Harry Potter - cabin vacation
I've been reading Hemingway for class. These different writing styles are fun to play with. Anyway, C&C appreciated. Dunno if this is done or not. Also, cooking help and food ideas would be nice.
HP - cabin vacation (H/D)
*
When Draco sleeps, there’s a half-second pause between the moment he breathes out, and the moment he breathes in again. Harry watches him sometimes, on mornings he rises first or on nights he cannot sleep. He watches with his heart lodged in his throat, afraid each exhalation will be the last, that the next pause will continue forever.
“Why do you always watch me sleep?” Draco asks one morning through a yawn.
Harry shrugs, rubs his eyes. “I can’t help it.”
Draco gives a sleepy leer: “You can’t resist my sexy body even when I sleep, can you?”
“Of course,” says Harry. His lover gives him a look, but leaves it at that.
*
The cabin has four rooms: a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom. Draco has explored them in minutes. His robes swirl imperiously around him as he strides the length of the cabin in a handful of steps, and paces back, peering into the bathroom as he goes. “Well, this is a fine setup.”
“It’s isolated. It’s what we wanted.”
“It’s a hovel.”
“It’s fine enough.” Harry frowns.
Draco rolls his eyes. “I’m hungry. I think I’ll have Cuthbert’s Custard with venison and maybe some spiced vegetables.” He speaks as if ordering from a restaurant.
“Or the other way around,” Harry says.
“Nonsense, dessert first is the best way to do it.”
The brunet brushes very close when he steps past the blond and into the kitchen. He peers in the cabinets, the fridge with a plug that’s lying on the floor and glowing faintly blue. “Actually, we might need to hold off on the custard.”
“Why?”
“No house elf. I can make…peanut butter and jelly, if it wouldn’t kill you to eat it.” The brunet looks up from where he’s bent half inside the refrigerator.
The blond looks crestfallen.
*
Draco wakes in the night with a start. The bed is too large; Harry has gone. A light slats in from the bathroom, and Draco goes there. He cracks open the door further.
Harry is standing naked by the sink drinking a vial of cerulean liquid. On the counter, the stopper lies on its side.
“Harry?”
Harry startles but quickly composes himself. “Draco, what are you doing up?”
“You weren’t there.”
“Oh. Sorry.” The brunet shuffles toward his lover, whose eyes are blinking rapidly against the light, and wraps his arms around the thinner man. “Come back to bed,” he says. He turns the light off and maneuvers them in a slide-stepping hug back to the bed.
Draco turns from the embrace and crawls back under the covers. “What’s wrong?” he asks when the other head joins his on the solitary pillow.
“’S gonna rain.”
“Oh. Want me to massage it for you?”
“No, it’ll be fine.”
Draco runs a hand down Harry’s thigh anyway, working the muscle under the scar tissue. Harry sighs. Then he hisses, and Draco laughs.
“It’s not funny,” Harry says, and hisses again.
“Turning you on, am I?” Another, deeper chuckle.
Harry moans. Draco disappears under the blankets and the dark of the moonless night. For once, Harry lets his head fall back and his eyes shutter closed.
*
Draco leaves his dirty dishes on the table. He doesn’t even take them to the sink. It annoys Harry to no end. “I said I’d never clean up after anyone else again, and I meant it,” he informs Draco seriously. He is leaning against the divider between the kitchen and the living room. His arms are crossed across his broad chest. His green eyes are intense and angry.
Draco remains on the couch, staring into the fire. “I want to go home,” he says.
“You’re the one who wanted to leave in the first place.”
“I know, but now I want to go home.”
“So the house elves will clean up after you, you mean.”
“No! I just…” Draco stands abruptly and goes to the kitchen. His dishes slide into the sink with a clatter. Back facing Draco, Harry winces at the sound. He catches his lover as he’s rounding the table on his way back to the couch and holds him, back to chest. His chin rests on Draco’s shoulder. His breath teases the long, white-blond hair. Draco shivers.
“Now, love, why do you want to go home?”
His lover motions helplessly at the cabin.
“Really?”
There’s a long silence, in which Harry holds Draco and Draco leans back and relaxes into Harry. They emerge from the embrace a time later with contented smiles on their faces. They share a look. “It’s just…time to go back. For me. I suppose,” Draco says finally.
