I really can't say how much I love her. :) She's given me so much, not just her loving friendship, which is the greatest treasure, but endless hours of enjoyment through her amazing writing.
Today is her birthday and I wanted to do something really especial to celebrate her. But you know, I'm kind of lame and I couldn't figure out what do to do. *sad face*
But then I thought of something! *happy face*
Which is going to embarrass her. *shameful face*
But we're all friends here, so figured it was OK. *is hopeful*
And since she's wonderful like that, she won't be too upset with me. *is REALLY hopeful*
So I present you some of the most mischievous, funny, unexpected and usually utterly sexy things she's put Harry and Draco through via quotes from some of her fics.
This took time and effort, and I had the most AMAZING time doing it. Oh my god, Birds, I was hours and hours at this – for a few days, too! The thing is, at times I had selected the quotes and it went: This OR This OR This OR This. So I had to seriously think which to pick in pretty much every case. :D Also had the hardest time picking a handful of stories. Then I said to myself, I can't do anything less than ten, then I said, okay, impossible less than 15, by the time I reached 20 I thought that was enough, but it was so, so hard.
I want to say I'm sorry, I want to, I wish I could say it and mean it, but I'm not sorry. I loved doing this and I hope you forgive me (she can be so shy, you guys!).
Happy Birthday, Birds! Here some of your quotes for you!
Hairway to Heaven (NC-17, 12K), in which Draco is a stylist and he's yet to be faced with his biggest Challenge: Harry's hair.
Harry startled as Malfoy broke the silence rather huskily.
"Your hair..." Malfoy trailed off, sounding overcome by emotion.
"It's a complete shambles."
"Look at it."
Harry looked at it. He saw shaggy black hair. He saw... Harry.
"Myself and my staff have just spent over an hour devoting ourselves to you. And. You. Look. Just. The. Same."
"You look the same ruddy mess that you did when you walked in here!"
Other customers were becoming aware of the disturbance. Malfoy appeared to get a grip on himself, at least on the surface. He smiled unpleasantly and lowered his voice.
"Tell me, Potter, did you do something to your hair before you came in here today? Hmm? Is this some elaborate joke? Or a shoddy attempt to discredit me?"
The Twelve Days of Draco (R, 3K), in which Draco writes in his Diary and has a very persistent admirer.
It appears we are back to our avian friends again. Six blasted geese arrived on the doorstep this morning, and proceeded to fight viciously with the peacocks. When I opened the door, so many feathers were flying about that I thought it was snowing.
I tried to Vanish them, but after some experimentation, the anonymous gifts seem to be completely impervious to magic. It would be intriguing if it were not so irritating.
However, every cloud has a silver lining. I am fond of a soft-boiled goose egg with asparagus soldiers.
A pointless story in the Prophet about Potter, speculating about his love-life. Allegedly he is single at the moment and on the lookout for a new partner. As if anyone would be interested in such vacuous gossip. I clipped the article out and put it under my pillow so I could read it again later.
Hungry (R, 24,2K), in which Harry and Draco get stuck, literally stuck by the arm.
"If you think I am getting into bed with you unclothed, Potter, you can think again. Keep that fucking ugly shirt on." Malfoy was still working determinedly, with one hand and his wand, muttering spells as he went. Somehow he had got the buttons mostly done, with the shirt off his shoulder on one side, but otherwise properly on. Harry blinked. Malfoy looked... OK in the shirt. It actually really suited him. His hair was in messy tendrils hanging round his face and the shirt had a loose, open neck. He looked very young and less guarded than usual. From close range, Harry could see a dusting of pale freckles on Malfoy's shoulder. He cleared his throat.
"Nice nightie, Malfoy."
Unknown Pleasures (NC-17, 10,5K), in which Harry and Draco discover unknown pleasures because the Room of Requirement is malfunctioning. ;)
“Is it... do you like that?” Harry asked in astonishment.
“Possibly.” Malfoy tone was nonchalant, but he sounded a bit breathless. “I'm not sure yet. Keep going.”
Harry drew back his hand again, this time watching what he could see of Malfoy's face. Malfoy's hair was flopping over his cheeks, but Harry could see him close his eyes and bite his lip as he waited for Harry to spank him again. Harry had to concentrate, to make sure he didn't miss, or do something else really embarrassing, but as soon as he had thwapped his hand down on Malfoy's rear, his eyes darted back to Malfoy's face, which was turning pink and wore the most extraordinary expression. He looked as if Harry had done something wonderful. His eyes were shut and his lips were curved and pouting. Heat radiated through Harry's body, just watching Malfoy's face looking so soft and happy.
