Fic: Proper Slytherin Application
Nov. 3rd, 2008 01:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alisanneTitle: Proper Slytherin Application
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
alisanne
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: It's clearly time to move, but what happens when Draco and Harry find they are the ones being interviewed?
Word Count: ~3750
Genre: Humor, romance.
Warnings: Humor bordering on crack.
A/N: Written for![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-community.gif)
hd_365. *collapses* My muse gave me a run for my money with this prompt. Thanks to the mods for their understanding. ♥
Betas:eeyore9990 and sevfan.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
On LJ: Proper Slytherin Application
~
Proper Slytherin Application
~
Draco sighed as he tried to turn on the tap in the bathroom for the third time with no luck. “Utter rubbish,” he muttered beneath his breath.
He jumped as the mirror tsked at him. “You’ll hurt its feelings, dearie,” it scolded. “Taps need encouragement, too, you know.”
“It is an inanimate object,” he gritted out. “It doesn’t have feelings. And neither do you.”
The mirror huffed. “No need to be nasty about it!”
“Oh for--” But the mirror went dark, refusing to show Draco’s reflection. “Come back, I’m not being nasty!” he said, poking it with his finger.
“Have you upset the bathroom again?’ Harry asked, padding in. Draco’s ire immediately halved at the sight of his fiancé in low-slung sleep trousers, looking adorably rumpled. Oh, how he loved weekends.
“We need a less sensitive home,” he grumbled, walking over to Harry to pull him close for a quick snog. “And yes, now I’ve apparently upset the bloody tap, never mind that it never works correctly.”
As if in answer, the tap spurted some brown water before once again going silent.
Harry sniggered softly. “It can be a bit temperamental,” he agreed. “It just needs a gentle touch.” Grinning, he reached out and spun the handle. Draco’s eyes narrowed as clear water immediately began flowing.
“We need to move,” he declared.
“No skin off my nose,” the mirror said from behind him.
Draco snarled. “You are a mirror! You have no nose. In fact you have no skin!”
“You see how horrid he is to me?” the mirror said plaintively, turning dark once more.
Harry sighed and began to steer Draco out of the bathroom. “Maybe we do need to look for somewhere else to live once we’re married,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about refurbishing Grimmauld Place--”
“Absolutely not,” Draco interrupted. “I know it’s the Black ancestral home, and Mother would love it if we moved in there, but that place is horrid. Just fixing the decor alone is beyond even a professional decorator’s abilities.”
Harry chuckled. “It would take time, yes, but I bet we could make it ours.”
Draco shook his head. “That wouldn’t make it ours; that would just be me living with you in your godfather’s house.” He sighed. “We could always move into the Manor.”
“With your mother?” Harry shook his head. “How would that be us having our own place?”
“At least it’s my ancestral home,” Draco replied. “And the way things seem to be going with my mother and our boss, it’s likely we will have the place to ourselves.”
“The Manor wouldn’t really be our own place either,” Harry said. “We could always just stay here.”
Draco crossed his arms. “Not with that argumentative bathroom,” he said firmly. “And did you hear what the kitchen sink said to me yesterday?”
Harry smiled. “You must admit that you goad them,” he said.
“You cannot possibly be serious. Are you taking the side of our appliances?” Draco asked, his eyes narrowing.
“No, Draco,” Harry said. “Not at all.”
“What are you saying, then?”
Harry sighed. “I’m saying this flat is too small for us,” he murmured, nuzzling Draco’s neck.
Draco huffed and began to relax. “I thought that’s what you were saying,” he whispered, leaning his head to the side in wordless encouragement of Harry’s wandering lips.
“Mm, so I guess we’re going house-hunting,” Harry murmured.
Draco moaned as Harry licked his Adam’s apple. “All right,” he gasped, “but we can go tomorrow. Right now you have something else to take care of.”
As Harry dragged him back to bed, Draco made a mental note to contact a real estate professional as soon as possible. No sense in wasting time, he thought, and then, all thoughts of finding a new house left him as Harry successfully made him feel at home.
~
“Auror Malfoy, it’s lovely to meet you.”
Draco quickly appraised the woman in front of him. She was about his mother’s age, he guessed, and looked every inch the elegant, successful witch. She’d come very highly recommended by Pansy -- who Merlin knew had done her share of relocating -- as well as by his mother. Draco had not asked his mother why she was cavorting with estate agents. He really didn’t want to know the answer. “Mrs. Willford, I presume?”
“Call me Marigold.” She held out her hand and Draco shook it firmly.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” he said.
“Not at all,” the estate agent replied. “I understand from Pansy that your situation is delicate and you wish to move on this as soon as possible, so I’m happy to assist. How may I help you?”
“My fiancé and I wish to relocate,” Draco said. “We’re getting married in December, and we would like to have a new place by then. Our current flat is...cramped.”
