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Sunday, December 26th, 2010 08:04 pm
Title: Sweet Demands
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco confronts Harry about his affair with Draco’s mother. When they start dueling, everything goes terribly wrong for Draco.
Word count: 8,164
Warnings: crack!, rimming (pssh, as if that needs to be warned for. oh, it does? oh, okay. rimming), blatant disregard for the fact that cookies are called biscuits in Britain, 
Disclaimer: I don’t own. Property of J.K Rowling. For entertainment purposes only. Even if it only entertains myself.
Notes: Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] knic26 for the beta!  I’ve had this in my head since the holidays last year, but I never wrote it. Until now! Mwah! Seriously, don’t read this. Are you crazy?

Sweet Demands

Harry sank down in an armchair and yawned largely. The smell of Christmas cookies and pine filled his nose. The warm fire in front of him nearly lulled him to sleep. He could have easily succumbed to the need for rest, but he begrudgingly got up after a few minutes. It wouldn't do to start tomorrow off already behind. He needed to finish decorating the tree and make up the dough for tomorrow's cookies.

The holidays were always overwhelming in his little bakery. The small store was packed during the day. People from as far away as America and Australia came to Harry's bakery, mainly to buy pies and cakes, but a little bit, Harry knew, to gawk at him. Harry didn't mind. After the war, a little over a year ago, people started spending money like crazy, and all the consumerism was a boon to the British Wizarding World. Harry was making countless wedding and birthday cakes. In fact, he had Neville and Hannah's wedding cake in the back, waiting for it's finishing touches.

The fact that people spent so much money these days also meant that Harry could hire extra help during the season rush. He had hired three extra people, besides Luna who worked for him year-round. Katie Bell, who was on maternity leave from The Wilbourne Wasps, and whom Harry allowed to bring her baby in, came in early in the morning to help with the baking. Ron came in evenings, after Auror training. He was trying to earn enough money to ask Hermione to marry him, but was ashamed of the fact that he couldn't afford a nice ring. Harry insisted Hermione wouldn't care, but Ron came in anyway. He normally was a help, but had once set fire to the oven, so Harry has him stay out front and sell. Lastly, during the day, Daphne Greengrass came in. She was incredibly charming and charismatic, and has an incredible rapport with the patrons. Sometimes she makes him want to buy cookies and Harry was sick of cookies.

Daphne had come to him one day and, glancing around surreptitiously, had taken his hand, pulled him in the back room, and told him with a blush on her face that she needed a job and no one would hire her. "Can't you help me, Potter? I wasn't a Deatheater, my parent's were. Should I be punished for that?" Harry hired her on the spot. He was also planning on keeping her after the holidays. Luna was leaving to write full time for The Quibbler, and he needed someone. And, he hated to blow his own whistle, for Daphne to put that she had worked for Harry Potter on her CV meant she would be able to get hired most anywhere.

Harry had set about packaging up pies. He always sent pies away on Thursdays. Usually the leftovers, the ones that didn't sell. Which isn't the case during the holidays, so he made extras and hid them in the back. One to Molly, two to Hagrid, one to Narcissa. Harry smiled as he wrote Narcissa's name and dotted the 'i' with a heart. Harry groaned. He was such a girl sometimes.

Following the war, Harry had testified for Narcissa and Draco and they had been put under house arrest, but remained out of Azkiban. Harry, however, had refused to speak for Lucius. Harry had send Narcissa a letter and a pie as means of an apology. She had wrote him back, telling him she understood and she was eternally grateful for all Harry had done for her and her son. After that, Harry had written her weekly, a pie with each letter. And she wrote back. Harry knew all about her and Draco attempting to restore Malfoy Manor and Draco's failed attempts at finding a job now that he had completed his house arrest. Not that Draco needed a job. He was still incredibly wealthy, even after the reparations. No, Draco needed a job to try and fix his and his mother’s name in the Wizarding World.

Harry shook his head to try and stop thinking about Draco. He packaged up a few more pies and sent them off by owls, then spent the next little while mixing dough for tomorrow. Just as Harry was putting the last few touches on the Christmas tree and thinking about his warm bed upstairs above the shop, the door opened with a bang. Harry whipped around, pulling out his wand. He was surprised to be facing a furious-faced Draco Malfoy, who also had his wand at the ready.


"Malfoy?" Potter stared back at him, mouth agape. He looked like a buffoon.

"Potter." Draco sneered at the man. He had what Draco assumed was flour all over his ratty apron and in his disheveled hair, and his glasses where scratched and had dough in one corner.

"What are you doing?" Potter asked, his eyes on Malfoy's wand. "We're closed."

"Closed," Draco stated. His heart quickened as he steeled himself to ask what he came to ask. "Why are you sending letters to my mother?"

Potter remained silent and blinked, blinked at him! Did he not understand the question? There had to be inbreeding somewhere in the Potter line. Draco reeled in his anger. "Potter, you tosser, answer the question." He hadn't realized he whispered until he fell silent again.

Draco had been so angry when he'd intercepted an owl with a package addressed to his mother. The 'i' had been dotted with a heart, and his father couldn't send things from Azkaban. Of course, Draco followed the owl to his mother and confronted her about it. She paled, which confirmed his suspicions. She was having an affair. Draco sat down abruptly, his head cradled in his hands. He knew his mother wouldn't wait forever for his father. Twenty years in Azkaban is a long time to wait. But this was too soon. "Who is it from?" Draco asked, quietly.

