Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: Trick-or-treating
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1000
Genre: Humour, Fluff
Status: Complete
Summary: Draco goes trick-or-treating. Sort of.
Warnings: So silly. I went CRAZY with prompts. Crazy. 13 prompts used. *facepalm*
Note: Written for the following prompts:

enchanted_jae's monthly drabble challenge: It was a dark and stormy night...
awdt's prompts:

• "You promised me breakfast."
  
• The games people play
  
• "But it didn't have anything to do with sexy."
  
• "It's not enough."
  
• "Well, that's not working, is it?"
  
• use words: bulbous, water, banana, heaven, and donkey.
  
• "They say it tastes like chicken."

hd_fluff's prompt: Jack-o-lantern (picture)
harrylovesdraco's challenge: "Halloween or Samhain"
hd_pots_n_porn's prompts:

• pumpkin
  
• apples
  
• cherries

I must crosspost to all these comms. So sorry. I'll do it in batches.

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Trick-or-treating


It was a dark and stormy night, but the club was nevertheless as crowded as usual. Perhaps even more than usual with people feeling extra festive on Halloween. All around the room Jack-o-lanterns cast flickering lights and odd shadows over the people swaying on the dance floor, but Draco could still clearly see Potter from where he was sitting together with Pansy.

"That should be illegal," Draco said decisively, watching Harry Potter making a spectacle of himself. "He's practically having sex right there in public. Someone should stop him."

"Well no one stopped him when he did a Donkey Show."

Draco choked on his Firewhiskey before his brain started to function again and he realized that Pansy must have been joking. He resolved to drink water from now on. Alcohol made his brain all fuzzy. Undoubtedly, alcohol was the reason Draco had spent the last half an hour staring fixatedly at Potter.

"Oh the games people play," Pansy mused, sipping her drink.

"What do you mean by that?" Draco asked, not taking his gaze away from Potter's sexy performance. No, not sexy. It was scandalous and outrageous, but it didn't have anything to do with sexy. This was yet again the result of Draco's inebriated state.

"Well, he's clearly trying to make you jealous," Pansy declared matter-of-factly.

"Of cherries?" Draco breathed, watching Potter pick up another cherry. He licked it slowly before popping it into his mouth with an expression that suggested he might have experienced a spontaneous orgasm. Draco's breath hitched a little. "Well, that's not working, is it?" He nodded firmly.

"But it worked yesterday when he was eating a banana."

"Oh! The banana!" Draco gasped, fondly remembering yesterday.

"Just go to him!" Pansy snapped. "He clearly wants it. Think of the poor food. Mark my words, he'll abuse pumpkins next. Or, heaven forbid, he'll start bobbing for apples with those crazy muggle-loving twits."

"He'd get wet then," Draco pondered, but then frowned, not sure how one could abuse a pumpkin. Though the thought gave him odd ideas. He shook his head to clear it. "Why exactly are you convinced that Potter abusing fruits means he wants me?"

"It's not because of the fruit, you daft man. It's because he keeps fluttering his eyelashes at you and making come-here gestures with his finger."

Draco narrowed his eyes, not sure if he should believe that; after all, Draco usually looked at Potter's mouth and his tongue, not his fingers and eyelashes. Which was a shame, Draco thought now that he had looked. Potter had nice fingers and nice eyelashes.

Draco sighed, declaring himself pathetic. Logic told him that he couldn't actually see Potter's eyelashes from here, so clearly he was going crazy and should stop watching Potter make love to cherries. However, in that moment, a tall, dark-haired man with very tight clothes, a wide grin, and a bulbous nose approached Potter's table. Draco shot up immediately, but remained standing rooted to the spot, flustered because he didn't actually have a plan of action. But that man had to be stopped. That much was clear.

"That's the spirit!" Pansy praised, rudely shoving Draco forward, and his disobedient feet followed Pansy's instructions. Draco passed the dancing crowd, pushing people out of his way, and he reached Potter's table just as the stupid man sat down and leaned closer to Potter, whispering something in his ear. Something that clearly surprised Potter greatly because his eyebrows rose high, almost disappearing behind the messy mop of hair that fell forward onto his forehead.

"Really?" Potter wondered, his expression betraying nothing but polite puzzlement.

"Oh yes. And they say it tastes like chicken," the man said earnestly.

"Mmmm." Potter nodded, pursing his lips. "Fascinating."

Draco felt a little nauseous, not knowing what the hell they were discussing, but unfortunately Potter didn't seem opposed to the man's advances. On the contrary, when the man leaned even closer, caressing Potter's thigh, Potter failed to do the obvious and bat the hand away.

"So what do you say?" the man whispered suggestively.

"Well, that certainly sounds ... odd." Potter scrunched up his nose, but then he looked up suddenly, and for a second, his eyes met Draco's. Directing his gaze back at the man, Potter fluttered his eyelashes — and this time Draco really could see it — and smiled widely. "But you promised me breakfast. So that's something," Potter acknowledged.

The man smiled back, rather excitedlty, and then promptly got up, pulling Potter by his hand. "Well then ..." He looked around as though searching for the quickest way to the exit; but instead, he spotted Draco standing beside them. "What do you want?" he asked sharply.

Draco swallowed, barely preventing himself from saying, 'Potter, you idiot.' That was the blatant truth, but he couldn't know how Potter would react to such a proclamation. Therefore, he tried desperately to think of something less crude. But what could he possibly say or do to make Potter go home with him?

Potter stood up, looking at Draco inquisitively, his lips still red from cherries he had previously devoured so spectacularly.

Knowing he would have to either explain or excuse himself, Draco cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Well, it was Halloween, he reminded himself before he spoke, delivering his strangest ever pick up line.

"Trick or treat?" Draco asked.

Potter blinked, and the man next to him gave Draco an incredulous look, groaning, "Are you for real?"

Ignoring the man, Draco stared at Potter through his lashes, putting on his best, seductive smile. "How about ... I show you a trick and then you give me a treat," Draco said sweetly.

The man spluttered, but Potter's surprised expression dissolved into one of interest. He bit his plump bottom lip, his gaze travelling along Draco's body, as though assessing possibilities.

"Preferably, a treat that doesn't taste like chicken," Draco added.

Potter laughed, freeing his hand from the man's grip. "Now that's an interesting offer," he declared. "And it just so happens —" Potter lowered his voice, "I have plenty of treats."

Draco shuddered as the loser beside them whined. "But — but you said that the breakfast offer was something," he said, almost sniffing.

"It's something," Potter agreed, not looking at him. "But it's not enough." He stepped closer and pressed his body to Draco's, his arms encircling Draco's neck. "I want to see that trick," Potter whispered hotly against Draco's lips.

Breathing in a gulp of much needed air, Draco leaned in for a tiny taste of sweet cherries and Potter's lips. "I can make this whole place disappear in a second," Draco bragged, wrapping his hands around his prize. "Watch," he instructed, and then Apparated them both away, directly into his bedroom.

And there, appropriately impressed with Draco's trick and true to his word, Potter really did give him a treat.

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Fin

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Donkey show: If you don't know what this means, consider yourself lucky. It probably means what you think it means, though.