He slapped Malfoy's bum again. And again. And again. He was getting into a bit of a rhythm. Malfoy moaned softly and wriggled in Harry's lap.
Rarely Pure and Never Simple (NC-17, 28,3K), in which Draco is hit with a curse and he cannot lie, enters one Harry Potter to work for Draco as his bodyguard (I wonder who came up with such a fab prompt – wait! LOL).
Malfoy’s voice was faintly strangled. “No, no. Just, that was quite an entrance.” He waved towards the window.
“Oh, you saw?” Harry laughed. “The old bike’s a bit loud sometimes. Probably pissed a few people off.”
Malfoy swallowed. “Are those... dragonhide trousers?”
Harry looked down at the form-fitting leather, running his hand over where it stretched across the muscles of his thigh. “Yeah, course. I need them, for the bike.”
Malfoy nodded, his eyes a bit wild. “Of course you do... of course. And the boots and jacket just happen to go with them, do they?” Harry had chosen his knee-high boots with the buckles, and his oldest and most comfortable dragonhide jacket. He felt confused. Was Malfoy vegetarian, or against animal products or something? No, surely he’d just seen him tuck into a plate of beef with Madeira sauce a couple of hours ago.
“Are you OK, Malfoy? Are you sure nothing happened while I was gone?”
Malfoy laughed, an odd high sound. “No. Nothing happened. I just sat here and thought about – I couldn’t stop thinking about –” he swallowed hard and then spat the next word, “things, while you were gone.”
The Joys of Nature (NC-17, 2,5K), in which Harry catches Draco sunbathing. Nude. \o/
By swinging one leg over the other side of the branch to straddle it, and leaning back against the trunk, Harry felt far less precarious, and was able to spread out parts of himself that had been getting squashed. Ah, that was much better. Harry was only adjusting his trousers. Not wanking. Just... touching himself a little bit, while he rearranged things down there. That wasn't wanking. He was just opening his flies (to get some air to his skin), just taking out his cock, moving the foreskin up and down, smoothing precome over the head... This was a little bit like wanking, admittedly, but he was just... just... he was just getting comfortable. Nobody could sit there, just sit there, watching Malfoy rubbing oil on his perfect body, sighing in contentment as he stretched out completely naked, spread out for Harry's enjoyment... nobody could sit there without rubbing his thumb over the slit, fisting himself and pushing into the tight circle of his fingers again and again...
Oh shit. He was definitely wanking.
What Potter Wants (NC-17, 3,5K), in which Draco declares (over and over) that Potter wants to suck his cock, so Harry goes "DO I??!"
On Tuesday, when Malfoy plumped himself down in the green chair (“Evening, all; Potter wants to suck my cock,”) it occurred to Harry that if he were to suck Malfoy's cock, the armchair would actually be a really good place to do it. Malfoy could spread his legs beautifully wide while sitting in it, and he, Harry, could kneel quite comfortably on the rug between his feet and lean down to—
Bloody hell. Why was he even thinking about this? It was completely ridiculous. He never, not in a million years, wanted to suck Malfoy's cock. Not in the green armchair; not under the desk during Potions; not quick and desperate, hidden in an alcove in the corridor, both fully clothed and panting with need; not slow and sloppy, lying on Malfoy's bed with both of them naked, Harry's tongue sliding lazily along the length of it, till Malfoy was begging Harry to let him come.
In the Company of a Rubber Duck (NC-17, 34,6K), in which Draco does his community service as several household items, including a Rubber Duck in Harry's Bathroom (OMG, how does she come with this stuff?:D)
"So – can you, er, see me?"
"Yes, Potter, I can see you. You're poised like a mermaid in a great perfumey heap of froth. Not to mention these rather divine candles floating all over the place. My, my, what a pampered little hero you are."
Harry's hand tightened on his wand, and he narrowed his eyes at the duck. "Get out of here, Malfoy. I'm glad you didn't get sent to Azkaban, but if you think it means you can come to my house and insult me when I'm having a private bath in my own bathroom..."
