Harry/Draco, fluff and domestic happiness.
Draco is watching the clouds drift by while lying on his bed. He thinks for a moment that perhaps Harry has domesticated him. But he pushes this thought from his mind. Sitting at home doing nothing is not domesticated, cooking with an apron on is domesticated. That annoying voice in the back of his mind pipes up, saying that sometimes, on a whim, Draco does that too, but Draco succinctly tells this voice to shut the hell up.
Watching the clouds is amusing, he concludes. The day is windy, and the clouds glide by quickly, and Draco watches one that is shaped like an ice cream cone until it more resembles a penis rather than a creamy, sticky delight. Though, now that he thinks about it, an ice cream cone and a penis are not all that different after all. He thinks that he should right that down, the product of that fleeting moment of epiphany, but then he feels the need for an ice cream cone, and that thought is chased away.
The bed is soft, and Draco is tired, though it's quite illogical, being as he's done near nothing all day, except for forcing Harry to eat some goddamn breakfast, he'll be worn out otherwise, in the morning just before he rushed off to some stupid meeting regarding the treatment of Muggles where everyone adopted a stuffy pretentious way of speaking, and tiptoed around each other's feelings on certain subjects, including Muggles, and thus nothing was ever accomplished. Draco often thinks that Harry has the patience of a saint to put up with these meetings week after week, but then Harry is nearly always a saint, except when he's in bed. Then, he can be a perfect devil, not that Draco's really complaining.
Draco hears the flat door open, and listens to quiet footfalls becoming gradually louder and the bedroom door creaking open.
"Hello," Harry greets Draco.
"'ello," Draco returns.
"How was your day?" Harry asks as he draws closer and drops a kiss on Draco's forehead.
Draco then thinks that damnit, he has been domesticated, sitting here and waiting for Harry to come home, and being generally very effeminate, and if there's one thing Draco Malfoy isn't, it's effeminate. Except for that time when Harry asked him to wear a schoolgirl's dress -- Shut up, he says to himself.
"Well, I did nothing all day other than think, so I am now questioning my sanity, my masculinity, and my sense of self-dignity, but other than that, I'm perfectly fine."
"Good," Harry says indulgently. Maybe he'll let Draco be on top later, just to reassure him for now that he is somewhat manly. Draco can be so strange sometimes.
End. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. |
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