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Fic: Redwood
Jun. 30th, 2012 01:19 pmPairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Draco's friends think his new wand seems awfully familiar, but Draco's positive it's just plain awful.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Crack comedy, terrible innuendo, and use of the phrase “impossibly hard”
Epilogue compliant? EWE
Word Count: ~6k
A/N: A bit of wandfic comedy for you! This is really just a bunch of ridiculousness. Thanks to my prereaders and betas who laughed in the right places as well as corrected approx 93 errors apiece:
sapphirescribe, otta_ff, and fandomhopper.( Read more... )
On his way home, Draco stopped by Pansy's flat in the best corner of Wizarding London.
“Wine,” he demanded upon entry.
“Draco, darling, it's not yet noon. Wouldn't want to let Mummy down, would we?” She tapped her fingernails on the end table beside her chair, a move clearly designed to remind anyone in her presence of her new engagement via the perfect diamond that adorned her finger.
Draco snorted; Pansy's unsteady rhythm—and flushed cheeks—gave her away. “You're still drunk from last night, aren't you?”
“Fuck yes,” she agreed, and summoned her house elf to bring a bottle (no, two) of her favourite Chardonnay (with glasses this time). She shrugged. “Hair of the three-headed dog and all.”
Draco nodded and collapsed into a chair of his own, running his hand over his face and sighing deeply once he had done so.
“Oh, don't be so dramatic, darling. Tell Pansykins all about it.”
“It's bad, Pans.”
“Then you definitely must tell me as soon as possible. I do love it when others have problems.” She trailed her fingers along the edge of her armrest before stopping suddenly. “Wait. Wasn't the ban on D.E. wand purchases lifted yesterday? Did you go to Ollivander's? Let me guess, you ran into Potter while you were there?”
“Hardly. I'm sure he's too busy rescuing orphans and raising misunderstood werewolves for casual shopping ventures to Diagon.”
She shrugged. “It was a reasonable guess. You generally only throw such fits when he's involved.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, you're wrong. I didn't see Potter. In fact, it's much, much worse.” Grimacing, he reached into his bag and pulled out the box holding his new wand. “It's horrifying. I'll never be able to cast in public ever again.”
“Oh gods,” she said horrified. “Is it very small? Draco, darling, spare me the horror of looking. I can't handle anything less than four inches this early in the day.”
He sighed. “There's plenty of length there, I assure you.”
“Thank Merlin,” she said as she opened the box. “I slept with a wizard once who had one that short. It was rather pitiful to see, even if he did manage to use it rather...Oh!” she said, her story entirely forgotten as she saw Draco's new wand for the first time.
Draco sunk into his chair and felt his cheeks redden as she continued to study it.
“Well,” she said finally, looking up at Draco. “I'd have thought you'd have rather liked it.” She pursed her lips and stared at it. “Even if it does angle a bit to the right.”
Draco groaned. “Can't your house elf get here any faster with that wine?”
“It is a bit of a disaster,” she admitted, “But look at the bright side, darling. I can't imagine Potter would want to take this one from you.”
She plucked the wand from the box and ran her fingernail along the length of the pale wood. Draco shuddered.
“Although, actually, now that I think about it, there's a certain resemblance, isn't there?” she said after a moment, staring at it once again as she wrapped her hand around the base.
“Resemblance?” Draco prodded when she fell silent, lost in her thoughts.
“Hmm?” she looked up at him, seemingly surprised to see him still sitting there. “Oh, nothing...I'm sure I'm not remembering correctly. After all, it's been years since I last spied on the Gryffindor Quidditch showers.”
She grinned at Draco's shocked face. “Don't be jealous, darling. We'd have brought you with us but you were always running off to your bed to wank after your matches with Potter.”
“I did no such thing,” Draco protested.
Pansy just laughed and put the wand back in its box, handing it back to Draco as the house elf appeared with the wine. Handing Draco a glass, she relaxed once again in her chair.
“So where's Theo?” Draco asked, taking a sip.
“In the bedroom, waiting for me. Your visit is perfectly timed. I'm testing his self-control at the moment.”
Draco closed his eyes and counted to three. “Pansy, I'll not be used in your sex games.”
She grinned wickedly. “Let's just say that if his palm is covered in an uncomfortable looking violet rash next time you see him, you may assume that his hand is not the only affected area.”
Draco swallowed his revulsion as he gulped the rest of his wine. “I've got to be going. Immediately.” He stood and placed his glass on the table.
“Don't forget to take your new wand. What is it, eight? Eight and a half inches?” she asked slyly.
He ignored her and straightened his robes as he headed to the Floo. “Thanks ever so, Pans.”
“Any time, darling. Firecall next week, won't you? We'll do lunch. And you can tell me all about how you're getting it on with that wand of yours. Oh, dear, did I misspeak? I meant getting on with, of course.”
“Of course,” Draco said dryly as he stepped into the fireplace and called out the location of Zabini's downtown apartment. Perhaps Blaise would have a bit more sympathy for him.
“Circe's tit!”
Draco covered his eyes. “I know.”
Zabini stared at the Draco's new wand, turning it over in his hands. “It's even bigger than—”
“I know!” Draco groaned.
“Thicker too, isn't it?”
Draco nodded.
“Thick, but not too thick, know what I mean?” Zabini smirked at Draco, who proceeded to roll his eyes.
Zabini continued to examine it, studying the unique grain along the underside of the wand. “Redwood?”
Another nod.
Zabini inhaled deeply, the rich smell of the wood filling his lungs. “Fuck,” he breathed, before giving it a final once over.