"With a big old pile of your own private, girly bubbles... well, quite. Who would wish to be disturbed, in such a situation? I can assure you, Potter, I have no inclination to be here in the slightest. However, here I must remain, until my hour is up. And anyone trying to obstruct me from completing my community service will find themselves on the sharp end of the 1998 War Reparations Act. So I'd put your wand down and start finding ways for me to be useful."
"Useful?" Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You're a rubber duck! How am I supposed to find ways for you to be useful?"
"Yes, about that... do, please, enlighten me. What exactly is the function of a rubber duck? I'd love to know. Is it..."
Harry would have sworn, that if a duck could leer, Malfoy would be doing so.
"... is it something sexual?"
Checking out the Opposition (NC-17, 6,1K), in which Harry and Draco fight (and fuck) after a Quidditch match because Draco is a ~dirty cheat. :D
I will Potter not to look down. It'll be just my luck if the stupid git doesn't know that getting erections when you're fighting is... well, really normal. Normal, and healthy, and really, it means nothing at all. I feel as if I can explain this away, convince him that he'd made a mistake, as long as he doesn't see... Yet the thought of him doing so, of seeing my Quidditch leggings tented and stretched as I know they are, with the unmistakeable shape of my cock straining towards him... it makes me ache.
“Malfoy...” His eyes narrow as he speaks. “You like this. You like it when I've got you like this.” He watches my face, an edgy smile twitching at his lips.
I swallow uneasily, my throat parched. I could have a decent stab at Obliviating him, if I could just get to my wand... I hold his gaze, silently commanding him not to look down... no... no... Potter, no....fuck it, he's going to look.
Be Prepared (NC-17, 3,5K), in which Draco was innocently taking a bath only to wake up with Harry on his lap.
“No! Why are you here, in my lap, with my cock up your arse?”
Potter squirmed. By god, did he squirm, and it made Draco intensely aware that their bodies were joined together. How could this be happening? Potter was stark naked, wet, and impaled on a highly intimate part of Draco. Draco was sure he would have remembered... well, something, some series of events leading up to this, not just suddenly found Potter perching there, with his knees up and his arms hanging self-consciously at his sides.
“Well, I don't know where to begin, really.” Potter looked down as he spoke, and wouldn't meet Draco's eyes. “It's all terribly awkward.”
A Divine Intemperance (NC-17, 4,8K), in which Draco likes to watch, and lord, he's intense!
“No! Why are you here, in my lap, with my cock up your arse?”
What do I like to watch? This: Harry Potter, lying on my bed, his skin pale and perfect against the dark red sheets, his back arched with pleasure. Every muscle taut and defined in the tension of this moment just before orgasm. The drops of perspiration glistening on his top lip, his jaw clenched and the tendons in his neck standing out as he teeters on the edge. His hand, his beautiful hand, moving over his prick; his heavy balls drawn up, his shaft thick and flushed, the head swollen and shining with pre-come.
Aural Gratification (NC-17, 10,9K), in which Harry experiences his first ever M/M romance novel via audio-book! (Narrated by –you know who! Not You-Know-Who, just, you know who. ;))
A thread of self-control somewhere inside Nye snapped, and he lunged at Melford, hardly knowing what he was doing, only knowing that he had to taste that mouth, to call Melford's bluff and end this teasing once and for all. He pressed his mouth against Melford's full, insolent lips in a bruising kiss which took both of their breaths away.
Harry sat bolt upright in bed.
Nye swirled his tongue into his enemy's mouth, using the pent-up frustration of nearly a decade to deepen the kiss with fervour.
Bloo. Dy. Hell.
In return Melford's tongue thrust against Nye's with a contemptuous passion, his hands clutching at Nye's uniform, their breath mingling hotly.
They were kissing!
The narrator was warming to his theme, his delivery becoming more intense, his tongue rolling around the heated words.
Nye gasped with longing as Melford's hands ran under his tunic, the avid caresses setting his skin alight with desire. Nye's hands were still immobile behind his back, his wrists getting numb from the ropes which held him.
And groping! Kissing, and groping, and—
Melford groaned and rolled his hips against Nye's hard length, trapped beneath the stiff material of his Auror uniform.
They were kissing, and groping, and they were hard, and—
Rough Magic (NC-17, 28,2K), in which Draco's magic is wild and Harry is the man to help him ~tame it!
Malfoy watched for a minute, amused, as Harry shifted on the bench, the cascading magic making him squirm. Then he spoke, low and slightly scornful, his eyes fixed on Harry's. “My magic doesn't want your wand, Potter. It wants you.”
