:: :: :: :: ::
Harry Potter slid down into his seat, one hand on his forehead and the other grasping for his drink. His fingers weren't cooperating, though, and the glass kept slipping out of his grasp.
"Can't. Slippery."
Seamus's face appeared before him, looming rather large. "Whassa matter, Potter? Need another drink?"
"Yesh. One of these, but less… pink." Harry waved a hand in the direction of his glass. "And less slippery. Can't fuckin' pick it up."
Seamus disappeared, and Harry pushed himself up a bit in the chair. The bar was crowded with people, all of whose faces blurred together. Every now and then, someone would stop by and pat him on the shoulder or offer to buy him a birthday drink. Of course, that was what had got him in this condition tonight.
"Harry!" someone shouted in his ear. Harry winced. The person sat down across from him, grinning. It might have been Zacharias Smith, though it also could be that bloke from the records office at the Ministry. Harry was terrible at putting names to faces when he was sober. When he was piss-drunk, it was next to impossible.
"Heeeyyy," he said, attempting a wave. "Howz it goin'?"
"Just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. Say, can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure. Why not?"
Maybe-Zacharias gave him an affectionate shoulder punch and headed toward the bar, disappearing into the blur of the pub.
Trying to pick out individual faces from the crowd made his head spin, so Harry focused on the drink in front of him instead. He reached for it, and this time managed to wrap his fingers around it. He slid it across the table carefully, raising it to his lips just as Seamus returned with another one.
"So, how's it feel to be thirty, Potter?" Seamus pushed the glass toward Harry and picked up his own pint of lager.
"I dunno." Harry managed to sling back the drink in his hand with only a few drips on his shirt. He reached for the new one. "You've been thirty for longer'n me."
"True. And I got even drunker than you, mate."
"M' fairly drunk now, y'know."
Seamus laughed. Or possibly shouted something. Harry wasn't sure which.
Ron joined them at some point, and several more people bought him drinks, and Harry basically lost any sense of time. He'd probably regret this tomorrow -- hell, maybe even the day after that too -- but at the moment, it wasn't so bad. He liked being drunk. He felt fluffy. It was nice.
And he had to piss.
He pushed himself to standing, and paused to wait for the world to stop swirling around him. Ron and Seamus offered to help him, but he waved them off with a hand. He could certainly make it to the toilet and back without assistance. Probably.
It was definitely a challenge, as the floor wouldn't quite stay still beneath his feet. And his legs felt weird, which didn't help. Everything had gone fuzzy around the edges, and when he turned his head, it took a second for everything to catch up. He turned his head a few times, just to make sure he wasn't imagining that part.
Shit. Maybe he was drunker than he'd thought.
He pushed open the door of the toilet and made his way to the urinal on the far wall. He had to press his forehead against the grimy tile in order to keep his balance, and he was sure he'd just pissed on his shoes, but he managed.
He felt like he could just stand here and piss continually, actually. Maybe he'd just wait a moment. Save himself a trip back. He would later reflect that standing in the men's room in a bar leaning against a wall with his prick hanging out of his jeans was probably not the best idea in the world.
It could have been two minutes later, or it could have been an hour before there was a strangely familiar voice in his ear: "Potter?"
Harry turned his head. There was a hazy face floating in front of his eyes, and it took a moment for it to come into focus. "Malfoy?"
"You're pissed, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Harry replied with a happy smile. "Blind."
Malfoy stared at him, as if dumbfounded. "All right. Well… do you… need any help?"
"No," Harry replied, pushing off the wall and turning to face him.
"You planning to put that thing away before you go back out?" Malfoy said, glancing down at Harry's exposed bits.
Harry looked down. "Oh. Heh. Nah. Probably not."
Malfoy blinked at him, and then shook his head. "Whatever. Happy Birthday." He turned to leave.
"Wait," Harry said. "You know iss my birthday?"
"In this place tonight, it's kind of hard to miss."
Harry stepped toward him, and slipped in what was probably his own piss on the floor. He found himself caught in Malfoy's arms, with a very startled-looking Malfoy staring down at him. He grinned.
"Do I get my birthday kiss now?"
Malfoy's eyes widened. "What?"
"Birthday kiss," Harry repeated. "You know. I'm the birthday boy. You get to kiss me."
"I get to kiss you?" Malfoy repeated. But he didn't let Harry go. Instead, he glanced towards the door. "Here in the toilet?"
"Sure. Or out there. Whatever." Harry wasn't sure why he'd never thought of kissing Malfoy before. Probably because he didn't see him very much. Their paths at the Ministry crossed every now and then. But suddenly, the idea of Malfoy kissing him seemed quite brilliant. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Oh -- because he hated Malfoy. Always had. He grabbed a fistful of Malfoy's shirt and smiled at him. "I don't hate you."
