Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Irish Do it Better	By : icicle33 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2905 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the HP fandom. Clearly, no money is being made from this fic and it's only written for enjoyment purposes.

Chapter List
- 1-The Irish Do it Better
- 1
WARNING: This fic was written for the firewhiskeyfic challenge on LJ round 8. This entire fic including the author's notes (besides this one) were written when I was rather sloshed, so the SPAG might be questionable in places. However, I only think it adds to the amusement of it. This fic was also voted Best Smut for that round. I hope you enjoy it. Also, the challenge was 'Kiss me I'm Irish'. This is a bit of a crack!fic, so you've be warned.

Title: The Irish Do it Better

Author: icicle

I am of legal drinking age in my region: in my region: Hell yeah!

Pairing(s)/Characters: Harry/Draco

Challenge: Kiss me I’m Irish

Summary: Harry goes to Ireland. He runs into Draco at a pub. Then they do sexy stuff.

Rating/Warnings: NC-17

Word count: no clue (quite a few I think)

Author's Notes: Erm..enjoy. Good...luck? Idk. Some porn...

***

After the war, Harry had spent a lot of time locked up in his flat. However, he was getting restless, so he decided to stary travelling. Harry had never been anywhere before; he had never had the chance—as the Dursleys never took him anywhere, and he had never gone on a real holiday before. Therefore, he decided to start with a small trip first and wanted to go to Ireland. It was two years after the war, and Harry packed his bags and took the first flight to Ireland, Dublin, as he wanted to avoid being recognized by the wizarding world. He figured travelling as a Muggle would be better.

Of course, Harry’s flight to Ireland had been delayed. What should have been less than a two hour flight, turned into a four hour ordeal, and Harry was more than a bit annoyed. As soon as he got to Dublin, he decided to get a drink. He asked his taxi driver to bring him into the best pub in Ireland, and the cab driver did. He brought Harry to the Golden Unicorn.

The Golden Unicorn was the most famous pub in ALL of Ireland, wizarding or Muggle. Everyone who was anyone went to the Golden Unicorn, and although Harry usually avoided that type of thing, he decided to try it. “Fine,” he said to the cab driver, and once he paid him, Harry shrunk his luggage (to fit in his pocket) and went inside the pub.

The Golden Unicorn was your average pub. There was nothing special about it. Like your average pub, it held a rank stench of stale beer and had so many cobwebs and dust hanging in the beams of the pub, that you thought they had decorated for Halloween. Harry sighed as he walked in, not knowing what to expect, or what type of people he was going to meet. He really wanted to get laid; no, he needed to get laid as it was several months since he had last had a good shag. However, what he wanted even more was for no one to recognize him. He was so tired of playing the hero...so tired of having everyone suck up to him because of his name. The only thing he wanted was for someone to want him for him. God, for someone to even want him for his body as long as it wasn’t for his name. He adjusted his baseball cap, hiding his face as best as possible and walked further into the pub. Merlin help him.

***

As he walked further into the pub, the pub was rather large and had multiple floors, Harry noticed that htere were mainly blokes staring at him. Only blokes? That is peculiar. As he got closer to the bar, he saw a large, flashing sign that read: “Gentlemen’s night”. Ahh, so that’s what it was. For once, Harry was actually lucky since he much preferred blokes to birds, yet he wasn’t so sure if Irish blokes would be his type. Even if Harry wanted someone to like him for just being Harry, at the same time, he appreciated beauty and wanted a fit bloke for himself. As he looked around the bar, he didn’st see anyone that he felt was worthy of his time. Some were rather fit, but gingers weren’t really his style, considering they reminded him too much of the Weasleys, his adopted family. No, what he wanted was a blond. A beautiful blond.

“Excuse me,” he asked the bartender in a whisper, “do you know where I can find a beautiful blond?” He couldn’t help but blush; however, it was a few years since the war and as he got older, Harry had learnt that if you wanted something, you had to take it (or at least ask for it).

“Well,” the dark haired bartender said shaking his head, “we don’t have a lot of blonds here. Mostly redheads, love, but why don’t you go talk to our bar manager. You can find him upstairs. He’s blond and has a pretty hot arse if I do say so meself.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Harry paid the bartender for his pint and quickly chugged it. If there really was a beautiful blond bar manager hanging aournd upstairs, then he needed some liquid courage in his system. “Another,” Harry said to the bartender, “and a shot of your hardest whisky,” he added. He needed all the help he could get.

