Title: Thank you, Draco
Summary: Draco’s latest oddity is sleep-travelling to weird and wonderful, sometimes dangerous places with no way home. It takes a combination of Muggle technology and winning the man of his dreams to keep him safe.
Rating: R for language and suggestion
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Epilogue compliant? NOPE, not even close.
Word Count: 5400
Author's Notes: Hey, Pinkelephant, hopefully you’ll like this. It has several things from your prompt, notably someone being rescued (several times in fact) and some Muggle technology. Please forgive me if this so called Muggle technology doesn’t actually work as designed in this little story; I’m hoping that the cute factor outweighs any licence I may have taken.
Beta’ed by my beautiful ali_wilde whom I love with all the room in my heart. If there are mistakes, readers, they are my fault as I hit myself over the head and fixed a plothole (one of many, probably) after she so brilliantly corrected thousands of punctuation errors. I jest (not really).
Anyway, readers, suspend your disbelief and enjoy.
‘You have reached the voicemail of Draco Malfoy. I am unable to take your call at the moment because I am stuck in some weird underground bunker that smells of fucking old socks. Please, if you have any idea where I am, send help. Thank you. Leave your name and number and I shall call you back if I live long enough to get a damned signal on this phone.’
Draco tossed aside the mobile phone and it landed in the sand that made up the floor of the underground…whatever it was… he found himself in. He was only marginally thankful for the sand on the floor and not hard rock where the phone would have smashed into pieces. Useless as it was without a proper signal, Draco clung to a sliver of hope in the small package of wires and other odd metal thingummybobs that made up a mobile phone.
The Muggle sales person he’d purchased it from promised him it included a GPS which, from the explanation, seemed like it was some highly technical term for a locator spell. A service Draco sorely needed these days, seeing as over the past few months he’d found himself waking up in places he’d never been before. The last time it happened, Draco found himself at the top of a rather large mountain, clad only in his pyjamas and without his wand. If it hadn’t been for a couple of professional mountain climbers, he’d have been still stuck there. Or rather his dead body would have been still stuck there.
After the first time it happened, Draco decided to sleep with his wand in his hand so at least if he woke in some strange foreign place, he could Apparate home. However, each subsequent time he’d still been without his wand but, luckily, had been able to find his way home. The mountain top sojourn had been the last straw though and, after searching the Wizarding world for a solution and coming up negative, he’d been reading one of the new joint Wizard/Muggle newspapers and found an article on mobile phones. The GPS had been the perfect solution.
Still, he hadn’t been aware of dead spots in signal reception. He sighed, sat down in the sand and hung his head in his hands. There was no saying the change in his voicemail status would even have saved as the signal was virtually non-existent, let alone anyone calling him on his phone and hearing it. He almost wished he’d subjected himself to a locator spell, but that still didn’t solve the problem of anyone realising he was missing in the first place.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he exploded, grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it as hard as he could against the wall. Not that it made any difference to the sand or the wall, but the movement made Draco feel better.
He stood and placed his hands on his hips, looking around the bare room disdainfully. ‘Well, if this is going to be home for Merlin knows how long, I suppose I should…look around.’
As expected there wasn’t anything to see, apart from a bare room with walls made of sheer rock. The marks of the tools that had been used to make it were clear dents and scratches on the otherwise smooth surface. The ceilings were high – Draco thought perhaps 30 foot – with a light source near the top. Draco wondered if it was a hole to the outside, and looked to see if any of the tool marks would work as a grip so he could climb out. Unfortunately the marks were too shallow and he could not get a secure hold.
And there was nothing else in the room. Nothing. Except a door. A heavy steel door by the look of it. One Draco had tried to open when he arrived, but hadn’t even managed to budge an inch. ‘A wand, a wand, my kingdom for a wand,’ Draco muttered and inspected the sand for an indication of what the room might have been used for. To no end; the sand was like…sand.
‘No food, no water, no clothing…’ he mumbled, looking down at his thin pyjama pants and bare feet. ‘Well done, Draco, you appear to have stranded yourself once more with nothing to aid in survival, apart from a barely functioning Muggle piece of junk!’ He ended up yelling at the phone, aware of how ridiculous it looked but there was no one to see him and, anyway, it was his phone, he could yell at the thing if he wanted.