Marigold nodded. “Very wise to do it now,” she said. “Often people wait until the last minute and then they end up settling for a place they don’t love, which is tragic. One should love where one lives, don’t you agree?”
“Of course,” Draco replied, although to that point, the thought of loving his home hadn’t ever occurred to him.
She smiled. “Excellent. Now, what are you and your fiancé looking for in a home?”
“Appliances that aren’t obnoxious,” Draco said dryly.
Marigold laughed. “Oh, I can tell you’re going to be a pill, Auror Malfoy. Now, have a seat and we’ll discuss details.” Ten minutes later, however, she wasn’t laughing. “You mean you have no idea of what sort of place you want?” she asked, clearly frustrated.
Draco shrugged. “Something smaller than Malfoy Manor, but larger than our current flat. Other than that, I’m not sure we care.”
Marigold jotted something down on her parchment. “So a house or a flat, either is fine? Any preferred location.”
“Close to the Ministry would be good,” Draco said. “Although, since we’d be on the Floo Network, I’m not sure that matters too much.”
“Shall I call on Mr. Potter and ask him what his preferences are as well?”
Draco shook his head. “I would like for this to be a surprise for him,” he said.
She sighed. “Very well.” Fixing her eyes on him, she shook her head. “You don’t believe in making things easy, do you?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m a Malfoy,” he replied.
She smiled. “Of course. Good day, Mr. Malfoy,” she said briskly. “I’ll contact you when I have some properties to show you.”
Draco left her office feeling so optimistic that when he got home that evening, he didn’t even pick a fight with the bathroom mirror.
~
Three days later found him standing in the centre of a flat in a much less cheerful mood, however. “This is precisely why we’re moving out of the place we live in now!” he snarled.
Marigold stared at him blankly, clearly fighting to maintain her professional demeanour. “You’re being made to move because you’ve been traumatized by all the fixtures in your current residence?” she asked, sounding bewildered.
Draco narrowed his eyes. He could feel a muscle twitching in his jaw and he clenched his teeth firmly. “You cannot be suggesting that I live in a space likely to turn on me at any moment?”
“Er, no, naturally not,” she said, blinking. “But when we arrived you did -- shall we say -- goad the residence. In fact, it’s the first thing you’ve done in every place we’ve visited.”
“What? Are you suggesting that I am the one who is traumatizing them? Did you not see that horrible fireplace attack me?” Draco glared at the offending fireplace and rubbed his arm where the hairs had been singed.
The agent shook her head. “Mr. Malfoy. Of course appliances are going to object if you berate them as a matter of course. Many fixtures are quite sensitive--”
“And I’m not? Are my feelings to be ignored?” he sniffed.
She sighed. “Surely even in Malfoy Manor the fixtures expected some respect--”
Draco drew himself up to full height. “My parents would never have tolerated insolence from appliances,” he said coolly. “Thus, I don’t see why I should have to.”
Marigold pursed her lips. “Of course. What was I thinking?”
Draco narrowed his eyes. Was she being intentionally sarcastic?
“I’ve been contemplating showing you a property, but I have been hesitant,” she continued. “It...well, it belonged to a rather difficult man, but I find myself wondering whether it would suit you.”
“Difficult?”
Marigold smiled. “He was a Slytherin with a rather peculiar sense of humour. Would you like to see it?”
Draco frowned. This house search was already taking too much time; he’d hoped to have this done by now so as to be able to present Harry with a fait accompli. “Very well,” he allowed. “I can look at one more today. But I’m not Flooing, not in that thing.” He glared once again at the offending fireplace, which belched a yellow flame at him as if in reply. Marigold bit her lip and coughed.
Draco stared at her suspiciously. Was she laughing at him?
“I suggest that we Apparate there, then,” she said, scribbling down the coordinates and handing them to him.
Draco accepted the parchment and arrived a moment after her.
His first impression of the place was of space and light. The ceilings were high, and sunlight flooded the entry which led into a spacious living area. For a moment Draco could virtually see himself and Harry curled up on their sturdy couch, entwined in each other’s arms after a bout of lovemaking. “Yes,” he murmured. “This could do.”
“Excellent,” Marigold said. “Let’s look at the rest of it, shall we?”
There were four bedrooms in all, and the master bedroom was much larger than the one in their current flat, with space for a separate sitting area and an office. The master bath was huge, the sunken marble tub bringing to Draco’s mind evenings he could spend bathing with Harry in candlelight.
The separate shower was large enough for four and it had a bench. Draco flushed, imagining what they could use that for.
“What do you think?” Marigold asked softly.
“I think we should have come here first,” Draco said. “It seems perfect.”
She smiled. “It’s difficult to believe, but we’re in the centre of London, Diagon Alley is barely a mile away, and you even have a garden out back.”
Draco shrugged. “I am not much of a gardener myself,” he admitted. “But Harry does seem to enjoy puttering about in the earth on occasion.”
She walked to a window and pointed. Draco looked out and saw a well-manicured lawn along with a white gazebo in a corner, shaded by large trees. “Nice,” he said. “What’s the catch?”
