Guise Dance
Dec. 14th, 2009 09:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Guise Dance
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daftfear
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Beta: C
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters and places. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5,400
Warnings: Shameless abuse of ancient celebrations, explicit sex, ridiculous number of prompts unintentionally used. I think that’s all.
Prompts: cookies, mulled wine, mistletoe, Auld Lang Syne, Fairy/Fairies, champagne, A New Year, a New Love, New Year’s Eve, copious amounts of alcohol, Harry/Draco: Traditional Winter Solstice Celebration
A/N: OK, I should point out that though the prompt says “traditional winter solstice celebration” it doesn’t specify which one. There are a number of them, apparently (according to Wikipedia, which is always accurate of course). I decided to use the Cornish Mummer’s Day celebration as well as the Scottish Hogmanay celebration (and ‘first footing’). It should be noted that ‘first footing’ comes from a Norse tradition and it is said to be very good luck if the first footer is tall and dark haired (particularly because the Norse were fair-haired; opposites are good). I think that speaks for itself. I hope you like it! Merry Yule everyone!
Guise Dance
The fairy lights were hovering stars, dotted against the enchanted black ceiling. It was unclear whether they were living fairies or only enchanted to look like them, but they were arranged in constellations, imitating the clearest night sky.
No sky had ever been that clear.
There was also a moon, unnaturally full and glowing brilliantly, floating like an orb above water. It was an enlarged crystal ball, someone had whispered, meant to reveal glimpses of the coming year to those fortunate enough to look upon it and See.
Draco snorted to himself and carefully noted the mask of the witch in question. Her brown hair was pulled back in two flopping pigtails. Her mask was a similar shade of brown and covered the top half of her face, much like all the other masks. It was drawn forward in a tapered nose and had translucent whiskers sticking out the sides.
Rabbit, Draco concluded before he had even realised that the witch had gone as far as to enlarge her front teeth slightly and add a white bow to her elaborate gown, just at the small of her back, to suggest a fluffy white tail. Or perhaps bunny is more accurate for her, he amended to himself. Her costume gave too much away in its need to be clear. Amateur.
But then, Lavender Brown was never one for subtlety, was she?
Draco walked through the hordes of guests as he made his way towards one of the dessert tables. He was in desperate need of a drink, and a stiff one at that.
As he walked, he studied the décor and smirked silently to himself. The vast scale of illusions was astonishing. The walls glimmered with frost and clear ice that reflected the myriad of colours in the room but were warm to the touch. It was, in fact, not ice at all, but gauze and silk enchanted to look like it. There were fir trees set haphazardly about the edges of the hall, each of them glinting with enchanted snowflakes. The firs were enchanted cashmere pines –elaborate cloths spelled to appear as trees which looked real but were soft to the touch. The snowflakes were sugar dust. The mistletoe was real, of course, and hung in natural vines in clever corners and ‘accidental’ spots to surprise partygoers. The sky, as clear as it was, still snowing sparkling crystals. These crystals were enchanted glamours that reflected light and highlighted everyone’s beauty, however hard it was to find.
Fairy magic, some had called it.
But it wasn’t the magic of fairies at all. It was Draco’s magic.
Gilded Gatherings was Draco’s event planning company. Every detail in the hall – indeed, every thing that had to do with the night - was their work; his work. The Ministry had decided that, after two years of rebuilding the wizarding world and healing the wounds of the war, they needed to throw a particularly large party to celebrate. A Jubilee, the new Minister had called it, though what anniversary they were celebrating, Draco didn’t know. He suspected that the Minister didn’t actually know the meaning of the word jubilee, but he did not comment.
The Minister was his client, after all.
The festivities had started on the twenty-third of December and were set to continue for a while longer. This particular ball had been thrown in honour of Mummer’s Day, a Cornish celebration of the Winter Solstice. The traditional celebration called for ‘guise dancing’ which the Minister and his people translated as ‘masquerade’. That was, of course, not quite what the tradition entailed, but, again, Draco did not comment.
Draco merely noted down specifications and brought them to life. He specialized in solstitial celebrations, after all. With the party being held on December twenty-sixth, he decided to focus the celebration on the actual solstice to present a change from the innumerable Christmas celebrations that had come before it. Thus, the music hearkened to the New Year and to good fortunes, instead of to family gatherings and gift-giving.
Draco wasn’t sure why he had decided to show up. Though he had organized the whole event, he was under no obligation to attend. Still, the prospect of partying in costume, anonymously, was a little too tempting to pass on. He had spent two years building his company, bearing the harsh criticism the wizarding world bestowed upon him for his part in the war; he wanted to feel proud that he had been chosen by the Minister to plan the event instead of someone else, but he knew he couldn’t.
His company had simply been the only one with the means to cater to the size of the party. It had been a matter of practicality, rather than one of preference.
Still, he didn’t care. He intended to enjoy himself amidst all the golden figures attending the party; people with their names in the Ministry’s good graces, people that had money and power and prestige. Draco was planning to flirt, seduce and – hopefully – bring home some bloke who would never see it coming.
He caught one of the passing wait-staff and plucked one of the wine glasses from the tray. He tipped it to his lips and then fought the urge to wretch. He had forgotten that the Minister had requested mulled wine be served. True, it was elderflower wine, but still. It was revolting.
He handed it to another one of the wait-staff and went off to find a different drink, hopefully a stronger one. When he located nothing better than mead, he picked up a champagne flute and nursed that instead.
Ridiculous. I specifically noted that there is to be a constant flow of alcohol on the floor and they decide to pass around mead and mulled wine, instead? Where is the hard liquor? Where are the digestifs for after dinner? I’d prefer bloody sherry over this.
Draco finished his journey to the dessert table and decided to comfort himself with one of the dishes. As he hovered over the tray of puff pastries, he noticed the man across from him staring. Fighting the urge to flee, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was in costume. Confident that his mask and outfit would protect his identity, he peered at his observer through his lashes.
At first glance, the man looked to be covered in black from head to toe. His mask was clearly of the magical variety, unlike the one the Brown bint had been sporting, and it was fitted to his face in such a way that it seemed to be his face.
The black covered his forehead, nose and cheeks, rounding out above his mouth to form the short maw of a cat. Fine whiskers peeked out from the sides and the skin around his eyes was painted black as well. His lips were drawn into a rather Cheshire smirk; his deep green eyes twinkled in the fairy lights. The mask continued into his hair, which was brushed back and peaked slightly at both sides to imitate ears. The rest of it stuck out like the fur of a fluffy cat would.
His robes weren’t actually black, Draco realized, but a very deep shade of brown, speckled with leopard spots that were hardly noticeable even in the light. The material looked to be as soft as cashmere but Draco couldn’t know for sure without touching it. He hoped, right then, that he would be touching it soon.