"Draco," his mother said.

"Who!" He winced just as soon as he yelled at her. He never yelled at his mother. He had seen his father do so often, and knew the effect it had on her.

She held her head up high, stood up to her full height, and said curtly, "This is from Harry Potter."

Draco's world fell apart around him. He stood up and staggered backwards, clutching his heart. His mother was having an affair with Harry Potter. Harry fucking Potter. His worst enemy. His worst enemy that had unfortunately saved his life on several occasions. And, judging by the way Draco couldn’t catch his breath, his worst enemy who would eventually be the death of him.

There was nothing for it; this was the final straw. Draco made a decision. A very good decision. He'd have to kill Potter. Oh yes, he was very happy with this decision. He could hear his mother’s voice yelling his name as he stood and she tried to reach out for his arm just as he Disapparated to Diagon Alley.

Standing currently in front of Potter, he re-asked the question that Potter was still refusing to answer. "How long have you been having an affair with my mother?"

Potter, the bastard, had the impertinence to laugh. "What?"

"You heard me. How long?"

"Malfoy, I think you've got the wrong end of the stick." He was still smiling. In a patronizing way, the arse. Malfoys were not smiled at patronizingly.

"Don't lie to me!" Draco yelled. He shot a curse at Potter and Potter, the arse, performed an impenetrable Shield charm.

“Malfoy, what the fuck?” That had wiped the irritating smile off of Potter’s face. Draco raised his wand again.

Potter’s eyes went wide and he shouted, "Expelliarmus!" just as Draco cast another curse at the man. That’s when everything started expanding.


The spells hit each other and combined, then ricocheted, one beam at Malfoy and one at Harry's display case, shattering the glass and upsetting a tray of gingerbread cookies. Harry watched in horror as Malfoy was struck and flew backwards, stumbling back over Harry’s coffee table and fell, stunned, into an armchair.

“Shit shit shit,” Harry muttered, running straight to Malfoy, dropping to his knees beside the chair, and saying, “Innervate” over and over with no success. “Malfoy!” Harry yelled, shaking the unconscious boy.

“Stop manhandling me,” a small voice derided him from behind. Harry stood up quickly, wand held at the ready, spun towards the voice and gasped.


Draco had been surprised when glass had started raining down around him. He hadn’t remembered glass being above him. He threw up his arms, but though the glass fell on him, it didn’t hurt him. Standing back up again to his full height, he was even more surprised to see Potter, far across the room, shaking his body. His body? Why was his body over there? It was a bit disconcerting. Draco reached for his wand. Best to hex Potter while his back is turned. Where was his wand? He must have dropped it. Never mind, he had to get Potter to stop mauling his body.

“Stop manhandling me,” Draco yelled across the room. His voice barely carried. He cleared his throat to yell again, but Potter had starting walking towards him slowly, wand raised. Shit, where was his wand?

“Malfoy?” Potter asked, eyebrows raised. “Is that, er, is that you?”

“Merlin, Potter, you’re an idiot. Now, let’s put our wands down and talk like civilized adults.” Draco had to find his wand. Or he had to make Potter drop his. Predictably, good little Gryffindor that he is, Potter nodded, eyes still on Draco, and placed his wand on a nearby table. Draco relaxed some. He glanced across the room. Oh, there his wand was. In his hand. Shit. Across the room. In his... hand?

Potter loomed over him. “Malfoy.”

“Potter, it seems my body is over there.” Draco tried to point, but his arm barely moved. “So, tell me exactly, what’s going on?” Draco had a sneaking suspicion that something was terribly wrong.

Potter dropped to his knees in front of Draco and his face was huge. “Er...”


Harry knelt down in front of his shattered display case and stared at Malfoy. Well, what was speaking with Malfoy’s voice. And had Malfoy’s snark.

A gingerbread cookie.

Malfoy was a gingerbread cookie. “Er, Malfoy, you’re...”


“You’re a...” He hesitated.

“What, Potter?”

“You’re a gingerbread cookie.”

“A what?”

“It’s a type of cookie that is made into human shapes and has the flavour of...”

“I know what a fucking gingerbread cookie is!”

Harry nodded. “Er, well, you’re one.” He didn’t know what else to say. He watched as Malfoy tried to look down and started stomping his gingerbread feet and cursing.

How could this even happen? Harry looked around. All the other gingerbread men were broken into pieces, interspersed with glass shards. Grabbing his wand from the table he whispered, “Reparo.” The glass and cookies quickly all reformed themselves. Harry slipped behind the counter and slid the tray of cookies out of the display case and set it on the table. He watched as Malfoy stormed all over the tray, kicking cookies in his wake. Malfoy’s rant was spectacular... for a cookie.


Draco stopped for breath. He stomped on one more cookie, just for good measure. Then he crossed his stiff arms and looked up at Potter. The simpleton was just staring at him, slack-jawed. How this man could be The Saviour of the Wizarding World was beyond him. Draco sighed. He was going to have to state the obvious. “Potter, fix this. Now.”

“Right,” Potter said, spurred into action. He stood and looked back and forth across the room, then walked one way, then turned and walked back suddenly, then shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, then raised his wand and then dropped his arm again. He turned to Draco and said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Unsurprising. Get Granger, you idiot.”

