Topgallant : HP : Spooning

Title: The Gratuitous Spooning Ficlet
Archiving: just ask.
Rating: PG-13.
Date: January 7 2004.
Summary: How'd you like to spoon with me?
Notes: This is a belated birthday post for

thessamunga.

because i did not realise it was her birthday, because i don't think i have checked my friends list since last year.

happy birthday yesterday thess!

ten great things about thess. in random, not particular, order.

1) bandaid cures.
2) stick boy icons! <3
3) the sound of music thing.
4) THE ALL CAPS TYPING thing.
5) the thing
6) the cassie thing. <3
7) the webcam thing.
8) the weasley thing.
9) the singing. <3333333
10) =[

muchas gracias to orphne for the beta. :-*

The Gratuitous Spooning Ficlet.

If we were wed our married life
would be one steady honeymoon,
From six A.M. 'til twelve o'clock at night
Why all we'd do is spoon.
How'd you like to spoon with me?
(I'd like to!)
How'd you like to spoon with me?
(Well rather!)
How'd you like to be my lovey dovey
How'd you like to spoon with me?

--Edward Laska & Jerome Kern

Harry waited all day for Draco to remember his birthday. By the end of the day his shoulders sagged and he was pissy and tired of waiting. It had been a long day at the office, and when the workload got too tiring he would take himself away by closing his eyes and imagining that the next time the phone rang he would hear Draco's voice on the other end, saying hello in his smooth baritone, the ends of all his words curving up like the smile Harry couldn't see.

By 5:45 all he wanted to do was go home and collapse on the couch. He arrived back at the flat to find an unpromising owl from Draco saying he had to stay late at the lab and would be home in a few hours. Grinding his teeth and stifling his jealousy that the inside of a centrifuge saw more of Draco than he did, he settled in and allowed himself the luxury of taking a nap--as if he were actually as old as he felt.

When he awoke hours later his head was inflamed, his cheeks were hot, the room was pitch dark, and something was wedged tightly behind him between him and the sofa. Still groggy from sleep he gave it a shove with his elbow, in the mistaken belief that it was a pillow.

It gave a startled oof and shoved back before burying a warm face into the crook of Harry's shoulder and biting it.

"The whole 'honey, I'm home' thing would have done just as well," Harry mumbled irritably.

"How do you even know this is me?" said the body behind him petulantly. "Anybody could just crawl onto the sofa with you and you wouldn't even bother to ask for I.D."

"How did you even get there anyway?" Harry shifted, attempting to move forward enough to get away from the clammy feeling of being smushed against Draco, without falling off the couch completely. "I must have been out cold."

"Nah. I apparated."

Harry stilled. "You apparated? Right onto the sofa?"

"Sure."

"Right into that position?"

Draco smirked in response, and Harry wondered how he could be so sure Draco was smirking, there in the pitch dark. "All you have to do is imagine where you want to be and then go there. You know how it works."

The retort in Harry's throat surged into a lump. Where you want to be. In the sparse silence Draco ran his hand over Harry's shoulder and rolled closer. So much for Harry's attempt to get away from the clamminess, but he didn't mind so much really.

"Did--did you get everything done at the lab?" he murmured.

"Mmm." The response was low, hummed through warm lips tucked neatly against his throat. "Yeah, but it was a bitch. Turned out we had the measurements on the chamomile and the rabbit's foot mixed up so we could have kept on trying gradients all day without success. But finally--" Draco paused, and wriggled his arm beneath Harry's side to wrap firmly around his waist. "Anyway. I'm just glad I figured it out when I did. You must have been tired. You were conked out when I got home and didn't stir for half an hour. I was banging things around in the kitchen. You have a ton of owls for some reason. And not fan mail either."

Harry couldn't suppress a laugh. "How do you know?"

"I steal all your fan mail and answer them myself, of course." As Draco slid a hand lazily beneath Harry's shirt Harry shifted higher on the couch to avoid crushing Draco's other arm. He wound up lying half on his back, face tilted up towards Draco, whose clear eyes glittered faintly in the dark.

"Who knows," said Harry. "Maybe they think it's my birthday or something."

"Yeah, right," said Draco, a chuckle in his voice. "The great Harry Potter doesn't have birthdays, he has national holidays." He leaned down and kissed Harry's forehead slowly.

"Also they adjourn sessions of the World Court, don't forget." Harry craned his neck and caught Draco's lips with his own, and suddenly he was smiling, and it didn't matter what fucking day of the year it was.

The next time one of them spoke it was Draco, who rasped, "When is your birthday anyway?"

Harry snuggled closer to him and pulled Draco's arm possessively across his chest. "I'll tell you some other time, when it's nearer," he said, and kissed him again.