![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Okay, you know this had to happen... ^__~
Title: Table Talk
Author: me
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Summary: Draco manages his last day of treatment with a little help. Part 7 in the Arrangement series.
Disclaimer: The HP characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them.
Also posted on AO3 and skyehawke.
...
Previous parts:
The Arrangement ~ An Evening in August ~ Perfect Potter ~ In Comparison ~ Hypocritical (Hypocritical is f-locked due to rating, and is not especially crucial to the main storyline. It can also be found here.) ~ A Slight Dilemma
Table Talk
Draco was halfway through an annoyingly obvious denial of a new memory enhancement elixir when a grey speckled owl with a wise face soared through his open window and fluttered down gracefully atop his desk, bearing a large complement of post.
“You wouldn’t accidentally drop that down a Muggle sewer grate if I asked nicely, would you?” he said blandly, marking off an instance of incorrectly used gorse in the potion.
The owl blinked at him in a nonplussed fashion.
Draco sighed and took the mail. “Treats are in the pouch on the windowsill.”
Five minutes later, one vanished owl later, and four irritating requests for donations later, Draco spelled open the seal of an insubstantial-looking envelope and removed the single, small scrap of parchment. It only had one line.
I hope you’ve nothing particular to do this evening.
A smile curled its way over Draco’s face. Abruptly, the irritation of his day trickled away. He hummed to himself as he stacked all that donation idiocy and sent it down the hall with a wave of his wand. Rescheduled a meeting for the following week with the head of the German imports department. Selected a golden tipped quill from a choice of five. He flipped the parchment over and scrawled a sentence.
I might take a nap.
His official post owl was prompt as usual, and gone in seconds. Draco crossed his feet over his desktop and leaned back, closing his eyes and relishing the cool breeze from the window.
The owl was back within fifteen minutes.
You can try.
Draco smirked. Picked up his quill again.
Whatever best benefits me, naturally.
Fifteen minutes later: Come over when you get off.
Draco cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. It might do to work through lunch this time, he supposed, in order to avoid… staying late.
* * *
Harry’s flat was warm and well-lit. Draco let himself in through the door and tossed his cloak aside in an uncharacteristic heap on the floor. Harry appeared at the end of the entrance hall, wearing a thin brown T-shirt and sweatpants that hugged his hips in all the right places. In other words, everywhere. He looked down at the untidy pile of wizarding cloak, and raised an eyebrow. “Well. Someone’s in a good mood.”
Draco shrugged, exhaling carelessly and stretching both arms over his head until his lower back cracked. “I’m feeling somewhat relaxed.”
“Going to wrinkle.” Harry’s face was positively amused.
Draco rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and let out a cleansing sigh. “Fuck wrinkles.”
“So,” Harry said, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a light swig. “Last day, yeah?”
“Drank the blasted thing this morning. Final dose.” Draco hooked his thumbs in Harry’s pockets and turned him in a circle as he slipped past him into the living room. “And what did the Healers say to you?”
Harry let himself be pulled along, hips jutting just a bit forward, stomach muscles flexing as he breathed. “That I’m done with the tests, and the potions. They can’t find anything anymore. Didn’t get enough of a foothold, it seems.”
Draco caressed Harry’s bare waist above his sweats with his thumbs, looking at the sliver of tanned skin just under the hem of his shirt. “Good to know,” he said quietly.
For a moment, Harry just swayed into his touch, and Draco felt goosebumps ripple under his fingers. A hand brushed his cheek fleetingly, fingertips lingering. Then Harry snorted. “No… no, you’re not heading this up tonight, Malfoy, you can just forget all your little plans. It’s already too late for that.”
“Is it, now?”
Harry leaned over and set his beer bottle down on the coffee table, and Draco took the opportunity to run his hands over the slope of Harry’s side, drifting up under his shirt as far as he could manage before Harry straightened up again. His lover caught his hands in a gentle, sweeping grip that continued the movement in wide circles. “It is. Gods, look at you. Absolutely helpless.”
“I haven’t had sex in nearly three weeks, Potter,” Draco said in a low tone that dilated Harry’s pupils rapidly. “Helpless is not the word I’d choose.”
Harry grinned at him, drawing him by their linked hands toward the kitchen. “We’re eating off the counter top, I’m afraid. I want the table for you.”
Draco leaned in and tried for a kiss, caught Harry’s mouth in a sultry, glancing touch. Harry ghosted a hand up over his wrist and encircled it with his fingers. “Hm,” Draco said. “Haven’t done it in the kitchen in a while.”
