PIMPING AND THINGS

[dysonrules]

HELLO, EVERYONE!!!!  THIS POST IS PAST DUE!  WHY, YOU ASK?  Because I was supposed to have pimped hd-holidays last week, but GUESS WHAT?  There is still time to sign up.  YES, THERE IS.  AND YOU SHOULD.  BY CLICKING THE BANNER RIGHT NOW.  I'll wait.  *twiddles thumbs and surfs Tumblr for hot boy pics*  <---- yeah, right, I would never come back.

Many thanks to moonflower_rose for sending me some goodies whilst lounging around in Vegas, SO MUCH LOVE to saras_girl for the JAFFA CAKES (yes, there are some left, shocking, I know!) and piles of other amazing things of amazingness, and to adorable Deanne in Hawaii for the CUTE card and lovely message. 

What else?  I know there are other things, but my brain is like mushy wet toast right now.  Um... I'm getting ready for lubricus next month!!!!!  Can't wait to tacklehug everyone there!!!!

Here, have a silly ficlet.  :D  I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUUUUUUUCH!!!!  *twirls entires f-list* 

Street Fair

Draco wrinkled his nose with distaste as he stepped over a crumpled bit of newspaper and an empty bottle.  Muggles were filthy, even Harry had to admit.  Could they not at least clean up after themselves?  He sighed heavily to make his disapproval known, not for the first time.

“It isn’t much farther,” Harry said with a hint of impatience in his voice.

Draco said nothing.  He had agreed to this outing only after Harry had bribed him with a spectacular blow job—honestly, the man was talented.  Draco would agree to nearly everything in the afterglow from one of those and Harry bloody well knew it, damn him.  Aside from the horrid journey through Muggle London, Draco did not really mind visiting Harry’s cousin, Dudley.  Apparently the man had been a right prat to Harry as a child, but he had grown up since then and was part-owner of a pub.  Draco highly approved of pubs, even if Dudley’s was a far jaunt from the nearest Apparition point.

“You’ve been cooped up in the house for days.”  Harry was babbling.  “I swear you are developing agoraphobia.”  Draco lifted a brow at Harry’s impressive word use, but his boyfriend hurried over any possible retort with, “When we get there, you can have one of those Cornish pasties you like so much.” He sounded a bit desperate, which was good.  Apparently Draco’s heavy sighs and frowns of distaste were having the desired effect.  “Hey, look!  Balloons!”

Draco left off making a scathing comment about the revolting habits of Muggles, distracted more by Harry’s excitement than by the cluster of balloons visible over a hedge of bushes.  The tinny sounds of music came to Draco’s ears and Harry’s eyes lit up.  Draco sighed inwardly.  He would never admit it, but he did love it when Harry was happy.

“A street fair!  Let’s go, Draco, it won’t take long to see what they have.  There might be candy floss!”

Draco scowled, but allowed Harry to grab his hand and drag him forwards.  He did enjoy candy floss.  Even Muggles couldn’t fuck up spun sugar.

The “street fair” consisted of several awnings held up with rickety-looking metal bars.  They covered tables laden with arts and crafts items, jewellery, and produce.  Harry bought an apple and gave it a quick shine by rubbing it over his chest.  He handed it to Draco with a grin.  “I know you love these.”

Draco sniffed, but he took the apple, despite the fact that he had a basket full at home.  This one was particularly large and red, and looked delectable.  He walked past a stand selling fresh flowers, avoiding the Muggle vendor’s toothy grin and hopeful look.  Harry, however, could never resist a pathetic face.

“I’ll have that wreath of jonquils,” Harry said and she happily handed over a crown of flowers.  They were pale yellow with golden centres.

“What do you plan to do with—?”  Draco’s question was cut off when Harry plunked the wreath atop Draco’s head.

“There.  You look like a princess.  Um.  I mean, a prince.”  Harry coughed and looked away, obviously unable to withstand the heat of Draco’s glare.

“Are you trying to earn a hex?” Draco snapped.

Harry grinned.  “Lighten up, Draco, you are far too tense.”  He stepped closer, until Draco could feel the heat of his body.  It stole into him, wrapping around his senses as it always did, and melting the blanket of ice he tried to surround himself in.  Draco was not sure if it was Harry’s magic or some special quality of his alone, but whenever he was near Draco wanted to lean into him and surrender to whatever it was.  Now, of course, was not the time.

“Stop it.  You know how Muggles react to public displays of affection between two men.”

“I don’t care,” he said with a pout.  “I want to kiss you, o’ Prince of Summer.”

“Fuck off,” Draco said, but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips.  “You’re impossible.”

Harry smirked, knowing he had won, but he obediently stepped back a safe distance.  Draco left the stupid crown of flowers on to reward him, despite knowing he looked idiotic.  What did he care about the opinion of Muggle strangers?

Harry had got distracted again, bouncing over to a display of brightly coloured ties.  The vendor was a portly man with some sort of rat on his shoulder.  “Good day, sir!” he boomed at Harry.

