Fic: Prize Pie
Nov. 18th, 2008 10:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alisanneTitle: Prize Pie
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
alisanne
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: Intent is everything.
Word Count: 1910
Genre: Erotica
Warnings: Mild hurt/comfort.
A/N: Written for this month'shd_pots_n_porn prompt: pie(s).
Beta:sevfan
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
~
Prize Pie
~
The flyer proclaimed that it was pie week at Hogwarts. “You have to do it, Harry! You have to send one to Malfoy!” Ron was clearly excited and Harry pondered the suggestion.
“Are you supposed to send pies just to people you hate?” Harry asked. “Because I don’t really hate him anymore.”
“Not always. There’s a long tradition behind pieing,” Hermione said, provoking groans from everyone at the table.
Harry held up a hand. “The short version, please?” he begged.
Hermione frowned. “It wouldn’t kill you to pick up a book, you know,” she said pointedly. “I shouldn’t tell you. I should keep my knowledge to myself.”
“We should be so lucky,” Ron muttered.
“What was that?” Hermione snapped.
“Er, we’re so lucky to have you,” Ron said, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.
Harry hid a smile. Watching his friends, who were obviously smitten with each other, spar, was amusing. “Tell me about sending pies,” he said, hoping he sounded appropriately contrite.
Hermione sniffed. “Very well, but not everything can be conveyed by word of mouth, you know.” At Harry’s nod she continued. “In the Muggle world, pieing is used as means of communicating displeasure about someone’s political beliefs or maybe a flaw, like pride or hubris.”
“See? So it’s perfect for Malfoy!” Ron said, eyes widening as Hermione glared at him. “Sorry to interrupt,” he muttered, shoving something else in his mouth.
“In the wizarding world, however,” she continued after a pause, “it can be different. Yes, it can be used to express displeasure, but it can also be used to gauge interest. If you send someone a pie and it turns out they’re interested in you, too, then the pie settles in front of them and you both share it. If they’re not interested the pie smacks them in the face.”
“So it’s all dependent on intent,” Harry said slowly as an idea came to him.
She nodded. “Yes, like most magic.”
“So are you going to do it?” Ron asked. “Are you going to pie Malfoy?”
“Maybe,” Harry said, gazing over at the Slytherin table where Malfoy was holding court. As if he sensed Harry’s regard, Malfoy looked over at him and sneered. Harry smiled. Time to implement his plan.
~
“So, are you sending me a pie, Draco?” Pansy asked, her voice overly sweet.
Draco rolled his eyes. When would she learn? This had to have been the third time she’d asked that week. Biting his tongue, he replied, “As I’ve already told you, you’ll have to wait and see.”
She tittered and Draco shuddered. “Oh, Drakey--I mean Draco, no need to pretend.”
Draco sneered. “Pretend?”
“That you don’t like me. We all know you do.”
His father had instructed him not to antagonize anyone Draco reminded himself as he looked down at the annoying bint. “We’ll see,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
As he walked away he could hear Pansy laughing and giggling behind him and he sped up. Why had he returned to Hogwarts anyway? He had to endure his house mates and watch Potter from afar, trying to make things appear normal.
Draco sighed. Everything was anything but normal. Potter had saved his life and now all Draco thought about, dreamt about, was wrapping his arms around Potter’s waist as they’d barely escaped the Fiendfyre on Potter’s broom. It was natural to have a crush on one’s rescuer, wasn’t it?
Thus distracted, Draco wandered into the Great Hall and didn’t see the cream pie approaching. It wasn’t until it was a few inches away that he noticed it and he froze. What was the pie repelling spell...?
From Harry Potter! it spelled out on the surface of the cream. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to smack him in the face, only it didn’t. He opened an eye cautiously and saw it hovering there. Then, as the realisation of what that meant hit him, Draco’s eyes widened. Could Potter possibly like him, too?
Raising a hand, Draco moved to grab the pie, but then, things went pear-shaped. A second pie, on a direct trajectory with the first, hit it and both pies careened into Draco’s face. Draco somehow managed to close his eyes in time.
As humiliation burned through him, he licked his lips automatically. Wiping his eyes with his hands, Draco began clawing cream and crust and chocolate off him. I can’t believe I actually trusted Potter. What a fool.