“Merlin, how long is it?” Zabini asked as he reluctantly handed it back to Draco.
Draco sighed. “Ollivander said it's eight and two-thirds inches. And...” Draco's shoulder slumped and he looked up at Blaise. “Eight and two-thirds, and impossibly hard. What the bloody hell am I going to do with it?”
Zabini shook his head and got up to pour each of them a drink. The amber liquid burned Draco's throat but he welcomed the warmth.
“I was finally able to get a new wand, you know? Ready to get on with it. I put paid my dues, went without magic for the year,” Draco paused to study his glass. “And now this. I'm already a social pariah, and now I can't even cast magic in public. I might as well be a bloody squib!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you talking about?” Blaise interrupted. “This wand is brilliant!”
“Excuse me?” Draco looked up, horrified. “That's not even a wand, it's a disaster!”
“Don't you realize? You've got one beautiful length of wood there. Most wizards would pay trillions of galleons to have such perfection at their fingertips,” Blaise informed him.
Draco snorted. “That may be, but not to use as a wand!”
Blaise just gave a sly grin and took a sip from his tumbler. “So what did Boy Wonder say?”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I showed it to Potter? I haven't talked to him since the trials.”
“Well how'd you get him to model for it then?”
Draco's mouth dropped open then, there was no controlling it. “Why the fuck does everyone keep insinuating that my wand looks like Potter's...”
“Potter's prick? Because it does. That wand of yours is the spitting image of Boy Wonder's scrumptious cock. Why'd you pick it if you didn't know that?”
“I don't—I didn't—wait, what? I didn't choose it, it chose me, you wanker! And how in the hell do you know what Potter's cock looks like?”
Zabini shrugged. “There aren't that many gay wizards in London. Plus, I may have had a look one night in the loo at Poof! Can't blame a bloke, can you? Who hasn't wanted a nice piece of Potter?”
Draco just stared. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Nope. So, have you actually used it yet?” Blaise asked.
Draco shook his head.
“Really? Not even to cast spells?” Zabini smirked.
Draco was confused. “What the bloody hell else would I use it for—oh for fuck's sake! Piss off, Blaise, you're a right bastard, you know that?”
Zabini was laughing too hard to reply, which left Draco absolutely no choice but to down the last of his Firewhiskey and huff off in the direction of the Floo.
“Draco?” Millicent looked confused when Draco stumbled out of her Floo. “Did you...intend to come by?”
“Of course,” he replied, brushing the ash from the sleeves of his robe. “I thought to myself that I really hadn't seen my good friend Millie in a while, so I might as well stop by for a chat.”
“I see.” She frowned at him until she spotted the box in his hand, at which point she brightened considerably. “Well, at least you brought me a gift. I was beginning to think you were only wanting to talk to me because you had another run in with Potter. That's the only time you visit, isn't it? But, I can forgive you that if you've brought a present.”
“Well, I, it's not—” He tried to tuck the box with his wand in it behind his back.
She held out her hand. “Chocolates from Honeydukes?”
“Not exactly,” Draco cringed, and glanced around for something he could transfigure into a gift, even if only temporarily. A paper clip or scrap of paper or even a medium to large sized dust bunny, perhaps.
His eyes lit on a stray elastic band laying on the table. Perfect, he'd whip up a bracelet in no time. If he could just snag it without her noticing, and then slip off to the loo for a moment—
“Ah! Got it, cheers, Draco!”
Taking matters into her own hands, she'd pried Draco's box right out of his hand while he was distracted. He tried to grab it back, but frankly Millicent was both taller and more muscular and more than likely didn't have Firewhiskey in her veins mucking about with her coordination. He didn't stand a chance.
He could barely watch as she tore off the lid. Her eyes opened comically wide as she studied the contents before looking up with a huge grin.
“Oh, thank you, Draco!” She clutched the box to her substantial bosom. “I admit I was surprised. It's not exactly a customary gift, but it certainly makes up for all of the times you blathered my ears off about—”
“Wait, Millie—”
“It's exactly the one I wanted too! It's the most popular model. But still, how did you know?” She leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially. “Daphne told you, didn't she? I'm going to get her!” She broke off in giggles.
“The one you wanted?” Draco was confused. “Did you go wand shopping too? I didn't realize yours had been confiscated.”
“Wand shopping? No, why would I do that? I've mine right here,” she said, tapping the pocket of her wand.
“But then why would you want—?”
“Because it's modelled after Potter's, of course.”
“What are you talking about? Potter's is holly and phoenix feath—Oh gods, Mill, no... that's not a...that's...I know it looks like—but—No...It's actually, well, it's my new wand.”
She looked up, her forehead creased. “What do you mean, exactly? Your...wand? It's not a...It's...it's not my gift?” Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Draco. You tell me right now.”
“It's my new wand, all right?” he huffed. “It's a wand. Definitely a wand. Not a—well, not anything besides a wand. And I hate it. But it chose me. What was I supposed to do?”
She glared at him. “And it's just pure coincidence that it looks like Potter's—“
“Entirely coincidental, yes,” Draco confirmed.
“Well then why were you going to give me your new wand? That's a terrible gift!'
“I didn't mean to... I, well, I left your gift at home by accident. I’ll have to Owl it to you.” Draco sighed. He'd just purchase something later that day and send it. “Can I have my stupid wand back now?”
Millicent looked down at the beautiful wood in her hands and bit her lip. “No?”
“Haha, you're very humorous. Now c'mon, stop playing around.” Draco held out his hand.
