Draco's Elf [Harry/Draco - PG-13 - 2300]
Title: Draco’s Elf
Author: leontinabowie
Pairing: Harry/Draco (past Draco/Theo and Harry/Terry)
Prompt: Draco's Christmas Eve appears to be full of odd surprises (either that, or someone left a drunk Gryffindor at his door).
Word Count: 2300
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Mentions of past infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), cross-dressing
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Enjoy!
Summary: Draco is miserable and set in his routine, until a drunk Potter appears at his door on Christmas Eve.
Draco had a set way of doing things.
He would take his dinner at seven, have all the dishes washed by half past, be out of the shower at eight, and then spend two hours going over his work notes. At ten, Draco would moisturise, spray the bedroom with lavender oil, change into his pyjamas, and lay in bed with a book until he was ready to sleep at eleven. Draco liked order, and was very fond of his routine.
So when there was loud knocking on his door with only ten minutes to go until eleven, Draco wasn’t too happy. He hoped if he ignored it then the person would go away, but the knocking only got louder.
Grumbling under his breath about inconsiderate people, Draco pulled on a dressing gown and went downstairs. He opened the door with the intention of yelling at whoever it was, but when he saw who was there he stopped in his tracks.
Harry Potter was stood on his doorstep! And not just any old Potter, but a Potter who was dressed like a Muggle Christmas elf - a sexy, female one at that. The green velvet dress fell to the top of Potter’s thighs where the fabric was cut in a zig zag pattern on the hemline, and the collar was lined with white fur. With the dress, Potter wore white and green striped socks, and ankle boots which looked to be made out of a mass of white fluff. Potter’s socks came to just above his knees, and Draco couldn’t help but stare at the bit of thigh which was left exposed above them.
Luckily, Potter didn’t seem to notice Draco staring.
“Malfoy?” he asked, bewildered. “What are you doing in my house?”
It was then that Draco noticed Potter’s eyes - slightly red, and glazed over - and the way he swayed slightly on the spot. Blind drunk, Potter was.
“This is my home, Potter,” Draco said with a sigh; he was supposed to be asleep by now.
“No,” Potter retorted, shaking his head multiple times. “Blaise and Ginny said they were taking me home, and they brought me here.”
Draco was going to punch Blaise when he saw him next. Blaise had been telling Draco for the last year that he needed to loosen up, despite Draco’s insistence that he didn’t want to; that only prompted Blaise to pull stunts like this.
“This is my home,” Draco said again. “You can come in to Floo to your house if you want.”
Potter nodded, stepping through the doorway and nearly stumbling over in the process. He latched onto Draco to stop from falling, his breath smelling fruity and sweet from too many cocktails.
“Why are you dressed like that, anyway?” Draco asked as he followed Potter’s unsteady path down the hallway. He couldn’t help but notice that if he looked at a certain angle, he could just make out black lace around Potter’s arse.
The thought of Potter in lacy underwear suddenly made Draco feel very hot, and he pointedly cast his gaze at the back of Potter’s head.
“It’s Christmas Eve!” Potter declared, stopping suddenly and spinning around - which, naturally, made him crash into the wall. “Didn’t you know it’s nearly Christmas, Draco?”
Draco hadn’t known. Or he did, but he hadn’t thought anything to it because he didn’t see why it mattered. Last Christmas Eve had been particularly horrible, and now Draco would rather treat it like any other day.
It was only when Potter was giggling at Floo Powder falling through his fingers - marring Draco’s perfectly clean carpets - that a thought occurred to Draco.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be using the Floo in this state,” Draco murmured, snatching the Floo Powder jar away from Potter. “Salazar knows where you’ll end up.”
Alright,” Potter said, looking at Draco with innocent curiosity.
Draco could always Apparate Potter home.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“London,” Potter answered promptly.
“Where in London?” Draco pressed, using the silence before Potter’s answer to visualise the wonderful way it would feel when his fist slammed into Blaise’s face.
“In a flat,” Potter replied slowly, furrowing his brow as he thought about the question.