A black panther, then.
The way he looked at Draco made him shiver, however. Something about him was strange. His features were almost too feline, almost too right, but at the same time they were painfully human. The man seemed both confident and terribly uncomfortable. He hovered over the chocolate tart and yet paid no mind to it at all. His eyes were fixed on Draco like a cat would watch its prey.
Draco wasn’t averse to the idea of an attractive man throwing him hungry looks, but something about this one cut directly to his core. He felt both unbelievably excited and completely vulnerable.
Can’t have that.
Draco let his lips draw up in a suggestive smirk before picking up one of the small éclairs and biting into the end of it, meanwhile keeping his eyes trained on the stranger. He let his lips slide over the pastry as he sucked the cream into his mouth; then, he let his tongue dart out and lap at some of the cream left on his lips with a soft hum. The feline stranger’s jaw dropped slightly, before it tightened and he licked his lips.
Draco popped the rest of the sweet into his mouth and winked at the man, before turning around and made his way over to the dance floor. One, two, three, four … just as he reached five, he felt a hand on his wrist and a warm breath in his ear.
“I can’t quite decide what you are,” the voice said, a hint of huskiness shading the tone. Draco didn’t recognize it. He turned with a smirk and cocked one eyebrow, stepping back, spreading his arms and presenting himself.
His mask had a different magic than the panther’s. It did not alter his bone structure, just his skin. His cheeks, nose and brow were covered with delicate, reflective scales that flashed different colours. His hair was styled back, raised and arced on the sides of his head to mimic the idea of horns, while the rest of his locks were swept back in little spikes, charmed to reflect colour like his scales and not appear so obviously blond.
His robes were smooth and contained silk fibres to achieve the same effect, but there were strips of dragon hide along the front and over his shoulders, taken directly from his chosen creature. His boots were also made out of dragon hide, but his eyes were easily his favourite part.
The spell over them covered his eyes completely and reflected the light, much like his scales, in a silvery-opal effect. He half-shrugged and tilted his head.
“I would have thought it was obvious,” he answered silkily. The man sized him up with an appreciative stare and nodded.
“Antipodean Opaleye, I know,” he answered. “I wasn’t referring to your costume.”
Draco ran his tongue languidly across his lower lip and watched the deep, green eyes follow the movement. There was a subtle cat-like slit to his pupils that Draco had not noticed before.
Is that what makes him so feral?
“I was trying to decide whether you were a tease,” he breathed, still watching Draco’s mouth, “or a god.” He considered Draco for a moment further, shifting and apparently trying to decide whether to touch him or not. “I’d wager the latter.”
Draco’s smirk grew into a full and seductive smile. Whatever wildness this man had about him, he would do quite nicely for a holiday fling. Draco had no qualms with the untamed feeling he got from him. Besides, he reminded Draco eerily of someone else. Someone Draco would never have.
Nor do I want to have him, he tried to remind himself. He failed.
He stepped closer to the man, his head slightly inclined. Closing the distance between them made him painfully aware of the crackle of heat in the air between them. He licked his lips again and leaned in to whisper in the stranger’s ear:
“There’s really only one way to find out.”
The stranger made a noise that was somewhere between a purr and a growl, sending blood rushing straight to Draco’s cock. The man reached out to pull Draco close, but the blond twisted and took the stranger’s hand, before nodding his head to the side.
“Follow me,” he said quietly, leading his partner through some of the more densely placed firs. There was a narrow passage that preceded a door leading to one of the cloak rooms. Only the staff had access to them, and none of them were allowed entry until past midnight, when the festivities began to close.
“What should I call you?” Draco asked, mostly because he was hoping the man would let slip his identity through whatever pseudonym he tried to use.
“Panther,” came the reply.
Draco frowned inwardly, thinking. As in black panther, he supposed. Fantastic.
“I suppose you can call me Dragon,” he said in response. He turned and faced the stranger again with a smirk, only to find his partner smirking right back at him.
“Yes,” he whispered mysteriously. “I’ll call you Dragon.”
Draco thought there was something more to the words, but he decided not to think on it too long. Instead, he smiled and pushed the man up against the wall, toying with the straps of his robes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the line where the mask met the face and smiled at the feel of it.
The cat-mask was made of velvet-soft fur. He peppered the line of the mask with kisses, moving from just above his lips to his ear.
“Panther, then,” he breathed, his fingers sliding open the soft material of the other’s robes. He had been right, before. It was as soft as cashmere; possibly even softer.
His hands slipped under the garment and met with heated skin. Draco pressed his body up against his partner’s and their erections met through the cloth.
“Let me answer your question.”
The man moaned when Draco frotted again him, his fingers teasing over the skin and massaging circles around the man’s hard nipples. Panther seemed momentarily stymied, either by Draco’s words or his sudden assault, but soon came back to himself and reached up to begin to undress Draco.
The blond kissed a path down Panther’s jaw and then settled on his neck, lapping and sucking at the skin. The stranger angled his head to the side and moaned softly as he tugged open Draco’s robes, fervently trying to touch his skin.
Panther’s hands were everywhere once Draco’s robes were open. He tried to slide them off Draco’s shoulders but the blond wouldn’t let him. There was something that he couldn’t let Panther see.
Not if Draco intended to actually shag him.
He distracted the stranger by sliding his hand down and slipping it beneath the waist of Panther’s pants. His fingers played lightly around the throbbing head of the stranger’s cock, before wrapping his hand around the length and squeezing.
Panther groaned and his hands travelled up and into Draco’s hair, burying themselves there as Draco sucked his neck and stroked him.
The blond was pleased that Panther had abandoned his previous mission. Draco tugged and twisted his wrist, while his other hand travelled under Panther’s clothes and gripped his arse. The man’s pleased noises were fuelling Draco’s desire and he finally pulled away and sank slowly to his knees.
He gazed up at his partner and smiled as he released Panther’s erection from the confines of his pants. The slitted green eyes gazed down at him with all the attention of a cat, but were softened by his obvious need.
Draco licked his lips and opened his mouth, sucking on the head of the thick shaft. He mimicked what he had done earlier with the éclair and was rewarded with a groan and an arch.
“Oh, fuck,” the man breathed, his hands again in Draco’s hair, not forcing him on like any other one-off might have done, but rather encouraging him and massaging his scalp in a strangely sensual way.
Draco moaned unintentionally as he sucked Panther’s cock further. He laved his tongue against the hot skin, massaging the sensitive underside while he fondled his balls. “Oh, god, yes, fuck.”
Draco hollowed his cheeks and began to move faster, finding himself wanting desperately to taste this man on his tongue. But soon the fingers in his hair were forcing him back, making him release his cock.
Draco eyed it a moment, glistening and wet. He was then pulled back to his feet, staring the man in the eyes.
