Sugarplum Fairies

- Sugarplum Fairies -

"I'm not going to -date- you, Potter," Draco sneered. "Malfoys don't date. Malfoys court, maybe, but that's only if it's in our best interests. Nothing but your prick holds my interest in any way, shape or form, so I really don't see--"

"Rubbish. Why the hell not? There's nothing wrong with dating," Harry said primly, then stopped, feeling as if some Hufflepuff had seized control of his vocal cords for a moment. "It's not like I'm asking you to hold hands in Madame Puddifoot's!" Harry didn't really want to either, but it was the principle of the thing. He crossed his arms and dug his heels in, breathing more heavily through his nose.

"It's the principle of the thing, Potter. What if someone found out? I'd never hear the end of it and neither would you. Come on, you know what they'll say-- 'So who's the girl?' and 'So when are you wearing the white dress' and 'Kissy-kiss for us, lovebirds'." Draco shuddered. "And that's really the nicest I could think of, too."

"Since when do you care what people call you?"

"Since they can call me Potter's Bitch, that's when." Draco's mouth curled.

"Oh, but you're -beautiful- when you're bitchy," Harry smirked.

There was a pause, when Draco's eyebrow quirked upwards and he looked violently constipated. "This means death," he said finally. "You realize that, don't you? Death."

"Come and death me, Malfoy," Harry drawled.

Draco's little eyebrow tic was beginning to make Draco look seriously unhinged. "You're enjoying this, aren't you. You brought this up just to spite me and make me have a fit, didn't you. Didn't you?!?" Draco was screaming now, tic forgotten in favor of arm-waving and spittle-flying.

"Well," Harry said rather calmly, "I just thought it was the next step, you know. We've been shagging for two months now, and we haven't even had a decent conversation."

Draco stopped dead mid-wave, gaping. "You want to have-- conversation?!? With -me-? What's next, breakfast in bed?"

"And why not? I thought we could, you know, go out. Next Sunday it's Hogsmeade weekend. We could have a butterbeer or something. No one has to know. We could just delay the shagging temporarily, till we get back, that's all-- maybe that'll make it even better, you never know. We don't have to talk. We could just get something at Honeydukes and take a walk...."

"And then we could stare into each other's eyes and you can tell me my hair sparkles like the moon in Tahiti and I can tell you your emerald orbs inflame my soul, right?" Draco was smirking, almost enjoying the idea. "I can show you off to all the fifth-year Hufflepuff girls and say, 'Look you ninnies, I know you want Harry Potter's babies, but it's really too bad the old chap prefers a good rogering up the arse, don't you, -Harry-?'"

"Well if you're going to be that way, -fine-," Harry huffed.

"I'm only telling the truth, -darling-," Draco grinned, feeling he was back on home territory.

Draco backed Harry up against the wall as was his wont, leering up into Harry's face, rubbing their crotches together lightly, just enough to get Harry hot and bothered. Not that it took much rubbing. Harry had needs. Draco had supplies, and sometimes, he also had just a tiniest bit more patience. But then, Draco's priorities were a bit different sometimes, too.

"You just want me to call you -darling-, don't you, sugarplum? My ickle Harry-poo, awww, let me take care of that -awful- swelling for you...." Draco thrust a hand between them, kneading Harry's hard-on through the double layer of his robes and his jeans none too gently. "C'mon, say please, baby...."

Draco was grinning widely, watching Harry struggle for coherence. He had been careful to avoid friction directly on his own "sensitive areas", of course. Otherwise it would be no fun.

Harry gurgled, eyes rolling back in his head, his hips thrusting upwards completely beyond his control. "You're just-- trying to -distract- me, you poncey twit! Aaaaargh!! Fuck yeaaaaaahhh!"

Draco stopped kneading, his hand going still. He didn't want the fun over before Harry was -really- sorry in the only way that counted. Harry's mouth around him, unhappy erection still trapped in his jeans. Yes. Orgasms were the only tradeable currency they could both agree on. Though there were times nature gave freebies, of course, those were kind of embarrassing. Draco liked being on the better-safe-than-sorry side of things in catching them before that tell-tale first twitch. He thought he'd felt one just then, and smiled even more widely. The ball was in his court for sure now, so to speak.

"Who're you calling poncey, you flaming bloody fairy?! You're the one with the raging hard-on if you hadn't noticed, honeycakes. Ooooh, sugar-muffin," Draco crooned. "Come to daddy. Yeah, that'ssss right," Draco lisped, his mouth moving up Harry's jaw to his ear in just the way he knew drove Harry wild. "Besides, it's working, isn't it."

"Don't be-- so-- smug," Harry gasped out, writhing shamelessly now. "I can stop you anytime I want-- toooo--" His whole body convulsed, his words blatantly at odds with reality.

"Oh yeah, just keep telling yourself that, sweetcheeks." Draco pinched Harry's bum and stepped back a little. Harry wouldn't take much more teasing.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Malfoy, would you -cut it out- already?!?" Harry wailed.

"No way. You want to date, you said. Well, say we date. What's in it for me? I want privileges. Incentives. -Perks-, you might say." Draco chuckled, leaning in again to nip at Harry's jaw with sharp, slightly pointy teeth. "You don't think I'd date -you- out of the goodness of my -heart-, do you, Potter?"

