Title: ... sixteen again ...
Pairing: H/D, baby!
Disclaimer: uhm… yeah, ~JKR (I hope everyone knows what the tilde means! :giggle:)
Word Count: 1291 (:sorry:)
Author’s Notes: Over at slythindor100, there's an ongoing Monday challenge.
Basically, one person started a story and then tags another author to continue. That author posts their continuation on the following Monday and then tags another author to continue from there.
The first story was written by faith1922 and is entitled Two Years
She tagged enchanted_jae who wrote Clinging and then tagged me.
This is my contribution. It be best if you start with faith1922's Two Years and follow the trail from there before you go and read this. Altho', this could stand on its own.
“Har—mmmph!” Harry interrupts Draco’s pleas with crushing kisses. His very breath is as intoxicating as the drink – or drinks – that brought Harry to this level of inebriation.
Rolling on the floor, Draco continues to squeal, squirm, and giggle as Harry’s hands groped and tickled and caressed.
Finally, Draco manages to pry himself from Harry and darts up the stairs of 12 Grimwauld Place, tittering like a schoolboy when he notices Harry chasing after him.
This is how it’s been with them, recently: two old rivals making up for lost time. Draco remembers the conversation that brought Harry to this point….
6 months prior.
Draco fell atop Harry’s chest, sweaty and panting, with Harry’s legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. The warm proof of two orgasms stuck to their stomachs as Draco hooked his arms under Harry’s shoulders. He felt arms enfolding around him and took pleasure in the comfort that it inculcated in him. Draco purred in Harry’s ear as he tried to slow his breathing.
He felt Harry relax under him.
Draco began to slowly pull out of him, but Harry tensed.
“No,” he commanded in a whisper, “stay in… please.”
Draco giggled, but complied.
“I do so love fucking you, Potter,” Draco whispered, each word a hot, moist expiration into Harry’s ear; the sneering tone in his voice was a mere mockery of its former Hogwarts glory, more teasing than indignant.
“And I love you fucking me, Malfoy.”
That’s when Draco heard it. Or, rather, didn't hear it.
You see, they would play the ‘last name game’ with each other, making fun at the very memory of their schoolboy rivalry. Draco could sometimes match the contemptuous drawl of those younger years. But Harry had trouble.
He would always giggle and blush; unless, of course, he used Draco’s last name. Then, there would be the slight hint of that bratty show-off that Draco remembered. If Harry used Draco’s last name, then he could muster that little piece of himself that still saw Draco as a rival or, maybe even as an enemy.
But not tonight, apparently.
Draco jerked up. Harry’s eyes were still closed in post-coital bliss, a goofy smile etched across lips that seemed too thin to be allowed, until you kissed them. He opened his eyes and Draco could see them trying to focus; dilating in an attempt to zero-in on Draco.
“Wh… what’s wrong?” Harry asked, his smile sliding.
Draco blinked slowly. “Nothing,” he answered with a small smile.
Harry sat up on his elbows, forcing Draco’s cock to unsheathe from its favourite place. Draco sat on his knees, watching as Harry reached over to the small bedside table for his spectacles. Putting them on, his expression now reeked with concern.
“Something…” Harry corrected.
“It’s just…” Draco wondered if this was the right time to discuss the subject, “Do you regret anything?”
Draco saw Harry’s gaze wander; the absence of an immediate answer was discerning.
Harry’s attention returned to Draco, “I don’t regret us at all, mind you.”
Draco exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“But I do regret a lot of things.”
“Like?” Draco asked, cautiously.
“I regret that we spent seven years hating each other,” Harry continued, honestly, “I hate that we wasted all that time – all that energy – on stupid fights.”
Harry paused. A sly grin stretched across his lips.
“I hate that we couldn’t have snuck around Hogwarts, stealing kisses in empty classrooms.”
Draco’s lip twitched as he remembered dreams he had of midnight rendezvous he could never have.
“I regret that there was a Voldemort to take away my parents and Sirius and Dumbledore,” Harry continued. “I regret that he and his ideals took your mother and father away from me.”
Draco’s attention snapped back to Harry's face, shocked at the sincerity in his eyes and the endearing tone in his voice.
“I regret never slipping you a note in class begging you to meet me in the Shrieking Shack… I regret not being able to go to the Yule Ball with you; or weekend excursions to Hogsmeade… I regret never buying you a Christmas present or a Valentine’s gift…. I regret never being able to sneak you into Gryffindor tower and fuck you silly in my four-poster…”
Draco bowed his head, smiling.
“I regret,” Harry proceeded, cupping Draco’s cheek and lifting his head, “never being able to get past my own selfishness long enough to see that you were hurting… and afraid… and lost… just like I was.”
His voice was soft and soothing.
Draco took the hand on his face and brought it to his lips, kissing each finger tenderly. But there was desperation in those gentle kisses. Time was precious for Draco, now, and he never wanted to waste them every again. He had spent 7 years wasting them...
... And those days were done.
He heard Harry whisper, “… my dragon …” and Draco collapsed atop Harry again, holding on to him as if his life depended on it.
And maybe it did?
“But most of all,” Harry said, caressing Draco’s back, a jovial inflection returning to his voice, “I regret never going on real dates with you.”
At this, Draco sat back up, eyes wide with excitement – or an idea.
“Well, then, we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?”
“What are you on about?” Harry asked, eyebrows knitted.
“Dates,” Draco answered, “we’ll start going on dates. And we’ll do all the things that we wanted to do at Hogwarts. We can… share an ice cream cone…”
“Or a root beer float…”
“Have a picnic in the park…”
“Feed the pigeons together…”
“Go to the zoo…”
“No, I hate the zoo…”
“Or ‘hide-n-go-get-it’… ow! :giggle:”
“Sneak naughty owls to each other at work…”
“Give each other googly-eyes in restaurants…”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“Get drunk and watch you get in a barfight…”
“Draco!” Harry said with mock-indignation in his voice, “I would never!”
“Yeah, but maybe drunk!Harry would.”
They laughed at the idea of a belligerent Harry Potter.
“Alright,” Harry resigned with a mad gleam in his eye, “we’ll do it. We’ll be sixteen all over again!”
They started with a tickle-fight.
Draco is losing again.
Even drunk, Harry’s hands are fast as they tickle and prod all over Draco’s body. He knows every spot to hit and he hits them with military-like precision. Draco spits out powerless ultimatums between fits of laughter, curling into a ball in a futile attempt to leave Harry with as little surface area to assault as he could.
It doesn’t work.
Finally, Harry stops.
It takes a moment for Draco to relax and stop laughing.
Harry finds that he loves the lines on Draco’s face when he laughs and vows to make him laugh more often.
“I love you, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”
And he’s serious.
“I love you, too, Harry James Potter.”
And he’s serious, too.
They stare into each other for a moment; the moment seems to last an eternity.
“Let’s go out!” Draco exclaims.
“At the Ministry of Sound??”
Draco sees Harry wince.
“I dunno… It’s Saturday night,” Harry says, “It’ll be really crowded!”
“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun! And don’t pout, Potter,” Draco admonishes, pushing Harry’s shoulder playfully. “You can get pissed... maybe get in a fight or three…”
Harry chuckles, rolling onto his back, “I’m not getting in a brawl in a discotheque, Draco.”
Draco turns on his side, propped up on his elbow. Pouting, he begins to play with Harry’s dark tousles.
“We can make some girls jealous,” Draco offers, his eyebrows arching, feigning innocence.
Harry gives in with a smile.
“Ok, let’s go! It’s already 10:30! Better hurry...”
And just like that, they are sixteen again.