“No,” she repeated, more firmly this time, clutching the box firmly.
“Millie.”
“No. I...like it.”
“C'mon! Give it back!” Draco swiped for it, but she held it up above her head and out of reach.
“No! I want it!” she yelped as Draco tried to pull down her arm. “Besides, you said you hated it.”
Draco sighed. “I do, but it's my coc—wand. My wand. Now, please?”
Millicent shook her head firmly then, laughing, ran off to her bedroom and locked the door—taking the wand with her, and leaving a stunned Draco in her dust.
“Draco, my little dragon, what happened? Were you hexed in Diagon?” Narcissa looked on, horrified, as Draco limped from the Manor Floo some time later that afternoon. His robes were in tatters, he had a lengthy scratch across his right cheek and one elbow had been spelled to bend backwards.
Worse still, while he'd eventually taken Millicent's door from its hinges and regained possession of his wand, the wand's box hadn't survived the mayhem. Of course he'd carefully tucked the wand into his robes so his mother wouldn't see it when he got home, but what mother wouldn't want to see her little dragon's new wand? Still, Draco tried his best to convince her otherwise. “It's nothing special. Really. Plain old redwood,” he said, patting his pocket as he tried escape to his bedroom to heal his cuts and lick his wounds.
“Well, let me see,” his mother said, reaching for the arm of his robe before he could move past her.
Draco hesitated.
“What's the matter? Are you certain you weren't hexed?” She motioned to the sitting room. “Would you like to talk about it, my little dragon? I'll get the elves to bring us tea.”
Knowing there was no possible way to hide it from her forever, Draco gave in and, blushing furiously, took it from his pocket and handed it to her.
Narcissa's eyes widened as she stared at it, her lips pursed.
After some seconds of silence, during which Draco very much wanted to be swallowed up by the floor, she finally spoke.
“And this wand chose you?” Her voice was strained. “You didn't choose it?”
“Gods, mother, no! You think I chose it?”
“Well, my little dragon—actually, you aren't so little any more, are you?—it's just that it's a tad fitting, isn't it?”
“Fitting? You mean, because I'm gay, you think I'd choose a wand shaped like a...” Draco trailed off, unable to utter the word in front of the woman who'd sent house elves to teach him of the birds and bees the day after he turned 17.
“No, Draco,” she corrected. “Not because you're gay. Because it's shaped precisely like Potter's willy.”
“Well, I didn't choose it!” Draco stomped his foot, startling a nearby house elf and rattling his mother’s china display.
He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. “Besides, Mother, how in Merlin's name do you know what Potter's...what Potter looks like?” he asked in a low voice.
Was Draco the only wizard who'd not at least had a glimpse of Boy Wonder's bits? Gods, even his mother had seen. It wasn't fair!
She looked surprised at the question. “He was the centrefold in the March issue of Wicked Witch magazine. I thought everyone knew that. It was very tasteful. Would you like to see? I have a copy in my night table. Proceeds to charity, of course.”
Draco shuddered and declined the disturbing offer. He might be dying to take a look—purely to mock any and all inadequacies, of course—but he'd buy it in London or order it anonymously and have it delivered in discreet packaging via Rush Owl, not borrow his mother's copy.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, counting to three before opening them again to address his mother. “I'll pass, thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like my wand back.”
“Of course, my little dragon,” she said, handing it back.
“I'm going to use it to heal my cuts,” he clarified. “When I go to my rooms.”
“Of course you are.”
“And to repair my robes,” he said, his mouth still moving on its own accord. “And maybe make my hair a bit shinier.”
Narcissa nodded.
“Nothing else though,” Draco insisted, tucking his wand into his pocket. “Only wand-related things.”
“As would only be proper,” Narcissa nodded.
“Right.”
“Good.”
“All right.”
“Draco? Run along, darling. You'll want to clean up before you go meet Potter.”
“I'm not going to meet Potter. Who said I was going to meet Potter? Why would you think that?”
“Because I'm your mother. Now hurry, and you can catch him at The Leaky Cauldron with his mates after work.”
“I've no interest in socializing with those twits.”
“Of course not. Now go, hurry up, little dragon. And wear your charcoal grey robes with the dark edging.”
“Mother, I've no idea what you're--”
She raised an eyebrow.
He spun with a dignified huff and headed off to his rooms. Not that he was going to meet Potter, of course. But if he felt like a drink at The Leaky after the day he'd had, well that would be completely reasonable. It would not be at all tied to the heavy wand pressed against his leg in his robe pocket, nor its resemblance to a certain Boy Wonder's bits.
Draco strode down the crowded city streets, his distinctive wand hidden away in his pocket and his chin held high. He was going to meet Millicent for a pint after a quick stop at Flourish and Blotts, where he'd picked up a gift for her—he could take a hint, and he was certain she'd appreciate the latest edition of Twelve Fail-safe Ways to Charm Witches—and a certain issue of Wicked Witch for himself.
A few minutes late already, he hurried along. He was almost at The Leaky when he felt a strange and unexpected tingling sensation in his left foot. Looking down, he realized the laces of his boot had become untied. Such a childish hex, he thought, sighing as he looked around. He quickly found the culprit—a little brown-haired boy was glaring at him from across the street as his mother ignored him to fuss with a baby in a pram. Catching Draco's eye, the boy mouthed a few words and then waved his wand in Draco's direction once again. Sure enough, Draco felt the tingle in his other foot and his other boot became similarly undone.
