it had been. Potter had sought out every one of Draco's erogenous zones and licked, bit, sucked, and stroked each one until Draco thought he'd die from pure pleasure. He had wobbled into the shower afterward and emerged to find some of his own clean clothing waiting for him in the bedroom. His wand was nowhere to be found.
Draco followed his nose to the kitchen, where he accosted Potter. "Where is my wand?" he demanded.
"Sit down and eat something," Potter instructed. "You'll be less grouchy."
Draco would have torn a strip off of Potter for his cheek, but his stomach chose that moment to growl. He sat down and began filling a plate.
"Your wand is in my bureau," said Potter, taking the seat across from Draco. "I didn't want you to leave before we had the chance to talk."
"What is there to talk about?" grumbled Draco. "We got pissed last night and got married; now we're stuck with one another until death do us part."
"Still planning to kill me then, are you?"
Draco glanced up. Potter appeared more amused than worried. "It would certainly solve my problem," said Draco.
Potter just chuckled and shook his head. "Let's think this through," he suggested. "Surely, there must be some loophole we can use to dissolve the marriage. We were drunk, for one thing. Doesn't our inebriated state invalidate the marriage?"
"No, Potter," sighed Draco. "We entered into it of our own free will, inebriated or not."
"We're both blokes," said Potter. "Is it legal for two men to marry one another?"
"Yes, Potter."
"Can we claim one, or both of us, was under Imperio?"
"That's not a bad idea," said Draco. "I'll claim you used Imperious on me, and you can go to Azkaban for casting an Unforgivable."
"Why do I have to be the one to go to Azkaban?!"
"Because I'm quite certain this was your ruddy ridiculous idea in the first place!"
Potter sighed and slumped back in his chair. "Okay, neither one of us is going to declare the other used Imperious. What other options are there? Aside from killing me, that is," he added, frowning at Draco.
"You could fling yourself into the Thames and leave me a grieving, wealthy widower," suggested Draco. "Rumor has it you're loaded."
"I am loaded," growled Potter, "and you aren't getting your greedy hands on my vault."
"I'm your spouse," argued Draco. "What's yours is now mine."
Potter lunged to his feet and leaned aggressively over the table. "I thought we were trying to get out of this marriage farce!" he yelled.
Draco surged upright, too. "I told you, there's no getting out of it!"
They glared at one another until their mouths met in an angry kiss.
Draco was draped over Potter in a boneless, half-clothed, heap. They had made it as far as the sofa before tearing at one another in a fit of passion. Draco had bottomed from the top, riding Potter until both of them climaxed. He needed another shower, but he doubted he could walk at the moment.
"At least married sex isn't as boring as I'd feared," Potter said. His breath stirred Draco's hair and sent a delicious shiver up his spine.
"At least you can cook," Draco countered. His insult lacked any sting. Draco was simply too well-shagged to harbor much animosity.
"We, ah, we'll need to decide where to live," Potter ventured.
Draco tried to frown. "I'm not living in this manky flat," he said. In truth, he hadn't seen much of it, but he felt some sort of protest was in order.
"I'm not moving into Malfoy Manor with your parents."
"We'll start looking for houses tomorrow," said Draco.
A warm hand cupped his arse and gave it a squeeze. "You'll need to curb your drinking," Potter said in a gruff voice.
"I'll curb my drinking when you curb your wild partying," Draco groused. "No Malfoy is going to be disgracing the family by gracing the front page of the Prophet several days a week."
"Don't you mean Potfoy?" taunted Potter.
"Salazar's sagging sac," muttered Draco. "If nothing else, we need to do something about our appalling choice of surname. That's one mistake we can fix, at least."
"Malter sounds just as horrid," Potter said.
"I was thinking of hyphenating our names," said Draco. "We could change our names to Draco and Harry Potter-Malfoy." Draco hoped he sounded casual and not cagey.
"Why not Draco and Harry Malfoy-Potter?"
"The Potter name should come first, don't you agree?" Draco asked with feigned sweetness.
"Right," Potter nodded. "Wait, why do I get the feeling you're getting a leg over me?"
"Don't you think about anything but sex?" murmured Draco, wiggling a bit atop his spouse in a deliberate attempt to waylay Potter's line of thought. The hand on Draco's arse tightened an instant before his world abruptly shifted. Draco found himself flat on his back on the sofa with Potter crouched between his legs.
"Sex?" Potter repeated, lowering his head to nibble on the sensitive skin of Draco's throat. "Don't mind if I do..."
