Ficlet: Eight Birthdays (Harry/Draco, R)
Jun. 1st, 2013 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
birdsofshoreTitle: Eight Birthdays
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Harry/OC, Harry/Draco
Word count: ~1100
Rating: R
Warnings: brief mention of canon child neglect
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
omi_ohmy, to wish you a very happy Birthday Week, full of love and warmth and friendship and cake and candles. And meandering. Lots of meandering ;-)
1981
Oh, the candles! See how they flicker and dance! So funny; he laughs and claps. Now there is singing! He looks from face to face, wide-eyed. Their smiles are glowing, like the candles. They give him cake; he squashes it in his fat fists and beams at his own cleverness.
Later, ahhh, warm milk in his mouth, the sweetness of it... her skin, so soft, the smell of her hair. So full, in his tummy, so good. He sleeps in her arms: warm, happy, loved.
1985
Cold, so cold, and hungry till it aches. His blanket was wet and they took it away, called him dirty. His finger runs through the dust on the shelf, tracing out a picture, a face. He remembers... something. Redness, softness. He is so empty. The face in the dust is smiling at him. He smiles back and touches his tongue gently to the rough wood, but it tastes only of dirt and damp.
1994
He has to laugh: the owl looks so funny staggering under the weight of yet another enormous cake. Chocolate fudge, with candles charmed to burst into life as soon as he opens the box, and a card from Sirius. He lets the candles almost burn down, feasting on their cheerful light, before quickly blowing them out at the last minute and putting the card next to the other ones which brighten his windowsill. He helps himself to his third slice of the cake from Ron, licking away the sticky sugar icing that clings to his lips, sighing with contentment.
The uninspiring setting of the Dursley's smallest bedroom now seems filled with warmth and good wishes. Friends, presents, magic, love. Who knew such things were even possible?
1999
The room is bursting with conversation and laughter. He grins as Molly carries in the cake, accompanied by raucous singing from all present, especially Ron, who has overdone it on the Firewhisky. The Burrow is still so homely, vibrant with life and love. Then Ginny slips her arms around his neck and he feels the cold shiver of discomfort that comes so often now when she touches him. I have to have a talk with her. But not today.
George raises his glass and shouts an over-hearty toast of celebration. If he can smile, I bloody well can, too. Harry pushes down the shuddery feeling in his stomach and takes a large bite of the cake Molly is insistently waving in front of his face.
2002
Muggle beer tastes sour and peculiar, sliding its chilly way down your throat, but it gets you drunk well enough, and all the wizarding pubs are serving it these days. People keep bringing him pint after pint, and hugging him a lot, but is he just imagining it, or is he the only one in his whole group of friends who's not paired off? Katie Bell sat beside him earlier; she smelled good and he thought of leaning in and kissing her, just to see what happened, but the moment passed, and now he can see her in a passionate clinch with some bloke in the corner.
Ginny is dancing with Dean, her hair falling around her pale shoulders like a red halo. She looks at Harry, her cheek resting on Dean's chest, and Harry makes the corners of his mouth lift up, although his head feels heavy enough to lay it down right there on the sticky table.
2005
Yves' arm is warm against his back, and the stubble on his jaw feels good as he leans in to speak quietly into Harry's ear. A charmed piano plays gently to itself in the corner, and it seems everyone appears more elegant and attractive by candlelight. The food here is delicious, too, although it's all a little fancier than he is used to.
Hermione is beautiful tonight; her hair is piled elegantly on top of her head and her face is all aglow as she asks the waiter to bring more wine. Ron is chatting with Yves about yesterday's match. Harry thinks, not for the first time, how lucky he is to have friends who accept him exactly as he is. He lets his gaze wander around the room and feels a jolt as he connects with a pair of grey eyes, familiar even after all these years. Malfoy is staring with open curiosity, and gives him a slow, sly smile which leaves Harry dry-mouthed and reaching for his glass. As he gulps sparkling wine, he feels the bubbles tingling madly in his throat, as if clamouring for release.
2007
He is close, so close, and as Draco pauses to swipe greedily at his neck, Harry shuts his eyes and lets out a whine of desperation. He has been craving this all day, watching Draco's face, the way he moves, letting desire lash his body with a sweet pain. He has been a man obsessed, waiting only for the moment they could be alone. Now, sweat beads on his brow and every muscle is tense as he teeters on the edge. Draco is moving with unbearable slowness, pulling out almost completely, leaving Harry hollow and needy, before he brings their bodies flush together again in a smooth stroke which steals Harry's breath.
Harry arches his back and croons with delight at the pleasure, the fullness; his orgasm shudders through him like a bright flame. He lies, spent, listening to his breathing returning to normal and feeling their magic flickering against his skin in the afterglow. As his body calms, Draco twines around him like a cat, and he sleeps in his arms: warm, happy, loved.
2013
The sun is slipping out of sight, leaving streaks of purple and red in its wake, and the air is finally starting to cool a little, but their guests show no signs of wanting to move inside. He watches as Draco tilts back his head to drink, his long lean frame silhouetted against the floating lanterns which decorate their garden, hair softly illuminated around his angular face. Harry moves to his side, drawn like a moth to a flame. From champagne-flavoured lips, he captures a kiss as golden as a Snitch.
There is a swell of laughter and noise, as Luna weaves her way across the grass towards them, bearing a gigantic cake in the shape of a Crumple-horned Snorkack. He can only hope it's not coconut and parsnip flavour again this year. He fills his lungs with air, and, to excitable applause, blows out all thirty-three of the candles with a concerted effort (and just the tiniest bit of magic). Draco laughs and hugs him from behind, murmuring delightful innuendo in his ear.
He has nothing to wish for; it's all right here. Friends, presents, magic, love. Who knew such things were even possible?