“Right,” Potter said again, then raised his wand and cast a spectacular Patronus. The stag galloped away and Potter began to stare again.

“Take me to my body, Potter,” Draco demanded. Draco felt oddly naked being this far away from his body. Not that being next to it would help, but it may be a bit more reassuring. Potter approached him and attempted to grab him around the middle. Draco jumped back. “What are you doing? Don’t grab me!”

“Malfoy, how else am I to get you over there?” Potter had the nerve to roll his eyes. After putting Draco in this current situation, he rolls his eyes?!

“Gee, I don’t know, Potter. Levitate me? Build me a gingerbread thestral? Charm that spoon to be my broomstick? Just don’t manhandle me.”

Potter’s mouth was a thin line. “How about you stand on my hand?”

Draco paused. “Fine.” Potter placed his upturned hand against the table and Draco climbed on. Potter moved slowly to the armchairs in front of the fireplace and dumped Draco unceremoniously onto the table.


Malfoy scrambled back up to his feet, which, satisfyingly, seemed to take him a bit of effort. Harry watched in amusement as he dusted the crumbs off his legs and scowled up at Harry. Harry sat in the armchair not occupied by Malfoy’s body. Harry eyed it warily. Malfoy’s eyes were closed, and his features were relaxed. Harry was disconcerted to realize that without the familiar smirk, Malfoy was quite attractive. Quite attractive. Harry’s gaze ran from Malfoy’s soft, blond hair down his pale cheek to his red, full lips and finally to his adam’s apple, which occasionally bobbed. Harry bit his lip.

“...all your fault. Potter, are you listening?” Harry realized the cookie was talking and shifted his thoughts to the situation at hand. “Stop ogling my body and pay attention.”

Harry was saved a response when the Floo flared and Hermione stepped out, shaking soot from her hair.

“Harry what’s the emerge...” she trailed off when she saw Malfoy’s body. “Harry, what happened?” she asked, running to Malfoy’s chair and sliding fingers along his neck to check for a pulse. Harry was about to speak up when the cookie beat him to it.

“Get your filthy Mudblood paws off of my body!” At the same time, Draco’s body leaned away from Hermione.

Hermione squeaked and ripped her hand away as if burned. She turned and stared at the cookie, wide-eyed.

Harry dropped to his knees and pointed an accusatory finger inches from Draco’s gingerbread face. “You call her Mudblood ever again and I will break your little cookie legs.”

Malfoy glared, then resignedly turned to Hermione and said, “I apologize, Granger.” He huffed and sat down, looking away from them both.

“Harry, what’s happened?”

Harry offered Hermione his chair and he sat cross-legged on the coffee table. He explained what happened and she nodded occasionally. As Harry finished explaining, he watched her eyes light up, the promise of research adding a bit of mirth to the situation. At least for her. Hermione kissed him goodnight as she Flooed out, promising to return as soon as she had a clear idea about what was going on.

“What now?” asked Malfoy.

“Now I sleep.”

“What?! Don’t you dare!”

“Malfoy, I’m exhaused. I have to be up in less than six hours. I’m going up to bed.” He started to walk away.

“Potter, don’t leave me down here.” The cookie looked around nervously and there was a slight plea in his voice. “There’s no telling what vermin you have living down here. I’ll no doubt be devoured by morning.”

Harry sighed and held out his hand. Malfoy climbed on and they headed for the stairs. Harry placed Malfoy on his bedside table and began changing into his pyjamas.


“Potter, what are you doing?” Draco asked. To Draco’s mortification, Potter had stripped to just his pants.

“Changing for bed, Malfoy,” Potter answered, sounding exasperated. Draco watched as Potter bend over to recover a wrinkled shirt from a heap on the floor. Potter sniffed the shirt, then shrugged and started to pull it on. The plebeian. Draco cocked his head slightly when Potter’s back muscles shifted as he pulled the shirt down. No wonder his mother... No, no, no, ew. Draco ended that train of thought immediately. Potter turned and walked to the bed. “Goodnight.”

“No, no, don’t lay down. You have to go get my body. I can’t sit in that chair all night; I’ll get stiff.”

Potter looked at him in barely disguised anger. “And where would his highness like his body?” Potter bit out, through gritted teeth.

“Preferably far far away from this hovel.” Potter glared. “Fine. I’ll sleep here in the bed, after you’ve changed the sheets, and you can sleep on the couch.”

Oddly enough, Potter laughed and smiled a thoroughly obscene smile and leaned down close to Draco to whisper, “Or I could just go get some milk from the kitchen and have myself a midnight snack.” He looked Draco up and down. “That would solve several problems I’m having right now. One being I’m hungry. Another being you’re annoying me.” Potter’s threatening voice was deep and gravely and his face was dark and a bit mad and if Draco had a cock currently, it would be quite hard at seeing this side of Potter.

“Or you can sleep wherever,” Draco squeaked.

Potter righted himself and smiled smugly , turned and bounded down the stairs. A minute later, he returned with Draco’s body thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Potter dropped his body on the bed, threw a blanket over him, then got into bed beside him!

“Potter,” Draco began, but Potter turned quickly and said, “Silencio,” and Draco, try as he might, could no longer make a sound. Potter Noxed the lights and too soon the git was breathing deep and even.

