In black and white. A
No, bonze yaoiane, this is not what I was cooking. It 'a spittle in the eye that I decided to put down because it was the mold for too long. Vogliatemi not bad.
Title: In black and white
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry / Draco
Party: 1 / 1
Rating: R
Word Count: 1638
Summary: - Ladies and gentlemen, magicians and witches, this is the era as possible that meets the impossible. -
With a roar that exceeds that of thunder and lightning overhead, the crowd explodes in a scream of joy.
Warning: A tiny note, minuscolissima make-up. Cross-dressing in comparison seems to be the mother of Hagrid.
The sky is dark and menacing over London. Clouds, thick as honey and black as pitch, is clotted against each other in a majestic flock indistinct whispering in the ears and lightning flashes.
The Big Bang stands to another as a shepherd of stone.
- Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards - Harry
holds the gaze turned upward from the privileged position that has been paid while the Muggle prime minister speaks. When the drops for a moment, not far away, in a massive crowd, sees Dudley. Big as it was the last time I saw him, has the big face flushed and sweaty, perhaps because of the tie which his mother has tightened around his neck like a noose, or the collar of that shirt that's obscene squared pressed so much on the throat that his Adam's apple as it is in relief made by a sill.
Harry returns to follow the clouds with his eyes, apparently to do with contemplation.
- ... we are preparing to face the beginning of a new era, built up a war of catastrophic proportions, enough to send two worlds collided. We are going, the people of England, to live in a new world without discrimination, where equality is the only true sovereign. And we will learn about one another. -
The chair was given a life worthy of the Queen herself has remained in the building because its luster indisposed. Harry notes the Prime Minister and his chest swells in the delivery of word "equality", and wondering who the hell has sewn for him to complete so horrible. The colors of the British flag, it takes even a jacket pocket design with diagonally crossed by white bands on a red background and blue.
The bottom of the pants are sewn wrong. The so-called coup style, no doubt.
- Get ready, people, because the period ahead will be full of discoveries the result of a collaboration that has the extraordinary. This is the era of technology that meets the magic of the computer that meets ... flying broom, or so. -
A nervous smile crosses the face of the Prime Minister, as he had just said public port boxer flowers. Someone in the crowd rises to the sky a broom racing, and Harry looks around to see how some Muggle up for air a monitor or keyboard. Muggles, however, remain in place, but noisy blurred.
While in a corner of the square stands a few British flags, a few hundred people to the right, waving a banner of Chudely Cannon. Harry asks what they think the Muggles at the sight of two cannon balls on an orange background, and understand why the Prime Minister on his face there is that strange smile.
- Ladies and gentlemen, magicians and witches, this is the era as possible that meets the impossible. -
With a roar that exceeds the of thunder and lightning overhead, the crowd explodes in a scream of joy.
Every time he gets home, Harry expects to be an odor. Not a peculiar smell, nor always the same. Sometimes it is coffee, croissants sometimes, sometimes bubble bath (and then to worry, because the bathroom is on the side opposite the entrance). It can also be the smell of liquefied colander, but there is a smell. Apart
that day. Harry
through room after room, but there is nothing to catch his attention. Her house is empty, switched off, an old black and white film without sound.
Until you see it. Draco is supported
the sill of the window, the curtains beaten by the wind forming a halo around its gray body. Look at the world beyond that rectangle as if she were watching a movie. Harry is approached with caution, putting his jacket on the couch softly.
- Hey. - Draco
not turn. - You're back early. There are still fireworks. - Through its shape
Harry sees colored sparks popping everywhere.
- Yes, well, I did not want to stay. -
Still no smell.
- I've seen. - Draco says. - The telly. -
- Oh. -
- That was a complete muggle horrible. -
- Yeah. -
- Did a good speech. -
In fact Harry has done nothing but repeat the words of the Prime Minister, said that she lived her childhood in the midst of the Muggles (not counting child exploitation and vattelappesca) and conclude with "Right now I just want to split himself at home look a bit 'of television. "
One lap of applause did the rest.
