Drarry Oneshots (𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆)

Good Night, Sleep Tight, Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Author: FangirlWolfie

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How the heck had he ended up like this?

Draco angled his neck to the side as far as he could to try to spot anything other than black hair. Surprisingly soft black hair, but annoying none the less.

"Draco, could you just please move your elbow, it's right in my stomach."

"Well too bad Potter", the sarcasm was literally dripping from his voice. "But I can't move a fucking inch."

Draco tried to ignore the body that pressed his chest into the wall before him. Tried to ignore the hot breath against his neck and the strong arms around his chest. Tried and failed miserably.

If he'd just been fat and ugly, Draco thought gloomily. If he'd only hadn't grown up from the scrawny, messy, bowl-cut nerd into... well this.

"Can you at least stop jabbing me?!"

"Stop being so fucking sensitive, I'm trying to get out!"

"Well it's not working!"

"It's not like you're doing anything better!"

"I'm not fucking punching you at least!"

"Oh bu-hu, are you going to tell on me to mummy?"

Just as the words left Draco's mouth he wanted to punch himself, hard. It was widely known that Potter's parents had died when he was an infant. Hell even the firsties knew that tale; he was after all the most famous wizard of their time. People had known his name since he defeated Voldemort when he'd been an infant. That he last year offed the snaked bastard for good had only sealed whatever hero feat he had done as a child. Making the wire-rimmed bastard's fame take new heights and altering his status from a student to that of a God.

But he wasn't a God, no matter if his looks matched that of one.

But right now they were stuck, and Draco had all but slapped Potter in the face with his blunt comment about parents. Parents that Potter never had had. Sometimes he really painted himself into a corner with his sharp tongue, not a very Slytherin trait at all.

"Fuck Potter, sorry-" Potter had stilled behind him, his chest still pressing against Draco's back and his legs placed between Draco's slightly outstretched ones. The position would certainly look shady from an outside perspective, but then again there wasn't anyone to notice. Not when they were stuck here, inside this trapped room – Merlin knows where – with each other.

Draco felt an odd tingle when Potter moved behind him. If he'd only been fat...

"Draco", Potter interrupted his apology smoothly. "Fuck you."

"Yeah", Draco couldn't help but chuckle a little in relief. If Potter cursed him, that was well enough, that meant his comment hadn't cut too deep. "Guess I deserved that one."

"You deserve a fucking punch to the face, but right now I can't really manage."

"At least I can poke you in the ribs."

"Don't you fucking dare cut me with those elbows again. Freaking sharp as pickaxes."

"Pickaxes?"

"Muggle thing."

"Should have guessed."

Potter tried to move behind him again, hips shifting just above Draco's arse and stupid robes tangling between their bodies. The whole thing felt a bit too intimate for Draco's taste, especially since he could feel the hard strength press against him from behind. Because Potter was bloody fit. And tall. And everything Draco was not.