"There's no goodness -in- you, Malfoy, so can't say I'd been expecting," Harry said sourly, frustrated since the friction stopped and Malfoy was smirking like he had him just where he wanted him. Which was probably true.

"Ow. Oww. What is that? Is that -pain- somewhere in my shriveled little Slytherin heart? Why, I think so! You wound me. Do you mean to say there is no goodness in The Malfoy Staff?!"

"I'll admit there is goodness when you put some -in- me, you cagey git!" Then Harry caught himself. "Not that you ever will," he said stoutly, until he ruined the effect by mumbling, "at this rate."

Draco smirked.

"What I mean is, stop trying to change the subject. If you don't want to date, just fucking say so." I hadn't really wanted to anyway, he fumed, frowning viciously. Or maybe pouting would've been a more accurate term, but Harry much preferred frowning.

"I thought I did," Draco said, pushing himself off of Harry and crossing his arms just like Harry usually did. "I don't know why you have to make such a big fucking production out of everything. I thought you were fine the way we were. I guess not, then."

"I -am- fine and you know it. At least I -was-," Harry added before he could stop it. "I just thought--"

"You thought we could go all official. On the straight and narrow, one might say. And then Weasley and Granger wouldn't have a leg to stand on because I'd be all leashed and tame and displayable, right?"

"No, I--"

"You thought maybe we could have a 'relationship' and then the Weasel would stop pushing his carroty lesbo sister at you because you'd have a -boyfriend- now, is that it? Maybe you even want her secretly, because she -would- hold hands and buy Everyflavor Beans with you and whisper in your ear during lunch. A proper little girlfriend for Perfect Bloody Potter, right?!"

Harry sputtered, flushing and feeling even more mortified by the sudden realization that maybe in some small hidden part of him he'd still wanted something like that, even after the Cho fiasco.

Draco turned his back to Harry, pretending to wipe at a smudge in the glass cabinet in front of him with sudden concentration, staring fixedly at the undulating, hard-to-recognize creature floating in its solution inside one of the jars. "And now we've wasted our last detention of the month -talking-," he sneered. "I really hope -that's- what you wanted too. I live to please, after all."

"I don't want a boyfriend," Harry said quietly. "I just want you."

Draco blew up at that, whirling around with his eyes blazing and his mouth twisted in an ugly snarl. "Don't you dare say that to me, Potter! You don't fucking know -what- you want and you know it. You only know what you -should- want and what your perfect little friends want. You've never known-- you've never--" Draco flushed suddenly. "Fuck this!" he growled, going for the door. "You can finish the stupid detention yourself and I don't care -what- you tell Snape. I hope he'll fuck you if you ask nicely, 'cause I sure as hell won't!"

"I'm sorry," Harry said, making no move to stop Draco. Nevertheless, Draco did stop.

"Oh, that's just perfect," he cried, trying vainly to sound mocking. "That's what you think -I- want, isn't it? Pretty little apologies from your pretty little mouth.... And the funny thing is... the funny thing is, you don't even mean it. You don't even know what you're sorry for." Draco stood there panting, his face in profile midway to the door of the Potions classroom. "Well, -I'm- not sorry, I can tell you that much. I will never -be- fucking -sorry-."

Harry's whole body felt frozen as he stood, fixed in place with those ten or twenty steps separating them. He forced himself to breathe in and out. Control. He was supposed to have learned some control of his own emotions by now.

"Okay, you're right, I'm not sorry. I can't imagine ever being sorry to you for anything, actually."

Harry was speaking without realizing what he was saying, only wanting Draco to keep still, not to take another step. He didn't want to rush him, pin him to the desk or the wall or the floor, smother him with kisses or fists, snag at his skin with frantic teeth. He just wanted.

"I get it, Malfoy. I get it. It's take it or leave it, always has been. And that's fine. I-- I just want-- I do want you." The last few words came out in a harsh whisper, with his eyes closed and his fists clenched, even though he'd said as much so many times before. It felt different right then, somehow. "Any way I can get you. I want you."

Draco had his eyes screwed shut too, standing very still while his chest heaved and his head dropped heavily to his chest. Maybe they were saying something else now, finally, the things they'd been actually waiting for. They were saying all sorts of things neither one could hear, but they understood.

"Maybe one," Draco said at last.

Harry was still too blown apart to smile, but he felt it stirring, trying to open up inside him. "You don't have to, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Draco did smile, just a little. Just a small quirk of the mouth, and then it was gone. "No need to thank me, Potter."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Refer to me as your boyfriend and the whole deal's off. You'll be fair game."

"Of course."

"And I get to call you honeybuns in front of Weasley as much as I want. And his mother," Draco added, mouth quirking more noticeably.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, sugarplum darling."

"Now that's just in poor taste, Potter."

Harry laughed, pushing Draco against the wooden shelves next to the cabinet in a sudden movement. "You do taste good," he said, tongue darting out as he pulled down Draco's trousers. Draco's hips bucked, toppling a jar with what appeared to be sweet, pink rosepetals inside. They fluttered around them, one settling gently on Harry's tongue. It melted quickly, merging with the slightly salty tang of Draco's skin. "Mmmm, sugar-cock."

And neither one could argue with that.

~~