An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This Charming Man
orphan_account (Thusspakekate)
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco/OMC, Harry/other, Blink and you miss it Pansy/Blaise Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini Additional Tags: Oral Sex, Rimming, Foot Jobs, Post-War
Summary:
Harry doesn't understand how he's supposed to learn the genteel art of pureblood etiquette from the rudest arsehole he's ever known.
Written for the 2012 H/D Career Fair.
Excerpt:
Draco chanced a quick glance up, returning Harry's smile with a shy one of his own. "Say I decided to be brave... what would happen?"
Harry sucked in a quick breath as his spark of hope exploded into flame. "We'd go on another date, and I'd behave myself this time. You'd order an expensive bottle of wine to try and impress me with your poncy knowledge of varietals and good years, and I'd drink it and smile and pretend I can taste a difference between it and the bottles I get down at Tesco. And if that one went well, we could go on another date. I could take you to the Muggle cinema and you could spend the whole time complaining about the loud teenagers and asking obnoxious questions about how cars work--"
"--I know how cars work!"
"Do you?" Harry asked.
"Well, in theory." Draco jutted out his chin, daring Harry to tell him that wasn't the same.
Harry didn't take the bait, however, and continued. "And after the cinema we could get coffee and walk along the embankment. I'd try to hold your hand and you would call me a sap, but you'd let me do it anyway, because you're secretly a sap as well. And then I think I'd kiss you."
Draco bit his lip. "And after you kissed me?"
"Well, I'd be so good at it, you'd fall instantly, madly, and hopelessly in love with me, of course."
Draco rolled his eyes so hard it looked as though it hurt. He picked up one of the small pillows that rested against the arm of the sofa and chucked it at Harry, hitting him full in the face.
"You're not funny, Potter. And you ruined a perfectly good story."
They fell into another quiet moment, but one that lacked the uneasy tension of earlier. Harry allowed his mind to wander and imagined them on the embankment, the fine strands of Draco's hair blowing in the wind as they walked past the benches full of tired American tourists. There would be an anticipatory sparkle in Draco's grey eyes as Harry reached out to tuck those rebellious pieces of hair back behind Draco's ear where they belonged. Harry's hand would linger, moving down to cup Draco's cheek, angling his face just right so that all Harry would have to do is lean forward and press his lips--
"I don't like it," Draco announced.
"What?" Harry cried, stunned out of his daydream. "But I thought..."
"According to this, we won't be kissing until the end of our second date. Well, actually, our third. Perhaps even our fourth, if you count tonight. And that is just not on, Potter. Ignoring my hissy fit at the restaurant, I'm not actually a prude."
Harry's mouth went dry and the flame in his chest turned into a roaring fire. "So you'd like to kiss sooner?" he asked stupidly, because what else could he say?
Draco's grin was cunning, almost predatory. He turned and leaned into Harry, holding his gaze steady. "I think I would."
If it weren't for the steady beat of his pulse in his ear, Harry would have thought time had come to a standstill as Draco bent towards him, his eyes shuttered demurely. Harry stared at the soft, pink pout of Draco's lips until they stopped advancing and hovered centimeters from his own. They were slightly parted, dry but not chapped, with a well defined bow, and so close that Harry could feel the soft caress of Draco's breath against his own lips. Harry shut his eyes and closed the distance.
He had imagined there would be sparks, like the explosion of a Weasley Wild-Fire Wiz-Bang, when he kissed Draco for the first time. Instead, he felt himself melt into the kiss: soft, sensual, not at all like he'd imagined, and yet so much better. He felt Draco's hand come up to card through his hair, pulling gently as he got a firm grip to hold Harry's head in place. Harry couldn't help but moan as let his lips part further, allowing Draco access to deepen the kiss.
Slowly, Harry's sense of time returned to normal and felt the urgent need to make up for the tortuously slow pace of the initial kiss. He fisted his hand in the cloth of Draco's robe, pushing against the skinny chest beneath it and taking control. Draco acquiesced, allowing Harry to push him until his back hit the cushions of the sofa and Harry repositioned himself, crawling on top of Draco as best he could.
Once Draco was below him, Harry abandoned his lips and began a quest to kiss every square inch of Draco he could reach. He kissed his way up the hard line of Draco's jaw to his ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and biting gently, not hard enough to cause pain but just enough for Draco to groan and arch, pressing his chest against Harry's. Harry nibbled his way down Draco's neck, thrilled by the sounds of encouragement Draco made in response.
He wanted to go further, to find that delightfully sensitive bend where neck met shoulder, to worship the hollow of Draco's throat, to kiss Adam's apple and collar bone and everything in between and below, but the neckline of Draco's robes was too high. Countless yards of excessive fabric separated them, preventing Harry from his ultimate goal: feeling the warm flesh of Draco's body against his own. His spit soaked the cloth, which didn't taste nearly as good as Draco's skin. Harry tried to unbutton the top of Draco's robes and let out a frustrated growl as his overanxious hands fumbled and failed.
Draco caught Harry's hand in his own, pausing his desperate attempts to free Draco from the tyranny of posh menswear. "Stop," said Draco, slightly breathless. "I think this has gone far enough."
A wave of disappointment crashed over Harry; he could feel his burgeoning erection flag in dismay. Draco made him feel like a randy fifth year again: eager and wanting. He didn't want to be pushy and scare Draco away. He'd take whatever Draco was willing to give, but he had hoped for more than five minutes of snogging.
"Oh, don't look at me like I've drowned your pet kneazle. I meant we've gone far enough on this blasted sofa, you berk. There is no need to grope about in the parlor like a couple of teenagers. We're adults; I own a bed!"
Harry's mind stuck on one word. "Bed?"
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