Sinope's Fiction: The Nipple Story

Title: The Nipple Story
Author: Sinope at (no spam!) gmail dot com
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: A very silly look into the mind of a teenaged Harry.
Author's notes: For Nancy.
Disclaimer: This is an unofficial fan work. No profit was made; no ownership is implied.

Harry hated breasts.

It wasn't so much that they offended his sensibilities; it was simply that his housemates seemed to venerate them, to elevate them as mystical storehouses of sensual beauty, while all that Harry ever saw on Lavender's chest were two flabby, awkwardly protruding lumps. After dark in his dormitory - particularly on nights after Hogsmeade, when all the girls seemed to wear clothes designed to emphasize their dubious assets - Ron and Seamus would compare bosoms, debating the merits of perky Pansy against voluminous Susan. Harry learned to nod and agree at the right places, of course, but by the end of his sixth year, he was beginning to hate breasts (and the discussion thereof) with a deep and abiding passion.

There was one thing, and one thing only, that Harry liked about breasts: to the last one, they were tipped with nipples. The little buds utterly fascinated him; they felt like a secret window into girls' minds, a way to make them intelligible in the absence of simpler signals like, well, penises. But any hope that he had of finding the female breast appealing was dashed when, six days into his seventh year, Harry discovered that Draco Malfoy had nipples, too.

It was all breasts' fault, Harry decided in retrospect. With the increasing danger of Death Eater attacks in Hogsmeade, Hogwarts students had been confined to the school grounds until enough Aurors were available to guarantee their safety. As a result, when the first fine Saturday morning of the school year had dawned, the school descended en masse to the lake and fields of Hogwarts, bringing books, Exploding Snap cards, and broomsticks to the golden-green meadows. Malfoy was there, of course, as was Harry, though they'd managed to avoid each other for most of the morning. It took a row between Pansy and Lavender to gather their attention - theirs along with the rest of the male population of the school. Any disturbance had been quickly forgotten, Harry realized, in the radiant glow of the two most perfect bosoms of the school, heaving and swaying in mutual anger. Ron had practically dragged him to a closer viewing position, but Harry immediately realized that their new spot put him not three feet from Malfoy.

Whose sweat-damp shirt clung to his slender chest, revealing two pert, perfect, pink nipples.

Harry gulped, bit his tongue and looked away. Then glanced back again, just to verify his memory. Then glanced again, to make sure he wouldn't forget. Then glanced one more time - and found two long-lashed gray eyes glancing back at him.

Oh, bollocks, Harry winced, looking away immediately, and he turned to Ron. "Listen, I, er, ought to go look for Hermione. Think she mentioned something about - er - a book. See you later, then, mate!"

Ron gave him an incredulous look, clearly about to comment on his lack of buxomly appreciation, but Harry had slipped out of the crowd before he could say a word. He hurried away to a more deserted bank of the lake, distractedly skipping stones across the water. Nipplesnipplesnipplesnipplesnipples - "Hullo, Potter."

Harry looked up in shock. Sure enough, the greeting had come from a lanky blond, crossing his arms over a still-clingy white shirt. If he looked closely, even in the afternoon shadows, he could see both - "Malfoy. What do you want?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes languidly, uncrossing his arms - ohgodcottonstretchingovernipples - to smooth back his hair.

"Obviously not the tasteless display that your little Muggleborn friend was putting on. Really, Potter, you ought to keep your housemates in line."

"You're one to talk," Harry glared back. "Not that your Slytherins seemed to mind too much when Pansy got a bee in her bonnet. Anyway, what're you doing here?"

Malfoy shrugged, settling down to sit at a careful distance from Harry. (This turned out to be a rather welcome development, as it shifted him to an angle that revealed only the faintest shadow of pink.) "What, so now the great Harry Potter claims ownership of the Hogwarts grounds as well? Or is my mere presence disrupting your heroic and noble contemplations?"

"God, Malfoy," Harry said, sighing, "do you really have to be such an arse? We're in our last year at Hogwarts; can't we just bloody well leave each other alone? I don't care about you, I don't care about your housemates, and I don't care about your nipples!"

It took a moment for it to sink in - dear Godric, I actually said it. Never before in his career at Hogwarts had Harry wished more fervently that he could Apparate off-grounds.

Malfoy's voice - disorientingly closer to his ear this time - made him jump. "You know, Potter, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering 'pop!' isn't going to make you go away." His tone was cat-like and disturbingly bemused.

Harry's words came out in a blur. "Okay ignore that I just said that and I'm just going to go away now because - yeah - at any rate I should be studying and goodb-" With a sudden thump, his head was pushed to the ground (knocking rather painfully against a tree route), and his lips were assaulted by a pair that felt rather dryer than Cho's, but decidedly nicer.

Malfoy pulled back after a few seconds of breathless, bruising kisses. "Sorry about the tree there."

Harry's lips moved soundlessly. He'd just been kissed. By Draco Malfoy. Who had two little nipples that rubbed his own nipples hard against his chest, and who - even more intriguingly - apparently had a quite massive hard-on twitching against Harry's hip. "It's all right," he finally said, gasping, and the glittering grin on Malfoy's face quickly disappeared when he dove in for another long, sloppy kiss.

Harry gradually realized four facts, several minutes of snogging and mutual groping later. First, that although nipples on girls were relatively fascinating, nipples on boys were downright exciting.

Second, that his kiss with Cho might have been a good deal more interesting if she'd bothered to touch him down there, because Draco was touching him roughly and awkwardly and it was the most intoxicatingly wonderful thing that he'd ever felt.

Third, that bumping your head repeatedly on a tree root somehow only added to your pleasure when it was accompanied by a pair of lips that nibbled and nipped and stroked all the way from the base of your neck to the tip of your ear.

And fourth, that all the girls who'd wandered away in disgust from the fight had found a new place to congregate. Namely, in a ring around Harry and Draco.

This last discovery caused Harry a bit of a shock. "Oh - erk - we're just - ack!" he yelped finally, scrambling away from Draco and trying to pull himself up from the ground.

"Oh, don't mind us," Padma said helpfully, giving him a rather hungry smile. Harry let out a small squeak, fruitlessly trying to hide behind Draco, who was eyeing him with an even bigger smile.

"Now, Potter," he said, drawling, "don't you think that we can put on a better display than those amateurs across the lake?"

Harry tried to protest into the lips that immediately locked back onto his, but by the time that Draco's fingers had slid up Harry's shirt to toy with two distractingly sensitive little nipples of his own, he found that really, he didn't much care.

finis.