Marigold stared at him for a long moment before inclining her head. “Come with me,” she said.
They passed three other bathrooms, a formal dining room and even a library before she led him, finally, into the kitchen. As he looked around, Draco saw spotless appliances that appeared to be quite modern. Not that he knew much about cooking; he left that chore to their elf, Dipsy, or to Harry when he was in the mood to experiment, but even he could recognize that this kitchen seemed well-appointed.
“Impressive,” he said. “This seems like a nice enough kitchen. Why did you act as if there would be something wrong with it?”
“And who would you be?” a drawling voice asked from behind him.
Draco turned around, looking for the source of the question.
Marigold smiled apologetically. “The appliances here are a bit, well...more particular than others,” she said.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Particular?”
“I asked you a question!”
The question had come from the stainless steel cooker. Draco eyed it warily. “Not that I have to answer to you,” he said after a long pause, “but I am Draco Malfoy.”
“A Malfoy?” the cooker sounded impressed. “Decent enough family, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” Draco crossed his arms. “And what would you know about it?”
“Just what I tell him,” another voice said, sounding smug. “Everyone’s heard of the Malfoys.”
Draco looked over at the refrigerator, from where the new voice had emerged. “Is that so?”
“Of course,” the fridge said, somehow conveying the impression of lofty superiority. “You’d be the one that’s with Harry Potter?”
“Indeed,” Draco managed, nonplussed at being queried about his love life by an appliance. “Not that it’s any of your concern, really--”
“Well of course it is, don’t be ridiculous,” the cooker chimed in. “We’re not the sort of place to allow just anyone to purchase us. We have needs. And only the right sort would fit in here.”
“Is that so?” Draco asked, more amused than anything else. “What sort of needs do you have, then?”
“We want some excitement,” the cooker complained, sounding sulky.
“Something useful to do,” the fridge added.
“Maybe visitors,” the toaster piped up.
“Visitors?” Draco shook his head. “Beyond the staff, I take it?”
“Do you have elves?” the cooker asked.
“Naturally,” Draco replied, beginning to feel as if he were being interviewed. “Look, you said only the right sort could move in. I take it you’d make the wrong sort miserable?”
The silence was telling.
Draco sighed. “Right, so what sort are you looking for?”
“You’re a Malfoy, so you were likely in an acceptable Hogwarts house,” the fridge said.
“I was in Slytherin.”
“As we said,” the cooker chimed in. “Ravenclaw would have been all right, too.”
“Not Gryffindor?” Draco asked, amused and somewhat charmed despite himself.
“I heard Potter is one of those,” the fridge said. “I suppose that’s all right.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear that,” Draco murmured. “So, any other criteria we have to meet?”
Marigold spoke up. “Are they too much?” she asked.
Draco grinned. “Actually, they remind me a bit of my house mates in school,” he said. “I could live with this.” Would Pansy kill him if he named a refrigerator after her, he wondered?
In about twenty more minutes Draco had signed the papers Marigold had drawn up for him. With a spring in his step, he Apparated home. Harry would be so pleased!
~
“You did what?” Harry asked, looking upset. He’d just slipped his boots off and put his feet up onto the coffee table, so Draco’d decided that was the perfect time to tell him what he’d done that day. “How could you?”
Draco blinked, not having counted on this sort of reaction. “I thought you’d be happy that I made an offer on a house,” he said. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“But that’s a huge decision,” Harry said, tucking his sock-clad feet beneath his legs and turning to face Draco. “One we should have made together. Why would you exclude me from it?”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Draco replied somewhat defensively. “Look, it’s not as if we have a lot of time. That bloody fraud case Shacklebolt gave us still hasn’t been solved, plus we both have enough paperwork from other cases to bury us. Was it so wrong to try to do something nice for you?”
“That’s not the point--”
“Then what is the point?” Draco asked, beginning to get testy. “Can’t I do one thing for you without it being questioned and examined--”
Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders, pulled him close, and snogged him soundly. When they emerged from the kiss for air, Draco was panting.
“Now that you’ve done this, can we go and see it?” Harry asked, his fingers lightly playing with the short hairs at the nape of Draco’s neck.
“What, right now?” Draco asked, distracted by the shivery feelings Harry’s light touch was evoking.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry murmured, shifting onto Draco’s lap and beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I need to be sure that it’s suitable.”
“Suitable for what?” Draco gasped, his nipples pebbling as Harry ran his thumb over them.
“What do you think?” Harry murmured against Draco’s lips, hands busy. “We’ve fucked in every room of this place, on every flat surface--”
“And on some not-so-flat ones,” Draco reminded him with a smirk, shifting upwards to allow Harry to push his trousers down.
“Exactly,” Harry said, his lips now skimming Draco’s jaw. “So, I need to see what sort of potential this place has.”
