Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Muggle Technology and Heroism	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6929 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters and I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Three days later and Harry was no longer too sure about Hermione's plan. It seemed ridiculous now that his head had cleared from his unexpected bout of bawling his eyes out like some love sick schoolgirl. God he felt horribly pathetic, and now here he was, laying on the couch after skiving off work early and eating ice cream right out of the container with a soup spoon just to complete the pitiful picture. Ron insisted that he was just in a funk and that he'd come out of it sooner rather than later but Harry was rather convinced at the moment that he'd probably stay in said slump until a certain someone stopped invading his life.

It was all Ethan's fault.

Fucking Ethan with his stuttering speech patterns and skin that smelled like old books and handshake that seemed just as distracted as his eyes always projected. God damn Ethan with his princely smile and uncomplicated history and blowing back into town and taking Draco to dinner so Harry had to eat by himself the last few nights. Shitty Ethan with his hand that touched Draco's like it belonged there, with his too tall body that didn't fit quite right in their door frame and his annoying ability to fix the remote control before Harry could get to it.

Not to mention, how the fuck was he supposed to do any of Hermione's steps if Draco was never around without the git? It was in that moment, when Harry felt both like crying all over again and beating the day lights out of a man who, really, was much too nice to hate as vehemently as he did, that the fireplace roared - the flames throwing high and turning bright green. Harry turned his head dejectedly towards it as he fit the spoon in his mouth and balanced the half empty carton on his stomach. If Ethan stepped out of those flames Harry was going to flog him with his sticky spoon.

"Pansy's throwing a party." Draco announced as he swept through the floo, his long fingers brushing thoughtlessly across his robes as he stepped into the room.

Harry grunted and jammed another bite of freezing cream into his mouth - staring at the fireplace until the flames died back down and didn't spit out a second person.

"Eloquent as ever Potter." He dropped his briefcase on the table before snatching the carton from Harry's hands and nudging his legs to the side so he could plop down next to him. "What is this, caramel?"

"And Chocolate." Harry shifted and handed the other man the spoon.

"Interesting." Draco muttered after taking a small bite. "Anyway, as I was saying, Pansy's having a party. It's a costume sort of thing, muggle pop culture is the theme I believe."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he dragged himself up into a sitting potion, tugging uselessly at his horribly wrinkled shirt and abandoning trying to manage his hair seconds into attempting to finger his way through the knots. "It's muggle themed? Since when does Pansy like anything muggle?" He flicked his wand and caught the spoon that came sailing his way a moment later - the newly acquired utensil dipping immediately into the carton to shovel out another bite.

Draco shrugged as he pulled the spoon from his mouth thoughtfully. "It's gitchy apparently."

"Since when is muggle gitchy?"

"Fuck if I know."

Harry nodded as he stared down at his empty spoon and tried to gather his elusive courage. Draco had been gone so much lately Harry felt like he had barely seen him and now that he was back, sitting so close their shoulders knocked whenever they moved to scoop a bite from the carton Draco still held in his possession, it was time to give Hermione's plan a go. No regrets right? And step one was touching - which at first Harry had thought was odd considering that they touched frequently, but then his studious friend had pointed out that it was Draco who was always initiating it, the one who always grabbed his arm or looped his shoulder or touched his hand. According to Hermione, Harry needed to get him to start thinking about him in a sexual manner and apparently touching him was supposed to help accomplish that...somehow.

Course that was easier when they were arguing or messing about or cooking or cleaning or playing a pickup game of quidditch...really any circumstance beside Harry sitting there and thinking about it was easier.

He swallowed thickly, pushing his cumbersome thoughts away and slid his leg an inch closer, pressing it alongside the other man's as he hid the action in his attempt to scoop up a particularly caramel laden chunk of ice cream. He felt like a spectacular idiot already.

"You taking Ethan?" He asked around his mouthful as he watched carefully for any sort of reaction from Draco in regards to the fact that he could now feel the man's thigh - tight and warm and god, he shouldn't be this nervous already.

