Of Choirs and Kettles

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/22851334.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Underage
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Character: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Collections: Anonymous
Stats: Published: 2004-01-04 Words: 1698

Of Choirs and Kettles

by Anonymous

Summary

Draco is a Choirboy and he sings a song just for Harry.

Notes

This story was written for jeaneis at the_pimp_cane for the pimpalicious xmas fic
exchange. Enjoy... it's quite silly. And I'm told by some, blasphemous. Also a big thanks to
gigiaiko for betaing. And to the gurks who helped me when I got stuck.

The new Muggle Studies Professor had insisted that there be a Holiday concert during the Yule
feast. The students had groaned and Dumbledore had given his full approval after being bribed
with a teakettle that looked quite like a lemon drop.

There was just one problem, not a single student wanted to sing, thus more bribes were made and
soon enough a choir had been formed. The most surprising thing, (or maybe least surprising thing,
depending upon how you look at it) was that the majority of the choir was composed of Slytherin
students. None of which were too pleased about singing muggle music.

There was one Slytherin though who was quite pleased with the results. One Draco Malfoy whom
greatly reaped the benefits of his singing talents both by receiving the honor of being a soloist and
by the fact that his voice was a great aphrodisiac to his boyfriend, Harry Potter.

With that in mind it was no surprise to find Harry fidgeting in his seat, his torso and face turned
towards the choir and his fingers eagerly drumming on the table in front of him as Draco graced
the school with his falsetto singing voice. Several students snickered when they first heard the solo
flow from Draco’s lips, but many were entranced, although none so much as Harry, who was hard
as a rock.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of Harry’s life as he listened to the choir sing. Fortunately for
him the concert came at the end of the feast, or Harry never would have made it through dinner.
The second the concert ended Harry bolted out of his seat and grabbed Draco by the hand, nearly
dragging him out of the Great Hall.

Harry, distracted by his raging hard-on, paid no attention to where he was leading Draco. Soon
enough they ended up in the kitchens. Draco looked at Harry confused, “Why the kitchen?”

Harry looked around, “Oh, I thought we were going to my room.”

Draco chuckled, “Your room is in completely the opposite direction you nit wit.”

“Oh… erm… Can we just stay here? It’s an awful long ways back to the Tower,” Harry said, biting
his lip.

Draco’s eyes flared lustfully at Harry’s teeth on his lip, Merlin I wish those teeth were on me, he
thought. Arousal coursing through his body, Draco nodded his consent. Within moments Harry had
him pushed up against a table, his mouth devouring Draco’s.

Biting Draco’s lip, Harry slowly pulled away, smiling lasciviously as the blonde whimpered at the
loss. Pressing his hips firm against Draco’s, Harry spoke, his voice a bit raspy, “So, is my little
choirboy going to sing for me?”

“I’m not little, Harry,” Draco said, pushing his lower lip out into a bit of a pout.

Harry licked his lips, “I know you’re not little,” and rubbed his crotch against Draco’s, “that’s quite
obvious. But it’s not the point. I want you to sing for me.” Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco
again.

Draco nodded as Harry pulled away once more. “What song would you like to hear?” he asked
while Harry began undressing them both.

“Angels We Have Heard on High,” Harry stated. Clothes piled up on the floor around the table as
Draco began the song, his voice beautiful and languid, enticing and arousing Harry further (not that
Harry wasn’t already fully aroused). Harry leaned forward and took Draco’s earlobe into his mouth
nibbling and sucking at the supple flesh.

Draco squeaked on the word “high” and Harry grinned, his teeth scraping across Draco’s earlobe.
“Don’t stop, my angel. Keep singing,” Harry whispered, his hand sliding between them, grasping
Draco’s cock as he started singing again. Harry began stroking the Slytherin as he kissed his way
down Draco’s neck, nibbling and sucking at the exposed flesh.

Upon reaching Draco’s erect nipple Harry stated, “Keep singing and don’t come until I tell you to.”
Draco nodded, biting his lip briefly before continuing the song. Harry continued kissing his way
down the choirboy’s lithe body, swirling his tongue around the blonde’s belly button before
delving in, causing Draco to wriggle and stammer slightly as he sang a prolonged “deo”.

“Hold still,” Harry commanded. Draco obliged and continued on with the song. His voice rising
slightly as Harry’s mouth moved down, taking the head of Draco’s cock into his mouth. His
tongue swirled around the tip before gliding down the underside of the shaft.
Draco continued with the song the best he could, “A-ang-els w-we ha-ave heard on h-high, ge-
gently singing o’er the p-plains,” as Harry’s mouth moved up and down his cock. Being
completely overwhelmed by the sensations, Draco lost track of the song and stopped singing.

Harry pulled back completely and looked up at Draco. “Did I tell you that you could stop singing?”
he inquired.

