#mzuul

What could go wrong? (:

Dating Potters by GoldenTruth813 and Mzuul

The lovely @mzuul has blessed our fest with a wonderful icon! Neville and his plant!!! Look at how happy they both look! 

Damn I (mzuul) certainly do wonder (mzuul) who (mzuul) this could be ( @mzuul ). Hahaha this probably isn’t what you asked for but I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy it anyway. ❤️ Betaed by my darling @nifflers-n-nargles and @buttertyrant

30. Workplace - Draco/James Sirius

Everybody knew what the Malfoys got up to. 

It wasn’t only that James’ dad spent dinner after dinner talking about the investigations he lead against Mr Malfoy’s potion trade empire, or that his mum constantly told him every obscure detail she remembered from her time at school with Mr. Malfoy in an attempt to keep James from interacting with his son.

No, it was simply common knowledge born from a deeply seated instinct of self-preservation. You didn’t drink water out of the tap, you didn’t give strangers directions after dark, and you didn’t go anywhere near the gloomy mansion standing proud at the end of the lane.

Everybody knew to avert their eyes when a pale, blond figure drove past them in a sleek black car. Everybody knew not to say no when the son asked for anything if they wanted to live past the night.

Everybody knew that Draco Malfoy was a powerful man with a dangerous mind, who could shape fate through sheer power of will and a snap of his fingers.

James knew. He’d known ever since he’d finished his potions apprenticeship, when a strange man had approached him about a secret job and taken him right into the bowels of the mansion he’d spent his entire life avoiding. He’d known when, after his first successful batch of a strong sympathomimetic potion, he’d been called to an office on the second floor and come face to face with the man he’d only known from legends.

“James Sirius Potter,” he’d said, a vial of James’ creation dangling from his fingers like a cigarette. “I’m told you are the best brewer this house has seen since my mentor retired.”

Not knowing what to say, James had blurted out the first coherent sentence he could think of, “My dad is in law enforcement.”

“I know.”

“It’ll kill him if he finds out.”

“We can’t have that, can we? This will have to be our little secret.”

He’d known then, when he’d been subjected to a smile that was too wide to be friendly, when he’d felt more like prey than he ever had in his life. He’d known that, for better or for worse, nothing would be the same after that night.

He’d been right.

Now, after nearly a year, he knew Draco. He knew the cadence of his voice and the way his eyes turned to ice when he was angry. He knew that when things didn’t go his way, he would clench his teeth and snap his fingers, demanding someone go and make them go his way at once.

Now, he knew the power of being kept under the wings of the strongest dragon in town.

Everybody knew what the Malfoys got up to, and now, they knew that James was one of them. When he showed them the tattoo adorning the dip between his collarbones, a bright golden M, they knew they had to do whatever he asked of them. They knew to keep their mouth shut, because if word got out that the Head Auror’s son was mingling with snakes, Draco would find out who had talked, and he’d have their head.

What they didn’t know was why. They knew Draco Malfoy protected his family, but that loyalty didn’t extend to his employees. James Potter was a fluke, a fault in the system. Or so it seemed.

But they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t, couldn’t know about the things they did. About James going into Draco’s office every day at six o’clock and closing the wide wooden doors, making sure the lock was in place.

They didn’t know about Draco’s gaze, molten, possessive, hungry. They didn’t know about his hands, tearing James’ clothes off and pushing him onto his desk. They didn’t know about his fingers, digging into James’ hips and, once slick, deep into his arse. They didn’t know about his tongue, tracing the M on James’ chest, caressing his cock from root to tip. They didn’t know about James’ moans, about the way his hips lifted off the desk for Draco’s cock, about the way his ankles pushed against Draco’s back, needing him closer, deeper. They didn’t know about the things they said, the praise, the “you take it so good”, and, “give it to me for real and I’ll show you good”, the promises, the broken names falling out of whimpering mouths. The white hot pleasure that came from urgency, from knowing they didn’t have time to savour it. The release coating James’ insides, staining Draco’s chest. The questions, after, the “when are you letting me bring you to my bed, show you what it could be?”, and, “my dad…”. The “he doesn’t have to know” and the “maybe next time”.

They didn’t know that James’ body had never known that kind of pleasure existed before Draco, they didn’t know that he could feel him inside him all day, deep, until six o’clock rolled around again and he went back to that office, aching for him.

They didn’t know, but James knew, and Draco knew.

wait this still counts as a kiss…right?

It’s just a kiss!