Title: In Which There Are Boys And A Shower
Rating: PG-13 for nudity
Warnings: To warn you would be to ruin the story. Duh.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Or vu network. Or this here nickel.
Summary: Draco comes home from a job early to surprise Harry and ends up getting a surprise of his own.
Note: Dedicated to not_draconis for being brilliant and to rons_on_fire who is anything but unloved. And also queen_salazar just because she always brightens my day. :D Also un-beta’d and a bit on the short side. And of no relevance to the game.
Draco Malfoy was quite the crafty devil. Or so he liked to tell himself.
Especially now, as he Apparated into the flat he shared with his boyfriend, Harry Potter. He’d been in conferences in Rome all week and Potter wasn’t expecting him back until next Tuesday. In a true show of skill and capability, Draco had managed to tie up the loose ends much earlier than he’d planned so that he could come home and surprise Potter, maybe leading to a nice round of shagging on the god-awful coffee table Potter had bought.
Harry Potter was quite the oblivious prat.
This much was evident by the lack of surprise and subsequent doting. In fact, Potter didn’t seem to be around to receive Draco at all.
Draco was about to commence sulking when he heard the quiet sounds of the shower running and brightened again. Shower shagging was every bit as good in his book.
He left his shoes by the door and discarded his robe, placing it neatly on the coat rack. It was a direct contrast to Potter’s, which had been flung haphazardly over the top of the thing. Cleanliness was not Potter’s forte.
His clothes were shed during the short trip to the bathroom and by the time he stepped in and silently slipped the door shut behind him, he was in naught but the snake boxers Potter had bought for him. Draco had sworn up and down that he’d never be caught dead in them, but Potter had just looked so bloody sad about it that he secretly wore them when he went on trips, not that he would ever admit it. He got rid of those, too, and climbed into the shower with only the slightest movement of the curtain.
Underneath the spray of water, and completely, totally, and alarmingly naked, was Ronald Weasley.
Draco screamed—the high-pitched and girly one that Potter loved to poke fun at—and stumbled back until he was as far away from Weasley as the shower would allow.
Weasley spun around, catching sight of Draco barearsed, and screamed as well, copying his actions on the other side of the tub. The spray of water dropped between them as they stared at one another, wide-eyed and panicked.
“What the bloody hell are you doing inside my shower, Weasel?!”
“What the bloody hell are you doing inside the shower, Malfoy?!”
“Er,” a new voice said as the shower curtains opened to reveal a very perplexed Potter. “What are the two of you doing inside the shower? Together?”
Draco scrambled out of the tub, grabbing the only towel on the rack and wrapping it around his midsection. Sufficiently covered, he glowered at Harry with enough hate to resurrect Voldemort. “What is that doing here, Potter?” he asked coldly, jabbing a finger in Weasley’s direction.
Potter at least had the decency to look guilty. “…taking a shower?”
Draco’s glare intensified.
“You were right, Harry,” Weasley said as he turned off the shower and grabbed Draco’s embroidered robe. “He does scream like a girl.”
“Ron, that’s—” But before Potter could finish, Draco had a wand in hand and was pointing it under Weasley’s throat.
“Out.” He snarled, ignoring Potter as he patted down his pockets in search of the wand that Draco had just stolen from him. “And I would suggest you place that robe back in the exact spot you saw it, Weasley, although I might still have to burn it to get your stench off.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to leave starkers,” Weasley began nervously, meeting Draco’s eyes and smirking. “Unless you like looking.”
Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, cutting him off in time for Weasley to disapparate. Draco seethed silently for a moment or two, but otherwise did not try to resist. The instant Potter’s guard was down…
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he heard Potter say in that moronic, stuttering tone of his. “And you’re wrong. Ron and I weren’t—I mean, I get bored being here all by myself and we just got back from a mission this morning. We were dirty. He needed a shower.”
“How many times has Weasley been in our flat in my absence, Potter?” Draco asked calmly.
“Oh. Er. He… not… er…”
“I see,” he shifted in Harry’s grip, but it was still too tight for him to move without a struggle. “As a fair warning, I’m probably going to kill you the very instant you release me.”
“You could do that,” Harry agreed, sounding a bit distracted for someone who was about to see his life end even after surviving a maniacal egomaniac with a god complex and a dead baby fetish. “Or you could tell me why you’re home so early and then we could shag. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but your towel’s been on the floor for the last two minutes and I’ve been randy for the last three.”
Ten minutes later, Harry found himself naked, horny, and tied to his bed with a boyfriend who had decided that watching telly was far more important than shagging him.