“A long while.” Harry’s arm slid around his waist and locked there for an instant, drawing Draco’s body close and then slipping away, continuing the steady movement up his back, down his side. “Not especially hungry just yet, are you?”
“Skipped lunch,” Draco breathed, darting his tongue out to taste Harry’s throat. Pressing his lips there and murmuring. “Don’t let that stop you.”
Harry made a sound deep in his throat and rocked Draco to him again, this time kissing him full on the mouth, open-mouthed and messy and deep. Gone again. His hands found their way to Draco’s shirt buttons and began tugging them free. “You have… mm, no idea, Draco… how pathetically desperate I am right at this moment.”
“Pathetic looks good on you,” Draco growled, pulling Harry’s shirt up. He’d barely gotten it over Harry’s head when the other man tugged him closer, flattening their chests together and kissing him hard. Draco moaned at the feeling of Harry’s bare skin against his stomach, the swish of his own shirt parting between them, the top buttons straining against their holes. Harry clasped his hips with both hands and slid further down, curving his palms over his arse and back up, and Draco gasped.
“Ohgods—”
Harry rocked their bodies into alignment, edging Draco around in a circle. “Get these off of you. They look awfully confining.”
“Oh, likewise, Potter.” It took almost nothing to drag Harry’s sweats down until they barely hung against his hips, barely covered that perfect line of hair trailing down, and did absolutely nothing to conceal his pointed interest in the situation. Draco locked an arm around Harry’s shoulders and rolled their hips together, and Harry shuddered. His hands jerked forcefully at Draco’s flies and tugged them free. With nothing to hold them in place, his trousers slid down in a whisper-sweep of expensive fabric. Draco grinned against Harry’s mouth.
“And that’s why I ‘practically empty my vaults’ buying clothing.”
Harry growled something noncommittal, and suddenly he was walking Draco backward, pushing him with the lines and arcs of his own body until Draco felt the hard edge of the kitchen table against the backs of his thighs. He opened his mouth, seeking air, seeking Harry, and curled his hands through the tangle of soft hair. Yanked Harry’s glasses off and flung them vaguely aside. He fumbled his feet out of his shoes, out of his trouser legs. Harry loosed one hand from the sure grip on his waist to shove his own sweats down past his knees. In one steady, uncompromising move, he angled his hips and insinuated himself between Draco’s thighs.
“Come on, Potter,” Draco hissed. No sooner had he spoken than Harry had gripped him and lifted, pushed him bodily up onto the table. Draco shuddered, almost beside himself at the hot press of skin against his groin, the solid muscle straining under his fingers where they clutched at Harry’s back. His lover gained a firm hold on his hips and inched him forward, curving his back and whispering a spell. Draco felt it trickle through him, spiking off rivulets of desire in his legs and back and chest. He hooked his knees around Harry’s waist and pressed forward until there was nothing between them, not even the barest hint of air, clutched Harry’s shoulder, dug fingertips in, and breathed raggedly through his mouth as Harry pressed into him.
“Oh… slow… Har— ohhh…”
Harry’s body trembled; his hands slid up Draco’s lower back, easing him closer. He leaned with him, bending him over the table until Draco felt his own shirt bunching under his back and the cool tabletop beneath, and Harry’s chest, firm and panting against his.
Harry raised himself a little bit and tugged Draco that final inch nearer. Bent again and kissed his chin, his chest, sucked lightly and with wordless murmurs at the soft hollow of his throat. Draco drew an unsteady breath. “Oh, fuck. Missed this. Really missed this…”
Harry eased one knee up onto the table in a steady roll, then the other, pushing Draco further over the tabletop, crawling onto it sinuously. Hooking his hands beneath Draco’s knees and hiking them higher. Draco’s lower back left the table’s surface entirely and the wood creaked and groaned. “Hope you’re not too worn out from work,” Harry whispered breathlessly into his chest. “Night’s young.”
Draco shut his eyes, gripping handfuls of Harry’s hair. And when his lover began the first tiny, excruciating thrusts, he stopped trying to keep quiet.
* * *
“Here.”
Draco opened one eye and took the proffered chip from Harry’s fingers. He chewed lazily, hmming. “Pass me another, would you? With vinegar.”
Harry stretched one hand out, muttered an Accio, and the bottle of vinegar came banging out of the cupboard and sailing toward him, followed by another chip. He drizzled the liquid over the piece of potato and settled it gently against Draco’s lips. “Spoiled brat.”
