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nursedarryHAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drippingcherry and leo_draconis!!! Leo, have a little lookie in your in-tray, there should be something there from a well-known Internet store :) And Cherry, this is for you: treacle_tartlet bullied me into writing a sequel to Was It Something I Said?, my H/D flannel-jammie hospital hissy!fic.
Title: Pillow Talk
Rating: Just barely R
Word Count: 892
Notes: Betas of fabdelphipsmith and cassie_black12.
The lamps cast long shadows in the office from their sconces on the walls. The ward beyond was lit only by a small candle burning beside the door to the corridor which led into the school proper. It did its best to illuminate the path to the office, but the beds on either side were left in semi-darkness.
“Perhaps you need something stronger in that tea, Poppy,” her guest suggested.
The nurse laughed as Rolanda Hooch took out a flask from her robe.
“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.” Poppy declined the offer, and pushed a plate of shortbread across the desk toward Rolanda.
Rolanda made a snide comment about the healing power of love. Poppy countered with Rolanda’s knack for spotting a healthy competitive spirit.
From the corner of the room, Poppy’s owl, Florence, hooted her resentment at being left out of the exchange of conversation and treats, particularly as she had been pressed into work that night and had therefore missed her second supper at its usual time.
~~~~~
Earlier, Poppy’s wand had vibrated violently, alerting her that Potter had regained consciousness. She moved towards his bedside to cast a diagnostic spell to ensure there was no residual loss of magic or other untoward consequences of his protracted coma. Poppy was adept at going about overnight duties as quietly as possible. Just as well, as she knew her other patient would be surly if woken by her actions. It was doubly lucky, then, that neither boy saw her approach and stop short, stare briefly at Malfoy’s bed, then flick her wand and quickly take the necessary observations. Her duties complete, Poppy retreated to her office, unable to keep a smile off her face.
Then she sent her owl to Rolanda as quickly as possible.
~~~~~
Malfoy had climbed into his bed and insisted Harry keep talking to him. Harry took him into his arms and whispered things, things he’d never thought he’d say to anyone, but which he could no longer hold back. He spoke in Parseltongue which Malfoy didn’t understand, but which made him hard again. That made Harry hard, and his whispering turned into murmuring, which gave way to long, soft wet kisses.
Now, Malfoy held him close, but rather than tearing at each other in haste this time, they moved slowly, with shy smiles and questing fingers. They explored each other’s bodies and marvelled in the expressions they saw in each other’s faces.
Harry pushed their soft flannel pyjama bottoms aside and took both their cocks in his hand.
“Couldn’t lose you,” Malfoy admitted into Harry’s hair, between gasps, as he strained against him.
“You won’t,” Harry assured him, panting and pulling on their flesh. “You won’t, you won’t, you won’t…”
Malfoy slid from his grasp and moved down Harry's body like a snake. “Quiet,” he warned, his voice muffled by the intervening blankets. “You’ll bring that damned nurse running over.” He said no more and swallowed up Harry’s cock.
Despite just being reprimanded for making too much noise, Harry gasped with pleasure. Nothing, nothing in his experience had prepared him for this. He moaned and gurgled, alternately speaking nonsense and hissing in Parseltongue — then he came, swearing at the ceiling, his fingers tangled in soft blond hair.
From below, he heard Draco sputter and cough, and he pulled the other boy up to him quickly, keen to return the favour before they were discovered.
~~~~~
They were sleeping, wrapped around one another in a flannel cocoon when Rolanda Hooch left the infirmary. This time she tip-toed down the length of the ward to the door, rather than use the office window as she had when she arrived.
~~~~~
Later, Harry watched Malfoy pretend to sleep. Aware that Malfoy enjoyed the sensation, and revelling in how much he did too, Harry idly twirled a lock of silvery hair around his finger. He wondered what the future held for them now; they couldn’t stay here forever.