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Harry/OC, Harry/Draco
Word count: ~1100
Rating: R
Warnings: brief mention of canon child neglect
A/N: For
omi_ohmy, to wish you a very happy Birthday Week, full of love and warmth and friendship and cake and candles. And meandering. Lots of meandering ;-)1981
Oh, the candles! See how they flicker and dance! So funny; he laughs and claps. Now there is singing! He looks from face to face, wide-eyed. Their smiles are glowing, like the candles. They give him cake; he squashes it in his fat fists and beams at his own cleverness.
Later, ahhh, warm milk in his mouth, the sweetness of it... her skin, so soft, the smell of her hair. So full, in his tummy, so good. He sleeps in her arms: warm, happy, loved.
1985
Cold, so cold, and hungry till it aches. His blanket was wet and they took it away, called him dirty. His finger runs through the dust on the shelf, tracing out a picture, a face. He remembers... something. Redness, softness. He is so empty. The face in the dust is smiling at him. He smiles back and touches his tongue gently to the rough wood, but it tastes only of dirt and damp.
1994
He has to laugh: the owl looks so funny staggering under the weight of yet another enormous cake. Chocolate fudge, with candles charmed to burst into life as soon as he opens the box, and a card from Sirius. He lets the candles almost burn down, feasting on their cheerful light, before quickly blowing them out at the last minute and putting the card next to the other ones which brighten his windowsill. He helps himself to his third slice of the cake from Ron, licking away the sticky sugar icing that clings to his lips, sighing with contentment.
The uninspiring setting of the Dursley's smallest bedroom now seems filled with warmth and good wishes. Friends, presents, magic, love. Who knew such things were even possible?
1999
The room is bursting with conversation and laughter. He grins as Molly carries in the cake, accompanied by raucous singing from all present, especially Ron, who has overdone it on the Firewhisky. The Burrow is still so homely, vibrant with life and love. Then Ginny slips her arms around his neck and he feels the cold shiver of discomfort that comes so often now when she touches him. I have to have a talk with her. But not today.
George raises his glass and shouts an over-hearty toast of celebration. If he can smile, I bloody well can, too. Harry pushes down the shuddery feeling in his stomach and takes a large bite of the cake Molly is insistently waving in front of his face.
2002
Muggle beer tastes sour and peculiar, sliding its chilly way down your throat, but it gets you drunk well enough, and all the wizarding pubs are serving it these days. People keep bringing him pint after pint, and hugging him a lot, but is he just imagining it, or is he the only one in his whole group of friends who's not paired off? Katie Bell sat beside him earlier; she smelled good and he thought of leaning in and kissing her, just to see what happened, but the moment passed, and now he can see her in a passionate clinch with some bloke in the corner.
Ginny is dancing with Dean, her hair falling around her pale shoulders like a red halo. She looks at Harry, her cheek resting on Dean's chest, and Harry makes the corners of his mouth lift up, although his head feels heavy enough to lay it down right there on the sticky table.
2005
Yves' arm is warm against his back, and the stubble on his jaw feels good as he leans in to speak quietly into Harry's ear. A charmed piano plays gently to itself in the corner, and it seems everyone appears more elegant and attractive by candlelight. The food here is delicious, too, although it's all a little fancier than he is used to.
Hermione is beautiful tonight; her hair is piled elegantly on top of her head and her face is all aglow as she asks the waiter to bring more wine. Ron is chatting with Yves about yesterday's match. Harry thinks, not for the first time, how lucky he is to have friends who accept him exactly as he is. He lets his gaze wander around the room and feels a jolt as he connects with a pair of grey eyes, familiar even after all these years. Malfoy is staring with open curiosity, and gives him a slow, sly smile which leaves Harry dry-mouthed and reaching for his glass. As he gulps sparkling wine, he feels the bubbles tingling madly in his throat, as if clamouring for release.
2007
He is close, so close, and as Draco pauses to swipe greedily at his neck, Harry shuts his eyes and lets out a whine of desperation. He has been craving this all day, watching Draco's face, the way he moves, letting desire lash his body with a sweet pain. He has been a man obsessed, waiting only for the moment they could be alone. Now, sweat beads on his brow and every muscle is tense as he teeters on the edge. Draco is moving with unbearable slowness, pulling out almost completely, leaving Harry hollow and needy, before he brings their bodies flush together again in a smooth stroke which steals Harry's breath.
Harry arches his back and croons with delight at the pleasure, the fullness; his orgasm shudders through him like a bright flame. He lies, spent, listening to his breathing returning to normal and feeling their magic flickering against his skin in the afterglow. As his body calms, Draco twines around him like a cat, and he sleeps in his arms: warm, happy, loved.
2013
The sun is slipping out of sight, leaving streaks of purple and red in its wake, and the air is finally starting to cool a little, but their guests show no signs of wanting to move inside. He watches as Draco tilts back his head to drink, his long lean frame silhouetted against the floating lanterns which decorate their garden, hair softly illuminated around his angular face. Harry moves to his side, drawn like a moth to a flame. From champagne-flavoured lips, he captures a kiss as golden as a Snitch.
There is a swell of laughter and noise, as Luna weaves her way across the grass towards them, bearing a gigantic cake in the shape of a Crumple-horned Snorkack. He can only hope it's not coconut and parsnip flavour again this year. He fills his lungs with air, and, to excitable applause, blows out all thirty-three of the candles with a concerted effort (and just the tiniest bit of magic). Draco laughs and hugs him from behind, murmuring delightful innuendo in his ear.
He has nothing to wish for; it's all right here. Friends, presents, magic, love. Who knew such things were even possible?
no subject
Date: 2013-06-01 07:49 pm (UTC)