Aquamarine Guitar

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and/or any other characters used in this fic. They are all property of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: I was bored one day so I told my friend to give me three words. She chose guitar, checkered, and plaid. This fic is dedicated to alyx anderson (on this site;)) because it is her birthday!

And, of course, thanks to my beta on this fic, Nico! :)


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"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you are about to commit the worst fashion crime ever."

Harry looked down at his clothes and frowned. He didn't think he looked that bad. Draco was just blowing things out of proportion, as usual.

Draco stood up, a disgusted look on his face as his eyes raked over Harry’s body. Harry was wearing a pair of yellow plaid pants with a bright green striped shirt. Draco could hardly believe that they even made things like that, let alone that people (Harry mainly) would buy them!

"It's fine!" Harry asserted. He had picked it out himself – one of the few things he had managed to sneak into the house without Draco noticing. Normally, Draco insisted on buying all his clothes; only brand names and designer labels. But sometimes Harry just wanted to pick something out himself.

"It is not fine, Harry," Draco drawled. "I cannot believe you bought something like that and that you would even consider wearing it to a Ministry function!"

"What?" Harry asked defensively. He still didn't see what was wrong with the outfit. He thought it looked rather dashing.

Draco, however, seemed to disagree. He was now circling Harry, his expression becoming more and more disgusted with each step. "Harry, you have got to change. I will not be seen with you like this!" he ordered.

Harry huffed and glared at Draco. "I can wear whatever I damn well please."

"Not with me, you can't!" Draco said stubbornly. "Now, go change!"

Harry glared at Draco but, in the end, gave in to his boyfriend's demands and changed his clothes to a more demure outfit, full of solid colors and boring patterns.

Later that evening found the two, reasonably well-dressed, at the entrance to a large ballroom. Harry was sulking childishly behind Draco as he was dragged toward the door.

"But I don't want to go," he whined as Draco pulled him forward.

"Well, you have to," Draco replied firmly. "Besides, you already agreed to come."

"I know," Harry said, still pouting. "But I don't want to!"

Draco just rolled his eyes and scoffed. He prodded Harry into a straighter posture and shoved him through the door. Once they were in, Harry was all smiles, pretending to be pleased as people rushed forward to shake his hand while Draco stood off to the side, greeting people politely.

They stayed at it for nearly half an hour, until Draco could tell Harry was reaching his limit. His smile had turned into more of a grimace and he winced every time he heard someone shouting his name.

Finally, Draco slid by Harry, slipping his arm around Harry's waist and smiling graciously at the adoring fans. "I'm sorry, but Harry and I really must be getting on. There’s still the auction, you know."

Draco's tone was friendly, but his eyes cool as he watched the crowd disband.

Harry sighed, rubbed his face with his hands, then ran them through his hair in frustration. "I hate these Ministry functions," he muttered, glancing around the room. Many people were still eyeing him hopefully, as though waiting for Draco to disappear so that they could pounce.

"I know, baby," Draco said soothingly, tightening his grip around Harry’s waist. He led Harry over to the bar in the corner and ordered him a strong drink. Harry didn't bother asking what it was.

About an hour later, Harry was more than ready to go home, though the evening had barely started. The Ministry function they were attending was a "charity" event, one of the events the Ministry had started since capturing the remaining Death Eaters.

Seeing as how Harry was less than willing to donate money to an organization he despised, the Ministry was forced to look for other means of support. Therefore, these new Ministry Charity Auctions had begun. Harry only went because he felt too guilty to sit back and do nothing. Draco always told him he was too nice and it would be better to just “tell those blockheads to stick it up their asses.” Sometimes Harry wished he could do that, but he was resigned to retain his manners despite his temper.

He felt a nudge in his ribs and saw that Draco was urging him to join in the bidding. Harry gave him a pouting look, but on receiving a hard glare, moved forward with Draco to look at the items up for auction.

Together, they wound their way through the rows of tables, looking at the different objects and packages available. Harry was interested in the package full of Muggle cooking items as a novelty. Draco quickly squashed that idea. That's what house-elves were for, after all.

At the end of one row, which they finally reached after blowing off several people, they came upon a guitar that stood on a pedestal. The instrument was a deep blue color with a checkered pattern across its face.

"Look at that," Harry said, awed.

Draco looked at it, an eyebrow raised in disdain. "You want that?" he drawled.