Great; Draco couldn’t take Potter home if he didn’t know where he was going. He could always just kick Potter out and leave him to make his own way home, but who knew what could happen to Potter in the state he was in - especially because Draco was sure the only people out this late on Christmas Eve were vagrants and perverts, and sending Potter out in a dress would attract attention from the worst of them.
“Okay, Potter,” Draco said with a reluctant sigh. “You’re going to stay with me for tonight, and you can go home in the morning when you’re sober.”
Potter’s arms were around him before Draco could even realise that Potter had moved.
“You’re so nice, Draco,” Potter announced tearfully. “You’re like starlight in the darkness.”
Draco patted Potter’s back awkwardly. “Erm, thank you? I think. Do you want to go to bed? I think you should go to bed.”
Potter released Draco just as suddenly as he had hugged him.
“But it’s nearly Christmas!” Potter gasped. “We should make mince pies.”
“Why?” Draco questioned in bewilderment.
“That’s what the Muggles leave out for Santa,” Potter explained seriously, nodding rapidly. “You’ve done nothing else for Christmas.”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Santa doesn’t exist, and I don’t care much for silly Muggle traditions.”
“But Christmas is there to be fun! Let’s go make mince pies.”
Potter grabbed Draco’s wrists and promptly pulled him down the hallway.
“You’re not even going to the kitchen,” Draco pointed out with a roll of his eyes.
Drunk people were like small children; they were exhausting. It was one of the many reasons he declined whenever Blaise invited him out.
“If we make mince pies, I’m going to be the one doing it,” Draco said once they finally reached the kitchen. “I’m not having you burning down my house.”
“If your house burnt down it would be a shame,” Potter said sadly.
“Yes, it would,” Draco agreed.
Draco was supposed to be in bed now, not looking through his drawers for his grandmother’s mince pie recipe. He Summoned the ingredients he needed - Theo’s mincemeat from last year had been left behind when Draco threw the rest of his things out, but it was still in date - and tossed most of them into a mixing bowl.
“Can I mix it?” Potter asked hopefully, from where he was sat on Draco’s table swinging his legs. Draco had almost forgotten he was there.
“Go ahead,” Draco said, sitting back and watching as Potter shoved his hands in the bowl.
“Aunt Petunia never let me do this,” Potter said. “She only let Dudley do it, and he got all the presents as well. Dudley’s nice now. Have you met him?”
Draco shook his head.
Potter broke into a fit of giggles. “Uncle Vernon bought Dudley the wrong Action Man once, so Dudley stepped on his foot so hard he broke Uncle Vernon’s toe.”
Draco failed to see the humour in the story, but maybe that was because he was distracted by the flour on Potter’s nose. Theo used to light up the kitchen when he baked - not so much when Draco walked in on him shagging some ex-Hufflepuff twink over the table - but Potter seemed to bring a sense of joy that Theo had never managed.
Draco quickly pulled the bowl from Potter to distract himself, and set the pastry dough into tins. He added the mincemeat and the pastry topping, and set the pies under a heating charm to cook.
“You’re very pretty, Draco,” Potter commented lightly, and when Draco turned he saw that Potter was looking at a photo of him on the wall. “Terry was pretty, too, but not on the inside.”
Potter tapped his chest and pouted - until the clock chimed as it did every hour.
“It’s Christmas!” Potter announced, beaming.
And then he crossed the room and kissed Draco square on the lips.
“Potter?” Draco asked, alarmed, even though the kiss had left him feeling dizzy - in a good way.
“It’s Christmas!” Potter said again, as though it was an obvious reason for kissing Draco. “That’s what people do when the clock turns twelve.”
Draco sighed, yet again. “That’s New Year’s you’re thinking of.”
Draco tried hard not to feel disappointed. What had his life become if he was disappointed that a drunk boy only kissed him because he had gotten his holiday traditions mixed up?
“You have nice lips,” Potter commented, pressing a finger against his own. They looked rather red and plump, and entirely kissable.
“Well the heating charm will wear off when they’re cooked,” Draco said, unable to stand the tension. “I need to go to bed. The spare room is the first door on the right when you go up the stairs.”
That should have been that, but Draco had only been in bed ten minutes when he heard a smash from somewhere outside. He chose to ignore it, but five minutes later Potter was running across his room with an arm full of tinsel.
