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traintracksTitle: Incongruously Sweet
Author:traintracks
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Challenge Prompt:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
harry100's #204 -- 'half-blood'
Words: 100x6
Summary: Malfoy calls Hermione a mudblood for the last time.
He’d gone too far, said it one too many times: “Filthy mudblood…” Usually behind Hermione’s back but always loud enough for her to hear. Harry turned to see Malfoy, smiling and laughing with his mates. Harry fumed as one of them patted Malfoy on the back.
“Don’t,” Hermione said behind him. He turned to look at her, the fury hot behind his eyes. “Don’t,” she said again, shaking her bushy head of hair.
“Someone has to,” Harry said, and when she grabbed for his arm, he shook her off.
He took one step and then another, following in Malfoy’s wake.
Malfoy ducked into the third floor bathroom, unaware that Harry followed, unaware that Harry was ready to draw his wand.
The door shut behind them both. “Say it again,” Harry said.
Malfoy turned quickly, his robes wooshing around his legs. “What the hell, Potter!”
Harry licked his lips, seeing scorn and fear in the other boy’s eyes. “I said, say it again. Call somebody a mudblood, Malfoy. If you’re going to say it, say it to me. Say it to my face, you slimy coward.”
Malfoy took half a step backward, blinking, and Harry felt adrenaline shoot through his body.
This was it. Malfoy was off-balance. He should go in for the kill now, get in his face and make Malfoy take the first shot.
“Say it!” Harry shouted, his voice echoing off the tile. He strode into Malfoy’s space, backing him up against the sinks. “Fucking say it, you little weasel.”
Malfoy’s lips trembled. Harry watched him try to harden his expression. He firmed his lips and then spat out, “Filthy…half-blood…” the epithet coming out too soft at the end.
Harry took him by the robes. He wanted to hit him…wanted it so much. Yet he couldn’t. He couldn’t.
They stood like that for a long moment. Harry could hear the dripping of a leaky faucet, loud like a marching drum. Malfoy’s face was close, the robes tight in his hands. Malfoy’s eyes were bright with fear, alive and darting over Harry’s face. Harry didn’t know why he was waiting. He knew he should shove Malfoy to the ground, knew he’d done enough to keep the plonker’s mouth shut for the rest of the year. But Harry just stood there, breathing in Malfoy’s face, listening to the drip, the horrible hammering of his own heart.
And then it happened.
With a bizarre mewling sound, Malfoy crushed his lips to Harry’s. Harry’s hands loosened in Malfoy’s robes, his eyes instinctively closing. The other boy’s cold lips pressed hard at the corner of his mouth, the breath through his nose warm and fast. Harry stood there as Malfoy opened his mouth and pushed his tongue inside Harry’s, kissing him like his whole life lay between them.
For four seconds, Harry was too shocked to push him off. At least, that’s what Harry told himself as Malfoy’s tongue, incongruously sweet, licked over his, and Malfoy’s little whines of pleasure stopped his breath.
Harry would swear later that he’d been hexed. He’d swear it only to himself as he wouldn’t have the bollocks to admit what happened to anyone else. Whatever sorcery Malfoy had worked on him faded enough in the next moment for Harry to pull back. Their lips parted wetly, and Harry backed away.
He couldn’t hit Draco now.
He couldn’t shove him, hex him, anything.
Draco blinked at Harry, more terrified than ever, hands gripping the sink behind him.
Harry blinked back. He watched Draco shiver, watched him lick his swollen lips, then Harry turned, swallowing, and left the room.
Author:
traintracksPairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Challenge Prompt:
harry100's #204 -- 'half-blood'Words: 100x6
Summary: Malfoy calls Hermione a mudblood for the last time.
He’d gone too far, said it one too many times: “Filthy mudblood…” Usually behind Hermione’s back but always loud enough for her to hear. Harry turned to see Malfoy, smiling and laughing with his mates. Harry fumed as one of them patted Malfoy on the back.
“Don’t,” Hermione said behind him. He turned to look at her, the fury hot behind his eyes. “Don’t,” she said again, shaking her bushy head of hair.
“Someone has to,” Harry said, and when she grabbed for his arm, he shook her off.
He took one step and then another, following in Malfoy’s wake.
Malfoy ducked into the third floor bathroom, unaware that Harry followed, unaware that Harry was ready to draw his wand.
The door shut behind them both. “Say it again,” Harry said.
Malfoy turned quickly, his robes wooshing around his legs. “What the hell, Potter!”
Harry licked his lips, seeing scorn and fear in the other boy’s eyes. “I said, say it again. Call somebody a mudblood, Malfoy. If you’re going to say it, say it to me. Say it to my face, you slimy coward.”
Malfoy took half a step backward, blinking, and Harry felt adrenaline shoot through his body.
This was it. Malfoy was off-balance. He should go in for the kill now, get in his face and make Malfoy take the first shot.
“Say it!” Harry shouted, his voice echoing off the tile. He strode into Malfoy’s space, backing him up against the sinks. “Fucking say it, you little weasel.”
Malfoy’s lips trembled. Harry watched him try to harden his expression. He firmed his lips and then spat out, “Filthy…half-blood…” the epithet coming out too soft at the end.
Harry took him by the robes. He wanted to hit him…wanted it so much. Yet he couldn’t. He couldn’t.
They stood like that for a long moment. Harry could hear the dripping of a leaky faucet, loud like a marching drum. Malfoy’s face was close, the robes tight in his hands. Malfoy’s eyes were bright with fear, alive and darting over Harry’s face. Harry didn’t know why he was waiting. He knew he should shove Malfoy to the ground, knew he’d done enough to keep the plonker’s mouth shut for the rest of the year. But Harry just stood there, breathing in Malfoy’s face, listening to the drip, the horrible hammering of his own heart.
And then it happened.
With a bizarre mewling sound, Malfoy crushed his lips to Harry’s. Harry’s hands loosened in Malfoy’s robes, his eyes instinctively closing. The other boy’s cold lips pressed hard at the corner of his mouth, the breath through his nose warm and fast. Harry stood there as Malfoy opened his mouth and pushed his tongue inside Harry’s, kissing him like his whole life lay between them.
For four seconds, Harry was too shocked to push him off. At least, that’s what Harry told himself as Malfoy’s tongue, incongruously sweet, licked over his, and Malfoy’s little whines of pleasure stopped his breath.
Harry would swear later that he’d been hexed. He’d swear it only to himself as he wouldn’t have the bollocks to admit what happened to anyone else. Whatever sorcery Malfoy had worked on him faded enough in the next moment for Harry to pull back. Their lips parted wetly, and Harry backed away.
He couldn’t hit Draco now.
He couldn’t shove him, hex him, anything.
Draco blinked at Harry, more terrified than ever, hands gripping the sink behind him.
Harry blinked back. He watched Draco shiver, watched him lick his swollen lips, then Harry turned, swallowing, and left the room.
