A Night at the Opera

A/N: Written for Mexx’s 17th birthday, per her request that Harry take Draco out, get bored, and give him a blow job. The rest is just a testament to how wacked-out I am.

**

“So, tell me Potter, is there any particular reason why you see fit to take me out for my birthday the week *after* my birthday?”

“Hmm?”

“My birthday, Harry. It *was* August 23rd. Today is September 3rd and you’ve only just chosen to inform me that we are going out ‘for my birthday,’” Draco arched his eyebrow and peered at Harry in annoyance.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Harry grinned at his partner of two years, “And today was the only day I could get tickets for.”

“Tickets? What kind of tickets, Potter?” Draco looked concerned in a ‘I’m really not keen on being bored out of my mind tonight’ kind of way. “Don’t you dare think you’re going to force to me to go somewhere… Muggle.”

“That was my aim, actually,” Harry’s eyes glinted mischievously. “You could use some exposure to Muggle culture, I think. And it’s not everyday you turn twenty-three.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Oh, please. Don’t give me that old rubbish. You’re just keen to annoy the hell out of me with this so-called ‘Muggle culture’ and want to rub it in that you’re older than I am. As always. You always were a snarky bastard, Potter, even if you did hide it behind that whole ‘Oh! Behold me, I am Lord Gryffindor, hero to the masses’ façade.”

“When will you stop referring to me by my surname, Malfoy?” Harry answering cheekily, ignoring Draco’s throw-back to his snarky Hogwarts-self.

“Never,” Draco replied firmly, “it just has a ring to it, rolls off the tongue.”

“You do enjoy doing things with your tongue,” Harry threw Draco a naughty grin.

“That is beside the point - I hate you,” Draco stared at Harry dead-on.

“And I hate you,” Harry grinned saucily. “It *does* explain why we’re so sexually attracted to each other, you know. We probably always wanted to shag each other rotten, but didn’t want to admit it.” He crossed the room and pulled both his and Draco’s coats from closcloset.

“What are now now, my shrink?”

“Wow, a Muggle reference. I’m impressed, Draco,” Harry tossed Draco’s coat to him, which he caught.

“Shut up, Potter. So, what monstrosity are you dragging me to this time? Another one of those ‘movie’ thingamajiggers? Personally, I’d rather not see another American twit shagging a pie, thank you very much. It’s so… common,” Draco shuddered.

“Sorry, Malfoy. It was the only movie I could get Ron and Hermione to agree on at the time.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Their company was almost as bad as the movie itself.”

“I resent that. They’re my friends,” Harry sat on the couch and began putting on his shoes.

“And I’m shagging you. That doesn’t mean we have to all get along. I can still think that Granger’s a know-it-all and that Weasley’s a twit, and they can consider me to be the prat I always was.” arryarry cocked his head bemusedly, “You’re admitting that you were a prat?”

“Not quite, Potter. I said they could go on thinking I was one. And even if I was, I was damn sexy doing it, so it hardly matters.”

Harry scoffed.

“Don’t scoff at me, Harry Potter! You *know* you wanted me. It even had you sneaking into my common room second year. You were gagging for it.”

“Hardly, Malfoy!” Harry threw a pillow at Draco and it hit him square in the face. He continued, “I snuck into your common room because I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin, not so I could get my rocks off. And as Goyle, no less. Fat chance.”

“Quite. He always was a bit too plump for my tastes,” Draco retaliated by sending the pillow careening across the room at Harry. He missed. Harry grinned and put the pillow back in its place.

“We should really go, Draco, or we’ll be late.”

“Hmm, if you insist,” Draco conceded reluctantly and put on his coat.

As they were heading out the door of their shared flat, Harry continued on the vein of their earlier conversation. “You’re really quite the sicko, Malfoy. I was *twelve* when I snuck into your common room. The last thing on my mind was sex. Particularly sex with you.”

Draco smirked, closing the door behind them,atevatever, Potter. You’re just in denial.”

“Pedophile,” Harry shot back as they walked out into the crisp September air.

**

“No. No!” Draco declared emphatically as he pulled Harry back in the direction of the Waterloo station. “I will NOT sit through an Opera. Uh uh. No way, Mr. Potter.” He stamped his foot at Harry’s bemused look.

“Love,” Harry simpered, “I said I was going to get you some Muggle culture, and this is Muggle culture.”