“Where did that come from?” Draco asked - he certainly didn’t own any tinsel. Then he remembered the sound of glass breaking. “Did you break into the neighbour’s house?!”
Potter nodded, a sneaky grin gracing his face. “Your house is so dull! Decorate with me, Draco.”
Potter jumped up to swing some gold tinsel around the lampshade on the ceiling, giving Draco a rather nice glimpse of Potter’s thighs and those damn lacy knickers.
He only realised he was drawn away thinking about them when Potter cleared his throat, and he noticed Potter had crawled onto his bed, resting on his calves as he held out some red tinsel with both hands.
“If you don’t want to decorate your room, you can always tie my wrists together,” Potter said, twitching his eye in what Draco assumed was a drunken attempt at a wink.
Draco’s cheeks went hot at the thought, but he kept his cool. “Tinsel’s no good as a bondage device, Potter; it breaks too easy.”
He gave Potter a proper wink, which only made Potter’s grin get even wider.
“Fine, I’ll decorate,” Draco muttered, grabbing his wand and waving it, sending tinsel to line his walls and bedroom furniture. “Now may I please get some sleep?”
“Okay,” Potter said happily, flopping down onto the bed beside Draco and throwing his arm around him.
Draco hadn’t slept with someone next to him like this for a long time, and he hadn’t realised just how much he missed it until now.
***
Draco had a set way of doing things.
He would wake at seven everyday, shower by half past, make his breakfast and return to his room at eight, and read the day’s newspaper over a bowl of honeyed porridge.
At half eight, Potter woke up with a groan, sitting up and revealing shockingly dark circles under his eyes - which was definitely not a usual part of Draco’s morning routine.
Potter’s hair was even wilder than usual, his eyes were bloodshot, and his elf dress had hitched up even higher in the night until it had bunched up near his hips. On closer inspection, Draco realised the dark circles were accentuated by black eye makeup, which Draco hadn’t even realised Potter was wearing the night before.
“Ugh,” Potter croaked, rubbing his eyes with his fists which made him look even more panda like. He met Draco’s gaze, and he froze.
“Malfoy? Oh, I’m going to make Ginny and Blaise pay,” Potter muttered.
“I had quite the same idea,” Draco agreed.
“What the hell?” Potter had looked down, and appeared to be seeing his outfit for the first time. “Why am I in Luna’s outfit? Ugh,” Potter said again. “Sorry, Malfoy; I’m not usually this trashy. Fuck, I was wasted last night.”
“Oh, I know,” Draco said, raising a brow.
“God, did we…?” Potter asked, eyes wide. “Not that I wouldn’t want...that’s probably why Blaise and Ginny brought me here...but I usually like to remember sex the following morning.”
Had Potter just insinuated what Draco thought he had?
“We didn’t have sex,” Draco said, watching Potter’s reaction carefully. “You did kiss me, though.”
Potter’s cheeks went red. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not a touchy-feely drunk, normally. I bet you hated that.”
“It wasn’t bad, actually,” Draco murmured, and Potter’s eyes went even wider. “It was much more preferable to you forcing me to make mince pies for Santa, and having you break into my neighbour’s house to steal their tinsel which you then made me decorate with. I didn’t realise Christmas was so important to you.”
“It isn’t especially important,” Potter shrugged. “But Terry broke up with me on Christmas Eve last year, so I think I was determined to enjoy it this year.”
“Well Happy Break-Up Anniversary; Theo and I share the same date,” Draco said, raising an invisible glass. “So I spend my winter holidays moping inside, and you spend yours getting shit-faced.”
“Pretty awful coping mechanisms; seems like Blaise and Ginny had ulterior motives for putting us together,” Potter smiled, climbing out of bed.
He crossed the room, knocking Draco’s newspaper aside and sliding onto his lap.
“Is this okay?” Potter asked, but Draco had already wrapped his arms around Potter to pull him closer.
Potter moved his hands to the back of Draco’s neck, lowering his head and kissing Draco soundly.
“Merry Christmas,” Draco murmured against Potter’s lips with a smile.
