TEN REASONS WHY I LOVE YOU, DRACO: (from Harry's POV ~ cont...)
6. Though, as Draco's scent trailed down the hallway like a sly visitor, wrapped itself about the corner of the hall and then stole into Harry's room, as that smell curled in his nose, teasing, and overrode the thinking part of his brain with gentle ease, Harry didn't worry about Hermione's or Ron's reactions; he worried about Draco's. Would Draco find him odd, would he be freaked out, angry, worried, disgusted? Would Draco turn and run away seeing Harry here in bed, practically pitching a tent—a pillow, he'd use a pillow—drooling, whining like Draco smelled like a bitch in heat and he, Harry, was a randy hound ready for a romp. The Uninvited Guest by winnett
7. Harry stared. He couldn't help it. Malfoy wore a black shirt of some stretchy material that hugged his every curve. The letters ADIDAS were emblazoned in white across one pectoral muscle. Harry willed his gaze not to travel lower, but it disobeyed, sliding down nearly-visible abdominals to Malfoy's hips and thighs, displayed prominently -- along with a not-insubstantial package -- beneath the clinging shorts that seemed painted to his flesh. His knees and calves were bare and he wore white trainers with purple lettering. Malfoy looked surprisingly sexy in Muggle gear. Not sexy, Harry revised quickly. Passable. Just passable. Fuck. The Incredible Race by dysonrules
8. Harry gulped. He surely wasn't going to... Malfoy began to tug the fabric down over his backside. Why, anyone could walk past and see! Harry was scandalised. His eyes were almost popping out of his head with– with– outrage, that's what it was. He was certain it was outrage. Malfoy's arse was as brown as a berry, and as mouthwatering as one too, the taut, smooth skin contrasting gorgeously with the white pants as Malfoy pulled them off. His entire body looked lickable, made for touching and squeezing and kissing... The Joys of Nature by birdsofshore
9. The man belonging to the head sneezed and tossed out a chimney brush. He heaved himself up, hopped onto the roof, peeled off a heavy coat, and that was that: Harry resigned himself to looking a right fool. Because now the man was wearing nothing but a sooty pair of overalls and huge black boots; the straps of the overalls crossed over a shirtless, white, bulging pair of shoulders, which widened into biceps with a blunt color barrier –- stark white above the sleeve-line and golden brown below -– all the way down to his very toned, very veiny forearms, and then flaring out again to, what Harry could tell from this distance, were hands large enough to pick up a standard-sized cauldron by the rounded underside alone. Harry was instantly smitten. One Floo Over the Lovegood’s Nest by nattish
10. Harry catches my wrist and pulls me to him, nearly spilling my tea. "You were humming." He grins at me. "I thought it was cute."
I sniff. "Malfoys are never cute."
"The one I know is." Harry leans in and kisses me softly. When he pulls back, there's a curious look on his face. He brushes snow from my hair.
"What?" I frown at him, wrinkling my nose as he studies me. "Is there a mark--"
"I love you," Harry says in a rush, and I still. Neither of us move. Neither of us breathe.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: DRACO'S THREAD
Date: 2014-02-07 07:15 pm (UTC)(from Harry's POV ~ cont...)
6. Though, as Draco's scent trailed down the hallway like a sly visitor, wrapped itself about the corner of the hall and then stole into Harry's room, as that smell curled in his nose, teasing, and overrode the thinking part of his brain with gentle ease, Harry didn't worry about Hermione's or Ron's reactions; he worried about Draco's. Would Draco find him odd, would he be freaked out, angry, worried, disgusted? Would Draco turn and run away seeing Harry here in bed, practically pitching a tent—a pillow, he'd use a pillow—drooling, whining like Draco smelled like a bitch in heat and he, Harry, was a randy hound ready for a romp. The Uninvited Guest by
7. Harry stared. He couldn't help it. Malfoy wore a black shirt of some stretchy material that hugged his every curve. The letters ADIDAS were emblazoned in white across one pectoral muscle. Harry willed his gaze not to travel lower, but it disobeyed, sliding down nearly-visible abdominals to Malfoy's hips and thighs, displayed prominently -- along with a not-insubstantial package -- beneath the clinging shorts that seemed painted to his flesh. His knees and calves were bare and he wore white trainers with purple lettering. Malfoy looked surprisingly sexy in Muggle gear. Not sexy, Harry revised quickly. Passable. Just passable. Fuck. The Incredible Race by
8. Harry gulped. He surely wasn't going to... Malfoy began to tug the fabric down over his backside. Why, anyone could walk past and see! Harry was scandalised. His eyes were almost popping out of his head with– with– outrage, that's what it was. He was certain it was outrage. Malfoy's arse was as brown as a berry, and as mouthwatering as one too, the taut, smooth skin contrasting gorgeously with the white pants as Malfoy pulled them off. His entire body looked lickable, made for touching and squeezing and kissing... The Joys of Nature by
9. The man belonging to the head sneezed and tossed out a chimney brush. He heaved himself up, hopped onto the roof, peeled off a heavy coat, and that was that: Harry resigned himself to looking a right fool. Because now the man was wearing nothing but a sooty pair of overalls and huge black boots; the straps of the overalls crossed over a shirtless, white, bulging pair of shoulders, which widened into biceps with a blunt color barrier –- stark white above the sleeve-line and golden brown below -– all the way down to his very toned, very veiny forearms, and then flaring out again to, what Harry could tell from this distance, were hands large enough to pick up a standard-sized cauldron by the rounded underside alone.
Harry was instantly smitten. One Floo Over the Lovegood’s Nest by
10. Harry catches my wrist and pulls me to him, nearly spilling my tea. "You were humming." He grins at me. "I thought it was cute."
I sniff. "Malfoys are never cute."
"The one I know is." Harry leans in and kisses me softly. When he pulls back, there's a curious look on his face. He brushes snow from my hair.
"What?" I frown at him, wrinkling my nose as he studies me. "Is there a mark--"
"I love you," Harry says in a rush, and I still. Neither of us move. Neither of us breathe.
My heart thuds. I lick my bottom lip.
Harry's gloves are soft against my cheek. "I know it's mad," he says. "But I love you. And I have for a while." Unkissed Kisses and Songs Never Sung by