Bottom Draco One Shots !Drarry!

Prepare The Brush For Me (I'm Craving With This Need)

Draco stood back, examining every millimetre of the portrait sat before him on an easel. He was finally happy with his work.

The artist had painted Kingsley Shacklebolt in thick enchanted oils and the Minister stared back at him forcefully, his brown eyes fiery and impassioned. There was a thick roll of parchment clutched inside the politician's hand, a representation of the Elf Emancipation reforms that their leader had championed, and his robes shimmered and danced.

Draco narrowed his eyes, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand. He was rarely as pleased with one of his artworks as he was with this particular commission. As his eyes took in every facet of Shacklebolt's image Draco felt a well-known shiver of recognition coil in his belly. It was the feeling that only came when one of his portraits was nearly complete.

Draco lay down his brush and Scourgifed it with a nod of wandless magic. Draco was proud of his hard-won reputation as the most sought-after magical portrait artist in wizarding London but it had arrived only at the price of endless hours locked away in his studio. As he cast a quick Tempus Draco was astonished to see that it was already past seven.

Merlin. He was already half an hour late for his evening date with Harry.

The artist hurriedly wrapped his paints in a stasis spell and cast a protection spell on his canvas. He was just sliding his few reference photographs back into his satchel into when there was a surprise knock on his studio door.

Draco grinned, feeling the tick of his pulse pick up at the sound. It seemed that Harry, as impetuous as ever, had gotten bored of waiting and decided to come find him. Draco dived to the door and broke the Colloportus with a single swish of his wand.

Potter was stood behind it, as large as life and twice as gorgeous. The wizard wore a self-satisfied smirk on his louche, bespectacled face and he was holding what looked like a tube of oil paint in his wand-calloused fingers. When Harry saw Draco looking he shoved it deep down into his pocket.

"Mmm. You couldn't wait even another half hour Harry?" Draco asked, feeling the heat of his lover's eyes flick across his body. Draco seldom thought about his appearance when he was working, and he had no doubt that he looked a paint-splattered fright, but it seemed that Harry didn't mind. "I hadn't forgotten we were meeting," Draco said. "The time just ran away with me a little."

"It always does," Harry replied. Draco moved to the side and motioned for him to enter his studio. Harry padded over the dusty floorboards and stood in front of Shacklebolt's portrait, examining it from every angle. "I can see where the time went, though. It's bloody brilliant, Malfoy. Your best portrait yet. This'll make your name, love. The great and the good of the wizarding world will come chasing you."

Draco slid behind Harry and snaked his arms around his boyfriend's waist, sliding a cheeky hand under the hem of his tee shirt. Harry felt delicious under his fingertips, all hard muscle and silky soft skin and Draco walked the pads of his fingers over the happy trail of hair that led into Harry's jeans.

"The great and the good can chase me all they wish," Draco murmured, leaning forward to balance his head on Harry's shoulder, "but you're the only one I'd ever let catch me."

Harry liked that answer. He turned around to face Draco and without a moment hesitation kissed him soundly. Harry kissed slowly, but firmly, investigating the shape of Draco's mouth with his own.

Draco let the moment wash over him like a charm. Harry brought his hands up to gently cup the sides of his face, feasting on his lips and letting his darting, flirtatious tongue explore. Potter tasted as wonderful as always, a smidgen like the mint of a teeth cleaning charm and a little like chocolate.