Fic Title: Draco!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to JK Rowling and so on. I just own the fluffy muse.
Summary: Drabble. Draco has a piece of drawing paper, a pencil and an eraser.
Rating: White Flame
Warnings: HPDM slash ... somewhat, OOC, takes place in the world of 'Napping on Harry's Lap'. Absolute fluff with no plot.
Author's Notes: In reality, I was practicing drawing Harry…. *explodes into crazy laughter*
Draco blinked and stared blankly at his Transfiguration professor. McGonagall stared back at him, unimpressed and aloof. After several minutes, she walked away to peer over a Ravenclaw's shoulder. Draco's eyes dropped to the drawing paper on his desk.
"Isn't she supposed to relief Flitwick?" he muttered darkly under his breath. "Why in the hell must I draw?"
"Stop complaining, Draco." Millicent, who was sitting beside him, mumbled. "It's just drawing, fortunately. Can you imagine how stressful it would be if she had asked us to do an essay?"
The silver-haired wizard just made a soft noise and picked up the pencil. He frowned, wondering what he should draw. After several minutes of thinking, he sighed and started to sketch. He did not notice McGonagall leaving the room, until he realized that students were walking about the classroom and they were peering at each other's drawings. Draco scowled at them and returned his attention back to his sketch.
"Why in the hell must you wear glasses?" Draco grumbled to himself as he drew a pair of glasses on his paper. "Damn it." He swore angrily and carefully rubbed at the lines that he had made.
He moved on to draw the hair for the figure in the paper and he smirked at one point. "I don't think he'll dare to grow his hair." He smirked again. Once satisfied with his character's hair, he lifted his eyes and sought immediately for a glimpse of Harry Potter. Draco saw the wizard standing behind Hermione Granger and the Gryffindor appeared thoughtful. Draco felt his lips curving into a small smile and began to draw a shirt for his figure.
Due to his surprise, he accidentally pressed the tip of his pencil hard on the drawing paper, and destroyed his intricate design on the hem of the robes of his character.
"What?" he snapped at the voice and turned his head.
His glare quickly changed into incredulity and he quickly covered his drawing with his hands. "Go away!"
"You erase that immediately!" Harry demanded.
"What's wrong with it?" Draco pouted.
"I don't have a bloody mustache!"
"That's not a mustache, love. That's a mouth," Draco answered and glared.
"Not to me, it isn't!" Harry insisted. "Put it lower."
"It looks fine like that. Now, go away."
"Draco." Harry shook his shoulder and looked pleadingly at him.
He shook his head vigorously.
"Please return to your seat, Mister Potter," McGonagall's voice made Harry jump in surprise.
Harry grudgingly returned to his seat and Draco quickly erased the dark blot. After several minutes, McGonagall announced to them that they had to write a description on what they had drawn. Draco looked up and gazed thoughtfully at his boyfriend sitting across the classroom. Harry's cheeks were red with embarrassment. At the pleading look, Draco raised his eyebrow.
Calmly, he wrote down the description for his work.
Harry Malfoy. Six years from now. I see him in my future.
"Please write down your names on the back of the drawing paper," Professor McGonagall said clearly. "Then write down the name of a person you wish to hold on to your drawing at the top, right hand corner. Unfortunately, the person must be in the same room as you are now."
Unabashedly, Draco quickly wrote Harry's name. Professor McGonagall then went around the classroom to collect the drawings and Draco noticed her lips quivering with mirth as she read his written words. She was walking around the classroom, this time to give the drawings away.
Draco was not surprised when his teacher had given him a sketch from Harry. He looked at the drawing in his hand and blushed.
My love, Draco. I hope that this will become a habit.
He read the words again and blushed harder. He wondered at Harry's talent – Harry had drawn him sleeping on the Gryffindor's lap. Draco felt really warm.
He lifted his eyes at the voice.
"Do you really want me to grow a mustache six years from now?"
"That's not a mustache, you git! It's a bloody mouth!"
"Okay then. So, does that mean I can look forward to make you my husband in six years?"
There were squeals and retching noises all around.
"I'll be disappointed if you don't."
Draco's lips quirked into a mischievous smile.