“Want to fuck you,” Panther said huskily, his hands sliding down to Draco’s neck with the clear intention of pulling him into a kiss. Draco turned his head slightly and shifted his weight, pulling Panther away from the wall and pushing him up against a table instead.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Kitten,” he said smoothly. “I’m a dragon, see? We don’t bottom.”
He reached behind Panther and slid two fingers down his arse, teasing his hole. The man gasped and bucked into him.
“Now, if you had been an animal that’s larger than a dragon, I might’ve reconsidered.”
Draco leaned in and nibbled on the skin just below Panther’s ear. He gasped again and tilted his head to give Draco better access.
“What’s larger than a dragon?” he asked breathlessly.
Draco smirked. “Exactly.”
Draco lifted his partner and pushed him down flat against the tabletop. He spread Panther’s legs and drew a line down from his balls to his hole with his finger before pulling out his wand. He held the man down with one hand and cast a wordless spell with the other.
“Oh, god,” Panther gasped, his palms suddenly flat against the table. Draco whispered softly and drew reassuring circles over the man’s nipples. The blond put away his wand and slid one finger past the ring of tight muscle to test him.
Panther arched, spreading his legs wider, and Draco grinned to himself. He added another finger and pushed them in to the knuckle, before pulling them out.
“Fuck the fingers, I want you now,” Panther informed him.
Draco growled and complied, slicking his cock and positioning it at Panther’s entrance. He waited only a moment before pushing swiftly in and as deep as he could go.
The stranger stifled his own cry by biting his fist and Draco clenched his jaw, shaking from the sudden tight heat that strangled his cock. He grasped Panther’s hips tightly and gasped in a breath.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Draco moaned and Panther shifted and clenched around him as though trying to prove that he could get tighter. Draco released a strangled cry and immediately pulled out, before slamming back in with all his might.
“Ah, fuck yes,” Panther cried.
Draco started thrusting hard and fast and deep, determined to force the stranger to scream loud enough for the entire party to hear.
Draco tried to stay in control, but found it difficult. The stranger kept clenching and bucking against him, meeting his thrusts and pulling more out of him, causing a form of ecstasy that Draco had not known since - well, ever.
“So good,” Draco said, without realising it. His mind was elsewhere - on vacation - as he dissolved into a pleasure-induced haze.
Panther suddenly arched and leaned up, propping himself up on one elbow while reaching up and grabbing Draco’s neck.
“Need to kiss you,” he said and tugged Draco down roughly. The blond would have argued and pulled away if he had been given the chance, but he hadn’t. Suddenly Panther’s mouth was against his, his tongue plundering Draco’s mouth and fighting with his own. He was fucking Draco’s mouth the way Draco was fucking him.
It was angry and urgent and full of fire. The feral nature of the stranger translated to everything he did and, Draco knew, that if he had topped, it would have been just the same.
The blond was bent oddly over his partner and he thrust in a kind of frenzy while his mouth was occupied with kissing.
He could hardly breathe, but he didn't care; he was being kissed like he had never been kissed before. He was determined, through that haze, to fuck Panther like he had never been fucked by anyone else.
“Oh, god, oh, fuck,” Panther cried suddenly, releasing Draco’s mouth and moaning deeply.
Draco leaned his head against Panther’s shoulder as he thrust in faster and deeper than before, knowing that the feline man was so close. Draco reached between them and grasped the stranger’s cock. He had to tug just twice before the other man screamed out, “Oh, fuck, Draco!”
The haze in Draco’s mind was more like a fog as every muscle in Panther’s body tightened and tensed as he came, coating his own stomach and lightly splattering Draco’s. The blond cried out as well, unable to hold in any longer, and spilled out into his mysterious partner.
He went momentarily blind with the light that exploded behind his eyes and then slumped over, onto his lover. He was panting and reeling, his mind flickering with images and words. He was lost.
A hand came up and played gently with the hair at his nape, before humming softly and contently.
“I was right,” Panther said softly. “You are a god, if an arrogant one.”
Draco made a muffled noise before opening his eyes to stare at the table beneath the stranger’s face. Something wasn’t right.
“I should have known you would pick a dragon, though,” the voice informed him.
Something about it was very familiar, now that the husk of desire was gone. The sated smugness of the tone was oddly recognisable.
Then the words caught up with him and he stiffened. He pushed himself up, off of Panther and pulled out, stepping back abruptly and righting, tucking himself away. He stared at the man with narrowed eyes. The man blinked back at him, painfully innocent.
“You called me Draco,” the blond said sharply. Though the stranger was wearing a mask, Draco could still see the sudden flush of red on his face.
“It means Dragon, you know,” he tried to argue for a moment, but Draco shook his head.
“Who the fuck are you?”
As soon as he’d asked, it was too obvious, and he shook his head at the unspoken name on the air. He stepped back, nimbly fastening his robes.
The man sat up, his black hair no longer artfully spiked but completely unruly. The glamour over his eyes flickered and faded out of existence. Now, they were no longer dark green but very bright, and too unique.
Draco’s blood ran cold. “Oh no, no, no, no…”
The man got to his feet and shook his head, his eyes wide.
“You can’t tell me -” he began, but Draco glared at him and clenched his teeth.
“Why?” he snapped sharply. “Why the fuck would you do this?” He shook his head violently and stumbled back. “I can’t believe… no, no, you…”
Draco babbled, unable to finish any sentence he started. Fear and horror flooded him, mixed with not a tiny amount of hurt. He pulled out his wand and glared at the man.
“Fuck you, Potter.”
Then he Disapparated.
+++++
New Year’s Eve was not at all like Draco pictured it. Gilded Gatherings had organized a two-day celebration for the Ministry, complete with champagne fountains, cherub choirs singing Auld Lang Syne, a massive countdown clock and a shower of pixie dust that would explode from the floating lanterns as soon as the clock struck twelve.
But Draco had not attended. He had had no interest in going to any of the Ministry Yule celebrations; not since Mummer’s Day.
He was sitting on his sofa, slumped down, and staring into the fire. He was nursing a glass of Firewhisky, while trying to figure out how he had done what he had done. The whole situation with Panther and the Mummer’s Day celebration was ridiculous, really.
He felt strangely used and hurt. He didn’t think he had reason to be, though. He had intended to use whoever he seduced, anyway, hadn’t he? He was just indignant because he hadn’t been the one in control, wasn’t he?
That’s not true, you fool. You know it’s not.
Draco downed the amber liquid and placed the empty glass on the glossy table before him. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands.
He was so angry with himself that he had spent the last five days holed up in his house, alone. His parents were in Norway for the holidays, and he had no one he wanted to spend the time with.
Perhaps you have.
Draco cursed the traitorous voice in his mind and screwed his eyes shut. Potter had always been it. Potter had always been - Potter had alwaysbeen.
