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capituTitle: It's Joggers Season (or so the Muggles say)
Author:carpemermaid
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10,100 Approx.
Summary: Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind.
OMG, this story is so amazing! And hot, and so much fun. It's starts with basically Draco losing his mind this one night when Harry comes down to the common room wearing only joggers. God, the image that paints is so smoking hot! \o/
Potter doesn’t even have a shirt on. Miles of his golden, tawny skin and sparse, wiry chest hair are blatantly on display for Draco’s perusal. Draco follows the trail of hair from Potter’s flat stomach down to the drooping waistline of the soft trousers hanging low on his hips, looking for all the world as if one strong gust of wind would drop them to the ground.
And from then on it only gets better because there's pining, and there's tutoring and there's Quidditch and all the feels and, and and! All the while Harry's wearing those joggers that drive Draco crazy. Brilliant!
Author:
carpemermaid Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10,100 Approx.
Summary: Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind.
OMG, this story is so amazing! And hot, and so much fun. It's starts with basically Draco losing his mind this one night when Harry comes down to the common room wearing only joggers. God, the image that paints is so smoking hot! \o/
Potter doesn’t even have a shirt on. Miles of his golden, tawny skin and sparse, wiry chest hair are blatantly on display for Draco’s perusal. Draco follows the trail of hair from Potter’s flat stomach down to the drooping waistline of the soft trousers hanging low on his hips, looking for all the world as if one strong gust of wind would drop them to the ground.
And from then on it only gets better because there's pining, and there's tutoring and there's Quidditch and all the feels and, and and! All the while Harry's wearing those joggers that drive Draco crazy. Brilliant!