But there was none, the other either uncaring that they were pressed together or simply didn't notice, or maybe it wasn't enough of a move after all - because honestly this was nothing really. Though it was hard to think what would be. Did she expect him to randomly try to hold his hand at dinner? To just lay down on top of him the next time the man refused to budge over? Though...that last one wouldn't exactly be new either...Harry could still remember that cold winter day when Draco had returned from his parents in a foul mood. How he had swept from the floo, cursing under his breath and stalking up and down the hall before finally noticing Harry curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets as he watched the telly. He had just blinked at him quietly and Harry had been a second away from asking what was wrong but then Draco was shucking off his cloak and shoes and slipping under the blankets with him - fitting his back to Harry's front without a word.

They fell asleep like that, watching some program Harry couldn't remember without muttering a single word to each other. It had been the best night sleep he could remember ever having - to have someone that close, to be curled around another warm body, to feel the rise and fall of their chest, it had been heaven.

"No." Draco shook his head and took another bite without any further elaboration. "And in a stroke of genius I had this afternoon, I've already got our costumes picked out."

Harry paused with his spoon in his mouth as he cocked his head and gazed quizzically at the other. "You do?"

Draco grinned and turned towards him as he balanced the carton on his knee with one hand. "You're going to be Bond."

"What?"

"James Bond, everyone's favorite hero, its perfect!"

"Me? Why aren't you going to go as Bond? You're the one that's in love with him."

Draco rolled his eyes, like the answer was obvious and Harry was more than a little dense for asking such a thing. "I can't be Bond, he's the hero, I'm going to be the good looking villain." He explained, then with a manic sort of grin, he was depositing the carton on the table and pulling a small lime green squirt gun from his pocket as he sat up on his knees, sneering down at Harry with one eye narrowed threateningly - or at least Harry assumed it was supposed to be threatening. "I shall be your downfall Mr. Bond." He intoned in a terrible Russian accent that Harry couldn't help but smile at as the other man leveled the water gun at his face.

"I don't recall any of the male villains being good looking." Harry pointed out while trying to smother his blasted grin.

Draco narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger, lukewarm water hitting Harry's cheek and splattering his lenses. "There's a first for everything and it's about time Bond stopped chasing skirts don't you think?"

"I don't think you can turn Bond gay Draco." Harry laughed, shielding his face as the blonde growled and pumped the trigger in rapid succession. "Fuck, cut it out!"

The sound that came out of Draco's mouth was a truly terrible, over the top, evil laugh. "Come on Harry, you got to do better than that. Bond would never try to end a fight by whining." Slipping from the couch, Draco walked slowly backwards as he dug something out of his pocket before shedding the robes from his body in one fluid flourish. The black garment fanned out, billowing through the air and around Draco's limbs before floating delicately to the ground - leaving Harry staring stupidly after it and wondering how the hell he had even managed such a move. But then he didn't have time to further contemplate it because Draco was tossing him a small blue squirt gun with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Even ground now Mr. Bond, what are you going to do?" He challenged in that ridiculous accent again, his water gun leveled at Harry once more, his arm held straight out with one foot planted solidly behind him - a classic dueling stance like he was moments away from flinging a curse at him.

Then he moved and Harry dived off the couch, rolling on the ground with a little laugh before springing up on his knees and firing his measure of water at the other man. He missed and with a smirk Draco started to monologue in the way that truly terrible villains did in old movies - telling him every evil plan he had and how he was going to depose of Harry as they moved through the flat, squirting water at each other and diving through doorways and hiding behind tables and bookcases.

Harry didn't know why it was quite so much fun, it was terribly juvenile and yet he couldn't stop grinning, Draco's ridiculous speech and every time he almost got hit making him feel lighter than he had all week. He felt nearly giddy by the time he slipped into the kitchen with his breath fast in his chest and splashes of water running across him. He heard Draco's feet coming up fast behind him and he'd nearly made it past the table and to his intended hiding spot when a hand caught his wrist - spinning him with his own momentum as something caught his ankle and sent him crashing to the tiled floor with an, "oomph!" His squirt gun skidding away from him and under the fridge.