Harry felt a shocking rush of arousal. He couldn't quite believe Malfoy had said that. It made his hands shake, and he shoved them quickly into his pockets.
Malfoy sat, looking quite at ease, a half-smile pulling at his lips. His mouth looked the only soft thing in his sharp face, full and generous. Harry wondered how it would feel, how it would taste, if he were to—
Millicent called over from under the oak. “I don't know how long you think I can sit and watch this eye-fucking for, but you've got less than ten minutes left.”
Taking Advantage (NC-17, 3,6K), in which Draco magically—Literally!—appears on Harry's bed, tied and naked.
And – Harry swallowed – oh, god, Malfoy was hard. Draco Malfoy was tied up naked on Harry's bed, looking as if he was really enjoying the experience. Well. That was confusing, actually, because while Malfoy's cock looked bloody ecstatic – long and flushed a deep pink and straining up towards the ceiling – Malfoy himself looked as if he could take it or leave it.
“Well, this is sort of awkward,” Malfoy said.
“Gnnngg,” was all Harry's brain could come up with at short notice.
“What took you so long, Potter? I've been waiting here for at least ten minutes.”
“Wha—? Uh? Gnnngg.” Harry's tongue felt thick and floppy and apparently didn't want to do anything sensible at all.
O Sinners, Let's Go Down (NC-17, 32,6K), in which Harry runs into Draco all the way in Suffolk, who is now a deacon and is waiting for ordination as a priest.
Harry looked up in surprise to see Malfoy before him, holding the chalice. The rest of his face gave little away, but his eyes burned with mocking laughter. All Harry could think of was how it felt to kneel before Malfoy. His erection was delighted about the situation, rubbing against the seam of his jeans, and the taunting look in Malfoy's eyes did nothing to change matters. In fact, his cock seemed to think that this was a highly desirable state for Harry to be in: kneeling, hard, furious and slightly humiliated. Malfoy gestured with the cup and Harry's mouth opened obediently. Malfoy eyes flared again with the heat that Harry had seen earlier, but instead of pressing the cup to his lip, he merely touched Harry's forehead as the priest had done.
His fingers lingered just for a moment. It was the merest brush of skin on skin but to Harry, it felt like the touch of a flame to a bundle of kindling.
“The blessing of Christ,” Malfoy said, his voice low and intimate, like a lover's promise. The incendiary mixture of the sacred and the profane made Harry want to whimper. The whole thing had taken only a few seconds, but it was enough to make Harry's erection rage in his jeans as Malfoy moved on and Harry stood up, awkwardly. As Malfoy offered the cup to the next person, his sleeve fell open and Harry again saw the narrow shape lurking beneath.
One Night at the Leaky (PG-13, 12,4K), in which Harry accepts a drunken dare and his prize is a date with Draco or keep his broom. The thing is, Draco's trousers are driving Harry mad. :D
Malfoy leaned back and posed, his hands on the arms of the chair as he crossed one long, long leg gracefully over the other. “Am I not to your liking, then?” he asked. His voice was light, but Harry got the impression he did actually want to know the answer. “I was quite enjoying the idea of being the reward for some daring deed or other.”
Harry swallowed. “It's not that... I mean...” He looked around for help. “You're... great. If you like tall, slim, blond, posh blokes.”
“Which you totally do, Harry,” Ginny said.
This was bloody impossible. “Malfoy wouldn't date me, anyway,” Harry said lamely, and that was far closer than he'd meant to go towards admitting that it was something he'd consider himself.
Malfoy's legs were wide apart, one ankle resting on the knee of the other leg. He looked sly and a little dangerous, and he spoke quietly, as if confiding something for Harry's ears alone. “Oh, Malfoy definitely would.”
I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor (NC-17, 27,9K), in which Harry goes to his first-ever gay bar. And has a most unexpected encounter.
Then the boy opened his eyes and looked directly at Harry, and, sweet Merlin, it fucking was Malfoy. There was no doubt about it. Harry felt the truth of it like a punch in the gut. Malfoy met Harry's gaze, his eyes widening in surprise for a moment as Harry gaped back at him, and then Harry didn't just see the great wave of bliss which washed over Malfoy's face – he felt it, too. The man still had his hand between Malfoy's legs, squeezing, stroking, and Harry watched helplessly as Malfoy's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth opened in an 'O' of delight.
