Title: A Well Thought-Out Plan
Summary: Harry’s been away from home for a month. Now he has a plan to make the most of his homecoming.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Parselsmut, ruined couture, inappropriate use of tie (implied), and the barest hint of a plot. :D
Deathly Hallows compliant? Compliant in that I had the book in mind when I wrote this, though there are no specific spoilers, I don’t think. Definitely EWE.
Word Count: 2,746
Author's Notes: Happy hd_holidays! For maab_connor who asked for “Creature storys, first time and parselsmut, fun with ties…snark, Draco saying, "Pft."” I didn’t get them all, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, this is the first completed and posted piece of slash fanfic, though I’ve been reading it for years. Also, uber thanks to my beta, who put off her sem paper to read this over for me, and to the mods for their patience and help! Concrit is always great!
Harry shifted so that he was out of the direct line of sunlight coming in the window, and scratched lightly at his hip to relieve the irritation caused by remaining too long in the hot spot. Once he was out of range of the patch of sunlight on the bed, he settled back down to wait. He drew his knees up to his chest so that he could rest his chin upon them, wrapping his arms around his legs and allowing himself to relax into the pose. He had already been waiting an hour, but wasn’t troubled by any impatience. True, he had not been home in nearly a month, but he had a Plan, and as such, he was able to put any restlessness aside in favour of further contemplation of said Plan.
At twenty-eight, Harry was the leading freelance curse-breaker in Britain, a job which often took him away from home for days, weeks, and rarely, even months at a time. It was the only downside to a position that allowed Harry to work in Defence Against the Dark Arts without having to fight any longer. For the five years following the war, Harry had worked under and later partnered with Bill Weasley at Gringotts, before building up enough of a clientele to work freelance.
Now he had a thriving business, a well turned out town home in Bloomsbury, not too far from the Leaky Cauldron, and the freedom to work when he chose. That freedom had become something of a necessity in the past year and a half, since he had begun a rather tempestuous relationship with the most unlikely of men.
A wry smile crept onto Harry’s face as he remembered meeting his childhood rival again after nearly ten years. It was at the Ministry’s New Year’s Ball, an event that Harry was obliged to attend in order to network. He had learned over the years to enjoy the heady bustle of such events, if not the politics involved. Many of his best, and therefore highest paying, clients were, after all, the old families that made up the power at the Ministry of Magic.
Harry had been chatting idly to Susan Bones, slightly high on the mix of champagne, good music, and pleasant company. A hush had fallen over the crowd, and Harry had turned to see what the disturbance was. Walking into the atrium, lit brilliantly by the candelabras and fairly lights so that he resembled nothing so much as a fey prince, was Draco Malfoy, apparently returned from his long exile on the continent. Harry’s own breath had caught in his throat as he had experienced the first stirrings of a completely unexpected attraction. That first twinge had prompted Harry to seek out his one time adversary, and the conversation they had struck up had been sharp, pointed, and exhilarating. Within two weeks they were seeing each other daily, sharing meals, and being seen together at public functions. By the end of the first month, they were sleeping together. They had broken up three times in those first six months, always for stupid reasons, and were always back together by the end of the week. Draco had eventually moved in with Harry just before Christmas, not quite a year from the night they had been reintroduced.
Now Harry had returned from his longest trip from home since he and Draco had started seeing each other, and he missed his lover terribly. Hence, his Plan.
Harry had a kink. It wasn’t much of a kink, or so Draco had informed him in his typically superior drawl, but Harry thought it grand. Draco considered it an affront to his wardrobe. Considering that it almost always resulted in whatever outfit his lover was wearing ending up completely demolished, Harry couldn’t honestly say that he blamed Draco. Still, there was something about the thought of getting Draco so hot that Harry would be buried inside him before he’d even managed to get undressed that brought out Harry’s more aggressive tendencies. And Draco certainly never objected to that.
Harry heard the crack of Apparition downstairs, and the sound of Draco’s boots on the hardwood floors as he stowed his cloak in the closet and placed his briefcase in his study. Still Harry made no move to get up, knowing that Draco would be coming upstairs to the bedroom soon in order to change out of his suit and robes into something more casual. As Harry was home a full day before he was expected, Draco was sure to be surprised.
Finally, Harry heard the creak of the last stair, and saw the doorknob turn. He shifted just slightly, poised to uncoil and stand up, as the door to the bedroom opened.
“Hello, Draco,” Harry greeted, grinning in what had to be a predatory manner.
Draco paused, hand still on the door and eyes widening slightly in surprise, as he took in the sight of his lover seated naked on the bed and waiting for him. The surprise lasted only a moment, and a smirk brought a quirk to one side of Draco’s mouth. “Harry,” he returned, “You’re home early.”
