H/D Fic: Stocking Stuffers for hd_seasons

[nursedarry]

Happy New Year, everyone!


Here are the two ficlets I wrote for hd_seasons' stocking stuffers based on prompts from these two lovely ladies. Hope you like them! As ever, thank you to my lovely betas ♥


Title: Jack… Frost
For: lonewhiterose
Rated: R
Word Count: ~2240
Summary: Christmases come and Christmases go…



“What? We’ll be the only two people here on Boxing Day?” Draco looked around the common room with a frown.

“Looks that way, Malfoy. Best make the most of it.” Harry burrowed further into the large squashy armchair.

“Most of what?” Draco asked with a sneer. “You have two-thirds of a bottle of whatever that stuff is, and I’ve got a half of a box of posh chocolates. What a great party we can have…” Draco sat in one of the not-so-squashy wingback chairs opposite.

“Speak for yourself. This stuff is lethal,” Harry hissed around a mouthful.

“What is it?”

“Jack Daniels. It’s a present from Hermione and Ginny. They gave it to me just before they left to spend the holidays with Ron and Neville. What are those?” Harry eyed the expensive-looking box in Draco’s hand.

“Belgian truffles. Pansy gave them to me just before she left to spend the holidays with Blaise. You’re not seriously telling me Granger gave you spirits for a Christmas present?” Draco leaned forward to look more closely at the bottle Harry was clutching.

“Ginny nicked the bottle from her father’s collection of Muggle artefacts and Hermione gave me a book about Appalachia. That’s somewhere in the States where this stuff is made. I haven’t read it yet.”

“Didn’t stop you from researching in other ways, I see.” Draco smirked.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry took another burning gulp of spirits, then wiped his hand across his mouth.

“Ugh, Potter, I see your manners haven’t improved since the war, even if your attitude has,” Draco said.

Harry tried to look crossly at Draco but feared the expression came across more as half-pissed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“At least you’re not as much of a prat as you were,” Draco clarified.

“Pot, cauldron, Ferret-face.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, finally broken when Draco sighed and leaned forward. “I suppose we’re going to just have to make the best of it. Give me some of that, then.”

“No,” Harry said belligerently. And then belched.

“All right. Here.” Draco held out the box of chocolates.

“What’s with you, Malfoy?”

“I’m just trying to be…sociable.”

With somewhat shaky hands, Harry reached across the space between them and snagged a truffle from the tray within the box. Without thinking, he popped it into his mouth.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy. These are full of brandy or something!”

“I’m surprised you know what that is,” Draco teased.

“Shut UP, Malfoy!” Harry glared, but then his expression softened and he handed Draco the bottle.

Draco took it gingerly from him, wiped the open top with his hand, and drank directly from it. To Harry’s half-inebriated mind, it looked bizarrely satisfying to see someone so posh do something so common.

“Merlin, Potter, you might as well go to the hospital wing right now.” Draco sputtered around his mouthful of bourbon.

“Give it a rest, please?” Harry asked wearily. He was suddenly tired. Tired of it all.

“What? Did you just say please?”

“Whatever, Malfoy. I’m not going to ruin a perfectly good night of drinking by fighting with you. I really like Muggle alcohol. And this is the first Christmas holiday I can spend getting drunk without having to worry about someone trying to kill me. So you can either be quiet or go away. I like this stuff. You like your chocolates.” Harry tried not to sound petulant or sulk, but Draco made it so easy.

“All right, fine. I’ll be quiet.”

Harry was so flabbergasted by the remark that, for a moment, he thought he had passed out and was dreaming. Instead he nervously said, “Thanks. Want another drink of this?”

Draco stared back at him just as dazed by Harry’s response to his capitulation.

“Yeah, go on, then.” Draco held out his hand.

~*~

“Cedric? Are you serious? I can’t believe it!” Draco's cheeks were warming from the effects of the alcohol and the firelight. Maybe the company and conversation, too, although Harry wasn’t sure.

“Believe it. I was as shocked as you are,” Harry confessed.

“And then you thought you’d have a go with his girlfriend.”

Now Harry’s cheeks pinked at the painful memory. “Big mistake. I guess I thought I could bring part of him back. But I couldn’t.” He didn’t elaborate, and could feel himself falling into a moment he didn’t want to particularly relive. So he turned the tables in an effort to lighten the mood again. “Come on, then. Who did you first fancy? No wait, I bet I can guess. Snape.”