"Why not? Harry asked. He glanced around quickly to see if anyone was near, then leaned in closely and whispered in Draco's ear, "Haven't you always said you had a thing for guitarists?"

Draco gave a low chuckle, turning to Harry and wrapping his arms around his neck. "Only when they're tall, dark, handsome, and amazing in bed."

"Then it's a good thing I fit all the requirements," Harry whispered, leaning in so their lips were nearly touching.

Draco gave him a fleeting grin before pulling him into a passionate kiss. His arms tightened around Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer. He thrust his tongue inside Harry's mouth roughly, licking and tasting all he could. Harry's tongue came up to meet his own, engaging it in a seductive dance.

Harry gave a small moan as Draco's tongue lashed at his hot mouth. He wanted so much more than was possible at the moment, given that they were in a very public place.

Breathless, Harry pulled away a few moments later. He suddenly remembered where he was and pushed Draco away a tiny bit. Draco merely rolled his eyes but let his arms drop from Harry's shoulders.

Harry looked around furtively, looking to see if anyone had seen, but apparently no one had. It wasn't that Harry was afraid of being caught kissing Draco. Everyone knew they were a couple. He was just a very private person, and there was a good possibility there were reporters present. He just wanted to be cautious; he hated waking up in the mornings and being confronted with his face on the front page of the Prophet.

He reached around Draco, picked up the quill on the table, and made a bid on the guitar. When he was finished and looked up, he found Draco giving him a withering stare.

"What?"

"You actually want that thing?"

"Why not? It's cool! It would go well in our living room, don't you think? We could mount it on the wall."

Draco's expression was enough to tell Harry what he thought about guitars as wall decorations. Harry couldn't help it. He had a tendency to bring home decorations -- or clothes -- of which Draco heartily disapproved.

Instead of arguing with Harry, though, Draco just shook his head in disbelief and wandered away through the display tables.

Harry watched him go, frowning. He knew Draco was only doing it for show. He would come back eventually.

Now that Draco was gone, however, Harry had no buffer from the constant barrage of people crowding him for his autograph or to shake his hand. You would think, he thought, that since Voldemort had been defeated over two years ago, people would be less eager to meet him. He was surprised Rita Skeeter hadn't resurfaced and turned him into the delinquent she had always wanted him to be. If he was truthful with himself, sometimes he hoped she might do just that, simply to get everyone off his back. If he was seen as a miscreant, he might be able to have a normal life—or at least he would be less in-demand at parties he despised.

His silent wishes were never granted, though, and he was forced to attend trivial Ministry functions and pretend to have a good time.

Harry smiled graciously and finally shook off his admirers. Once rid of them, he slipped into the crowd, searching desperately for Draco. For a whole ten minutes, he caught no sight of the boy. He was about to give up and retreat into a far corner, safely away from his fawning audience, when he saw a flash of silver-blond hair next to a stage at the front of the room.

Harry quietly sneaked through the crowd, carefully avoiding catching anyone's eye. Slowly, he came up behind Draco and noticed that he was engaged in conversation with a handsome young man.

"... Together," Draco was saying. "He can be quite temperamental sometimes. I find it's easiest to ignore his tantrums and move on."

Harry's mouth fell open as he caught the last half of the sentence. He straightened up behind Draco and glared at him, his hands on his hips.

"I am not temperamental!" he exclaimed, and Draco turned around slowly. "If anyone has tantrums, it's you!"

Harry glared at Draco and didn't notice the man in the background trying to suppress his laughter. Draco's face was blank for a moment and then he smirked.

"I wasn't talking about you, Harry," he said simply, clearly enjoying the effect his words had had. "I was talking about Apollo."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling quite stupid. Apollo was Draco's horse and he was right; he was temperamental. "Right..."

Draco laughed, and the man behind him did too. Harry looked up and glared at the man for his impertinence. He didn't appreciate people laughing at him. Draco was a rare exception. Harry didn't even know this man. What business did he have laughing at his stupidity?

Draco must have noticed the murderous look on Harry's face because he ushered the man forward quickly, sending him a warning glance. The man quickly stopped laughing and stepped forward.

"Harry, this is Daniel Masters. He's the organizer of this event."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said stiffly, shaking the proffered hand. He sent Draco a scathing glance that told him, quite clearly, that he had no desire to be introduced to anyone else that night.

