Threatening To Love You.

Title: Saved By The Savior.
Author: Pekeleke
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.
Rating: M
Challenge: Written for the adventdrabbles 2021. Prompt #13: Christmas Full Moon
Word Count: 993
Warnings: Explicit Language. Dramatic Draco. Humor.
Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and the HP franchise are owned by JKR and not me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
A/N: Unbeated. Ch 13 of my Christmas Series: Threatening To Love You.
Summary: “You’ll stop hiding behind this potted plant like a frightened virgin this instant, honey-bear. It’s time those old pervs learn that you aren’t single. Your young stud of a boyfriend has a famously twitchy temper and will hex them in the fucking face if they so much as look at you funny.”

Saved By The Savior.

Draco hides behind the strategically placed topiary display he’d insisted on adding at the last minute to the staging design for the Department of Magical Games And Sports soiree, shuddering unhappily as the ‘referee’ goat, who somehow spotted him five minutes ago, stares at him with it’s evil, beady, eyes.

Draco is beyond miserable. He should have bailed out of attending this specific event altogether. Juliet is already present and, since she’d so heartlessly abandoned her handsome boss in favor of Brian, the goatherd, who, although hot indeed, smells like the back -no. Like the middle of a stable- Draco is now attending this blasted party all by his lonesome.

Draco had known that showing up alone was a bad call. Some of the other department heads (the hideous ones who are still single at the age of one hundred because they resemble gothic gargoyles and have the manners to match) become frisky around him whenever alcohol is involved. Draco avoids them like the plague whenever possible and, when it’s not, uses Juliet’s company to deter their advances.

Henderson and Martins have already approached him, pawed his shoulder and arm with alarming familiarity, and attempted to steer him toward the balcony under the uninspired excuse of ‘admiring the first snow of the season.’ Draco had politely but firmly declined both invitations before heading straight for his current hiding spot. He shouldn’t have come. Failing that, he shouldn’t have come alone. He’d wanted to ask Harry to come as his plus-one during their lunch date, but hadn’t had the courage.

Their relationship, if that’s the right name for their two casually-arranged dates and an equal number of knee-weakening snogging sessions, feels too new. Granted, Draco isn’t used to kissing coworkers in the street like a frenzied Doxy, but Harry has magical lips. That’s the only explanation for Draco’s sudden proclivity for public displays of— well, horniness. There’s no other word for it.

The irritating self-sabotaging voice that ultimately ruins all of Draco’s relationships chooses that moment to whisper that maybe Harry’s lips are magical because he regularly kisses coworkers like a frenzied Doxy, and Draco is his latest victim/fling. Draco won’t stay if that’s the case. He doesn’t love lightheartedly.

“Looking good, Sugarplum, although I expected to find you in the middle of the action. Why are you hiding behind the poinsettia display?”

Harry’s unexpected voice makes Draco jump a mile and squeak into the bargain. Turning around, Draco comes face-to-face with the power-couple extraordinaire, Harry Potter and the Weaslette, which Draco supposes explains Harry’s presence here and also fuels Draco’s mounting insecurities regarding their so-called relationship. What could Harry want with pasty, skinny him when he has the Weaslette? Nobody sane would reject her. She’s the most gorgeous witch of their generation.

“Potter. Weasley,” Draco greets them politely, instantly drawing Harry’s frowning attention.

“You alright? I thought we agreed not to do the last name thing anymore, Sunshine.”

“Well. I’m at work, and you’re— otherwise engaged, Harry,” Draco replies primly, “Now, go mingle. It’s indelicate to expect your current companion to entertain the help.”

“You’re not the help, Draco,” Harry huffs, “You’re the head of the bloody department that organized this shindig, and I’ve been dying to introduce the two of you. Ginny is a fan of your work.”

Draco blinks in astonishment at the stunning ginger, “Really? How is that even possible?”

She laughs, swinging a slender arm to indicate the Goat-Quidditch game, “Anyone capable of making that possible for three years running deserves an Order Of Merlin, First Class, for sheer patience. How haven’t you hexed Wiltsford’s pretentious arse yet, Malfoy?”

To Draco’s utter shock, those few words are all it takes for him to decide he genuinely likes the Weaslette, “I’m good at resisting temptation,” Draco replies dryly.

“You definitely are,” Harry says cryptically, and Draco is about to ask what he means when the Weaslette leans forward conspiratorially.

“Rumor has it that Wiltsford is trying to provoke you. Miles Lopinsky says they saw you rip Batterson, from Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, a new one ages ago. Wiltsford fell madly in lust with you then. He’s been trying to catch your attention ever since.”

“I was here first,” Harry growls.

Draco rolls his eyes at Harry’s antics, and turns toward the Weaslette, horrified and amused in equal parts, “Are you implying that the ridiculous Goat-Quidditch games are Wiltsford’s deranged attempt at flirting?”

“That’s what Miles says. You seem to attract the crazies, Malfoy,” The Weaslette says, looking sideways at Harry.

“Wiltsford is seventy-six years old!” Harry thunders, apropos of nothing, and Draco blinks at him uncomprehendingly.

“I know. He was a close friend of my grandfather’s.”

“That’s even worse,” Harry screeches, “What’s he doing putting the moves on a man fifty years his junior?”

“He’s doing the same thing Henderson, Martins, Gollyson, and Perkins are doing. I’m disgustingly rich and single. They’re single too, so— er- They try to charm me whenever I attend a party alone.”

Harry gapes, “Henderson is one hundred and thirty!”

“I know,” Draco sighs unhappily, “His conversation is hopelessly old-fashioned.”

“His conversation is-” Harry gives up his outraged spluttering halfway through and grabs Draco’s wrist instead, “You’ll stop hiding behind this potted plant like a frightened virgin this instant, honey-bear. It’s time those old pervs learn that you aren’t single. Your young stud of a boyfriend has a famously twitchy temper and will hex them in the fucking face if they so much as look at you funny.”

Draco looks at the Weaslette helplessly, “ But— you can’t just abandon your date for another in the middle of a party, Harry. It’s ungentlemanly!”

“It’s alright. Ginny is here with Oliver, Draco. I became their third wheel when you didn’t invite me. Juliet begged me to come, said you’d need the backup.”

Draco looks gratefully toward his assistant, “Juliet said-

“She wanted to save you from those lechers, and I'm in the mood to do it in style.”