Draco just couldn’t understand why he had done what he had done. Why would he lie to Draco and seduce him? Why let Draco fuck him without knowing? Was it all a trap? A game to mess with Draco’s mind?
It was entirely possible. That was one of the reasons Draco had fled. He couldn’t face the humiliation of having fucked Potter and been deceived. He had tricked Draco into believing that he wanted him. Potter had - Potter had kissed him.
Draco never allowed any of his one-offs to kiss him. Fucking could be clinical, but kissing was intimate. Potter, of course, broke all the bloody rules and kissed him.
And Draco had let him. He had been wholly absorbed in the act.
He pushed his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Potter symbolised everything Draco could never have. He was the golden boy of the Ministry, shining light of the wizarding world; surrounded by friends and loved ones. He had everything he could want and fucking Draco was just a way of dragging his face through the mud.
Look, I’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted. Now I’m going to dangle it all in front of your face, and then snatch it away.
The problem was that no matter how angry Draco was, he couldn’t stop thinking about Potter; about the look in his eyes, about the way he had held Draco, about the kiss.
The grandfather clock in the corner struck twelve solemnly, and Draco held up his empty glass to the fire.
“Happy New Year,” he said bitterly, raising it to his lips before realising it was empty. “Fucking figures.”
He had nothing this year. He was empty.
Draco groaned and attempted to force away the maudlin thoughts, trying to convince himself that they were a result of the admittedly copious amounts of alcohol he had imbibed, when the wards jingled an unpleasantly perky tune.
“What?” Draco asked no one, glancing at the door to the hall. Someone had decided to ring him now? At midnight?
Draco pulled out his wand, knowing that, if it came to it, he would probably not be able to adequately defend himself, but it was a good way to bluff.
He walked out to the hall and padded down toward the entryway. Glancing out, he could only make out the shape of a person.
Oh good, so it’s not Nargles ringing my bell.
Draco had never been quite sure about what had possessed him to hire Luna Lovegood. He pressed his fingertips to his temple before opening the door.
There, in the thickly falling snow, stood, unmistakably, Harry Potter.
Draco blinked several times. When Potter offered him a shy smile, shrugging his shoulders, Draco glared and set his jaw.
“I’m not interested in what you’re selling,” Draco snapped and tried to shut the door. Potter reached out and stopped it with a hand. He looked guilty and regretful.
“Draco, wait,” he started to say. Draco jerked the door out of his reach and squared his shoulders.
“What do you want?” he snapped coldly. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“This is where I need to be,” Potter replied quietly. He bit his lip and Draco tried not to find it appealing. He maintained his glare as well as he could.
Potter glanced behind Draco and then to the side. “Er, you don’t have any visitors, do you?”
“No,” Draco sneered. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Potter winced, but then set his expression and stepped forward.
“Right then,” he said, pushing past Draco as he walked into the hall. Draco stumbled and spluttered.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, holding his wand, though he was unable to raise it to Potter. The man tried to smile without looking unsure, but didn’t quite manage.
“I’m completing a Winter solstice ceremony,” he explained weakly. Draco stared at him. Potter shifted and held out a bottle of Firewhisky with a purple bow around the neck. Draco eyed it.
“It’s for Hogmanay.”
Draco glanced back up at him, one eyebrow arched in question.
Potter blushed. “It’s a Scottish ritual. First footing,” he said, by way of explanation. Draco crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “Er, well, it happens just after midnight on New Year’s Eve. It involves being the first person to cross the threshold of a friend or neighbour and offer them a gift of good tidings for the New Year.” He held up the whisky again.
“You intend for me to spend my New Year pissed?” Draco asked, nodding to the bottle.
Potter flushed darker and shook his head, then rolled his eyes. It was a strange mix of gestures.
“No, prat,” he answered. “It’s symbolic. A drink, to toast. I also have,” he began, before rifling through his pockets. “A piece of coal, so the house will always be warm. A parcel of shortbread cookies, so you’ll never go hungry this year and a silver Sickle, so that this year will bring you prosperity.”
He held out the assorted items proudly and Draco considered them, before looking back up at Potter with an unreadable expression.
“That’s all fine and dandy, Potter,” he replied, his voice still hard. He wasn’t sure what kind of trick this was, but he was sure there was one. “But there is a problem. I am neither your neighbour nor your friend.”
Potter shifted and nibbled on his lower lip again. He nodded and tilted his head. Draco tried to convince himself that none of this was endearing at all.
“Yeah, well, I was hoping,” Potter began offhandedly. “That you could actually be more than that…”
Draco’s eyes widened a fraction as he stared at his old school rival.
Potter smiled nervously. “See, I didn’t realise you didn’t recognise me, and well … I’ve been trying to meet with you for a year now, but you never agreed to it and … I thought when you saw me, you’d finally come around, and… bloody hell, I’m pants at this.”
Draco’s mouth slowly shifted from a hard line into a small smile as Potter babbled. He took a step forward and studied Potter seriously.
Was he serious? He wasn’t playing games or intending to hurt Draco at all? Humiliate him, perhaps?
Draco wasn’t sure how this could humiliate him, but he was sure there was a way. But Potter had brought gifts for good tidings and gone through all that trouble and…
“You want -” Draco began slowly, testing the words on his tongue before speaking them out loud, “- to be with me?” Potter waited expectantly as Draco thought it out. “But you hated me.”
“I was obsessed with you,” Harry amended. “After … well everything, I realised I had no reason to think about you all the time anymore, but I still did. And then Luna told me how funny you can be, and I figured it out. I want to be with you, Draco.”
So that’s why I hired Lovegood.
Draco took a deep breath and then licked his lips. He reached out and took the bottle of Firewhisky from Potter’s hand, cocking his head to the side.
“Hogmanay demands that I welcome you in,” he replied with a smirk. Potter’s eyes widened before a look of mild confusion set in.
Draco stepped even closer. “But I’ve never liked handshakes.”
He reached around and pulled Harry into a kiss, their lips meeting smoothly before parting. Draco slid his tongue into Harry’s mouth and tasted him, without the taint of alcohol. He pressed up against the other man and felt two arms wrap around him in response, pushing him back slowly against a nearby wall.
“I discovered something else,” Harry said after a long while, pulling away just far enough to press their foreheads against one another.
Draco smiled. “What’s that?”
Harry smirked mischievously and then attempted to look nonchalant.
“Well, Antipodean Opaleyes aren’t really all that big, you see,” he explained carefully, studying Draco for a reaction. “And it’s possible that Nundus are larger than that particular breed of dragon.”
Draco quirked a brow and leaned his head back to consider Harry. He smiled, recognising a challenge.
“Really?” he asked softly. “Let’s go find out.”