“Potter, I should hex you for saying that!” Draco cried. He looked genuinely upset. Harry wondered if he’d gone too far. After all, Snape and Cedric had shared the same destiny.

“Well, that’s how it seemed to me. And everyone else,” Harry said in an effort to justify his views.

Draco finally smiled again. “Hardly. I like…”

Harry pounced. “Who?”

“No, I’m not telling you.” Draco sat back with the bottle in his hands. “You’ll just make fun of me.”

“Malfoy, I’m going to do that anyway.” Harry gestured for the bottle.

Draco handed it to him and slowly said, “I like… I like Quidditch players.”

“I knew it! You had a thing for Flint!”

Draco’s face crumpled into a grimace. “No.”

“Hooch?” Harry couldn’t help it. He followed this comment with a burst of maniacal laughter.

“Potter, please.”

Harry swallowed another mouthful of the liquor. “Krum?”

“No, he was Weasley’s wet dream, remember?” Draco said.

Harry laughed again, this time with pure amusement. “Malfoy, Ron would hex your balls off if he heard you say that. So would Hermione.”

Malfoy frowned. “I’m not telling you now. You’re being rude. More rude than usual.”

“C’mon Malfoy, please.” Harry made puppy-dog eyes. Drunk puppy-dog eyes.

Draco nearly whispered. “Oliver Wood.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Harry was gobsmacked. “Wow. So…did you ever…you know…do anything about it?”

“Besides wank myself raw during first year?”

“God, Malfoy.” Something in Harry’s chest, not at all connected with the alcohol, began to burn.

“No, I never did anything about it. Are you kidding, Potter? He’d left school and he was a Gryffindor. Do you think I’d stoop that low?” Then, Draco’s features softened. “I might have carried the Magpies’ 1995 team photo around with me for awhile.”

Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was joking, but he didn’t think so. He shared a conspiratorial smile with him and handed the bottle back again. “And now – the war is over. You claim to be reformed and that Houses don’t matter anymore. Why not go after him?”

“I don’t fancy him anymore,” Draco said simply.

“Who do you fancy now?”

“I’m not telling.” Draco passed the bottle back and said no more.

“Yes, you are,” Harry insisted.

Draco shook his head. “Who do you fancy?”

Harry thought for a moment. “I…I don’t know. I guess I think about a lot of people.”

“Come on, Potter. Who do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“God, Malfoy.” Harry’s cheeks coloured and his chest constricted even further at Draco’s words. The question sounded so innocent and dirty at the same time. “I’m not telling you!”

“I bet it’s someone really vile.”

“No, it isn’t. In fact, it’s not even one person. Sometimes it’s—” Harry immediately stopped talking. He was pretty sure he wasn’t that drunk.

“Yes?”

Harry took another gulp of bourbon. “—Charlie Weasley.”

“Ha! And?”

“Sometimes it’s…”

“Yes? Out with it, Potter!”

“…sometimesit’syou.”

Draco was silent for so long, Harry thought he’d been wandlessly Stupified by the shock of the confession.

Finally, Draco blinked. “Me? Really?”

Harry turned his head and looked out the frosty window to avoid making eye contact, not that he’d have been able to focus properly anyway. When he heard movement, he turned back, sure that Draco was leaving the room in disgust. Instead, he found Draco kneeling in front of him, hands on the armrests of the chair, effectively trapping Harry.

Draco locked eyes with him. Harry could smell the brandy on his breath. “Show me.”

Harry couldn’t help it; he barked out a laugh. “What?”

“I want to see you. I want to see what you look like when you’re wanking.” Draco’s focus shifted to the growing bulge in Harry’s jeans.

Harry forgot about the drink. He forgot about Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Charlie. All he could think about, all he could see was the sheen of Draco’s hair in the firelight, the pale skin of his hands as they gripped the chair, and then only the pink of his lips as they moved nearer and nearer to Harry’s face.

Harry closed his eyes; now he was the one Stupified. The taste of chocolate, brandy, and bourbon filtered through his muzzy senses.

The feel of Draco’s tongue in his mouth jolted him out of his trance. Harry’s hands, unaided by conscious thought, rose and pressed themselves to the sides of Draco’s face. Harry’s lips pressed back against Draco’s now. Whatever hallucination the combination of sweets and alcohol was allowing him, he was determined to see it through. Dammit, he’d earned this. If Malfoy came in and found him dead in this chair in the morning, so be it.

