Seducing Draco Malfoy

Chapter 1

The first time Harry Potter appeared on his doorstep, Draco was only slightly miffed. He had things to do; he had no time for Potter. Draco had bought himself some ice cream and pulled down the blinds, lit the fire in the fireplace, sat on his favourite sofa and bemoaned his solitude and his pitiful existence. It had all been carefully planned. Written down on his schedule and everything. Afterwards he meant to wank. Possibly try out that new dildo he had acquired. Maybe. If he felt like it.

But now, all of his plans were ruined because Harry Potter wanted to discuss paperwork. Bloody wank-blocking wanker. Potter should have at least brought some wine with him, and maybe some dinner. And Draco had told Potter as much. Not that Draco wanted to hang out with Potter. Please. But they were co-workers, fellow Aurors, and Draco had learned to tolerate the man. Potter could have come here and they could have tolerated each other the whole night. That wouldn't be a problem. But bringing work to his flat when Draco had other things to do was just cruel.

Potter looked apologetic, but it didn't seem like he had any plans to leave. So that was how they ended up on Draco's sofa, the one Draco should have been wanking on, and stared at reports for which Potter insisted Draco had to see. Or else.

Draco had looked and looked, and complained and whined, feeling painfully claustrophobic because Potter kept giving him papers and then leaned in to read them. As though the only way he could possibly read something was if Draco held it for him. Strange, lazy git.

Potter's messy hair was constantly under Draco's nose, looking fuzzy and annoying. And just for the record, Draco had never wanted to know that said hair smelled like pine trees. Or that it felt like silk.

Not that Draco knew how Potter's hair felt like, but it looked silky. Okay, so maybe Draco touched it once. Or twice. Accidentally. To move Potter's head away, of course. Which negated the it-was-accidental claim, obviously. But it wasn't like Draco had an ulterior motive. He just had that one obvious motive.

"Um, yes?" Potter asked.

Draco quickly pulled his hand away; hand that was inexplicably buried in the silky, pine tree-scented hair.

Draco cleared his throat. "There was a ... bug in your hair. Big one. I killed it."

Potter looked at Draco's hand. "And then you ate it?"

Draco blinked. "No, I threw it away." He waved his hand vaguely around. "Far away.'

Potter bit his lip and nodded. "Well, thank you. I guess I owe you one." Potter's eyes twinkled.

He must have been drunk.

"You do," Draco agreed quickly, and then he grabbed the stack of papers and shoved them into Potter's hands. "You can go and finish this for me. Alone. Elsewhere."

Potter's face fell, but he nodded and soon enough, he had left, looking very much like a kicked puppy.

But Draco hardly cared. He had never liked puppies. Kicking them was in his job description as an ex-evildoer.

When he was left alone, Draco had his scheduled wank.

And he ate the ice cream.

And he used the dildo.