“You should know,” he shot back. He licked at Harry’s fingertips unabashedly, shutting his eyes again and relaxing back against the hard wood of the tabletop. “You’re the main culprit these days.”
Harry snorted. “Right. I do not spoil you.”
“Oh no?” Draco shuffled up onto his elbows, staring Harry directly in the eye. “And what would you call shagging me halfway through the kitchen table?”
Harry grinned cheekily. “Spoiling me.”
“Nothing but a symbiotic arrangement,” Draco dismissed loftily. He flicked his fingers toward the bag of chips and was gratified to receive four of them instead of only one. “Salazar, I feel much better. Been too fucking long.”
Harry leaned over him to grab his bottle of beer. Draco snagged it from him and downed half of the contents. Harry swatted him with salty fingers. “Leave off. Go Summon your own.”
Draco gave the beer over, then held out for a few seconds before relieving Harry of the bottle again. He set it down, rolled Harry onto his back over the tabletop and kissed him deeply on the mouth. Harry’s body went slowly limp, one bare knee easing up, hands coming to rest on Draco’s back. Draco savoured salt and alcohol and vinegar with his tongue and lips, tasted thoroughly, and then simply kissed Harry until he needed to breathe again. “Work tomorrow?”
Harry licked his lips sluggishly. His mouth was swollen and sleepy and enticing, and Draco reminded himself that he did in fact want an answer to his question. “Seven hells, no. Think I’d miss this?”
“So I have you tomorrow, too.” Draco nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds rather ominous.”
Harry stretched, letting one arm swing wide and drop down heavily across Draco’s back, where it tightened comfortably. “Food, Draco. Focus.”
“I am absolutely focused,” he said unconcernedly. “Vinegar.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but fumbled for the vinegar bottle and passed it to him. Let out an overly contented sigh. “Bollocks to your vinegar. Want some fish?”
“Mm, maybe later.” Draco pressed Harry’s reaching hand firmly back down onto the table over his head and tongued his mouth open slowly, patiently, until Harry was kissing him again, breathing through his nose and looking utterly unhinged.
“Best save something for later tonight,” he whispered at last, when they parted to catch their breath. “You know how bloody hungry you get.”
Harry’s only response was to hook a leg around his hips and pull him in again.
~fin~
...
Part 8: Contract Negotiations
Title: Table Talk
Author: me
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Summary: Draco manages his last day of treatment with a little help. Part 7 in the Arrangement series.
Disclaimer: The HP characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them.
Also posted on AO3 and skyehawke.
...
Previous parts:
The Arrangement ~ An Evening in August ~ Perfect Potter ~ In Comparison ~ Hypocritical (Hypocritical is f-locked due to rating, and is not especially crucial to the main storyline. It can also be found here.) ~ A Slight Dilemma
Table Talk
Draco was halfway through an annoyingly obvious denial of a new memory enhancement elixir when a grey speckled owl with a wise face soared through his open window and fluttered down gracefully atop his desk, bearing a large complement of post.
“You wouldn’t accidentally drop that down a Muggle sewer grate if I asked nicely, would you?” he said blandly, marking off an instance of incorrectly used gorse in the potion.
The owl blinked at him in a nonplussed fashion.
Draco sighed and took the mail. “Treats are in the pouch on the windowsill.”
Five minutes later, one vanished owl later, and four irritating requests for donations later, Draco spelled open the seal of an insubstantial-looking envelope and removed the single, small scrap of parchment. It only had one line.
I hope you’ve nothing particular to do this evening.
A smile curled its way over Draco’s face. Abruptly, the irritation of his day trickled away. He hummed to himself as he stacked all that donation idiocy and sent it down the hall with a wave of his wand. Rescheduled a meeting for the following week with the head of the German imports department. Selected a golden tipped quill from a choice of five. He flipped the parchment over and scrawled a sentence.
I might take a nap.
His official post owl was prompt as usual, and gone in seconds. Draco crossed his feet over his desktop and leaned back, closing his eyes and relishing the cool breeze from the window.
The owl was back within fifteen minutes.
You can try.
Draco smirked. Picked up his quill again.
Whatever best benefits me, naturally.
Fifteen minutes later: Come over when you get off.
Draco cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. It might do to work through lunch this time, he supposed, in order to avoid… staying late.
