A Series of Drarry Clichés

This was written as one of a collection, based on scenes and scenarios that always turn up in Harry/Draco slash. I am open to new suggestions.

A Series of Drarry Clichés was originally created for my best friend Jennie Wilson. Usually I only have to open my mouth to make her laugh, but these were written to make her smile.

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I just stick them in awkward, and predictable, situations.

Locked in a Cupboard

Who had originally thought of it, no one knew but, Muggle or Wizard, being locked in a cupboard had become a rite of passage at a party. Tradition stated that a boy and girl's name were chosen at random and then both persons stuffed in the cupboard in question for ten minutes, during which anything could happen, to never be spoken of again.

This particular New Year's party had started off in a typical manner, with the Weasley twins smuggling in Butter Beer from the pubs and food from the kitchen, care of the House Elves. They in turn had decorated the Great Hall so that fireworks were periodically released into the endless ceiling, to burn bright against the night sky.

It was about ten minutes to midnight when Harry's name was chosen by the enchanted cupboard – appearing in a delicate script on the door. Harry held his breath in anticipation as Ron dug him in the ribs,

"Might be in there Harry," He suggested with a wink.

Then to everybody's surprise the door began to etch out another name: the name of Draco Malfoy.

"This is some sort of sick joke, right?" Harry commented, turning to Ron and Hermione. His best friend was reassuringly saying things must have gone wrong, and there was no need to worry mate. But Hermione, a stickler for the rules, was insisting that Harry couldn't avoid the confrontation as much as they all wanted him to.

"Oi! Malfoy; your name's on this stupid door!" Malfoy swaggered over at the sound of his name, but his face soon crumpled at the sight of who he had been partnered with.

"There is no way." Malfoy stated, haughtily, but by this time the cupboard had had enough and, suddenly growing arms, pulled both boys inside.

"Oh dear," Said Hermione, turning pale and pretending she hadn't been reaching for Ron's hand, "You don't think they'll kill each other, do you?"

Inside the cupboard it was completely silent; a silence so thick it was like it hung in the air between them. There was a single dull light half illuminating their faces, casting long shadows. Harry carefully took off his glasses and placed them on a shelf.

"Well go on then Malfoy, no bodyguards, no audience. Do you think you can take me on now?" Harry crouched slightly and beckoned the Slytherin forward with his hands, knowing wands would be useless in there. Malfoy remained motionless, his eyes catching the light.

"What are you waiting for, hurt me...kill me" Hissed Harry, his eyes never leaving Malfoy's, having waited years for this confrontation, "I'm all yours."

At this Malfoy stepped forward into more of the light, then, grabbing the collar of Harry's shirt, dragged him up and off the ground.

"Mine ay?" He echoed, and then instead of kneeing Harry in the balls, as was expected, he shoved Harry closer to him and smashed their mouths together. Harry protested, pushing the taller boy off him and then swinging him a punch; catching Malfoy's jaw, and grazing his knuckles along the other boy's teeth.

Malfoy wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, glanced down at it, and then back up, cold, into Harry's eyes. He stepped forward again.

Harry was ready this time. He swung another punch, Malfoy moving so it landed on his shoulder. The blonde took this opportunity to grab Harry's arm and swung the boy over his head and slammed him onto the floor, where he pinned him to the ground and started to punch Harry's face.

Harry was filling up with a mixture of sensations: the pain in his face, the pressure on his midriff, the heat that was radiating between them. Suddenly Harry swung his own arm out to stop the attack, and with the other pulled Malfoy down to him, responding with a kiss of his own; a kiss with a bitter iron taste – the taste of the enemy.

Placing his forearms flat on the floor either side of Harry's head, Malfoy dug his tongue into the unfamiliar mouth and slowly repositioned his hips so forbidden territories could mingle. Harry began to rip the down the front of Malfoy's t-shirt, the blonde's long fingers now on his face, and moving Harry's head to allow greater access to his mouth; arching his body slightly when the Griffindor ran a rough hand unexpectedly over his nipple.

Malfoy tried using one hand to undo the buttons on Harry's shirt, but soon gave up, choosing instead to break the kiss momentarily to pull the offending material over the boy's head. Harry had already started on the button of Malfoy's jeans as the blonde began kicking his shoes off, allowing himself to be rolled over for Harry to remove his trousers also.

Harry moved to remove the other's underwear, but Malfoy stopped him, instead grabbing Harry's hands and placing them either side of the blonde's cheeks; for the first time allowing them to fully look each other in the eye.

Harry lowered himself slower now, softer, lying so he was comfortable on top and between the legs of his foe. Then, running easy fingers through Malfoy's fine strands of hair, planted a gentle kiss on the boy's mouth; feeling a shy tongue flick up in response.

Malfoy was learning Harry's muscles with his fingertips; reading every bump, every line, every scar. Tasting Harry in his mouth as sweet as the forbidden fruit Eve had given to Adam, and just as terrifying.

Harry glanced down at his watch: they still had four and a half minutes.