"Surrender Mr. Bond." Draco grinned victoriously, his knees planted on either side of Harry's hips as he stared down at him with the toy gun inches from the darker man's nose. His blonde hair was falling in haphazard waves in his face, his pale cheeks flushed, and sometime during the encounter he had shed his outer shirt, leaving him clad in a slightly too tight black undershirt which only added to the illusion that Draco had morphed into some evil, hired muscle. It made Harry's heart beat something fierce and made him wonder if perhaps pulling him down and snogging him breathless was a little too much for step one touching. "Join the dark side or meet your maker."

Harry tried not to smile as he worked to figure out a way out of his loss and not concentrate on the fact that he had the other man straddling his lap while looking like he'd popped out of some spy film. "The dark side? You're getting mixed up, that's Star Wars."

Draco's brow furrowed but his aim remained steady. "Star what?"

"It's a film series, you'll like it, probably become a Han Solo nutter."

"Is he fit?"

"Oh very." Harry grinned, laughing inwardly as he watched Draco debate with himself - trying to decide no doubt if he wanted to go see this Star Wars thing now or if he wanted to have a proper finish to their impromptu battle.

"Yes well, we'll discuss this Solo later, now concentrate Potter!"

"Right, sorry. So..." He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly, his blood pumping hot in his veins, his giddy spirit driving him higher, and pressing him forward. No regrets, he repeated to himself. "This would be the part where Bond would kiss his sexy nemesis and escape if I recall." He prayed to Merlin that the flush was already on his cheeks from all their running about as he slipped his hands onto Draco's firm thighs, his fingers moving up in minuscule movements, his skin itching to go higher, to press harder. "I mean, your goal was to turn him gay right?"

"What?" Draco's eyes rounded so very slightly, his pink mouth dropping open a fraction in surprise, softening his face just the smallest amount, and stealing Harry's breath as the man's firm aim faltered, wavering slightly.

Harry grasped his wrist during the man's moment of stunned disbelief and twisted the gun from his hand as he surged upwards - his arm wrapping around Draco's waist as his free hand grabbed the back of his head and yanked him towards him. The gasp that left Draco's lips lit a fire in Harry's belly seconds before he was turning his face and licking a wet stripe up the side of the blondes face, his lips lingering a moment too long on his cheek bone as he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

Fuck.

"Ugh! Potter!" Draco groused, squirming in his arms.

"I win." Harry grinned, pulling back to look up into Draco's face as he lightly pressed the squirt gun against the blonde's temple. "Bond always wins." He intoned lowly, knowing his impersonation was horribly off but it was worth it to see the smile twitch on Draco's lips as he crossed his arms and sat back on Harry's thighs - his cheek glistening with Harry's spit.

"I demand a rematch."

"Too late, I won."

"You cheated."

"No, I was crafty." Harry winked.

Draco snorted, shaking his head in a way that seemed rather fond to Harry, like maybe he didn't think him so much an idiot as enduring. "I hate to break it to you Potter, but face licking isn't crafty, it's just disgusting."

Shrugging, Harry wiggled the water gun against Draco's temple. "Regardless, I still won, now surrender or I'll soak your head until your hair is one gigantic curl."

"Don't you dare, Pansy's going to be here soon."

Cocking his head, Harry considered the blonde for a moment before biting his lip and grinning. "You mean she hasn't met curly haired Draco? She hasn't had the absolute pleasure of seeing you all -"

"I'll fucking do worse than lick you if you finish that thought." Draco threatened dangerously and Harry had a feeling he truly meant it. The other man detested the natural wave that overtook his hair the moment water dampened it for reasons Harry couldn't fathom - because Merlin, Draco looked beyond sexy with his hair all wild. He loved catching Draco in the morning before the man could tame it with a spell, his eyes sleepy and locks a soft riot and voice gruff.

"I like curly haired Draco." He retorted without thinking, hoping the moment the words left his lips that they sounded casual and perhaps a bit mocking, like he hadn't just admitted anything and was simply continuing on in their bickering.

"Shut up." He grumbled.