Draco scowled. He didn't want to pull his wand out in retaliation, and talking to the mother would hardly be worth it; the mothers always felt Draco deserved whatever mischief their children had thought up. He'd just have to ignore it this time, he decided. It wasn't worth more than that.
Turning abruptly, Draco quickly stepped off the main path and into a corner where he knelt down to retie his laces.
Except that they wouldn't tie.
Neither the right, nor the left; no matter how many times he tried to loop one bunny ear 'round the other, they refused to knot.
Bloody hex.
Draco decided to find that irritating child's mother after all. No one made him look foolish, and walking around with laces undone, well, it was almost as bad as walking around with a nest of messy black hair and wrinkled robes like Potter always did.
He was heading back to the spot where he'd last seen the child when another wizard stepped on one of his laces, causing Draco to trip over his loosened boot. With an undignified “Oof!” he landed sprawled across the pavement, one shoe coming off entirely and his belongings scattered every which way on impact.
“Fuck!” he yelled at the ground, pinching his eyes shut and banging his head against his scraped arm. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!”
“Malfoy?” a familiar voice asked.
“FUCK!” Draco said it again as he instantly recognized the voice. He looked up. Seven hells, Potter stood before him, taking in the scene.
As he scrambled to his feet, Draco worked on formulating his best insult yet—likely something about Potter's hair, his Muggle loving tendencies, and his general git-like nature, all in one go—while entirely ignoring the fact that he was only wearing one boot, as his other was back two strides where it had slipped off his foot. Except Potter wasn't even watching him.
Instead, Potter's attention remained focused on the ground. And not on Draco's stockinged foot.
He followed Potter's gaze.
FUCK.
Draco's book for Millie had landed to the left, its fancy wrappings torn.
His copy of Witch Weekly had landed a bit further away. And because the world had never been kind to Draco, the magazine had opened to the centrefold, where Potter's image winked and blew kisses while unfastening the buttons of his Auror uniform.
And his wand, gods, his wand. It had popped out of his robes and was right there in the open for all to see, nearly nine inches of thick, impossibly hard, red wood.
Draco swallowed, his face instantly aflame.
He blinked at Potter, who, Draco realized, stood flanked by a shocked Headmistress McGonagall on one side and a delighted Weasel on his other.
And exactly what was he supposed to do now? Draco could think of only one solution.
He quickly stepped out of his remaining boot, turned his back to Potter, and ran.
“Go away!” Draco huffed from behind the locked door that separated his suite of rooms from the rest of the Manor. He was pouting about his recent humiliations, something that would likely continue for several hours at least. Draco's practised method of recovery from such embarrassments was both detailed and lengthy, and involved no small amount of scotch.
But while his mother generally knew from experience not to bother him during this process, there she was knocking at his door. For the third time. He'd had enough. “Mother, I asked you to please leave me be. Your little dragon is simply not in the mood to—”
“Malfoy?” a male voice called through the door. “Malfoy? It's Potter. Er, Harry. Harry Potter.”
“You're not Mother. What've you done with Mother?” Draco scowled at the locked door.
“She's not here. Well, she's somewhere, I'm sure. She showed me to your door here and suggested I knock. I came by to drop off your book and your magazine and your, er, your—well, I have your things then, don't I? You just left them on the street.”
“Go away. I don't want them,” Draco said petulantly.
“And what, exactly, am I to do with them? You know what? Never mind. It's fine. I'll just leave them here outside your door. I don't know why I expected you to be anything other than a total prat anyway.”
Draco glared at the door until he judged Potter was gone. Stalking over to it, he threw it open to retrieve his belongings and sure enough, there was a neat little stack of his things in his doorway.
But they weren't alone. Next to the little pile was Potter, who just stood there, smirking as he leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. Instead of leaving as Draco had asked, he'd just stood there waiting, looking all wrinkled and messy and handsome right there in Draco's hallway.
Draco narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you'd like a thank you. It wasn't enough to see me sprawled out on the pavement, was it? Well, I won't give you one. You didn't even bring back my boots.”
“I did, actually. Your mother gave them to the elves to repair. Did you know your laces were cursed?”
“Oh were they? I hadn't noticed,” Draco replied dryly. “Fine, thank you for bringing back my things. I'm ever so glad to get my bloody wand back. Now please go. A house elf will show you out.” He picked up the items off the floor.
“Your wand?” Potter scrunched up his forehead. “I don't—wait—that's a wand?”
Draco rolled his eyes and cast a quick Reparo on the gift wrappings of Millicent's book. “See, Potter? Wand.”
Harry smirked. “You do realize it looks like—”
“Your cock. Yes, Potter. Just like your perfect prick. Thanks ever so for bringing that up,” Draco interrupted. Gods, the Boy Wonder was a bit cocky, wasn't he? Then again, if Draco had bits like Potter's, he might be too, he conceded.
Potter looked alarmed. “Wait, mine? It looks like mine? No way. Give it here. I wanna see!”
Draco stuck the wand in his pocket, ignoring him. “Everyone else seems to think so. A perfect replica, or so I'm told. Apparently you're quite the exhibitionist.” He fanned through the pages of Witch Weekly in front of Potter's nose.
Harry smirked, still leaning casually against the door frame. “It was for charity.”
“Mmmhmmm.”
“It was.”
“Sure.” Draco turned and went inside, tossing the items onto the edge of his bed.
Harry followed, stepping up rather close to Draco. “Well then, what'd you think?”
Draco held his gaze, Potter's eyes greener than ever at such close range. “Think of what?”
Potter gestured at the bed where the magazine lay.