Several hours later, Draco had exhausted his repertoire of things to do when he was bored out of his brain. Hadn’t someone tried to ring him by now? He was popular, he had friends. Didn’t they care he was lost somewhere with no way to get home again? Draco refused to acknowledge maybe his new message hadn’t saved. No, to stay sane he had to accept no one had called him. For if they had called him and heard the message, he would be easy to locate by tracing the faint signal on his phone. Or something. Surely…
Draco had even tried to wank, just for something to do, but the thought of someone arriving to rescue him and seeing him in that most intimate of moments rather put him off. To say the least.
He’d had to urinate in the corner of the room. Luckily he could kick some sand over it and reduce the smell but, slightly sickened, he had nightmares of being here for days and if he managed to survive being without food and water he’d be suffocated by the smell instead.
A crack of Apparition startled him and his heart thudded loudly in his chest. The last person he expected to see standing in this prison was Harry bloody Potter. But there he was in all his saving people persona. A super hero of some sort.
‘Draco. Oh good, you’re all right then.’ It seemed to Draco that Potter’s eyes slid down his naked torso slower than what would be deemed appropriate.
‘So it would seem. Why are you here? Don’t you have better things than rescuing the likes of me, oh Great Chosen One?’ Draco held his arms still by his sides. Let Potter see the tragedy of marks across his chest.
Ha-Potter snorted and then grinned. ‘You’d think so, but I’m here now, and you’re alive, so if you’d…’ Potter offered his arm for Side-Along Apparition.
‘No, really, I want to know why you’re here,’ Draco insisted. This could be some plot against him to… do something. Besides, didn’t Potter want to know how he’d found himself in this predicament? There was no interest in that? None?
Potter sighed. ‘I called your mobile phone, heard your message and tracked you here. Now can we go? I have things to do.’ Potter didn’t sound as annoyed as his words might have seemed. Draco knew this because there was a slight uplifting at the corner of his mouth and a tiny little glitter of amusement in his eyes.
Draco reached for Potter’s arm. ‘Why did you call my phone?’ he asked.
‘Just say thank you, Draco,’ Potter replied and raised his wand.
Draco sighed. ‘Thank you, Draco.’ And Potter Apparated them back to the Manor.
‘You have reached the mobile phone of Draco Malfoy. For some inexplicable reason I am unable to come to the phone right now, so leave your name and number and when I return from what appears to be the wilds of Africa I will be sure to return your call. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind sending someone to retrieve me from what appears to be said wilds of Africa, I’d be extremely grateful. ‘
At least this place had food and water, even if it did have scary beasts and biting insects. Draco knew by the time he managed to get home, he’d be covered in bites from every kind of insect and creepy crawly thing that existed. They were attracted to the pale, sweet Malfoy skin. That was all. And they loved Draco’s skin. Charms kept the Manor free from creepy crawlies, but here, wandless again and naked expect for his pyjama pants, again, he had no protection.
He did not stop to reason why he always arrived at these places with barely any clothing and no wand, but somehow managed to keep his damned mobile phone! That was a question for a higher being than himself. A paranoid person would think some dark lord was out to get him. Draco, however, reasoned whatever or whoever was playing this great joke on him didn’t want him to actually die on one of these adventures.
And it was fucking hot here!
Some time later, Draco’s stomach rumbled and he remembered he’d seen an orange fruit growing on a tree nearby. It looked like an orange but perhaps was one of those mandarin things.
When he picked one and ate it, he realised he was wrong. On the other hand, it was cool and sweet and delicious and he didn’t care if he didn’t know the name of it. He was careful not to eat too many though as he was well aware a strange fruit might upset his stomach and, empty though it was, empty was a lot better than retching and regurgitating.
Unfortunately for Draco, Potter showed up just as he was making a mess of his second piece of fruit. Juice dribbled down his wrists and from the corners of his mouth. Draco, startled by Potter’s arrival, made no attempt to clean the sweet juice from his body and was rewarded by seeing Potter’s eyes follow one rivulet running down his chest.
Draco mentally raised an eyebrow. Interesting. Last time Potter had rescued him, Draco wondered if he’d seen appreciation in Potter’s eyes. Now he could hardly miss it. Interesting indeed.
‘You again?’ Draco drawled, finally beginning to lick his fingers clean and purposely watching Potter’s face as he did so. He could hardly fail to notice the slight inhalation of breath when Draco’s tongue dipped between his fingers.
Potter shrugged. ‘Someone had to,’ he replied, a rasp obvious, like he needed to clear his throat before talking.
‘Interesting,’ was all Draco said and continued to lick his fingers, giving Potter a show.