“No,” Draco said, looking down at the Gryffindor positioned between his legs.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” With that Draco went back to singing. Harry started kissing
his way back up the Slytherin’s body. Upon reaching Draco’s shoulder, Harry slid his arm around
the blonde and spun him around and pushed him face down against the table.

Surprised, Draco stammered and it wasn’t until he felt Harry trailing kisses down his back that he
relaxed enough to sing fluidly again. Harry kissed his way down Draco’s buttocks and slid his
tongue along the edge of Draco’s arsehole. Draco let out a slight moan mid-note.

“Merlin, Harry, that feels great,” Draco mumbled. Harry flicked his tongue across Draco’s
perineum while reaching for his wand.

Standing up he muttered the lubricus charm and then whispered in Draco’s ear, “Keep singing
love,” as he slid his cock into the Slytherin’s arse.

Draco kept singing, the long notes of the song getting stretched out with moans as Harry thrust into
him, establishing a slow teasing rhythm that punctuated each line. Any minute now, he thought,
any minute now he’ll speed up. But Harry maintained the tantalizingly slow pace, stroking Draco’s
back as he gently slid in and out.

Draco tried meeting Harry’s thrusts, hoping to speed them up or at least increase the pressure, but
the angle at which he was bent over the table did not allow for much movement. Harry chuckled at
Draco’s unsuccessful attempts, teasing him a moment longer before finally picking up the pace.

Draco groaned out the next line of the song, content in Harry’s ministrations. “Mmmm, yes,
Draco,” Harry moaned, reaching his hand between Draco and the table, grasping his cock, and
stroking it to the same rhythm as his thrusts. “Come for me now, my angel.”

“Glo-ooooo-oooo-OOOOOOOO-ria,” Draco sang out, or rather nearly screamed out, as his orgasm
hit, Harry’s strokes having driven him to the edge faster than anticipated. He flung his arms wildly
out across the table, sending several dishes flying to the floor, and grabbed the first thing he came
into solid contact with – a teakettle.

Grasping tightly onto the spout of the teakettle, Draco came, the force of his grasp breaking the
kettle. Holding the broken spout in his hand, he could feel his muscles clenching around Harry,
who was still thrusting happily into his arse. “Don’t stop singing,” Harry managed to say through
clenched teeth.

Draco’s mind was clouded, the feeling of sheer bliss overtaking him as he struggled to remember
the words to the hymn. Harry’s thrusts were growing sloppy, matching the ever-jumping melody as
Draco stumbled through the rest of the song. As Draco neared the end, or what he was sure was the
end of the song, Harry came, falling against the Slytherin’s back, cutting off the song entirely.

“Merlin, Draco,” Harry panted, “that was brilliant.”

“Mhmm,” Draco mumbled. The two lay there slumped against the table for a few moments. Draco
finally released the spout, revealing a red indent across his hand from having tightly gripped it for
so long.

Harry reached forward, taking Draco’s hand in his and pulled it towards his mouth, kissing the
indent as though he could will it away. Sliding out of Draco, Harry turned the boy around and
kissed him.

“We should get going,” Draco said, breaking the kiss. Harry nodded, his eyes wandering over to
the broken teakettle. Draco followed the Gryffindor’s line of sight and frowned. “Hmmm… we
should fix that first.” Draco grabbed his wand and held the broken spout up to the kettle and
magicked it back on.

His repair was a bit sloppy, but he was far from concerned as Harry wrapped him in a hug,
nuzzling against his neck. “Let’s go,” Harry whispered in his ear.

“Yes, let’s,” Draco said, leaning back into the hug and tilting his head to kiss Harry before getting
dressed. As they pulled on their robes they heard a voice approaching and they raced out of the
kitchen, leaving behind a rather large mess for the house elves to clean up.

The boys had just left, the portrait door swinging closed behind them when Albus Dumbledore
walked into the kitchen wearing an apron at his waist that said, “Kiss the cook”. He looked around
the room, puzzled, searching for his lemon drop teakettle. Finally he spotted it on a rather messy
table.

There were dishes all over the floor around the table and some appeared to be covered in icing.
Picking up one of the bowls, Dumbledore dipped his finger in the frosting-like substance and tasted
it. “Rather salty,” he commented to himself before setting the bowl down and reaching for his
teakettle.

He took the kettle to the stove and began preparing some lemon tea. Something about it didn’t
seem quite right, as the steam from the boiling kettle was blowing off to the side. Shrugging and
blaming the wayward steam on the drafty castle, Dumbledore poured the tea into his cup. Or rather
tried to, as the tea poured right past the cup and onto the counter.

“That’s odd,” thought Dumbledore, “I could have sworn it used to pour normally.” He shrugged
and held the cup at an odd angle and managed to fill the cup. “Muggles,” he said, shrugging,
“always trying to make a fool of the wise.”

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