Malfoy's expression was calculating. "How drunk are you?"
"Verrrry drunk."
"You probably won't remember this tomorrow, will you?"
"Nope."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed a bit. "How about I do better than a kiss?"
"Blow job?" Harry offered, hopefully.
A strange smile crept over Malfoy's face. He pushed Harry up and dragged him over to the door of the toilet, propping him up against it. "Stay right there. Don't move."
"M'kay," Harry replied, and closed his eyes. Bad move. He opened them again just as he hit the floor. "Sorry," he mumbled as Malfoy hauled him to his feet again.
"Maybe you should stop drinking."
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "Yeah."
"Oh, no," Malfoy said, eyes wide. "Don't you dare."
And then Harry vomited all over Draco Malfoy.
:: :: :: :: ::
"Harry?"
Harry opened his eyes. He was in his flat, in his own bed. And he had no memory of how he got here.
Ron came into view, holding a steaming mug. "Hangover potion. You're going to need it."
Harry sat up, wincing. His head was pounding, and he felt like he might be sick again. "I'm not sure I can keep it down."
"I've got more, if you can't."
Harry took the mug and forced the potion down. "Blech. Why can't they make it taste better?"
Ron just smiled and took the empty mug.
Ten minutes later, Harry felt much better. He staggered into the living room of his flat, wearing only his boxers, and headed for the cupboard. He poured himself a cup of tea from the pot Ron had made, and sat next to him on the sofa.
Ron looked up from the morning show he was watching on the television. "Better?"
Harry scratched his head. "How did I get home last night?"
"Seamus and I brought you. You were wasted."
"Clearly. Did I… did you find me in the toilet?"
Ron blinked. "No. You were just sitting at the table with us, and you passed out. We figured that was the end of the night."
"Ah." Harry took a sip of his tea. The last thing he remembered was throwing up on Malfoy in the toilet, after -- Harry winced -- asking him for a blow job. And unless he'd hallucinated, Malfoy had seemed interested in giving him one. "So I didn't say anything about what happened in the toilet?"
"Too much information, mate," Ron said, slapping Harry on the knee. "I have to get going, actually. I just wanted to stay here until you were up and about."
"Thanks," Harry said.
"Happy Birthday."
Harry sighed. "Yeah."
Well, either he'd had sex with Draco Malfoy in a toilet, or he hadn't. Either way, he'd made a prick of himself. With any luck, it would be his next birthday before he ran into Malfoy again.
:: :: :: :: ::
As luck would have it, he walked into a meeting first thing Monday morning to see Malfoy sitting at the table.
Harry felt his cheeks flush, and he carefully avoided Malfoy's gaze as he sat in the only available empty seat -- right next to him. Malfoy didn't acknowledge him, for which Harry was grateful, and after a few uncomfortable moments, Harry began to relax. The meeting was mercifully short, and Harry dashed out of the room the moment it was over, heading straight to the men's washroom.
He splashed cold water on his face and sighed. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, and he was acting like a teenager. Whatever had happened between them was in the past, and there was nothing he could do about it now. The best course of action would be to go and talk to Malfoy about it, to make it clear that it had just been a drunk thing. Right.
He turned to the door just as it opened -- and Malfoy walked in.
Malfoy leaned back against the door and smirked. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Yeah," Harry said, willing himself not to blush. "Funny, that."
"You were fairly pissed the other night. Feeling better?"
"Yeah. About that--"
"I know it was just a one-off thing," Malfoy said. "It didn't mean anything."
"Okay," Harry said, quickly losing the battle with his cheeks. "Right. I knew that."
Malfoy shrugged. "If you want to do it again sometime, preferably sober, you know where to find me." And with that, he turned and left the washroom.
Harry stood frozen to the spot for a solid minute. He's had sex with Malfoy. And he didn't remember it. He turned to stare at his reflection in the mirror. "Oh god."
:: :: :: :: ::
Every day for the next week, Harry kept running into Malfoy at the office, which was very odd. For five years he'd managed to see him only a handful of times, and suddenly Malfoy was everywhere Harry went. He was in half of Harry's meetings; he was walking down the corridor in the opposite direction; he was on the lift at lunchtime. Had he been around this much before and Harry simply hadn't noticed?
Of course, it didn't help that his mind was trying very hard to remember what had happened between them in that toilet on his birthday. Or rather, his mind was exploring quite a few colorful possibilities, each more explicit and perverted than the last.
And somehow, he happened to be thinking of one of them every time he ran into Malfoy, which caused him to stammer like an idiot and then run the other direction. Eventually, Malfoy started to smirk when he saw Harry coming, and that only made it worse.
Harry spent Friday in his office with the door closed, and only went out again after he was sure everyone else had gone home.