“Well I don't know then, do I? Seeing as I dropped the copy I purchased earlier today, the one which you so kindly returned just a moment ago.”
“Too bad,” Potter replied, watching Draco's throat as he swallowed in response.
Potter turned away, stepping over to the window, Draco's gaze on him as he went.
“It's just that the wand looked so right in your hand,” Harry said after some moments, his face unreadable as he looked out the window.
Two could play this game, Draco thought, grabbing the wand and stepping up behind Potter. “Is that right? Did you like seeing my hand wrapped tightly around the base of that beautiful length of wood?”
Harry sucked in a breath. “Beautiful?”
Draco paused. In the past, he'd have insulted Potter, but he couldn't seem to formulate the cutting words. So instead, he offered up the one that fell most easily from his lips. “Gorgeous,” he whispered.
Harry spun around, close, so close to Draco. “Yeah?”
Draco nodded.
“Ron would kill me if I kissed you, you know,” Potter said.
“If you're thinking about Ron right now, perhaps it's best that you refrain—mmmfhphnmph.” Draco's words were lost when Potter's lips closed in on his.
Draco smirked at the flush that covered Potter's cheeks when they pulled apart, suddenly very glad that the wand had insisted on belonging to Draco. In fact, Draco had a bit of an idea... He began running his hand over the thick wood of his wand, delighting in just how wide Potter's eyes got in response.
Adopting his best pout, Draco raised the wand to his lips, running the length of it along them, humming in pleasure as he did so. Draco could see Harry's fingers flexing, dying to reach out as he watched.
Licking his lips, he began stroking the wand, delighting in Potter's soft moan.
“Gods, Draco,” Harry murmured as he gazed at Draco's hand as it continued to stroke the redwood.
Deciding Harry'd been tortured enough, Draco laughed and lifted the wand, aiming it at the door to cast a locking spell.
“Fuck,” Harry said breathlessly as thick spurts of white magic erupted from the end of the wood while the door swung shut and locked tightly.
Draco grinned and kissed Potter again, though when Potter pulled back afterwards, he looked at Draco thoughtfully. “I think that I'd rather you not use that wand. At least not in public. If it's as similar to my, er, well... as similar as you say.” He cleared his throat.
Draco frowned. “What would you have me do, Potter? Do you think that I chose the wand? I tried nearly every other wand in Ollivander's shop. None of the others worked at all. Trust me, I'm not eager to share you with the world every time I cast a spell.”
Harry grinned and reached into his pocket. “Would this help?” He pulled out two wands: his own and Draco's original hawthorn wand.
Draco scowled. “You still had my wand? You could've returned it sooner, you know.”
Harry shrugged. “Today was the first day the ban was lifted. I was going to bring it by this weekend.”
“I suppose,” he acquiesced, taking it from Harry. Giving it a swish, he felt his magic swirl about happily, eager to once again have its rightful outlet in the familiar hawthorn. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Potter.”
Harry reached out and took the other redwood one from Draco. He studied it for a moment, turning it over in his hand. “An exact replica, you say? Perhaps you should keep this wand.” He looked at Draco, who raised an eyebrow.
“Just for... fun.” Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Don't you think we could have...fun...with this wand? Just imagine the possibilities.”
Draco snorted. Taking the wand back from Harry, he tossed it onto the bed, and then pulled Harry up against him. “But for now, I think I'd like to take advantage of the real thing.”
“Brilliant,” Potter breathed, pushing Draco back onto the bed and falling on top of him.
Draco landed on top of the redwood wand, laughing at the feel of the length of it pressing against his arse as Harry ground his hips against Draco's from above.
Yes, Draco though, wriggling against Harry's various wands, definite possibilities indeed.
Fic: Said and Done (25/25)
Feb. 8th, 2012 05:03 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 25: Epilogue
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Fic: Said and Done (24/25)
Feb. 8th, 2012 04:45 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 24: Break
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Fic: Said and Done (23/25)
Feb. 8th, 2012 04:26 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 23: Risk vs. Reward
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Fic: Said and Done (22/25)
Feb. 7th, 2012 04:06 pm
Said and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 22: Dip and plunge
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Fic: Said and Done (21/25)
Feb. 6th, 2012 03:44 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 21: A first time for everything
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Fic: Said and Done (20/25)
Feb. 5th, 2012 03:25 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 20: You hear my beat, I hear your Bach
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Fic: Said and Done (19/25)
Jan. 25th, 2012 07:40 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 19: Pulse points
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Fic: Said and Done (18/25)
Jan. 24th, 2012 07:29 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 18: JSPR WNTS DWRD
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Fic: Said and Done (17/25)
Jan. 23rd, 2012 07:19 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 17: Ups and downs, ins and outs
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Fic: Said and Done (16/25)
Jan. 22nd, 2012 06:50 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 16: If at first you don't succeed
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Fic: Said and Done (15/25)
Jan. 21st, 2012 06:38 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 15: Past, present, and future tents
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Fic: Said and Done (14/25)
Jan. 20th, 2012 06:25 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 14: Encore
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Fic: Said and Done (13/25)
Jan. 19th, 2012 06:12 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 13: Sighs, sneezes, gasps, and groans
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Fic: Said and Done (12/25)
Jan. 18th, 2012 06:00 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 12: Roles and responsibilities
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Fic: Said and Done (11/25)
Jan. 17th, 2012 05:52 pm
Said and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 11: The spy who loved me
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Chapter 11: The spy who loved me
"Cullen. Edward Cullen," I practiced saying in my best Bond voice while Rosalie stole my baby's innocence.