“Hope you liked the pie, Malfoy!” a raucous voice called.
Looking over at the Gryffindor table, Draco could see that every student there and in the rest of the hallway was convulsed with laughter. Shaking his head, he spun on his heel and made for the Prefect’s bath. There had to be a way to persuade the elves to bring him the rest of his meals in his room for the rest of the year, he decided on his way up the stairs. Anything so that he never had to look at Potter again.
~
“What the--?” Harry watched open-mouthed as a second pie flew towards Malfoy and knocked his pie into him.
Ron was laughing a bit too loudly and when he yelled at Malfoy, Harry glared at him.
“What did you do?” Harry demanded.
Ron shrugged, helping himself to some roast beef once Malfoy had fled the Great Hall. “I sent Malfoy a pie,” he said. “Looks like it was just in time, too, since yours malfunctioned.”
“It didn’t malfunction,” Harry snapped. “It did exactly what it was supposed to do.”
Ron choked. “But that means...”
“It means you are an idiot,” Hermione said, looking at Harry worriedly. “Harry, would you like me to help you find him--?”
“No.” Harry got to his feet, leaving his dinner untouched. “I’ll find him myself.” As he walked away he could already hear Hermione beginning a tirade against Ron. He almost thought Ron might have a harder time than he would. Almost.
~
Draco dropped his soiled clothes in a pile by the door, waving his wand to turn on the taps. The mermaid flipped her tail at him and he waved back. With a deep breath, he dipped a toe in, and, when satisfied, he slipped into the water, a low groan escaping when the hot water enveloped him. He ducked under and, after scrubbing his hair clean, he leaned back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes.
“I wonder if I can talk an elf into bringing me some dinner here?” he said aloud, his words echoing through the massive room.
“I imagine so,” a voice answered, making Draco’s eyes pop open. When he saw Potter he shook his head and closed his eyes once more.
“Can’t get enough of humiliating me?” he asked.
Potter sighed loudly. “I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he said. “I had nothing to do with that second pie. That was all Ron, his idea of a joke I guess.”
“Ha, ha,” Draco said. “Whatever, Potter. Well, now that you’ve said your piece you can leave.”
“Are you all right?” Potter sounded solicitous, and Draco bit his lip as tears threatened. The humiliation he’d felt was still burning a hole in his throat.
“I’m fine. Now get out of here before I send you a pie.”
“Did you see how my pie hovered in front of you?” Potter persisted, his voice coming from directly above Draco.
Draco cracked open an eye. “Yes. Was it spelled to wait for Weasley’s to arrive?”
“No. It was a pie to gauge your, um, interest in me. I was hoping we could, you know, date.”
Draco’s mouth fell open for a moment. “You...what?”
“You heard me.” Potter was shuffling back and forth, and Draco shook his head.
“You’re making me nervous hovering like that. You can...” he gulped, “...you can join me if you’d like.”
Potter froze then smiled. “That’d be, um--”
“Before it gets cold would be best,” Draco said dryly, pleased when Potter’s colour flared.
Turning away, Potter stripped and then slipped into the tub before Draco could get a good look. What Draco had seen seemed interesting and interested, however, so Draco smiled to himself and waited for Potter to make the first, blundering move.
It didn’t take long. “So, um, my pie hovered in front of you.”
Draco, eyes still closed, smiled. “It did.”
“So that means--”
“It does.” Draco sat up straight and looked squarely at Potter. “Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s great.” Potter looked down at the water. “I, um, so will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
Draco pondered this. “Maybe,” he finally drawled. “Although, I think it will save us both time if we know that we’re compatible.”
“Compat-- oh!” Potter blushed but didn’t move when Draco stood up and began to wade over to him. Deciding to be bold, Draco straddled Potter. Fortunately, Potter adjusted easily.
“This is, um, wow,” Potter managed.
Draco could only agree. Stifling a moan, he settled, licking his lips as their pricks slid together. “Yeah,” he breathed.
“I think we’re...compatible,” Potter managed, his hand settling on Draco’s hip as they rubbed together slowly.