Draco didn't put up a fight. After all, he had the rest of his life to pick his battles with Harry.
Marriage Farce 2
Cross-posted to hd_smoochfest
Prompt Number: #21 ~ Harry's making up for his lost childhood with wild partying. Draco's a brooding alcoholic mess. They wake up hung over and stuck in a marriage bond.
Title: Marriage Farce
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco wakes up wedded, bedded and screwed.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Snark, bickering, death threats. Oh, and implied sex.
Epilogue compliant? Not at all!
Word Count: 2525
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my fabulous beta, spicykittins!
Draco woke up without opening his eyes. He could already tell the room was too bloody bright. His mouth tasted like sweaty Quidditch gear, and his head was pounding. Clearly, he'd had too much to drink the night before. Again.
Draco wondered where he was. He was in a bed, obviously, and he was pleasantly warm. There was another warm body spooned up behind him. Draco frowned, wondering whom he'd ended up having a one-off with.
Draco recalled going to one of his favorite clubs. He had been shocked when Potter had shown up. Although Potter had gained a reputation for being a partier and a player, he and Draco seldom crossed paths. Draco had been harboring an unfortunate fancy for Potter ever since Potter had heroically saved him from the Fiendfyre. It was what had compelled Draco to approach Potter in the club and offer to buy him a pint. Surprisingly, Potter had accepted. Even more surprising was the fact that the two of them had sat at a table, taking turns buying drinks while they critiqued the other blokes on display at the club. Potter kept pointing out gingers he thought Draco should go home with, and Draco had retaliated by daring Potter to shag the most odious bloke he could find for him.
After that, things became blurry in Draco's memory. He could only lie here now and hope that Potter hadn't convinced him to have sex with a ginger. Considering that his arse was as tender as his head, Draco knew he'd engaged in some rather vigorous shagging last night.
Draco pried one eye open and managed to refrain from groaning as the morning light assaulted his retina. There was an arm draped over his torso, and Draco forced himself to focus on it. The hairs on said arm were dark, not ginger, and Draco sighed in relief. The arm around him tightened, and warm breath huffed against Draco's nape. He shivered in spite of himself, and his prick twitched in a half-hearted response. The bloke behind him shifted, and Draco felt a hard cock prod his hip. While another shag interested Draco, he was certain neither his head nor his stomach was up to such activity.
"Not now," Draco grunted. "Need hangover potion." Even mumbling was an effort.
A husky chuckle sounded from behind him, scattering more goosebumps across Draco's skin. Damn, but he did love it when a bloke laughed like that.
"Too bad for you, I drank the last of my hangover potion before you woke up."
Both of Draco's eyes flew wide open, in spite of the dastardly sunlight. "Potter?" he prompted, cringing a little. There was still hope he was wrong.
"I prefer the way you moaned my name last night."
"Fuck," Draco breathed, closing his eyes in hopes of waking up again. Alone.
"There was quite a lot of that last night, too," came Potter's cheerful response. "Had I known you were such a passionate beast in bed, I would have been following you around Hogwarts for an entirely different reason."
"Please leave," Draco begged.
"This is my bedroom."
"Then I'll leave," said Draco. He tried to sit up, but the arm around him stiffened, preventing Draco from moving. He opened his mouth to berate Potter when something caught his eye. A ring glimmered on the third finger of Potter's hand. His left hand.
"You neglected to tell me you're married, Potter," Draco bit out.
"I'm not married," Potter said, propping himself up on his elbow.
"You've a ring on your finger."
Potter removed his hand from Draco's person and raised it. "I'll be damned," he said.
Draco rolled to his back and glared at his bedmate, but Potter's expression was genuinely perplexed. Draco brought his hands up to shield his eyes from the fierce sunlight. He gasped and sat up straight when he saw a matching ring on his own left hand.
"Potter, please tell me we did not get married last night," moaned Draco. When Potter didn't immediately respond, Draco risked a glance at him. Potter's frown of confusion was not encouraging. "Don't you remember what happened?" snapped Draco. "Think, Potter! This is important!"
"I recall buying one another drinks at the club and goading one another about which blokes to take home," said Potter. His brow furrowed as he thought. "We talked about marriage," he said.
"We did?!"
Potter nodded. "Yes, but in a conversational manner," he replied. "You were complaining about how your parents have been pressuring you to marry, and I told you that I'll never be able to get married without worrying that the other person is just attracted to me for my fame." He slumped back against the pillows and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Damn it, I shouldn't have had so much to drink," he muttered.