“You don’t...think I’m a...good judge of that?” Draco whispered, eyes closing as Harry grasped his prick and began stroking lightly.
Harry chuckled against Draco’s neck. “What I think is that you owe me a tour of this house,” he said.
“Fine,” Draco snapped. “Let me grab my robes and--”
“No,” Harry said forcefully. “You’re going naked.”
“But it’s night and--”
“Exactly,” Harry murmured, eyes glittering with amusement. “No one will be there. You give me the naked tour, and if I like it, we take the place. If not, we cancel the contract and we choose a place together.”
“Harry--”
Harry twisted his wrist just so and Draco moaned. “Mmm?” Harry said. “Yes?”
“Fucking bastard,” Draco said, half irritated and half in awe. God how he loved it when Harry’s Slytherin side came out to play.
“You got that partly right,” Harry purred, and Draco’s cock jumped at the silky tone in Harry’s voice. Harry laughed softly. “I think that was a yes,” he said, pulling away and standing up. He extended his hand to Draco. “Coming?”
Draco growled. “I’d better be soon,” he snarled.
Harry smiled, and it made Draco shiver. “Depends on how good the tour is,” he said.
~
“...and this would make a good dining room,” Draco said, his breath hitching as Harry’s hands roamed all over him.
“Yes,” Harry whispered into Draco’s neck. “I can see that.”
“You can’t see anything,” Draco whispered, his head tipping back as Harry’s tongue traced circles against his clavicle. “It’s dark and you won’t let me put any lights on.”
“Why do we need lights?” Harry asked, his hand stroking the length of Draco’s cock agonizingly slowly. “I can feel you just fine.”
“Harry...”
“Shh.” Harry ran his thumb over Draco’s slit before sucking a bruise into his shoulder. “Is there anything else to show me?”
“Fuck...yes, this way,” Draco gasped.
Somehow they made it into the kitchen. It was dusk, and the only light in the place was moonlight streaming in through the windows.
“It has marble countertops,” Draco said, swallowing convulsively as Harry pushed him up against the centre island and insinuated his thigh between Draco’s legs. There was something about being naked while Harry was fully clothed and about to fuck him that made heat coil in Draco’s belly. “And the appliances are...oh fuck.”
“I don’t care about the bloody appliances,” Harry growled, his hand cupping Draco’s backside as he leaned against him. “All I care about is that this counter is the perfect height for me to fuck you against it.”
“Oh God.”
Harry’s finger was probing his arse. Draco closed his eyes and leaned forward as far as he could, not caring that he must have looked like an utter slut. “Please...”
“Hold on,” Harry murmured, his finger now slick. “Do you know how hot this is? How hot you are?”
“That’s enough,” Draco gasped a moment later.
“You’re not ready--”
“Yes, I bloody well am,” Draco retorted, arching back against the two fingers Harry now had inside him. “Just do it, Potter.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said, voice laced with amusement. “No need to revert to last names, Malfoy.”
“Just fuck me, Harry,” Draco said. His head was down, forehead touching the countertop, hands splayed against the cool marble. “Now, damn you.”
Harry moved in behind him, and Draco could feel the brush of Harry’s robes against his arse as he positioned himself. One thrust and he was in, pulling a moan from both their throats.
“This is--”
“One way to house hunt,” Draco finished, smiling despite himself as Harry smacked his arse lightly.
“Prat,” Harry groaned. “This should teach you to go looking for houses without me.”
“You’re...joking, right?” Draco said, words punctuated by gasps. “This is...supposed to be...punishment?”
“I admit...it may not be...entirely...effective,” Harry said, his forehead resting between Draco’s shoulder blades as he thrust faster and harder. “Oh God--”
“Yes!” Draco practically screamed as Harry hit the perfect angle. “There.”
Harry bent to his task, pounding into Draco with abandon, rocking back and forth and pummelling his prostate.
“Oh, oh, oh--” His cock untouched, Draco’s orgasm seemed to rise up from his very toes and as he began convulsing, spilling his seed onto the tile floor. Harry ground himself against Draco’s prostate, laid his arms over Draco’s, interlaced their fingers, and came a moment later, shuddering.
For about a minute all that could be heard was rasping breaths, then a voice in the dark. “Do you two like to do this a lot? If so, we’d prefer the light be on so we can see. We don’t get much entertainment.”
Draco felt Harry stiffen against his back and he smothered a laugh. “Did I mention that the appliances here have, um, certain criteria for their new owners?” he asked.
“Oh you two will do,” a voice that Draco recognized as the refrigerator’s said. “We haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. Our last owner was quite the recluse. Although, I do have some tips for next time.”
“I think you forgot to mention the voyeuristic fixtures,” Harry sighed.
Draco shrugged. “I decided that since we can’t escape them, we may as well have properly Slytherin ones.”
Harry groaned. “Why do I think I’ll be in the minority in this house?” he said as he eased off Draco and helped him up.