“Mm.” Draco swallowed hard, his eyes mere slits as he moved up and down against Potter. “I actually...agree with you,” he gasped. “Hard as...that may be...to believe.”
Potter laughed breathlessly. “I’ve no problem...believing that anything is...hard right now,” he quipped, his back arching up.
Draco, his eyes now locked to Potter’s smiling mouth, leaned close. “Amusing, Potter,” he whispered, their lips close.
“Harry.”
Draco’s eyes flicked up. “What?”
“We’re, um, doing this, so I think we can call each other...by first names. Draco.”
“Harry,” Draco murmured. Their breath was mingling, lips almost touching, and Draco couldn’t for the life of him remember why calling this man Harry was bad.
Harry surged upward as Draco hesitated. Their lips met and clung. The water sloshed around them as their movements grew more frantic, until finally, Draco dragged his mouth away from Harry’s and came with a keening moan.
A moment later, Harry, his face pressed against Draco’s clavicle, came, too, his cry muffled against Draco’s wet skin.
Draco collapsed, relaxing as Harry’s arms encircled him. He caught his breath and, after a minute, raised his head, nervous about what he would see in Harry’s eyes.
As he looked up, however, he blinked. Sailing towards them was a pie. “Harry?”
“Mmm?” Harry sounded content and Draco smiled.
“I think we have a delivery.”
Harry turned his head in the direction Draco was looking. “What the--?”
The pie hovered in front of them for a moment before settling onto the tile slab surrounding the tub. Two dishes, a knife and two forks appeared. On the top of the pie some words formed. This pie should find you once you’ve resolved your differences.
“Hermione,” Harry muttered, shifting in the water.
Draco slid off Harry’s lap and reached for the pie. “I don’t care who sent it, I’m starving.”
Harry grabbed his arm. “So, Hogsmeade this weekend?”
Draco smiled. “Yes, Hogsmeade. Although, just because we were intimate tonight doesn’t mean you’ll be getting lucky then. Just so we’re clear.”
Harry chuckled. “I won’t count on it,” he promised. “But I will hope for it.”
Draco bit into his pie and smiled. Hope was not an emotion he generally subscribed to, but perhaps with Harry it would be easier to imagine.
~
Author:
alisanneRating: R
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: Intent is everything.
Word Count: 1910
Genre: Erotica
Warnings: Mild hurt/comfort.
A/N: Written for this month's
hd_pots_n_porn prompt: pie(s).Beta:
sevfanDisclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
~
Prize Pie
~
The flyer proclaimed that it was pie week at Hogwarts. “You have to do it, Harry! You have to send one to Malfoy!” Ron was clearly excited and Harry pondered the suggestion.
“Are you supposed to send pies just to people you hate?” Harry asked. “Because I don’t really hate him anymore.”
“Not always. There’s a long tradition behind pieing,” Hermione said, provoking groans from everyone at the table.
Harry held up a hand. “The short version, please?” he begged.
Hermione frowned. “It wouldn’t kill you to pick up a book, you know,” she said pointedly. “I shouldn’t tell you. I should keep my knowledge to myself.”
“We should be so lucky,” Ron muttered.
“What was that?” Hermione snapped.
“Er, we’re so lucky to have you,” Ron said, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.
Harry hid a smile. Watching his friends, who were obviously smitten with each other, spar, was amusing. “Tell me about sending pies,” he said, hoping he sounded appropriately contrite.
Hermione sniffed. “Very well, but not everything can be conveyed by word of mouth, you know.” At Harry’s nod she continued. “In the Muggle world, pieing is used as means of communicating displeasure about someone’s political beliefs or maybe a flaw, like pride or hubris.”
“See? So it’s perfect for Malfoy!” Ron said, eyes widening as Hermione glared at him. “Sorry to interrupt,” he muttered, shoving something else in his mouth.
“In the wizarding world, however,” she continued after a pause, “it can be different. Yes, it can be used to express displeasure, but it can also be used to gauge interest. If you send someone a pie and it turns out they’re interested in you, too, then the pie settles in front of them and you both share it. If they’re not interested the pie smacks them in the face.”
“So it’s all dependent on intent,” Harry said slowly as an idea came to him.
She nodded. “Yes, like most magic.”