"No really, you're just so cute." Harry snickered as the other man slipped off his lap and flipped him the finger. "You're right, sorry, not cute. Sexy. You're dead sexy, we all should be so lucky."

"Damn right." Draco shot back at him as he swept from the kitchen, his feet padding down the hall before disappearing into his bedroom with a shout over his shoulder. "Now go get ready, you look like you've been moping in bed all day."

Harry smiled at the empty air despite the fact that Draco had just said that he looked like shit as he remained sitting on the kitchen floor with the squirt gun in hand, something warm spreading through his body and a blush on his cheeks.

****

"So?" Hermione was grinning, her hand on his elbow as she leaned close to whisper over the steady thump of music all around them.

"So...?" Harry raised an eyebrow and dipped his head towards her, straining his ears to hear her softly spoken words.

"So, how's it going? With Draco?"

"Oh." Harry blushed and glanced down at the nearly empty drink in his hand as he shifted awkwardly in his chair. This really wasn't the time or place to be discussing her five step plan of seduction. Not with Pansy sitting across from them and chatting with Seamus and Luna, not with Ron on Harry's other side (who was clearly trying to listen without appearing so), and most definitely not with Draco and Theo Nott walking calmly back towards their table with their hands full of drinks. "It's um...good? We had a water gun fight before coming here actually."

Her eyebrows knitted themselves together as she studied his face. "A water gun fight?"

"Yup."

"How is that part of step one?"

"He erm...ended up on my lap." Hermione stared at him and Harry scratched the back of his neck as he kept his gaze from catching with Ron's while trying to flee from hers. Fuck, there was no escape. "...And I may have, licked his face...possibly."

"His face?" Ron quipped, knocking his shoulder into his. "Why?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" He muttered, knowing that it came out sounding more like a question than anything else but while sitting pinned beneath his two best friends stares it was getting harder to remember exactly why he had thought that had been a good idea in the first place. But having Draco that close - in his arms, on his fucking lap - had apparently severed any and all brain functions, whittling him down into a useless puddle once more. Though now it seemed slightly pathetic that he had ended up wanking frantically afterwards, his eyes shut tight and reliving the softness of Draco's cheek and the breath that had puffed out against him with that wonderful weight over and around him - picturing the blondes beautiful flushed complexion and blinking eyes when Harry pulled back with the others lips so very close to his own. "I won." He tacked on lamely. "The fight, that is..."

Hermione sighed quietly, glancing quickly at Pansy who was still engrossed with something Seamus was saying before shifting even closer to him and sharing a brief telepathic exchange with her husband. He hated when they did that, made him feel like a child about to get reprimanded by his parents. "Harry...that's not exactly what I had in mind." Her hand was back on his arm, touching light and hesitant, like she was afraid he was going to break with the news that he was shit at flirting.

"Yeah, you don't lick anything before the first date." Ron explained with a chuckle.

"I know." He grumbled and wanted to knock his head against the table as Draco slipped into the empty spot next to Pansy across from him, a reserved smile on his lips as he handed Harry his drink.

"Know what?" Draco asked, resting his elbow against the table as he leaned towards them.

"Where's my drink?" Pansy demanded, her stubby finger raised in the air to halt Seamus mid-sentence as she turned an accusing glare on her friend and thus saving Harry from having to think up a satisfying answer in a split second. Which was rather impossible, given that Draco was smiling, and flushed in the hot room, and the flash of light over their heads made him glow like some sort of angelic being - not to mention that Harry had been in a dizzying state of mind since they had left their flat with Draco's arm looped through his and his voice chatting on about everything they would need to go shopping for to put together their costumes.

Apparently a trip to the tailors was in his near future.

"That nasty concoction you insist on sucking down comes with an abundance of sliced fruit and a miniature umbrella." Draco didn't bother even glancing at her as he answered with a disinterested air about him, his long fingers playing with the rim of his own glass that smelled strong and oaky.

"So?" She demanded after the blonde failed to elaborate. "Where is it?"

"It's at the bar." Draco drawled and glanced sideways at her. "I refuse to be seen with such an atrocity."