Because you will, Draco thought, but he didn’t say a word. Harry would discover that for himself soon enough.
~
Author:
alisanneRating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: It's clearly time to move, but what happens when Draco and Harry find they are the ones being interviewed?
Word Count: ~3750
Genre: Humor, romance.
Warnings: Humor bordering on crack.
A/N: Written for
hd_365. *collapses* My muse gave me a run for my money with this prompt. Thanks to the mods for their understanding. ♥Betas:
eeyore9990 and sevfan.Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.
On LJ: Proper Slytherin Application
~
Proper Slytherin Application
~
Draco sighed as he tried to turn on the tap in the bathroom for the third time with no luck. “Utter rubbish,” he muttered beneath his breath.
He jumped as the mirror tsked at him. “You’ll hurt its feelings, dearie,” it scolded. “Taps need encouragement, too, you know.”
“It is an inanimate object,” he gritted out. “It doesn’t have feelings. And neither do you.”
The mirror huffed. “No need to be nasty about it!”
“Oh for--” But the mirror went dark, refusing to show Draco’s reflection. “Come back, I’m not being nasty!” he said, poking it with his finger.
“Have you upset the bathroom again?’ Harry asked, padding in. Draco’s ire immediately halved at the sight of his fiancé in low-slung sleep trousers, looking adorably rumpled. Oh, how he loved weekends.
“We need a less sensitive home,” he grumbled, walking over to Harry to pull him close for a quick snog. “And yes, now I’ve apparently upset the bloody tap, never mind that it never works correctly.”
As if in answer, the tap spurted some brown water before once again going silent.
Harry sniggered softly. “It can be a bit temperamental,” he agreed. “It just needs a gentle touch.” Grinning, he reached out and spun the handle. Draco’s eyes narrowed as clear water immediately began flowing.
“We need to move,” he declared.
“No skin off my nose,” the mirror said from behind him.
Draco snarled. “You are a mirror! You have no nose. In fact you have no skin!”
“You see how horrid he is to me?” the mirror said plaintively, turning dark once more.
Harry sighed and began to steer Draco out of the bathroom. “Maybe we do need to look for somewhere else to live once we’re married,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about refurbishing Grimmauld Place--”
“Absolutely not,” Draco interrupted. “I know it’s the Black ancestral home, and Mother would love it if we moved in there, but that place is horrid. Just fixing the decor alone is beyond even a professional decorator’s abilities.”
Harry chuckled. “It would take time, yes, but I bet we could make it ours.”
Draco shook his head. “That wouldn’t make it ours; that would just be me living with you in your godfather’s house.” He sighed. “We could always move into the Manor.”
“With your mother?” Harry shook his head. “How would that be us having our own place?”
“At least it’s my ancestral home,” Draco replied. “And the way things seem to be going with my mother and our boss, it’s likely we will have the place to ourselves.”
“The Manor wouldn’t really be our own place either,” Harry said. “We could always just stay here.”
Draco crossed his arms. “Not with that argumentative bathroom,” he said firmly. “And did you hear what the kitchen sink said to me yesterday?”
Harry smiled. “You must admit that you goad them,” he said.
“You cannot possibly be serious. Are you taking the side of our appliances?” Draco asked, his eyes narrowing.
“No, Draco,” Harry said. “Not at all.”
“What are you saying, then?”
Harry sighed. “I’m saying this flat is too small for us,” he murmured, nuzzling Draco’s neck.
Draco huffed and began to relax. “I thought that’s what you were saying,” he whispered, leaning his head to the side in wordless encouragement of Harry’s wandering lips.
“Mm, so I guess we’re going house-hunting,” Harry murmured.
Draco moaned as Harry licked his Adam’s apple. “All right,” he gasped, “but we can go tomorrow. Right now you have something else to take care of.”
As Harry dragged him back to bed, Draco made a mental note to contact a real estate professional as soon as possible. No sense in wasting time, he thought, and then, all thoughts of finding a new house left him as Harry successfully made him feel at home.
~
“Auror Malfoy, it’s lovely to meet you.”
Draco quickly appraised the woman in front of him. She was about his mother’s age, he guessed, and looked every inch the elegant, successful witch. She’d come very highly recommended by Pansy -- who Merlin knew had done her share of relocating -- as well as by his mother. Draco had not asked his mother why she was cavorting with estate agents. He really didn’t want to know the answer. “Mrs. Willford, I presume?”
“Call me Marigold.” She held out her hand and Draco shook it firmly.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” he said.
“Not at all,” the estate agent replied. “I understand from Pansy that your situation is delicate and you wish to move on this as soon as possible, so I’m happy to assist. How may I help you?”
“My fiancé and I wish to relocate,” Draco said. “We’re getting married in December, and we would like to have a new place by then. Our current flat is...cramped.”
Marigold nodded. “Very wise to do it now,” she said. “Often people wait until the last minute and then they end up settling for a place they don’t love, which is tragic. One should love where one lives, don’t you agree?”