:: :: :: :: ::
"You sure you don't want a drink?" Seamus asked, jerking his thumb toward the bar.
Harry shook his head. "Never drinking again, remember?"
Ron laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Give him another week. He'll come around."
Harry shuddered. "I tell you, I'm done drinking."
"Yeah, sure," Ron said, sitting back in his chair. "Say, are you all right?"
Harry blinked. "Yes. Of course. Why?"
Ron shrugged. "It's just that… you've been a little weird since your birthday."
"Weird? I'm not being weird. Weird how?
Ron raised an eyebrow before continuing. "I dunno, just not yourself. I thought maybe you were depressed about turning thirty or something."
"I'm not depressed." Though he might as well be now. Even his friends had noticed something was up.
They sat in silence until Seamus came back with a round of drinks. He'd got Harry water, but Harry was nearly floating as it was. He'd been resisting going to the toilet, since he figured that would only make him think about what might have happened between him and Malfoy in a toilet a week ago. And shit, now he'd gone and thought about it anyway.
He sighed. "I've gotta piss. I'll be back."
The toilet was empty, which was a relief. Harry was in and out in a matter of minutes, naughty thoughts kept to a minimum, and headed back to the table.
And stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting where he'd just been, chatting with Ron and Seamus, was Malfoy. Harry drew closer, hoping to catch Ron's eye, but Ron didn't get the hint.
"Harry!" he called, waving his arms.
Harry rolled his eyes and walked over, giving Malfoy a tense smile.
"Did I tell you Malfoy got transferred into my division?"
"No," Harry replied, his smile becoming forced. "You didn't." That explained a lot.
"I told him we were going out for drinks if he wanted to stop by."
Harry just barely managed to keep the expression of shock off of his face. When had Ron become friendly with Malfoy? Harry started to wonder if he'd been passed out for several years instead of hours.
Maybe it was a good time to start drinking again after all.
:: :: :: :: ::
A solid month of Friday nights went by, and Malfoy became part of their group as if they'd never hexed each other blind back in school. Harry got over the shock of it, though it still took a few pints for him to really feel comfortable with the arrangement. He saw a lot more of Malfoy at work too, and though he still wondered what had happened, he stopped obsessing about it.
Except at night, when he'd lay awake with one hand wrapped around his cock and images of Malfoy sucking him off filling his head. And as time passed, Harry began to wonder why he didn't just ask Malfoy out. They spent quite a lot of time together anyway, and it wasn't like they'd have to be boyfriends or anything. He wasn't sure he was ready to deal with a relationship. But maybe they could go home together every now and then, just for fun. Malfoy had seemed open to the idea once. And it wasn't like they hadn't done it before.
And he was desperate to know exactly what they'd done before.
So one Friday night in December, after a several hours of drinking pints and listening to Seamus's endless stream of dirty jokes, he worked up the nerve to say something. Malfoy excused himself to the toilet, and Harry waited two minutes and followed.
He walked in just as Malfoy was about to walk out. He leaned back against the door, the beer buzz giving him confidence.
Malfoy folded his arms over his chest. "Took you long enough."
Harry grinned. "I guess that means you're still interested?"
"I didn't think you were -- you've all but avoided me since your birthday."
"Sorry. I am."
Malfoy stepped forward and planted his hands on either side of Harry's head on the door. "You aren't going to get sick on me again, are you? Kinda kills the mood."
Harry winced. "Sorry about that too."
Malfoy opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but then he stopped. He leaned forward, and after what seemed like an eternity, Harry felt Malfoy's lips brush against his. The kiss was soft and sweet, and completely unlike what Harry had been expecting. Malfoy's tongue slid against his own, and his lips moved over Harry's with a gentleness that made Harry want to stand there forever, just feeling.
The door moved behind him as someone pushed on it, and they broke apart. Draco winked at Harry as the newcomer walked between them, and he left the toilet. Harry stayed behind to collect himself. He was going to do this. He was really going to have sex with Malfoy. Again, apparently.
Malfoy was in the middle of telling a story about some witch who'd run him off her property the week before when Harry returned. It was strangely difficult to keep his mind on the conversation -- all he wanted to think about was what would happen later. But he managed to work the location of his flat into the conversation at some point, with a pointed look at Malfoy. And when Ron yawned, Harry was the first to say he was ready to call it a night. He bid goodbye to everyone and headed out to the alley to apparate home.
He spent a frantic five minutes straightening up the place, shoving dirty laundry into the hamper and quickly making up the bed, then casting quick cleaning spells on the dirty dishes in the sink. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when there was a knock at the door. He banished the toothpaste with a quick spell, ran a hand through his hair, and went to open it.
