Boxing Kangaroos
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,398
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,398
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Boxing Kangaroos
A/N: I’m not sure where this story is going, this is all I’ve done so far, but there WILL be more (only 1 or 2 more chaps, I think); I’ll probs post the next chapter tomorrow. More warnings to come. Hang in there! Thanks!
M.
HDHDHD
“Draco! Hurry the hell up! We’re already twenty minutes late!” Harry called up the stairs, “there’s fashionably late, and then there’s just-plain-rude late and the line between the two is amazingly thin.” The brunet slumped back into the black leather couch and heard a series of heavy thumps and some rather expressive cursing.
“You alright up there, or do I have to come and save you from yourself?” Harry called, sounding sarcastic, but secretly worried about his blonde lover.
Harry heard a deep growl from upstairs expressing the blonde’s anger. “Just shut the hell up, Potter! Some of us take pride in our appearances and beauty takes time!” Draco yelled back. Harry thought he heard “and pain” tacked on the end, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Well your beauty has taken the best part of the last three hours! Can we please just leave, your mother already hates me, and it won’t please her any more if we’re late to her drinks!” Harry whined as the blonde descended the stairs.
Harry’s jaw dropped, Draco was stood in front of him, a tall, lithe, blonde beauty and was suited up in an obviously expensively tailored black suit. He was wearing a blood red dress-shirt with the top two buttons undone and no tie. His hair was expertly fixed with gel in the I’ve-just-been-shagged-senseless style and ... no! It couldn’t be! Had he applied eyeliner? If so, it gave him a smouldering, sexy, mysterious look, although Harry thought he looked like that all the time.
“Fucking HELL! Those three hours were productive!” Harry managed to say in a somewhat breathy voice.
“Yes, well, it didn’t help that the bloody house elves hadn’t ironed my shirt until ten minutes ago.” Draco whined, smoothing out imaginary creases from his shirt.
Harry was hard pressed not to pounce on the blonde right there and then, but the thought of the amount of time he would spend waiting for Draco to fix his appearance after Harry so artfully messed it up, stopped Harry in his tracks.
By the time Harry had stopped salivating about Draco and his clothes that looked so good on, but would look even better off, he looked up to see that the star of his daydreams was already in his coat at the door.
“Well, you coming, or do I have to remind you that you’re in my mother’s black book?” Draco announced in his superior tone, and with a Malfoy smirk firmly plastered to his face.
Harry stood and walked to retrieve his coat from the stand by the door. “It wasn’t even my fault! I didn’t break that vase,” Harry grumbled as he slid his arms into the coat sleeves and exited the door that Draco was holding open in a moment of unrealised chivalry that he would remember to deny later.
“That’s what you keep saying but the story about surprisingly solid apparitions of boxing kangaroos wearing golden gloves, going around and punching furniture and the likes was hard for my mother to believe,” Draco explained calmly, “also, it was a priceless vase from a lost South American tribe, and the only one of its kind. She was quite distraught when she found you attempting to glue the pieces back together in our kitchen.”
“I just thought that if I managed to make it look okay, she wouldn’t notice,” Harry mumbled, running his hand though his perpetually messy hair.
Draco lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “there are spells for that, but the super glue was irreversible, maybe if you’d used muggle glue instead of the never-fail glue that has been proven to stick forever, my mother would have been more forgiving. But, as it is, she isn’t and she ... dislikes you.” Harry snorted derisively, thinking that ‘dislike’ was the understatement of the history of the world.
Harry stepped into the alley beside their apartment, closely followed by Draco and turned to meet the blonde with a low chuckle. Harry stepped closer and placed his hands gently on Draco’s skinny hips, pulling the man towards him. “But tonight, she won’t be able to deny that I’m anything but a perfect angel” Harry whispered conspiratorially against Draco’s neck, sending a cool shiver down the taller man’s back.
“Whatever you have planned,” Draco murmured into Harry’s messy mop, “better not lose us a place at Christmas dinner, ‘cause I’ll never forgive you if I miss mum’s homemade pudding.” Harry pulled away and quirked his eyebrow in question when Draco said “mum” in such a blasé way.
“What?! We’re not as high strung as people think we are!” Draco cried, defending himself. Harry just smirked and apparated them into the Malfoy Manor grounds.
As they walked up the gravel drive, hand-in-hand, in relative silence, Harry made a mental list of all the high-strung things the Malfoy’s did, compared to the amount of normal, low key things they engaged in. He managed to count 139 (it was a long drive-way) snobby activities they engaged in compared to one blasé event, which was the familial terms that Draco used for his parents. Draco, on the other hand, was mentally checking off that his appearance was top quality, as a Malfoy should never look anything other than their best in public.
They reached the front door, and in a moment of panic, and perfect timing, managed to disengage their hands as Narcissa Malfoy open the door to greet her son, and sneer at the brat he insisted on dating.