Draco pushed a thick broom catalogue across the bedside table until it leaned against the bed. Then, panting, he lifted a metal dragon figurine and placed it on one end of the catalogue to hold it in place. He stepped out slowly onto the other end of the catalogue to ensure it wouldn’t topple to the ground. Satisfied, he ran and jumped, catching the blanket and pulling himself up onto the bed. Cringing at the quality of the fabric, he crawled over his own arm and settled in the crook of his neck, quickly falling asleep.


Harry awoke the next morning to the irritating sound of his alarm. He silenced it and, rubbing his tired eyes, attempted to drag himself out of bed. But the arm that was around his waist tightened, preventing him from moving. Nonplussed, Harry turned in the circle of arms and the night before came flooding back to him as Malfoy’s sweet breath blew evenly across his ear. Harry shivered as Malfoy’s morning erection dug into his hip. Harry’s cock hardened, sympathetically. He slid quietly out of Malfoy’s arms and padded to the shower.

He soaped himself up and moaned as the warm water cascaded over him, soothing his tired body. And if he came in his soapy hand thinking of soft blond hair between his legs, he passed it off as having woken up in those arms. It had been a long time since Harry had woken up in anyone’s arms.

It was odd that Malfoy could still move. He had flinched last night when Hermione had touched him, and Harry knew he hadn’t dragged Malfoy’s arms around him in the night.

“For the love of Morgana, put some clothes on,” Harry heard from the bed.

He finished toweling his hair, unconcerned about his nudity. He watched in amusement as the cookie bore his tiny, icing-made eyes right at Harry. Harry dressed and caught snippets of Malfoy’s mutterings, such as “uncouth” and “barbaric”.

“Come on, Malfoy. Let’s get downstairs.” He held out his hand for Malfoy to climb on, but the cookie just ignored him. “Fine.” Harry pulled out his wand and Levitated a squeaking cookie down the stairs. He dropped Malfoy on the counter and turned to see Katie already exiting the kitchen with a tray of scones on one arm and her baby in the other.


“That woman is breastfeeding!” Draco stated, not hiding the disgust in his voice. The girl, whom he thought looked vaguely familiar, nearly dropped the tray she was carrying.

“Harry, what...?” she started, but Potter interrupted her.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I tried to charm a cookie to interact with customers, but I obviously did a bad job. Just ignore him. I’ll try the charm again later. How’re those pies coming?”

Potter thought well on his feet. The girl continued to stare at Draco and nodded, “Fine, fine, a few more minutes.” Then she retreated into the kitchen and Potter unlocked the front door with a swish of his wand. People began to mill in already, and it was only seven in the morning!

“Just keep quiet, will you. My customers don’t need any of your pithy comments or insults.”

“Potter, you let her breastfeed in a bakery.”

“Yeah, so?”

“That’s disgusting. That baby is sucking on her tits in public. Disgusting”

“No, it isn’t. It’s a natural part of life.” Potter looked down at Draco. “It isn’t as though you have to suck on them.” The git smiled.

“And thank Merlin for that.” Potter looked at him oddly and dropped the subject.

“Just keep quiet or I’ll stick you in the oven.” And for the most part, Draco did. There were several times when it was impossible, however, to keep his opinion to himself.

Sometimes things just slipped unbidden from his mouth, such as “Did you not look in a mirror before you left the house this morning?” or “Do you sleep with a hippogriff every night? Ever heard of a bath?” Potter had to understand. Those were valid questions.

Apparently, Potter didn’t understand and soon placed a glass cake lid over Draco. Draco sat down in a huff.

There is a lull in business around ten and Potter removed Draco’s glass prison. “Just keep quiet, please,” Potter begs.

“I’ll keep quiet, but we’re not done discussing my mother, Potter. There’s no way, no way, I’ll ever let you near her again. How have you even been getting to the Manor. You’re not keyed into the wards. And for another thing, the house elves tell me when there are visitors, and... I won’t have a Potter half-sibling!!”

“Malfoy, whoa. Stop, stop. For the last time, there is nothing going on between your mother and me. If you must know, we started corresponding right after the war, but believe me, she’s not my type.” Potter said the last part with an amused look on his face.

Draco pointed a gingerbread arm indignantly. “What’s so funny? What’s wrong with my mother?! You would never be so lucky. She’s a catch. A catch, Potter.”

Potter, the idiot, broke out into laughter and it took several minutes for him to gain control of himself again. Draco was about to call Potter every filthy name he could think of when Daphne Greengrass walked through the door. Fuck. He had had a bit of a rocky history with Daphne. It was a long story, and not one he was willing to recount to anyone, but it involved his relationship with Pansy, and Daphne’s irrational jealousy. Daphne walked behind the counter to Draco’s dismay, kissed Potter on the cheek (which didn’t bother Draco, not even a little bit), and pulled a dingy apron over her head.

“What in the world is this?” she asked Potter, pointing at a staring Draco. Draco shook his head as subtly as he could at Potter.

“Er, charm gone wrong.” Potter looked at Draco, then at Daphne, then back to Draco and smiled. “I’m going to take over for Katie, Daphne. Call me if you need me.” He winked at Draco as he backed out of the room.

“Wait, Harry,” Daphne stopped him. “I just wanted to make sure you’re aware of the break-ins that’ve been happening on this street.”