Harry stood then, and stretched, “Thought I’d surprise you.” His grin became even wider as he saw the heat flare up in Draco’s eyes as he took in Harry’s completely bare and half-aroused form. He quickly covered the three long steps between them, pressing his body into Draco’s, and pressed Draco’s back against the door, which fell closed with a quiet thud and snick. His hands on Draco’s hips, Harry tilted his head up just slightly to nip right at the corner where Draco’s jaw met his neck. “I missed you.”
Draco’s breath seemed to be coming faster, and Harry could feel the first signs of his lover’s arousal stirring against his hip where it was pressed to Draco’s groin. “I missed you, too,” Draco breathed, before turning his head to catch Harry’s mouth with his own.
The kiss was both a sublime moment of reunion and a subtle battle for control of the encounter. Control, however, was something Harry was unwilling to give up. He had a Plan, after all. When the clash of teeth and lips and tongues paused, Harry took the opportunity to move his mouth back down Draco’s jaw to his neck, nipping at the skin lightly before soothing it with his tongue. Draco let his head fall back against the door with a sigh in order to offer Harry better access. Harry gladly took the opportunity, and moved his hands from Draco’s hips to the front of his suit to begin attacking the buttons of his robes and the waistcoat underneath. His fingers nimbly and efficiently undid the closures with the ease of long familiarity.
Draco took the opportunity to place his hands on his lover’s bare hips, his fingertips sliding round and clutching the flesh of his arse while Harry’s fingers caught at his nipples as they travelled up to push the waistcoat, braces and robes off his shoulders. Draco stepped briefly away from the door in order to help remove the encumbering layers of clothing. Still, Harry refused to give up his position of dominance, and as soon as the blond’s arms were free and the clothes fell to the ground, he pushed him back up against the door.
Draco landed against the door with a dull thud and a grunt, but Harry quickly moved to distract him, latching his mouth back on to the spot on Draco’s neck just beside his Adam’s apple.
“Potter-“ Draco gasped, “what-“
Harry grinned against Draco’s skin, than ran the tip of his tongue up the long tendon of his neck. Draco only called him Potter when he was unsettled or disgruntled, but Harry doubted that he was disgruntled at this particular moment. Harry was rarely this aggressive, after all, but the evidence of Draco’s approval was hard against his hip where they were pressed together. Another lick, and Draco clearly forgot what he had been about to say as his words degenerated into a low, long moan.
Harry’s hands once again moved to Draco’s clothes, undoing the top three buttons of his shirt. Harry let his fingers run over Draco’s chest, the rich plum material of the shirt feeling intoxicating over the hard heat of Draco’s skin. He reached up, loosening the tie but not removing it, making room so that he could kiss and nip at the defined ridges of Draco’s collar bone. Harry loved the taste of Draco’s skin, clean with just the right amount of salt after a day at work and a subtle undertone of spice that made Harry’s blood boil on the most mundane of occasions.
Draco’s hands had once again came up to Harry’s hips, forcing their lower bodies together roughly. Harry took the hint and dropped his hands to Draco’s belt, even as his mouth continued to work at the dips and hollows of the blond’s throat. He made quick work of the belt and buttons holding the trousers closed, and his hands found their way under the silky shirt to map the muscles of his lover’s abdomen. He followed the perfect path down to where his hips met the tops of his thighs, snaking under the waistband of Draco’s pants.
Just as Harry reached one hand down to cup Draco’s erection, he pushed up to once again capture his mouth, catching their matching groans with his lips. Like Harry’s own, Draco’s cock pulsed with each rapid beat of his heart, and already there was moisture beginning to pool on the head.
Making a snap decision, Harry used his new leverage to urge the blond in the direction of the bed.
Once there, Harry pushed Draco to his hands and knees facing away from him. Any protest the other might have made was silenced, as Harry caressed, kissed, and then bit lightly at the perfect globes of his arse. The trousers and pants disappeared sometime in the journey toward the bed, but Draco’s plum shirt remained, a dark contrast to the pale beauty of the body before him.
Draco, finally noticing that he has not managed to get rid of all of his clothing, tries to sit up and remove his shirt. Harry was ready for this, however, and had a trump card yet to play. He stopped the movements by pressing himself to Draco’s back and grabbing his hands, but he knew that would not be enough, even as Draco’s voice growled his name, “Potter-“
“Draco,” Harry hissed, the Parseltongue sounding rough and sibilant even to his own ears, “you don’t want to do that, do you?”
Harry could almost feel Draco’s eyes role up in his head, and did feel every muscle in Draco’s body tense and then relax at once. “God,” Draco groaned, then, “Harry…”
Harry chuckled, then continued, lowering Draco back into position on the bed, “Can’t believe it’s been a month.” His own breath was coming fast now, his sentences degenerating quickly into fragments. “Missed you. Want you. Gonna fuck you.”
