Illicit Intimacies
Title: Illicit Intimacies
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Draco, Harry
Rating: R
Warning(s): Flangst, strong suggestion
Word count: 1045
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for twistedm who requested more of Club Coquette
Summary: Dinner conversation veers even farther from being light.
"Do you mean in public, or at the Club?"
Draco barely refrained from cringing. He never should have asked Potter that question. It made it seem as if he would be agreeable to resuming their not-a-relationship relationship. There was no way to take the words back now, however, short of Obliviating Potter.
Potter leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his fork as he considered his answer. "Both," he said eventually. "However, if I were forced to choose, I'd choose...in public."
Draco's lips parted in surprise. He never would have expected that answer. "Public?" The word came out as a mere breath of sound.
Potter nodded, his expression solemn. "Public," he repeated. "The club, while fascinating and exciting, is a fantasy, and I want something real. Substantial. An actual relationship." He reached out and clasped Draco's forearm. "Don't run."
How does he know me so well? Draco wondered, feeling anxious. He had been on the verge of bolting. He took a shaky breath, exhaled, then drew in another, calmer breath. He tugged lightly, and Potter released his arm. Draco picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. He was grateful the fine vintage didn't slosh over the rim.
"And you?"
Draco swallowed quickly and set the glass down. "Sorry?"
"Which would you prefer?" asked Potter. "Public or the club?"
His mind a chaos of racing thoughts, Draco wondered how to answer. If he should answer. Potter wanted impossible things, and it made Draco want them, too. But he knew better. Impossible things were impossible for a reason. Trying to see one another in public would result in calamity. The son of a Death Eater with magical society's golden boy? Madness.
Of course, if wizarding society at large knew what their golden boy got up to in the confines of a secret sex club...
"You're smiling," murmured Potter. "That's a good sign, yeah?"
Draco's lips turned down immediately. "No."
"No?" Potter repeated. "No to what, exactly?"
"No, as in we cannot carry on a public affair," Draco said. "It's..." He paused and shook his head. "No."
"I'm not suggesting an affair, Draco," said Potter. "We've already indulged in an affair. I'm talking about a relationship. Dinner, dates, picnics, theater and opera if that's what you'd like. Attending social events together, spending time with one another's family and friends."
Draco grew more horrified as Potter went on. "Family and friends?" he choked out.
Potter's lips quirked. "Your mother already approves of me."
"My friends don't," Draco said quickly. "For that matter, your friends despise me."
"My friends do not despise you," Potter countered. "We've all grown and matured since the war, and anyone who may still be clinging to a grudge can get bent."
Draco fought the urge to fidget and squirm. Potter's offer sounded tremendous on its surface, but there was so much more to consider.
Potter sighed and relented. "I won't press you about it any more this evening," he said.
He looked disappointed, and Draco found that he didn't enjoy being the source of Potter's disappointment. He'd spent far too many nights focused on bringing Potter pleasure; never mind that he hadn't known at the time that it was Potter he was pleasing. It hadn't mattered. Draco and his mysterious lover had dedicated themselves to fulfilling each other's every desire.
When the direction of Draco's thoughts redirected his blood supply, he took a hasty sip of wine to calm himself.
They ate in stilted silence for several moments before Potter spoke.
"Hermione works at the Ministry. She's ascending the ranks and may just become the youngest Minister of Magic in a millennium."
Draco's brow furrowed. "I know that, Potter, as does any witch or wizard in England."
"I'm making small talk," said Potter. "What of your friends? Except for Zabini, of course. I do know what he gets up to."
Draco nearly dropped his fork. His eyes narrowed on Potter. "What do you mean by that?"
It was Blaise who had introduced Draco to Club Coquette. If he discovered that Potter...no, Zee...no, Potter had engaged in the same illicit intimacies with Blaise, Draco feared he'd disgorge the contents of his stomach right here at the table.
"Zabini visits the Club from time to time," Potter replied. "You know that."
"Yes, but how do you know that?" Draco challenged. "It's meant to be an anonymous club."
"My club and my magic," Potter reminded him. "I learn to discern the magical signatures of those who pass through my wards frequently, and I sometimes recognize those same magical signatures when I encounter people in more socially acceptable environments." He paused to sip his wine before adding, "You must know I would never reveal anyone's identity. It would be the ruination of Club Coquette."
"There are always so many people there," Draco mused, more to himself than to Potter, although his dinner companion overheard him."
"They visit from all over the world," said Potter. "I dare say some some guests arrange their holidays around the club. I wonder how many of the regulars miss you."
"Sorry?" Draco asked. Potter's comment had set him back on his mental heels.
Potter's lips curled in a slow smile. "You must realize that Cinderella is a favorite among the naughty voyeurs at Club Coquette."
Draco felt heat rush to his face. "The, erm, spectators enjoyed any show they came across." He had to count himself among the spectators. He and Potter...Zee...Potter had enjoyed many a salacious display put on by other patrons of the club. Looking back, it seemed utterly surreal. Draco was not one given to such brazen exhibitionism, but the anonymity of the club had made him bold. Reckless. Wanton.
Draco cleared his throat and took a hasty gulp of wine.
"Be that as it may," said Potter, continuing the thread of the conversation, "they especially enjoyed the shows you put on. I suspect it was the sight of your long legs in that short skirt and the noises you-"
"Potter!" Draco hissed. His shoulders hunched as if he could sink under the table to escape the madness.
Potter stared at him, pupils so large there was barely any green around the edges. His voice dropped to a seductive rasp. "Spend the night with me."
