Title: Real Person Slash
Summary: After the war, Harry and many of his acquaintances are celebrities. And what good are celebrities if you can't fantasize about them shagging each other?
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: water!sex, fangirls, and side pairings that even the author doesn't like
Word Count: 4,200
Author's Notes Despite the subject matter, this isn't the out-and-out CRACK that I expected it to be. Still, I hope you enjoy your smut with a side dish of meta. :)
Being a celebrity is fun for a while, but after that it inevitably becomes tiresome at best and more often debilitating. Harry Potter for one had gotten to where he could hardly walk out of his flat without someone rushing him – and this was in Muggle London, mind you, all things Muggle having become much more fashionable in the years following the end of the War. Hiding in plain sight wasn't as easy as it used to be. If it weren't for glamours, he'd be well out of luck, and as it was he couldn't keep enough different disguises around to fool them.
Them. The girls. The women. The fans. Save the bloody world and all of a sudden you're... what, fodder for sexual fantasy? Harry sure as hell didn't understand it, but if he saw one more MARRY ME, HARRY! sign waved enthusiastically at one of his public appearances, he might just announce to everyone that he was gay and be done with it.
His publicist – yes, he had a publicist, for god's sake, against his will – had assured him that this would probably not be a good idea. It would simply shift his demographic. "At least the women are mostly harmless," Colin had said. "Men are strong. And they run faster. And – and queers can be scary."
It had been all Harry could do not to call him homophobic, or even yell, "I'm not scary, you wanker!" but he thought that coming out to his publicist would be hardly better than coming out to those... fans. It wasn't that he cared if they knew, or what they thought, but he didn't want his personal life to be front page news. It should be a private matter, not tabloid fodder. And there had to be some good headlines out of that. The Boy Who Lived Lives For Boys! Probably something about broom closets. Extra points for the first use of "snitch" in a clever pun.
The only people who knew were his "family" – meaning the Weasleys and the Lupins. He hadn't exactly been able to keep it from Ginny for very long once he figured it out, which meant that Ron and Hermione were not long after, and it wasn't as if secrets fared well in that family. Then, give it a couple of holidays with Fred and George making a few broom and balls jokes, and Remus and Tonks were bound to figure it out as well.
It wasn't as if it mattered anyway. Harry might be gay in theory, but he wasn't exactly so in practice. Not being able to leave his flat without being mobbed by paparazzi meant that his love life had to be more than merely discrete, which meant next to impossible. He had shagged a few Muggle blokes with some careful orchestration, and once, under gentle prodding from pretty much everyone who knew about him, Charlie Weasley. Harry just could not understand the mentality that two men being gay must mean that they're perfect for each other. But Charlie just wasn't his type, compounded by the fact that both were unabashed tops. Everyone had seemed so dumbfounded by the fact that they didn't live happily ever after – and Harry had had to patiently point out to Hermione that queers are not interchangeable. He noted that Percy was also straight – perhaps she should have married him instead of Ron? There was no more matchmaking after that, though he suspected it was largely because none of them knew any other gay men.
However, Harry's suspicions had gone right along those lines when Ron sent an owl insisting that he come over as soon as he could, that Ron had something to show him. Still, Harry wasn't one to decline an invitation, and so he headed to the steps outside his flat. On the inside it was decked out with anti-Apparition wards much like those at Hogwarts – it was inconvenient not being able to Apparate out, but certainly worth the security of no one being able to Apparate in.
"It's Harry Potter!" someone screeched as soon as he set foot on the sidewalk. He turned and saw a group of wide-eyed girls in school uniforms. He gave them an indulgent wave before disappearing with a pop.
Hermione and Ron were arguing loudly about something when he arrived on their doorstep. Very loudly, judging from the fact that he could hear them through the door. He raised his fist to knock, but then couldn't help from listening in briefly first.
"So what are you planning on telling him?" demanded Hermione.
"I'm not going to tell him anything, I'm going to show him. You don't think he deserves to see this... this...."
"Ron, don't be stupid. He'll probably think it's funny."
Ron's voice raised nearly an octave. "Well I didn't think it was funny!"