“Yeah, I read about it in the paper. My wards are strong. We should be okay.”

“Break-ins?! Aren’t you glad you didn’t leave me down here alone and vulnerable?” Draco asked, causing Daphne to step back slightly.

“No, just disappointed,” Potter said, smiling that devious smile again that did something to Draco’s libido.

“Oh, ha ha, Potter.” Potter left the room.

Daphne eyed him warily. Draco nodded and kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to give her anymore chances to figure out who he was. He watched as she charmed the customers, as fierce whispers broke out whenever Potter emerged from the kitchen, and as Granger arrived and pulled Potter into the back room.

He emerged and watched Draco carefully. As Granger left, Potter sidled up to Daphne. “Let’s switch. I’m getting hot in that kitchen.” She nodded and left Draco alone with Potter.


“Well, it seems Hermione believes that whatever curse you cast at me was quite dangerous, and when you realized it was going to rebound upon you, your subconscious ejected your life force and it crashed into that cookie.” Potter told him this news without once looking him in the eye, blank expression on his face.

“Oh, so how do I get back?”

Potter cleared his throat and said, “Hermione thinks you’ll get back when your body has purged itself of the magic. Thinks it might be tomorrow.”

Draco sighed. He was relieved. But what was wrong with Potter? “That’s great. Aren’t you happy about that?”

“Yeah. The sooner I can get you out of my life, the better. I thought things might be better between us, but you still cast a curse like that?” Potter finally looked at him. His expression was unreadable. Draco felt like shit. Harry placed the cake lid over Draco again and ignored his tapping for several hours.


Most people thought the talking and animated cookie was adorable, as long as it wasn’t insulting them. Harry was so disappointed in Malfoy. After all this time, Malfoy would still jump to conclusions and hex him. There could never be a truce between them, and Harry knew it. He smiled as the bell over his door tinkled and Ron came in. He heard Malfoy groan.

Ron took off his jacket and sat down behind the counter, eyeing the cake lid with the animated cookie beneath it. “Alright, mate? This little cookie get out of hand? You teaching it a lesson?” Ron laughed and Harry joined him. Ron took the lid off of Malfoy and poked him in the stomach.

“Keep your filthy fingers off me, Weasley. There’s no telling where that finger has been, and I’m certain it’s unwashed, you miscreant.”

Ron stared for a moment then broke into bellowing laughter. He doubled over from the effort and came back up wiping his eyes and grabbed Malfoy around the middle and hauled him up to eye level. “Mate,” he said, laughing. “Mate, this is too much!”

“I decided to charm a cookie to talk and it went a bit wrong.” Harry joined in the laughter.

Malfoy looked as indignant as a cookie could and struggled in Ron’s hand. “Now see here, stop this laughter at once. Unhand me, you barbarian. I’ll have nightmares about freckles for weeks.” Ron howled with laughter and put Malfoy down again. Malfoy brushed his crumbs off and stood as far away from Ron as the counter would allow.

Several hours passed quickly, as the store was packed and the crowd was overflowing into the street. Malfoy was fairly well behaved, but Harry had to Silencio him a couple times after he insulted an old lady who smelled of cat piss and a young Witch who screamed as soon as she saw Harry and tried to climb over the counter to get to him.

Ron turned to Harry once the crowd had thinned a bit and said, “Mate, how much sleep are you getting? You’ve got bags under your eyes.”

“It’s the holidays. Hardly any sleep, to be honest.”

“And how much sex are you having?” Ron asked with a wink.

Harry tried not to squawk, but failed. “None of your business!” He saw Malfoy watching the exchange with interest.

“I know it’s not, but you’re Harry Potter. You could be getting it anytime you wanted. You look exhausted all of the time.” Ron waggled a finger at him, a gesture he had obviously picked up from Hermione. “You need a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend, Potter?! Well, that is quite interesting, isn’t it? Our Saviour, the shirt-lifter.” The glee was evident in Malfoy’s voice.

Harry hung his head in his hands and whined, “Ron, don’t tell the cookie my personal business.”

“Why in the world not?”

“Because, he’ll use it to his advantage.” Ron raised an eyebrow. “He’s a sadistic little cookie.”

“Sadistic? I’m not the one going around threatening to break people’s delicate cookie legs, Potter.”

Ron looked back and forth between Malfoy and Harry. “So how come this cookie has the personality of Draco bloody Malfoy? You couldn’t have modeled it after someone nicer? Someone sweet?”

“I’m sweet, Weasley! I’m made of fucking sugar.”

Ron just looked bemused. Harry explained, “Well, you know what they say about publicity. Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

“You don’t need publicity,” Ron answered, looking around the crowded room.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So,” Ron said, eyeing Malfoy. “Let’s eat him.”

“No,” Harry and Malfoy squeaked at the same time.

“I’ll go get some milk.”

“Weasel, I swear to Merlin, when I get back to human form...”

“I knew it,” Ron exclaimed, and knocked Malfoy back, pinning him to the counter with one finger. “This cookie doesn’t just act and sound like Malfoy. It is Malfoy.” Ron’s face lit up. “So tell me why we can’t eat him?”

Harry shook his head, batting Ron’s hand off of Malfoy. Then he told Ron the story of everything that’d happened since last night. Well, he left out the part about the morning erections, but that was just a fluke anyway.