The lubrication charm Harry put on his fingers was non-verbal and wandless, and he continued hissing in Draco’s ear, even as he began preparing him, sliding first one, then two, then three slick fingers into the tight grip of his lover’s arse.
Finally, when Harry himself could wait no longer, and when Draco’s groans had turned into needy keening, Harry entered his lover with one smooth thrust. He paused there, breathing hard, focusing on the extremely tight, hot grip of the blond’s passage, trying to get his raging senses back under control.
“God, Draco,” he murmured in Parseltongue against his lover’s back, “I’ve missed you.” He gave a small thrust when Draco keened again, and shifted his hips. “I’ve missed this.”
Draco’s movements and incoherent mumbles left no doubt as to what he wanted, and Harry was more than happy to give it to him. He began thrusting, slowly at first, then picking up speed and force. He angled his hips in order to hit his lover’s prostate as often as possible, and Draco’s garbled demands began to increase in volume at a similar, exponential, rate. Harry kept up a litany of profanity in Parseltongue the entire time, his own words becoming incoherent as the pressure, heat, and friction drove him crazy. On a particularly forceful thrust, Draco’s arms gave out, and the duvet suddenly muffled his moans. Harry’s hands were the only things left supporting his body.
Draco reached back with one arm, digging his fingers into Harry’s hips in order to force him deeper. The sudden dull pain and force of the motion caused Harry to over balance, and he tumbled sideways onto the bed, still clutching Draco to him. Draco was now on top of Harry, though they were still joined, and the position offered little room for movement.
After some frantic shifting, they were able to settle into a position that satisfied both. Draco’s upper body was just enough to the side of Harry’s that they were still able to kiss, their legs almost completely entwined. Although his movements were more limited in this position, it was much, much more intimate, and Harry could tell that the angle was perfect for the blond. Draco had thrown his head back, biting his lip as sounds almost like whimpers forced themselves from his throat. Harry reached his top arm around to bring Draco’s face to his, claiming his lips in a steamy kiss, before continuing his adoration in Parseltongue. With his other arm, which was trapped beneath Draco, he reached around to grab Draco’s cock, now leaking freely.
A few desperate strokes later, and Draco came, his entire body arching and convulsing. Hot, slippery release coated Harry’s hand and stained the plum shirt, even as the convulsions of the blond’s body triggered Harry’s own orgasm. He shuddered against Draco, lost to an abyss of flashing lights and colours. His own cry was muffled when, at the last moment, he bit down on Draco’s shoulder.
Afterwards, they lay together, still a tangle of trembling limbs, waiting for their breath and hearts to calm. Harry’s arm remained draped over Draco’s still clothed chest, fingers tracing idle patterns, and he nearly felt inhumanly compelled to continue pressing light kisses to Draco’s neck and shoulder.
Draco shifted to face him so that he still lay draped over Harry, looking up at him, a suspicious expression beginning to grace his features. He glanced down at his now ruined shirt, then back up at Harry’s smug expression, eyes narrowing dangerously.
“You—“ Draco seemed almost at a loss for words, though Harry knew it would not last. “Potter, you great prat! This shirt cost almost a hundred galleons!” He began to struggle out of Harry’s embrace, eyes narrowing further, clearly annoyed at having his shirt destroyed. “You planned this!”
Draco was sitting up now, an almost full blown glare on his face, but Harry couldn’t keep from grinning. His Plan had worked perfectly, after all. “Well, yes,” Harry admitted, “but you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Pfft!” Draco huffed, “I can’t believe you ruined another of my shirts!”
“Draco, you have plenty of shirts.” Harry rolled his eyes and continued, “Shut up, and bask for a bit, won’t you? I’ve been gone for a month!”
“Bask, he says,” Draco mumbled, taking of his shirt and tie. Once he had removed them however, he continued fiddling with the tie. “I’ll show you bask…”
Before Harry had a chance to respond, Draco had moved to straddle him, pinning his hands over his head. Harry felt a vague sense of foreboding before Draco leaned in with a low growl and kissed him, causing Harry to forget his train of thought entirely. Only when he tried to reach for Draco as the blond’s arms moved down his body did Harry realize he was in trouble.
“Draco—“ Harry gasped, breaking the kiss. He hissed and arched his back in pleasure as Draco ground their lower bodies together.
“Yes, Harry?” Draco asked, with a devious glint in his stormy eyes.
“Why have—“ Harry gasped again, “why have you tied me to the bed?”
Draco’s grin was entirely wicked now, and Harry felt the lightest hint of unease, even as his pulse leapt in renewed desire.
Draco leaned over and whispered his answer in Harry’s ear. “You ruined my shirt, Harry,” Draco practically purred, “I think that deserves punishment, don’t you?”