Catch 22 (Harry/Draco)

Epilogue: Royal Flush

This was originally written as a response to the "Less is More" challenge years and years ago... I wrote it to fit the Catch 22 universe because it just fit so well. Blaise' POV.

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Blaise is beginning to think that this whole thing is extremely unfair.

He's unaware he's even holding his breath until his lungs scream in panic, shouting obscenities at his hormones for putting his life in unnecessary danger. Blaise likes to think he values his life, but right now his brain is in rapt agreement with his hormones, and is prepared to serve as barrister if his lungs decide to press charges.

Blaise thinks his brain has the trial cinched, because what he is witnessing will serve as one hell of a defence.

Draco's hands have always been elegant; long-fingered, manicured, most likely moisturised daily; even the way they move as they unfasten the red and gold silk from around Harry's collar is sublime; fingertips gentle but firm, never applying too much pressure, never too little, as they take their time in loosening and untangling the knot. It's a movement cultivated to perfection by years of training to become a patrician, and Draco slips the tie from Harry's neck with an unsettling amount of inertia, letting the fabric linger as it slides across the thin white fabric of his shirt.

Harry notices the touch, but his reaction is subtle; his eyelids drop slightly as his eyes flicker down, a small hint of a knowing smile appearing leisurely on his lips as Draco slides the strip of fabric down and away. They are sitting opposite Blaise on Draco's bed, Blaise lying on his stomach facing them, Harry with his legs crossed, and Draco perched sideways on the bed just behind him, one leg tucked underneath him and the other hanging carelessly off the edge. Draco rests his chin on Harry's shoulder, tossing the tie between them to join the ever-growing pot beside the deck and looking up to meet Blaise's eyes.

'Your turn to deal,' Draco says.

Blaise gathers the cards, shuffles, cuts and deals. Five-card draw, as usual, something that Harry is having trouble wrapping his poorly-socialised Gryffindor mind around, never having played poker before. Blaise still cannot believe that Harry Potter, epitome of all things Gryffindor, has agreed not only to play strip poker, but to do so with an audience. It's almost as hard to believe as the fact that Draco Malfoy, disciple of the self-serving Slytherin agenda, is willing to share a peek of what he gets his hands on every night.

Harry picks up his cards, and Draco's eyes leave Blaise's to peer at his hand. He smirks. Blaise shuffles through his own cards, and resists the urge to do so himself. Diamond flush. Not too shabby, considering he hasn't modified his hand. Coins are tossed onto the pile; all Galleons, of course, for even in the face of destitution due to being cut out of his father's will, Draco absolutely refuses to gamble like a derelict. Good thing Harry has the entire Black family fortune to his name, Blaise thinks, because these games tend to get expensive. Blaise doesn't care; if he bankrupts his mother, she'll just marry another unfortunate (but wealthy) schmuck and shortly thereafter end up a dowager again.

Blaise raises Harry's two Galleons to four. Draco raises his eyebrows, and whispers something into Harry's ear. Harry's eyes, half closed behind his glasses, glance sideways at him, and Draco smirks again and nods. Harry shrugs, and calls the raise. Draco's uncharacteristically good at calling bluffs in this game, and Blaise knows this, but his hand isn't bad. So he leaves the bet as it is and drops his hand on the duvet.

Harry follows suit. Blaise frowns; full house. Bastards.

Blaise sighs and sits up, dutifully unbuttoning the first few holes of his shirt, and then pulls it over his head. He tosses it in the pile, and sits on his knees. Harry's eyes are open now, curious and unabashed as they rake over the naked torso before them. Blaise is rather proud of his figure, his looks in general even, for like Draco he's a progeny of pure-blooded good breeding, shaped by teenage hyperactivity, Quidditch, and exotic background to boot.