After several long, tense moments, Potter did finally clear his throat and held out his arm to Draco. ‘Come on, Draco, time to go home.’
‘I still want to know why you’re calling my mobile phone,’ Draco said.
‘Does it matter?’ Potter asked.
‘Of course it does! How do I know this is not all some dastardly plot to do something humiliating to me?’
‘Dastardly plot?’ Potter’s eyebrows rose in what Draco was sure was a perfect imitation of Draco’s own expression.
‘Oh, right, forgive me; you’re not capable of dastardly plots. Gryffindor!’ he huffed.
Potter chuckled. ‘I am capable,’ he muttered. ‘Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, you know?’
Draco’s mouth dropped open in surprise and, in that moment, Potter Apparated them both away.
‘You have reached the mobile phone of D-Draco Malfoy. For some incompreh-hensible reason I am un-nable to get a signal on this f-fucking useless phone so I cannot take your c-call. Leave your name and n-number and when I manage to extricate myself from this latest m-mess I w-will be sure to ret-turn your call. Oh and d-don’t let anyone ever tell you ig-igloos are w-.’
These little trips Draco was taking while sleeping were becoming beyond a joke. This one was dangerous. He wasn’t sure how long he would last in this icy wasteland, but he knew it was a hell of a lot less time than when he’d been in the wilds of Africa. His subconscious had obviously chosen a cooler place than the heat of the jungle, but as was usual for him, he’d gone to extremes. He sighed and watched the steam exit from his mouth and wanted, irrationally, to inhale the warmth back into him and keep it selfishly.
As he alternated between sitting and walking around, trying to both protect his feet from freezing and hoping by moving his blood might warm him up somehow, he wondered if it would be Potter showing up to collect him this time. He wondered what Potter did for a living these days that he could spend so much time traipsing all over the world collecting an ex-Death Eater he used to go to school with from what must be the weirdest places on earth. Perhaps this might be the last time he’d need to do anything concerned with Draco, though, because his eyes were getting heavy and he was beyond cold and so, so tired…
Fighting to keep himself awake, he tried to stand, but his limbs were stiff and wouldn’t work very well. Oh, well, it was so hard to stay awake, so hard to do anything apart from close his eyes. Even his teeth had stopped chattering because it was too much effort. He knew he must stay awake, no matter what. To sleep would be fatal…
Draco closed his eyes and, just as he did, there was a noise, a crack. Draco thought he heard a voice but he couldn’t be sure what it said. He only knew he was suddenly surrounded by warmth. Warm arms, warm breath on his face, and the warmest chest to snuggle into. In his delirium, he thought he heard Potter’s exasperated voice say, ‘Hang on, Draco, hang on for me please? I’m not losing you now.’ But he couldn’t be certain.
He wanted to say he’d been waiting for Harry all this time, but he could barely even open his mouth and he certainly didn’t have the energy to speak. Instead he let Harry’s warmth and strength surround him and keep him safe.
‘You have reached the voicemail of…oh fuck it, you know it’s Draco, leave me a fucking message if you can’t get your arse over here and rescue me. And Potter if it’s you trying to ring and it’s you that comes to rescue me, I’ll quite likely die of embarrassment but fuck you anyway. Oh, shit, that’s not what I meant at all. What I meant to say was fu-
Knowing Draco’s luck, it would be some nondescript little toady from Harry’s – crap, Potter’s -office. Either that or some hairy beast from one of his own mines.
He recognised the rock he was standing on from Muggle travel brochures as the great monolith, Uluru, in the middle of Australia. He’d tried shouting in the hope someone would be near enough to hear but any noise he made seemed to get eaten up in the vastness of the rock. And he remembered the Indigenous people didn’t let tourists climb the rock anymore, so there’d be no random climbers to save him this time. Why he couldn’t get a proper signal out in the middle of bloody nowhere at the altitude he was, he didn’t know. There were no buildings or land masses in the way of a signal surely. Bloody Colonials, no wonder England transported the bastards. Couldn’t do anything right.
And it was so hot, Draco was positive he was melting. Middle of the fucking day and not one cloud in the startlingly blue sky and not one shadow on the bleached out red rock. Draco hoped he wouldn’t suffer heat stroke….or worse…sunburn. He had perfect skin which refused to tan or freckle but it did draw the line at too much sun and burned and blistered horribly.