Before Daniel had a chance to reply, Draco stepped in, smiling at him. "It was nice to meet you, Daniel, but I'm sure you have things to do before you announce the winners of the auctions. Harry and I will just take another look around, shall we?"

He didn't let Daniel respond and steered Harry away from him and into the crowd. Harry was positively glowering as Draco guided him through the crowd and to the other side where it was relatively clear.

Harry remained stubbornly silent, unwilling to make any kind of scene in front of so many people. He just crossed his arms across his chest and settled on looking angry.

"Oh, Harry, don't be so dramatic," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes and receiving a cold glare in return.

"I don't want to be here, Draco," he said angrily, keeping his voice low.

Draco sighed. "I know you don't, but we all have certain obligations to honor, whether we like it or not."

"But yours don't involve millions of people clambering to shake your hand. I swear, I have to wash my hands twenty times a night."

Draco gave a small laugh and moved closer to Harry so that he could slip his arms around his waist, forcing Harry to unfold his arms and hold them limply by his sides.

"Well, it's always good to have a clean hand," Draco commented off-handedly, raising an eyebrow suggestively and smirking at him.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Draco's not-so-subtle innuendo. He lifted his arms and placed his hands casually on Draco's hips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Draco's.

"You and your dirty mind," he murmured.

Draco paused, a mischievous glint coming into his eyes. "Want to get out of here?"

"You have no idea," Harry sighed. "But we really can't, no matter how much I hate it. We have to stay at least until the auction is over."

"Who says we have to leave?" Draco asked slyly.

"Draco," Harry said warningly, glancing around them. Luckily, no one was paying them any attention. Finally! he thought.

"No, really, Harry," Draco said, his tone becoming more convincing. "We don't have to leave. We can stay here the entire time."

"Draco, no," Harry said, trying to be firm. Unfortunately, he had never quite managed to stick to his decisions. Draco always seemed to find a way to sway him.

"Come on, Harry," Draco whispered, his hands sliding lightly over Harry's back, rubbing small circles on the fabric of his shirt.

"No!" Harry warned, growing increasingly aware of the effect Draco was having on him.

He knew it was wrong and highly inappropriate to even consider what Draco was proposing while in a room full of Ministry officials and important persons. He glanced around quickly, though, seeing that most of the guests were involved in perusing the tables of available items.

He turned back to Draco, who was giving him a knowing smirk. Without saying anything, Draco grabbed Harry's hand and began tugging him discreetly through the crowd. With a quick glance around, he pulled Harry down to the floor and shoved him underneath a table covered with a silvery-blue tablecloth. The cloth fell back after them, covering the whole front of the table.

Harry turned to Draco. "Your standards have lowered."

Draco looked around and shrugged. "They’re not lower. I adjust them for the situation and I feel this is quite good enough."

Harry opened his mouth to argue but was cut off as Draco launched himself forward, knocking Harry to the ground. He captured Harry's lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue past Harry's lips and into the hot cavern beyond. His tongue massaged Harry's own, licking and tasting all it could.

Harry gave a low moan as Draco's hands skimmed down his body. Suddenly, though, Harry made a distressed noise and pushed Draco away. Draco moved back, looking annoyed at the interruption.

Harry reached back in an apologetic manner, drawing Draco close to him. "Put up a Silencing Charm, please?" he asked, giving Draco an innocent smile.

Draco heaved a sigh like it was the worst request Harry could make. He always found the sex was more fun if there was the danger of being caught. "Fine." He took out his wand and waved it at the edge of the tablecloth. When that was done, Draco wasted no time stripping off his clothes as well as Harry's.

Harry's body arched into Draco's touch as he struggled with his shirt, his hands brushing against Harry’s tanned skin. Draco finally ripped the shirt over Harry's head and didn't even bother trying to take off Harry's pants. Instead, he took out his wand and used a spell to remove them.

Harry was already hard when Draco began his assault on his lower body, running his tongue torturously over his stomach, swirling around his bellybutton, then moving farther south, nipping at his taut flesh. He bit down on Harry's hip, drawing a sharp gasp from his lover.

Harry writhed under the teasing tongue, desperate for more contact. Draco ran his tongue over the slightly red spot on his hip, soothing the angry skin.

He kissed his way up Harry's torso and chest, coming to swirl his hot tongue over Harry's erect nipples. Harry groaned, his hands finding their way into Draco's soft locks and gripping tightly. Draco's eyes drifted shut for half a second as Harry fisted his hair.