-----
Author/Artist:
daftfearPairing: Harry/Draco
Beta: C
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters and places. They belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5,400
Warnings: Shameless abuse of ancient celebrations, explicit sex, ridiculous number of prompts unintentionally used. I think that’s all.
Prompts: cookies, mulled wine, mistletoe, Auld Lang Syne, Fairy/Fairies, champagne, A New Year, a New Love, New Year’s Eve, copious amounts of alcohol, Harry/Draco: Traditional Winter Solstice Celebration
A/N: OK, I should point out that though the prompt says “traditional winter solstice celebration” it doesn’t specify which one. There are a number of them, apparently (according to Wikipedia, which is always accurate of course). I decided to use the Cornish Mummer’s Day celebration as well as the Scottish Hogmanay celebration (and ‘first footing’). It should be noted that ‘first footing’ comes from a Norse tradition and it is said to be very good luck if the first footer is tall and dark haired (particularly because the Norse were fair-haired; opposites are good). I think that speaks for itself. I hope you like it! Merry Yule everyone!
Guise Dance
The fairy lights were hovering stars, dotted against the enchanted black ceiling. It was unclear whether they were living fairies or only enchanted to look like them, but they were arranged in constellations, imitating the clearest night sky.
No sky had ever been that clear.
There was also a moon, unnaturally full and glowing brilliantly, floating like an orb above water. It was an enlarged crystal ball, someone had whispered, meant to reveal glimpses of the coming year to those fortunate enough to look upon it and See.
Draco snorted to himself and carefully noted the mask of the witch in question. Her brown hair was pulled back in two flopping pigtails. Her mask was a similar shade of brown and covered the top half of her face, much like all the other masks. It was drawn forward in a tapered nose and had translucent whiskers sticking out the sides.
Rabbit, Draco concluded before he had even realised that the witch had gone as far as to enlarge her front teeth slightly and add a white bow to her elaborate gown, just at the small of her back, to suggest a fluffy white tail. Or perhaps bunny is more accurate for her, he amended to himself. Her costume gave too much away in its need to be clear. Amateur.
But then, Lavender Brown was never one for subtlety, was she?
Draco walked through the hordes of guests as he made his way towards one of the dessert tables. He was in desperate need of a drink, and a stiff one at that.
As he walked, he studied the décor and smirked silently to himself. The vast scale of illusions was astonishing. The walls glimmered with frost and clear ice that reflected the myriad of colours in the room but were warm to the touch. It was, in fact, not ice at all, but gauze and silk enchanted to look like it. There were fir trees set haphazardly about the edges of the hall, each of them glinting with enchanted snowflakes. The firs were enchanted cashmere pines –elaborate cloths spelled to appear as trees which looked real but were soft to the touch. The snowflakes were sugar dust. The mistletoe was real, of course, and hung in natural vines in clever corners and ‘accidental’ spots to surprise partygoers. The sky, as clear as it was, still snowing sparkling crystals. These crystals were enchanted glamours that reflected light and highlighted everyone’s beauty, however hard it was to find.
Fairy magic, some had called it.
But it wasn’t the magic of fairies at all. It was Draco’s magic.
Gilded Gatherings was Draco’s event planning company. Every detail in the hall – indeed, every thing that had to do with the night - was their work; his work. The Ministry had decided that, after two years of rebuilding the wizarding world and healing the wounds of the war, they needed to throw a particularly large party to celebrate. A Jubilee, the new Minister had called it, though what anniversary they were celebrating, Draco didn’t know. He suspected that the Minister didn’t actually know the meaning of the word jubilee, but he did not comment.
The Minister was his client, after all.
The festivities had started on the twenty-third of December and were set to continue for a while longer. This particular ball had been thrown in honour of Mummer’s Day, a Cornish celebration of the Winter Solstice. The traditional celebration called for ‘guise dancing’ which the Minister and his people translated as ‘masquerade’. That was, of course, not quite what the tradition entailed, but, again, Draco did not comment.
Draco merely noted down specifications and brought them to life. He specialized in solstitial celebrations, after all. With the party being held on December twenty-sixth, he decided to focus the celebration on the actual solstice to present a change from the innumerable Christmas celebrations that had come before it. Thus, the music hearkened to the New Year and to good fortunes, instead of to family gatherings and gift-giving.
Draco wasn’t sure why he had decided to show up. Though he had organized the whole event, he was under no obligation to attend. Still, the prospect of partying in costume, anonymously, was a little too tempting to pass on. He had spent two years building his company, bearing the harsh criticism the wizarding world bestowed upon him for his part in the war; he wanted to feel proud that he had been chosen by the Minister to plan the event instead of someone else, but he knew he couldn’t.
His company had simply been the only one with the means to cater to the size of the party. It had been a matter of practicality, rather than one of preference.
Still, he didn’t care. He intended to enjoy himself amidst all the golden figures attending the party; people with their names in the Ministry’s good graces, people that had money and power and prestige. Draco was planning to flirt, seduce and – hopefully – bring home some bloke who would never see it coming.
He caught one of the passing wait-staff and plucked one of the wine glasses from the tray. He tipped it to his lips and then fought the urge to wretch. He had forgotten that the Minister had requested mulled wine be served. True, it was elderflower wine, but still. It was revolting.
He handed it to another one of the wait-staff and went off to find a different drink, hopefully a stronger one. When he located nothing better than mead, he picked up a champagne flute and nursed that instead.
Ridiculous. I specifically noted that there is to be a constant flow of alcohol on the floor and they decide to pass around mead and mulled wine, instead? Where is the hard liquor? Where are the digestifs for after dinner? I’d prefer bloody sherry over this.
Draco finished his journey to the dessert table and decided to comfort himself with one of the dishes. As he hovered over the tray of puff pastries, he noticed the man across from him staring. Fighting the urge to flee, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was in costume. Confident that his mask and outfit would protect his identity, he peered at his observer through his lashes.
At first glance, the man looked to be covered in black from head to toe. His mask was clearly of the magical variety, unlike the one the Brown bint had been sporting, and it was fitted to his face in such a way that it seemed to be his face.
The black covered his forehead, nose and cheeks, rounding out above his mouth to form the short maw of a cat. Fine whiskers peeked out from the sides and the skin around his eyes was painted black as well. His lips were drawn into a rather Cheshire smirk; his deep green eyes twinkled in the fairy lights. The mask continued into his hair, which was brushed back and peaked slightly at both sides to imitate ears. The rest of it stuck out like the fur of a fluffy cat would.
His robes weren’t actually black, Draco realized, but a very deep shade of brown, speckled with leopard spots that were hardly noticeable even in the light. The material looked to be as soft as cashmere but Draco couldn’t know for sure without touching it. He hoped, right then, that he would be touching it soon.
A black panther, then.