- I do not think so. -
Draco finally turns to him and grins. - No, indeed. You said a bunch of crap. But the Muggles appreciate this kind of thing. -
His smile was amused despite her lips almost purple from the cold. Who knows what the hell is left with the windows open.
Harry approaches, surrounds the life, hugs him. And Draco is purring in the crook of his neck.
- ... So begins a new era. - Whispers.
- Yes -
- Wizards with Muggles. No distinction. -
- Yes -
- It will be chaos. -
- I know. -
- It 's bullshit. -
- I know. -
- Then why did you fucking talk? -
Harry grabs his chin in his fingers, took possession of her lips. Brush up your teeth with your tongue, it attracts to himself with his other hand. Draco moaning sound inside her tiny mouth.
Harry lifts his shirt, caressing his belly cold. Hugs back to him while a gust of wind makes them both shudder.
Draco pressed his forehead on the shoulder, closes his eyes and sighs. - In Room, mh? -
Harry nods.
Two hours later in the bedroom there is a smell. And to Harry his apartment seems anything but black and white.
He's softly with her head resting on the knees of Draco, the sweat still almost in its furthest corners. They are both naked, and his face met Draco's bottom is a fucking view.
's why Harry needs to hear a smell when entering the house. To know that is not mad at all. Why, what the hell, visual hallucinations are one thing, but those smells are a sign of madness too crazy even for Harry Potter.
Draco is, until there is a smell.
Harry has his fingers through his hair and he knows why he did that fucking speech. Do not give a bat of what people may think of wizards and Muggles that wizards can think of Muggles. It 's all a big misunderstanding with people who believe that other people can do what everyone has always dreamed of.
Harry knows for sure that the British prime minister in full on the night he dreams of marrying a witch who could put Imperius his children and forces them to stop smoking weed and shit, know perfectly well that the largest intake of Arthur Weasley is knowing how to use a mouse, while that of his children is to see a porn site.
Nobody gives anything for nothing, and soon the mixtures of wizards and muggles will be around for London without having the slightest idea how the hell did the world, what is real and what is not.
Scrimgeour hide his head under the pillow of his beautiful Latvian safe and then everyone will know you made the wrong choice. And a few million muggles have a black hole in the head lasting a few months or so.
Harry made that speech because they do not give a fuck if it is so or not. He has already defeated those who had to overcome now is the damn prejudices of a few hundred years of history to defeat them alone.
Draco's caresses lips with two fingers and Harry open.
After the war against Voldemort has involved both sides in all it seemed like a good idea of the nursery rhyme "round round around," holding hands ... to that event, under the threatening clouds of London, Harry hears only the first part of "The Crow". But Hermione is happy as a clam under the fireworks, and some Muggle is tremendously fascinated by the critters with green eyes that ball go around calling people "master."
For now everything is as it should go. E he just fucked with Draco, with his smell on the skin.
And fuck, as if he loved you and Malfoy!
But there is that smell. The smell of home and security that links them to each other and prevents them from escaping legs shoulder screaming in terror.
So now Harry is sitting placid on his knees with the head of Draco, who holds a lipstick in hand. The rest on Harry's lips, tracing a long red bow, then Harry starts to laugh.
-Devil Draco, again? -
He grins. - It serves you right. -
- Pfui. -
Harry can feel his breath on his face as Draco's lips painted with the eye of a designer, frowning.
The air is imbued with static tension.
- Socchiudile a bit '-
Harry does.
- You like it? - Then asks.
- Yes Tanto. -
- Can I kiss you? -
Draco nods slowly and as much as it is lowered to allow Harry to reach his face. The lipstick cola, drooling, both blur the faces.
Harry's apartment is not black and white.
Outside, the air frosty, the moon is in eclipse.
But nobody can see beyond the clouds thick as honey and black as pitch, the Big Bang and fireworks over the celebrations of the beginning of the era as possible that meets the impossible.
Finis.
0 comments:
Post a Comment