She emerged from under my Volvo a few moments later.
"There, all set," Rosalie said as she wiped her hair off her face and slammed shut the hood.
"Ummm... was that really necessary?" I asked.
My siblings were taking my Jasper-surveillance training a bit more seriously than I'd hoped, and Rosalie had just finished the last of her "tweaks" to my poor car.
I wasn't sure how the new ejector seats, anti-aircraft missiles, a homing device, a self-destruct mechanism, and the ability to transform into a submarine were necessary for following Jasper around campus, but Rosalie hadn't asked my opinion in the matter.
"Edward, it's the best I could do with a Volvo. Now, I didn't give you a car phone, so just keep your cell on you at all times and you should be set. Too bad we're still a few years away from a reasonably-functional adaptive camouflage," she sighed.
"Yeah, too bad," I agreed, rolling my eyes. My break was over; it was time to return to Alice's room where she had already begun working on the next phase of my transformation into a first-class spy.
I left Rosalie admiring her work, and headed inside.
XXXXX
"My god! What is it with you and makeup?" Emmett asked as he entered Alice's room a little while later.
"It's her fault," I said, pointing at Alice.
"Dude. Not okay. How many times do I have to tell you?" he asked.
"Yeah, Alice, come on. The rest of this is enough already, don't you think?" I said, motioning around me at the piles of new wigs, false mustaches and beards. There were enough facial hair pieces on the floor for my beards to have beards. "I don't need to wear makeup again!"
"That's exactly right," Emmett agreed emphatically. "You do not."
"But Jasper will recognize you if you don't!" Alice whined.
I sighed for the 56th time that day. Alice had put herself in charge of my disguises, should I need them to be able to follow Jasper around unnoticed. Apparently she didn't trust my innate ability to run faster than humans could see.
And even more unfortunately, she felt the need to show me how to apply makeup to further conceal my identity, not believing my new hair pieces and new wardrobe items to be sufficient. And speaking of new wardrobe items, if I was going to have to dress differently, I was hoping she'd at least toss in a few Bond-esque suits or maybe shoe-phones. But no such luck. Judging by the clothing she'd chosen, she seemed to think I'd have more luck masquerading as various Village People.
Thankfully, Emmett seemed to disagree with Alice, as he yanked me from her grip and pulled me toward the front door to begin the next phase of my training.
XXXXX
When I reached the front yard, Emmett greeted me with the spray from our water hose, which he'd turned up full blast and aimed directly at my face.
I glared at him, but before I could threaten bodily damage he had turned it off and put it back behind the house.
"Waterproof mascara, my ass," he muttered as I wiped the remains of Alice's work on the sleeve of the hideous orange flannel shirt she'd outfitted me in.
After I was fairly certain all traces of the offensive substances were removed from my skin, I looked up at him.
"Much better," he affirmed. "Now we can begin 'Operation Shaken, Not Stirred.' "
And with that, we proceeded to practice leaping small trees, sneaking up on forest creatures, scaling rocky cliffs one-handed, all before heading out to the ocean for some swimming, as Emmett claimed I needed work on my breast stroke.
After swimming, we returned home and Emmett handed me a scarf covered in a delightful pattern of Sesame Street characters. He then squatted next to a mountain of snowballs stored carefully behind a wall of ice and snow he must have built earlier. It was apparently my job to run through the woods and let him hurl snowballs at me while I was blindfolded. Apparently this would allow me to practice ducking behind trees, and running between bushes unseen while dodging rapid-fire ice chunks aimed at my head.
And finally, we ended with an intense game of tag, though I suspect it had little to do with my training and that Emmett just wanted us to take turns chasing each other.
And after all of that, I dismissed myself from my training session, waving off Carlisle who evidently wanted to talk, so that I could shower and head to Jasper's.
It was Jasper's last night in his house before heading back to campus, and damned if I wasn't going to be in his pine tree enjoying the view.
The remainder of my secret agent spy training would wait another day. Tonight was ours. Or, at least, it was mine, because technically Jasper wasn't aware of my presence.
When I arrived at his house, I quickly scaled the evergreen and perched on the branch where I had sat and, well, almost done other things as well just a few days prior. I shook my head in disapproval for the actions I'd nearly taken here in this very tree. Jasper hardly deserved for me to defile his property like that.
I vowed yet again to never give in to my baser instinct in such a way again. After all, I'd gone 90 years without touching myself in such a way, so I could surely go another 90. The problem was, of course, that I would live far longer than that, and well, it had crossed my mind that the experience wasn't all that unpleasant. But, well, I'd just have to cross that bridge in 2099 or so. Until then, it was hands off.
It was dusk and Jasper had turned on the light in his bedroom, so I had a clear view of his activities. Apparently he was packing his things to return to campus. I admired his resourcefulness and solid planning as he rolled his clothes and expertly packed them into his duffel bag. I watched as he put his jeans in, and then some shirts, and then a sweater or two, and then—Hey, wait! That was my sweater he had in his hands!
Except I must have actually said the "Hey!" part, because he glanced out the window in my direction. To avoid being seen, I quickly dropped down a limb or two where I was more concealed among the branches but still had a decent view of the bedroom. I settled into my new space in time to hear him mutter "some loud-ass squirrel" before he went back to work. I watched as he lifted the sweater gingerly and smelled it... and was he? Why yes, he was. He was smiling. Well, I really liked the sweater, so I wasn't surprised that he did too.