Draco sighed. He had a choice. To sit in the blazing sun with nothing on his head, or try and find some shelter aided by using his pyjama pants as a kind of protection… even though that meant when Potter, when anyone, rescued him, he’d be naked. He’d lay odds it would be Potter though and that decided him. Pants off it was and, while he refused to examine his motives too closely, he knew they were more than being concerned about surviving this ordeal.
One thing he knew was that when he returned home he was doing some more research on his ‘condition’ and then he was going to see someone competent about these nocturnal travels; they were becoming life threatening now and that was just not on. The quack that told him he was ‘subconsciously deliberately putting himself in harm’s way’ was talking pure twaddle of course. Why on earth would Draco deliberately put himself on the top of a bloody red rock like this?
Draco suddenly froze. From the corner of his eye he saw a silent shadow moving across the rock. It was long and slender. Not a person then, he thought grimly, because the only other option was one of the poisonous snakes he’d read about in this god forsaken country. When he turned his head slightly, sure enough his eyes focussed to make out a long brown snake, obviously out for its daily sun tanning session. Cold blooded monster, Draco mentally hissed through his panic. There was nowhere for him to run and nowhere to hide. He was sitting naked on a huge rock in the middle of nowhere. His arse was burning from sitting on the hot rock and the snake slithering alongside him was sure to notice Draco’s delectable flesh and think it would like a bite. And then it would inject him with a terrible horrific poison and sit idly by and watch while he died a painful, ignominious death.
Contrary to popular belief about Slytherins, Draco did not enjoy a close relationship with snakes. He found them slimy and slightly creepy. Potter speaking Parseltongue did nothing for him whatsoever, though it had been several years since he’d heard Potter speak it and the last time had required Draco to spend several minutes (all right, really long minutes, like about thirty of them) with a silencing charm around his bed. But no, Parseltongue did nothing for him. At all.
‘Potter if you’re coming to get me you had better hurry unless you want to rescue this snake’s leftovers,’ Draco muttered and definitely did not squeak when the snake seemed to pause and look straight at Draco.
Draco held his breath, unable to move, fright immobilising him. Part of him was disgusted at this manifestation of cowardice, but the rest was just absolutely terrified. What if the snake bit him and he died? What would happen to his flat? His things? Would anyone even miss him? Potter would likely throw a party at not having to come and rescue Draco from any more strange and wonderful places. Pansy might cry… ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Potter, hurry the fuck up if you’re coming!’ Draco could even feel his thoughts quaking in fear.
After what seemed like hours of staring at each other as if hypnotised, long enough to send him mad enough to want to scream at the snake in the hope of scaring it away, Draco’s leg began twitching. Draco tried to stop it, but it refused, clearly having a mind of its own. Horrified, he dragged his eyes away from the snake and looked at the offending limb, cursing it under his breath.
When he gathered himself to look back at the snake, it was coming straight at him, and all he could do was gape at it.
Draco was too scared to even think of any profound last words but, just as he was about to pass out, there was hissing from behind him and the snake stopped dead in its tracks. It switched its gaze to something over Draco’s shoulder and he just knew it had to be Harry. Draco allowed him to be ‘Harry’ now he’d turned up in the nick of time. Although now rescue was imminent, his irritation at being left on the rock naked for so long, threatened to bubble to the surface.
But he was not saved yet.
The snake had stopped, yes, but it was still within inches of Draco’s leg. Draco would move if he could, but he knew things were poised on a knife’s edge. Harry was still hissing something from behind him and Draco might have enjoyed it if he wasn’t in mortal peril.
Eventually, the snake gave Harry a little tilt of the head, as if acquiescing, and slithered off.
Draco exhaled deeply, the tension relief making him shake. He turned his head and looked at Harry, standing there casting a shadow, blocking the sun and making it impossible for Draco to see his expression. Draco didn’t care. He scrambled to his feet, dragged on his pants and then threw himself into Harry’s arms, lifting his legs and wrapping them around Harry’s hips. Just in case the snake came back.
Harry’s hands settled on Draco’s arse, holding him up, and just this once Draco thought he’d let Harry get away with it.
‘Took your time, didn’t you?’ Draco said, trying for haughty, but the strain rendered it merely pitiful.
‘Your arse is really hot,’ Harry said, giving said arse a squeeze. Draco squeaked and squirmed around trying to get away from Harry’s hands. Well, pretending to try and get away from Harry’s hands; he quite liked the feel of them right where they were, thankyouverymuch. Although he did think maybe he was hallucinating, being so dehydrated and all that…
‘Of course it is, it’s my arse.’