HDHDHD
TBC.
I’ll bring you more tomorrow! <3
M.
M.
HDHDHD
“Draco! Hurry the hell up! We’re already twenty minutes late!” Harry called up the stairs, “there’s fashionably late, and then there’s just-plain-rude late and the line between the two is amazingly thin.” The brunet slumped back into the black leather couch and heard a series of heavy thumps and some rather expressive cursing.
“You alright up there, or do I have to come and save you from yourself?” Harry called, sounding sarcastic, but secretly worried about his blonde lover.
Harry heard a deep growl from upstairs expressing the blonde’s anger. “Just shut the hell up, Potter! Some of us take pride in our appearances and beauty takes time!” Draco yelled back. Harry thought he heard “and pain” tacked on the end, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Well your beauty has taken the best part of the last three hours! Can we please just leave, your mother already hates me, and it won’t please her any more if we’re late to her drinks!” Harry whined as the blonde descended the stairs.
Harry’s jaw dropped, Draco was stood in front of him, a tall, lithe, blonde beauty and was suited up in an obviously expensively tailored black suit. He was wearing a blood red dress-shirt with the top two buttons undone and no tie. His hair was expertly fixed with gel in the I’ve-just-been-shagged-senseless style and ... no! It couldn’t be! Had he applied eyeliner? If so, it gave him a smouldering, sexy, mysterious look, although Harry thought he looked like that all the time.
“Fucking HELL! Those three hours were productive!” Harry managed to say in a somewhat breathy voice.
“Yes, well, it didn’t help that the bloody house elves hadn’t ironed my shirt until ten minutes ago.” Draco whined, smoothing out imaginary creases from his shirt.
Harry was hard pressed not to pounce on the blonde right there and then, but the thought of the amount of time he would spend waiting for Draco to fix his appearance after Harry so artfully messed it up, stopped Harry in his tracks.
By the time Harry had stopped salivating about Draco and his clothes that looked so good on, but would look even better off, he looked up to see that the star of his daydreams was already in his coat at the door.
“Well, you coming, or do I have to remind you that you’re in my mother’s black book?” Draco announced in his superior tone, and with a Malfoy smirk firmly plastered to his face.
Harry stood and walked to retrieve his coat from the stand by the door. “It wasn’t even my fault! I didn’t break that vase,” Harry grumbled as he slid his arms into the coat sleeves and exited the door that Draco was holding open in a moment of unrealised chivalry that he would remember to deny later.
“That’s what you keep saying but the story about surprisingly solid apparitions of boxing kangaroos wearing golden gloves, going around and punching furniture and the likes was hard for my mother to believe,” Draco explained calmly, “also, it was a priceless vase from a lost South American tribe, and the only one of its kind. She was quite distraught when she found you attempting to glue the pieces back together in our kitchen.”
“I just thought that if I managed to make it look okay, she wouldn’t notice,” Harry mumbled, running his hand though his perpetually messy hair.
Draco lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “there are spells for that, but the super glue was irreversible, maybe if you’d used muggle glue instead of the never-fail glue that has been proven to stick forever, my mother would have been more forgiving. But, as it is, she isn’t and she ... dislikes you.” Harry snorted derisively, thinking that ‘dislike’ was the understatement of the history of the world.
Harry stepped into the alley beside their apartment, closely followed by Draco and turned to meet the blonde with a low chuckle. Harry stepped closer and placed his hands gently on Draco’s skinny hips, pulling the man towards him. “But tonight, she won’t be able to deny that I’m anything but a perfect angel” Harry whispered conspiratorially against Draco’s neck, sending a cool shiver down the taller man’s back.
“Whatever you have planned,” Draco murmured into Harry’s messy mop, “better not lose us a place at Christmas dinner, ‘cause I’ll never forgive you if I miss mum’s homemade pudding.” Harry pulled away and quirked his eyebrow in question when Draco said “mum” in such a blasé way.
“What?! We’re not as high strung as people think we are!” Draco cried, defending himself. Harry just smirked and apparated them into the Malfoy Manor grounds.
As they walked up the gravel drive, hand-in-hand, in relative silence, Harry made a mental list of all the high-strung things the Malfoy’s did, compared to the amount of normal, low key things they engaged in. He managed to count 139 (it was a long drive-way) snobby activities they engaged in compared to one blasé event, which was the familial terms that Draco used for his parents. Draco, on the other hand, was mentally checking off that his appearance was top quality, as a Malfoy should never look anything other than their best in public.
They reached the front door, and in a moment of panic, and perfect timing, managed to disengage their hands as Narcissa Malfoy open the door to greet her son, and sneer at the brat he insisted on dating.
HDHDHD
TBC.
I’ll bring you more tomorrow! <3
M.