Malfoy handed him a bottle of wine and shrugged at Harry's blank expression. "My mother said you should bring a gift the first time you visited someone's home. I thought some sort of alcohol would be appropriate."
"Thanks," Harry said. "Erm…come in."
He went to dig up glasses, and Malfoy sat on the sofa, which had been covered with newspapers and dirty laundry four minutes earlier. He opened the wine and poured Malfoy a glass.
They sat on the sofa together for a moment, silent. Harry wasn't sure how to start. He'd had people over before, of course, but there was usually far less awkwardness involved.
Finally, he downed the entire glass of wine and turned to face Malfoy. "I've been thinking about this quite a lot."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Have you?"
"Ever since my birthday, I've… well, I was pretty drunk. And then there was the vomiting thing. I figured I should make it up to you."
"Oh, really?" Malfoy grinned. "And how do you plan to do that?"
Harry leaned forward enough to slide a hand around the back of Malfoy's head, and pulled him into a kiss. It was different from the one Malfoy had given him earlier -- far less tentative. Malfoy melted into it, and Harry pushed him back against the cushions of the sofa.
"Wine," Malfoy said, turning out of the kiss.
Harry allowed him to set his glass on the coffee table, and then reached for the fly of Malfoy's trousers. He glanced up to see that the expression on Malfoy's face was one of surprise. Harry tugged the zip down and freed his erection, and then gave Malfoy a quick grin before ducking down and swallowing his cock.
Malfoy groaned above him, and Harry felt himself harden at the sound. He sucked hard and fast -- they had all night, after all -- swirling his tongue as best he could. He wrapped his fingers around the base and added strokes in time with the motion of his mouth. He felt Malfoy's hands on the back of his head, not pushing, just encouraging.
It didn't take long -- a minute later, Malfoy tugged Harry's hair in warning, and then he came, sounding as if he'd clenched his jaw in a failed effort to keep quiet. Harry swallowed and sat up, feeling rather proud of himself. It had been a while since he'd given a proper blow job, but it was something he'd always thought himself good at. That was quick enough to be a personal record.
Malfoy's eyes were glazed, and his still-hard cock was leaking a bit of semen that Harry hadn't managed to catch. He looked up.
"Wow."
Harry grinned. "Thanks."
Malfoy sat up a bit. "I didn't think you'd be so good at that. I mean -- I didn't think you'd done that before."
"I didn't do it in the bathroom?" Harry paused, trying to decide how much to reveal. "The details of that night are a bit fuzzy, to be honest."
"Yeah," Malfoy said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "So… what exactly do you remember about that night?"
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. "Well… I mean… I remember throwing up on you."
"Yeah, me too. And then what?"
"And then…" Harry pressed his lips together. "Actually, that's it. I have no idea what happened after that."
Malfoy stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. "Nothing happened."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Nothing. You puked. I cleaned us up. And after that, I wasn't really in the mood for anything else, and you… well, you were lucky you could still walk. You left the bathroom, and that was it."
Harry gaped at him. "But you said… you let me think… What the hell?"
"I was a prick, I know," Malfoy said. "But it was kind of funny at the time. You were completely mortified. I didn't think you'd actually be interested in me."
"I am," Harry said, before he had a chance to stop himself. "I mean... All this time, I thought we'd had sex that night. And I've thought about it a lot."
"Really?"
Harry snorted. "A lot. I can't believe you let me think--"
"I'm sorry," Malfoy said, pressing his hands over his face. After a pause, he dropped them again and looked up. "Actually, no -- I'm not. If it got you thinking about it, I'm not sorry at all." He sat up and cupped Harry's cheek with his hand. "If you're interested, I'd like to give this a shot. Whatever you want: just tonight, or every now and then, or… whatever. At the very least, I owe you a blow job, right?"
Harry stared at him for a moment. Malfoy looked uncomfortable, but he also looked earnest. He meant what he was saying -- he really was interested. Harry wasn't sure what he wanted, but he knew he wanted something. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes and let his lips twist into a smile. "Yes, you do owe me a blow job. And it's about six weeks overdue, if I recall correctly."
"So that's a yes?"
"Yes. You can suck me off."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but he grinned. "I suppose I can accept that." He slid to his knees on the floor and reached for the fly of Harry's jeans.
Harry let his thighs fall apart, and he smiled. "And the other thing -- that sounds good too. But maybe we can take it one day at a time?"
"All right," Malfoy replied, smiling back. His fingers closed around Harry's cock, and Harry closed his eyes.
Malfoy didn't talk again for quite a while.
:: :: :: :: ::
~ fin ~
Story Notes:
Originally posted: December 29, 2006
This is a bit of fun fluff I whipped up for silentauror for her birthday.
Links: My LJ | The Quidditch Pitch | Skyehawke