* * *
Harry’s flat was warm and well-lit. Draco let himself in through the door and tossed his cloak aside in an uncharacteristic heap on the floor. Harry appeared at the end of the entrance hall, wearing a thin brown T-shirt and sweatpants that hugged his hips in all the right places. In other words, everywhere. He looked down at the untidy pile of wizarding cloak, and raised an eyebrow. “Well. Someone’s in a good mood.”
Draco shrugged, exhaling carelessly and stretching both arms over his head until his lower back cracked. “I’m feeling somewhat relaxed.”
“Going to wrinkle.” Harry’s face was positively amused.
Draco rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and let out a cleansing sigh. “Fuck wrinkles.”
“So,” Harry said, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a light swig. “Last day, yeah?”
“Drank the blasted thing this morning. Final dose.” Draco hooked his thumbs in Harry’s pockets and turned him in a circle as he slipped past him into the living room. “And what did the Healers say to you?”
Harry let himself be pulled along, hips jutting just a bit forward, stomach muscles flexing as he breathed. “That I’m done with the tests, and the potions. They can’t find anything anymore. Didn’t get enough of a foothold, it seems.”
Draco caressed Harry’s bare waist above his sweats with his thumbs, looking at the sliver of tanned skin just under the hem of his shirt. “Good to know,” he said quietly.
For a moment, Harry just swayed into his touch, and Draco felt goosebumps ripple under his fingers. A hand brushed his cheek fleetingly, fingertips lingering. Then Harry snorted. “No… no, you’re not heading this up tonight, Malfoy, you can just forget all your little plans. It’s already too late for that.”
“Is it, now?”
Harry leaned over and set his beer bottle down on the coffee table, and Draco took the opportunity to run his hands over the slope of Harry’s side, drifting up under his shirt as far as he could manage before Harry straightened up again. His lover caught his hands in a gentle, sweeping grip that continued the movement in wide circles. “It is. Gods, look at you. Absolutely helpless.”
“I haven’t had sex in nearly three weeks, Potter,” Draco said in a low tone that dilated Harry’s pupils rapidly. “Helpless is not the word I’d choose.”
Harry grinned at him, drawing him by their linked hands toward the kitchen. “We’re eating off the counter top, I’m afraid. I want the table for you.”
Draco leaned in and tried for a kiss, caught Harry’s mouth in a sultry, glancing touch. Harry ghosted a hand up over his wrist and encircled it with his fingers. “Hm,” Draco said. “Haven’t done it in the kitchen in a while.”
“A long while.” Harry’s arm slid around his waist and locked there for an instant, drawing Draco’s body close and then slipping away, continuing the steady movement up his back, down his side. “Not especially hungry just yet, are you?”
“Skipped lunch,” Draco breathed, darting his tongue out to taste Harry’s throat. Pressing his lips there and murmuring. “Don’t let that stop you.”
Harry made a sound deep in his throat and rocked Draco to him again, this time kissing him full on the mouth, open-mouthed and messy and deep. Gone again. His hands found their way to Draco’s shirt buttons and began tugging them free. “You have… mm, no idea, Draco… how pathetically desperate I am right at this moment.”
“Pathetic looks good on you,” Draco growled, pulling Harry’s shirt up. He’d barely gotten it over Harry’s head when the other man tugged him closer, flattening their chests together and kissing him hard. Draco moaned at the feeling of Harry’s bare skin against his stomach, the swish of his own shirt parting between them, the top buttons straining against their holes. Harry clasped his hips with both hands and slid further down, curving his palms over his arse and back up, and Draco gasped.
“Ohgods—”
Harry rocked their bodies into alignment, edging Draco around in a circle. “Get these off of you. They look awfully confining.”
“Oh, likewise, Potter.” It took almost nothing to drag Harry’s sweats down until they barely hung against his hips, barely covered that perfect line of hair trailing down, and did absolutely nothing to conceal his pointed interest in the situation. Draco locked an arm around Harry’s shoulders and rolled their hips together, and Harry shuddered. His hands jerked forcefully at Draco’s flies and tugged them free. With nothing to hold them in place, his trousers slid down in a whisper-sweep of expensive fabric. Draco grinned against Harry’s mouth.
“And that’s why I ‘practically empty my vaults’ buying clothing.”