The way he looked at Draco made him shiver, however. Something about him was strange. His features were almost too feline, almost too right, but at the same time they were painfully human. The man seemed both confident and terribly uncomfortable. He hovered over the chocolate tart and yet paid no mind to it at all. His eyes were fixed on Draco like a cat would watch its prey.
Draco wasn’t averse to the idea of an attractive man throwing him hungry looks, but something about this one cut directly to his core. He felt both unbelievably excited and completely vulnerable.
Can’t have that.
Draco let his lips draw up in a suggestive smirk before picking up one of the small éclairs and biting into the end of it, meanwhile keeping his eyes trained on the stranger. He let his lips slide over the pastry as he sucked the cream into his mouth; then, he let his tongue dart out and lap at some of the cream left on his lips with a soft hum. The feline stranger’s jaw dropped slightly, before it tightened and he licked his lips.
Draco popped the rest of the sweet into his mouth and winked at the man, before turning around and made his way over to the dance floor. One, two, three, four … just as he reached five, he felt a hand on his wrist and a warm breath in his ear.
“I can’t quite decide what you are,” the voice said, a hint of huskiness shading the tone. Draco didn’t recognize it. He turned with a smirk and cocked one eyebrow, stepping back, spreading his arms and presenting himself.
His mask had a different magic than the panther’s. It did not alter his bone structure, just his skin. His cheeks, nose and brow were covered with delicate, reflective scales that flashed different colours. His hair was styled back, raised and arced on the sides of his head to mimic the idea of horns, while the rest of his locks were swept back in little spikes, charmed to reflect colour like his scales and not appear so obviously blond.
His robes were smooth and contained silk fibres to achieve the same effect, but there were strips of dragon hide along the front and over his shoulders, taken directly from his chosen creature. His boots were also made out of dragon hide, but his eyes were easily his favourite part.
The spell over them covered his eyes completely and reflected the light, much like his scales, in a silvery-opal effect. He half-shrugged and tilted his head.
“I would have thought it was obvious,” he answered silkily. The man sized him up with an appreciative stare and nodded.
“Antipodean Opaleye, I know,” he answered. “I wasn’t referring to your costume.”
Draco ran his tongue languidly across his lower lip and watched the deep, green eyes follow the movement. There was a subtle cat-like slit to his pupils that Draco had not noticed before.
Is that what makes him so feral?
“I was trying to decide whether you were a tease,” he breathed, still watching Draco’s mouth, “or a god.” He considered Draco for a moment further, shifting and apparently trying to decide whether to touch him or not. “I’d wager the latter.”
Draco’s smirk grew into a full and seductive smile. Whatever wildness this man had about him, he would do quite nicely for a holiday fling. Draco had no qualms with the untamed feeling he got from him. Besides, he reminded Draco eerily of someone else. Someone Draco would never have.
Nor do I want to have him, he tried to remind himself. He failed.
He stepped closer to the man, his head slightly inclined. Closing the distance between them made him painfully aware of the crackle of heat in the air between them. He licked his lips again and leaned in to whisper in the stranger’s ear:
“There’s really only one way to find out.”
The stranger made a noise that was somewhere between a purr and a growl, sending blood rushing straight to Draco’s cock. The man reached out to pull Draco close, but the blond twisted and took the stranger’s hand, before nodding his head to the side.
“Follow me,” he said quietly, leading his partner through some of the more densely placed firs. There was a narrow passage that preceded a door leading to one of the cloak rooms. Only the staff had access to them, and none of them were allowed entry until past midnight, when the festivities began to close.
“What should I call you?” Draco asked, mostly because he was hoping the man would let slip his identity through whatever pseudonym he tried to use.
“Panther,” came the reply.
Draco frowned inwardly, thinking. As in black panther, he supposed. Fantastic.
“I suppose you can call me Dragon,” he said in response. He turned and faced the stranger again with a smirk, only to find his partner smirking right back at him.
“Yes,” he whispered mysteriously. “I’ll call you Dragon.”
Draco thought there was something more to the words, but he decided not to think on it too long. Instead, he smiled and pushed the man up against the wall, toying with the straps of his robes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the line where the mask met the face and smiled at the feel of it.
The cat-mask was made of velvet-soft fur. He peppered the line of the mask with kisses, moving from just above his lips to his ear.
“Panther, then,” he breathed, his fingers sliding open the soft material of the other’s robes. He had been right, before. It was as soft as cashmere; possibly even softer.
His hands slipped under the garment and met with heated skin. Draco pressed his body up against his partner’s and their erections met through the cloth.
“Let me answer your question.”
The man moaned when Draco frotted again him, his fingers teasing over the skin and massaging circles around the man’s hard nipples. Panther seemed momentarily stymied, either by Draco’s words or his sudden assault, but soon came back to himself and reached up to begin to undress Draco.
The blond kissed a path down Panther’s jaw and then settled on his neck, lapping and sucking at the skin. The stranger angled his head to the side and moaned softly as he tugged open Draco’s robes, fervently trying to touch his skin.
Panther’s hands were everywhere once Draco’s robes were open. He tried to slide them off Draco’s shoulders but the blond wouldn’t let him. There was something that he couldn’t let Panther see.
Not if Draco intended to actually shag him.
He distracted the stranger by sliding his hand down and slipping it beneath the waist of Panther’s pants. His fingers played lightly around the throbbing head of the stranger’s cock, before wrapping his hand around the length and squeezing.
Panther groaned and his hands travelled up and into Draco’s hair, burying themselves there as Draco sucked his neck and stroked him.
The blond was pleased that Panther had abandoned his previous mission. Draco tugged and twisted his wrist, while his other hand travelled under Panther’s clothes and gripped his arse. The man’s pleased noises were fuelling Draco’s desire and he finally pulled away and sank slowly to his knees.
He gazed up at his partner and smiled as he released Panther’s erection from the confines of his pants. The slitted green eyes gazed down at him with all the attention of a cat, but were softened by his obvious need.
Draco licked his lips and opened his mouth, sucking on the head of the thick shaft. He mimicked what he had done earlier with the éclair and was rewarded with a groan and an arch.
“Oh, fuck,” the man breathed, his hands again in Draco’s hair, not forcing him on like any other one-off might have done, but rather encouraging him and massaging his scalp in a strangely sensual way.
Draco moaned unintentionally as he sucked Panther’s cock further. He laved his tongue against the hot skin, massaging the sensitive underside while he fondled his balls. “Oh, god, yes, fuck.”
Draco hollowed his cheeks and began to move faster, finding himself wanting desperately to taste this man on his tongue. But soon the fingers in his hair were forcing him back, making him release his cock.
Draco eyed it a moment, glistening and wet. He was then pulled back to his feet, staring the man in the eyes.