Pansy's gaze turned incredulous as Seamus barked out a laugh and slouched onto the table so he could see and hear everyone properly. "You refuse to be seen with it? You’re as fucking gay as they come Draco!"

The blonde lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug as Seamus oohed dramatically and Harry took a sip of his drink as he watched the exchange. "Which just solidifies the fact that I am the epitome of good taste."

"Can't argue that." Seamus chimed in, earning his own glare from Pansy and judging by his sudden wince, a quick kick to the shin under the table. "Well its true ain't it? Malfoy's got that posh thing going for him. Oozing money and sex."

"Oozing?" Ron wrinkled his nose. "Why does that sound so disgusting?"

"Because it's a disgusting word." Harry piped in. "Nothing good is associated with oozing, makes me think of Care of Magical Creatures." He shuddered dramatically as his friends grouped around the table laughed, each no doubt thinking of their own misfortune in that class. Then Seamus launched into his own personal account of raising a Blasted Ended Skewert thirteen years ago which, despite the Gryffindor’s shared love for Hagrid, really just proved what a traumatic experience it had been for everyone involved.

The night passed with stories being shared around the table - drinks replenished and spilled, and laughs growing in pitch and frequency - and Harry was starting to think that maybe Hermione changing their weekly dinner at his house for a night out hadn't been such a bad idea, even if he still couldn't quite figure out the reason for it. Dinner at home was more intimate, closer quarters, usually followed by a movie with Draco sitting close - it was ideal for step one. Whereas the club - well Harry could move his foot he supposed and press it against Draco's under the table. He could go get the next round with the other man and maybe touch the small of his back...his stomach twisted at the thought because that seemed like it would be horribly obvious if he tried to do something like that.

That was the way Ethan touched Draco, the way the blondes flings touched him. Not Harry.

Though maybe...maybe, Harry could Apparate them back if he stopped drinking now. Maybe he could put on Stars Wars - he was sure he had a copy somewhere - and spread the woolly blanket Draco favored over their legs and move his hand...God he really was shit at this.

"Stop scowling at the table Harry." Hermione muttered at him with a nudge against his side.

"Sorry." He muttered, glancing quickly at Draco who was engaged in a quiet conversation with Nott. "It's just...why are we here?"

Hermione grinned, a slow spreading smile that made Harry immediately regret his question because he had a feeling he was about to find out the answer right that second and that he wasn't going to like it. "Step one and two."

"Two?" Harry hissed, glancing around himself like a blind date was suddenly going to pop up out of the floor and whisk him off.

"Tomorrow Harry." She rolled her eyes before straightening her back and raising her voice just a little but loud enough to be heard across the table. "His name's Craig, very cute, dark hair and a charming smile. He's new to the department, just transferred from Archives I believe."

"What?" Harry croaked, his throat dry and the liquor heavy on his tongue as he took a drink. It was ridiculous perhaps but he hadn't actually thought that Hermione was going to literally set him up with someone, because...well fuck, he didn't want to go out on a blind date with Formally From Archives Craig. He didn't want to go out on a blind date with anyone.

"He wants to know if you like dancing?" She was still smiling and Harry shifted awkwardly as he felt Ron and Draco's eyes both slide to him simultaneously, like they could feel the discomfort rolling off him.

"Dancing? Harry doesn't dance." Draco was turned fully towards them now, his gaze jumping from Harry to Hermione with a question in his slate gray eyes.

"Should I tell him yes?" She asked as if she hadn't even heard him.

"Er, yeah?" Oh god, no, what was he saying?

"What?" Draco was looking at him incredulously like he couldn't possibly believe what he was hearing. "Potter, you've told me on numerous occasions that you'd rather be held under the cruciatus then join a dance floor."

"Erm."

"Great! He'll pick you up at eight o'clock." She beamed at him and Harry felt himself nod in agreement since his throat was much too tight to possibly speak at the moment. Fuck, why was he so nervous already? He could do this, he could go on the date, he could - well no, he couldn't actually dance, but he could try.

"He? Who is he?" Draco demanded, his lip twitching in the frustrated way that is always did when he didn't have all the pieces to a puzzle.