“Excuse me?” Draco squawked, flailing his arms about erratically. “You consider *this* culture?” Draco took two steps towards the theater and pointed his finger at the marquee. “‘Jerry Springer - the Opera?’ Are you MAD?”

“No, Draco honey, I am not mad,” Harry soothed. “It’s a very popular show. It’s moving to the West End next month, so it’s considered rather high class. And I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“High class, Harry Potter? We’re talking about something based on a show where Ame Americans beat up their relatives!”

Harry frowned, “They’re not all fat.”

“No,” Draco scoffed, “Some of them are transsexual members of the Klu Klux Klan who are cheating on their lovers.” He glared at Harry.

Harry scratched his head and squinted in puzzlement. “Do you really think the Klu Klux Klan would allow transsexuals? It seems to go against their principles…”

“Harry Potter!” Draco screeched. “We are not discussing the politics and principles of thu Klu Klux Klan! And we are not seeing this, this… opera. Take me home, now.”

“Oh, no Draco Malfoy,” Harry shook his head. “We are going to watch this opera. I paid for it and it’s your birthday present. So suck it up.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry murderously, “I. Hate. You.”

“Yes, dear,” Harry muttered facetiously as he grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the theater entrance.

**

“Draco?” Harry leaned over towards his lover and whispered under his breath. Draco simply responded by swatting at Harry with his hand, refusing to tear his eyes away from the spectacle on stage.

“Draaaaacooooo….” Harry whined.

“Shhhh!” Draco hissed. “The Klu Klux Klan members are tap dancing!” Draco was enthralled, but Harry continued to squirm in the seat next to him.

“Draacooo, honeeeeeey,” he continued.

Draco swung around in his seat. “What?” he seethed.

“I’m booorrreedd,” Harry drew out, tapping his foot anxiously and screwing up his face.

“Are you fucking nutters, Potter?” Draco hissed incredulously, “This is bloody brilliant!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Sit down and shut up, Potter. Steve’s about to pull Baby Jane off Peaches.”

“But, Draco!”

“No, Potter. If you’re bored, find a way to bloody entertain yourself, and leave me to enjoy the show,” Draco said. His rigid posture indicated that he was done discussing the matter.

“Fine,” Harry pouted. He glanced around. They were in a private balcony and the rail came up far above their waists. If Draco wanted Harry to entertain himself, he would entertain himself.

**

Draco chuckled. That Steve was just brilliant. But that Jerry… what a prat. Oooh… Satan and Jesus just showed up and there’s… Holy shit! Draco glanced down and saw Harry on his knees in front of him, with Draco’s zipper down and his cock in Harry’s hands.

“Potter,” he whispered harshly, “what the fuck do you think you’re doi

“Entertaining myself,” Harry grinned as he ran his tongue along the underside of Draco’s penis. Unable to resist the pleasant sensations he was experiencing, Draco threw his head back and thrust his fingers into Harry’s disheveled locks.

“Well,” Draco sighed, “don’t fucking distract me. Just… keep it slow.”
mmnnmmnnnn,” Harry muttered in assent as he tongued Draco’s length. Draco wondered if he would play their favorite game.

Oh yeah, he was going to play. Draco bit his lower lip and suppressed a groan as Harry began speaking Parseltongue against his testicles and increasingly engorged penis. His breath tickled the wispy blond hair along the base of Draco’s cock as he hissed a few erotic phrases. Though he couldn’t speak Parseltongue, Draco knew instinctively that Harry was getting particularly dirty and explicit in his subject matter.

Jerry was trying to keep Eve from tackling God and Adam had burst into tears. Draco himself was on the verge of tears, as Harry was going the slow, torturous route with his oral ministrations, per usual. Putting up with Potter’s hero-complex was worth it for the blow jobs alone, though the sex was practically euphoric as well.

Draco wondered in passing if they could get away with a little tryst here in the balcony, but thought better of it. He rather wanted to know who Mary’s baby-daddy was and whether or not Angel Gabriel and Archangel Michael were going to get into a fist fight.

“Oooooooh!” Draco gasped huskily as Harry took him into his mouth. Seriously, the boy had no gag-reflex. What the hell did those Gryffindors get up to on the weekends? Draco reckoned they must have spent a lot of time practicing on cucumbers, or each other (no, don\'t even think about that).

