Summary:The difference between mind-blowing sex with Harry Potter and all-eclipsing disaster is just one gentle stroke of a quill. Pansy Parkinson’s quill, to be exact.
Why I loved it:This fic was a delight from start to finish. The way she wrote Draco and Harry were absolutely perfect. Draco was at his sneaky Slytherin best and Harry was so good for him. This fic was so funny very sweet and charming, The tea party with Narcissa and Lucius was brilliant and hysterial.....So many funny and witty lines from all the snide, smirking Malfoy's. They do stick together through anything, even if Draco shows up to tea with Harry's hand stuck to his arse. :))))))))))))
This was squeeee worthy fun and you will also find out that Pansy is very very naughty. This was delightful and hilarious.
The Gryffindor 8th year boys’ dormitory smelled like dirty socks and Quidditch leathers. Draco didn't really mind. His own dorm smelled just as bad, but with a hint of Blaise's forgotten midnight snacks adding to the mix. Draco stopped just inside the door for a moment to get his bearings. He'd nodded at Weasley, when they had crossed each other at the portrait hole, and Thomas and Finnigan had been playing chess in the common room. That left Longbottom. He glanced at the bed next to Harry's. Empty. Good! He was probably off somewhere with Lovegood or Girl-Weasley or both, then.
Finally Draco turned his attention to Harry, who was sprawled upside down on his bed, his bare feet up on the headboard and his head resting on a wrinkled lump of sheets and blankets. He was studying, or at least looking up at a battered book hovering in front of his face. From time to time he raised his hand and gave a small wave, and Draco could hear the rustling sound of a turning page. The sight made a small shiver run down his spine at Harry's casual displays of wandless magic; all that raw power, just waiting quietly under the innocent looking surface. Not that the surface was bad looking! Now that Harry wasn't wearing his cousin's cast offs anymore, he looked... extremely fit. It was just that the eternal bedhead and relaxed smile didn't advertise what lay beneath it.
Draco crossed the room and plucked the book out of the air. Harry's scowl quickly turned into a smile, when he saw who had stolen his homework.
“Draco! Hi! What are you doing here?” Harry's voice was warm and he sounded happily surprised to see him. Something soft fluttered in Draco's chest.
“I have an hour or so before I need to go home for Friday tea with Mother. I thought I'd spend it with you. Unless you're busy, of course...”
“Hrmm! I don't know. This text on illegal Quidditch manoeuvres is rather fascinating...” Harry cocked his head and looked at him in mock seriousness. “On the other hand... so are you. Please, come here,” he said, smiling and patting the mattress next to him.
Draco sat down on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. Harry turned onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, looking at him. Draco stretched out beside him, mirroring his position. He reached over and plucked the glasses from Harry's face, carefully folding them and setting them on the bedside table, before placing a quick kiss on his lips.