Harry growled something noncommittal, and suddenly he was walking Draco backward, pushing him with the lines and arcs of his own body until Draco felt the hard edge of the kitchen table against the backs of his thighs. He opened his mouth, seeking air, seeking Harry, and curled his hands through the tangle of soft hair. Yanked Harry’s glasses off and flung them vaguely aside. He fumbled his feet out of his shoes, out of his trouser legs. Harry loosed one hand from the sure grip on his waist to shove his own sweats down past his knees. In one steady, uncompromising move, he angled his hips and insinuated himself between Draco’s thighs.
“Come on, Potter,” Draco hissed. No sooner had he spoken than Harry had gripped him and lifted, pushed him bodily up onto the table. Draco shuddered, almost beside himself at the hot press of skin against his groin, the solid muscle straining under his fingers where they clutched at Harry’s back. His lover gained a firm hold on his hips and inched him forward, curving his back and whispering a spell. Draco felt it trickle through him, spiking off rivulets of desire in his legs and back and chest. He hooked his knees around Harry’s waist and pressed forward until there was nothing between them, not even the barest hint of air, clutched Harry’s shoulder, dug fingertips in, and breathed raggedly through his mouth as Harry pressed into him.
“Oh… slow… Har— ohhh…”
Harry’s body trembled; his hands slid up Draco’s lower back, easing him closer. He leaned with him, bending him over the table until Draco felt his own shirt bunching under his back and the cool tabletop beneath, and Harry’s chest, firm and panting against his.
Harry raised himself a little bit and tugged Draco that final inch nearer. Bent again and kissed his chin, his chest, sucked lightly and with wordless murmurs at the soft hollow of his throat. Draco drew an unsteady breath. “Oh, fuck. Missed this. Really missed this…”
Harry eased one knee up onto the table in a steady roll, then the other, pushing Draco further over the tabletop, crawling onto it sinuously. Hooking his hands beneath Draco’s knees and hiking them higher. Draco’s lower back left the table’s surface entirely and the wood creaked and groaned. “Hope you’re not too worn out from work,” Harry whispered breathlessly into his chest. “Night’s young.”
Draco shut his eyes, gripping handfuls of Harry’s hair. And when his lover began the first tiny, excruciating thrusts, he stopped trying to keep quiet.
* * *
“Here.”
Draco opened one eye and took the proffered chip from Harry’s fingers. He chewed lazily, hmming. “Pass me another, would you? With vinegar.”
Harry stretched one hand out, muttered an Accio, and the bottle of vinegar came banging out of the cupboard and sailing toward him, followed by another chip. He drizzled the liquid over the piece of potato and settled it gently against Draco’s lips. “Spoiled brat.”
“You should know,” he shot back. He licked at Harry’s fingertips unabashedly, shutting his eyes again and relaxing back against the hard wood of the tabletop. “You’re the main culprit these days.”
Harry snorted. “Right. I do not spoil you.”
“Oh no?” Draco shuffled up onto his elbows, staring Harry directly in the eye. “And what would you call shagging me halfway through the kitchen table?”
Harry grinned cheekily. “Spoiling me.”
“Nothing but a symbiotic arrangement,” Draco dismissed loftily. He flicked his fingers toward the bag of chips and was gratified to receive four of them instead of only one. “Salazar, I feel much better. Been too fucking long.”
Harry leaned over him to grab his bottle of beer. Draco snagged it from him and downed half of the contents. Harry swatted him with salty fingers. “Leave off. Go Summon your own.”
Draco gave the beer over, then held out for a few seconds before relieving Harry of the bottle again. He set it down, rolled Harry onto his back over the tabletop and kissed him deeply on the mouth. Harry’s body went slowly limp, one bare knee easing up, hands coming to rest on Draco’s back. Draco savoured salt and alcohol and vinegar with his tongue and lips, tasted thoroughly, and then simply kissed Harry until he needed to breathe again. “Work tomorrow?”
Harry licked his lips sluggishly. His mouth was swollen and sleepy and enticing, and Draco reminded himself that he did in fact want an answer to his question. “Seven hells, no. Think I’d miss this?”
“So I have you tomorrow, too.” Draco nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds rather ominous.”
Harry stretched, letting one arm swing wide and drop down heavily across Draco’s back, where it tightened comfortably. “Food, Draco. Focus.”
“I am absolutely focused,” he said unconcernedly. “Vinegar.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but fumbled for the vinegar bottle and passed it to him. Let out an overly contented sigh. “Bollocks to your vinegar. Want some fish?”
“Mm, maybe later.” Draco pressed Harry’s reaching hand firmly back down onto the table over his head and tongued his mouth open slowly, patiently, until Harry was kissing him again, breathing through his nose and looking utterly unhinged.