Licentious Liaison
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Draco, Harry
Rating: R
Warning(s): Flangst, strong suggestion
Word count: 1045
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for twistedm who requested more of Club Coquette
Summary: Dinner conversation veers even farther from being light.
"Do you mean in public, or at the Club?"
Draco barely refrained from cringing. He never should have asked Potter that question. It made it seem as if he would be agreeable to resuming their not-a-relationship relationship. There was no way to take the words back now, however, short of Obliviating Potter.
Potter leaned back in his chair and fiddled with his fork as he considered his answer. "Both," he said eventually. "However, if I were forced to choose, I'd choose...in public."
Draco's lips parted in surprise. He never would have expected that answer. "Public?" The word came out as a mere breath of sound.
Potter nodded, his expression solemn. "Public," he repeated. "The club, while fascinating and exciting, is a fantasy, and I want something real. Substantial. An actual relationship." He reached out and clasped Draco's forearm. "Don't run."
How does he know me so well? Draco wondered, feeling anxious. He had been on the verge of bolting. He took a shaky breath, exhaled, then drew in another, calmer breath. He tugged lightly, and Potter released his arm. Draco picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. He was grateful the fine vintage didn't slosh over the rim.
"And you?"
Draco swallowed quickly and set the glass down. "Sorry?"
"Which would you prefer?" asked Potter. "Public or the club?"
His mind a chaos of racing thoughts, Draco wondered how to answer. If he should answer. Potter wanted impossible things, and it made Draco want them, too. But he knew better. Impossible things were impossible for a reason. Trying to see one another in public would result in calamity. The son of a Death Eater with magical society's golden boy? Madness.
Of course, if wizarding society at large knew what their golden boy got up to in the confines of a secret sex club...
"You're smiling," murmured Potter. "That's a good sign, yeah?"
Draco's lips turned down immediately. "No."
"No?" Potter repeated. "No to what, exactly?"
"No, as in we cannot carry on a public affair," Draco said. "It's..." He paused and shook his head. "No."
"I'm not suggesting an affair, Draco," said Potter. "We've already indulged in an affair. I'm talking about a relationship. Dinner, dates, picnics, theater and opera if that's what you'd like. Attending social events together, spending time with one another's family and friends."
Draco grew more horrified as Potter went on. "Family and friends?" he choked out.
Potter's lips quirked. "Your mother already approves of me."
"My friends don't," Draco said quickly. "For that matter, your friends despise me."
"My friends do not despise you," Potter countered. "We've all grown and matured since the war, and anyone who may still be clinging to a grudge can get bent."
Draco fought the urge to fidget and squirm. Potter's offer sounded tremendous on its surface, but there was so much more to consider.
Potter sighed and relented. "I won't press you about it any more this evening," he said.
He looked disappointed, and Draco found that he didn't enjoy being the source of Potter's disappointment. He'd spent far too many nights focused on bringing Potter pleasure; never mind that he hadn't known at the time that it was Potter he was pleasing. It hadn't mattered. Draco and his mysterious lover had dedicated themselves to fulfilling each other's every desire.
When the direction of Draco's thoughts redirected his blood supply, he took a hasty sip of wine to calm himself.
They ate in stilted silence for several moments before Potter spoke.
"Hermione works at the Ministry. She's ascending the ranks and may just become the youngest Minister of Magic in a millennium."
Draco's brow furrowed. "I know that, Potter, as does any witch or wizard in England."
"I'm making small talk," said Potter. "What of your friends? Except for Zabini, of course. I do know what he gets up to."
Draco nearly dropped his fork. His eyes narrowed on Potter. "What do you mean by that?"
It was Blaise who had introduced Draco to Club Coquette. If he discovered that Potter...no, Zee...no, Potter had engaged in the same illicit intimacies with Blaise, Draco feared he'd disgorge the contents of his stomach right here at the table.
"Zabini visits the Club from time to time," Potter replied. "You know that."
"Yes, but how do you know that?" Draco challenged. "It's meant to be an anonymous club."
"My club and my magic," Potter reminded him. "I learn to discern the magical signatures of those who pass through my wards frequently, and I sometimes recognize those same magical signatures when I encounter people in more socially acceptable environments." He paused to sip his wine before adding, "You must know I would never reveal anyone's identity. It would be the ruination of Club Coquette."
"There are always so many people there," Draco mused, more to himself than to Potter, although his dinner companion overheard him."
"They visit from all over the world," said Potter. "I dare say some some guests arrange their holidays around the club. I wonder how many of the regulars miss you."
"Sorry?" Draco asked. Potter's comment had set him back on his mental heels.
Potter's lips curled in a slow smile. "You must realize that Cinderella is a favorite among the naughty voyeurs at Club Coquette."
Draco felt heat rush to his face. "The, erm, spectators enjoyed any show they came across." He had to count himself among the spectators. He and Potter...Zee...Potter had enjoyed many a salacious display put on by other patrons of the club. Looking back, it seemed utterly surreal. Draco was not one given to such brazen exhibitionism, but the anonymity of the club had made him bold. Reckless. Wanton.
Draco cleared his throat and took a hasty gulp of wine.
"Be that as it may," said Potter, continuing the thread of the conversation, "they especially enjoyed the shows you put on. I suspect it was the sight of your long legs in that short skirt and the noises you-"
"Potter!" Draco hissed. His shoulders hunched as if he could sink under the table to escape the madness.
Potter stared at him, pupils so large there was barely any green around the edges. His voice dropped to a seductive rasp. "Spend the night with me."
Licentious Liaison