Blurry, half-formed, memories floated to the surface of Draco's muddled mind. "I said I'd never marry you for your fame," he mused. "And you said-"
"That you could thwart your parents by marrying me," finished Potter. He had the nerve to laugh. "By Godric, we must have really gone and done it!"
"Potter, this isn't funny!"
"Lighten up, Malfoy," said Potter. "It's as easily undone as done."
Draco's mouth fell open. He closed it again and clenched his jaw as he resisted the urge to punch Potter in the face. "Potter," he said, "you are aware that marriage is a magically binding contract, yes?"
Potter's grin fell. "What do you mean?"
"Have you ever heard of a divorce among the witches and wizards you know?"
"Well, no," Potter admitted.
"That is because divorce is simply not done!" Draco hissed. He winced again as the tension caused his head to pound even more painfully.
"There must be something we can do," Potter said, looking worried now. "An annulment, perhaps?"
"An annulment would be possible if we had not consummated the marriage," Draco replied wearily. Fuck, he was so screwed.
"We certainly bolloxed that up, didn't we?"
Draco turned his head just enough to glare at Potter. "How can you be so blasè about this?" he demanded.
Potter sighed and settled back against the pillows. "I don't think it's quite sunk in yet," he said.
Draco flopped back on the pillows, too. "My parents are going to kill me," he said. "No, first they will disinherit me, and then they will kill me. I shall be buried in an unmarked grave, my spirit doomed to wander the earth, searching for a name."
Potter had the gall to laugh. "Your name is Potter now," he said.
"No, it isn't!" snapped Draco, bristling at the insult.
"I hope you don't expect me to go through life as Harry Malfoy."
"I'll have you know the Malfoy name is as old and honorable as they come, Potter," Draco seethed. He sat up once more, fighting the urge to gag. He needed a hangover potion, and he needed it now. Draco cleared his throat and summoned his house-elf. "Norby!"
The little house-elf appeared and bowed towards Draco. "You is needing something, Master Potfoy?" he asked.
Draco felt his jaw drop. "Potfoy?!" he cried. Beside him, Potter erupted into laughter again.
"Which of us came up with that awful moniker?" he snorted.
Draco took a deep breath and turned to his house-elf. "Norby, I want you to kill me," he said.
"S-sir?" squeaked the elf, tugging on one of his ears.
Potter leaned over Draco, causing Draco's body to go on full alert. "My husband needs some hangover potion, Norby," said Potter. "Would you please fetch some for him?"
"Yes sir, Mister Potfoy, sir," babbled Norby. He vanished with a pop, leaving Draco alone with Potter once more.
Potter took Draco's chin in hand and tugged him into a long, deep, kiss. Draco's toes curled beneath the sheets, while his cock rose up straight and created a tent under the covers.
Potter broke the kiss. "Good morning, Draco Potfoy," he murmured. "Do you still want to die?"
"No," breathed Draco. He blinked and tried to rein in his scattered wits. Draco frowned. "I am going to kill you instead."
Potter's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't move away. Instead, he sought out Draco's cock beneath the bedding. "Would a brilliant shag change your mind?" he asked, giving Draco a slow stroke.
"Mm," Draco hummed in response. He lifted his hips, pushing himself into Potter's hand. A bloke could get used to this. Maybe marriage to Potter-
"Here is the potion you is needing, Master Potfoy!"
Potter removed his hand and scooted away, while Draco cursed and snatched the potion from Norby. He downed it one gulp, hoping his obedient little house-elf had brought poison instead of a hangover remedy. Draco immediately felt better. The pain in his head receded, and his stomach was no longer threatening to disgorge what remained of last night's alcohol.
"Is you be needing anything else, Master Potfoy?"
Draco's temper boiled over. "I be needing, rather, I demand you stop calling me-"
"That will be all, Norby," Potter interrupted. "Thank you."
Norby beamed at Potter, and then had the audacity to wink at Draco before he disappeared.
Potter pressed close to Draco again. "Where were we?" he asked, reaching for Draco's cock once more.
Draco tried to scowl. "I was plotting your messy demise-oh, Potter!
Draco felt better after a shag and a shower. And, what a shag it had been. Potter had sought out every one of Draco's erogenous zones and licked, bit, sucked, and stroked each one until Draco thought he'd die from pure pleasure. He had wobbled into the shower afterward and emerged to find some of his own clean clothing waiting for him in the bedroom. His wand was nowhere to be found.