"Craig." Hermione turned her smile on Draco, her entire stature composed and calm as she played her hand in a game that apparently she only held the cards to. Course Harry would have appreciated a heads up that she was going to spring a date on him tonight, maybe then he wouldn't feel so off kilter and like he was going to sweat through his shirt.

"And who is Craig?" Draco's voice was tight and Harry blinked at him, something that fluttered warmly in his stomach attacking him at the narrowed curve of his eyebrows and slight frown on his lips. If Harry didn't know better he would think that Draco looked a tad...unnerved?

"Harry's blind date." She answered without missing a beat. "Very sweet man, I think you'll really like him Harry."

"Yeah, he's funny too, we had him over for dinner last week, just wait till you hear his stories, Merlin the things the guy's had to deal with!" Ron threw his arm over Harry's shoulders, his head leaning towards him as he knocked his glass against the one resting dumbly in Harry's hand. "Reckon you'll hit it right off."

"A blind date?" Draco repeated, swerving his disbelieving gaze at Ron for a split second before settling once more on Harry. "You're going dancing on a blind date?"

"Yup."

"Dancing." Draco stressed, staring him down.

"Sounds like it."

"Where?" The blonde asked as he looked over at Hermione.

"I don't know he didn't say, probably some place fun, a bit like this club I'd imagine." She answered nonchalantly as she glanced thoughtfully around the large room. "In fact it would probably be wise of you to get some practice in Harry, it's been ages since you've been dancing hasn't it?"

Ages was an understatement, it was closer to never, and if Harry was going to be entirely accurate then he'd be forced to admit that he had danced exactly once before. When he was fourteen. At the Yule Ball. And he was pretty sure people didn't dance in clubs while on dates like they did at the Triwizard Ball. "Yeah." He hedged, drowning his words in a long drink along with the growing unease in his stomach at the turn of conversation.

"So it's perfect timing! This is a wonderful song." She grinned.

Harry really wanted to hate her in that moment as his ears picked up the steady thump of music - loud and fast. There was no way his feet could move to such a rhythm without him tripping and gashing his head on something...or someone. "I don't think -"

"Best get to it Harry, don't want to embarrass yourself." Ron said and Harry glared at him, wishing very much that he could punch his mate for agreeing with his wife and sinking him deeper into the situation.

"But -"

"Go on." Hermione giggled - actually giggled - and pushed at his shoulder.

"You -"

"Their right Potter, if you insist on going along with this terrible travesty of an idea then you should at least warm up so you don't make a fool of yourself." Draco's long fingers were drumming thoughtfully on the table, his words low under the music and catching Harry off guard as he tried to keep himself from gaping. But then Draco was rising from his chair and staring expectantly down at him in his acid washed jeans and black cashmere sweater that slouched just a smidgen on the left - exposing a hint of his collar bone and slipping around the hallow of his milky throat, the sleeves just a little too long so they dropped down to the first knuckle of his thumbs. He somehow looked both cozy and fashionable, donning the attire in his effortless way that he wore everything with his bright hair messily tousled and gray eyes locked with Harry's.

It was that very moment that Harry was forced to admit all over again that Hermione really was nothing shy of genius - her smile wide with a wink sent his way as Harry dragged himself from his chair, his heart beating strangely fast in his chest. It was hard to believe that she planned this whole night with the sole purpose of getting the two of them on the dance floor together but now that he thought about it, it seemed obvious, every little thing she had said and done all evening leading to this exact moment - Harry following Draco through the smattering of tables with the blondes fingers tangled thoughtlessly through his as he commanded his hands not to sweat.

He wanted to ask how she knew how Draco would react to the news of Harry's impending date, how she knew that he would take it upon himself to teach Harry how to dance, how she knew that he would even fucking agree to it. But they were at the edge of the dance floor now where the lights were dim with bright pops of color, the shafts of light moving like the floor was a living, breathing thing - a mass of multicolored bodies withering together, undulating like waves in an ocean. His palms started sweating rebelliously as he watched the men and women move in time to the beat, his feet stumbling as Draco gave a tug and led them to a spot halfway through the crowd.