Who needed a set way of doing things? Impulsivity was much more fun.
Author: leontinabowie
Pairing: Harry/Draco (past Draco/Theo and Harry/Terry)
Prompt: Draco's Christmas Eve appears to be full of odd surprises (either that, or someone left a drunk Gryffindor at his door).
Word Count: 2300
Rating: PG-13
Contains: Mentions of past infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), cross-dressing
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Enjoy!
Summary: Draco is miserable and set in his routine, until a drunk Potter appears at his door on Christmas Eve.
Draco had a set way of doing things.
He would take his dinner at seven, have all the dishes washed by half past, be out of the shower at eight, and then spend two hours going over his work notes. At ten, Draco would moisturise, spray the bedroom with lavender oil, change into his pyjamas, and lay in bed with a book until he was ready to sleep at eleven. Draco liked order, and was very fond of his routine.
So when there was loud knocking on his door with only ten minutes to go until eleven, Draco wasn’t too happy. He hoped if he ignored it then the person would go away, but the knocking only got louder.
Grumbling under his breath about inconsiderate people, Draco pulled on a dressing gown and went downstairs. He opened the door with the intention of yelling at whoever it was, but when he saw who was there he stopped in his tracks.
Harry Potter was stood on his doorstep! And not just any old Potter, but a Potter who was dressed like a Muggle Christmas elf - a sexy, female one at that. The green velvet dress fell to the top of Potter’s thighs where the fabric was cut in a zig zag pattern on the hemline, and the collar was lined with white fur. With the dress, Potter wore white and green striped socks, and ankle boots which looked to be made out of a mass of white fluff. Potter’s socks came to just above his knees, and Draco couldn’t help but stare at the bit of thigh which was left exposed above them.
Luckily, Potter didn’t seem to notice Draco staring.
“Malfoy?” he asked, bewildered. “What are you doing in my house?”
It was then that Draco noticed Potter’s eyes - slightly red, and glazed over - and the way he swayed slightly on the spot. Blind drunk, Potter was.
“This is my home, Potter,” Draco said with a sigh; he was supposed to be asleep by now.
“No,” Potter retorted, shaking his head multiple times. “Blaise and Ginny said they were taking me home, and they brought me here.”
Draco was going to punch Blaise when he saw him next. Blaise had been telling Draco for the last year that he needed to loosen up, despite Draco’s insistence that he didn’t want to; that only prompted Blaise to pull stunts like this.
“This is my home,” Draco said again. “You can come in to Floo to your house if you want.”
Potter nodded, stepping through the doorway and nearly stumbling over in the process. He latched onto Draco to stop from falling, his breath smelling fruity and sweet from too many cocktails.
“Why are you dressed like that, anyway?” Draco asked as he followed Potter’s unsteady path down the hallway. He couldn’t help but notice that if he looked at a certain angle, he could just make out black lace around Potter’s arse.
The thought of Potter in lacy underwear suddenly made Draco feel very hot, and he pointedly cast his gaze at the back of Potter’s head.
“It’s Christmas Eve!” Potter declared, stopping suddenly and spinning around - which, naturally, made him crash into the wall. “Didn’t you know it’s nearly Christmas, Draco?”
Draco hadn’t known. Or he did, but he hadn’t thought anything to it because he didn’t see why it mattered. Last Christmas Eve had been particularly horrible, and now Draco would rather treat it like any other day.
It was only when Potter was giggling at Floo Powder falling through his fingers - marring Draco’s perfectly clean carpets - that a thought occurred to Draco.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be using the Floo in this state,” Draco murmured, snatching the Floo Powder jar away from Potter. “Salazar knows where you’ll end up.”
Alright,” Potter said, looking at Draco with innocent curiosity.
Draco could always Apparate Potter home.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“London,” Potter answered promptly.
“Where in London?” Draco pressed, using the silence before Potter’s answer to visualise the wonderful way it would feel when his fist slammed into Blaise’s face.
“In a flat,” Potter replied slowly, furrowing his brow as he thought about the question.