“So are you going to do it?” Ron asked. “Are you going to pie Malfoy?”
“Maybe,” Harry said, gazing over at the Slytherin table where Malfoy was holding court. As if he sensed Harry’s regard, Malfoy looked over at him and sneered. Harry smiled. Time to implement his plan.
~
“So, are you sending me a pie, Draco?” Pansy asked, her voice overly sweet.
Draco rolled his eyes. When would she learn? This had to have been the third time she’d asked that week. Biting his tongue, he replied, “As I’ve already told you, you’ll have to wait and see.”
She tittered and Draco shuddered. “Oh, Drakey--I mean Draco, no need to pretend.”
Draco sneered. “Pretend?”
“That you don’t like me. We all know you do.”
His father had instructed him not to antagonize anyone Draco reminded himself as he looked down at the annoying bint. “We’ll see,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
As he walked away he could hear Pansy laughing and giggling behind him and he sped up. Why had he returned to Hogwarts anyway? He had to endure his house mates and watch Potter from afar, trying to make things appear normal.
Draco sighed. Everything was anything but normal. Potter had saved his life and now all Draco thought about, dreamt about, was wrapping his arms around Potter’s waist as they’d barely escaped the Fiendfyre on Potter’s broom. It was natural to have a crush on one’s rescuer, wasn’t it?
Thus distracted, Draco wandered into the Great Hall and didn’t see the cream pie approaching. It wasn’t until it was a few inches away that he noticed it and he froze. What was the pie repelling spell...?
From Harry Potter! it spelled out on the surface of the cream. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to smack him in the face, only it didn’t. He opened an eye cautiously and saw it hovering there. Then, as the realisation of what that meant hit him, Draco’s eyes widened. Could Potter possibly like him, too?
Raising a hand, Draco moved to grab the pie, but then, things went pear-shaped. A second pie, on a direct trajectory with the first, hit it and both pies careened into Draco’s face. Draco somehow managed to close his eyes in time.
As humiliation burned through him, he licked his lips automatically. Wiping his eyes with his hands, Draco began clawing cream and crust and chocolate off him. I can’t believe I actually trusted Potter. What a fool.
“Hope you liked the pie, Malfoy!” a raucous voice called.
Looking over at the Gryffindor table, Draco could see that every student there and in the rest of the hallway was convulsed with laughter. Shaking his head, he spun on his heel and made for the Prefect’s bath. There had to be a way to persuade the elves to bring him the rest of his meals in his room for the rest of the year, he decided on his way up the stairs. Anything so that he never had to look at Potter again.
~
“What the--?” Harry watched open-mouthed as a second pie flew towards Malfoy and knocked his pie into him.
Ron was laughing a bit too loudly and when he yelled at Malfoy, Harry glared at him.
“What did you do?” Harry demanded.
Ron shrugged, helping himself to some roast beef once Malfoy had fled the Great Hall. “I sent Malfoy a pie,” he said. “Looks like it was just in time, too, since yours malfunctioned.”
“It didn’t malfunction,” Harry snapped. “It did exactly what it was supposed to do.”
Ron choked. “But that means...”
“It means you are an idiot,” Hermione said, looking at Harry worriedly. “Harry, would you like me to help you find him--?”
“No.” Harry got to his feet, leaving his dinner untouched. “I’ll find him myself.” As he walked away he could already hear Hermione beginning a tirade against Ron. He almost thought Ron might have a harder time than he would. Almost.
~
Draco dropped his soiled clothes in a pile by the door, waving his wand to turn on the taps. The mermaid flipped her tail at him and he waved back. With a deep breath, he dipped a toe in, and, when satisfied, he slipped into the water, a low groan escaping when the hot water enveloped him. He ducked under and, after scrubbing his hair clean, he leaned back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes.
“I wonder if I can talk an elf into bringing me some dinner here?” he said aloud, his words echoing through the massive room.
“I imagine so,” a voice answered, making Draco’s eyes pop open. When he saw Potter he shook his head and closed his eyes once more.
“Can’t get enough of humiliating me?” he asked.
Potter sighed loudly. “I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he said. “I had nothing to do with that second pie. That was all Ron, his idea of a joke I guess.”