“Want to fuck you,” Panther said huskily, his hands sliding down to Draco’s neck with the clear intention of pulling him into a kiss. Draco turned his head slightly and shifted his weight, pulling Panther away from the wall and pushing him up against a table instead.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Kitten,” he said smoothly. “I’m a dragon, see? We don’t bottom.”
He reached behind Panther and slid two fingers down his arse, teasing his hole. The man gasped and bucked into him.
“Now, if you had been an animal that’s larger than a dragon, I might’ve reconsidered.”
Draco leaned in and nibbled on the skin just below Panther’s ear. He gasped again and tilted his head to give Draco better access.
“What’s larger than a dragon?” he asked breathlessly.
Draco smirked. “Exactly.”
Draco lifted his partner and pushed him down flat against the tabletop. He spread Panther’s legs and drew a line down from his balls to his hole with his finger before pulling out his wand. He held the man down with one hand and cast a wordless spell with the other.
“Oh, god,” Panther gasped, his palms suddenly flat against the table. Draco whispered softly and drew reassuring circles over the man’s nipples. The blond put away his wand and slid one finger past the ring of tight muscle to test him.
Panther arched, spreading his legs wider, and Draco grinned to himself. He added another finger and pushed them in to the knuckle, before pulling them out.
“Fuck the fingers, I want you now,” Panther informed him.
Draco growled and complied, slicking his cock and positioning it at Panther’s entrance. He waited only a moment before pushing swiftly in and as deep as he could go.
The stranger stifled his own cry by biting his fist and Draco clenched his jaw, shaking from the sudden tight heat that strangled his cock. He grasped Panther’s hips tightly and gasped in a breath.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Draco moaned and Panther shifted and clenched around him as though trying to prove that he could get tighter. Draco released a strangled cry and immediately pulled out, before slamming back in with all his might.
“Ah, fuck yes,” Panther cried.
Draco started thrusting hard and fast and deep, determined to force the stranger to scream loud enough for the entire party to hear.
Draco tried to stay in control, but found it difficult. The stranger kept clenching and bucking against him, meeting his thrusts and pulling more out of him, causing a form of ecstasy that Draco had not known since - well, ever.
“So good,” Draco said, without realising it. His mind was elsewhere - on vacation - as he dissolved into a pleasure-induced haze.
Panther suddenly arched and leaned up, propping himself up on one elbow while reaching up and grabbing Draco’s neck.
“Need to kiss you,” he said and tugged Draco down roughly. The blond would have argued and pulled away if he had been given the chance, but he hadn’t. Suddenly Panther’s mouth was against his, his tongue plundering Draco’s mouth and fighting with his own. He was fucking Draco’s mouth the way Draco was fucking him.
It was angry and urgent and full of fire. The feral nature of the stranger translated to everything he did and, Draco knew, that if he had topped, it would have been just the same.
The blond was bent oddly over his partner and he thrust in a kind of frenzy while his mouth was occupied with kissing.
He could hardly breathe, but he didn't care; he was being kissed like he had never been kissed before. He was determined, through that haze, to fuck Panther like he had never been fucked by anyone else.
“Oh, god, oh, fuck,” Panther cried suddenly, releasing Draco’s mouth and moaning deeply.
Draco leaned his head against Panther’s shoulder as he thrust in faster and deeper than before, knowing that the feline man was so close. Draco reached between them and grasped the stranger’s cock. He had to tug just twice before the other man screamed out, “Oh, fuck, Draco!”
The haze in Draco’s mind was more like a fog as every muscle in Panther’s body tightened and tensed as he came, coating his own stomach and lightly splattering Draco’s. The blond cried out as well, unable to hold in any longer, and spilled out into his mysterious partner.
He went momentarily blind with the light that exploded behind his eyes and then slumped over, onto his lover. He was panting and reeling, his mind flickering with images and words. He was lost.
A hand came up and played gently with the hair at his nape, before humming softly and contently.
“I was right,” Panther said softly. “You are a god, if an arrogant one.”
Draco made a muffled noise before opening his eyes to stare at the table beneath the stranger’s face. Something wasn’t right.
“I should have known you would pick a dragon, though,” the voice informed him.
Something about it was very familiar, now that the husk of desire was gone. The sated smugness of the tone was oddly recognisable.
Then the words caught up with him and he stiffened. He pushed himself up, off of Panther and pulled out, stepping back abruptly and righting, tucking himself away. He stared at the man with narrowed eyes. The man blinked back at him, painfully innocent.
“You called me Draco,” the blond said sharply. Though the stranger was wearing a mask, Draco could still see the sudden flush of red on his face.
“It means Dragon, you know,” he tried to argue for a moment, but Draco shook his head.
“Who the fuck are you?”
As soon as he’d asked, it was too obvious, and he shook his head at the unspoken name on the air. He stepped back, nimbly fastening his robes.
The man sat up, his black hair no longer artfully spiked but completely unruly. The glamour over his eyes flickered and faded out of existence. Now, they were no longer dark green but very bright, and too unique.
Draco’s blood ran cold. “Oh no, no, no, no…”
The man got to his feet and shook his head, his eyes wide.
“You can’t tell me -” he began, but Draco glared at him and clenched his teeth.
“Why?” he snapped sharply. “Why the fuck would you do this?” He shook his head violently and stumbled back. “I can’t believe… no, no, you…”
Draco babbled, unable to finish any sentence he started. Fear and horror flooded him, mixed with not a tiny amount of hurt. He pulled out his wand and glared at the man.
“Fuck you, Potter.”
Then he Disapparated.
+++++
New Year’s Eve was not at all like Draco pictured it. Gilded Gatherings had organized a two-day celebration for the Ministry, complete with champagne fountains, cherub choirs singing Auld Lang Syne, a massive countdown clock and a shower of pixie dust that would explode from the floating lanterns as soon as the clock struck twelve.
But Draco had not attended. He had had no interest in going to any of the Ministry Yule celebrations; not since Mummer’s Day.
He was sitting on his sofa, slumped down, and staring into the fire. He was nursing a glass of Firewhisky, while trying to figure out how he had done what he had done. The whole situation with Panther and the Mummer’s Day celebration was ridiculous, really.
He felt strangely used and hurt. He didn’t think he had reason to be, though. He had intended to use whoever he seduced, anyway, hadn’t he? He was just indignant because he hadn’t been the one in control, wasn’t he?
That’s not true, you fool. You know it’s not.
Draco downed the amber liquid and placed the empty glass on the glossy table before him. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands.
He was so angry with himself that he had spent the last five days holed up in his house, alone. His parents were in Norway for the holidays, and he had no one he wanted to spend the time with.
Perhaps you have.
Draco cursed the traitorous voice in his mind and screwed his eyes shut. Potter had always been it. Potter had always been - Potter had alwaysbeen.
Draco just couldn’t understand why he had done what he had done. Why would he lie to Draco and seduce him? Why let Draco fuck him without knowing? Was it all a trap? A game to mess with Draco’s mind?