He reached Harry's neck and breathed in his scent; it was an enticing mixture of a forest and spicy cologne. Draco flicked out his tongue, barely brushing it against Harry's neck and causing him to groan. Harry shifted uncomfortably, his ever-present erection pressing against Draco's thigh.

Draco slid over Harry, bringing their mutual erections into contact, sending a wave of heat over his body. Draco rolled his hips against Harry's, grinding their pulsing erections together.

Harry groaned and threw his head back as Draco continued his infuriating rolls with his hips. "Fuck, Draco," he whined. "Please, do something."

"I love it when you beg," Draco whispered in Harry's ear, his warm breath tickling it. "It's so hot."

Harry groaned in frustration, pushing his body upward as Draco continued his teasing rolls. Draco smirked at the panting man underneath him and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Harry broke the kiss with a gasp when he felt something slick enter his body. Without his knowing, Draco had performed a silent Lubrication Spell.

Harry squirmed as he felt the intrusion in his body "Oh, shit!" he gasped when Draco pumped his fingers in harder, stretching Harry’s entrance.

Draco looked up at Harry's face, admiring his flushed complexion and how his expression was contorted in pleasure. Draco glanced sideways, noticing the fluttering cloth on the side of the table. He ignored it, though, deciding that Harry was ready.

He removed the fingers and placed the head of his already leaking cock at Harry's entrance. Bracing himself on either side of Harry, he pushed Harry's legs up and pressed his cock into his body. It was engulfed by tight, hot muscles as he pushed in deeper until he was completely sheathed within Harry.

Draco pulled out slowly then slammed in, earning him a sharp cry from Harry as his cock slid back into the willing body.

Harry's hips moved up to meet Draco eagerly as he thrust in harder and more recklessly. His entire body was engulfed with heat as he slammed into Harry's body.

Harry's body felt like it was on fire as Draco moved hard within his body, sending ripping pleasure through it. His hands that had been gripping Draco's hips tightly now left them, desperately needing to complete his own release. He reached down and grasped his own cock, rubbing furiously.

His hand was slapped away, though, as Draco ran a hand teasingly up his shaft, and then squeezed almost roughly. Harry's body jerked with the combined pressure from Draco pounding into him and his hand on his cock.

Harry could feel his climax coming over him as Draco abandoned his cock, too focused on slamming into the body underneath him. Harry gasped, arching his body upward and connecting his hips with Draco's.

Harry was on the verge of climaxing, feeling his muscles tightening when the tablecloth was thrown back and a bright flash temporarily blinded him. He couldn't help as his body tensed and the muscles clenched, causing Draco to come suddenly.

"Fuck, Harry!" Draco cursed as he shot deep inside him. Harry was far too shocked to reply; he could only stare as Draco pushed himself up, looking around and noticing the group of people crowded around the table, staring agape.

Draco sat up, reaching for his shirt and grabbing Harry's as well, throwing it in his lap. He turned to Harry, an expression of mild annoyance gracing his features. "You took off the Anti-Tracking Spell?"

After the war, Harry had removed the spell because he had thought that it wasn’t necessary anymore.

"I thought I didn't need it anymore," Harry muttered, hastily using the shirt to cover his more exposed parts.

Daniel, the event organizer, was at the front of the group. His expression was one of surprised shock. He took a step back and more people crowded in to look. Harry merely glared at them all, daring them to come any closer.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Daniel said awkwardly. "You've won the Dobro guitar. Congratulations."

Harry didn't reply to the statement, violently wishing the people would leave; he still had a little business to take care of. The position of his shirt wasn't quite enough to cover up his obvious problem.

Suddenly, a microphone was shoved under his nose, and he jerked back. "Mr. Potter, what do you have to say?"

Harry glanced over at Draco, who now wore an expression of self-satisfied amusement. "Yeah, Harry, what do you have to say?" he asked, smirking infuriatingly.

"Well, it looks like Draco will get what he always wanted." The crowd held its breath, waiting for whatever it was that was coming. "A tall, dark, handsome guitar player who is amazing in bed."

He then reached over, grabbed Draco's hand, and Apparated them out of the ballroom, leaving the party guests in amazed shock.

They spent the night relieving each other of certain “problems,” and carefully ignored the headline in the Daily Prophet the next morning that spouted some tripe about an indecent exposure at the Ministry.


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A/N: Please Review!