“Ha, ha,” Draco said. “Whatever, Potter. Well, now that you’ve said your piece you can leave.”
“Are you all right?” Potter sounded solicitous, and Draco bit his lip as tears threatened. The humiliation he’d felt was still burning a hole in his throat.
“I’m fine. Now get out of here before I send you a pie.”
“Did you see how my pie hovered in front of you?” Potter persisted, his voice coming from directly above Draco.
Draco cracked open an eye. “Yes. Was it spelled to wait for Weasley’s to arrive?”
“No. It was a pie to gauge your, um, interest in me. I was hoping we could, you know, date.”
Draco’s mouth fell open for a moment. “You...what?”
“You heard me.” Potter was shuffling back and forth, and Draco shook his head.
“You’re making me nervous hovering like that. You can...” he gulped, “...you can join me if you’d like.”
Potter froze then smiled. “That’d be, um--”
“Before it gets cold would be best,” Draco said dryly, pleased when Potter’s colour flared.
Turning away, Potter stripped and then slipped into the tub before Draco could get a good look. What Draco had seen seemed interesting and interested, however, so Draco smiled to himself and waited for Potter to make the first, blundering move.
It didn’t take long. “So, um, my pie hovered in front of you.”
Draco, eyes still closed, smiled. “It did.”
“So that means--”
“It does.” Draco sat up straight and looked squarely at Potter. “Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s great.” Potter looked down at the water. “I, um, so will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
Draco pondered this. “Maybe,” he finally drawled. “Although, I think it will save us both time if we know that we’re compatible.”
“Compat-- oh!” Potter blushed but didn’t move when Draco stood up and began to wade over to him. Deciding to be bold, Draco straddled Potter. Fortunately, Potter adjusted easily.
“This is, um, wow,” Potter managed.
Draco could only agree. Stifling a moan, he settled, licking his lips as their pricks slid together. “Yeah,” he breathed.
“I think we’re...compatible,” Potter managed, his hand settling on Draco’s hip as they rubbed together slowly.
“Mm.” Draco swallowed hard, his eyes mere slits as he moved up and down against Potter. “I actually...agree with you,” he gasped. “Hard as...that may be...to believe.”
Potter laughed breathlessly. “I’ve no problem...believing that anything is...hard right now,” he quipped, his back arching up.
Draco, his eyes now locked to Potter’s smiling mouth, leaned close. “Amusing, Potter,” he whispered, their lips close.
“Harry.”
Draco’s eyes flicked up. “What?”
“We’re, um, doing this, so I think we can call each other...by first names. Draco.”
“Harry,” Draco murmured. Their breath was mingling, lips almost touching, and Draco couldn’t for the life of him remember why calling this man Harry was bad.
Harry surged upward as Draco hesitated. Their lips met and clung. The water sloshed around them as their movements grew more frantic, until finally, Draco dragged his mouth away from Harry’s and came with a keening moan.
A moment later, Harry, his face pressed against Draco’s clavicle, came, too, his cry muffled against Draco’s wet skin.
Draco collapsed, relaxing as Harry’s arms encircled him. He caught his breath and, after a minute, raised his head, nervous about what he would see in Harry’s eyes.
As he looked up, however, he blinked. Sailing towards them was a pie. “Harry?”
“Mmm?” Harry sounded content and Draco smiled.
“I think we have a delivery.”
Harry turned his head in the direction Draco was looking. “What the--?”
The pie hovered in front of them for a moment before settling onto the tile slab surrounding the tub. Two dishes, a knife and two forks appeared. On the top of the pie some words formed. This pie should find you once you’ve resolved your differences.
“Hermione,” Harry muttered, shifting in the water.
Draco slid off Harry’s lap and reached for the pie. “I don’t care who sent it, I’m starving.”
Harry grabbed his arm. “So, Hogsmeade this weekend?”
Draco smiled. “Yes, Hogsmeade. Although, just because we were intimate tonight doesn’t mean you’ll be getting lucky then. Just so we’re clear.”
Harry chuckled. “I won’t count on it,” he promised. “But I will hope for it.”
Draco bit into his pie and smiled. Hope was not an emotion he generally subscribed to, but perhaps with Harry it would be easier to imagine.
~