Harry worked his way down the shaft, then drew circles with his tongue around each ball. Sucking on them in turn, he took both into his mouth with about as much pressure as you\'d use to suck blood on a wound. He worked his way back up, scraping the underside gently with his bottom teeth, and then teased Draco by licking around the head and sucking on just the tip.

“Dear God!” Draco panted, lucky not to draw attention to himself, as God had just finished a remarkable baritone solo. Harry grinned against the tip of Draco’s pulsating length. He knew Draco was about to come, so he took him fully in his mouth once more.

Despite his natural proclivity towards being a screamer, Draco managed to writhe in silent pleasure as he spilled forth into Harry’s waiting and eager mouth. Once he’d finished gulping down the dregs of Draco’s orgasm, Harry slowly removed his mouth from Draco and grinned up at him goofily.

“Happy birthday, honey.”

Draco simply nodded lethargically. Where were they again?

**

“So, what did you think?” Harry queried as they ambled towards the tube station.

“Abso-bloody-lutely riveting! I mean, how lame can you get - an Immaculate conception! What kind of wanker would believe that idiot story, no matter how sincere the little slut sounded’m s’m surprised Joseph didn’t show up and beat the shit out of God. Jesus Christ!”

“Well, yeah,” Harry nodded, though Draco missed the irony. “But I wasn’t talking about the show, Draco.”

“Oh, *that*,” Draco said, understanding. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?!?!?!” Harry practically shrieked. “I was fucking *on* tonight, and you bloody well know it. Bloody okay,” Harry muttered, storming off in front of Draco.

They rode the tube in awkward silence, as Draco had given up gushing over the show to Harry – he just ignored him anyway. He didn’t attempt to speak again until they’d reached their flat. Harry flew past Draco and threw off his coat in a huff.

“What the fuck is your issue, Potter?” Draco spat.

“My issue?” Harry shot back sharply. “I don’t have an issue, Draco. You’re the cold bastard whom I mistakenly deign to call my boyfriend. I’d say you have the issue.”

“I wasn’t so cold when you were gulping down my come, now was I?” he waggled an eyebrow at Harry, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Oh, please,” Harry responded, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest huffily, “like you even noticed. You were so fucking involved in the torrid sex life of Bible characters, I bet you scarcely noticed what I was doing. After all, it was only ‘okay.’”

“Oh, get over yourself, Potter! What did you want me to say? That the way you suckled and engulfed my cock made me go weak at the knees and had me seeing stars? Excuse me if I’m not poetic enough for you.”

“Don’t start with me, Draco.”

“Malfoy,” Draco muttered, “you should call me Malfoy.”

Harry pouted. “I thought we’d moved past that.”

“Hardly, Potter,” Draco declared. “Besides, it’s bit of a turn on.”

“You’re kidding me,” Harry queried.

“What can I say,” Draco grinned saucily, “reminds me of a very sexy little Gryffindor I used to know.”

Harry simply rolled his eyes again and tried to push Draco off as he sauntered over to him and took him in his arms.

“Ah, come on, Potter,” Draco chided, “I was only trying to get a rise out of you. You were fucking fantastic. Best blow job ever,” he kissed Harry atop his head then pulled back to look at him. “Weak knees, stars, euphoria - the lot.”

Harry peered skeptically at him over the rim of his glasses. “You were just taking the mickey? To get a rise out of me?”

“Hmmm, yes,” Draco murmured against the flesh of Harry’s throat as he kissed it. “Looks like it worked, too.” He ground his gradually hardening bulge into Harry’s matching one.

“Bitch,” Harry muttered as he nibbled on Draco’s earlobe.

“Your bitch – and only yours,” Draco answered him sincerely. Then he scowled slightly, “You tell anyone that and I’ll kill you, Potter, I swear.”

“Call me Harry.”

“Why?”

“Because you know you love me.”

“Whatever.”

“Indeed,” Harry countered as he dragged Draco into their bedroom –

“Harry!”

- finis

Post story A/N: I know very few details about Jerry Springer: The Opera, as I really couldn’t find a summary anywhere. But, all the characters mentioned come from the official cast list, and I simply inferred what kind of plots might pop up. And it really is moving to the West End in October. It’s currently on a run at the National Theater.

And my little Harry/Parseltongue fetish is all Kat’s fault. I can never look at Daniel Radcliffe the same way again. And blame the blow job details on her, too. She’s naughty like that.