Fucking hell. Malfoy, standing there, dressed in Muggle clothes that showed off every inch of his angular body, letting another man grope him as if it meant nothing. Letting him do exactly what he wanted to him. It was Draco Malfoy. And Malfoy was coming, having what looked like an pretty fucking intense orgasm pressed against the wall, right there at the edge of the dancefloor. It was... fuck, it was obscene. It was totally obscene, and Harry felt filthy for watching. He didn't understand why he still couldn't look away, even when Malfoy opened his eyes again, clearly still riding the surges of pleasure, and smirked right at Harry as if this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. As if he didn't feel cheap, or shamed, or disgusting at all.
Truth Will Out (NC-17, 4,3K), in which Harry is 'It' in a party at Luna's and the person who finds him has to hide with him until the next person found them. Naturally Draco finds him first. Also, the punch at the party had a little Veritaserum on it, so that conversation is interesting. ^^
Sometimes, when Harry looked over, Malfoy was looking at him, too. Malfoy seemed to look as if Harry was not what he had expected at all. As if Harry was... something unusual to look at. And as if Harry amused him very much. Which he probably did, seeing as how Harry never quite knew what to do with his hands when Malfoy looked at him like that. He had the feeling that he might fall over his own feet, or say something fucking idiotic. So Harry didn't say anything. He just looked, and the more he looked, the more he wanted to look, and there was something unbearable about looking at Malfoy and not being able to touch him, so Harry usually turned away and found something else to do, someone to talk to. Some very interesting or important conversation, so that he couldn't look at Malfoy any more.
Higher and Higher (Temptation) (NC-17, 28,4K), in which (omg) Harry is out on a mission with Curse-Breaker Draco and he puts in a collar that compels him to do whatever Draco tells him.
I could tell him, “Say my name.” That’s what Granger means, and if I do, I’m sure Potter will oblige and say, “Malfoy,” back as easy as pie. But somehow... somehow, between my brain and my lips, the order translates into something different. “Say Draco,” I tell him.
I regret it as soon as I’ve said it, but then that look, soft and happy and thrilled comes over his face again, that look of anticipation and delight, and “Draco,” he says, quiet and shy, the o sound lengthening into a moan, and he drops his head down, panting through it, his shoulders quivering beneath the thin hospital gown.
“Pulse 112,” Granger says. “Again.”
I won’t be so foolish twice. “Say my name,” I tell him, but the reply comes back, “Draco,” once more; this time, a breathy exhalation, his hands clenching in the bedsheet, his face contorted, eyes shut tight.
“Merlin,” Theo says quietly to me, while Potter makes a low crooning sound. “He really gets off on this.” He sounds amused, the bastard, and I feel like throttling him. Nothing about this is funny, for god’s sake. Potter’s chest is heaving, and his hair is sticking to his face, and “117,” says Granger, and I could throttle her, too.
Potter looks up, his eyes unfocused but still a brilliant green. “Do we have to—”
“Again,” Granger says, but she sounds unsure.
I do as she asks, the words flat on my lips. Potter, however, makes my name sound like poetry. He sighs it out, his voice shaking with pleasure. “Draco.” His whole body shudders and he says it again without prompting, “Draco.” His eyes open. Latch onto mine. I can’t swallow. Can’t breathe without an ache catching in my chest. Potter sounds rapturous and I think about how it might feel to hear him say it of his own free will. Somewhere quiet, private. Without Granger and Nott watching and gawping.
Distracted (NC-17, 2,9K), in which Harry tries to resist Draco, "tries" being the operative word here.
“Let me, Harry,” Draco whispered. “Let me,” and there was just something about it, the vivid unashamed need of it, that tugged at Harry’s core. Draco reached for him again, and this time Harry didn’t stop him, just stood there and let him feel Harry swell to full hardness under the warmth and pressure of Draco’s hand.
“Shit,” Harry breathed. Draco smiled, provoking and impossible, and Harry lunged at his mouth, needing to feel Draco’s lips opening under his, wanting to wipe that infuriating smile away.
“I knew you’d come around to the idea,” Draco murmured, his hands busy at Harry’s belt buckle. “You have no idea how hot you are in your uniform. Practically asking for it.”
I have to say, I am sorry I didn't actually do anything (though coding took a while lol), please consider this entry one big IOU for anything and everything you think you can ask me. I do love you though, and I hope it, um, comes through, through quoting your own work. I know, I'm a bit weird. ^^
Much love, Birds! ♥ ♥ ♥