It was entirely possible. That was one of the reasons Draco had fled. He couldn’t face the humiliation of having fucked Potter and been deceived. He had tricked Draco into believing that he wanted him. Potter had - Potter had kissed him.
Draco never allowed any of his one-offs to kiss him. Fucking could be clinical, but kissing was intimate. Potter, of course, broke all the bloody rules and kissed him.
And Draco had let him. He had been wholly absorbed in the act.
He pushed his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Potter symbolised everything Draco could never have. He was the golden boy of the Ministry, shining light of the wizarding world; surrounded by friends and loved ones. He had everything he could want and fucking Draco was just a way of dragging his face through the mud.
Look, I’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted. Now I’m going to dangle it all in front of your face, and then snatch it away.
The problem was that no matter how angry Draco was, he couldn’t stop thinking about Potter; about the look in his eyes, about the way he had held Draco, about the kiss.
The grandfather clock in the corner struck twelve solemnly, and Draco held up his empty glass to the fire.
“Happy New Year,” he said bitterly, raising it to his lips before realising it was empty. “Fucking figures.”
He had nothing this year. He was empty.
Draco groaned and attempted to force away the maudlin thoughts, trying to convince himself that they were a result of the admittedly copious amounts of alcohol he had imbibed, when the wards jingled an unpleasantly perky tune.
“What?” Draco asked no one, glancing at the door to the hall. Someone had decided to ring him now? At midnight?
Draco pulled out his wand, knowing that, if it came to it, he would probably not be able to adequately defend himself, but it was a good way to bluff.
He walked out to the hall and padded down toward the entryway. Glancing out, he could only make out the shape of a person.
Oh good, so it’s not Nargles ringing my bell.
Draco had never been quite sure about what had possessed him to hire Luna Lovegood. He pressed his fingertips to his temple before opening the door.
There, in the thickly falling snow, stood, unmistakably, Harry Potter.
Draco blinked several times. When Potter offered him a shy smile, shrugging his shoulders, Draco glared and set his jaw.
“I’m not interested in what you’re selling,” Draco snapped and tried to shut the door. Potter reached out and stopped it with a hand. He looked guilty and regretful.
“Draco, wait,” he started to say. Draco jerked the door out of his reach and squared his shoulders.
“What do you want?” he snapped coldly. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“This is where I need to be,” Potter replied quietly. He bit his lip and Draco tried not to find it appealing. He maintained his glare as well as he could.
Potter glanced behind Draco and then to the side. “Er, you don’t have any visitors, do you?”
“No,” Draco sneered. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Potter winced, but then set his expression and stepped forward.
“Right then,” he said, pushing past Draco as he walked into the hall. Draco stumbled and spluttered.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, holding his wand, though he was unable to raise it to Potter. The man tried to smile without looking unsure, but didn’t quite manage.
“I’m completing a Winter solstice ceremony,” he explained weakly. Draco stared at him. Potter shifted and held out a bottle of Firewhisky with a purple bow around the neck. Draco eyed it.
“It’s for Hogmanay.”
Draco glanced back up at him, one eyebrow arched in question.
Potter blushed. “It’s a Scottish ritual. First footing,” he said, by way of explanation. Draco crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “Er, well, it happens just after midnight on New Year’s Eve. It involves being the first person to cross the threshold of a friend or neighbour and offer them a gift of good tidings for the New Year.” He held up the whisky again.
“You intend for me to spend my New Year pissed?” Draco asked, nodding to the bottle.
Potter flushed darker and shook his head, then rolled his eyes. It was a strange mix of gestures.
“No, prat,” he answered. “It’s symbolic. A drink, to toast. I also have,” he began, before rifling through his pockets. “A piece of coal, so the house will always be warm. A parcel of shortbread cookies, so you’ll never go hungry this year and a silver Sickle, so that this year will bring you prosperity.”
He held out the assorted items proudly and Draco considered them, before looking back up at Potter with an unreadable expression.
“That’s all fine and dandy, Potter,” he replied, his voice still hard. He wasn’t sure what kind of trick this was, but he was sure there was one. “But there is a problem. I am neither your neighbour nor your friend.”
Potter shifted and nibbled on his lower lip again. He nodded and tilted his head. Draco tried to convince himself that none of this was endearing at all.
“Yeah, well, I was hoping,” Potter began offhandedly. “That you could actually be more than that…”
Draco’s eyes widened a fraction as he stared at his old school rival.
Potter smiled nervously. “See, I didn’t realise you didn’t recognise me, and well … I’ve been trying to meet with you for a year now, but you never agreed to it and … I thought when you saw me, you’d finally come around, and… bloody hell, I’m pants at this.”
Draco’s mouth slowly shifted from a hard line into a small smile as Potter babbled. He took a step forward and studied Potter seriously.
Was he serious? He wasn’t playing games or intending to hurt Draco at all? Humiliate him, perhaps?
Draco wasn’t sure how this could humiliate him, but he was sure there was a way. But Potter had brought gifts for good tidings and gone through all that trouble and…
“You want -” Draco began slowly, testing the words on his tongue before speaking them out loud, “- to be with me?” Potter waited expectantly as Draco thought it out. “But you hated me.”
“I was obsessed with you,” Harry amended. “After … well everything, I realised I had no reason to think about you all the time anymore, but I still did. And then Luna told me how funny you can be, and I figured it out. I want to be with you, Draco.”
So that’s why I hired Lovegood.
Draco took a deep breath and then licked his lips. He reached out and took the bottle of Firewhisky from Potter’s hand, cocking his head to the side.
“Hogmanay demands that I welcome you in,” he replied with a smirk. Potter’s eyes widened before a look of mild confusion set in.
Draco stepped even closer. “But I’ve never liked handshakes.”
He reached around and pulled Harry into a kiss, their lips meeting smoothly before parting. Draco slid his tongue into Harry’s mouth and tasted him, without the taint of alcohol. He pressed up against the other man and felt two arms wrap around him in response, pushing him back slowly against a nearby wall.
“I discovered something else,” Harry said after a long while, pulling away just far enough to press their foreheads against one another.
Draco smiled. “What’s that?”
Harry smirked mischievously and then attempted to look nonchalant.
“Well, Antipodean Opaleyes aren’t really all that big, you see,” he explained carefully, studying Draco for a reaction. “And it’s possible that Nundus are larger than that particular breed of dragon.”
Draco quirked a brow and leaned his head back to consider Harry. He smiled, recognising a challenge.
“Really?” he asked softly. “Let’s go find out.”
-----
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no subject
Date: 2009-12-15 02:23 pm (UTC)Such a nice sweet start for the boys.
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Date: 2009-12-15 06:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-15 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 05:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:06 pm (UTC)