Everything’s Done In A Sexy Silhouette

Everything’s Done In A Sexy Silhouette


Harry had met his tolerances end, for today was one enormous jumble of terrible excruciating unfortunate events after another.

It all started when Harry arrived at the Ministry, the cruel deceptive morning gave a conniving cryptic illusion of being a normal happy day with its sunshine and stupid birds singing.

First, Harry was chased down the fourth corridor of the Ministry by a loose hound, sending him straight into the catastrophic mercy of Marge.

Several things unnerved Harry, in the most atrocious way, about Marge, or Large Marge as everyone formally referred to her behind her gargantuan back; which wasn’t always the safest place to be at times. Large Marge was a huge woman, she was also mean and burley, like one of those massive Scottish bar fighters who created havoc over the littlest things in local rundown pubs such as football matches or toasters ovens.

However, ungodly as Large Marge was, it was not the sum of what terrified Harry most about her; it was the mere spine crawling fact that Large Marge was very smitten with Harry, resulting in numerous acts of sexual harassment on a daily basis.

Usually Harry was able to mercifully squirm his way out of the nauseating advances made by Large Marge, as she tried to place her massive mittens on dirty places of Harry’s person. However, it was early in the morn on a Friday at the Ministry, and the day after the Quidditch World Cup (which Harry attended, but had to be in early to finish his reports), so naturally there was virtually no one about yet.

“I knew you’d come around, Harry darling.” Large Marge purred seductively into Harry’s ear, which sounded very much like a steroid junky wrestler who just swallowed a cat and a hand full of gravel.

Harry gagged.

“I warn you Marge!” Harry said in shaken tones, backing up, and desperately attempting to claw through the cursed wall with his shoulder blades, “I’ll make those sexual harassment charges, I mean it! Notice how I used the word ‘charges’ in the plural!”

Large Marge giggled, and Harry felt very vulnerable and frightened, and in dire need of authority figures.

“Is pretty Harry trying to play hard to get?” Large Marge said, slamming both beefy hands on each side of Harry, barricading him in the realm of ‘Margy Want to Play with Harry’.
Harry didn’t care if the girlish scream, and who ever heard it throughout the near corridors, disintegrated his male integrity. He was desperate and in a hazardous situation. Any respectable man would have done it.

The second excruciating event to gloom the day, after ungallantly escaping the depraved and clammy grasp of Large Marge by kicking her in the shin, then hurtling off screaming, and feeling devastatingly unclean, Harry’s favorite quill burst, gushing ink everywhere.

At that point, Harry was too pissed off and exhausted to care wherever the blasted ink went.

He was even too enraged to use a simple cleaning spell.

A gob of ink plunked in Harry’s coffee, causing a gut ache and shortly after, diarrhea.

After running to the bathroom for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, Percy Weasley pranced in Harry’s office gracing him with his insufferableness, to present his new hound dog.

“Isn’t he precious? His name is Minister! Aren’t you the most handsome hound dog in the whole entire world, Minister? Yes you are, yes you are…” Percy said, trailing off into inane banter of irritating baby talk to the frothing beast hound from hell.

Harry considered that Minister and Large Marge could be soul mates, the way the way they looked at Harry with hungry eyes.

Harry slowly backed away as the hound growled viciously at him, and wished he’d had his wand in hand now so he could transfigure the savage mammal into a pigmy puff. Or something manlier…

“Aww, I think he likes you!” Percy screeched joyously, as Minister growled menacingly at Harry.

Half an hour later Percy pressed charges against Harry for throttling the hound on the head with a stapler when Minister pounced at him with barbaric animalistic contempt.

Harry’s good stapler was also confiscated as evidence against him for the charges.

Percy argued that Minister was just going to give Harry a friendly lick and was playfully bluffing when aiming his large K-9 fangs at Harry’s jugular.

To top off the entire day (at work) Harry had a bladder infection and had to wait two hours at St. Mungo’s for the precise potion to cure the infection straight away.

While in the waiting room, a two-year-old threw up on his new shoes; a deranged old woman, who suspiciously looked like Professor Snape in drag, slapped him; and a fat man, who smelt of fried butter and cheese puffs, hit on him, claiming he played Seeker for the Swilly Dwindle Pops.

When he finally got the potion, Harry downed it in one gulp and got the hell home.

A bird also soiled on Harry’s shoulder after exiting St. Mungo’s.

Harry stormed into the flat he and Draco shared in a foul mood, roughly shook off his cloak and angrily kicked off his shoes, sending one flying and knocking over an expensive lamp.

All he wanted to do was take a long hot shower and desperately pretend today never happened, and maybe cry a little. In private.

Before Harry could set off for the shower, Draco was in front of him like white on rice, both arms akimbo and giving Harry ‘the look’. “You’re late!” Draco spat, “Have you forgotten what day it is?”

“Believe me, I’m trying.” Harry responded lifelessly.