“Draco, this is the exact shade of your eyes,” Harry said and held up a length of grey silk.  Draco sniffed.  It wasn’t horrible; the relentless pale grey was offset with darker stripes.  He supposed it would look nice with his charcoal robes.  He shrugged and Harry dug in a pocket for the proper Muggle payment.  “Cute hamster,” Harry told the vendor and dropped the money into his hand.

The man grinned and gave Harry his bagged purchase.  “Name’s Puff.  Tamest one I ever had.  He’ll sit on my shoulder all day.  Thank you for your purchase, kind sir.  Have a lovely day.”

“Probably an Animagus,” Draco muttered as they moved away.  “Your Animagus form would probably be a fluffy rat.”

“It would not!”

Draco snicked.  “What, then?”

Harry floundered.  “I don’t know.  Something bigger, surely.”

“An Oliphant?”

Harry smacked him on the shoulder and Draco laughed.  He nearly bumped a man carrying a black box and a stool.  Draco watched curiously as the man placed the stool on the ground and the box atop.  He pressed a button and music emanated from the device, sounding tinny even with the thumping beat.

The man stepped away from the stool and began to gyrate, moving arms and hips in time with the music, and then singing along.  Draco glanced at Harry, who watched the man with approval.  He was attractive, slender and graceful with a brilliant smile.  He reminded Draco somewhat of Blaise.

“Move along, Potter.  Dudley and Cornish pasties await, remember?”  Not that he was jealous, of course.  They did have a schedule to maintain, even though he doubted Dudley knew what a schedule was.

“Hang on,” Harry said.  “Look.”

Draco glanced back at the handsome dancer.  To his surprise, several more people had joined him, mimicking his movements.  As Draco watched, a dozen more appeared from the crowd and joined them.  The tempo increased and they all danced in time, twirling and throwing their hands into the air in unison.  It was rather impressive.

“A flashmob,” Harry said and laughed.  “Hermione told me about them.  I wish I knew the moves.  Don’t you want to join them?”

“I do not,” Draco said primly, even though the music was catchy and he nearly felt like tapping his foot in time with it.  A crowd of onlookers had gathered and many of them moved their hips and shoulders, singing along with the song.

“Dance with me,” Harry said suddenly and grabbed Draco’s hands.

Draco glared at him.  “I refuse to give in to your sudden bout of schizophrenia.”

Harry threw back his head and laughed, and suddenly Draco wanted to give in.  He wanted to dance, and kiss Harry, and wear a ridiculous crown of flowers on his head.  Clearly, the madness of Muggles was affecting him.

“Can we leave?” Draco begged, desperate to escape the insanity.

Harry sobered.  “Yeah, all right.  I’m sorry.  I know this isn’t your thing.”  He let go of Draco’s hands and moved through the crowd.  Draco felt almost guilty for the loss of Harry’s warmth and smile.  Damn it, how did he always make Draco feel like a callous lout?

As he hurried after Harry, he felt a drop of wetness on his face.  He glanced up and several more hit him.  Bloody hell, it was raining.  And they were surrounded by Muggles with no chance of casting an Umbrella Charm.

Harry picked up his pace, probably expecting a new round of complaints from Draco.  As they left the noise and the crowd behind, it began to rain in earnest.

“Potter, wait,” Draco said and halted.

Harry sighed, but stopped.  Draco approached him and waited until Harry’s eyes lifted to his, vibrant green beneath rain-splattered spectacles.  Honestly, he could not even think to cast a quiet Impervius Charm?  Draco sighed and did it for him, needing only graze the wand in his pocket with his fingers for such a simple spell.

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly.

“You’re hopeless without me,” Draco said and dragged him into a kiss.  They were still visible to Muggles passing by, but Draco did not care.  Nothing really mattered, after all, except the man leaning into him, his hands gripping Draco’s hips, and his mouth opening willingly under Draco’s assault.

Draco’s tongue dipped in to taste Harry’s sweetness, and it was better than apples, better than candy floss.  They kissed for long minutes, ignoring the rain.  Draco was lost to everything except the slide of Harry’s lips against his, and the glide of his tongue that sent familiar shockwaves rolling through Draco’s senses.  He wanted to Apparate home and remove Harry’s clothing with his teeth before making slow, sensual love to him all afternoon.

Harry pulled away at last, glasses askew, but free of droplets.  His eyes were bright and full of life and merriment; Draco felt a rush of satisfaction at having brought forth such an expression.  Draco was frequently an obnoxious prat, he could admit it, but as long as Harry looked at him in that way, he figured he wasn’t all bad.

“Schizophrenia, eh?” Harry asked.

“It must be catching,” Draco said simply.

Harry laughed and took his hand.  “I still like your crown.”

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco murmured and Harry laughed again.  Funny how those words could mean I love you.  Funnier still that Harry knew it.  Draco smiled.

.