Ron nodded, solemnly. “So, you’re telling me that Malfoy’s body is upstairs, unable to defend itself?” He raised a calculating eyebrow.

“Potter,” the cookie warned in a growl.

“I know that you and I have vastly different ideas about what we’d like to do to Malfoy’s body,” Ron winked, “but I’m sure we can come to some sort of compromise.”

Harry flushed. “Alright Ron,” he said, shoving a giggling Ron out the door. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Enjoy Malfoy’s body,” Ron said through the crack of the door right as it was slammed in his smirking face.


Draco settled quickly to bed, definitely not watching Potter as he changed, or thinking about the things Potter could be doing to his body, and slipped into sleep. He awoke later that night, rising quickly to alertness. Something had woken him. Then suddenly, he heard it. A slight noise from downstairs. He peered over his body’s shoulder and saw that Potter was sleeping soundly beside him. “Potter,” he whispered loudly, not wanting to be overheard by whoever was downstairs. Potter didn’t stir. “Potter,” he said, a little louder.

Potter still didn’t move. Draco heard a louder noise from downstairs and thought he heard a boot on the stairs. Oh, shit, what to do, what to do? Suddenly, his body sat bolt upright and shook Potter roughly. Potter sat up quickly and blinked around in confusion until he heard the sound, too. He grabbed his wand and slid noiselessly out of bed. Draco watched nervously as Potter padded silently down the stairs.

A few moments of silence followed. Then Draco heard a bang, a loud shout, a thud, then more silence. He ran to the edge of the bed and looked down at the floor. The fall alone would cause him to crumble like... well, like a cookie. If Draco could grip the bed hangings hard enough, then he could slide to the floor, but then how would he get down the steps? He had to get down to Potter, though. He had to make sure Potter was alright.

Relief flooded him as Potter bounded back up the stairs. He nodded at Draco and began riffling through his bottom drawer. He pulled out a silvery cloak, threw it over Draco and Draco’s body, and cast Silencio on him. Draco attempted to sputter in rage, but no sound came out. Potter went back downstairs and some voices carried up the stairs. Not that Draco could make them out.

Potter came back up about half an hour later. He pulled the cloak off of Draco and removed the charm.

“What the bloody hell, Potter?”

Potter slid back into bed and said, “I caught those thieves, thanks to you, and knocked them out. The Aurors needed my statement and it wouldn’t do to have them come up here and find the unconscious body of Draco Malfoy. I hid you beneath my invisibility cloak.”

Draco preened at the mention of his help. “Didn’t the papers say they were dangerous? Had assaulted most people who caught them in the act? Yet, you took them on on your own, Potter.” Draco shook his head. “Are you insane?”

“Why Cookie, were you worried about me?” Potter mocked him.

“Don’t be utterly ridiculous,” Draco backtracked. “I’d just be trapped here on this bed if you died. And don’t fucking call me Cookie” He said it with as much malice as he could muster, but he swore he caught Potter smiling before he rolled with his back to Draco.


Harry woke again with Malfoy’s arms around him, and snuggled back into them. The cookie wasn’t making a sound, so Harry could enjoy the strong, lean arms around his chest and the... oh, the hard cock nestled between his arse cheeks. Suddenly Malfoy started thrusting and Harry heard a squeaked, “Don’t do this to me, body. Stop that this instant. What if he wakes up? Bad body, bad. No.”

Malfoy was chastising his body like a naughty child, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Shit,” he heard.

“Malfoy, I think your body likes me.”

“Stop molesting my body, Potter.”

“Me molesting you? I think you’re a bit turned round, there.”

“Well, stop bloody lying there and letting my body molest you!”

“But, ooohh, it feels so, ahh, good.” Harry was only trying to rile Malfoy up, but the truth was, it did feel good. There was entirely too much fabric in the way, but it was the most action he’d gotten in a long time.

“Potter,” Malfoy growled. Harry reluctantly pulled away and set about getting ready. He avoided looking at Draco’s body and the substantial erection tenting his pants.


Downstairs, it was much the same as yesterday. Boring boring boring. How Potter managed to do this job day in and day out with the same boring people and the same boring customers was beyond him. Several filthy children had gathered around Draco and expected him to perform something for them. Draco just insulted them until they ran crying to their mothers and Potter manhandled him to the back side of the counter.

He avoided Daphne as well as he could, and dreaded having to deal with the Weasel. Potter was working hard, and his tanned skin shined with a sheen of sweat. Draco was most certainly not turned on by that. He also wasn’t turned on by the disheveled hair and the flexing muscles as Potter rushed back and forth into the kitchen.

A loud thump sounded from upstairs just as Weasley came in for his shift. Weasley looked up at the ceiling and, catching Potter’s eye, pointed up. Potter nodded and ran up the stairs.


Harry knew exactly what the thump had been. Malfoy’s damn body was beginning to move too much, certainly-and hopefully-a sign that Malfoy would return to normal soon.

Sure enough, Malfoy’s body lay on a heap on the floor next to the bed. Malfoy could have easily hit his head on the bedside table. Harry couldn’t leave his body there without any supervision. He heaved Malfoy’s body back onto the bed and sat looking at it, spread out peacefully. Malfoy was absolutely gorgeous when the mouthy git couldn’t speak or sneer. Harry ran a palm down the soft cheek of Malfoy’s face and Malfoy moaned and leaned into the touch. Harry snatched his hand away and leaned back. He closed his eyes to assuage his rising lust.