“I agree,” Harry says.
They stay another day anyway, and leave the following morning, after the rain.
HP - cabin vacation (H/D)
*
When Draco sleeps, there’s a half-second pause between the moment he breathes out, and the moment he breathes in again. Harry watches him sometimes, on mornings he rises first or on nights he cannot sleep. He watches with his heart lodged in his throat, afraid each exhalation will be the last, that the next pause will continue forever.
“Why do you always watch me sleep?” Draco asks one morning through a yawn.
Harry shrugs, rubs his eyes. “I can’t help it.”
Draco gives a sleepy leer: “You can’t resist my sexy body even when I sleep, can you?”
“Of course,” says Harry. His lover gives him a look, but leaves it at that.
*
The cabin has four rooms: a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom. Draco has explored them in minutes. His robes swirl imperiously around him as he strides the length of the cabin in a handful of steps, and paces back, peering into the bathroom as he goes. “Well, this is a fine setup.”
“It’s isolated. It’s what we wanted.”
“It’s a hovel.”
“It’s fine enough.” Harry frowns.
Draco rolls his eyes. “I’m hungry. I think I’ll have Cuthbert’s Custard with venison and maybe some spiced vegetables.” He speaks as if ordering from a restaurant.
“Or the other way around,” Harry says.
“Nonsense, dessert first is the best way to do it.”
The brunet brushes very close when he steps past the blond and into the kitchen. He peers in the cabinets, the fridge with a plug that’s lying on the floor and glowing faintly blue. “Actually, we might need to hold off on the custard.”
“Why?”
“No house elf. I can make…peanut butter and jelly, if it wouldn’t kill you to eat it.” The brunet looks up from where he’s bent half inside the refrigerator.
The blond looks crestfallen.
*
Draco wakes in the night with a start. The bed is too large; Harry has gone. A light slats in from the bathroom, and Draco goes there. He cracks open the door further.
Harry is standing naked by the sink drinking a vial of cerulean liquid. On the counter, the stopper lies on its side.
“Harry?”
Harry startles but quickly composes himself. “Draco, what are you doing up?”
“You weren’t there.”
“Oh. Sorry.” The brunet shuffles toward his lover, whose eyes are blinking rapidly against the light, and wraps his arms around the thinner man. “Come back to bed,” he says. He turns the light off and maneuvers them in a slide-stepping hug back to the bed.
Draco turns from the embrace and crawls back under the covers. “What’s wrong?” he asks when the other head joins his on the solitary pillow.
“’S gonna rain.”
“Oh. Want me to massage it for you?”
“No, it’ll be fine.”
Draco runs a hand down Harry’s thigh anyway, working the muscle under the scar tissue. Harry sighs. Then he hisses, and Draco laughs.
“It’s not funny,” Harry says, and hisses again.
“Turning you on, am I?” Another, deeper chuckle.
Harry moans. Draco disappears under the blankets and the dark of the moonless night. For once, Harry lets his head fall back and his eyes shutter closed.
*
Draco leaves his dirty dishes on the table. He doesn’t even take them to the sink. It annoys Harry to no end. “I said I’d never clean up after anyone else again, and I meant it,” he informs Draco seriously. He is leaning against the divider between the kitchen and the living room. His arms are crossed across his broad chest. His green eyes are intense and angry.
Draco remains on the couch, staring into the fire. “I want to go home,” he says.
“You’re the one who wanted to leave in the first place.”
“I know, but now I want to go home.”
“So the house elves will clean up after you, you mean.”
“No! I just…” Draco stands abruptly and goes to the kitchen. His dishes slide into the sink with a clatter. Back facing Draco, Harry winces at the sound. He catches his lover as he’s rounding the table on his way back to the couch and holds him, back to chest. His chin rests on Draco’s shoulder. His breath teases the long, white-blond hair. Draco shivers.
“Now, love, why do you want to go home?”
His lover motions helplessly at the cabin.
“Really?”
There’s a long silence, in which Harry holds Draco and Draco leans back and relaxes into Harry. They emerge from the embrace a time later with contented smiles on their faces. They share a look. “It’s just…time to go back. For me. I suppose,” Draco says finally.
“I agree,” Harry says.
They stay another day anyway, and leave the following morning, after the rain.