***

When Harry went upstairs to find the bar manger, three drinks later, he didn’t have to look very far to find him. Harry had been afraid that this well-know or perhaps even infamous bar manager would be hard to spot, but luckily for him, said blond bar manager was dancing on top of the bar. Harry’s jaw dropped as he took in the sight before heim. Dancing on top of the filthy, wooden bar was the last person he ever imagined to see: Draco Malfoy.

After the war, Draco had disappeared. Harry ahd been busy and was not able to make the Malfoys’ trial. He had been assured that at least Narcissa and Draco would not serve any time in Azkaban, so he had assumed that his presence would not be needed. Really, he had no idea that the Ministry would take everything that the Malfoys owned for war damages. Had he been there, he would have protested and made sure that the Malfoys would at least be left with enough galleons to live a normal life (without any luxuries); however, he didn’t know that this would happen, so he wasn’t there. Lucius had been sentencend to the Kiss right away and Narcissa had fallen ill shortly after. Left with nothing, Draco had left the country. And that had been the last Harry had ever heard of Draco. He had heard from Andromeda that Draco checked in everyone once in a while or sent postcards, but that was it. He didn’t know any specifics of Draco’s whereabouts. But now he did.

Apparently, after his mother’s death, Draco had moved to Ireland. And he had become a bar manger. Oh my God. Draco Malfoy, pure-blood poster boy a lowly bar manager....who would have though.

After taking a deep breath, Harry continued watching Malfoy. He was quite different than Harry had remembered him. He was dancing on top of the bar in tight Muggle jeans, much too tight to be comfortable, almost obscene, and a white collared shirt with a green button that Harry couldn’t make the writing out on. The white shirt was unbuttoned and revealed his entire pale torso, white and lightly muscled. Merlin’s beard. Somewhere along the way, somewhere between playing junior Death Eater and Harry’s nemesis, Draco Malfoy had become drop dead gorgeous.

“Malfoy...” Harry whispered, and continued watching the other man dancing on the bar and pouring shots into way too many blokes’ mouths.

“Malfoy,” Harry said again, louder this time, as he watched a large, burly redhead slap Draco’s arse.

“That’s not my name,” Draco hissed, turning around to see who had been addressing him.

“That’s right,” the burly, redhead answered, his voice nasal and annoying. “His name is McMalfoy.”

Harry snorted. McMalfoy...that had to be the most abusrd name he had ever heard. The Draco Malfoy he knew, the spoilt brat he had grown up with, would never stand for such a thing.

“Draco, please, I need to speak with you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry but called his various admirers off. Clearly, he too was curious as to who this foreign guest was.

He jumped off the bar and stood eye to eye with Harrry, a few inches taller than Harry much to his dismay.

“Potter?” Draco asked, as he stared into Harry’s eyes. “I-I what are you doing here?”

“I-I came to see you,” Harry lied. “Please dance with me.” He tried to look as pathetic as possible, to pout his lower lip and flutter his eyelashes. Harry knew that this pathetic, puppydog look worked on Hermione (sometimes) and Maolly, but he wasn’t sure if it would have any effect on Draco. Still, what did he have to lose?

Draco looked him up and down carefully, taking in every detail from his tousled hair to his old trainers. “Fine,” he finally agreed after a beat. “But I lead.”

He grabbed Harry by the arm and led him to the dance floor. Draco started bobbing to the music, shaking his arse and swaying his hips. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was a terrible dancer; he always had been, and unfortunately, he hadn’t improved much since his first Yule Bale. With a deep breath, he tried to mimic Draco’s movements.

Draco laughed at him, a deep laugh, and then smiled.

“Oh, Potter,” he shook his head. “You are a terrible dancer.” He pulled Harry close and whispered in his ear. “Why don’t we get out of here and I’ll give you a private lesson.”

Harry gulped but nodded his head anyway. There was no way he was going to give up any type of alone time with this beautiful man, even if it ws Malfoy.

***

“So what are you going to show me, Malfoy?”

“Show you,” Draco purred, “you’re just going to have to get closer to find out.”

They were locked in the upstairs office. Clearly, being bar manager had it’s privelages. Harry just didn’t want to think about how many other men Draco had brought here on the very same guise.

“Okay,” he answered, his voice breathy.

“Take off your clothes,” Draco orrderd.

“Huh?” But before Harry could argue, Draco had Vanished all his clothes.

“Malfoy...I need those,” Harry complained.

“Shut up, Potter. You do NOT need those now. I’ll take care of you.”

“Butjj”

Malfoy’s mouth was on his. His breath warm and sweet against his lips; he tasted like liquorice and green apple and Harry wondered what kind of shots Draco had been offering people. What a strange combination. His lips were soft yet strong and Harry had never imagined that Draco would be such a good kisser. Bloody hell, he was kissing Draco Malfoy. Of all fucking people.