‘Not quite the hot I meant.’ Harry grinned and Draco rolled his eyes.
‘Your arse would be hot too if you’d been sitting around naked on hot rocks all day.’
‘My arse is hot,’ Harry countered.
‘In your dreams, maybe.’
‘Say thank you, Draco.’ Harry was smiling, but Draco caught the worry lines in the corners of his eyes.
A warm, melty feeling spread through Draco’s chest. He was oddly flattered Harry was worried about him. ‘Thank you, Draco.’ Draco wanted to kiss him. So he did.
Yes, he was definitely dehydrated and hallucinating.
Potter… Harry. I give in. It’s been weeks. Come and get me. Please? As for the rest of you…never mind. But if you’re that moron that keeps hanging up every time I answer the phone, then you can get a life and leave me alone.
Draco stretched out to wait on sand which was still warm, despite being under the shade of a rather large palm tree. He’d certainly picked a nice place this time. The air was warm, redolent with the fresh salty smell of the ocean. A light breeze sailed in from the water and cooled the air to just about the right temperature. There was no hurry for Harry to come and collect him from this place. Draco wasn’t even worried about sand on his skin here.
Not that he knew where ‘here’ was, but there was sun and sea and footprints in the sand, so somewhere, somewhere close he presumed because this beach was so pretty, there were people. And soon there’d be a Harry come to rescue him, and perhaps they would finally talk, because Draco was in no danger of being bitten by a deadly snake or dying from sub zero temperatures or suffering frost bitten toes, so they could take their time. Maybe he might even…
Draco’s thoughts drifted off with the breeze which cooled his warm body. He had plenty of time for thinking and dreaming, though he knew nothing ever came to dreamers. He’d learned one had to make things happen if one wanted them. Much as he might dream about a long and happy life with the man of his dreams, nothing was going to come of dreams unless he did something about it. So, while there were obviously people on this island and therefore possibly enough signal either here or nearby he could call someone, or text, he really wanted Harry to be the one to come and rescue him. Therefore, he’d stick to doing what he’d been doing and using his voicemail message. Harry would come; this much he knew.
Draco tucked his hands under his head, closed his eyes against the light and relaxed, allowing the peace and quiet and warmth to make him drowsy.
‘You’re going to have sand in very uncomfortable places if you’re not careful.’
Harry. Draco’s stomach felt like there was a herd of butterflies in there all fighting to escape. He smiled anyway and opened his eyes, looking up to see a tall figure standing over him.
‘Harry,’ he said, lifting himself to rest on his elbows.
Harry grinned and sat down beside Draco. ‘What? I don’t get you jumping into my arms and kissing me in gratitude for rescuing you this time? I was hoping things would have progressed since last time. At least to a quick and dirty grope.’
‘You saved me from a poisonous snake last time. Be reasonable. I’m not sure I even want to be rescued from a place like this.’ Draco waved his arm indicating the pristine beach and sand. ‘Perhaps all it deserves is a thank you for coming to collect me.’
‘Damn, knew I should have released the scorpions in my pocket before I woke you up.’ Harry looked at Draco and they both laughed, Draco’s butterflies settling to a flutter rather than a mad panic.
‘But seriously, why do you keep saving me?’ Draco asked.
Harry shrugged lightly and Draco noticed a faint blush across his cheeks. ‘Why not? You’re pretty and usually suitably appreciative.’
‘Once! Once I kissed you. And that was because you saved me from the snake, which wasn’t really difficult, seeing as you can talk to them.’
Harry laughed. ‘I’m teasing you,’ he said. ‘Although, to be honest, you kiss like no one I’ve ever kissed before.’
‘Been around then, have you?’ Draco raised his eyebrow, watching Harry’s blush deepen.
‘Kissed enough frogs to know a prince when I kiss one.’
A splutter of laughter escaped Draco before he could stop it. Then he was oddly flattered. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, deliberately exposing the long line of his throat. He was hoping Harry would want to attach his lips and teeth to it. ‘A prince, eh? Does that mean you’re my slave and I get to order you around?’ Draco licked his lips and arched his back a little. He knew exactly the picture he was presenting to Harry. After all, he’d been around himself.
‘Only if you want me to leave,’ a soft voice growled into his ear and Draco shivered with the thrill of Harry being so close. Draco hadn’t even heard him moving closer but now he knew Harry was there, he could feel him; feel the heat of his body so close, feel the desire radiating through the heat, Draco almost moaned with need.