But it felt as though Draco was there with him. Or at least someone was. Harry could feel arms slide around him and squeeze, then pull the shirt from his trousers. He chanced opening his eyes when he felt a warm tongue and soft lips attach themselves to his neck. Bloody hell, it was still Draco there with him. Harry hesitantly put his arms around the other boy’s neck and spread his knees apart. Draco rose to his own knees and leaned into the chair. His lips left Harry’s neck and they just held each other, cuddling. For hours, it seemed.

Finally, the painful press of the bottle against Harry’s thigh brought him back to reality. “Er…” he said, and Draco sat back, watching him with an unsure expression. Harry’s arms left Draco’s shoulders and he picked up the bottle. Just one more sip, yes, that’s what he needed. Draco watched him, smirking but silent. Harry nearly splattered drink all over himself when he felt fingers at the waistband of his jeans. He unconsciously sat up straighter, allowing Draco better access. An idea occurred to him and he scooted forward to the edge of the chair. He set down the bottle, then reached out for the fastening of Draco’s robes. He wore soft pyjamas underneath. Harry hesitantly slid a hand into the bottoms.

“Ah!” Draco cried, and the hands at Harry’s waist fumbled in their task. Draco gulped air and dragged his gaze from Harry’s eyes to the task in hand. Clumsily, he pushed Harry’s clothes away and grabbed at the hard flesh he found within.

Harry leaned forward again, gasping into Draco’s mouth. “Oh my god…”

Still kissing each other like there was no tomorrow, and with Draco’s hand still wrapped around Harry’s cock, he crawled up Harry’s body until he was straddling him in the chair. Harry increased the pressure on Draco’s cock, leaning back and making room for Draco’s thighs on either side of him.

When they were comfortable, they started stroking each other. “Lke pthis?” Draco asked around Harry’s tongue. “Is thiss fwhat thyou thdo?”

“Gnhdgh, ythssss…” sighed Harry into Draco’s mouth.

*** Fifteen years later***

“Hurry up, Malfoy,” Harry demanded. “The students will be in soon.” The ghosts couldn’t be counted on to keep them out of the room for long.

“Stop…talking…Potter…” Draco said through clenched teeth, as he rose and fell on top of Harry’s lap.

The Headmaster’s chair in the Great Hall was not the most comfortable, indeed, the most appropriate of places for an impromptu Christmas shag, but they couldn’t resist.

Harry’s festive dress robes were in danger of being irrevocably creased, and Draco’s knees were starting to hurt; after all, he wasn’t eighteen anymore. Harry threw his head back as Draco moved just so. He tried to keep his eyes open to appreciate the lovely ceiling, snow falling from it toward the tables, but then Draco grabbed his face and kissed him hard and they were both lost…

“Holy Merlin, Malfoy, that was amazing. You’re amazing.” Harry panted rapidly, his body still shaking with orgasmic aftershocks.

Draco clenched his muscles around Harry’s cock one final time, then carefully lifted himself off the Headmaster and off the Headmaster’s chair. “The things I do for House points,” he said, as he pulled up his trousers and adjusted his robes.

Harry laughed affectionately. The room filled with food and drink and Christmas music.

Draco sat down in his chair next to Harry’s.

“You’re the Potions Master,” Harry said, turning to him and planting a final kiss on Draco’s lips. “What kind of bizarre Christmas cocktail have you fashioned for the staff this year?”

The children began spilling in through the (now) open doors of the Great Hall, their eyes wide and their spirits high.

“Your favourite,” Draco said, nodding at his charges as they sat down at their table decked out in shiny green and silver ribbons.

Harry turned back from greeting Madam Hooch as she took her seat on the other side of him. He chanced a sip of his drink and laughed: it was Jack Daniels over ice.

“Draco,” Harry said, leaning over the other man to whisper in confidence. “You’re my favourite.”

The End


Title: Potter au Chocolat
For: lilyginny27
Rated: R
Word Count: ~900
Summary: It’s the thought that counts.




“Why does shit always happen to me?” Potter moaned as he wiped the sticky brown substance from his glasses. He had asked Draco to help him melt chocolate to mould into little Quidditch-related novelties for the team, but once again, things hadn’t gone the way he’d planned.