Great; Draco couldn’t take Potter home if he didn’t know where he was going. He could always just kick Potter out and leave him to make his own way home, but who knew what could happen to Potter in the state he was in - especially because Draco was sure the only people out this late on Christmas Eve were vagrants and perverts, and sending Potter out in a dress would attract attention from the worst of them.
“Okay, Potter,” Draco said with a reluctant sigh. “You’re going to stay with me for tonight, and you can go home in the morning when you’re sober.”
Potter’s arms were around him before Draco could even realise that Potter had moved.
“You’re so nice, Draco,” Potter announced tearfully. “You’re like starlight in the darkness.”
Draco patted Potter’s back awkwardly. “Erm, thank you? I think. Do you want to go to bed? I think you should go to bed.”
Potter released Draco just as suddenly as he had hugged him.
“But it’s nearly Christmas!” Potter gasped. “We should make mince pies.”
“Why?” Draco questioned in bewilderment.
“That’s what the Muggles leave out for Santa,” Potter explained seriously, nodding rapidly. “You’ve done nothing else for Christmas.”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Santa doesn’t exist, and I don’t care much for silly Muggle traditions.”
“But Christmas is there to be fun! Let’s go make mince pies.”
Potter grabbed Draco’s wrists and promptly pulled him down the hallway.
“You’re not even going to the kitchen,” Draco pointed out with a roll of his eyes.
Drunk people were like small children; they were exhausting. It was one of the many reasons he declined whenever Blaise invited him out.
“If we make mince pies, I’m going to be the one doing it,” Draco said once they finally reached the kitchen. “I’m not having you burning down my house.”
“If your house burnt down it would be a shame,” Potter said sadly.
“Yes, it would,” Draco agreed.
Draco was supposed to be in bed now, not looking through his drawers for his grandmother’s mince pie recipe. He Summoned the ingredients he needed - Theo’s mincemeat from last year had been left behind when Draco threw the rest of his things out, but it was still in date - and tossed most of them into a mixing bowl.
“Can I mix it?” Potter asked hopefully, from where he was sat on Draco’s table swinging his legs. Draco had almost forgotten he was there.
“Go ahead,” Draco said, sitting back and watching as Potter shoved his hands in the bowl.
“Aunt Petunia never let me do this,” Potter said. “She only let Dudley do it, and he got all the presents as well. Dudley’s nice now. Have you met him?”
Draco shook his head.
Potter broke into a fit of giggles. “Uncle Vernon bought Dudley the wrong Action Man once, so Dudley stepped on his foot so hard he broke Uncle Vernon’s toe.”
Draco failed to see the humour in the story, but maybe that was because he was distracted by the flour on Potter’s nose. Theo used to light up the kitchen when he baked - not so much when Draco walked in on him shagging some ex-Hufflepuff twink over the table - but Potter seemed to bring a sense of joy that Theo had never managed.
Draco quickly pulled the bowl from Potter to distract himself, and set the pastry dough into tins. He added the mincemeat and the pastry topping, and set the pies under a heating charm to cook.
“You’re very pretty, Draco,” Potter commented lightly, and when Draco turned he saw that Potter was looking at a photo of him on the wall. “Terry was pretty, too, but not on the inside.”
Potter tapped his chest and pouted - until the clock chimed as it did every hour.
“It’s Christmas!” Potter announced, beaming.
And then he crossed the room and kissed Draco square on the lips.
“Potter?” Draco asked, alarmed, even though the kiss had left him feeling dizzy - in a good way.
“It’s Christmas!” Potter said again, as though it was an obvious reason for kissing Draco. “That’s what people do when the clock turns twelve.”
Draco sighed, yet again. “That’s New Year’s you’re thinking of.”
Draco tried hard not to feel disappointed. What had his life become if he was disappointed that a drunk boy only kissed him because he had gotten his holiday traditions mixed up?
“You have nice lips,” Potter commented, pressing a finger against his own. They looked rather red and plump, and entirely kissable.
“Well the heating charm will wear off when they’re cooked,” Draco said, unable to stand the tension. “I need to go to bed. The spare room is the first door on the right when you go up the stairs.”
That should have been that, but Draco had only been in bed ten minutes when he heard a smash from somewhere outside. He chose to ignore it, but five minutes later Potter was running across his room with an arm full of tinsel.