Draco gasped when the lips which were so close to his ear touched his jaw, and he kept his eyes closed, too afraid to see what Harry was doing up close. He might do something totally humiliating and beg…or something.
But he thought he might beg, anyway, as Harry’s lips slid down his throat and latched onto the skin at the base, sucking with a dedication that had Draco feeling it right down to his toes.
‘I suspect…you don’t want to go,’ Draco managed, voice almost a whisper.
‘Hmm,’ Harry dragged his bottom lip up Draco’s throat to his chin. ‘Didn’t come all this way to go home without you.’
‘Where…’ Draco’s voice disappeared completely and he had to swallow and start again. ‘Where are we, anyway?’
‘Bali,’ Harry replied. ‘Nusa Dua is just a couple of miles along the beach.’
Draco opened his eyes, surprised they were so close to civilisation, to find Harry’s lips hovering over his own, Harry’s eyes so close to Draco’s he could see and define each individual eyelash. And Harry’s eyes were so clear and intense and not at all as green as he’d always thought. Sure they were green but they were shot through with a myriad of different colours, not detectable until you were extremely close. Draco wondered, strangely jealous, how many other people had been privileged enough to see Harry’s eyes close enough to know this.
‘I’m glad it’s you who came to find me,’ he said, lifting his face to bridge the tiny gap between them and kiss Harry like he’d wanted to for what seemed like forever. Harry didn’t disappoint him, and pressed him back down onto the sand, covering Draco’s body. Draco shifted, allowing Harry to settle between his legs and push the most glorious of erections against him.
‘I have a confession to make,’ Harry said as he dragged his lips away from Draco’s.
Draco blinked. There wasn’t supposed to be any talking now. Just kissing and some delightful rubbing which would, should there be any justice in this world, end up with both of them coming, maybe all over each other. Or there might be mouths involved, and tasting, and hadn’t Draco often wanked to the mere thought of Harry’s cock in his mouth and how it might taste? So why was there talking now?
‘After the first time you had to be rescued, I put a locator charm on you,’ Harry said.
‘What?’ Draco was trying to pay attention but Harry was rubbing himself all over Draco and it was distracting. He wanted to say something about invasion of privacy…or something like that. Draco had completely lost his train of thought.
‘Hmm,’ Harry hummed against Draco’s ear, making Draco bite his lip and roll his hips to press himself into Harry as much as he could. ‘I didn’t keep tabs on you, only rang your mobile a few times every day. Hung up if you answered. But if I got the underground bunker that smelled like old socks message…’
‘Wait, what?’ Draco pushed Harry away, the words finally sinking in. ‘You were the moron who kept hanging up on me? Why didn’t you just talk to me if you wanted me?’
‘Liked rescuing you, didn’t I?’ Harry replied. ‘You could be a little more grateful, you know.’
‘I could be more grateful?’ Draco spluttered. ‘You utter imbecile! Here I was putting myself in harm’s way – deliberately, according to the quacks at St. Mungos - just to get your attention, when I had it all along!’ Not to mention that only one of his ‘save me’ messages had worked!
How close Draco had come to death so many times since then was too much to think about, and Harry was looking at Draco with those impossible eyes, darkened with desire. ‘I-’
‘Draco,’ Harry said sternly. ‘Shut up.’
Draco frowned and persisted. ‘I could have died…’ Harry’s lips cut him off and Draco kissed him back, deciding he should really let it go; he could have a meltdown later. Right now, there was a gorgeous man all over him and they had wasted so much time when they could have been fucking for months. And there really was nothing quite as delightful as a mouth full of Harry Potter’s tongue.
When they pulled back to breathe, Draco, feeling as breathless as if he’d run several miles, opened his mouth to say they could have been fucking for months, but Harry beat him to it.
‘Just say thank you, Draco.’
Draco sighed, giving in, and slid his fingers up into Harry’s hair. He pulled Harry down into another kiss, murmuring, ‘Thank you, Draco,’ as his lips brushed Harry’s. He really was grateful.
You’ve reached the voicemail of Draco Malfoy. I don’t need to be rescued but I can’t come to the phone right now because my boyfriend wants to…
Come back to bed, Draco.
…ohhhh fuck I love it when you do that. He wants to fuck me into the mattress so you can all bugger off. And if one of you knocks on my door in the next two hours…
Two hours? Tomorrow!
Just say thank you, Draco.
Fuuu… Thank you, Draco…