“Of course,” Draco replied, although to that point, the thought of loving his home hadn’t ever occurred to him.
She smiled. “Excellent. Now, what are you and your fiancé looking for in a home?”
“Appliances that aren’t obnoxious,” Draco said dryly.
Marigold laughed. “Oh, I can tell you’re going to be a pill, Auror Malfoy. Now, have a seat and we’ll discuss details.” Ten minutes later, however, she wasn’t laughing. “You mean you have no idea of what sort of place you want?” she asked, clearly frustrated.
Draco shrugged. “Something smaller than Malfoy Manor, but larger than our current flat. Other than that, I’m not sure we care.”
Marigold jotted something down on her parchment. “So a house or a flat, either is fine? Any preferred location.”
“Close to the Ministry would be good,” Draco said. “Although, since we’d be on the Floo Network, I’m not sure that matters too much.”
“Shall I call on Mr. Potter and ask him what his preferences are as well?”
Draco shook his head. “I would like for this to be a surprise for him,” he said.
She sighed. “Very well.” Fixing her eyes on him, she shook her head. “You don’t believe in making things easy, do you?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m a Malfoy,” he replied.
She smiled. “Of course. Good day, Mr. Malfoy,” she said briskly. “I’ll contact you when I have some properties to show you.”
Draco left her office feeling so optimistic that when he got home that evening, he didn’t even pick a fight with the bathroom mirror.
~
Three days later found him standing in the centre of a flat in a much less cheerful mood, however. “This is precisely why we’re moving out of the place we live in now!” he snarled.
Marigold stared at him blankly, clearly fighting to maintain her professional demeanour. “You’re being made to move because you’ve been traumatized by all the fixtures in your current residence?” she asked, sounding bewildered.
Draco narrowed his eyes. He could feel a muscle twitching in his jaw and he clenched his teeth firmly. “You cannot be suggesting that I live in a space likely to turn on me at any moment?”
“Er, no, naturally not,” she said, blinking. “But when we arrived you did -- shall we say -- goad the residence. In fact, it’s the first thing you’ve done in every place we’ve visited.”
“What? Are you suggesting that I am the one who is traumatizing them? Did you not see that horrible fireplace attack me?” Draco glared at the offending fireplace and rubbed his arm where the hairs had been singed.
The agent shook her head. “Mr. Malfoy. Of course appliances are going to object if you berate them as a matter of course. Many fixtures are quite sensitive--”
“And I’m not? Are my feelings to be ignored?” he sniffed.
She sighed. “Surely even in Malfoy Manor the fixtures expected some respect--”
Draco drew himself up to full height. “My parents would never have tolerated insolence from appliances,” he said coolly. “Thus, I don’t see why I should have to.”
Marigold pursed her lips. “Of course. What was I thinking?”
Draco narrowed his eyes. Was she being intentionally sarcastic?
“I’ve been contemplating showing you a property, but I have been hesitant,” she continued. “It...well, it belonged to a rather difficult man, but I find myself wondering whether it would suit you.”
“Difficult?”
Marigold smiled. “He was a Slytherin with a rather peculiar sense of humour. Would you like to see it?”
Draco frowned. This house search was already taking too much time; he’d hoped to have this done by now so as to be able to present Harry with a fait accompli. “Very well,” he allowed. “I can look at one more today. But I’m not Flooing, not in that thing.” He glared once again at the offending fireplace, which belched a yellow flame at him as if in reply. Marigold bit her lip and coughed.
Draco stared at her suspiciously. Was she laughing at him?
“I suggest that we Apparate there, then,” she said, scribbling down the coordinates and handing them to him.
Draco accepted the parchment and arrived a moment after her.
His first impression of the place was of space and light. The ceilings were high, and sunlight flooded the entry which led into a spacious living area. For a moment Draco could virtually see himself and Harry curled up on their sturdy couch, entwined in each other’s arms after a bout of lovemaking. “Yes,” he murmured. “This could do.”
“Excellent,” Marigold said. “Let’s look at the rest of it, shall we?”
There were four bedrooms in all, and the master bedroom was much larger than the one in their current flat, with space for a separate sitting area and an office. The master bath was huge, the sunken marble tub bringing to Draco’s mind evenings he could spend bathing with Harry in candlelight.
The separate shower was large enough for four and it had a bench. Draco flushed, imagining what they could use that for.
“What do you think?” Marigold asked softly.
“I think we should have come here first,” Draco said. “It seems perfect.”
She smiled. “It’s difficult to believe, but we’re in the centre of London, Diagon Alley is barely a mile away, and you even have a garden out back.”
Draco shrugged. “I am not much of a gardener myself,” he admitted. “But Harry does seem to enjoy puttering about in the earth on occasion.”
She walked to a window and pointed. Draco looked out and saw a well-manicured lawn along with a white gazebo in a corner, shaded by large trees. “Nice,” he said. “What’s the catch?”