Hermione suddenly got that tone when she was consciously trying not to be condescending and it wasn't working very well. "Harry might be a bit more indulgent about – "
"Don't you dare call me homophobic, Hermione. You know that I don't care that Harry's, you know... like that."
Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. Of all the things they could be arguing about... how the hell did his sexuality come into it?
"I just can't believe you were thinking of firing the poor girl," Hermione said, clucking her tongue. "It's not as if she did anything wrong."
"She brought that filfth into our house!" Ron snapped. "What if Lila had gotten hold of it?"
"Lila's eighteen months old! She can't read!"
Harry was more confused than ever by now, not to mention a tad guilty for eavesdropping, so he cleared his throat and tapped on the front door. The voices immediately shushed.
Second later, the door flew open and Hermione was standing there, beaming at him. "Hallo, Harry!"
"Good to see you, Hermione," he said, and kissed her cheek. "You're positively glowing."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that, Harry. And I'm telling you the truth here – no matter what Ron says, this is the last one."
"Two children!" yelled Ron from the living room. "She wants to stop at two!"
"I've got your back on this one," Harry whispered, and Hermione smiled gratefully.
"Come on, Harry," she said, taking his hand and sighing a little. "Ron's having a bit of a fit about something. I've told him it's no big deal, but he insisted upon dragging you over here..."
"It's all right, really. Not as if there were much odds of your interrupting anything, huh?" Once they were in the living room, he saw that Ron was holding a rolled-up magazine. "Okay, mate, what's all the fuss about?"
Ron set his mouth into a straight line. "This." He shoved the magazine at Harry.
Harry glanced at Hermione briefly before taking it, and looked at the cover. SQUEE: A Weekly Publication for the Discerning Fanwitch.
Harry frowned. "What's a squee?"
Hermione sighed. "It's just a silly..."
"Open it up and read some of it, Harry," Ron insisted.
"So what, is this another tabloid?" It was starting to make sense. There must be an article in here supposedly outing him. "You know I don't care what they publish about me anymore, Ron. No one believes this stuff any – "
"Read it," Ron repeated.
Harry sighed and flipped it open, began skimming the contents. There were a few articles – interviews with authors and stage actors, even a few blurbs about Muggle television shows. But the majority of the magazine seemed to be devoted to what was called "fan fiction."
He realized quickly that it was filled with stories based on characters in books and films and television shows... He looked up at Ron. "What, am I supposed to be offended by encroaching Muggle culture? You know it doesn't bother me. That's what the War was about, remember? No more of this blood – "
"No, no, I couldn't give a damn about that," Ron said impatiently. Harry heard Hermione sigh as Ron flipped to the back page of the magazine where a large notice read, Wave wand here to verify that you are sixteen years or older. Ron waved his wand and muttered something under his breath.
Suddenly the magazine became about three times as thick. Harry nearly dropped it, but then compensated for the weight. "Okay..." He flipped through some of it. "So... what I'm supposed to be offended by is a graphic description of Doctor Who shagging his companions?"
"Turn to the last section," said Ron.
Harry did as he was told, reading the section title. "What's RPS?" he asked. When there was no answer forthcoming, he glanced down at the first story. My Beloved Enemy, Part 2/10, read the title. By StarryWitch85. Rated NC-17. Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy.
Harry glanced up at Ron again as he crinkled his nose, confused. "Draco Malfoy? What – "
"Just keep reading," Ron said, looking pained.
Harry looked back down at the page.
It wasn't so long after the heroic defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that Harry and Draco reconnected. Draco had already returned from hiding where he'd escaped his father's wicked, ruthless stranglehold and was beginning to rebuild what remained of the Malfoy estate, no doubt dreaming of the vast multimedia conglomerate that Malfoy Media would soon become…
"Oh, please," snorted Harry. "So he bought the Daily Prophet and invested wisely in the Muggle stock market. He got lucky." When Ron looked unimpressed by his editorializing, Harry started reading again.
Harry had sought out Draco specifically because of his publishing connections. When the tabloids began to speculate about Harry's sexuality, he decided to lay the question to rest by coming out in a big way – in Wizard's Quarterly, the bestselling wizard's leisure magazine and flagship of Malfoy Media.
