What's in a Name?
Apr. 10th, 2009 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
firethesoundTitle: What's in a Name?
Disclaimer: This is being written for purely entertainment purposes, not for profit. These characters belong to J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Warnings: EWE. Very fluffy warm and fuzzy. One-shot.
Summary: Some of the potions they'd given him made his brain feel fuzzy and slow, but even in his foggy state he realized the significance of his surname. Draco hadn't called him "Potter" in years. That's how Harry knew just how angry his lover was.
"Potter, you idiot."
Harry blinked up at Draco. Some of the potions they'd given him made his brain feel fuzzy and slow, but even in his foggy state he realized the significance of his surname. Draco hadn't called him "Potter" in years. That's how Harry knew just how angry his lover was.
Justifiably angry, Harry admitted to himself a moment later. He'd taken a stupid risk and nearly gotten himself killed. He'd be staying in St. Mungo's for a few more days, at the very least. Draco must be terrified, if his pallid skin and the shimmery wetness hiding in the corners of his eyes was any indication. He didn't deal with fear very well. Thus, anger.
"You know I have no issue with your being an Auror, running about and trying to save the world one person at a time. It's just who you are," Draco said, quieter, his voice tight and tense. Harry could tell he wanted to scream. "But when you decide to stow your brain up your arse while galavanting about playing the invincible fucking hero, Potter-"
There it was again.
Harry's stomach did a funny little twist at hearing his surname spat from between Draco's lips, which were still moving, he realized, talking, but he'd stopped listening. Draco hadn't called him "Potter" like that since Hogwarts. At first he'd been so thrilled at the novelty of hearing "Harry" purred, sighed, whined or gasped in Draco's voice that he hadn't even realized he missed the "Potter" at all. No one could say "Potter" quite like Draco could, the first syllable practically exploding from his mouth with the force of the emotion behind it, the second syllable crisply enunciated but gentler, almost an afterthought. No one else could pack so much meaning into just those two simple syllables. In Hogwarts they'd been laden with venom and jealousy and, Harry finally understood years later, passion. The passion was still there now, along with anger and, yes, fear.
Hearing it again snapped Harry out of his musings.
"-Potter, are you even listening to me?"
"Not really, no," Harry said with a silly grin.
Draco frowned uncertainly. "How much potions did they give you?" he demanded after a few seconds of silence. "Because when I'm lecturing you on your stupidity you shouldn't be looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're in love."
Harry smiled up at Draco. "Well, I am."
Draco sighed. "Harry, you idiot."
"You were calling me Potter before."
One of Draco's eyebrows rose. "What of it?"
"You haven't called me that since Hogwarts."
"I suppose I haven't." Draco seemed unsure.
"I like it." Harry knew his smile was dopey, but he couldn't help it.
"Definitely the potions, then," Draco muttered to himself. "And why is that?"
"Cause. No one can say it the way you can." The room was feeling warm all of a sudden, and his eyes felt so heavy. "Like you love me and hate me and want to shag me senseless all at once."
"I don't hate you, Harry," Draco said softly.
A tremendous yawn forced Harry's jaws so far open that he thought his head might split in two. Draco wouldn't like that, his head in two pieces, so he snapped his mouth shut, cutting off the yarn prematurely. The room was suddenly dark, and it took Harry a moment to realize that his eyes had shut. Opening them again seemed like such a bother.
"Not anymore, but you used to." He turned his head to where he thought Draco was and tried another smile.
"Years ago," Draco agreed, his voice low and fond, not angry anymore. "It's been a long time since then."
"Mm-hm." Even those two little sounds took so much effort to make. Harry let his head loll to the side.
"Potter, what am I to do with you?"
Draco hadn't spat his surname this time, but Harry still enjoyed the way he said it. There was a soft sigh, and a rustle of movement, then the edge of the bed dipped under a new weight.
He barely felt a warm pair of lips brush against his forehead, or the voice that murmured in his ear, "Rest up now, love, you need it."
Asleep, he must be asleep. Draco only called him "love" when he thought Harry couldn't hear. All cold and proper Malfoy on the outside, but Draco, his Draco, here and keeping him safe. A tiny smile tugged at one corner of Harry's mouth, and he let himself go.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
End
Disclaimer: This is being written for purely entertainment purposes, not for profit. These characters belong to J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Warnings: EWE. Very fluffy warm and fuzzy. One-shot.