As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey quietly approached. Oddly, rather than bolting from his side, Malfoy just pulled Harry closer.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, boys,” the nurse said gently, setting her lamp on the table between their two beds and flicking her wand in Harry’s direction. After a moment, she said, “Mr Potter, as you’re probably well aware by now, you’re perfectly fine.” Harry blushed and tried to not-so-subtly burrow deeper under the covers. He succeeded only in further tangling his fingers in Malfoy’s hair.
“Ow, Potter, watch what you’re doing!” Malfoy snarled, reaching up to disengage Harry’s hand from his head. Either he chose to ignore the nurse’s presence or was in too much pain to care about it.
“Mr Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey continued, “aside from this latest injury,” she gestured to his scalp, “how are you feeling today?”
Malfoy blushed and murmured something that sounded like “’m’alrite.”
“Good. Mr Potter, I’ll need to inform the Headmistress of your return to consciousness and your present condition, and no doubt your friends will also want to visit once they’ve heard you’re awake.” Malfoy released Harry and began to sit up. Madam Pomfrey put out her hand and stopped him. Then she reached down to the table and retrieved her lamp. “But that can wait until after breakfast, don’t you think?” She turned and walked down the ward toward her office.
The End
♦
In other news...
Tickets to the States next spring have been booked! I'm dragging the poor, unsuspectingcassie_black12 and alovelycupoftea over with my children and me to visit my parents, friends and EVERY FANGIRL AND BOY WE CAN MEET! We'll be in Chicago (11-14 April), Kansas City (14-18 April), and the Seattle area (18-25 April), so if you're there, shout! dysonrules is forcing us to has suggested we attend NorWesCon, so that's where we'll be winding up this party. Hope to see you! *cries about not being able to kidnap jtsbbsps_dk and go to Yaoi.con*
♦
THANK YOU to the awesome people who nomm'd me and have been voting for me at the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dracoawards. I have an H/D story here and my Draco/James Sirus story here, if anyone feels like clickity-clicking ticky boxes. I'm chuffed that these were so well-received; I had so much fun writing them. It's especially poignant to note that Out on the Tiles was the last fest fic I've written, and that Rising Up Through the Air was my first.
♦
banner byjoan_waterhouse
Will we see you there? *you're supposed to nod now*
♦
drippingcherry and leo_draconis!!! Leo, have a little lookie in your in-tray, there should be something there from a well-known Internet store :) And Cherry, this is for you: treacle_tartlet bullied me into writing a sequel to Was It Something I Said?, my H/D flannel-jammie hospital hissy!fic. Title: Pillow Talk
Rating: Just barely R
Word Count: 892
Notes: Betas of fab
delphipsmith and cassie_black12. The lamps cast long shadows in the office from their sconces on the walls. The ward beyond was lit only by a small candle burning beside the door to the corridor which led into the school proper. It did its best to illuminate the path to the office, but the beds on either side were left in semi-darkness.
“Perhaps you need something stronger in that tea, Poppy,” her guest suggested.
The nurse laughed as Rolanda Hooch took out a flask from her robe.
“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.” Poppy declined the offer, and pushed a plate of shortbread across the desk toward Rolanda.
Rolanda made a snide comment about the healing power of love. Poppy countered with Rolanda’s knack for spotting a healthy competitive spirit.
From the corner of the room, Poppy’s owl, Florence, hooted her resentment at being left out of the exchange of conversation and treats, particularly as she had been pressed into work that night and had therefore missed her second supper at its usual time.
Earlier, Poppy’s wand had vibrated violently, alerting her that Potter had regained consciousness. She moved towards his bedside to cast a diagnostic spell to ensure there was no residual loss of magic or other untoward consequences of his protracted coma. Poppy was adept at going about overnight duties as quietly as possible. Just as well, as she knew her other patient would be surly if woken by her actions. It was doubly lucky, then, that neither boy saw her approach and stop short, stare briefly at Malfoy’s bed, then flick her wand and quickly take the necessary observations. Her duties complete, Poppy retreated to her office, unable to keep a smile off her face.
Then she sent her owl to Rolanda as quickly as possible.