“Where did that come from?” Draco asked - he certainly didn’t own any tinsel. Then he remembered the sound of glass breaking. “Did you break into the neighbour’s house?!”
Potter nodded, a sneaky grin gracing his face. “Your house is so dull! Decorate with me, Draco.”
Potter jumped up to swing some gold tinsel around the lampshade on the ceiling, giving Draco a rather nice glimpse of Potter’s thighs and those damn lacy knickers.
He only realised he was drawn away thinking about them when Potter cleared his throat, and he noticed Potter had crawled onto his bed, resting on his calves as he held out some red tinsel with both hands.
“If you don’t want to decorate your room, you can always tie my wrists together,” Potter said, twitching his eye in what Draco assumed was a drunken attempt at a wink.
Draco’s cheeks went hot at the thought, but he kept his cool. “Tinsel’s no good as a bondage device, Potter; it breaks too easy.”
He gave Potter a proper wink, which only made Potter’s grin get even wider.
“Fine, I’ll decorate,” Draco muttered, grabbing his wand and waving it, sending tinsel to line his walls and bedroom furniture. “Now may I please get some sleep?”
“Okay,” Potter said happily, flopping down onto the bed beside Draco and throwing his arm around him.
Draco hadn’t slept with someone next to him like this for a long time, and he hadn’t realised just how much he missed it until now.
***
Draco had a set way of doing things.
He would wake at seven everyday, shower by half past, make his breakfast and return to his room at eight, and read the day’s newspaper over a bowl of honeyed porridge.
At half eight, Potter woke up with a groan, sitting up and revealing shockingly dark circles under his eyes - which was definitely not a usual part of Draco’s morning routine.
Potter’s hair was even wilder than usual, his eyes were bloodshot, and his elf dress had hitched up even higher in the night until it had bunched up near his hips. On closer inspection, Draco realised the dark circles were accentuated by black eye makeup, which Draco hadn’t even realised Potter was wearing the night before.
“Ugh,” Potter croaked, rubbing his eyes with his fists which made him look even more panda like. He met Draco’s gaze, and he froze.
“Malfoy? Oh, I’m going to make Ginny and Blaise pay,” Potter muttered.
“I had quite the same idea,” Draco agreed.
“What the hell?” Potter had looked down, and appeared to be seeing his outfit for the first time. “Why am I in Luna’s outfit? Ugh,” Potter said again. “Sorry, Malfoy; I’m not usually this trashy. Fuck, I was wasted last night.”
“Oh, I know,” Draco said, raising a brow.
“God, did we…?” Potter asked, eyes wide. “Not that I wouldn’t want...that’s probably why Blaise and Ginny brought me here...but I usually like to remember sex the following morning.”
Had Potter just insinuated what Draco thought he had?
“We didn’t have sex,” Draco said, watching Potter’s reaction carefully. “You did kiss me, though.”
Potter’s cheeks went red. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not a touchy-feely drunk, normally. I bet you hated that.”
“It wasn’t bad, actually,” Draco murmured, and Potter’s eyes went even wider. “It was much more preferable to you forcing me to make mince pies for Santa, and having you break into my neighbour’s house to steal their tinsel which you then made me decorate with. I didn’t realise Christmas was so important to you.”
“It isn’t especially important,” Potter shrugged. “But Terry broke up with me on Christmas Eve last year, so I think I was determined to enjoy it this year.”
“Well Happy Break-Up Anniversary; Theo and I share the same date,” Draco said, raising an invisible glass. “So I spend my winter holidays moping inside, and you spend yours getting shit-faced.”
“Pretty awful coping mechanisms; seems like Blaise and Ginny had ulterior motives for putting us together,” Potter smiled, climbing out of bed.
He crossed the room, knocking Draco’s newspaper aside and sliding onto his lap.
“Is this okay?” Potter asked, but Draco had already wrapped his arms around Potter to pull him closer.
Potter moved his hands to the back of Draco’s neck, lowering his head and kissing Draco soundly.
“Merry Christmas,” Draco murmured against Potter’s lips with a smile.
Who needed a set way of doing things? Impulsivity was much more fun.