How was he going to prevent Malfoy from getting up again? Having a sudden idea, Harry jumped off the bed and grabbed two ties from his closet. Leaning over Malfoy’s body, he tied one arm to the bedpost. Then he ran his hand up the other arm to straighten in above Malfoys head and tied the other to the other bedpost. He looked down and realized that he was straddling Malfoys hips. He remained still for a few moments, torn between the desire to grind his erection (which seemed to appear quickly during the intimate task of tying Malfoy to his bed) down on Malfoy’s hips or to jump off Malfoy and return to his job.

Harry shook his head. He could never violate someone like that. He quickly scrambled back off of Malfoy, and if his erection dragged along Malfoy’s thigh, was that was completely an accident.

“What were you doing so long up there?” Harry was greeted with when he got back downstairs.

He leaned down to look the cookie in it’s face. “I gave your body a good seeing to.”


Draco squeaked. “You did what, Potter? I swear if one hair is out of place...”

“He’s kidding, Cookie, relax,” the Weasel stated, pretending like he hadn’t been trying to drip hot wax from a candle onto Draco the whole time Potter was upstairs. Draco glared.

“I am kidding. You had fallen out of the bed and I didn’t want you to crack your skull open on my new rug. Blood stains are hard to vanish. So I tied you to the bed.”

“Tied me to the bed?”

“Yes, then I had my wicked way with you. Oh, it’s okay, Cookie. Your body wanted it. Very responsive.”

Potter and Weasley were looking at each other and laughing, and Draco was apoplectic. “Don’t fucking call me Cookie.” He climbed down onto the table, made a tent out of dough, and hid the rest of the evening.

When Potter finally closed the shop and said goodnight to Weasley, Draco emerged.

“You know I was just kidding, right?” Potter asked, sincerity in his voice and eyes.

Draco huffed. “Of course, Potter. Your Gryffindor sensibilities would never allow you to do something like that.” He crawled onto Potter’s hand and they went upstairs.

Draco gulped when he saw his body so intimately tied to the bed. “You can untie me now.” He watched as Potter leaned over his body and released the ties, then took Draco’s small wrists into his calloused hands and rubbed them. Draco shuddered. Potter had stripped down to his pants and was crawling into bed when Draco yelled, “It’s time to change the sheets again, and my body needs a bath. Bathe me, Potter.”

Potter struggled to raise his head from the pillow, glared at Draco, Noxed the lights, and said, “You’re in no position to be making demands, Malfoy.” He laid his head back down and quickly fell asleep.


Harry woke in the middle of the night with a warm mouth on his neck and a hand down his pants. He moaned, but tried to sit up. Unsuccessful, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark and realized he had a lap full of Malfoy. Or at least Malfoy’s body. This was getting out of hand.

Suddenly, Malfoy detached his lips from Harry’s earlobe, thrust his erection against Harry’s, and whispered, “How’s this for a position to be making demands?” Harry shivered as Malfoy’s breath ghosted over his ear.

“Shit, yeah, you can make any demands you want.”

Mischief sparked in Malfoy’s eyes as he sat up, back straight and arms locked against Harry’s chest. Harry immediately regretted his statement until Malfoy said, “Good. Then I demand you strip me, suck me, rim me, then fuck me. Hard, and in that order.”

“Yes, Cookie!”

“Don’t fucking call me Coo-ahhhh!” Harry shut him up by rolling them suddenly over, ripping Malfoy’s shirt off, and lightly biting a nipple. He watched in fascination as Malfoy arched gracefully off the bed. “Potter,” Malfoy moaned, gripping Harry’s hair firmly and pulling him up to his mouth.

Harry grunted in pain as a few hairs were ripped out of his head. He leaned down for a kiss and snagged Malfoy’s bottom lip between his teeth, threatening Malfoy by biting down hard and glaring into Malfoy’s eyes. Malfoy exhaled a sharp breath through his nose, rolled his eyes, and released Harry’s hair. Harry rewarded him by dragging his tongue across the abused lip. Malfoy moaned and parted his lips more to Harry’s exploration.

Harry slid his hands up Malfoy’s arms and pinned Malfoy’s hands over his head before he could protest. Then he slowed down and deepened the kiss. Malfoy started squirming beneath him and Harry grazed his lips teasingly across Malfoy’s and, leaning down to Malfoy’s ear, whispered, “Don’t make me truss you up, again.”

Malfoy stopped squirming suddenly and held his breath. Harry only had to take one look at Malfoy’s half-lidded eyes to know that the idea wasn’t unwelcome. He considered, but decided to save that for another time. Because hopefully there would be another time. Malfoy was already so responsive, and Harry hadn’t done anymore than kiss the git. Which was quite tragic, really. Harry bit the side of Malfoy’s neck and shimmied down his body, trailing kisses and bites over his chest, hips, and thighs, removing clothing as he went.

Harry paused, hovering over Malfoy’s body, and waited for Malfoy to look down at him, then, maintaining eye contact, Harry took Malfoy’s cock into his mouth and swallowed it down as far as he could.


Draco keened as Potter deepthroated him. Oh, fuck, the way his green eyes were staring at him as he sucked Draco’s cock was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen. He couldn’t look away. He had to warn Potter, though, that he was way too close already. But without actually admitting he was close. Because that would be embarrassing.