“Draco,” he panted, “that was...”

“I know.” Draco looked at him smugly and then grabbed his shoulders. “Turn around,” he rasped, “I want to fuck you right now, Potter. You look so fuckng hot.”

“I-I” Harry wanted to protest; he should have protested as he barely knew Draco and Draco was his former enemy, but all he could do was whimper and bend over on the nearby couch. Draco obvioulsly did this a lot since there was large couch and all in his office. Harry pretended that the thought of Draco with othter men didn’t leave a gnawing, hot feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He could deal with that later.

“Turn over,” Draco hissed again, and this time, Harry did. “Do you want me to prepare you?”

“No,” Harry replied; he was surprised by his answer but stuck to it anyway. He was a Gryffidnor after all. “Just take me.”

“Suit yourself, Potter.” Draco smirked at him; he had that smug looked plastered all over his handsome face and usually that look made Harry want to punch him, rearrange his aristocratic face, but this time, it made Harry smile right back.

“Get to it.”

“Easy, Potter,” Draco said, smirk still firmly in place. “I’m in charge, so you relax.” He gave Harry’s arse a firm smack and instead of being furious or even annoyed, Harry coudln’t help but be undeniably turned on. Bloody hell.

Draco whispered an unfamiliar spell and Harry’s arse was wet, more than prepared for Draco to take him.

“Potter,” Draco rasped, as he slammed his cock into Draco’s arse. “I’m going to fuck you so hard. So hard until you scream.”

“GArrh.”

“Yes, garrhhh, indeed , Potter,” Draco teased. “I’ve,” he paused for a second, “wanted this for so long. Wanted you for so long.” He continued thrusting into Harry’s arse, each time deeper and harder than before. Harry wasn’t a virgin by any menas, but he certainly wasn’t used to having his arse so expertly shagged before.

With each thrust, Draco filled Harry with pleasure, a mind-numbing pleasure that spread all the way from his head to his toes. His entire body was trembling and as he reached out for his cock, stroking it hard, in rhythm with Draco’s thrusts, he knew that wasn’t going to last very long at all. Damn.

“Mal-foy,” Harry panted. Malfoy was hitting his prostate now, with every movement. Merlin’s beard, no one had ever done that before perhaps brush against his prostate, but never hit it with every movement.

“Mal-foy I’m—”

“Yes, me too, Potter. Do shut up.” Malfoy was red faced and thrusting even harder into Harry. He looked as if he were going to pass out, but he didn’t stop. He continued going, pushing harder and deeper until they both finally came in a large stream of white. Harry all over his stomach and Malfoy deep into Harry’s arse.

Never had Harry been so happy than to have an arse full of come before. Merlin’s balls what was going in? It couldn’t be possible that he fancied Draco Malfoy.

***

Draco pulled out of him and tried to catch his breath, his cheeks still beet red and his hair mussed.

“It’s not Malfoy any more,” he said after a few seconds.

“huh?”

“Are you deaf?” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “My name, Potter, it’s not Malfoy. It’s McMalfoy now.”

“Serisouly?” Harry said with a chuckle. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Draco crossed his arms across his chest. “It’s McDRaco McMalfoy.”

Harry chuckled again, louder than before. “No way...now you are really pulling my leg. NO way you wuld pick that name for yourself .”

“I didn’t.” Draco shrugged. “The lads here did. I had to apply for an Irish citizenship and that’s the name I was given.” He narrowed his eyes at Harry. “What’s it to you Potter?”

He looked remarkably like the Draco of old and Harry felt something in his stomch sink. “No, of course not,”he replied quickly.

He pulled Draco closer, by the collar of his shirt, and planted a large, wet kiss on his lips.

Draco moaned in appreciation and then smiled back, his face content, but eyes utterly bewildered.

“What was that?”

“You’re Irish now, aren’t you, Malfoy?” Harry pointed to the green button on Draco’s shirt. “It says ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’ on your button”.

Draco laughed and pulled Harry in for another kiss both of them still completely naked. “It sure does, Potter,” he said. “It sure does. Now, let’s go again.”

“Sounds good, McMalfoy.”

~Fin

A/N: (sober) So what did everyone think? I was rather amused by this the next morning when I read it. McDraco McMalfoy? Whiskey does strange things to my brain. That's my only response if you're asking yourself why? If you enjoyed this drunk!fic, I can post my drunk fic from last month too, which is a little more ridiculous and features Draco training penguins. Let me know if you would be interested in reading that?

Have a great weekend!

~Icicle
- 1
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

The Irish Do it Better