Soon, he continued, tossing in balled socks, a few undershirts and then finished by folding several pairs of boxers and adding them to the bag. I decided then that you could learn a lot about a man by his choice of underwear. I wondered what mine said about me? I crinkled my nose, deciding at that moment to begin doing more of my own clothes shopping so my boxer selection resembled a bit more of my own taste instead of Esme's.
I watched as Jasper zipped up his bag and added it to another he must have packed earlier in the day. He then pulled out his laptop and sat on his bed and began to boot up the machine. I had to climb up a branch or two and move a bit further to the right to get a good enough angle to be able to see the screen clearly. But eventually I found a spot and watched as Jasper logged in, using the password "RidemCwb0y."
And my family thought I needed spy training. Ha! Five minutes with him, and I already had his computer password.
I watched as he called up Firefox and opened Google. He typed "vam" into the search bar, and in response it called up a list of terms from which he selected "vampires." Evidently this was not the first time he Googled the word. And judging by the websites he called up, it was also not the first time he'd been reading content that was largely, if not completely, incorrect about our kind.
I began to wonder what other misleading information he was reading, when he returned to the Google homepage.
But before he entered another search term he disappeared from his room for a few minutes. I listened carefully as I heard him wander to another part of the house, then I heard the running water and smelled the mint that indicated he was brushing his teeth. And then a few minutes later he returned to his bedroom wearing pajama pants... and little else. I watched him pad barefoot and bare-chested across his room and place his worn clothes in a neat pile in the corner.
But I couldn't concentrate on his tidiness because I suddenly realized I was seeing the most beautiful torso I'd ever seen. Ridiculous quantities of long limbs, bare muscles, and nipples (nipples!) stared me in the face.
I drooled a bit of venom before I realized what was happening. Unfortunately, the bit that dropped onto Jasper's tree killed that small section of the branch instantly. I wondered if I should send him a check to pay for the damages.
I turned my full attention back to the scene in front of me, and saw that Jasper was now lying on top of his bed with his laptop on his lap and his head propped up against his headboard. I watched fascinated as he stretched his arms above his head and then brought his hands down to his laptop, wiggling them around before typing: "E
And then he hesitated. For nearly a full minute he sat there drumming his keys on the side of his computer with his eyes closed.
And this was fine with me, because I was able to stare at his chest, which rose and fell slowly, creating an ever-changing landscape on which my eyes could feast. And that flat stomach! I had never seen such delightful angles. I longed to run my hand over the taut musculature.
While lost in my inexcusably lustful imaginings, I felt the angle of my branch shift ever-so-slightly; apparently I'd deadened another area of the limb with more of my venomous drool. I realized my mouth was wide open, so I abruptly shut it and wiped off my chin, though I could not seem to stop the warmth that grew in my stomach.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes and finished typing: "Edward Cullen" before hitting the Enter key.
I knew he'd find nothing on me. There was some silly young adult book character that shared my name and who received so much pop culture attention that Jasper could browse for days before finding anything related to me personally.
Still, he Googled me. It felt... naughty.
The warmth in my stomach grew further and I recognized the now-familiar feeling of my venom rushing to my groin.
So I was hard. So what? That didn't mean I had to do anything about it. I would keep my promise.
I continued to stare at Jasper as I tried to ignore my growing problem. But at one point he raked his fingers across his chest, and I began to realize exactly how uncomfortable my situation was becoming. Still, I was unable to take my eyes off him. As I watched his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his search, I felt myself straining against my clothing.
I became concerned that if I didn't take preventative action I might have big problems. Granted, as a vampire I was incredibly strong, but did that mean my erection was too? I wondered if it could literally rip through my clothing from straining too hard against it. I wished I'd asked Carlisle about that. It's not like Google would have an answer for me either, or I could have looked it up on my iPhone.
Well, the one thing I did know was that I wasn't anxious to run all the way home with the crotch of my jeans in shreds, so I decided it was best not to risk it. I unzipped my pants and lowered my boxers slightly to give myself additional room. But of course I was very careful not to touch anything sensitive in the process. Even with this unfortunate turn of events, namely, my need to commit indecent exposure due to the presence of Jasper's tongue, I was still determined to uphold my vow.
Feeling a bit freer now, I continued to enjoy the personal show Jasper was providing for me.
I soon realized I was further out on the limb than I had previously dared, all in an unconscious effort to be nearer to him, but what can I say? He was magnetic; he just drew me to himself. I was going to enjoy my surveillance assignment, I was certain of it.
While I wanted to risk getting closer still, I was afraid to stand further out on the limb that I had already damaged with my venomous drool. I decided it would be better for the tree limb if I spread my weight a bit by laying down on the branch, and as a bonus, I figured that way I could get even closer to Jasper's window without having to worry about being seen.
This seemed like a good idea, so I quickly lay down on the branch.
I gasped as my erection pressed against the soft, spongy wfood of the evergreen. It felt divine.
But I forced myself to lay perfectly still, not wanting anything to rub against anything else and create that unbelievable friction my body was telling me was absolutely necessary.
Mind over matter, Edward. Mind over matter.
I glanced up at Jasper, who was still poring through the Google search results. From this angle I could now see how his golden hair was practically glowing as the lamplight shone through it. And his scent, oh, his scent! And then I had a new appreciation for the slope of his chest as it moved into his stomach and how the latter then flowed seamlessly into the harsher angle of the top of his hips. His hips, of course, were largely covered by his pajama pants as was his—I whimpered and bucked my hips uncontrollably against the tree limb—his crotch.