But as it turned out, Harry had greater motives. His and Draco's childhood feud, still steeping after all these years, only served to conceal something far greater. That Harry Potter was, as he had been for years, desperately in love with Draco.
"I am not!" Harry yelled.
Hermione winced. "It's just a story, Harry. And I told Ron there was no point in showing it to you…"
"Well there's no need for you to torture yourself by reading the whole thing," Ron conceded.
Harry, meanwhile, was already flipping ahead in the story.
"I want you inside me," Draco groaned, laying back on the bed. His long, white blond hair splayed out on the pillow, like a halo around his beautiful face. Harry had never seen anything so breathtaking as the other man's naked body.
"I've never… done this before," Harry confessed quietly.
A smile touched Draco's lips. "It'll be brilliant, I promise. Fuck me, Harry. I want you. Want your big, hard - "
Suddenly, Ron snatched the magazine away from Harry. "It'll rot your brain," he said.
Harry, trying desperately to ignore the fact that he'd been growing somewhat aroused, muttered, "At least I was topping, even if I was a virgin."
"Harry," groaned Ron.
"Oh, come off it, Ronald," said Hermione sternly, plucking the magazine back from her husband. "You're only cross because the only story about you had you pining away for Harry while he went off into the sunset with Professor Snape, and ended with Crabbe and Goyle making you their bitch."
Ron crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.
"Snape?" Harry repeated. "For god's sake, don't I get to shag someone I like?"
Hermione looked thoughtful, flipping through the magazine again. "Oh, here you are with David Beckham!"
Harry sighed. "Aren't stories supposed to… you know, have characters? Fictional characters? Even Doctor Who is a fake person! These girls can write about him shagging whoever they want!"
Hermione pointed to the chapter title at the top of a page: REAL PERSON SLASH.
Harry frowned and snatched the magazine back from her. "I need to figure out what to do about this."
"I was in it too!" Ron protested.
Harry rolled his eyes. "One story. And you weren't making sweet, sweet love to Draco sodding Malfoy."
"Crabbe and Goyle! Crabbe and Goyle!"
"I think you did your part, love," soothed Hermione, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Why don't you go up to bed and I'll walk Harry out?"
Ron looked grumpy, but said, "Well, hurry up. I'm in a mood to assert my heterosexuality." And with that, he stomped up the stairs.
"Oh dear," said Hermione, looking after him, then back at Harry. "You okay then? It's really not such a big deal. I hope you're not taking it too seriously."
Harry shook his head. "Yeah… I mean, you're right. It's just weird, that's all. Where did you get this thing anyway?"
"Orla," said Hermione.
"The new nanny?"
Hermione nodded. "She's only a few years younger than us, but just graduated because of the time that Hogwarts closed during the war. Sweet girl, former Ravenclaw. But she's a bit… oh, I don't know, she's very much a teenage girl, you know? I was never like that. She's rather obsessive about some musicians, especially The Weird Sisters." Hermione pointed to the magazine. "I think she rather likes the stories about them shagging each other. Says she skips over the bits that are too close to home… but, you know, whereas she knows us… there are thousands of young witches who see you and Ron and Draco as these glamorous heroic figures." She smiled. "And you're much more dashing that Doctor Who. I remember him from when I was little - big, bright coat, awful curly hair? Why would anyone want to write stories about him?" She looked thoughtful. "Let me know if there's anything on East Enders…"
When Harry gave Hermione a somewhat dirty look, she cleared her throat. "Anyway, Ron wanted to fire the poor girl just for having the magazine, imagine! Overreacting much? And I thought I was supposed to be the hormonal one."
"I've never really thought that Ron was that comfortable with… you know. My being gay."
Hermione nodded sympathetically. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's some sort of… delayed reaction to that. But he'll get over it, I promise. We love you, you know that, right?"
"Of course I do."
"Now, get along home," Hermione said cheerfully, ushering him towards the door. "I've got a husband who wants to assert his heterosexuality."
Harry snorted as he slid through the front door.
"You know, you could do with a good shag, too, Harry!" Hermione called before closing the door behind him.
Taking the magazine with him had been a really bad idea. It was the off season for Quidditch, which meant that Harry didn't have a lot to do unless Colin called him about some charity event or such thing. And so he spent the entire next day reading stories in SQUEE.