Malfoy had climbed into his bed and insisted Harry keep talking to him. Harry took him into his arms and whispered things, things he’d never thought he’d say to anyone, but which he could no longer hold back. He spoke in Parseltongue which Malfoy didn’t understand, but which made him hard again. That made Harry hard, and his whispering turned into murmuring, which gave way to long, soft wet kisses.
Now, Malfoy held him close, but rather than tearing at each other in haste this time, they moved slowly, with shy smiles and questing fingers. They explored each other’s bodies and marvelled in the expressions they saw in each other’s faces.
Harry pushed their soft flannel pyjama bottoms aside and took both their cocks in his hand.
“Couldn’t lose you,” Malfoy admitted into Harry’s hair, between gasps, as he strained against him.
“You won’t,” Harry assured him, panting and pulling on their flesh. “You won’t, you won’t, you won’t…”
Malfoy slid from his grasp and moved down Harry's body like a snake. “Quiet,” he warned, his voice muffled by the intervening blankets. “You’ll bring that damned nurse running over.” He said no more and swallowed up Harry’s cock.
Despite just being reprimanded for making too much noise, Harry gasped with pleasure. Nothing, nothing in his experience had prepared him for this. He moaned and gurgled, alternately speaking nonsense and hissing in Parseltongue — then he came, swearing at the ceiling, his fingers tangled in soft blond hair.
From below, he heard Draco sputter and cough, and he pulled the other boy up to him quickly, keen to return the favour before they were discovered.
They were sleeping, wrapped around one another in a flannel cocoon when Rolanda Hooch left the infirmary. This time she tip-toed down the length of the ward to the door, rather than use the office window as she had when she arrived.
Later, Harry watched Malfoy pretend to sleep. Aware that Malfoy enjoyed the sensation, and revelling in how much he did too, Harry idly twirled a lock of silvery hair around his finger. He wondered what the future held for them now; they couldn’t stay here forever.
As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey quietly approached. Oddly, rather than bolting from his side, Malfoy just pulled Harry closer.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, boys,” the nurse said gently, setting her lamp on the table between their two beds and flicking her wand in Harry’s direction. After a moment, she said, “Mr Potter, as you’re probably well aware by now, you’re perfectly fine.” Harry blushed and tried to not-so-subtly burrow deeper under the covers. He succeeded only in further tangling his fingers in Malfoy’s hair.
“Ow, Potter, watch what you’re doing!” Malfoy snarled, reaching up to disengage Harry’s hand from his head. Either he chose to ignore the nurse’s presence or was in too much pain to care about it.
“Mr Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey continued, “aside from this latest injury,” she gestured to his scalp, “how are you feeling today?”
Malfoy blushed and murmured something that sounded like “’m’alrite.”
“Good. Mr Potter, I’ll need to inform the Headmistress of your return to consciousness and your present condition, and no doubt your friends will also want to visit once they’ve heard you’re awake.” Malfoy released Harry and began to sit up. Madam Pomfrey put out her hand and stopped him. Then she reached down to the table and retrieved her lamp. “But that can wait until after breakfast, don’t you think?” She turned and walked down the ward toward her office.
The End
In other news...
Tickets to the States next spring have been booked! I'm dragging the poor, unsuspecting
cassie_black12 and alovelycupoftea over with my children and me to visit my parents, friends and EVERY FANGIRL AND BOY WE CAN MEET! We'll be in Chicago (11-14 April), Kansas City (14-18 April), and the Seattle area (18-25 April), so if you're there, shout! dysonrules jtsbbsps_dk and go to Yaoi.con*THANK YOU to the awesome people who nomm'd me and have been voting for me at the
dracoawards. I have an H/D story here and my Draco/James Sirus story here, if anyone feels like clickity-clicking ticky boxes. I'm chuffed that these were so well-received; I had so much fun writing them. It's especially poignant to note that Out on the Tiles was the last fest fic I've written, and that Rising Up Through the Air was my first. banner by
joan_waterhouse♦