Draco followed his nose to the kitchen, where he accosted Potter. "Where is my wand?" he demanded.
"Sit down and eat something," Potter instructed. "You'll be less grouchy."
Draco would have torn a strip off of Potter for his cheek, but his stomach chose that moment to growl. He sat down and began filling a plate.
"Your wand is in my bureau," said Potter, taking the seat across from Draco. "I didn't want you to leave before we had the chance to talk."
"What is there to talk about?" grumbled Draco. "We got pissed last night and got married; now we're stuck with one another until death do us part."
"Still planning to kill me then, are you?"
Draco glanced up. Potter appeared more amused than worried. "It would certainly solve my problem," said Draco.
Potter just chuckled and shook his head. "Let's think this through," he suggested. "Surely, there must be some loophole we can use to dissolve the marriage. We were drunk, for one thing. Doesn't our inebriated state invalidate the marriage?"
"No, Potter," sighed Draco. "We entered into it of our own free will, inebriated or not."
"We're both blokes," said Potter. "Is it legal for two men to marry one another?"
"Yes, Potter."
"Can we claim one, or both of us, was under Imperio?"
"That's not a bad idea," said Draco. "I'll claim you used Imperious on me, and you can go to Azkaban for casting an Unforgivable."
"Why do I have to be the one to go to Azkaban?!"
"Because I'm quite certain this was your ruddy ridiculous idea in the first place!"
Potter sighed and slumped back in his chair. "Okay, neither one of us is going to declare the other used Imperious. What other options are there? Aside from killing me, that is," he added, frowning at Draco.
"You could fling yourself into the Thames and leave me a grieving, wealthy widower," suggested Draco. "Rumor has it you're loaded."
"I am loaded," growled Potter, "and you aren't getting your greedy hands on my vault."
"I'm your spouse," argued Draco. "What's yours is now mine."
Potter lunged to his feet and leaned aggressively over the table. "I thought we were trying to get out of this marriage farce!" he yelled.
Draco surged upright, too. "I told you, there's no getting out of it!"
They glared at one another until their mouths met in an angry kiss.
Draco was draped over Potter in a boneless, half-clothed, heap. They had made it as far as the sofa before tearing at one another in a fit of passion. Draco had bottomed from the top, riding Potter until both of them climaxed. He needed another shower, but he doubted he could walk at the moment.
"At least married sex isn't as boring as I'd feared," Potter said. His breath stirred Draco's hair and sent a delicious shiver up his spine.
"At least you can cook," Draco countered. His insult lacked any sting. Draco was simply too well-shagged to harbor much animosity.
"We, ah, we'll need to decide where to live," Potter ventured.
Draco tried to frown. "I'm not living in this manky flat," he said. In truth, he hadn't seen much of it, but he felt some sort of protest was in order.
"I'm not moving into Malfoy Manor with your parents."
"We'll start looking for houses tomorrow," said Draco.
A warm hand cupped his arse and gave it a squeeze. "You'll need to curb your drinking," Potter said in a gruff voice.
"I'll curb my drinking when you curb your wild partying," Draco groused. "No Malfoy is going to be disgracing the family by gracing the front page of the Prophet several days a week."
"Don't you mean Potfoy?" taunted Potter.
"Salazar's sagging sac," muttered Draco. "If nothing else, we need to do something about our appalling choice of surname. That's one mistake we can fix, at least."
"Malter sounds just as horrid," Potter said.
"I was thinking of hyphenating our names," said Draco. "We could change our names to Draco and Harry Potter-Malfoy." Draco hoped he sounded casual and not cagey.
"Why not Draco and Harry Malfoy-Potter?"
"The Potter name should come first, don't you agree?" Draco asked with feigned sweetness.
"Right," Potter nodded. "Wait, why do I get the feeling you're getting a leg over me?"
"Don't you think about anything but sex?" murmured Draco, wiggling a bit atop his spouse in a deliberate attempt to waylay Potter's line of thought. The hand on Draco's arse tightened an instant before his world abruptly shifted. Draco found himself flat on his back on the sofa with Potter crouched between his legs.
"Sex?" Potter repeated, lowering his head to nibble on the sensitive skin of Draco's throat. "Don't mind if I do..."
Draco didn't put up a fight. After all, he had the rest of his life to pick his battles with Harry.
Marriage Farce 2
Cross-posted to hd_smoochfest