~*~
Draco felt a draft.
He frowned and tugged at the duvet, but it seemed to be stuck. He tugged again, but it wouldn't budge. Annoyed, he shifted under it, trying to snuggle into the warmth -- and met with something solid.
His eyes flew open. He turned his head to see a tuft of black hair sticking out from under the duvet, and the events of the evening prior flooded his mind.
There had been quite of lot of Snape's firewhiskey holiday punch involved; that he was sure of. He remembered Potter's arrival at the staff party well after midnight -- well after Draco'd had quite enough to drink -- and the subsequent unpleasantness.
Draco winced. He'd been a complete prick, hadn't he? He couldn't just leave well enough alone. He'd had to make a fool of himself, first by insulting and taunting Potter, and then, when that didn't work, by throwing himself at him shamelessly. He had a flash of cornering the man in a toilet and shoving him against the sink--
"Morning," he heard.
Draco opened his eyes again to see Potter staring right at him. "So it is," he replied. His voice hitched on the first word, to his horror.
Potter propped himself up on his elbows and made a face. "I feel like shit," he said, wincing. "What was in that punch, anyway?"
"Snape family secret, I'm told." Draco's eyes narrowed as he stared at Potter, trying to remember exactly what had happened. They were naked in bed together, which gave him quite a large hint, but he didn't remember exactly how they'd come to be in Draco's flat.
Potter frowned. "I don't suppose you've got any hangover potion around?"
Draco's head throbbed as the shock of waking up with Potter began to wear off. "Oh god," he groaned, pressing a hand to his temple.
"Never mind," Potter said, sinking back down into the pillows. "I think I deserve to suffer."
Draco sat up and fumbled for his wand, wincing at the twinge he felt in his arse. That answered that question. He managed to accio the potion from the cabinet in the bathroom, despite the fact that he could barely focus. There was only enough for one, but he split it with Potter anyway. He might be naked and hung over with his arse sore as fuck, but he was still a well-mannered host, dammit.
"Thanks," Potter sighed, stretching, relief visible on his face. "And thanks for last night. I had no idea you were so… flexible." He grinned up at Draco.
Draco blushed and looked away. "That explains the back pain."
Potter laughed and snaked a hand under the duvet to stroke Draco's thigh. He tensed a bit, uncertain. This was a horrible idea. They'd never liked each other, despite ending up in the same side years back and both working for the same department in the Ministry. Draco had neatly managed to avoid all contact with Potter for nearly a decade, against all odds.
And yet, here he was, the morning after the holiday party, completely debauched. Harry Potter's bitch, no less. What the fuck?
He caught Potter's hand and turned to him. "I don't know if I… I mean, did we really…?"
"Yes," Potter said, his lips quirking into a smile. "Three times, from what I recall." His hand slid up to grasp Draco's wrist and he tugged him back down under the duvet. "Want to do it again?"
Draco gaped at him. He had no idea how to respond. Why couldn't Potter be a good one-night-stand and just bugger off?
Before he could think of a snarky retort, Potter pulled him down into a kiss -- one that had Draco melting against his chest before he knew quite what had happened.
"You can be on top this time," Potter whispered.
Well, Draco thought, feeling his cock harden against Potter's thigh, I suppose one more time won't hurt anything.
~*~
Story Notes:
Originally posted: December 11, 2005
Note: Wriiten for Wordplay as a holiday gift. 655 words
Link: http://www.livejournal.com/users/emmagrant01/210146.html