Marigold stared at him for a long moment before inclining her head. “Come with me,” she said.
They passed three other bathrooms, a formal dining room and even a library before she led him, finally, into the kitchen. As he looked around, Draco saw spotless appliances that appeared to be quite modern. Not that he knew much about cooking; he left that chore to their elf, Dipsy, or to Harry when he was in the mood to experiment, but even he could recognize that this kitchen seemed well-appointed.
“Impressive,” he said. “This seems like a nice enough kitchen. Why did you act as if there would be something wrong with it?”
“And who would you be?” a drawling voice asked from behind him.
Draco turned around, looking for the source of the question.
Marigold smiled apologetically. “The appliances here are a bit, well...more particular than others,” she said.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Particular?”
“I asked you a question!”
The question had come from the stainless steel cooker. Draco eyed it warily. “Not that I have to answer to you,” he said after a long pause, “but I am Draco Malfoy.”
“A Malfoy?” the cooker sounded impressed. “Decent enough family, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” Draco crossed his arms. “And what would you know about it?”
“Just what I tell him,” another voice said, sounding smug. “Everyone’s heard of the Malfoys.”
Draco looked over at the refrigerator, from where the new voice had emerged. “Is that so?”
“Of course,” the fridge said, somehow conveying the impression of lofty superiority. “You’d be the one that’s with Harry Potter?”
“Indeed,” Draco managed, nonplussed at being queried about his love life by an appliance. “Not that it’s any of your concern, really--”
“Well of course it is, don’t be ridiculous,” the cooker chimed in. “We’re not the sort of place to allow just anyone to purchase us. We have needs. And only the right sort would fit in here.”
“Is that so?” Draco asked, more amused than anything else. “What sort of needs do you have, then?”
“We want some excitement,” the cooker complained, sounding sulky.
“Something useful to do,” the fridge added.
“Maybe visitors,” the toaster piped up.
“Visitors?” Draco shook his head. “Beyond the staff, I take it?”
“Do you have elves?” the cooker asked.
“Naturally,” Draco replied, beginning to feel as if he were being interviewed. “Look, you said only the right sort could move in. I take it you’d make the wrong sort miserable?”
The silence was telling.
Draco sighed. “Right, so what sort are you looking for?”
“You’re a Malfoy, so you were likely in an acceptable Hogwarts house,” the fridge said.
“I was in Slytherin.”
“As we said,” the cooker chimed in. “Ravenclaw would have been all right, too.”
“Not Gryffindor?” Draco asked, amused and somewhat charmed despite himself.
“I heard Potter is one of those,” the fridge said. “I suppose that’s all right.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear that,” Draco murmured. “So, any other criteria we have to meet?”
Marigold spoke up. “Are they too much?” she asked.
Draco grinned. “Actually, they remind me a bit of my house mates in school,” he said. “I could live with this.” Would Pansy kill him if he named a refrigerator after her, he wondered?
In about twenty more minutes Draco had signed the papers Marigold had drawn up for him. With a spring in his step, he Apparated home. Harry would be so pleased!
~
“You did what?” Harry asked, looking upset. He’d just slipped his boots off and put his feet up onto the coffee table, so Draco’d decided that was the perfect time to tell him what he’d done that day. “How could you?”
Draco blinked, not having counted on this sort of reaction. “I thought you’d be happy that I made an offer on a house,” he said. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“But that’s a huge decision,” Harry said, tucking his sock-clad feet beneath his legs and turning to face Draco. “One we should have made together. Why would you exclude me from it?”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Draco replied somewhat defensively. “Look, it’s not as if we have a lot of time. That bloody fraud case Shacklebolt gave us still hasn’t been solved, plus we both have enough paperwork from other cases to bury us. Was it so wrong to try to do something nice for you?”
“That’s not the point--”
“Then what is the point?” Draco asked, beginning to get testy. “Can’t I do one thing for you without it being questioned and examined--”
Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders, pulled him close, and snogged him soundly. When they emerged from the kiss for air, Draco was panting.
“Now that you’ve done this, can we go and see it?” Harry asked, his fingers lightly playing with the short hairs at the nape of Draco’s neck.
“What, right now?” Draco asked, distracted by the shivery feelings Harry’s light touch was evoking.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry murmured, shifting onto Draco’s lap and beginning to unbutton his shirt. “I need to be sure that it’s suitable.”
“Suitable for what?” Draco gasped, his nipples pebbling as Harry ran his thumb over them.
“What do you think?” Harry murmured against Draco’s lips, hands busy. “We’ve fucked in every room of this place, on every flat surface--”
“And on some not-so-flat ones,” Draco reminded him with a smirk, shifting upwards to allow Harry to push his trousers down.
“Exactly,” Harry said, his lips now skimming Draco’s jaw. “So, I need to see what sort of potential this place has.”
“You don’t...think I’m a...good judge of that?” Draco whispered, eyes closing as Harry grasped his prick and began stroking lightly.