Sweetmotherofallthingsholy,thatfeltgood,canIdoitagainplease?
And apparently not only was I unable to control my own hips, but my mind was beyond my grasp as well, because after a single glance at Jasper's groin, I was able to determine he was naked beneath those thin pajama pants.
A quick glance at his pile of clothing confirmed he had removed a pair of boxers when he was in the bathroom. And then I realized that he must have been naked just a few feet from me while he changed.
And so what if my hips slid a bit along the branch a few times, causing me to whimper while I came to that conclusion? I realized my initial vow had probably been made in such haste that it ought to be reconsidered. I really should have added a clause that stated that all absolutely uncontrollable actions, even if potentially masturbatory in nature, were permissible under certain extreme conditions.
That settled, I tried to remain as still as I reasonably could while I watched Jasper. As it turns out, this was not terribly still at all. I had to bite back more than one moan as my eyes continued feasting on Jasper and the pressure in my abdomen mounted as my crotch delighted in a little wood on wood action.
After a just a few minutes more, Jasper seemed to give up on Googling me. He closed his browser abruptly and ran his fingers through his hair while looking decidedly frustrated while he waited for his computer to shut down. After it did, Jasper climbed under his covers and reached over to turn out the light.
I then discovered that seeing Jasper asleep was no less pleasurable than watching him while he was awake. I rather liked his unconscious shifts and the light sighs he emitted at odd intervals.
His eyes fluttered, my hips jerked uncontrollably.
He rolled onto his back, I pressed my thighs into the tree limb.
His hair fell in his eyes, I rubbed against soft wood.
He licked his lips, I thrust into the branch.
It went on this way for a while until he actually moaned softly in his sleep. The sound cut through me and trailed a hot blaze down into my now-painful erection. A final buck of my hips and I came, emptying my poison into the slight divot I'd created thrusting into the tree limb.
And that's when I heard the branch begin to crack under my weight, my poison incinerating the tree's cells, killing and weakening the already-damaged wood. Horrified, I scrambled back to the tree trunk before the branch could fully snap, which it did mere seconds later.
The cracking sound must have woken Jasper, who jolted upright and muttered something like "what is it with the fucking squirrels around here?" before yawning, laying down once again, and finally drifting off to sleep once more.
I stood motionless against the tree trunk, mortified with my actions. I'd done exactly what I'd sworn I would not do, not to mention the fact that I'd damaged someone else's property, and woke Jasper from his well-deserved sleep.
It wasn't until long after I was confident Jasper was again fast asleep, that I dared to move. I hurriedly pulled up my boxers, zipped my pants, jumped to the ground, and took off running toward home. I was quite sure I'd already far overstayed my welcome.
After Edward left the house, Emmett visited Alice's room and under the pretense of being helpful, offered to carry all of Edward's new disguises (e.g., clothing, makeup, and hairpieces) to his brother's room for him. With eyebrow raised, Alice showed Emmett the pile, and he quickly picked up the items and left his sister's room, avoiding her disbelieving gaze.
It turns out Alice was right to be skeptical, because instead of taking the supplies to Edward's room, Emmett took them to his own. After closing the door to his room, Emmett locked it behind him, which was technically unnecessary because Rosalie still wasn't getting anywhere near him and his fucking cock and hairy-ass balls thanks to his indiscreet text message, and if she had wanted to, the lock on their door would have done absolutely no good anyway.
Regardless, Emmett locked the door and sifted through the pile of disguises until he pulled out the small makeup kit Alice had included for Edward. Emmett hesitated, undeniably curious about the cosmetics. After all, both his sisters and Esme wore the stuff, and now Edward did too, apparently. What exactly was the draw?
He decided to find out. He emulated the way Rosalie applied the stuff, mimicking the order she used and choosing colors complimentary to his skin tone. He started with a light coating of foundation before moving to powder, and eye liner. Then came the mascara, which he applied in multiple coats with his mouth opened wide, before curling his lashes carefully. Then he sucked in his cheeks while he applied the blush, and finally moved to the trio of taupe eye shadows. And last but not least, he chose a stunning crimson lip color that he applied liberally to pursed lips before blotting them twice on a tissue. And then he was finished, so he looked in the mirror, and studied the impressive effects the makeup had on his skin, softening his features and bringing out the gold flecks in his eyes.
And then he realized that he was actually a man, so he quickly jumped out the window and ran around the side of the house to get the same garden hose he'd used on his brother so he could remove the evidence of his experimentation.
But if there was anyone who could recognize the sounds of a mascara wand running through delicate lashes, or the delicious scrape of an eye liner pencil against an eyelid, it was Alice. So she simply met Emmett outside, turning on the hose full blast in preparation for his arrival. When he rounded the corner of the house, he was met first by the clicking of her digital camera, which snapped photos that she would later place in the Cullen family photo album next to those of Edward spewing Coke bubbles on their front lawn, and then by a stream of water similar in pressure and temperature to the one with which he had hit his brother a few hours prior.
That was the point when Emmett recognized that payback truly was a bitch.
Fic: Said and Done (10/25)
Jan. 16th, 2012 10:04 pmSynopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
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Chapter 10: Helping a brother out
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Fic: Said and Done (9/25)
Jan. 15th, 2012 09:51 pmSaid and done
Synopsis: Graduate students Edward and Jasper feel the connection, but is it enough to overcome their differences? (E/J slash, vamp/human, comedy/romance, rated NC-17)
Click here to reach the SaD Masterpost.
Chapter 9: Easy, breezy, beautiful
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