“Best save something for later tonight,” he whispered at last, when they parted to catch their breath. “You know how bloody hungry you get.”
Harry’s only response was to hook a leg around his hips and pull him in again.
~fin~
...
Part 8: Contract Negotiations
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 08:09 am (UTC)From:*scurries off to read*
no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 05:06 am (UTC)From:I'm glad that Draco's okay now and Harry didn't get it. I am very curious as to who gave it to Draco though and if he will be making an appearance. Also, if Andy will make another appearance. I kind of liked him. :-D
This whole chapter was brilliant but I particularly loved this part:
Harry eased one knee up onto the table in a steady roll, then the other, pushing Draco further over the tabletop, crawling onto it sinuously. Hooking his hands beneath Draco’s knees and hiking them higher. Draco’s lower back left the table’s surface entirely and the wood creaked and groaned. “Hope you’re not too worn out from work,” Harry whispered breathlessly into his chest. “Night’s young.”
Just...guh. The image of Harry crawling onto the tabletop and over Draco will forever be ingrained in my brain. And Draco arching up into him. Jesus. SO much love for this series.
♥
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 08:57 am (UTC)From:Another lovely installment.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:19 am (UTC)From:Thank you so much, love!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 10:48 am (UTC)From:Awww, I love it when they are hungry for each other..
And pampered!Draco and indulgent!Harry = OTP!
♥
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:18 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 11:28 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:17 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 11:41 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:17 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 01:04 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:16 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 02:40 pm (UTC)From:I started grinning there, and didn't stop until the end. Fabulous. :D
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:16 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 02:42 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:15 am (UTC)From:Thanks so much for reading my stuff.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 04:19 pm (UTC)From:“Oh no?” Draco shuffled up onto his elbows, staring Harry directly in the eye. “And what would you call shagging me halfway through the kitchen table?”
Harry grinned cheekily. “Spoiling me.”
*lol* I loved this little exchange. It's so nice to see them feeling comfortable with one another again. Draco was so tentative in the last chapter, and my heart went out to him.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:14 am (UTC)From:Thank you so much! I'm so happy you enjoyed this one.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 04:46 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:14 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 04:57 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:13 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 05:07 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:12 am (UTC)From:My hat is off to sturdy furniture. Though I do remember a fic somewhere back in my reading past wherein the table in question actually broke. *guffaw*
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 07:22 pm (UTC)From:I love the heat and the urgency even if they didn't tear the clothes off each other. Ver nicely done.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:11 am (UTC)From:Thank you so much, dearest! ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 10:00 pm (UTC)From:Oh, so hot. Mmmmmmmmmm
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:10 am (UTC)From:Thank you so much, darling! I'm glad you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 10:45 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:09 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 01:21 pm (UTC)From:not to mention needing a cold shower now, and i am supposed to be asleep.
gorgeous and sexy and wonderful as always. you are so awesome!
[*flails*]
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:09 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 02:54 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:08 am (UTC)From:Thank you so much for reading my fic! And I too would like a Draco to spoil me. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 06:45 pm (UTC)From:I think the one thing that really stand out in this one(for me at least) is the dialogue...it's so natural and flowy(is this a word?).
Ahh...Draco + expensive trousers = ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:07 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 10:15 pm (UTC)From:Brilliant as ever. I can't help but wonder if Andy noticed any difference in Harr's mood during the 3 week hiatus. I bet Harry'll b wearing a shit eating grin when he goes back to work.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-14 03:06 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-15 04:04 am (UTC)From:I reread this line too many times, so subtly hot.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-21 07:05 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-15 04:25 pm (UTC)From:I still need to catch up on your fics. I haven't had a chance to start reading The Road. :P
How's it going, Ru? Hope everything is going well.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-21 07:06 pm (UTC)From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
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Date: 2007-04-16 09:38 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-21 07:07 pm (UTC)From:So glad Draco is well again.
Oh, me too. Poor boy... And I bet Harry's happy too. *snicker*
no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 10:25 pm (UTC)From:yummy and guh, and awww, and omg, and just...wow!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-21 07:08 pm (UTC)From:Table Talk
Date: 2007-11-07 08:20 pm (UTC)From:Re: Table Talk
Date: 2007-11-10 01:30 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-22 02:23 am (UTC)From:this made me giggle so hard :)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-23 07:10 pm (UTC)From: