Title: Rock-a-by Lurve
Author: b.kitten ()
Furniture: Rocking Chair
Rating: R (occasional language and suggestive sexual content. )
Summary: Draco is naive and gets fooled... hee hee.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: This is my first H/D and also my first challenge...be gentle.
I know nothing about the British. In fact, for quite the embarrassingly long time, I was given to the idea that England and Britain were two distinctly different countries, and then thought they were the same country, and lived with this idea until, oh, last year. Luckily, I happened upon the Queen�s Guide to British Language and Culture and learned the horrors of my ignorant ways.
So, any cultural mistakes are not intentional. XD
he first thing Harry did after leaving Hogwarts was buy a rocking chair.
He found it in some old (very old, mind you, old in Wizards� minds) shop that catered to the cheap and eccentric. The aging clerk behind the counter wheezed his sales pitch as if it was with his last breath and Harry found himself nodding off, counting wrinkles like sheep. He managed to wake himself before he impaled his head upon some odd looking candle that looked more like a iron spear topped with a fluffy string point.
The wood was dull and there was more paint chipped off than actually on the rickety thing. It looked like the clerk, wizened, wrinkled and ancient. When he pushed it slightly to set it rocking it creaked and cried, a high-pitched dying moan of protest.
Harry loved it.
It cost him five Sickles and three Knuts. Draco probably would have said that it was five Sickles and three Knuts too many but love was blind and so was Harry.
* * *
The first thing Harry did after buying the rocking chair was put it in his and Draco�s new apartment (bought by Sirius for him as a present; personally, he thought Sirius was getting a little bit too extravagant), amongst the table, two sofas, three rugs, four bookshelves, five lamps, six candles, and seven paintings (again, all Sirius) in the living room.
Did he mention that it was a big apartment?
* * *
The first thing Draco did after walking through Harry�s and his apartment (bought by Sirius, that doting mangy bastard; it pained Draco to admit the mutt�s good taste) was to give a shriek of undeniable horror. Dogs cowered. Alley cats screeched along. And all the glass throughout the Wizarding community may have cracked just a smidge at the sound.
With eyes a tad wide, Draco walked straight towards his green-eyed, uncombed, rather blind and fashion -challenged arse of a boyfriend. Some might have said he stomped more than he walked but Draco prided himself in having the legendary calm and cool composure of the Malfoys. He stalked with intent, not stomped with childish fury.
�Harry. James. Potter.� Middle names always made carefully enunciated and dramatically paused sentences that much more powerful. �Please tell me that--that wooden piece of shit is here for what might be considered an incredibly heroic action of burning something that may cause all Wizards to be struck blind by the very sight of this thing, a smear to all great (and fashionable) chairs everywhere!�
�It�s not that bad,� Harry protested, poor blind fool that he was.
�Not that bad?� Malfoy�s don�t shriek, really. They just occasionally speak like singing banshees. �I already agreed to keep that-that horribly misshapen and garish neon orange smear of an over-stuffed chair that Weasleys mistakenly called furniture, sacrificing my very own eyes for the sake of the rest of the world�s well-being. And now you want� that?�
Harry sneaked a peek at the Weasleys� present to him, admitting silently that it was a tad bright, maybe even a bit blinding (not that he would ever say that aloud). So Harry decided to tactfully ignore Malfoy�s comment. He didn�t think of it as defeat, but rather a strategic move to an older and more rickety thing.
�I admit,� Harry said loftily, placing a loving hand on the rocking chair, �that it doesn�t quite fit in with what Sirius and the Weasleys (�unfortunately,� Draco muttered, �I�d much rather give that thing back�) but you got to do the bedroom and everything else Sirius didn�t lay a hand on!�
�And the orange smear?�
�That doesn�t count. It was a present and the rocking chair is something I want for myself,� Harry wheedled.
Draco fell silent. He was probably thinking of 101 ways to obliterate the poor old rocking chair, Harry thought sourly. Glancing down at it, Harry took some time and tried to find some positive elements Draco would appreciate. It was an antique, and that meant that it was aged but with style. So the paint was chipped (a lot), that only meant they could re-paint it with flair. And it wasn�t as if it was going to fall apart, even though it looked decrepit. It was sturdy-
A piece fell off. Huh, that wasn�t too good.
Wait.
A piece fell off!
�Potter,� Harry winced at Draco�s dangerously sibilant low tone and the venomous infliction upon the syllables of his last name, �tell me that a piece did not just fall off.�
�Now, now, Draco,� Harry said, moving in front of the chair in a defensive position, �we can fix that.�
Draco glared and that was all the warning Harry needed. The blonde launched himself towards the rocking chair and Harry grappled at his arms, both struggling for control. Draco made a move for his wand but Harry managed to deflect it and sent both their wands spinning away from them. They were still struggling against one another when Harry tripped and Draco automatically flipped the two of them so that he would be the one falling-
And landing.
In the chair.
The rocking chair.
Harry�s rocking chair.
The one that was old, disgusting, and had just lost a piece due to age.
They both grew silent, breath hushed in fearful anticipation to what may happen next. Crashing was expected. But that didn�t happen. The rocking chair just lurched backwards from their combined weight, creaking and moaning as it went.
�See?� Harry whispered victoriously. �It�s not that bad.�
Draco grumbled. He lay sprawled against the wood, tucked into the frame, and he had to admit that the rocking chair wasn�t all that bad when he actually sat on it.
�Alright,� replied Draco with gleam in gray eyes that Harry didn�t trust. �I�ll let you keep it (�Yes!�) on one condition.�
Harry eyed Draco suspiciously.
* * *
The first thing Draco did after agreeing to not harm Harry�s rocking chair was have wild, hot, sweaty gay sex in it.
He found that the rocking movements of the chair added a unique addition to the demanding pace of some good hard loving. When rocking forward, Draco thrust a tad more firmly and when rocking backward, Harry grinded down very pleasantly.
Draco had to admit. This rocking chair was a fucking good buy.