It was amazing how many of them involved people he knew. Granted, as far as the Wizarding World went, war heroes were about as big as you could get as celebrities. Just above musicians, stage actors, authors… One story that Harry had most assuredly skipped over in favor of not losing his lunch was labeled with the pairing Snape/Lockhart and began, Before he became the great turncoat hero, Severus Snape had the fortune of teaching for a year with the very subject of his sexual fantasies…
Ew, thought Harry. Ew, ew, ew.
Ginny was also a popular character, if only by virtue of being Harry's ex-girlfriend. If he had been a straight man, he probably would have read the one about her and Cho with one hand on the magazine.
One of the strangest reactions that Harry had to the whole thing was… envy. Envious that a fictionalized him was getting laid so often and so well, whereas in reality he was sitting at home and a good wank was the highlight of his night. Hell, there was a story in here where he shagged Prince William. Granted, there was a play on his name that suggested some incest undertones that he thought were distasteful at best or potentially illegal…
And then there was Draco sodding Malfoy, who apparently embodied every girl's fantasy as the sexy anti-hero. The worst part was that the stories made him out to be some sort of real hero as well. Like his going into hiding during the war was some great act of rebellion towards his evil father, rather than what it actually was – pure cowardice. Sure, Draco was famous now, but it was only because he was rich. He was like the Ted Turner of the Wizarding World – even owned one of Harry's rival Quidditch teams. So, okay, Harry was willing to concede some amount of good business sense to him, but he didn't see why that should translate to how much he was supposedly getting laid.
And then the slew of stories about him and Draco... damn if Harry could understand the mentality of the SQUEE authors. Two people hate each other and therefore must be near boiling over with repressed sexual tension?
Of course, the worst bit of it was when he found a story that was actually... good. Well, perhaps not in the literary sense. There was no plot to speak of, just pure unadulterated smut. The title was simply "View" and it described an (obviously fabricated) event during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts when he and Draco Malfoy met in the Prefect's bathroom for a shag. But there were no bad euphemisms for genitalia here, no laughable dialogue, no sudden bestowal of long angelic hair upon Draco. No, it was fairly well written – for complete fiction – and well, hot.
Even more surprising was that, as hot as Harry found it... in the story, he bottomed to Draco. Harry never bottomed. Well, he had, enough to know that he didn't prefer it. But for Draco Malfoy? It was absolutely ludicrous.
But as dirty as Harry felt. – as wrongas it felt – he reread the story. This time holding the magazine with one hand.
The robe slipped from Draco's shoulders, revealing a slender back, lightly muscled. Harry was well aware by now that Draco turned away from the tub while undressing simply to give Harry a nice view. He delighted in being a tease. Harry didn't mind so much. But, still.
"I have rounds with Hermione in an hour," Harry said. "And I'm well aware by now what your arse looks like."
Draco looked over his shoulder and smirked. "And you like it."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Malfoy, just get in."
Draco turned and slid gracefully into the tub, immediately enveloping himself around Harry, kissing him hard, sucking on Harry's lower lip, drawing out a moan. The water splashed around them as he ground down on Harry's lap.
"An hour, huh?" he breathed against Harry's neck before pulling his earlobe gently between his teeth. "So that gives me, what, forty-five minutes?"
"For what? To fuck?" Harry slid his hands down and cupped Draco's arse.
"No... to tease you until you beg me to fuck you." Draco plunged his hand into the water and wrapped his fingers around Harry's cock.
"Draco..." Harry groaned.
"C'mon, it's my turn... and you know you love it. I love getting fucked as much as the next bloke, but I also know that you do too, and you love my big cock..."
"Okay!" Harry rasped out as Draco started to stroke harder. He might prefer topping, but it was hard to deny Draco's... well, natural gifts. It didn't seem fair that someone so endowed with wealth should be so... well endowed.
Draco shifted, sinking down a little so that he was between Harry's legs rather than on Harry's lap. He moved his hand from cock to arse, two fingers immediately probing at Harry's hole underneath the water. Harry gasped and instinctively spread his legs wider.
"God you're hot like that," Draco murmured, kissing Harry's neck as he fucked him with his fingers. "Tell me you want it, Harry."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Want it."