Summary: Some of the potions they'd given him made his brain feel fuzzy and slow, but even in his foggy state he realized the significance of his surname. Draco hadn't called him "Potter" in years. That's how Harry knew just how angry his lover was.
"Potter, you idiot."
Harry blinked up at Draco. Some of the potions they'd given him made his brain feel fuzzy and slow, but even in his foggy state he realized the significance of his surname. Draco hadn't called him "Potter" in years. That's how Harry knew just how angry his lover was.
Justifiably angry, Harry admitted to himself a moment later. He'd taken a stupid risk and nearly gotten himself killed. He'd be staying in St. Mungo's for a few more days, at the very least. Draco must be terrified, if his pallid skin and the shimmery wetness hiding in the corners of his eyes was any indication. He didn't deal with fear very well. Thus, anger.
"You know I have no issue with your being an Auror, running about and trying to save the world one person at a time. It's just who you are," Draco said, quieter, his voice tight and tense. Harry could tell he wanted to scream. "But when you decide to stow your brain up your arse while galavanting about playing the invincible fucking hero, Potter-"
There it was again.
Harry's stomach did a funny little twist at hearing his surname spat from between Draco's lips, which were still moving, he realized, talking, but he'd stopped listening. Draco hadn't called him "Potter" like that since Hogwarts. At first he'd been so thrilled at the novelty of hearing "Harry" purred, sighed, whined or gasped in Draco's voice that he hadn't even realized he missed the "Potter" at all. No one could say "Potter" quite like Draco could, the first syllable practically exploding from his mouth with the force of the emotion behind it, the second syllable crisply enunciated but gentler, almost an afterthought. No one else could pack so much meaning into just those two simple syllables. In Hogwarts they'd been laden with venom and jealousy and, Harry finally understood years later, passion. The passion was still there now, along with anger and, yes, fear.
Hearing it again snapped Harry out of his musings.
"-Potter, are you even listening to me?"
"Not really, no," Harry said with a silly grin.
Draco frowned uncertainly. "How much potions did they give you?" he demanded after a few seconds of silence. "Because when I'm lecturing you on your stupidity you shouldn't be looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're in love."
Harry smiled up at Draco. "Well, I am."
Draco sighed. "Harry, you idiot."
"You were calling me Potter before."
One of Draco's eyebrows rose. "What of it?"
"You haven't called me that since Hogwarts."
"I suppose I haven't." Draco seemed unsure.
"I like it." Harry knew his smile was dopey, but he couldn't help it.
"Definitely the potions, then," Draco muttered to himself. "And why is that?"
"Cause. No one can say it the way you can." The room was feeling warm all of a sudden, and his eyes felt so heavy. "Like you love me and hate me and want to shag me senseless all at once."
"I don't hate you, Harry," Draco said softly.
A tremendous yawn forced Harry's jaws so far open that he thought his head might split in two. Draco wouldn't like that, his head in two pieces, so he snapped his mouth shut, cutting off the yarn prematurely. The room was suddenly dark, and it took Harry a moment to realize that his eyes had shut. Opening them again seemed like such a bother.
"Not anymore, but you used to." He turned his head to where he thought Draco was and tried another smile.
"Years ago," Draco agreed, his voice low and fond, not angry anymore. "It's been a long time since then."
"Mm-hm." Even those two little sounds took so much effort to make. Harry let his head loll to the side.
"Potter, what am I to do with you?"
Draco hadn't spat his surname this time, but Harry still enjoyed the way he said it. There was a soft sigh, and a rustle of movement, then the edge of the bed dipped under a new weight.
He barely felt a warm pair of lips brush against his forehead, or the voice that murmured in his ear, "Rest up now, love, you need it."
Asleep, he must be asleep. Draco only called him "love" when he thought Harry couldn't hear. All cold and proper Malfoy on the outside, but Draco, his Draco, here and keeping him safe. A tiny smile tugged at one corner of Harry's mouth, and he let himself go.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
End
no subject
Date: 2009-04-12 08:08 pm (UTC)