“Potter,” he growled. Luckily, Potter seemed to understand. With one last pass, he dragged his tongue up the underside of Draco’s cock and quickly went back down for his bollocks. Draco’s head flew back and he clawed the sheets.

Potter released his balls with a ‘pop’ and slid his hands down Draco’s thighs, gripping them roughly and shoved them up and apart. Draco was nothing if not helpful and grabbed his thighs behind the knees.

“Fuck, you’re flexible.”

“Mouth to better use, Potter.”

Potter smirked, and kissed and bit at the junction of Draco’s thighs and arse. Then he ran a firm tongue from tailbone to bollocks. Draco gasped, and Potter did it again. His strokes got shorter and shorter until he was rubbing his tongue solely against Draco’s arsehole. Potter would bite and nip and lick, then would turn his head to the side and bite Draco’s thigh, hard, and growl like some wild animal, before returning to his arse. Draco was gasping and writhing and every time Potter would bite him, electricity would jolt through his whole body. Draco’s fingers would tense up in Potter’s thick hair and then relax again. That was, until Potter started fucking him with his tongue.

Draco could hear it and he could feel saliva running down his crack, but he never wanted it to stop. Potter’s tongue, pointed so perfectly, spearing into his body and activating nerve endings that no one else knew about. That he hadn’t even known about. Draco was panting and moaning as he felt two well lubricated fingers push into him easily, yet rushed and hurried. The tongue was still there, driving him insane. He wanted to moan Potterhotfucktongue but only barely restrained himself. However, he did hear himself moaning, “Potter, Potter, Potter.”

Potter abandoned him suddenly and Draco was considering throwing the first curse that came to mind, when he felt Potter cover his body again, warm tongue in his mouth and heavy pressure at his arse. Potter swallowed Draco’s moan as he pushed in. Potter, the idiot, stopped above him. It looked as though it took every ounce of self restraint.

“Malfoy, are you...”

“Potter, shut the fuck up and fucking fuck me! Fucking Gryffindor.”

“Articulate,” Potter winked, thrusting forward, slowly but firmly. Draco moaned and rolled his hips to meet Potter on every thrust. Potter was panting above him. Draco wrapped his legs firmly around Potter’s hips and rolled them over in one smooth motion. Now this was where Draco liked to be. Setting the pace, he slammed himself down onto Potter and Potter arched beautifully beneath him. Grabbing his hips, Potter held him up and pistoned his cock into Draco. Draco shifted forward just a bit and nearly screamed, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Right there, Potter!” Potter kept the same angle and mercilessly fucked Draco. Draco reached down and fisted his cock, once, twice, then came spectacularly over his hand and Potter’s chest.

“Fuck,” Potter bellowed, and thrust up into Draco one last time, his hips completely leaving the bed. Draco felt fantastic, perched precariously in the air, suspended by Potter’s hips, and warmth filling his over-stimulated body. He rolled off of Potter once the man had stopped shaking and landed on his back.

“Brilliant,” he said, as Potter turned and laid his head on Draco’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” Potter agreed, swiping a finger across his stomach to collect some of Draco’s cooling come and putting it in his mouth. “Brilliant,” he echoed.

Draco sighed heavily, reaching for sleep, but something wasn’t right. “What the bloody fuck?” he asked, reaching under his hip and pulling out a broken gingerbread cookie. He held it out for Potter’s inspection and they both broke out into hysterics.


“Harry, this woman needs sugar.” Ron was standing in the crowd at Harry’s bakery, a very pregnant Hermione beside him, eyeing the sweets as though she wanted to make love to each and every one of them.

Draco appeared from the back room, cloth in hand. “It’s bad enough, Granger, that I have to clean fingerprints off the glass after children have been here, but with you it looks like I’m going to have to clean up drool as well.” She smiled at him as he reached around and pulled a scone out of the display case and handed it to her. It was blueberry. Her favourite. Harry smiled as Hermione and Draco started discussing the newest political gossip.

Harry felt a hand clasp his shoulder. “Whoa, easy there, mate. You look concussed. Smiling like that.” Harry grinned up at his best mate. Ron had thought he was crazy at first, dating Draco, but now, after a year, Ron teased him still, but he knew. He knew that Draco made him happy. Happier than he’d ever been.

“Speaking of sweets,” Ron said, loudly. Hermione and Draco looked up at him, surprised. He pulled a lumpy package from his cloak and handed it to Draco. “Merry Christmas, mate.”

Draco looked shocked, and if Harry saw Draco’s eyes get a little extra shiny, he just chalked it up to the lighting in the room. Draco just stood and stared at Ron.

Huffing, Ron shook the package in Draco’s hands and said, “It doesn’t bite.” His cheeks flushed pink.

Draco snapped out of his trance and opened the package with vigor. Dropping the paper to the ground, Draco frowned as he let a green cloth something unfold. At first Draco looked scandalized, then began giggling. Ron joined in, then soon Hermione, who could see the present. Frowning, Harry snatched the green material from Draco and realized it was an apron. For Draco to wear while working at the bakery.

On the front was a picture of a gingerbread man with the work Cookie written across it. Harry beamed up at his best mate. This wasn’t just a Christmas present. This was a ‘welcome to the family’ present.

The End



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