Harry chuckled against Draco’s neck. “What I think is that you owe me a tour of this house,” he said.
“Fine,” Draco snapped. “Let me grab my robes and--”
“No,” Harry said forcefully. “You’re going naked.”
“But it’s night and--”
“Exactly,” Harry murmured, eyes glittering with amusement. “No one will be there. You give me the naked tour, and if I like it, we take the place. If not, we cancel the contract and we choose a place together.”
“Harry--”
Harry twisted his wrist just so and Draco moaned. “Mmm?” Harry said. “Yes?”
“Fucking bastard,” Draco said, half irritated and half in awe. God how he loved it when Harry’s Slytherin side came out to play.
“You got that partly right,” Harry purred, and Draco’s cock jumped at the silky tone in Harry’s voice. Harry laughed softly. “I think that was a yes,” he said, pulling away and standing up. He extended his hand to Draco. “Coming?”
Draco growled. “I’d better be soon,” he snarled.
Harry smiled, and it made Draco shiver. “Depends on how good the tour is,” he said.
~
“...and this would make a good dining room,” Draco said, his breath hitching as Harry’s hands roamed all over him.
“Yes,” Harry whispered into Draco’s neck. “I can see that.”
“You can’t see anything,” Draco whispered, his head tipping back as Harry’s tongue traced circles against his clavicle. “It’s dark and you won’t let me put any lights on.”
“Why do we need lights?” Harry asked, his hand stroking the length of Draco’s cock agonizingly slowly. “I can feel you just fine.”
“Harry...”
“Shh.” Harry ran his thumb over Draco’s slit before sucking a bruise into his shoulder. “Is there anything else to show me?”
“Fuck...yes, this way,” Draco gasped.
Somehow they made it into the kitchen. It was dusk, and the only light in the place was moonlight streaming in through the windows.
“It has marble countertops,” Draco said, swallowing convulsively as Harry pushed him up against the centre island and insinuated his thigh between Draco’s legs. There was something about being naked while Harry was fully clothed and about to fuck him that made heat coil in Draco’s belly. “And the appliances are...oh fuck.”
“I don’t care about the bloody appliances,” Harry growled, his hand cupping Draco’s backside as he leaned against him. “All I care about is that this counter is the perfect height for me to fuck you against it.”
“Oh God.”
Harry’s finger was probing his arse. Draco closed his eyes and leaned forward as far as he could, not caring that he must have looked like an utter slut. “Please...”
“Hold on,” Harry murmured, his finger now slick. “Do you know how hot this is? How hot you are?”
“That’s enough,” Draco gasped a moment later.
“You’re not ready--”
“Yes, I bloody well am,” Draco retorted, arching back against the two fingers Harry now had inside him. “Just do it, Potter.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said, voice laced with amusement. “No need to revert to last names, Malfoy.”
“Just fuck me, Harry,” Draco said. His head was down, forehead touching the countertop, hands splayed against the cool marble. “Now, damn you.”
Harry moved in behind him, and Draco could feel the brush of Harry’s robes against his arse as he positioned himself. One thrust and he was in, pulling a moan from both their throats.
“This is--”
“One way to house hunt,” Draco finished, smiling despite himself as Harry smacked his arse lightly.
“Prat,” Harry groaned. “This should teach you to go looking for houses without me.”
“You’re...joking, right?” Draco said, words punctuated by gasps. “This is...supposed to be...punishment?”
“I admit...it may not be...entirely...effective,” Harry said, his forehead resting between Draco’s shoulder blades as he thrust faster and harder. “Oh God--”
“Yes!” Draco practically screamed as Harry hit the perfect angle. “There.”
Harry bent to his task, pounding into Draco with abandon, rocking back and forth and pummelling his prostate.
“Oh, oh, oh--” His cock untouched, Draco’s orgasm seemed to rise up from his very toes and as he began convulsing, spilling his seed onto the tile floor. Harry ground himself against Draco’s prostate, laid his arms over Draco’s, interlaced their fingers, and came a moment later, shuddering.
For about a minute all that could be heard was rasping breaths, then a voice in the dark. “Do you two like to do this a lot? If so, we’d prefer the light be on so we can see. We don’t get much entertainment.”
Draco felt Harry stiffen against his back and he smothered a laugh. “Did I mention that the appliances here have, um, certain criteria for their new owners?” he asked.
“Oh you two will do,” a voice that Draco recognized as the refrigerator’s said. “We haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. Our last owner was quite the recluse. Although, I do have some tips for next time.”
“I think you forgot to mention the voyeuristic fixtures,” Harry sighed.
Draco shrugged. “I decided that since we can’t escape them, we may as well have properly Slytherin ones.”
Harry groaned. “Why do I think I’ll be in the minority in this house?” he said as he eased off Draco and helped him up.
Because you will, Draco thought, but he didn’t say a word. Harry would discover that for himself soon enough.
~