“This is hardly shit, Potter. Need I tell you that you have wasted several Galleons worth of the finest chocolate in an attempt to please your little friends? Why you didn’t just buy them a box of the things and be done with it, I’ll never know…” Draco used his wand to tidy up the remnants of the sweet-smelling liquid from the desk and around the outside of the cauldron. Both boys were also covered in it. He watched as Potter made a pig’s ear of wiping it off his face.


“Are you sure this can’t be used?” Potter asked, inspecting a chocolate-covered finger. He made to wipe it on the edge of the cauldron, but Draco stopped him by grabbing his hand.


“No, Potter!” He almost shouted. “Don’t! It’s slightly burnt and you’ll ruin the taste.” Potter looked sceptical. “Did you ask me to help you because I’m good at Potions or did you just come down here to play with Professor Snape’s equipment? He smirked at Potter’s disgusted expression. “I thought so,” Draco continued. “So, you either go and get more chocolate or make due with something else, because this won’t work now.”


Potter looked dejected. Draco almost felt sorry for him; after all, it must have taken some courage to have come knocking on the Dungeon door and ask for Draco’s help in the first place, and now this…


“Damn,” Potter sighed. “I can’t believe I’ve bollocksed this up, as well. I’m never going to be any good at Potions. And I’ve wasted all of this expensive chocolate.” He moved to stick his chocolate-covered finger into his mouth.


Draco impetuously grabbed Potter’s arm and pulled it to his face. As he watched Potter’s eyes become as big as saucers behind his ridiculous glasses, Draco sucked the chocolate from Potter’s finger.


“I...uh…ohhhhh…” Potter said, as Draco swirled his tongue around. “Malfoy…” he whispered, as Draco stepped closer and licked the chocolate directly from Potter’s cheek.


Potter reached up and turned Draco’s head, covering his mouth with his own. Now it was Draco’s chance to hum in pleasure. When they finally parted, Draco looked down at his shoes.


“I – uh – Potter, I hope you don’t get the wrong idea…I just didn’t want that to go to waste…” He said no more as Potter went to work on the streaks of chocolate on Draco’s neck.


*


“I’ve brought coffee and pastries,” Potter said, as he pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and set the tray down on Draco’s bed.


“Did anyone ask you where you’ve been all this time?” Draco asked. He took a delicate bite of pastry and watched as Potter’s eyes followed his every movement.


“I didn’t bother taking the Cloak off,” Potter confessed. “It’s snowed again, so everyone was out playing. I’m sure no one realised I’ve been missing.” He shrugged out of his trousers and climbed into bed next to Draco. Then he disappeared under the covers and Draco nearly dropped his mug of steaming coffee.


“Potter!” He squeaked. “What are you doing down there?”


“What does it feel like?” Potter’s disembodied voice rose from under the duvet.


“Feels like you’re moving on from licking chocolate from my face and chest. Guh!” Draco quickly set aside his mug as he felt his sticky trousers pulled down and his cock swallowed up in Potter’s mouth.


After frotting themselves to orgasm in the Potions classroom, Draco had led Potter back here under his Cloak for a snack and perhaps to talk about what had happened, but Potter obviously had other things on his mind. No bother, Draco was happy work with this new plan.


Potter’s mouth moved southwards and Draco groaned in pleasure. He allowed Potter to pull his trousers over his hips and Potter re-settled himself between Draco’s legs. Draco tried not to grab at Potter’s duvet-covered form as he felt the other boy's tongue acquaint itself with Draco’s balls. But when Potter’s tongue moved even lower, Draco lost all control and the mug of coffee crashed to the floor. Draco tried to reign in his waving arms, but instead they thrashed around while Potter’s hand found Draco’s cock.


*


Draco’s arse hurt, but in such a good way, he couldn’t keep the little smile off his face for more than a few seconds. He shifted again and looked over at the Gryffindor table. Now at dinner the night before they would leave for the Christmas holidays, he watched as Potter presented his Quidditch team with their presents.


Pansy looked at him. “What’s so interesting over there?” She turned her head and followed his gaze. “Broomstick polish and twig-trimmers. How original of Potter. No wonder the girls gave up on him; not a romantic bone in his body.”


Draco leaned over, again with a small smile to himself at the slight twinge, then handed Pansy a decorative box. He looked again at the Gryffindor table, just in time to see Potter look over at him and cock his head toward the door.


“Chocolates! That’s what I’m talking about. Thank you, Draco,” Pansy said as he left the table.


The End