He gulped as Draco turned and looked at him, half the man's face in dark shadows, the other in blue tinged light and Harry bit his lip hard as his flatmate started moving his hips - tugging Harry closer and sliding his feet in a rhythm that the darker man couldn't comprehend let alone imitate. Draco was a born dancer, his lithe frame moving both elegantly and sensually seemingly without an ounce of effort. Harry had watched him so many times before, back when their friendship was still that fragile thing that didn't make any sense most of the time, he could remember sitting in the booth with his drink, staring at the blonde as he moved, relaxed and graceful. He had made him itch with the curve of his body bending to the music, had made his breath fast and a stupid smile spread over his lips as he watched him. Watching Draco dance had felt like touching a live wire - searing hot and blinding and it was even more intoxicating up close.

"Relax Harry, you're stiff as a board. Here, put your arms around my neck." Draco smiled, dipping his head near to be heard over the music, his hand finding Harry's hip and grasping lightly.

Harry sucked in a breath and did as he was told, his arms winding around Draco's shoulders and pulling himself nearer as the other man took hold of his other hip and started guiding him. "Like this?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound as breathless as he felt as his toes bump into Draco's, their chests nearly touching with the blondes hands on his hips burning into his skin.

"A bit better." He chuckled, the sound rumbling between them, his breath ghosting over Harry's face as he turned his chin towards him. "God you really are awful at this, no wonder you stopped wanting to come out with me." One hand snaked around the small of Harry's back, pulling in a way that would bring them fully into contact if Harry decided to let it - his feet moving that half an inch before he could even weigh the consequences. But god, Draco's body was long and hard and sharp and hot, fitting against his as he was lead into each movement, each bend and step and twist guided by Draco's fingers and hips and feet as Harry grasped his shoulder and the back of his neck. "You have to stop thinking about it." Draco murmured into his ear, his fingers splaying down over his hip, and Harry's eyes fluttered closed. "It's all feeling."

He could vaguely feel the press of others around them, the music dulling to the back of his mind as Harry hid a grin in Draco's shoulder, his mind buzzing with electricity as he felt himself drowning in all the sensations rushing through him all at once. He was hot all over, his heart a drum in his chest, beating loud, his fingers sliding through the silky soft hairs at the nape of Draco's neck, the other man’s scent wrapping around him as fingers rested against the band of Harry's trousers. He didn't know that dancing could feel like this, like they were an extension of each other, Harry still moving awkwardly and off balance but even still, it somehow felt utterly perfect.

Perhaps that was why, the utter perfectness of the moment, that Harry didn't speak up and correct him. Some things were better left to lie and never be voiced and the fact that Harry had stopped coming out with him to clubs was because his stomach had started souring each night the blonde found himself tangled with some unknown man was one of those things. It didn't seem to matter in that moment, not with the closeness of the other man, pressed tight to him and not some nameless bloke.

The song finished and changed, the lights flicking yellow and red, and Harry felt the music thrum up through his legs, their bodies moving in tandem. He knew that Draco was a sensual dancer, just like almost everyone around them was, but the hands on his body felt so intimate, so real, causing the ache inside him to grow and grow and when Harry pulled back slightly and caught Draco's eye - the gray dark in the shifting light and his cheeks flushed pink - he had to swallow the words that pressed at his tongue. Instead he let his hand wander down Draco's back, fingers curling into the band of his trousers as Harry fought back against his better judgment and found his own rhythm.

A rhythm that pressed against Draco in a rolling wave of heat and Harry felt himself fall apart a little bit more as he heard the blonde's breath hitch in his ear - the other man's hands grasping him tight and moving right back against him in perfect time.

A/N: Long chapter for you all, hope you liked it!

Phoenixmalfou: Thank you so very much!

SP77: Thank you! I do edit and try and catch all errors but alas I know I shall never be able to compeletly, please feel free to point out any glaring errors so I can fix them :)

AnnonymousTigress: Thank you! Ah yes, love the idea of Hermione coming up with the plan for Harry, hehe.

streakerboi: Thank you so much!
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Muggle Technology and Heroism