"C'mon, Harry," Draco purred, pulling out his fingers. He lay back in the tub, neck resting on the porcelain rim, and pulled Harry on top of him. Draco's hands gripped tightly on his hips, Harry was floating just above Draco's erection, the tip just barely pressing against him. "C'mon, Harry, tell me you want my cock."
"Tell me you want to get fucked with my big, hard cock. Tell me you love it."
"Please, Draco," Harry groaned.
Apparently that was good enough because Draco thrust up his hips and pushed inside him. Harry cried out, hands flailing to grip the sides of the tub, splashing water.
"Oh fuck yeah," moaned Draco. "Just keeps getting better and better..."
"We should – do this – " Harry's words came out in between gasps for air, in time with his rough movements on Draco's cock. "More than once – a week."
"Hell, I already think about it every night. I'm surprised I don't chafe."
"Fuck..." whimpered Harry as Draco reached out and started to pull Harry off in time with their movements.
"Yeah..." Draco shifted a little, angling so that every thrust pushed even deeper inside Harry, bottoming out each time so that he swore he almost saw stars.
"F-f-f-fuck, Drco," he suddenly cried out. "I'm – "
"Oh yeah, want to feel you come..."
Harry cried out again, thankful not for the first time for his silencing charms, and spilled into Draco's hand, into the water of the tub. He felt like he was floating as Draco kept fucking, and then not long after, Harry felt Draco's fingers dig deeper into his hips, felt the warmth fill him.
"...fuck," said Draco appreciatively, eyes rolling up to the bathroom ceiling. "You're bloody amazing."
Harry grinned as he pulled himself off of Draco, standing up in the tub, water splashing around his calves.
"Hey," said Draco, "nice view. I didn't know you had a birthmark on the back of your thigh."
"I do?" said Harry.
"Well, not really one you can see, now is it?"
"Huh," said Harry. "Well, I'm glad you like it." He looked over his shoulder at Draco and smirked in a very familiar way.
"You know that was only like twenty minutes," Draco pointed out, still lounging in the tub. His elbows were resting on the side, body relaxed, legs spread. His cock lay limp between them, but when he said that, Harry thought he saw it twitch.
"So that leaves me... what, twenty-five minutes?" Harry licked his lips.
"To fuck again?" Draco asked with a lifted eyebrow.
"No," said Harry, lowering himself back into the water. "To tease you until you beg me to fuck you..."
It only took a few quick jerks of Harry's hand once he got to the END for him to finish, spilling wet and sticky into his own hand and over the insides of his boxers. He felt less tense for all of five seconds, and then immediately felt even worse.
He'd just gotten off by reading a sex story about himself. And Draco Malfoy. Draco bloody Malfoy topping him. Draco Malfoy, enjoying the view of his naked...
Harry suddenly blinked, sitting up abruptly in the bed and flipping through the story. Where was that... there! The bit about his birthmark!
How the fuck did anyone know about his birthmark?
Hell, he didn't even know about it until he'd had a physical at the age of eight or nine and a doctor had joked that it was the shape of Poland. And the only other people who had seen him naked... Christ, just the handful of men he'd slept with, and how the hell could any of them be responsible for this?
Slightly panicked, he looked back to the title page, eyes flicking to the correct spot.
Harry gaped. Moaning Myrtle. Of course. She'd seen him naked, the voyeuristic little freak. And hell, she'd probably seen Draco as well, if she liked hanging out in the Prefect's bath... Harry suddenly thought that the titled "view" in the story had little to do with Harry's or Draco's. Wait.
She'd probably seen Draco as well.
Harry's mouth went dry. Natural gifts. Endowed. Well endowed... If Myrtle was accurate about Harry's birthmark...
Harry looked at the magazine again, then shoved it into the drawer in his nightstand. Then he glanced up at the calendar above his dresser and realized that he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten laid.
He grabbed a quill and a piece of paper from the nightstand.
Please contact Draco Malfoy re: an interview for Wizard's Quarterly. I have a rather large announcement to make concerning my personal life and I think that would be the perfect venue for it.
P.S. Please send an anonymous bouquet of roses to one Ms. Orla Quirke, C/O Ron & Hermione Weasley.