“You Nitwit!” Draco exclaimed, “How could you forget today is the second Friday of the month!” Draco paused for effect, but was received with a blank stare from Harry, too worn out emotionally, mentally and physically to care. Draco exasperated, “Kinky Friday! And this Friday it’s my pick!”

Harry groaned. “I’m sorry I forgot. After the obscene convictions I’ve had to endure today – believe me when I say – I’m not in the mood, Draco.”

Draco gasped, “You don’t mean that!”

“Yes,” Harry assured, “Yes I do.”

Draco huffed, “You are so selfish, Harry! What about what I want! ME! Do you ever think about that?” He bellowed, selfishly, which made Harry want to throttle him with his confiscated stapler.

“I’m sure you think about yourself more than enough for both of us!” Harry shot back.

Harry was caught by surprise when Draco began bitch slapping him around their living room.

Harry was convinced life was woefully unfair and hated him, and probably satisfied itself by picking on him for kicks, because the fight with Draco was the perfect cherry on top of a stupendously horrible day.

The fight lasted for about three hours, after Draco bit Harry they called it quits and decided matters should be dealt with in an adult manner.

A speck of promising light shone for Harry in the abyss of which was his condemned existence.

Harry shared the events of his martyred day with Draco, who responded with understanding and a hug.

The speck grew bigger.

Draco suggested a relaxing bath with aroma therapy bubbles was called for. Together.

Ha! In your face, Life! Harry exclaimed inwardly, and mentally expressed an obscene hand gesture to Life.

Draco discovered the expensive lamp Harry broke with his shoe.

“This was hand crafted Italian marble!”

Ouch. Taunting Life, not so good.

“You probably broke it when attacking me!” Harry retorted, attempting to cover himself up.

Draco didn’t buy it.

“Oh yeah, then why is your god awful shoe by the remains of what was once my beautiful lamp?!”

Harry tried to think of a lying response to get his ass off the line, but nothing came up and he knew now it was too late to try say anything at all.

Another heated argument ignited.

It lasted half an hour, and after Draco kicked him in the shin, Harry admitted he was guilty and apologied, and admitted defeat to Life and its cruel, cruel ways.

Harry was blissfully relieved when there was a make-up snog and a bubble bath.

Things were beginning to look up again, but Harry did not want to admit so incase he jinxed himself. The torments of the day, and Life, had subdued Harry to momentary superstition.

Harry slipped while getting out of the tub and twisted an ankle. This was upsetting to Draco, since he needed Harry to stand for what he had planned for the night of Kinky Friday.

But no one displeased more than Harry since he knew what Draco had planned for the night.

Instead Draco had another idea for tonight’s occasion.

Not all was lost, thankfully.

Draco sat Harry on the bed and turned the lights off, then conjured a sheer curtain between Harry and himself.

Harry was lost.

“Um, Draco?”

“Yeah?” Draco responded in sultry tones.

“You are aware I can’t see you right? I mean, all I can see is your silhouette and um…”

“And…?”

“And well, that’s just it, I can’t see you.”

Harry could see Draco’s silhouette unbuttoning his shirt.

“Has the thought crossed your mind that maybe this is apart of the kink I’ve planned for tonight?” Draco said and dropped the shirt.

Well, Draco did say ‘apart of the kink planned for tonight’ so that meant there was more, Harry figured, which was good. He couldn’t wait for the other stuff.

“Now just watch, Harry…” Draco purred.

Harry made himself comfortable.

Honestly, Harry didn’t think this was quite interesting. Well it was interesting, but it wasn’t fair, it was teasing. He wanted to see Draco strip down in the lights for him, not obscured in silhouette form. Perhaps something-

Harry’s mind stopped its musing when another silhouette figure stepped into view.

“What the hell-“ Harry began, outraged that Draco would invite another man into their bedroom, when he realized the second silhouette form was himself.

“Don’t worry, Harry, it’s just a magical illusion.” Silhouette Draco said.

Harry watched, mesmerized as his silhouette form and Draco did very detailed things together. He wasn’t sure if seeing himself, or rather his silhouette form, engaging in physical acts was anything of a turn on, but seeing Draco was amazing.

It was totally hot and there was a heated sensation in Harry’s groin and was more than ready to get physical himself. He called for Draco, but his boyfriend was apparently too immersed in what he was currently doing.

Harry began to envy and hate silhouette Harry.

Great, he was being ignored for an illusion of himself.

Harry jumped when two arms wrapped around his midriff. “Enjoying the view are we?” Draco said in silky tones, hot breath on his ear making Harry’s spine shiver.

“Oh yeah…” Harry said when Silhouette Draco did something rather suggestive.

A moan escaped him when Draco began biting his earlobe.

“I have to say, I look really good out there, don’t I?” Draco said, when his silhouette self did something he took a mental note of practicing.

“That you do.” Harry agreed. “How did you come up with the idea?”

“Well…” Draco said between kisses on Harry’s neck, “I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately and saw that all the tasteful sex scene where done in a sexy silhouette, and so I was inspired…”

“I guess we’ll be watching more movies from now on…” Harry said, capturing Draco’s mouth into a deep kiss.